The news of the Battle on the Highway reaches the palace overnight causing distress and confusion. Although Milsy is disturbed by what she hears, she knows that rumor will only make everything sound worse. At the Coke Works, the inauguration goes ahead with some setbacks while later, she finally meets some of those returning from the north.

What Milsy Did

by Penny Lane

28 - The Shock of Battle

Disclaimer: The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended. This story is copyright (c) 2017 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.

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Bing-bing-bing. Bing-bing-bing. Bing-bing-bing.

Milsy struggled up out of the depths of sleep at the distant sounds. When she saw it was still full dark she wondered what was happening and stilled herself, listening for any other noises that might tell her anything useful.

There was nothing. No shouts, no sounds of boots running through corridors to duty stations. After a while the bell ceased and she lay there, thinking.

That was the alarm bell! Three bells means that the palace is under attack... doesn't it? So why aren't there more sounds? Even in a building this big, surely I would hear something!

Thinking about it, we can only just hear the Great Clock in here. I can only just hear that alarm bell, though it might be louder out in the laboratory... which could explain why I don't hear anything else in here. I'm isolated here, no corridors run past these chambers, as they did when I was up in Elizet's suite... no, Garia's suite now. Why would I hear anything?

There was a thought that maybe she should do something. Should I go and look?

Would I just be getting in everyone's way? If I go and look, then I must needs dress, and that means wakening Bursila, if she is not already awake, and it may all be for nothing. If I do dress, it may still be the middle of the night and it could be many bells, many cold bells, before breakfast is started.

Having convinced herself that there was no point rising, she drifted back into fitful sleep.

She was woken again by a steady tapping at her bedroom door. When she opened her eyes it was to see that it was the twilight before dawn, so some time since the previous disturbance. She hoisted herself up onto her elbows and called.

"Come in."

It was Tord, looking most apologetic, with Bursila hovering over his shoulder.

"Mistress, I am very sorry to have disturbed you so early, but I thought that it would be well for you to know what has happened."

The sleep washed out of her body instantly and she sat upright, now fully alert. "What has happened, Tord?"

"Mistress, Prince Keren and Lady Garia's party were surprised by a large party of attackers soon after they left South Slip yesterday. A full battle was fought along the highway."

Milsy gasped. She had been wrong and Gullbrand right! "The Prince... Lady Garia... do they survive?"

"They do, Mistress, along with many of their party... although, the brief message that came during the night spoke of hundreds dead."

"Hundreds? But, I didn't think so many went north with the Prince! Do you know - of course, you probably do not. A message in the night, you said? That was when the alarm bells went, I would guess."

Tord nodded. "You are right, Mistress. I can tell you that the message came from Lord Gilbanar and he considers that the battle was won despite the numbers mentioned."

"Lord Gilbanar! He managed to cross the Sirrel and save them, then?"

"Mistress, I could not say, only to tell you that Captain Merek considers that there is presently no danger to either palace or city, and that every precaution will be taken to prevent any further incidents."

Milsy let out a breath. "That is good news, of a sort. Thank you, Tord, for telling me this way. I bet the whole palace is thick with rumor?"

Tord made a small smile. "As you say, Mistress. The message was brief but doubtless we will learn the truth when the Prince arrives later today with his party."

With a muttered apology Bursila slid past Tord and came into the bedroom, fetching Milsy's fluffy robe and handing it to her. Milsy swung out of bed and wrapped the robe around herself, her feet automatically searching for her slippers.

"What happens now? What time is it?"

"About a bell and a half before dawn, Mistress. As you may realize, many of the palace are already up and around and I do not doubt there will be hot water should you wish to rise now. It is even possible that once you have dressed breakfast will also be ready. Many of His Majesty's men have been awake these past few bells and I am certain they will be hungry by now."

"That sounds like a good idea, Tord. My thanks to you for bringing me this news."

"Better this way, Mistress, than finding out when you break your fast. Who knows what tales will be spoken of by then?"

Milsy smiled. "As you say. I know what happens to stories once servants get hold of them."

Tord looked embarrassed. "Mistress, there could be a problem. Captain Merek considers that the laboratory to be a possible risk as there are doors to courtyards both sides, so with your permission he desires that I place two men at the near laboratory door as well as the corridor door, and to request that you keep yourself within the personal quarters until we are certain the palace is clear."

Milsy considered this. "I thought you just told me that the palace was deemed safe? Very well, I can understand the way the Captain is thinking. I'm only going to bathe and dress anyway, and then go to the dining room and find something to eat. Can I do that?"

"Certainly, Mistress." Tord straightened. "Then, by your leave, I'll leave you to your business and go about mine."

"As you will." As Tord turned away she asked, "Oh, Tord! Do we know who carried out this attack?"

"Why Mistress, did I not say? It was those of Yod." His tone implied that he was stating the obvious. He added, "You understand that this means war? There has been a battle fought on Palarandi soil. Now, I am but an armsman, not a Captain or Marshal, but I deem the King cannot let this insult go unanswered. I would warn you, much may be changed in the next few days."

"Yes, of course. Thank you, Tord."

Tord saluted and retired to arrange his sentry posts. Milsy and Bursila headed for the bathroom and toilet.

"This is grave news, Mistress."

"Aye." Milsy couldn't think of much to say. In the circumstances, there was little point until they learned more. "Shall you pull for water while I use the toilet?"

"As you wish, Mistress."

Although Milsy was going out later that morning she chose an ordinary day dress to start the day, though she noted that the thinner material meant that she wasn't as warm as she would have wished. Her escort took her the short distance to the dining room and then positioned themselves outside, amongst the other guardsmen present.

Inside, many of those who had already risen were sitting casually at the tables, talking among themselves. Robanar and Merek were present, as were Gullbrand and Lars, but neither Terys nor Eriana had yet made an appearance. Neither had any food been provided yet, although many of those present nursed mugs which probably contained pel. Milsy walked across to the King's table and curtseyed.

