Best Served Cold

“Don’t let that worry you.” He regained control of his feet. “I’m not a religious man, but I very much doubt anyone will be letting either of us near heaven.”

“Blown to hell, then.”

“A much stronger possibility.”

Sesaria grunted as he ever so gingerly shifted the last of the barrels up tight to the rest. “All the others out?”

“They should be back in the trenches by now.”

The big man wiped his hands on his grimy shirt. “Then we’re ready, General.”

“Excellent. These last few days have positively crawled. It’s a crime, when you think about how little time we get, that a man should ever be bored. When you’re lying on your deathbed, I expect you regret those weeks wasted more than your worst mistakes.”

“You should have said if you had nothing pressing. We could have used your help digging.”

“At my age? The only place I’ll be moving soil is on the latrine. And even that’s a lot more work than it used to be. What happens now?”

“I hear it only gets harder.”

“Very good. I meant with the mine.”

Sesaria pointed to the trail of black powder, grains gleaming in the lamplight, stopping well short of the nearest keg. “That leads to the entrance to the mine.” He patted a bag at his belt. “We join it up to the barrels, leave plenty of extra at the end to make sure it takes. We get to the mouth of the tunnel, we set a spark to one end, then-”

“The fire follows it all the way to the barrels and… how big will the explosion be?”

Sesaria shook his head. “Never seen a quarter as much powder used at one time. That and they keep mixing it stronger. This new stuff… I have a worry it might be too big.”

“Better a grand gesture than a disappointing one.”

“Unless it brings the whole mountain down on us.”

“It could do that?”

“Who knows what it’ll do?”

Cosca considered the thousands of tons of rock above their heads without enthusiasm. “It’s a little late for second thoughts. Victus has his picked men ready for the assault. Rogont will be king tonight, and he’s expecting to honour us with his majestic presence at dawn, and very much inside the fortress so he can order the final attack. I’m damned if I’m going to spend my morning listening to that fool whine at me. Especially with a crown on.”

“You think he’ll wear it, day to day?”

Cosca scratched thoughtfully at his neck. “Do you know, I’ve no idea. But it’s somewhat beside the point.”

“True.” Sesaria frowned at the barrels. “Doesn’t seem right, somehow. You dig a hole, you touch a torch to some dust, you run and-”

“Pop,” said Cosca.

“No need for thinking. No need for courage. No way to fight, if you’re asking me.”

“The only good way to fight is the one that kills your enemy and leaves you with the breath to laugh. If science can simplify the process, well, so much the better. Everything else is flimflam. Let’s get started.”

“I hear my captain general and obey.” Sesaria pulled the bag from his belt, bent down and started carefully tipping powder out, joining the trail up to the barrels. “Got to think about how you’d feel, though, haven’t you?”

“Have you?”

“One moment you’re going about your business, the next you’re blasted to bits. Never get to even look your killer in his face.”

“No different from giving others the orders. Is killing a man with powder any worse than getting someone else to stab him with a spear? When exactly did you last look a man in the face?” Not when he’d happily helped stab Cosca in the back at Afieri, that was sure.

Sesaria sighed, powder trickling out across the ground. “True, maybe. But sometimes I miss the old days, you know. Back when Sazine was in charge. Seemed like a different world, then. A more honest world.”

Cosca snorted. “You know as well as I do there wasn’t a dirty trick this side of hell Sazine would have balked at using. That old miser would have blown the world up if he thought a penny would fall out.”

“Daresay you’ve the truth of it. Doesn’t seem fair, though.”

“I never realised you were such an enthusiast for fair.”

“It’s no deal-breaker, but I’d rather win a fair fight than an unfair one.” He upended the bag, the last powder sliding out and leaving a glittering heap right against the side of the nearest barrel. “Leaves a better taste, somehow, fighting by some kind of rules.”

“Huh.” Cosca clubbed him across the back of the head with his lamp, sending up a shower of sparks and knocking Sesaria sprawling on his face. “This is war. There are no rules.” The big man groaned, shifted, struggled weakly to push himself up. Cosca leaned down, raised the lamp high and bashed him on the skull again with a crunching of breaking glass, knocked him flat, embers sizzling in his hair. A little closer to the powder than was comfortable, perhaps, but Cosca had always loved to gamble.