boys a bit of confidence, but the smoke gives us the power to win. With the smoke we’re unstoppable. We can do what we want. The old mans’ army just gets in the way. Well, actually, they’re left behind. They’re a joke. They fear us showing them up.” He leaned forward and whispered, “They fear us fucking them up too.”
And March, for the first time, realized Rashford was right. The boy army didn’t need support from the normal fighting force—they’d only slow the boys down. “But wouldn’t Aloysius want to come and see the carnage he’s made?”
“You mean the carnage we’ve made.” Rashford shrugged. “I don’t know about that.”
“He’ll want to see it at some stage. I’m guessing we run in, kill everything in our path, and then hold the fort until the men arrive. Which sounds fine . . . until we run out of smoke. How much smoke do they give you? Enough for days? Weeks?”
“Ten days, tops. They’re tight like that. Our relationship isn’t like a normal army; ours is based on trade—they give us smoke, we give them dead bodies.”
That sounded right at first, but March thought about it for a few moments more and shook his head. “No. They give you smoke. You give them certain victory. You have more power than you realize. They’re right to fear you.”
They sat in silence for a few moments before March asked, “But what happens at the end of it all?”
“We win.” Rashford grinned, his white teeth shining in the dark.
March disagreed. “You only win when you have smoke. If you don’t have smoke, you lose. That’s why they ration it. At the end of the war, or when you man up, at best you’ll be given a shit job in the regular army. The sort of job that goes to people like us, who aren’t nobility, who have already served our purpose. I reckon King Aloysius won’t want you hanging around like a bad smell.”
Rashford looked at the sky. “Well, I’ve no intention of hanging around, March, when that time comes. I’m no fool. I haven’t been to fancy Calia or bloody Pitoria. I’ve never slept with a dead demon or poured wine for a prince. I’ve lived in Brigant all my life, and I’ve seen worse things than you could imagine: men hung, drawn, and quartered for nothing; people starved; children run down by men on horseback. I don’t know what’ll happen to me, but I do know, for the first time in my life, I have the power to do whatever I like. I’m going to enjoy that while I can. And I look at you and see someone much the same as me.”
“But you’re not thinking beyond ten days of smoke?”
“I didn’t say that, March. I’m making my own plans. But I’m certainly not going to share them with you.” He leaned close and whispered, “I like you, March, but there’s something about you . . . You’re holding something back. I’m not sure I can trust you yet—with my secrets or with my life. But I hope there’s nothing too bad going on in your head, ’cause from what I hear, my new commanding officer will suss it out.”
“I’m not worried, Rashford. I’ve nothing to hide.”
“Good job. ’Cause you don’t want to get on the wrong side of Prince Harold.”
EDYON
CALIA CASTLE
EDYON SAT beside his father in yet another meeting with the chancellor and Lord Regan. He hoped this one would go better than the last. He was trying to be quiet this time. Trying to be a dutiful son, one who did not enrage his father and who proved his loyalty to the country.
Thelonius was reading a message that had just arrived from Lord Darby.
“The Pitorians are holding their position in the north of Pitoria. Aloysius is still with his main army in Rossarb. The Pitorians believe he’s farming the purple demon smoke but have no idea of the quantity he has. Lord Darby says the Pitorians are convinced of the power of the smoke, and also convinced that the Brigantines plan to attack Calidor as well as Pitoria, and even beyond. Darby is impressed by Queen Catherine, who is firm but reasoned, but concerned because he has not yet seen King Tzsayn, who is still ill from the wounds he suffered when a prisoner of Aloysius. The Pitorian army is a considerable force, even though it has been depleted by a sickness in the last few weeks.”