"Your Majesty, good morning."

Robanar smiled at her, although his face showed the worry he felt. "Good morning to you, Milsy. I trust your night was not too disturbed?"

"I did hear the alarm bells, Sire, but decided that if it were really important somebody would come and warn us. No-one did until Tord came about half a bell ago."

"Ah, so you have heard?"

"I'm not sure how much the message said, Sire, and how much was passed on," she replied cautiously.

Robanar's grin was genuine this time. "And you desire to find out as much as you can? I can understand that, I suppose. To know that you know nothing is to fear, I deem."

"Sire, what I mostly need to know is, will it be safe for me to go into the city this morning as planned?"

"Oh, to the... inauguration, was it? Aye, I would think that is permissible. As to what happened, I can tell you briefly. Keren and Garia crossed the river as planned yesterday morning and began their ride south. Some time later, perhaps a bell, two bells, we do not know, their caravan was beset by a large number of men in brown uniforms of a strange kind and battle was joined. Keren's party fought off the attackers, who had new..." Robanar paused, considering, and then shook his head. "...never mind that now."

Robanar did not think that this was the time or place to mention a concept that until now had only been spoken of at council. He resumed, "The attack was distantly visible from the King's Tower at Dekarran and Gilbanar crossed the river to give succor when the tide permitted. When he reached the place he found the battle already ended with many dead, wounded and prisoners. After some rest and cleaning up, Keren's party were able to continue to a road house to recover overnight. They should arrive here sometime this afternoon, I deem."

"Sire, Tord spoke of Yod."

Robanar's expression was grim. "Aye. It is almost certain those of Yod did this. It seems they may have ventured downriver from Joth overnight to Sheldane, which they apparently captured and used as a base for their attack." He sighed. "It will mean war, of course. First, though, I would have my son and Garia back here whole, that I may discover exactly what happened yesterday. As for you, my dear," he smiled again, "your suggestion yesterday was a good one. If you would go into the city as planned, there will be less complication for those who remain."

"As you command, Sire."

Merek coughed. "By your leave, Mistress, of course you still resemble Lady Garia and it seems that those of Yod will go to extraordinary lengths to obtain her or to kill her. I would therefore strengthen your escort this day."

"Captain, you'll have no argument from me. But, remember what was said when we began this whole deception, sir, that if necessary I am expendable. Lady Garia is the more important person."

Robanar grunted. "My dear, I must disagree. You are as important to Palarand as Garia is, I find, and I insist that you are protected as fully as she may be."

Milsy curtseyed with a blush. "I am corrected, Sire. And now I should interrupt your discussion no further, Sire. If you would excuse me?"

"Aye, of course." He gestured with an arm. "Find yourself a chair, I doubt not that the kitchens will provide us breakfast shortly. There is pel already if you desire it."

It seemed natural for her to sit next to Gullbrand again and she did so as Bursila fetched a mug of pel from the serving table.

"Good morrow, Mistress. The King has told you the news, I deem?"

"Good morning, Master Gullbrand. Aye, I have heard. I must give you apology, it seems that you were right and I was wrong. Have you yet spoken to Her Highness?"

His expression was rueful. "I have not, Mistress, I would not dare to wake her during the night, even when such events have happened. I would guess that the sounding of the alarm bell, though, woke her as it wakened myself and Lars. She will probably have guessed what happened, we discussed the matter last night before we parted." He looked grim. "I doubt either of us could have divined the truth, Mistress. Tell me, what do you make of the King's words? I assume he told you what he told me, he spoke of a great battle with hundreds dead."

"Master Gullbrand, the news terrified me at first, but the numbers do not make sense. I strongly doubt that Prince Keren's party numbered anywhere as many as a hundred, even if they have brought some extra people back from Blackstone. I do know that no more than thirty set forth from Dekarran to travel north, because I watched them do so. That being so, I cannot believe that the attackers numbered so many, or that they were so poor in quality that so many died." She shook her head. "I can only think the numbers have been wrongly counted or, perhaps, wrongly reported. Their party will arrive during the afternoon, His Majesty tells me, so we may learn more then."

"Ah, I thought that something sounded wrong when he spoke to me. In Einnland, when there are disagreements among the various towns and a fight develops, there would not be as many as a hundred warriors involved altogether, though I will admit Palarand is larger so the numbers might be greater. Tell me, if the battle took place yesterday morning, why has it taken so long for news to reach the palace? Is Palarand so large, then?"

"Well... When I made that same journey from South Slip to the palace, it took us two days, but then I was traveling in the company of the King and Queen and their procession was enormous. I was told that usually a merchant's wagon, for example, would take about a day and a half or so. You have traveled behind a dranakh?"

Gullbrand nodded. "Aye, Mistress, when we were taken to Brankane in Plif. So... that provides me with an idea of the speed involved and thus the distance. I see."

Milsy added, "But if you're riding a frayen, you may travel much faster. I think, though I do not know for sure, that a messenger could ride from South Slip to the palace in a day, though I understand it is usual for them to change mounts along the way."

"So... a messenger could set off after the battle, then, probably at lunch time or mayhap even later, to come to Palarand to bring the news, is that so? Then he must have ridden through the night, I deem."

"Almost certainly, Master Gullbrand. That highway is a straight line and there should have been sufficient moonlight last night that he could have done so. The messenger service does not usually ride at night, for obvious reasons, but in this case Duke Gilbanar would certainly wish the King to learn such news as quickly as possible."

"As you say."

Kitchen servants began appearing bearing trays of dishes that steamed. Bursila and Lars walked over and joined the other serving staff who began filling bowls and plates which they brought to the tables. Milsy accepted the spoon which Bursila offered and began to eat. Gullbrand, for his part, chose to begin with fruit which he sliced with his own knife.

