Tane Bayder, 5 September, 1582 AAA, Trackford

“And so he gathered three hundred warriors, men of Britain, and Gaels, and a few Sea-Wolves who had turned to his side. Morgan told him the way to the realm of fairy was on the isle of Avalon, and he took this army with him when they sailed there. And they saw a great shimmering in the air, but marching through it, they came into another realm, and were in the midst of a great many mountains of terrible height, and saw dragons of a sort that Arthur had fought many times, but never in such numbers.”

Bran the Wise, The Conquest of Anwwn.

“Son on the cross” Tane said when she saw him, making the sign of the three-spoked wheel on her cuirass.

Gryff lay on a bed in the townhouse that had been commandeered as the Commonwealth army’s field hospital in trackford, half unconscious from blood loss and opium. His face was a maze of stitches, holding his ruined face into one piece so his body could knit it back together. His mustache and sideburns had been cut off; to stop them catching blood that could turn poisonous.

“He’ll have severe scarring and might not be able to speak properly, but there’s no sign of infection. If he avoids that, he’ll live” said her company surgeon, Conan O Carrene, who stood beside her. His hands were bloodied, from digging out the last, useless remains of shattered teeth, and a metal fragment from his helmet’s cheek piece that had lodged in Gryff’s tongue, as well as from stitching his face back together.

Every time she saw him, it reminded her of how bloody lucky they’d gotten that day. An inch lower and Gryff would have lost his jaw; two inches higher and he would have died instantly. As it was, he would be maimed for life.

I did this to him. I led him into this, got him shot by some civilian with a fowling piece, after he made it through god knows how many battles unscathed.

Tane sat down next to the bedside. “They managed to get Blodwen’s arm to set properly. She won’t lose it.” She’d only narrowly rolled clear of her horse when it had gone down. The extra training she’d put her company had paid off. Without it, Blodwen might have broken her neck or back when her horse had been shot out from under her.

The undamaged side of Gryff’s mouth curled up into a hint of a smile.

“The shooter still hasn’t spoken to anyone, though. At least we have a name. Rhys Gof.”

She sat there for a while in silence.

“Uh, Bayder, General Veulnor’s here” said Sace, poking her head in through the door. She tried to avoid looking at Gryff’s ruined face.

Tane nodded and stood up.

She found the tall, plain faced man downstairs, his heavily armoured bodyguard lance awkwardly crammed into the drawing room, struggling to avoid damaging the roof with their greatswords and pollaxes.

“I’m sorry for the casualties your company suffered” Veulnor said.

Tane nodded. “No deaths on our side. We took down the shooter. We didn’t start a riot. I think that counts as a victory, given the circumstances”

“Aye, you did a good job. That could have gone a lot worse.”

Tane sighed. “He was hard to take down. Spent the whole thing taunting me.”

“Seems he wanted to get martyred.”

“Or that he wanted to convince us he wanted to be killed, so we wouldn’t kill him, so he could escape. It would explain why they scattered rather than going down fighting.”

She’d had a lot of time to overanalyse his actions during the fight.

“Whatever it is, we won’t know until he talks. Some of my staff officers want to try torture.”

“Don’t. He’ll say anything to make it stop. It’s a waste of time if you want anything but a false confession. Do we have anything on the other attackers?”

“We managed to find someone last night who recognized the dead man as Corentin Callene. He’s a minor white witch. Did the usual business; messing about with peoples souls to heal them of this or that malady, or running off parasitic demons. Surprised he was a mindbreaker too. His body was bloating up by the time we recognized it. I’m glad to finally have the bloody thing in the ground.”

“And thank the Mother for that, Sir.”

The stench of that body had been godawful, and it couldn’t have been good for the health of anyone in the building.

“Anything on the third attacker?”

“Nothing, beyond that she’s a brown haired woman.”

Tane sighed. “I suppose we could ask after the associates of Corentin. That might give us a lead.”

A thought occurred to Tane.

“Could I talk to the prisoner? See if I can get anything out of him?”

“Why? He hasn’t spoken to any of my staff.”

Tane shrugged. “He might respond if we send in someone different from whatever staff officers you’ve been throwing at him. Besides, I was leading the unit that took him prisoner. I get a third of the ransom, so I suppose that means a third of the intelligence.”

