The Merchant’s War

"Messenger for Helmut, or whoever's in charge, immediate: sweep the cellars for explosive charges." The duke paused for a moment. "He's not to attempt to sally from the keep until Stefan's unit is in place to take out the machine guns." Olga glanced over her shoulder: the second platoon, with their heavy equipment, were already climbing the siege tower. "Instead, he's to ensure there are no surprises in the cellars under the keep. I think the pretender's trying to be clever." He delivered the final word with contemptuous satisfaction. "What-"

There was some kind of disturbance going on at the perimeter. Even as Braun charged off to brief a courier, and the heavy weapons platoon climbed the lower and vanished from its top deck three at a time, a distant noise reached Olga's ears, like the throbbing growl of distant traffic. She glanced up. Lightning Child! Not here, not now! A pair of guards detached themselves from the group near the awning and trotted towards the table. Re-flexively, she moved her right hand close to her jacket pocket, interposing herself.

The first of the guards stopped three meters short and saluted. Olga relaxed slightly, for a moment. "Sir! We have hostiles in view. Sergeant Bjorg is calling a Threat Red."

"How many hostiles?" asked the duke, as if it was a minor point of interest.

Olga cleared her throat. "Sir, I think we should evacuate now."

"Two choppers overhead at last sighting, sir, but it's not looking good on the ground, either: there've been no cars or trucks for a couple of minutes now." The throbbing was getting louder. Almost as if-

The duke shook himself. "Get everyone across immediately!" he barked. He pointedly refrained from looking up. "Third platoon, provide covering fire if necessary. Olga!"

"Your grace?" She stared at him.

"You're going across right now, with the headquarters staff. Keep an eye on Hjorth-he's mostly got our interests at heart, if he's smart enough to understand where they lie." The duke gestured at the siege tower. "Get moving!"

"But they're-" The bass roar of rotor blades was unmistakable now: not just one set, but the throb of multiple helicopters. Olga set her jaw. "After you, my lord!"

"You- " For a moment, the duke looked furious: then he nodded tightly, and stalked towards the tower. A squad from the third platoon raced to take up positions around the entrance and behind the low awning, as the duke's staff hurriedly grabbed their papers and equipment and trotted towards the platform from which they could cross into the treason room.

Olga ducked over to the side of the map table and retrieved her rifle and kit-a very non-standard item, more suitable for a sniper than a soldier-then followed the exodus towards the tower. The roof of the tent billowed beneath the thunder, and for a terrifying moment she wondered if she was about to see a SWAT team dropping right through the fabric roof on ropes-but no, the cops won't do that: they'll go for a siege. Unless-

The voice of an angry god battered through the walls. "Come out with your hands up! You have ten seconds to comply!"

Olga grimaced. Bastards, she thought absently. For a routine weekly briefing this was certainly turning out to be an interesting one. I wonder how they tracked us? It couldn't be the phone Mike had given her-that wasn't even in the same county.

The queue at the tower had backed up, bottlenecked at the foot of the stairs, but it was moving fast, the world-walkers jumping as soon as they reached the top step with reckless disregard for whatever might be waiting for them on the other side. Olga could see the duke up ahead, near the top step. He glanced over his shoulder as if looking for her, then reached the platform and disappeared. She took a deep breath, relieved. The throbbing roar of rotor blades and the flapping of the canvas roof were making it hard to think: But we were negotiating: why attack now! she thought. Why? It made little sense. Unless they think-

A punishingly loud blast of gunfire ripped through the side of the tent, slapping the fire team behind the main entrance into the ground. "We can see you. Drop your weapons and come out immediately! "

Olga stared at the mangled bodies for a fraction of a second, then forced herself to palm her locket open and focus. Some of the surviving guards were shooting blind, suppressive fire through the walls of the tent, while ahead of her half the bodies in the queue were doing just as he was-trying to cross over blind, heedless of hazard. Some of them would make it, some wouldn't, but at least