When they were about halfway through their serving the door opened and Terys and Eriana appeared. The entire room, including the King, rose and made the appropriate gestures. Terys waved her hand at those present in acknowledgement and then accompanied Eriana over to sit either side of Robanar. Everyone else resumed their meals except Gullbrand, who bowed to Milsy.

"If you would excuse me, Mistress, I must pay my respects to my principal."

He moved off and walked around the tables to stand behind Eriana, who turned to him and smiled. They appeared to exchange a few words before he returned and reseated himself beside Milsy.

"I thought she would be upset," Milsy remarked. "The Queen is, as I would expect, but Her Highness is not."

"Perhaps we look at such battles in a different way than you do here," Gullbrand replied. "We have had word that the battle was won and the Prince survived. That informs Her Highness that the man she intends to marry has led his men in battle and won and is thus worthy of her attentions. Would you not consider the same should your own man be victor in such a fight?"

She was surprised. "Well, Master Gullbrand, I'm not so sure that I would, I would just be relieved that he had survived whatever had happened. The fact that he had won or lost would not be so important to a woman, I deem," she glanced at the other table, "unless, perhaps, she was a Princess. They are governed by different expectations than normal people."

He thought carefully then reached for a slice of toast. "I fear we must differ on this point, Mistress. I am reminded again just how different the customs and expectations are here to those in Einnland. Aye, those of rank have responsibilities and privileges we of the lower tables do not -"

Milsy looked at him enquiringly and Gullbrand explained, "In Einnland the King would never dream of sitting among his people as King Robanar does here. He has a separate table raised on a low platform, which in this hall would be placed across the ends of the tables of the ordinary diners. Either side of him would be his favorites, none would sit facing him." He added, "Having only experienced the arrangement of Palarand for a scant few days, I must say that I approve it. This is a refreshing way to eat together and ensures that His Majesty has the ear of any who desire it."

"I believe, though I do not of course know, that this custom is practiced throughout the Great Valley," Milsy told him. "We are all the same people, really, and our customs are much the same."

"So I understand, Mistress, which is why our royal family and those who immediately serve them, like myself, must needs learn the language of the Sirrel, since most who manage to visit Einnland will know that tongue." He changed the subject. "Mistress, will you greet those that arrive today? Do you know what the procedure may be? Again, this is unlike anything that might happen in Einnland."

Her smile was apologetic. "I'm sorry, Master Gullbrand, I have an engagement made previously which means that I will probably be elsewhere in the city when they arrive. I'm not sure when I will return and I don't know how the Prince will be received when his party returns. Um, the best person to ask would probably be Captain Merek, if you can catch him before he disappears. He will be very busy today, I deem. The message spoke of injured and prisoners returning with the party."

"As you say! I will certainly do that when I have finished at table. But, what is so important that it takes you away from the homecoming of His Majesty's son?"

Milsy grimaced. "This could be a little awkward to describe, Master Gullbrand. Have you heard of a rock called coal?"

The next several moments were difficult as Milsy attempted, without success, to describe firstly a rock that could be burned and then a process you could do to that rock which would make it burn better. At the end Gullbrand merely shook his head.

"If you say it is true, Mistress, then I must believe you, but this is beyond anything in my experience."

"We have a sample setup in the laboratory over there," she said, "and, with the King's permission I can show you exactly what coal is and what happens when you heat it."

"Ah, Mistress, with the Prince back in the palace I fear that all my time will be taken up attending Her Highness and her needs. If, however, I may find some time I would accept your offer of a demonstration."

"Done, Master Gullbrand."

Robanar stood, but before anyone else could make a move he raised his hand.

"Continue eating, everyone. I must attend to pressing matters but that is no reason for anyone else to interrupt their breakfast. Merek, shall you join me?"

The two swept out of the room leaving many diners staring thoughtfully after them. Milsy discovered that her appetite had gone so drained her mug and stood, Gullbrand also standing out of respect.

"Thank you, Master Gullbrand. I had better go and change, ready for going out. I have no idea when I will return to the palace but everybody knows that I might return late."

"As you say, Mistress. The Gods grant that your business will be successful today."

She nodded to him and left, collecting her enlarged escort along the way.

She smiled at Tord. "Do I really need all of you just to walk twenty strides along one corridor?"

Tord smiled back. "It does seem as if we are too cautious, Mistress, does it not? However, whenever I see you in the distance I am reminded how closely you still resemble Lady Garia, and, with recent events, I deem that Captain Merek is right to be so cautious." They stopped at the door to the Questor's quarters. "If I may ask, what is it you do now, Mistress?"

"We have to change, put on our work suits and make ready to go out, Tord. Is the carriage ready? How many men will you take?"

Tord nodded. "Aye, the carriage will be ready, Mistress. We will have four riding and two on the carriage along with your driver."

Bursila put the key away and opened the door. Milsy entered, the others following.

"That should be enough, don't you think?"

"As you say, Mistress. Although, I must regret, I will not be one of your escort today."

"Oh?"

Tord gave Milsy an apologetic smile. "Though we all wear the colors of Blackstone, Mistress, in fact I am the only person of your escort who has actually given their oath to Lady Garia. Because that is so, Captain Merek has suggested that it might be well if I were present today when my liege lady returns to the palace, to give account of our activities here."

"Oh! Yes, of course. You have all been looking after us for so long that I sometimes forget how this all happened in the first place. Aye, you are right to stay."

"As you say. Do not concern yourself today, I have selected the most seasoned of your armsmen to accompany you to the coke works. These will all be guardsmen who are familiar with the city and the possible dangers to be found there."

"Thank you, Tord. Oh, and I have no idea how long things could take today. We could be there all day, which means that the men will be standing around for most of the time."

