Her prison had grown, but remained entire. The first night Cora had free rein of the castle, she explored the bounds. Every door she found on the outer walls had been mortared shut.
How are goods moving in and out?
The question stood in her mind as she gathered the ingredients. The pigs in the butchery were still alive, but their brethren stood pink and curing in the cellars. Cora talked with the cooks until they let her part with some of their niter. The baton opened every door, except for the ones out.
Charcoal was everywhere, but the sulfur required Cora to seek out an unpleasant man in charge of the granary storage. He led her to a musty cellar filled with sacks of grain. As soon as she took a breath, she smiled. The air was rancid with the smell of rotten eggs. He was at once loath to part with the orange powder and confused as to why anyone would want his cursed stench. She carried it back to the workroom with dread, thinking of how little grain was left in the stores.
Curing meat and killing vermin. They would have gotten there eventually.
The generals were blind to the process, even as she worked in front of them. The curiosity had long been abandoned for discussions of more pressing matters. Divulging Terndowns secrets made her heart wrench in shame, even to those that had no interest in understanding it.
Each ingredient crumbled under her mortar and pestle. She had drawn schematics for the steel casting for the cannon itself.
It is minute, so the generals do not care. It is minute, so the king is fascinated.
The generals provided the reports for her to take to the king while she worked the pestle into the mortar. She coughed at the egg smell of the yellow powder rising. Cora put a cloth over her nose.
“A messenger from Midgat has arrived.” The man who spoke was old and grizzled. He chewed on an unlit cigar. “The Giants are encroaching. There is little chance of us holding the towers with the forces left behind.”
“The territory can be reclaimed in time, but the Giants can destroy a tower at a whim. Drawing their attention should be avoided, for life and infrastructure to stand.” She didn’t look at the man as she spoke. The mortar had a wide base, sat heavily against the stone table. Cora did not know what this room had been built for, but it had wide and solid rock furnishing.
“Shall we give an order for a full retreat from the north? We will lose the mines if we do.”
Cora looked up and gestured around her, “Can we eat armaments? Armies march on their stomachs, not on swords.”
The man saluted and excused himself from the line of generals. A younger one stepped forward. “The desertion in Switforst is up to a quarter of our men. There is nothing to fight there. The trees cannot burn in snow. They say it is madness to continue.”
“We are not fighting a forest. I agree. The Problem Cases are strong, fast, and growing more intelligent.” Cora gestured for the general to help her lift the large mortar and dump it into the wooden bowl. “We must approach this as though we are fighting rebel forces hiding in the woodland. Break and arm the squadrons with bows. Melee combat is to be avoided at all costs.” They set the mortar back, and she wiped it out with a cloth. “Fan out and map the forest. Each squadron will track, hunt, and clear an area. Then report back and expand the map.”
Cora glanced up at the young man. The look of relief on his face was stark. He saluted and hurried away. She poured the charcoal into the mortar and set upon it with the large stone pestle.
“Lady Coretta.” The general’s voice came out in a rasp. “The garrison in Terndowns…” He paused.
“I am aware of how reticent my people are to your occupation.” Her words were punctuated by a squeaky grinding sound. “Please continue.”
“I must insist; it is hard not to question your loyalties.” The general coughed.
She looked up, glaring down her nose at the scarred man. “If you would prefer to interact with the king directly, I will not prevent you standing in truth before him.”
The man rubbed his fingers against the angry red scars. “The citizens that remain in Terndowns continue to assault us. It is impossible to prove this, but the city itself seems to be attacking. We have lost as many men since our victory as during the assault. Roofs collapse, men are pulled into the ground, poison needles in walls paralyze soldiers.”
“Yes, Mother designed the city well.” Thinking of her mother gave a hitch to her voice, but she continued, “If I could leave the Kalden, I would disarm the city. As it stands now, you should abandon the city proper and set up temporary garrisons in the surrounding fields.”
The scarred man sputtered, “The rebels will retake the land!”
She scooped the charcoal into the wooden bowl. “You will find them willing to interact peacefully if you give them the news that I am the Sovereign of the Unblemished.” She laid her hand on the baton. “They are loyal to me.”
The man saluted. Cora noticed that the hand only had three fingers left in the scars. She wondered if he had been in the gardens when they burned.
One general remained. She began scooping cupfuls of the curing salt into the mortar. “Yes, and you?”
The man’s voice was shaky. “We finally had a runner from the Foothills return alive.”
Cora’s eyes shot up. “What news?”
What is Lissie doing now?
“I don’t believe any of it.”
Cora gestured for him to continue, her gaze hungry.
“If you want to hear it, I’m going to go get him. I know the prowess of the engineers of Terndowns, but this story is absurd.” The man turned away.
“I have to hear it, but I refuse to be dismissed in this way. Tell me what he said that is so unbelievable?” She picked up the baton.
“He spoke of phantom riders on horses made of starlight. I think he got kicked in the head. He said fire erupted from the ground and swallowed up whole squadrons. Men screamed and fell dead, unmarked. He said that the sky was devoured by demons.”
Cora smiled. “Perhaps we should focus our forces on problems closer to Kalden.”