Arcanum (95 page)

Morgenstern was watching him rather than helping, and Thaler frowned. “What?”

“You’re not too old, you know,” said Morgenstern, “and she’s not too young.”

“What are you talking about?” Then he realised and spluttered. “Good gods, man. I don’t … I can’t … I mean … a man in my position?”

“Oh, stop your kvetching. You stare at her tusch as it sways.”

“I do not. It’s simply preposterous. I’m the master librarian. Librarians don’t marry.”

“You mean like Thomm? Or like the Jewish men you took on.” Morgenstern tucked his book under his arm. “You’ve thrown all the old rules in the midden, Frederik. Jews, women, old men, foreigners, they’re all welcome in the library now. When all this is over, I could get the matchmaker to introduce you.”

“I’ll tell you what’s ridiculous, Aaron Morgenstern: this conversation. We have far more important matters at hand, as do you. Now, hand over that book: our crews will need your tables.”

Morgenstern looked at the book, and crossed his arms over it, holding it to his thin chest. “You’ll just use it wrong, and waste all the work I’ve done. I’ve a mind to come along too.”

“Gods, man. Are you determined to make my blood boil today? I’ll get Bastian to rip it from your cold, dead hands if that’s what it takes.” Thaler took a step forward, and Morgenstern took one back.

“As you say, there are far more important matters to worry about. I’ll sit on a cart. I don’t weigh much.” He took himself away, and pointedly climbed up next to the teamster on the lead wagon. They were using Jewish carters, and he fell into conversation quickly.

Thaler balled his fists and grunted with frustration. If the old man wanted to put up with the hardships of travel, and to rough it in a tent at the other end, then who was he to dissuade him?

The first of the pots was hefted into the waiting cart, and the loaders took time to make sure it was positioned centrally between the two axles. Nothing broke, so Thaler assumed they were competent to load the others, and went to help with stacking the powder.

His powder team seemed more than capable, too. They lifted the kegs one by one, made sure that the metal bands around the barrels were padded with scraps of canvas, and listened to the rattle they made, before moving onto the next.

The fuses, both slow and quick, and the tools and buckets, were loaded with equal care. And the long-barrelled iron pot they’d named Gunnhilde was already safely lashed to the flat of another cart, next to one of Bastian’s new bronze castings. There were two more of these in a different wagon.

“Is there nothing I can do?” he complained loudly, throwing up his hands.

Apparently, there wasn’t. He had managed to delegate all the jobs to people who knew how to do them quickly and well. It didn’t stop him from fussing over them, and it took them until mid-afternoon to load up, strap everything down and cover it all with oil-cloth.

Before they set off, Thaler called them together.

He was surprised at how many people there were. He’d collected a half-century of his own, except his consisted of boys and women, old men and magicians. He knew all their names, and where they came from.

“Good Carinthians and honoured guests,” he said, then climbed up onto a cart and started again. Now he could see them all properly. “The time has come, sooner than we’d have wished, for us to put our knowledge to the test. From what I’ve gleaned, our little force at Kufstein is woefully outnumbered. There will be at least five dwarves – possibly more – to one of us, and we are a peaceable people, unused to war. What we have in these wagons may well be insufficient to turn the battle in our favour, but what use are they sitting here in a field in Juvavum when they could be in the west, bolstering our troops’ resolve and aiding them against the enemy?”

He had meant the question to be rhetorical, but some of them shouted back at him, “No use at all, Master Thaler,” and “The dwarves will turn tail and run at the sound of us.”

“That they might. We have to be prepared to keep going until the last keg of powder is cracked, the last ball and shell sent, until the barrels overheat and melt with the fury of our bombard. We will fight for our homes and our honour, as any freeborn man or woman is bound to do. If we fail, we go to our deaths knowing we did our best. If we win, we will be able to hold our heads high among the host and say we were the pivot about which the battle turned. I hope that these weapons of war stay silent forever afterwards, that we’ll be able to turn them back into frying pans and ploughshares. But, for now, they’ll bark our displeasure and show our foes that ordinary people, people like us, can control the very elements of nature when roused.

