Free She Who Has No Name (The Legacy Trilogy) by Michael Foster Page B

of the world?’
    Anthem answered.  ‘It’s true we have paid little attention to the Paatin wastes beyond the Eastern Reaches, but before this we have never had the need.’  He took a great breath and sighed.  ‘From all indications, we thought those lands to be barren, inhabited only by the odd nomadic family or primitive settlement.  It seems we’ve been proven unquestionably wrong.  It seems that somewhere in the midst of those lands there lies a developed civilisation that we have overlooked entirely until now, a civilisation capable of raising grand armies.’
    ‘The E ast has been examined on occasion, but was deemed unremarkable and unworthy of the Empire’s attention,’ Grand Master Gallivan said, setting his long , black moustache to waver.  ‘The Emperor sent regular scouting parties in the old days, but they all came back with the same news : nothing to see except sand, wind and stone that went on for as far as they could bear.  Many were lost attempting to breach those lands, and so the Paatin wastes were deemed unfit for human habitation.’
    ‘Perhaps these black-skinned barbarians are not human!’ Lord Quimbus piped up, but scathing looks from the gathering had him shutting up just as quickly.
    ‘I have also visited the fringes of the desert,’ Tudor announced.  ‘Likewise Lord Lomar.’  At this, the magician from Kabush nodded in confirmation.  ‘We have seen nothing to suggest any of this is possible.  Yet, somehow, from within those parched lands have come armies of men.’
    ‘With the Emperor scouting every far corner for riches and taking it unto his own, I’m not surprised any inhabitants of the deserts thought best to keep their distance,’ Lord Quimbus said with disdain, but his comments caused the Turian stalwarts in the room—Jacobs and Nottingsworth in particular—to frown with distaste.
    ‘Well, we can’t be rushing to action hastily,’ old Tudor said, ‘but neither can we be sitting on our hands in deliberation.  I’m assuming you’ve already spoken with the Empress at length.’
    ‘We have,’ Anthem responded, ‘but so far with little result.  Unfortunately, the Empress is in experienced in these matters and her advisers have clouded her in a fog of nonsense and bureaucracy.  We may need to throw our fists down and bar them from the room while we speak some sense to her.  Those simpletons refuse to accept the fact that if there is to be any hope of saving the Empire—in any form at all—we must sacrifice some of the outer territories and consolidate our defences within Turia.  Lives will be lost, but the Empire simply cannot afford to spread itself thin.  The O utlands will simply need to fend for themselves.’
    ‘But that’s abominable!’ Master Quimbus rallied.  ‘The invaders are butchering everyone indiscriminately.  We cannot abandon anyone.  It goes against the very conscience of the Order.’
    ‘Actually, I believe the very opposite to be true,’ Anthem said with a measured tongue.  ‘It’s evident that any town that yields is spared, so we should send word to towns in the Outlands to do exactly that.  Any settlements that have resisted the desert people’s call to surrender have been wiped from the earth—every man, woman and child slain without exception.  The buildings are pillaged and then burnt, all the crops laid to waste and salted at great expense.  They are sending a clear and potent message ahead of them.’
    ‘It matters little what we do,’ Master Celios called out.  All eyes turned to him, for he had been quiet until now, barely seeming to take note of the conversation.  Strangely, he seemed to be clenching his fists tight, so that his arms were quivering with the effort.
    ‘Have you something to add to this, Master Celios?  A vision, perhaps?’ Jacobs called out to the balding, bulging-eyed man.
    Celios snatched up his goblet and waved it to the servant waiting behind him.  It was immediately topped up