Veulnor laughed. “Aye, I suppose so. Just don’t go ripping any fingernails.”

“Oh, that won’t be an issue.”

*

“Halt” said the billman guarding the door into Rhys’s cell, in the most bored voice imaginable.

“I’m coming in to see him on General’s orders.”. She unbuckled her sword belt and hung it from a peg on the wall, then picked up a wooden stool. A desperate man at close quarters could potentially grab her dagger and use it against her.

“Fine” the billman said, and unlocked the door into the improvised cell. They’d taken the townhouse’s cellar over, turning it into a prison. The soldier passed her a lit candle. “Not much light in there.”

Tane stepped through and shut the door behind her. Rhys Gof, the man who’d mutilated Gryff, crippled Blodwen and nearly burned down trackford, lay in the corner, dressed only in shirt and breeches. He was sullen, with sunken cheekbones, and his black hair was hanging loose around his shoulders. The room stank; she guessed the chamber pot was only changed once a day or thereabouts.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to torture you.” Tane said.

She sat down on her stool, and motioned for him to sit on the bed. She poured him a glass of water from the flask she’d brought and offered it to him. He refused with a shake of his head.

He pulled himself up. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“I’m not telling you anything.”

“I want to help you.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“You fought bravely. I respect that. So does Gryff.”

You fought like a coward, and Gryff respects no such thing.

“Who’s Gryff?”

“My Lieutenant. Who you blew the face off of.”

“Oh.”

He had the decency to look at least somewhat guilty.

“In any case, the Commonwealth wants to know why you did this, and they don’t care if they have to use torture or mindbreakers. I don’t want that to happen.”

“Why?”

She could see the beginnings of fear in his eyes.

“I took you prisoner, therefore I’m in charge of your safety. Would go against my honour as an officer to let anything happen to you.”

He snorted. “You want honour, you could start by not occupying my city.”

“Part of my honour is following orders I don’t like. In any case, I want to help you, but you need to give me something to work with. They want to know why you shot at us.”

Getting him to explain his motives, of course, was far easier than getting him to betray his comrades, and once his sort started talking, they would take considerable effort to shut up. Going bandit hunting in the highlands had taught her a good few lessons.

“Because you occupied our city. Because you’ve fucked us out of any say in our own government. Because you’ve been crushing us under taxes. Because you’ve perverted justice in favour of a bunch of savages.”

True believer, or doing a good imitation of one, not a mercenary.

“So you’re with the Patriot’s Brigade? The Diet? Trackford Militia?”

He spat on the ground. “They’re cowards who won’t do their duty for Trackford. We- I – will show them what kind of murderers you are. Anyone who stands in our way will die. That includes you.”

He was staring at her, with the look of a fanatic, and Tane found herself wondering if he knew how to kill unarmed.

What was it Veulnor had said?

“You have bricks and sticks and rapiers and fowling pieces. We have pike and shot and airships and grey witches and bound demons and war skeins. This isn’t a war you could win.”

“We don’t have to win. Just not lose.”

“And then what?”

“We’ll, uh-”

“You don’t have a clue. You’ll create a desert and call it freedom.”

“It doesn’t matter what happens! All the coiled serpent has to-“

He choked himself off suddenly as he realized what he was saying.

Just as planned.

“Coiled serpent?”

“I will not betray my comrades.” He said flatly as he realized his mistake.

Too late.

“We already have your comrades.”

She’d checked with the other interrogators on everything they’d told him. Giving out contradictory information would ruin her credibility.

“What?!”

“The witch died in the attack, and we have the woman prisoner.”

That was a flagrant lie, but if it made him think her identity was irrelevant since she was already prisoner…

“Then you’ve martyred me and Brenna for the cause. My comrades will save us, or avenge us, and you still haven’t captured the Old Man.”

“That was I need to know to buy you, say, a few weeks. No betrayal necessary.” Tane said. She stood up and went for the door. “They’re signing the request for authority for torture as we speak. I’ll tell them it’s not necessary.”

She left.

He’s part of a larger organization. The Coiled Serpent. Old Man is some sort of leader. Third attacker’s called Brenna. Fucking idiot. This is why you never talk to interrogators.