Shadows in the Smoke - Chapter 46 - Perhaps We Could Have Been Friends

  “The People must always be vigilant for enemy spies. Sometimes they ‘merely’ want to obtain the Republic’s secrets so that they can better undermine us. Other times, their crimes are more direct with sabotage, theft or even murder all in their toolbox.”

  The Struggle for Freedom by Bjarne Midthun

  =====

  By the time sixth bell came around, Ester had eaten two meals. They didn’t feel all that satisfying, but they’d still done something to fill the gaping hole in her stomach. As she walked towards Lindholm’s rooms, her mind kept flicking between memories of the hearty curries of home, full of spiced meats, and fantasies about somersaulting into a fight and punching a ghoul so hard it went through a wall. If she could combine that with a spell at the same time…

  Lindholm’s rooms had a guard on the door, a man from the 13th, although Ester wasn’t quite sure why. Anything that could kill Lindholm wouldn’t even be slowed down by an ordinary soldier with a gun.

  She braced herself for yet more hostility, but the man just nodded when he saw her and knocked on the door before turning back to her.

  “Mage Mazar, the Arcanist-Colonel is expecting you. She’ll let you in in a second.”

  “Thank you.” Ester stopped a polite distance from him, half her mind still in a fantasy world of food and acrobatics.

  It was actually more like two minutes before she felt magic shifting behind the door. That pulled her straight back to the real world. Were those wards? She hadn’t felt any.

  Ester took a small step forward without thinking. If she could look more closely, she might be able to work out more about them.

  She remembered where she was just as the door opened to reveal Lindholm. The woman was still in her uniform, looking as weathered as ever.

  “Ah, Mazar. Thank you for coming.” As if it hadn’t been an order. “Come in and take a seat.”

  “Thank you, Arcanist-Colonel.” Ester bowed politely and headed inside.

  She’d somehow expected the room to be neatly laid out with military precision. Instead, it resembled a chaotic workshop. There was no bed, but there was a door, presumably leading to a bedroom. A workbench was covered in scraps of metal and jars of Spirits only knew what. On the other side of the room was a desk with a map spread across it and several teetering piles of paper on top of that. Where had Lindholm even found that much paper out here?

  There were also a couple of wooden closets and several chairs spread haphazardly around the room with discarded bits of uniform on them.

  Lindholm looked around and seemed to see the mess for the first time.

  “Oh, my apologies.” She gestured and a pair of crumpled uniform trousers flew from a chair to the corner. “I have little time for tidying.”

  “Thank you, Arcanist-Colonel.” Ester took a seat in lieu of replying to that. The place was an absolute tip. Was this a consequence of the Republic’s ridiculous aversion to servants? It made sense to be self-sufficient, but expecting someone as busy as Lindholm to do everything herself was foolish.

  The chair at Lindholm’s desk was free of clothing; Ester suspected that was the only one she regularly used and the Arcanist-Colonel promptly sprawled in it in a very unladylike manner. Ester wasn’t sure whether to be jealous or mildly scandalised.

  Lindholm didn’t seem inclined to say anything, just sitting there gazing into the distance. Was she just tired or was it the strain of defending the fort?

  Eventually Ester broke the silence. “Arcanist-Colonel, you wanted to speak to me?”

  “Yes.” Lindholm focused on Ester, sounding as if she hadn’t just spent the last minute staring at the wall. “There were a few things I wished to discuss with you.”

  Was this going to be the moment she said she’d teach Ester how to enhance herself after all? Ester leaned forward, nervous energy running through her.

  “Firstly, well done for your defence of the walls. Politics,” she grimaced at the word, “sometimes restricts what I can say in public, but I think if anyone else here had been in your place, the undead would have taken your section of the wall.”

  “Thank you, Arcanist-Colonel.” Ester forced her hands to stay still, despite the almost overwhelming desire to start playing with her skirts. Had she really done that well though? Lindholm had had to save her section. Honesty made her keep talking. “I think we would still have fallen without your intervention though. I was not fast enough or strong enough to hold them off.”