“So be glad that we live in times like this. Our investigations of the natural order have only just begun. Who knows what marvels we’ll have by next week, next month, next year? We have some already, and many more wait for our return. So if you want to fight for something, fight for the future, the time to come. Carinthia has been reborn, and it takes its first steps in the world. Let us not be the cause of its stumbling.”

He rested his hands on his hips. Had that gone well? They were silent, open-mouthed even. Or was that boredom? He’d better get on with it.

“Some of us will ride for a time while some will walk. All of us will help. The road is, I’m told, a little bumpy, so pushing may be needed. Organise yourselves as you see fit. Aaron? You have the lead.”

Morgenstern looked unduly pleased with his duties, even if all he had to do was nudge the carter next to him. The man flicked his whip, and the pair of oxen deigned to stop chewing the grass long enough to put one hoof in front of the other.

The cart creaked and rumbled on, heading towards the bridge over the Salzach. Some of the wagons needed a shove to get them going, but none had sunk irrevocably into the soft pasture. Thaler watched with satisfaction as the last cart clattered into the life, and the last powder crew followed it.

“Master Thaler?”

“Gods, woman,” said Thaler, clutching his chest. “I should have learnt to expect this by now, but please, make some sound when you approach.”

“Apologies, Master,” said Tuomanen, her expression one far removed from apologetic. “Are we going, too, or were those fine words just for others?”

“You impugn my honour, Mistress.” He strode off behind a screen, and came back with an ash walking-stick and a little felt hat. The hat was green, with a short brown feather stitched onto the side. He slid the hat onto his head and pulled its brim down. “Now we’re ready.”

They set off, behind everyone.

“I’ve done what you asked,” she said, looking to see if there were any eavesdroppers.

“Ah, that. Excellent. Any problems?” His walking-stick was just the right height for him, its horn handle smooth and dry in his hand.

“No. The shelves look a bit bare now, but if anyone checks the missing titles against the catalogue, they’ll see they’re all lent out in different names.”

“And Master Wess has them all under lock and key?”

“Better than that. He was aware of a certain room in a certain house that had often been used for hiding contraband books. That’s where they are.”

“Aaron’s? I take it he doesn’t know?”

“I don’t think he’s been back to his house in weeks. No one saw us, and we can retrieve them the same way.” Tuomanen smirked. “I never took you for sneaky, Master Thaler.”

“Sneaky? My dear lady, it’s merely a prudent precaution. There will be casualties, it is quite inevitable, and just as inevitable that some, if they’re desperate enough, will want their loved ones to be, how do we say, restored to wellness.” He tutted. “Better we remove temptation before it becomes an issue.”

“I thought …” She looked at him. “I thought you meant something else.”

Thaler coughed. “Else? What else could there be?”

“An army of the dead, doing the will of the spell-caster, howling their pain and desolation and not stopping until each one has been all but dismembered. That’s not the temptation of a parent who’s lost their child, but the temptation of a king who’s about to lose his kingdom.”

“Felix would never consent to that.”

“I wasn’t thinking it would be others begging him to do it. It would be him demanding it was done.”

Thaler gave her a sideways glance. “Would you do it?”

She bent down and picked a white meadow flower, all without breaking step. “I’ve sworn my oath of obedience,” she said.

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

Tuomanen tucked the flower behind her ear. She usually wore her hair so it covered the slightly pointed tips of them, far more self-conscious of that difference than she was of the tattoos that covered her. But there it was, the white flower caught between her elvish ear and her tucked-in dark hair. She considered her words.

“If Felix demanded I practise necromancy and raise a horde of unthinking, unfeeling dead to fight for him, I’d spit in his face and tell him he was no prince of mine.”

“And your former colleagues?”

“Oh, they’d do it, and not even reluctantly.” She snorted a sarcastic laugh. “You’re wiser than you know.”

“As long as no one asks Master Wess where the books are. I’m not certain of his firmness under interrogation.” The first cart with Aaron Morgenstern on board was climbing the rise of the bridge. “Are there any guards left?”

Tuomanen squinted into the distance. “A couple. I’m certain Mr Morgenstern can handle them. You could always destroy the books.”