"We know it, Mistress. It is only what most would do were they on normal guard duty, after all."

"Aye, but there won't be the usual meal breaks or shift reliefs. I have no doubt a substantial lunch will be provided for all but the men should take drinks and snacks with them."

"As you wish, Mistress. I will ensure that extra supplies are placed in the carriage for all, against any eventuality."

"Good. And now, if you would excuse us..."

It was nearly a bell before Milsy and Bursila emerged, both wearing their leather work attire. Although Milsy had her usual utility belt with its many pouches, Bursila also carried a good-sized bag filled with the necessities required by any Palarandi woman. Tord saluted and they formed up to head through the corridors towards the palace stables. Once there they found a carriage waiting ready outside with four frayen in the harness. Another four stood ready for riders, their reins held by one of the stable staff.

Tord spoke to someone and there was a delay while supplies were fetched from the kitchens and stowed in the storage at the rear of the carriage. Milsy and Bursila had already climbed in and made themselves comfortable while they waited.

"My hands are cold. Bursila, do you know if the Wardrobe supplies gloves?"

"I do not, Mistress, but I cannot believe that the palace would not have such attire available for all to keep them warm over wintertime. Mayhap we should have enquired of Lady Dyenna when we visited her yesterday."

"You're right, of course. I must remember to do that when we get back."

Tord poked his head in the window. "Mistress, we are ready to leave."

"You know the way?"

"Aye, I have been given instructions. We will head for the Brikant road and then turn off for a new area where such developments are being built, I was told."

"As you say. We're ready, let's go."

The carriage jolted into motion and negotiated the narrow lane between the walls and the palace proper, until they came to the service gate. Turning out of this their driver headed through the streets towards the trade road west, a route which would eventually lead to Brikant, with a fork that went south to Moxgo. Their journey would not take them anywhere as far, but it was still a half-bell's ride through the busy city streets before the countryside began to open out around them.

Milsy frowned. "I thought the coke plant was inside the city! Where are we going?"

As if the driver had heard her grumbling, their carriage and escort immediately turned from the well-kept highway onto a dirt road that led south into an area of intense activity. On either side were fenced lots where piles of timber and stacks of bricks competed with mounds of mud for space. Some of these sites had the beginnings of rudimentary buildings already on them while others were part completed. In one or two places steam engines could be heard chuffing and puffing smoke into the autumn sky.

Their carriage rocked and slid along the lane, eventually slithering to an untidy halt. The driver climbed down to lean in at the window.

"Mistress, I dare not take the carriage any further, the mud is too thick and we'd never get it out again. By your leave, I would prefer to turn it round here and wait. You need not walk so far, if you look out of the other window you will see your destination."

As they were obviously not going to get any further by carriage, Milsy decided to climb out anyway. Barely twenty strides further along was the entrance to a larger lot which had brick constructions and some strange metal apparatus as well as the inevitable hut for the workers and a covered shelter in which Milsy could just glimpse frayen. The piles of bricks and timbers had been replaced with heaps of coal instead, while some of the space nearest the gate held other carriages, having presumably brought other interested people to view the inauguration.

"You're right. We can walk so far, I think. Bursila, we'll go along the verge, that will keep most of the mud off our boots."

They picked their way along the edge of the rutted lane and into the works compound, their escort manfully trying to keep up with them. Immediately, they were surrounded by ten or so of those already there.

"Mistress, welcome!" That was a guildsman wearing a Craftmaster's badge. "You are early, we are expecting some more visitors today before we may begin. Your pardon, I am Craftmaster Braydor, I will be your host today. If I may introduce these others -"

Braydor went around the small crowd naming them, but Milsy knew that she would find it difficult to remember them all at once.

"If I may ask, Mistress," Braydor continued, "you have come from the palace, have you any more information you may tell us? We have heard the most alarming rumors of the Prince's party, that we do not wish to believe."

Milsy sighed. "Aye, I have news, told to me but two bells ago by the King himself. I do not know much but I can tell you what I do know. It seems that the Prince's party crossed the Sirrel after breakfast yesterday and some two bells later, as they traveled the highway south, were attacked by a large group of armed men dressed in strange uniforms. His Majesty believes these to be of Yod. A full scale battle happened and many were killed, although we do not know who or how many. Some rumors say hundreds, though I think that is unlikely. The Prince's party was not so large. The Prince himself has survived and so has Lady Garia, um, the Guildmistress. Their party is expected to arrive at the palace sometime this afternoon and it is said that there are injured and prisoners with them."

There were dropped jaws and wide eyes among her listeners.

Braydor asked, "Prisoners, Mistress? Then... the Prince won the battle?"

Milsy nodded. "So it would seem, Craftmaster, but I do not know the numbers involved or what happened. I can also tell you that the battle was seen from the lookout at Dekarran castle and Lord Gilbanar sent a relief party to help, though it seems they arrived after the fighting had finished. It was Lord Gilbanar who sent the message to the palace."

Faces were white, now. Braydor muttered, "This is a bad business. I cannot see any alternative to war, if these men have come from Yod." He stared at Milsy properly. "Ah, I understand now. I wondered why your carriage was surrounded by guardsmen, you resemble the Guildmistress so closely that such precautions are necessary, I deem." A keen glance. "You are not, perhaps, related to the Guildmistress?"

Milsy smiled. "The resemblance is accidental, Craftmaster, but the King has sought to make use of that fact from time to time. Unfortunately, it does mean that I have to be escorted everywhere I go, even inside the palace, since those of Yod might attempt some mischief, thinking that I was the Guildmistress herself."

His eyebrows rose. "Inside the palace? These are dark days indeed if such precautions are deemed necessary. Tell me, what of your own abilities? Are they like those of the Guildmistress?"