  “Most likely, it does not take away from the point. I was not there, but I have had reports on what happened.” How did the woman find the time? Did she ever sleep? “You were responsible for killing several witches and essentially obliterated a company of regular soldiers before destroying countless ghouls. For a girl of your age, that is impressive. It would be impressive if you had twice the experience, although there are of course things you could have done better.”

  There it was! Ester leaped on the opportunity. “Absolutely, Arcanist-Colonel. Perhaps if you could t—”

  “No.” The word had a depressing finality to it. Lindholm ran her hand through her hair and glanced up at the ceiling before she continued. “Look, Mazar,” she sighed, “Ester. You have a great deal of Talent and an almost unhealthy amount of determination behind it. I admire it. Sometimes when I look at you, I see hints of a younger me.”

  “But…”

  Lindholm ignored her, just staring at the wall again. “I like you, believe me, I do. Perhaps if we had met when I was as young as you, we could have been friends.”

  Ester leaned forward, groping to find the right words, why was Lindholm even saying this if she wasn’t going to teach her? “Why not though? Why not now?”

  “That… Sigrid Lindholm… she no longer exists. The world is a harsh place and it has been particularly harsh to me. The things I have seen…” Lindholm trailed off again and then gave her head a shake. “All of the things I like in you, they make me all the more certain that I cannot teach you. You can hate me for that, but I am not your mentor, nor am I your friend. I am an officer in the People’s Army and everything about you proclaims your loyalty to your queen.” Her lips twisted down as she said the last word. “I can respect that, but you need to respect me too. Whatever I teach you, you will apply your Talent to. Then, what happens if war flares up once again? Do I want to face Master Ester Mazar, Archmage Ester Mazar even, and see her butcher Republican troops like your people did at the Battle of Grathbridge? Knowing that I helped to create her?”

  Ester’s stomach twisted. Had Lindholm just brought her here to mock her? She forced herself to stay calm.

  “I… I understand your position.” She supposed she did. If their positions were reversed, she wouldn’t have said no though. “But, I am here because the Empire wants peace, because I want peace. I know you have had a hard life, but that does not mean we cannot be friends.”

  Instead of answering, Lindholm gestured. Magic sparked in a flurry of runes around her desk before a drawer opened and a dull green bottle floated out of it to her hand. With an easy motion, she flipped the cork out and took a deep swig.

  “Is that? Where did you even get…” Ester trailed off as she goggled at the woman, still trying to catch up with the sudden change.

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  “Supplies. Do you want some? It is swill, but it can take the edge off.” Lindholm held the bottle out to her.

  Ester vehemently shook her head. “No, thank you, Arcanist-Colonel.” What was wrong with the woman? Had she been drinking throughout the siege? Was she already drunk? Was that why she kept leaving Ester in dangerous situations?

  “Fair enough.” Lindholm gulped down more of whatever it was and sighed deeply. “Look, I am sorry. I should not have said all of that, some things bring bad memories back. I do not like to think about the past.” She took a more moderate sip. “The reason I wanted to speak to you was more practical. We are going to lose this siege.”

  She said it so matter of factly, that it took Ester a moment to truly register her words. “Lose?” Ice ran through her veins.

  “Another attack like the last one will break us. You did an excellent job holding your section, but we are now low on ammunition, too many of the soldiers are dead or wounded and those that are not are tired. The undead have amassed far more forces than I thought was possible without us knowing. Then there are our food supplies. They will not last much longer. You think you are hungry now, but you do not know what true hunger is. When your belly is completely empty, that gnawing, desperate feeling where all you can think about is how to find food…”

  Lindholm trailed off, staring into the distance until she took another swig of whatever was in her bottle. Ester thought she could smell it even from a couple of yards away.

  “But people can survive without food, for a while.”

  “Oh, yes. Approximately three weeks, maybe more if they are strong and healthy. They cannot fight though. Once we run out of food, we might as well surrender and become necromancers.” Lindholm raised an eyebrow at Ester’s shocked gasp. “That was a joke. I would kill every person in this fort myself before working for a liche.”