“I have never done such a thing, and I will never do so.”

His indignation was fake, and she saw through his act.

“What did you tell Master Wess?”

“Just to make certain, if the circumstances warrant it.” Thaler puckered his lips. “How very distasteful.”

Up ahead, the carts breezed through any administrative objection that might have been raised. The oxen turned right and headed along the quay towards the West Gate. Some of the more heavily laden wagons needed help up the bridge, and extra braking on the way back down; everyone did their part without asking. By the time Thaler and Tuomanen strode past the guard post, the way was clear and all Thaler had to do was doff his cap to the spearmen and wish them good day.

The head of the caravan was already out of the gate on the München road. Their way was set, their destination fixed.

Thaler looked up at the stone arch of the gatehouse as they passed under it. She had called him wise, but what about this expedition? Aaron thought it was nothing but a folly hat worn with a hubris coat, yet he was still coming with them, along with the entirety of his crew. Not one had backed out: that had to count for something, surely.

“Is that,” Tuomanen asked, pointing at Thaler’s walking-stick, “is that handle carved from unicorn horn?”

“Yes,” said Thaler. “Yes it is. I happened to have one lying around and thought I’d put it to good use. Since, well, you don’t need it any more.”

He stepped out from under the shadow of the gate, and felt strangely calm.

A rider galloped towards her across the Rosenheim bridge, and Sophia instantly thought that she was too late, that the dwarves were already on them, Kufstein overrun and Felix killed.

She’d no idea what she’d do if that was the message. It was already dusk, and the road was barely visible in the dark. They had nowhere left to go: if the enemy was indeed on them, then they’d have to fight where they were, no matter how exhausted they might be.

“My lady,” called the rider, and pulled up next to her.

Her heart stopped while she waited for the next few words.

“My lord Felix sends his best wishes and, if my lady can manage another ten miles, wonders if she cares to join him for dinner.”

Her relief was like ducking down into the freezing waters of the mikveh, then surfacing with a shout.

“Are we fighting yet?”

“Skirmishing only. The dwarves are some ten miles from the crag at Kufstein, and have halted for the night. We’ve had the better of it today, for certain.” The rider looked past Sophia at her strung-out, rag-tag army. “There’s tents – probably enough for everyone, as long as they don’t mind lying on their sides – and cook pots and firewood, in the field south of the town.”

“I’ll leave Master Ullmann in charge,” she said at once, and knew it to be the right decision. She needed to talk to Felix, and she needed Ullmann not to be there when she did.

“As soon as you’re ready, my lady. The way up the valley’s not easy in the dark, and I’d rather not have to explain to my lord why we broke both our own necks and those of the horses.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said, and rode back the short distance to Ullmann. “I’m riding on to Kufstein. You’re in charge, both tonight and in the morning. Make sure that everyone’s ready to move off at dawn. The dwarves will attack tomorrow, and I want us to be ready and to know our parts.”

Ullmann seemed strangely subdued. He looked up at her, and agreed with a simple “My lady.”

Sophia frowned, but there wasn’t time to worry about what the problem was; it would have to wait. She wheeled around again to meet her escort, and they trotted on across the bridge, along the road crossing the marshy wetlands, and then south towards the mouth of the valley.

“Tell me about the fighting,” she said.

“Not much to say, my lady. The dwarves have these covered wagons that they’re pushing down the valley. We’ve been felling trees in their path; when they come out to clear these, we shoot a few of them. They chase us off, and we get to shoot a few more; then we do it all again a few hundred feet down the path. Gods only know what they’re doing, but their tactics are costing them dearly so far.”

“We should be grateful. How long is it since the dwarves have fought a battle?”

“Not since Roman times, if the stories are anything to go by.”

“Well then,” said Sophia, “perhaps they’re even worse at this than we are. What’s happening on the east side of the river?”

“There’s barely a cart track on that bank, but they’re still pressing down with their wagons all the same. More dwarves in the open, cutting their way through. We’ve popped a few bolts at them, but their progress is slow already, and they can’t match the progress of those on the west side of the Enn. They may even reach Kufstein too late to join the fighting.”