A Burning Sea by Theodore Brun (i am reading a book txt) 📕

men only know the exact composition. We call them the “Brilliant Ones”.’ He smiled. ‘Our little joke. Here –’ he beckoned her to follow again – ‘you can meet one of them.’

Lilla followed, feeling both intrigued and excited. There was another great whoosh of flame and this time she wasn’t startled, but watched with silent fascination. She felt a dark thrill at the power of the thing, feeling its heat prick at her face. She thought of her promise to her dead husband. If somehow she could gain the use of this. . . weapon, perhaps then she would be able to keep her word to him.

They approached a far corner of the cistern where the walls were more brightly lit. There were several men working at benches where there were sets of scales and pots of various powders and some larger vats of liquid set on pallets on the ground. In another area, a man was tapping a little hammer at a narrow piece of piping.

‘Nikolaos,’ called Leo softly. A man bent over a set of scales rose from his bench and squinted into the half-gloom. Seeing them, his expression fell. ‘Majesty,’ he gulped and made to kneel.

‘There’s no need for that. Please.’

The man straightened.

‘There, that’s better. Now – I want you meet a guest of mine.’

Nikolaos dusted off his hands as Leo presented Lilla to him, explaining who she was. The man was very tall for a Byzantine, with a smooth dimpled face and long elegant fingers. He bowed self-consciously over her hand. ‘My lady,’ he said, his voice smooth but sonorous. ‘It’s an honour to receive you here.’

‘Tell her what you’re doing.’

‘Yes, of course, sire. We are testing a new syphon this morning.’

‘It seems to be working.’ Leo gave a dry chuckle.

The man stroked nervously at the bridge of his nose. ‘Well – almost, sire. The viscosity is still not quite right.’

‘It’s impressive, nonetheless,’ Lilla offered. ‘Yes. . . And rather horrifying, don’t you think?’ he added, with another nervous pluck at his nose.

‘Isn’t that the point?’

‘Yes. I suppose it is.’ The man’s eyes darted like a bird’s, seeming ill at ease in new company.

‘Go on,’ urged Leo. ‘Tell her how the thing works.’

‘Majesty?’ The fire-maker’s smooth brow crumpled in a frown.

‘Well?’

‘I thought, in light of what you told us two days ago—’

‘What? No! Good God – Queen Lilla is no threat. She’s never even seen an Arab! Go on – explain it to her. Not the detail, man – the principle, the principle!’

‘As you wish, Majesty.’ And so he did, looking decidedly uncomfortable at first, but soon warming to his own expertise and the readiness with which she drank in his every word. It seemed the genius of it was a combination between both the mechanics of the syphon machine and the composition of the liquid itself. But she felt that his explanation left the details deliberately vague.

‘Of course, it’s all rather precise. Any mistakes and. . . well, it doesn’t work.’

‘Fascinating. Still, it must be rather gloomy, working down here, so far from daylight. I feel rather sorry for you.’

‘Nonsense,’ growled Leo. ‘We pay him well enough, I assure you. Besides, it’s his vocation.’

Nikolaos smiled at Lilla. He had a gentle face, pale and sensitive. ‘Your concern is kind, my lady. But the emperor is right. Our father came from Antioch. He lost his lands to the infidel when Syria fell. He never forgot it, nor would he let us forget. I suppose this was his way to take back something of all that he lost.’

‘By burning men to death?’ she said, in a voice innocent as a lamb.

‘By saving an empire!’ Nikolaos blustered. ‘He saved many lives. Saved a way of life.’

‘The city will always honour his name for it,’ said Leo reassuringly.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ve offended you.’

Nikolaos merely smiled but the wound was plain to see.

‘How can I make it up to you?’

‘There’s no need—’

‘Truly, I must.’

‘Well. . .’ He hesitated, apparently too coy to go on.

‘Please.’

‘I thought that. . . well, it would give me great pleasure if you would call on me. Lord forgive me, but the work down here can be. . . so dull. I should like to hear something of where you’re from.’

Inwardly she smiled. ‘And I should like to tell you.’

CHAPTER THIRTY

Erlan had waited patiently for five days. But tonight, at last, was his opportunity.

He hadn’t wasted the intervening hours. He spent them looking for a foothold – anything that might give him the leverage to bring the siege to a swifter end. And now, perhaps, he had found one.

The Bulgars.

Alexios had given them to him, so to speak. Since the crisis at the Karisios Gate, the commander of the emperor’s guard granted Erlan a certain grudging respect. He’d even decided to overlook the embarrassment Erlan had caused him in the Great Church. So when Erlan came seeking counsel, Alexios was terse as ever, but at least willing to talk.

There was nothing they could do but wait, he’d said at first. The garrison inside the walls was down to fifteen thousand spears. The host outside numbered close to eighty thousand still, and more with the remaining fleet and marines. There was no question of seeking battle. And no hope of relief from anywhere inside the empire. Asia Minor was a wasteland. Those towns that had not already fallen were beset on all sides by Arab forces. The countryside was awash with brigands and bands of raiders. Wild beasts roamed the borderlands. ‘Make no mistake. The empire is fighting for its life.’

‘There must be another ally somewhere,’ Erlan had countered. ‘Or an army, at least.’

‘Only the Bulgars.’

‘Who are they?’

‘They were our enemies not forty years ago. They’re nomads – well, they were. They settled to the north, on the plains west of the Friendly Sea, less than a hundred years ago if the chronicles don’t lie.’

‘How many can they muster?’

‘I’ve heard over a hundred and twenty thousand. But who knows? Maybe more.’

‘A hundred