"Regrettably not, Craftmaster. I have had to learn my trade the hard way, much as your own journeymen have, though Master Parrel has promoted me faster than you might consider prudent. I believe he thinks he has reason for it, though, it seems that my mind is more like that of a Questor, perhaps, than a normal guildsman - or woman."

She hesitated. "Although my oath is to Master Parrel, I would not consider myself a metalsmith the same way that you are, Craftmaster. My specialty is a new craft called electricity, which involves lots and lots of copper wire and a tame form of lightning. Because of what we do, it is natural that we take an interest in the activities of most other crafts, even those of other guilds."

Braydor nodded. "I have heard of your new craft, Mistress, from Master Parrel himself. If what I hear is true, it may cause significant changes in the way we manage our crafts - but you know that already, of course."

"Aye, and I am still astonished whenever I think of some of the implications of electricity. Craftmaster, expect your world to be very different in a few years time."

"Aye! The appearance of the Guildmistress has already guaranteed that! It is barely six months since we learned of paper and we already sell as much as we can make. We cannot understand how we have managed for so long without it! She has introduced so much to us and I imagine that your efforts will have similar results."

While they had been speaking two more carriages had appeared, their occupants getting out and picking their way along to the compound as Milsy and Bursila had done. She recognized the first figure, the others were strangers.

Braydor bowed. "Guildmaster Hurdin! Welcome to our site."

"Braydor. Glad to be here." He looked back at the lane. "We'll have to do something about that bog, we cannot leave it like that as winter approaches. Well. Who have we here?"

Braydor made the introductions again and Hurdin beamed at Milsy. "Pleased to see you here, my dear. I have no doubt you'll use your special point of view to find ways of improving what I see behind us, I remember what you did at the furnace site!"

Milsy blushed. "Thank you, Guildmaster."

The occupants of the second carriage joined them then and Hurdin did the introductions.

"This is Questor Vanganar, who is interested in different kinds of gases. I asked him to come because we might be able to use some of the gases produced today in the glass workshop. He is joined by Peklis, who is a chemist, so I believe." He gave a knowing smile to Milsy. "Master Peklis has some reservations about burning rocks, so I believe."

"If we may go inside," Braydor suggested. "It is too cold to stand around outside and in our hut we have a blackboard, a fireplace and, of course, pel for any who desire it."

Inside the hut it was warm and Milsy discovered that the heat was generated by a brick-built fireplace at one end which was of course burning coal. There was, after all, plenty of the stuff in piles outside. Several of those who had been waiting outside for their visitors converged on the source of heat, Peklis joining them. Milsy watched the proceedings with some amusement, similar occurrences having taken place in their laboratory.

Peklis bent down to examine the fire. "So, this is your burning rock, I believe? It certainly seems to throw out a lot of heat."

One of the men answered, "Aye, Master, so we have found. Like many on this development we originally fed our fire with wood scraps from the building of the sheds but coal is so much hotter than wood, though we did not believe it ourselves at first. Here, you should examine a piece of the raw ore."

He bent down and picked out a lump of coal from the rough wooden container at the side of the fireplace, handing it to Peklis.

The Questor turned the lump over. "Ugh! This stuff is filthy! Is this the way it originally came?"

"Aye, Master. I suppose that it is so crumbly it falls apart easily. No matter, we have found that all may be burned, even the dust."

"It is heavy," Peklis said, juggling the lump. "I wonder why it burns when no other rock does so."

"Master, we merely make use of the stuff, mayhap it would be yourself who could provide an answer to that question."

Meanwhile, Hurdin nudged Milsy with a hand and silently handed her a mug of pel, nodding towards the Questor.

"Doubtless the Guildmistress can answer his question," he muttered, "when she returns. Still, he may discover more than even the Guildmistress knows, for she told us that the burning of coal was almost a lost art on Earth, it being such a dirty fuel."

She nodded and took a sip. The liquid was hot, so she blew on the top before replying.

"Aye. It annoys me slightly that we have to use such stuff when we know that there is better to come."

"Well, to quote a saying of the Guildmistress, yes and no, my dear." Hurdin grinned at Milsy. "It is true that on Earth they have better means of heating and lighting themselves, but even there coal is still required to produce coke for steel-making, I deem. They used coal for two hundred years, I suspect we will have moved to other means well before then."

"As you say."

Peklis put the lump of coal back in the box and looked at his hands, barely resisting the automatic reflex to scrub them clean on his winter coat. One of the men handed him a damp cloth to wipe them and, when it had been returned, a mug of pel. Braydor cleared his throat for attention.

"Guildmaster, colleagues, friends, welcome to the new city coke works. This is just a prototype unit, as the blast furnaces were, for us to experiment and determine what might be required for a large-scale production works. That will allow us to discover the best method of operation. There will be plenty of room for a larger works at the rear of the site, at present that area has been left to grass to soak up some of the recent rain." He grinned. "I doubt not you have seen the state of the access road, we are trying to avoid that on site as much as possible."

He turned to gesture at the rear wall of the hut. Milsy saw that several plans had been nailed up there, each composed of a number of sheets of paper carefully glued together.

"What we have built is three identical structures," he explained. "The intent is to have one loading, one in operation and one being unloaded. Only time will tell if this will be an efficient way of operating the works or even if three are needed at all. As you can see, each oven, if I may use that term, consists of a firebox of brick with a chimney at the back to provide sufficient draft. On top is a tank made of iron sheets riveted together. Uh, I am told that in time we may weld such sheets but for now we must needs use rivets. The far end cap is fixed, the near end may be removed completely for loading and unloading."

Braydor turned back to his audience. "This works has two purposes, which are to provide coke and to produce and store the gas which results from the heating of the coal. The coke may be used for the blast furnaces or for any of the other factories or workshops being built on the rest of this development, should they need it. We expect the gas to be used by the factories or workshops for lighting, although I understand that Guildmaster Hurdin thinks there may be other uses for it. That is what we are here to find out.