  Ester leaned back slightly, not at all reassured by the utter certainty in Lindholm’s voice. “Are we not just waiting for relief though? They must be getting here soon. We just have to hold out until then.”

  “Ha.” Lindholm took another gulp. “Gaarder might have made it through the undead’s cordon. He is a good man and I gave him a strong force. What then though? He reports to the high command in Nilrava and they try to assemble relief forces. First it goes through six different committees, then they have an argument about whose budget it comes from. Next they have to actually assemble a force capable of relieving us and transport it here. That is, if they do not decide that the sensible thing is to accept Fort Statvinger’s loss and use the time to build fortifications with shorter supply lines. Resources are tight and we are at the mercy of politicians and bureaucrats with full bellies who are far from the front lines.” Her lip curled in disgust. “For now.”

  “You…” Ester chose her words carefully, she didn’t want to offend Lindholm right when she seemed to be confiding in her, “do not seem enamoured with your government. I thought the Republicans chose their own leaders.” She could hardly believe she was defending the Republican government, however tentatively. What did for now mean anyway?

  “Do I not? As I said, your loyalty does you credit. Although, even in the Empire, there’s that old saying is there not? The rivers are wide and the Throne is far away.” She peered at Ester’s face for a second and then sighed. “No, I suppose you would not have heard that. Anyway, my point is that when you are far from the centre, you must look after yourself and find your own solutions. Ice and steam! Who knows? The fat bureaucrats might even be right if they choose to sacrifice us. I have had to make choices like that and no doubt there are souls out there cursing me for my own callous decisions.” She shrugged, examined her bottle and raised it to her mouth again.

  Ester wrenched her mind back to what was important. She could worry about whether or not Lindholm liked her government if they all survived.

  “If you think our situation is so dire, why are you telling me rather than saying so at the meeting?”

  “Come now, Mazar, you are brighter than that. Do not pretend to be a fool, it does not become you.”

  Ester’s immediate scowl met Lindholm’s smirk head on. “Fine, it is obvious why you would not say that in front of everyone. But why me?”

  Lindholm tilted the bottle back and took another gulp. “And that is the real question. Are you sure you would not like some?” She held out the bottle again.

  After a moment Ester reached for it. Great Spirits, if she was going to die maybe a drink would make her feel better about it and it might mean Lindholm drank less.

  Lindholm didn’t bother to speak or gesture, but the bottle floated towards Ester on her magic, until Ester caught it with her own. If Lindholm wanted to make casual displays of skill, so would she.

  “Thank you.” The bottle was looking worryingly close to empty, but Ester took a tentative sip and immediately started coughing so hard she nearly dropped it. “Great Spirits! What in the world is this?”

  “It hardly matters, it does the job. Have another sip, it gets better and then pass it back.”

  Ester poured a bit more of the burning liquid into her mouth and just about managed not to choke. It wasn’t the worst thing she’d ever drunk, but she really couldn’t see the appeal.

  Lindholm caught the bottle as Ester floated it back to her, took a much larger drink from it and looked up at the ceiling.

  “Anyway, I did not say we are doomed. I said that we would lose this siege.”

  “I do not understand.” Ester wondered if she should suggest the woman pause on her drinking. “If we lose the siege and are not willing to join the undead, then what other options are there?”

  “Have you ever played Thronesfall, Mazar?” She paused. “You might know it as Dominion.”

  Ester resisted the urge to sigh, Lindholm was no doubt going to try to impress her with some clever metaphor.

  “Yes, Arcanist-Colonel, although only a few times. I was never very good at it.”

  “Well then, what do you do when you are losing?”

  “I do not know. Try to improve and win next time?”

  Her sarcastic response got her a raised eyebrow from Lindholm. “No, you grab the table and flip it over before punching them in the face.”

  “I see…” She didn’t really. Obviously Lindholm meant change the game, but she didn’t see how. “So you are going to flip the board?”

  “Exactly! We cannot beat the undead in the battle they expect to have so we will change the game.”

  “And how are we going to do that?” Despite her scepticism, Ester felt a spark of hope stirring in her. “I do not think punching the undead in the face will get us very far.” Particularly if Lindholm wouldn’t teach her how to do it properly.

