‘Do you really think the empires would leave you alone long enough to achieve that?’

‘We’re counting on them not knowing what we’re doing until it’s too late. This whole operation is being conducted in absolute secrecy.’

‘It’ll be a hard secret to keep, Patrician, given the number of people who’d have to be in on it.’

‘Just about everybody’s on a need to know basis. And the Resistance is organised on a cell system. There are plenty of cut-offs.’

‘All it takes is one captive with a vital piece of information being put to torture. Then the empires are going to piss on you from a very great height.’

Disgleirio impaled a piece of meat. ‘Aren’t they doing that now, with our tacit connivance?’

‘Your longevity’s made a pessimist of you, Reeth,’ Karr put in.

‘I prefer realist. More so than you, if you believe you can get away with a plan like this. You’re talking about nothing less than the creation of your own state.’

‘And a rallying point.’

‘Think of what a functioning state needs.’ Caldason began counting off on his fingers. ‘An army, or at least a militia, to defend it; armourers, smiths, wheelwrights, farmers, herdsmen, butchers, bakers, builders, healers, tailors, cobblers, administrators inevitably, not to mention a navy to get everybody there and -’

Karr held up his hands to quieten him. ‘Enough! You’re right, we’d need all those skills and more. Do you imagine we haven’t thought it through? This is the culmination of a lifetime’s work.’

‘Gods, man, how many people would it take to do this thing?’

‘That depends on where we do it. But many thousands, naturally. And those thousands are all about us, and willing.’

‘Perhaps Reeth’s right in doubting you can pull it off,’ Kutch said, eyes shining, ‘but I think the idea’s…

amazing

.’

‘It does have a certain fascination, doesn’t it?’ Karr allowed, grinning. ‘The sheer complexity of putting together something like this, something that’s never been done before, is intriguing. The puzzle-solving, the problems that have to be confronted; it’s all quite satisfying in its way.’

Caldason seemed interested despite himself. ‘What about the intangibles? Politics, religion, that kind of thing.’

‘You see? It

is

an engaging subject. Would we have a state religion? Probably not. We’d leave that to individual preferences. What kind of political system would prevail? One with as much participation as possible by the citizens, obviously, though we’re still working on how we could achieve that.’

‘Some things you can’t plan for,’ Disgleirio contributed. ‘Given the chance, people decide for themselves what sort of life they want.’

‘What about magic?’ Caldason said.

‘What about it?’ Phoenix asked.

‘Starting afresh would be a good opportunity to ditch it.’

The magician couldn’t hide his dismay, or didn’t bother. ‘We’d as soon get by without water to drink,’ he asserted, stern-faced.

Karr attempted to smooth over the disagreement. ‘We all appreciate that magic has harmed you, Reeth, but you have to be realistic. It’s too fundamental a need.’

‘A

need

? I see it as fetters and chains. It doesn’t liberate; it reinforces bondage.’

‘Not everybody thinks like those communards. Or like you. To most people, magic’s a daily necessity, and we’re not about to deprive them of it. We’re trying to oppose a dictatorship, remember, not become one ourselves.’

‘You’re wrong about this. It’s doing people no favours.’

Karr was growing irritated. ‘Its value as a weapon alone makes it a vital element in our defence. Would you have us stand unarmed against the sorcery of the empires?’

‘You’re not taking the neutrality of magic into account,’ Kutch reminded Reeth. ‘You know it has no morality. Magic’s only as good or as bad as those who channel it. I think the Resistance can be trusted to use it virtuously.’

Phoenix backed him. ‘Well said, lad.’

‘If magic wasn’t here in the first place,’ Caldason responded, ‘there’d be no issue of whether it was used for good or ill.’

‘You could say the same about your swords,’ the magician argued. ‘About all weapons. If they didn’t exist, where would the temptation to misuse them be?’

‘No,’ Caldason stated flatly. ‘There’s something clean and honest about sharpened steel. Magic’s base deception, and corrupt.’

‘We’re not going to agree on this,’ Karr decided. ‘Let’s drop the subject.’

‘So much for participation.’

‘If you feel so strongly about it,’ the patrician snapped, ‘join us and work to change our minds. But for now, let it rest.’

Caldason glared at him.

Disgleirio noisily cleared his throat. The effect was theatrical, but it got everybody’s attention. ‘Time is short and we all have pressing business elsewhere. Not to mention the risk of staying here too long. So, unless there’s anything else to be said…’

‘Only this,’ Karr replied. ‘When I took my first uncertain steps in politics, I was lucky enough briefly to have a mentor. Old and venerable he was, yet he still burned with radical zeal. He told me, “Don’t do anything for history, for posterity. Do it for yourself, and for the benefit of others. Because no matter how big your gesture, even history will forget you in time.” That always struck me as a kind of truth, and I commend it to you all.’ He turned his attention to Reeth and Kutch, and his usual ebullience seemed to be back. ‘There’s a lot more we could say about the plan, and we will. But now there are others I want you two to meet. It might make your decision about whether to join us a little bit easier. Are you game?’

Karr, Reeth and Kutch made their farewells and left together, discreetly. A carriage was waiting for them close to the derelict warehouse. There was nothing special about it or its anonymous driver. It had blinds on its windows, which they left half-drawn.

As they set off, Kutch asked, ‘Where are we going?’

‘Another safe house,’ Karr said. ‘Well, not a house exactly. You’ll see.’

‘Is it far?’

‘Edge of the city. Shouldn’t take us too long.’ His attention was on Valdarr’s bustling streets.

Eventually the city began to blend into countryside. Roads gave way to tracks and houses were sparse.

They came to a low hill; little more than a mound, in fact, and certainly man-made. Standing on its plateau was a windmill. It was very tall and white, though its paint was peeling. Its four great sails turned slowly in a light wind.

‘You conduct your business in some interesting places,’ Caldason remarked.

‘Needs must,’ Karr returned.

The coach was dismissed and they crunched up the gravel path leading to the mill’s entrance. They heard the wind crackling the fabric covering the ribs on its sails. Wood creaked, and there was the low, rumbling sound of grinding cogwheels. When the trio reached level ground they saw that a cluster of squat outbuildings attended the mill.

There were no obvious signs that they were being observed, yet Caldason wasn’t alone in feeling watched. With a gloved hand, Karr rapped loudly on the door’s sturdy planks. It was opened almost immediately, liberating a blast of mechanical noise. A company of armed guards met the visitors, and recognising Karr, waved them through.

At the centre of the large circular room were three intermeshing toothed wheels, enormous and made of iron, which clacked and rumbled as they turned. The chamber was lit by glamour globes, lessening the risk of fire. A dozen or more hovered close to the high wooden ceiling, like bulbous, glowing fungi. Their intense light showed up the fine flour dust in the air.

The place was crowded with people, their murmured conversations rivalling the machinery’s clamour. Most were men, of all ages, but there was a fair sprinkling of women and children. They sat on crates, heaps of sacks or the odd bench and chair. Many stood. Some of the youngsters were curled up on the floor, asleep.