"Storage of the gas has proved a problem. You are all welcome to see what we have done but if any of you have other suggestions, then please speak freely. This process is new to all of us and, though we have made what we think are the best decisions, there may be ideas and techniques we have overlooked."

Hurdin nodded approvingly. "Well said, Braydor. Tell us, what becomes of the gas?"

"Ah. Guildmaster, at present a pipe takes the gas from the back of the coke tank to a sort of cylindrical bellows which is situated behind each oven. The three bellows are connected by pipes but we can isolate each one as necessary. Should we fill all three bellows, then a safety valve, like those on the new steam engines, will vent the excess out to the open air."

"A sensible precaution, if I may say so. What state is the operation in at the moment?"

"Guildmaster, we have in fact already made one firing in each oven in order to test the seals on the doors and pipe joints." Braydor grimaced. "It has not been easy to find a way to seal something that gets so hot."

"As you say. The glass-makers may have some ideas, we should have a word later."

"As you wish, Guildmaster. As for this morning, we have been loading the middle oven in readiness for today's official inauguration. Once we have finished our pel we can go outside to watch the firebox being lit, then you can all inspect the site and discover what we have wrought." He shrugged. "It is a simple operation, really. When we first began this task it seemed very complex but in truth it is simpler than operating a bakery. Here, we must but load firebox and tank, then tend the fire, then unload both afterwards. To bake bread one must spend time kneading the dough and letting it rise, but we need do none of that here."

Peklis had questions. "Master Braydor, I do not understand why this is named the city coke works. We are in a field some distance beyond the city walls, does this mean the coke has to be transported back to the city by wagon? What of the gas? How shall the city benefit, so far away?"

Hurdin coughed then responded. "Master Peklis, there are two reasons. Firstly, the King expects the city to grow as the new inventions and developments become more popular. Thus, while we seem a distance from the city now, we may not be in a few years time. Placing such works as these and others out here allows us to avoid mingling workshops and residences such as we may find in the Old City, for example. Has any spoken to you of zoning, by chance?"

Peklis shook his head. "I do not know what zoning might be, Guildmaster. Aye, I have heard how the city is expected to grow, but you spoke of another reason."

"Indeed. While the coal and coke are known to be safe substances, we are told that the gas might become dangerous under certain circumstances. For that reason the works has been built on the west edge of the city, such that the prevailing winds would take any escaped gases away from buildings, people and animals.

"For the rest, most of the gas will probably be used, as Braydor mentioned, by other workshops on this development. The gas may be transported simply by means of pipes as fresh water is provided now, although the seals need to be better. I understand that a workshop is already being built here to make the pipes which will be needed to carry the gas to wherever it is required. The coke will probably also be used nearby, with any excess being taken to the blast furnaces. In time, it is likely that other works will be built to serve the city itself but not before we have assured ourselves of the precautions and methods to be used. Does that answer you?"

Peklis briefly bowed his head. "Aye, Guildmaster, it does. My apologies for asking too many questions."

"Master Peklis, you are one of the King's Questors! Your job is to ask questions. Ask what you will. If you see anything you think amiss, or do not understand, tell somebody and they will give you answer or explain why it is thus."

"As you desire, Guildmaster. One thing, I have not yet seen this coke everyone speaks of."

"That is easily remedied. Braydor?"

The Craftmaster went and fetched a sample from another box and presented it to Peklis. He turned it over, examining it closely before looking up.

"This is interesting," he remarked. "If I may keep this piece?"

"Of course, Master Peklis. I will prepare you a small bag of samples, with similar a bag of coal, for you to take away."

Hurdin said, "Then let us proceed outside and get the process started."

Outside the weather had brightened into a fine fall day. The chill breeze had died and it no longer felt so cold standing outside. It would have been even more pleasant if the adjoining plots had been quieter, but the workmen there were busy sawing planks and hammering nails.

Milsy looked more closely at the three ovens, each separated from the next by about five strides or so. Each was built of brick, with an arched opening in front at the bottom for the fire which would heat the coke tank. This was of black iron and completely embedded in the brickwork above the firebox in order to provide some insulation. Like the small tank back at the laboratory, the near end would be secured by pegs jammed into tabs which poked through the end cap. A ladder stood each side and workmen wrestled the cap up into place by brute force.

"That doesn't look a easy job to do," she muttered.

"Eh? Oh, aye," Hurdin responded. "I doubt not that in time they will have a crane as they do at the furnace site. When we are faced with something new it will always take time to discover the most sensible way to do tasks like that."

Braydor added, "Mistress, I have seen the little wagons on rails they are installing at the furnace site and we intend to have something similar here in future. That will help move the coal and coke to and from each oven."

"But they are always going to be up ladders, are they not? How do they get the coal up there?"

Braydor turned to Milsy. "It is a small problem, Mistress. Aye, we presently place a stepladder in front of the tank and carry buckets of coal up to it. We expect to carry the coke down in buckets when it is ready."

She grimaced. "Master, your men will spend all day carrying buckets up and down ladders. It seems to me," she said, gesticulating wildly as she struggled for the right words, "that you ought to have... another floor, perhaps, in the manner of an upstairs and downstairs. If you do that, then your men may walk along the upper floor and they will be able to tip the coke down a chute into the wagons." She thought briefly. "In fact, if you did that you could even put rails on the upper level."

Braydor stared at the three ovens. "Aye, I see what you mean, Mistress. I cannot think why we did not consider such an idea, save that it would require much more building."

A nearby craftsman stared at Braydor in horror. "Master, to construct an upper floor, as the Mistress describes, it must needs be of brick not wood, since wood could not bear the weight of the coal and might catch fire from the heat of the ovens. It would require extensive foundations and many, many thousands more bricks, I deem. And I am the one who would have to cut the bricks into the correct shapes for the arches!"