  “Simple, Mazar. We will infiltrate the undead camp and kill their leadership. With them dead, their army will collapse into infighting. They have their strengths, but a stable command structure and ability to deal with being decapitated are not among them.”

  Ester stared at the woman for a couple of seconds. Was she mad? Was she completely drunk? “How exactly are we meant to do that? You said that they are led by a liche that might be the match of an Archmage.”

  “Ah, well that was probably a bit of an exaggeration.” Lindholm had the gall to look embarrassed. “Anyway, there are ways of dealing with liches. You do not need to worry about that.”

  “Fine, let us pretend I am reassured by that. If you were able to easily dance your way into the enemy camp from the start, why did you not do that straight away? Why have we been sitting here hungry and waiting to sell our lives to hold back the undead?” Ester realised she was raising her voice and clamped her mouth shut.

  “A good point, but you are wrong about one thing. I did not say it would be easy. We will probably fail and die horribly, that is why I did not suggest it initially. However, if death is inevitable, then suddenly a foolhardy gamble begins to seem like a carefully considered risk.” Lindholm turned her bottle upside down, took a few gulps and then looked at it in irritation. “Fuck.”

  She put the bottle down on the ground and stared morosely at it until Ester broke the silence.

  “Alright, but then why are you telling me this? Should you not have been discussing this meeting with your other officers?”

  “Normally, yes.” Lindholm wrenched her eyes from her empty bottle back to Ester. “However, there are other considerations.”

  “Other considerations?”

  “The undead focused disproportionate efforts on your section of the wall. If you had not been there, it would have fallen. I am forced to wonder why that was.”

  “Surely you do not think they are targeting me?”

  “No, do not let things go to your head Mazar.” Lindholm ignored Ester’s outraged look. “If you had not been sent to that section of the walls, then it would have been the weakest by some margin. The garrison troops are already of lower quality and less well equipped than the 13th. However, Captain Lovas is an incompetent coward and his company had the weakest magical support.”

  Ester leaned forward and lowered her voice. “You think that they knew what forces were assigned to which parts of the walls?”

  “It is probably just coincidence, but I do not like coincidences. I cannot take the risk that someone has decided that they might be able to save themselves by assisting the undead.”

  “But no one would be mad enough to put themselves at the mercy of those monsters!”

  “I would like to think so.” Lindholm sighed and glanced back at the empty bottle, “but unfortunately the world has a way of disappointing me. Do not misunderstand me, I am not certain of this by any means, but if there is a traitor, their betrayal is a risk I cannot take. I trust the officers of the 13th with my life, but I do not know the garrison and they have not impressed me. So I will keep my plans a secret from them until the last possible moment.”

  Realisation dawned on Ester. “But you can trust me because of my own background? Because there is no chance I have been in contact with the undead?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And you would like me to help hunt for the traitor because of my background with the Vass Karan Watch?”

  “The what? Ice and steam, no! The last thing I need is angry officers and men because you are poking your nose into their business. I am telling you because I want you to join the attack.”

  “Oh.” Ester felt her face heating and quickly looked away. “Well, of course, I will do whatever I can to help.”

  “Good. Do not breathe a word of this to anyone, go and be sure to get some rest and make whatever preparations you can. We will leave three nights from now; I will need some time to prepare.” She gave Ester a sharp nod and then looked back down at her empty bottle.

  Ester stood and gave her a shallow bow. “I will be ready.”

  “Mmm, yes.” Lindholm didn’t look up from her bottle. “Only two left.” She muttered before raising her voice. “You can apply that bright little head of yours to Schemas too, correct?”

  “I have made a few…”

  “Right. Come back here tomorrow night at 6th bell. If you truly want to learn, then I will teach you something useful.”

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  Dramatis personae:

  Ester Mazar - Chartered Mage, would still like to be an acrobat-chef-fire puncher.

  Sigrid Lindholm - Arcanist-Colonel and war hero, I am definitely not scheduling military action based on when I run out of alcohol.