Milsy turned to the man, eyebrows raised. "Many thousands of bricks, Master?"

"Why, of course, Mistress! What you describe is essentially an arcade running in front of all the ovens. That would require... seven arches, say, and be wide enough for men to work comfortably underneath, to fire the ovens. To make all the arches will require thousands of bricks, many of them specially shaped to make each arch."

"But... you just said that you would have to cut all the bricks!"

"To create the arch shape, Mistress, aye, that is what we do. Bricks are, as you can see from the stocks in the nearby fields, supplied in a standard shape and size so we must needs cut them to the shapes desired."

Milsy turned to Hurdin with a calculating look, which the Guildmaster understood perfectly.

He responded, "For so many arches you should not need to spend your time cutting bricks, Master..?"

The man flushed. "Kalenar, Guildmaster. You are right, of course. I suppose I should have my journeymen cut them -"

Hurdin held up a hand. "That is not what I meant, Kalenar. These will doubtless not be the only arches that you or other brick-workers will be laying from now on, will it? It is time we asked the brick-makers to provide you with the shapes you require for your work."

"But!" Kalenar was confused. "I do not understand how this could possibly be done!"

Milsy said, "Master Kalenar, from what I understand, bricks are made from clay, is that not right? The shapes are then baked in an oven before delivery to wherever they are needed."

"Aye, Mistress."

"Well, it seems to me that the making of a brick is like the making of a cake, is it not? A cake will take the shape of the mold it is baked in, so why cannot the makers of bricks use differently shaped molds?"

Kalenar gaped at Milsy. "Why, Mistress..."

Hurdin grunted. "If I may explain, Mistress. Kalenar, you may know that the Guildmistress has brought us many new ideas and techniques since her arrival in Palarand. Many of our guilds have understood that this means change for our lands and we accept that it may mean that things will be done differently in the future." He gestured. "This coke works, and the many other workshops even now being built around us, are the first signal that such changes are coming. It seems to me that your portion of the Masons and the portion of the Potters Guild which makes your bricks have not realized the significance of what is to happen."

Kalenar gulped. "Aye, Guildmaster. I had not thought that it would affect my craft so, except to provide us with more work."

Hurdin smiled. "Indeed it will! But it seems to me that your craft, and that of the potters, will require more flexibility in their ideas, would you not agree? Now, Guildswoman Milsy here is but the first to follow the Guildmistress, and she can sometimes see what those who have spent their lives with their noses in their crafts sometimes cannot." The smile changed to a rueful grin. "She did it to me! She made a tour of my glass works and pointed out several places where our methods could be improved. Do not dismiss her suggestions lightly, guildsman."

Kalenar bowed. "As you command, Guildmaster. But, I must explain, such a new structure will take many months to erect, even if we may persuade the Potters to make differently shaped bricks for it."

Hurdin nodded. "It will soon be winter, and foundations will be required, concrete made and so on. Until then we will just have to bear with the present methods."

Milsy suddenly had a memory of being on her hands and knees, pushing a box of vegetables between the legs under a kitchen table because the aisles were blocked either side. She said slowly, "Guildmaster, there might be another way. A different way."

"Ah?" Hurdin turned his full attention to Milsy.

"Aye, Guildmaster. Master Braydor tells us that he expects to lay rails in front of the ovens to transport materials around. I understand that should not take long nor disrupt the working of the ovens too long while it is done. Suppose that... four rails were laid, not two."

"Four rails? To have two sets of wagons, you mean? To allow them to pass, perhaps?"

Milsy shook her head. "No... the wagons would run on the middle pair of rails, the outer pair would have a structure on it... If I may think. Somebody mentioned cranes and I thought of the three cranes originally used at the furnace site."

Hurdin beamed. "Ah! A brilliant idea, Mistress! You think to mount a crane on wheels, so that one may serve all ovens. The whole structure would be raised, so that the wagons for the fireboxes could run beneath."

"As you say, Guildmaster. But my thought was, you might not even need a crane, just a platform with some kind of hopper on it and maybe a simple hoist. The platform would be at the higher level to permit the workmen to attend the coke tanks and the hopper would be used to load and unload the tanks."

"But you'd still need a crane to raise the coal to the hopper."

The two were now effectively holding a design discussion while the others looked on, most fascinated, some amazed.

"Not necessarily, Guildmaster. I propose something like what was done at the furnace site, a ladder pump to lift materials up to the level of the platform. That means that all the coal could be put in a single pile at one end of the row of ovens, with the coke being heaped at the other."

"A ladder pump? Oh, I understand, aye. And this platform, it would be too heavy for men to move, even on metal rails, so I suppose you would have a steam engine to move it?"

"I had not thought so far, Guildmaster, but probably, aye."

The two men who had been fitting the cap on the coke tank came and saluted Braydor. "Master, we are ready."

"As you say. Then you may light the fire."

Everyone turned to watch the proceedings. The men used flint and tinder to provide a flame and then used soaked rags to light the kindling which was beneath the coal in the firebox. After a short while black smoke began rising from the chimney into the still air.

Braydor suggested, "Guildmaster, while the men build up the fire, if we might walk around the back to inspect the gas collectors."

Hurdin nodded. "Aye, of course. Now that the fire is started, not much of consequence should happen for a while."

"As you say, Guildmaster. If you would follow me."

Three strides behind each oven was a curious construction which Milsy couldn't understand at first. There was a wooden disk, about five strides across, made from planks, and this apparently held down a pile of leather disks each slightly larger than the wooden one. Surrounding the assembly were six vertical poles about three strides high, with ropes cross-bracing each pole to the next.

"This is our gas collection bellows," Braydor explained. "We expect it to rise as the gas is given off. We have no idea how much gas the process is supposed to generate... Mistress, have you any idea? We have heard that you have done some experiments with one of the test chambers that were made."

Milsy shook her head. "I can't tell you, Master Braydor. We just put some coal in and cooked it, we didn't measure what we put in or how much gas came out."

Braydor's face fell. "That means that we don't know if our bellows will be sufficient to hold all the gas produced. If necessary, we can connect the bellows together, but I believe it would be sensible to find out how much we may produce from each charge of coal."

There was a creak, and the wooden disk shuddered, one side of it lifting. Milsy could now see that the leather underneath consisted of part segments, each sewn to the next at either the inside edge or the outer, so that the whole thing could expand as required. She suddenly realized what the poles were for, to guide the bellows as it filled.

"We are not convinced that the leather, nor the sewn seams, is sufficient to hold the gas," Braydor explained. "We have used grease as a seal but we know that will dry out in time. Alternative suggestions would be welcome." He suddenly grinned. "Especially in view of the howls of anguish when we bought most of the capital's supply of leather! If a small bellows like this takes so much, how much will a larger one require?"

Milsy frowned. A large volume of gas was going to be awkward to store, however one did it. Any enclosure would be massive, were it to be made of leather, wood or metal - and it would have to be somehow sealed tight.

"We have tanks of iron plate," Hurdin muttered. "They are used for compressed air which we use for making bottles. Would something similar be of use?"

"As you say, Guildmaster, but they would needs be extremely large, I deem, when considering how much gas we may make for the workshops and dwellings nearby. Can the Metalsmiths make so large a holder for our needs?"

Hurdin turned to Milsy. She replied, "Probably, Master Braydor, but it will not be possible this year. I believe that Guildmaster Parrel has plans to roll very large, thin sheets of steel, which may serve your purpose, but the workshop... the factory to make such sheets will not be ready before next summer."

"Oh. Well, that will give us time to prove our methods and processes, I deem, before we design a larger set of ovens at the rear."

"As you say." Hurdin looked around. "This process is as simple as you say, is it not? Let us return to the hut where we can speak some more about the ideas we have spoken of out here." He smiled. "And then, I deem, it will be lunchtime."

* * *

It was dark by the time Milsy and Bursila arrived at the palace that evening. The day had been long, tiring and intensely stimulating. Now all they wanted to do was to strip off their leather work suits and submerge themselves in a long, hot bath.

"Do you think the palace is safe enough?" Milsy asked. "Surely there is no problem now that the Prince and Lady Garia have returned. I'm wondering if we still need all these good men about us."

"I could not say, Mistress," Bursila replied as they walked through the dimly-lit corridors. "However, I doubt that Captain Merek's instructions may be changed today. Tomorrow will be soon enough for orders to be given."

"As you say. Everything is going to change, isn't it? I mean, now that the Prince and Lady Garia have returned. There's all those extra men, and Lady Merizel too, oh, and Jenet of course. Are you looking forward to seeing Lady Merizel again, Bursila? Do you think you'll be assigned to her again?"

They turned a corner and there was Garia, along with Jenet and two armsmen.

"Milsy!"

Milsy remembered her manners. "My Lady."

She made an elaborate curtsey and the two girls examined each other. Garia wasn't wearing traveling clothes, so had obviously arrived earlier, bathed and changed into formal evening wear. Her face looked more seasoned, more careworn, more... mature. Her expression lit up, though, on seeing how Milsy was dressed.

"I want an outfit like that!"

Milsy grinned. "Rosilda owes me two soos," she said. "I bet her you would say that when you saw me wearing it. Don't worry!" She waved a hand. "The patterns are ready, Rosilda didn't want to make the garments up until you returned, in case any of your measurements had changed since you left the palace."

Garia nodded appreciatively. "I do like that. I don't know why I didn't think of something similar."

"Probably because you were too busy inventing saddles, riding frayen or learning to fight with swords, Milady," Milsy suggested.

"You don't have to Milady me, I told you that before."

"As you wish... Garia, although our circumstances are now somewhat different than before. But I hope we may still call each other friend."

"Why don't you walk with us," Garia suggested. "We're off to our chambers, yours can't be far away. We can catch up as we go."

Milsy shook her head. "Not so... Garia. I'm heading for the Royal Questor's rooms, where I currently reside. The Queen felt it best to move me out of your suite after a while, she said too many people were disturbing the royal corridor and my experiments were making holes in the carpets."

"Oh!" Garia giggled and Milsy joined in. "I hadn't noticed, honestly! Oh, I'll see you at breakfast, then?"

"Surely, Garia."

"Ah! Before you go, are you going to be busy tomorrow morning? We're debriefing the men after yesterday's battle and there's a new toy you might be interested in."

Milsy's interest was immediately roused. A tale of battle and some new device! She nodded. "I'll make sure to be there, then!"

Jenet, who had kept quiet until then, asked, "Bursila?"

Bursila, who had been out of the immediate light, stepped forward and curtseyed.

"My Lady. I am pleased to see you have returned to us, and without injury. The tales of battle which have circulated the servant's quarters have been so bad I feared for you all. And... Lady Merizel?"

"She is whole and well," Garia replied, "and very much looking forward to meeting you again. I see you have found a new career helping Milsy."

"I have learned more about steam engines and the making of coke than I ever wished to know, Milady," Bursila said. "But I must say that it has all been very interesting." She frowned. "Is it your intention to take me back into your service, Milady, or that of Lady Merizel?"

Garia looked at Milsy, who gave a slight shrug. "Let's leave that one for now, shall we? You're obviously a successful team and I'd hate to split that up. There's all these armsmen to figure out, as well." She waved a hand at the eight men who surrounded them. "Let's get a good night's sleep and we can grab a moment or two to talk tomorrow, perhaps. There is much to be done, and little time to do most of it in. After all, since yesterday we have been at war with Yod."

"Agreed," Milsy said. "Until breakfast, then."