Chapter 11
Days passed. Plans were made. Supplies were stockpiled. Combatants were gathered. Pardons were issued.
“I can’t believe I’m flaunting the Law like this in public,” Gutch muttered as he inspected his wagon full of guns, in a busy district, surrounded by thousands of witnesses. “I feel like surely this is a test for shameless criminality, which I have undoubtedly failed, and any moment now the Inquisitors are going to swoop down upon me in the form of glowing black buzzards to pluck out my eyes and carry me back screaming to be roasted to death upon their terrible dome.”
“Calm yourself, Gutch,” Jagdish assured him. “You said so many things there that’re wrong I hardly know where to begin correcting you. The Inquisitors answer only to Devedas now, and he’s declared if the weapons are intended to be used against the demons, we can make whatever Fortress alchemy we feel like. And apparently it’s not called the Inquisitors’ Dome anymore, it’s called the Tower of Silence, I suppose ’cause that sounds scarier. Only the Capitol lies mostly abandoned anyway except for the small contingent of firsters there led by his lovely wife.”
Ashok stood next to Jagdish and Gutch. “I have met this Maharani. She seems rather capable.”
“Indeed. Rada’s sweet too. My daughter adores her. She’s also the main reason Vadal still has casteless. And, Gutch, let’s be reasonable. The Inquisitors could hardly be expected to transform into birds and carry a man of your considerable density all the way back to the Capitol. Can you imagine the expenditure in magic it would take to move such a great weight such a long distance that way?”
“Hey, now!”
“This is likely true,” Ashok agreed. “The wizards who carried me to find Jagdish asked that I leave my armor behind due to the weight.”
“Alright, alright. Enough already. You don’t need to pile it on.”
“That’s surely what the poor Inquisitor who was expected to fly Gutch all the way to the desert would cry!” Jagdish quipped.
“Such disrespect as I am brutalized at the hands of my alleged friends.” Gutch sighed and pulled the cover back over the back of the wagon. Legal or not, it was reflex for a smuggler to hide his cargo. “Alright, boys, they’re all yours. Don’t have too much fun all at once,” he told Jagdish’s men, who were there to take delivery of the temporarily not-illegal weapons. Those poor warriors still seemed nervous to be around such dishonorable things, but they would do as they were told, and the guns would be issued to the city’s sepoys—worker caste obligated to serve as a city militia.
“Alright, Jagdish, that’s twenty more Gutch-quality rods delivered to aid your defense, and more should be arriving by the day.”
Jagdish had told Ashok that though the warriors hated such untraditional weapons, his Thakoor was not so bound by tradition, and had directed Jagdish to collect as many Fortress rods as possible while he could. If the demons were defeated, Ashok suspected there would be a rebalancing of power in Lok…but that was not Ashok’s concern.
“Well done, Gutch,” Jagdish said. “With the aid of the Sons’ gunners and foreigners it shouldn’t take too many days to teach the conscripts how to stand on a wall and make noise and smoke in the demons’ general direction.”
Gutch watched the wagon roll around the corner out of sight, before gesturing for Ashok and Jagdish to walk with him. “Those rods of my usual excellent quality at a heavily discounted price I reserve only for friends and family, but this humble delivery isn’t what I asked you fellows here for today. Come on.”
They followed Gutch as he led them deeper into the workers’ district. The big man moved with surprising speed for his size and had a spring to his step.
“You walk with purpose, Gutch,” Ashok said.
“Us workers would call it hustle, General Ashok. That’s what my caste does when we see a golden opportunity before us. I merely require your support to make this dream come true.”
Many of the people here recognized Gutch and seemed happy to see him. The rest of the workers knew who Ashok and Jagdish were. They loved Jagdish. They feared Ashok.
“This was one of the districts where I worked before my unfortunate brush with the Law that sent me to Cold Stream. As a Forge Master Smith I had to become very familiar with the city’s many industries and how they work together. With your permission, illustrious Phontho Jagdish, whose turban is now heavily burdened with stars, I would like to take over some of these facilities in order to commission a great work which has the potential to make even the armies of hell tremble.”
“This ought to be good,” Jagdish said.
“Of course, I will require a few things from both of you, but as you know, honest Gutch always provides a good return on your investment.”
This district was a loud, busy place. Throngs of workers rushed about, attending to their odd affairs. There were sparks and smoke, and draft animals bellowing over the endless banging of hammers.
“What do you need from us, Gutch?”
“I have already borrowed from Ashok his Fortress envoy so I could pick her brain. She knows a surprising amount about mechanics and physics for a female. Her tales are fascinating. Did you know the islanders have used their rods against demons before? Though deadly against humans, they’re lacking in power against demons. Lead balls don’t work much better than us beating them with clubs, only they can do it from farther away. Most of the projectiles flatten and bounce off their iron-tough hide uselessly. Their gunners have to hit a demon hundreds of times in the off chance of inflicting a deadly wound upon one, so their success against the beasts isn’t much better than our warriors’.”
It appeared Gutch was taking them toward a gigantic foundry facility. In Vadal, even the workers’ holdings were artistically decorated from top to bottom, and this one was no different. The carvings of trees, animals, and peaceful nature scenes seemed out of place on a structure devoted to noisy industry. The three steaming towers of this place were capped in bronze, and a massive bell hung over the entrance.
“The Fortress folk make special rods to be used against demons which fire pointed, hardened steel bullets, loaded from the rear of the barrel rather than the front, and they do slightly better at penetrating hide than their regular designs, which aren’t so different than the ones shown to me by Mother Dawn, which I’ve been producing. Sadly, there’s no way I could switch over production to such a wild and untested new design in all my many facilities across Lok fast enough. By the time we got the problems worked out, we’d surely be up to our necks in sea demons. So, I got to thinking to myself, and said, ‘Master Gutch, applying your great knowledge of manufacturing and demon anatomy to this problem, working only with what resources we have available here in Vadal today, what is the solution?’”
“So you’ve appointed yourself an expert demon surgeon now too?” Jagdish asked.
“Well, we butchered several of them in the swamp. I wouldn’t say ‘surgeon,’ as I don’t need to know how to put them back together, just take them apart. Nonetheless, stymied in my quest, I proposed this same question to Envoy Praseeda, as her Weapons Guild has asked themselves this same thing many times. The answer they came up with was something called cannonry, which was rather innovative, based on old drawings from their so-called workshop, and they forged some prototypes to test the concept, but unfortunately for Fortress their poor little island lacked the materials to build very many of the things. And then where would they put them? They are very heavy. With so much coastline they have no idea where the demons would strike, and they were too big to be very mobile, so the idea was abandoned. However, Vadal does not lack for resources, and in this case, we know where the demons are going to be because they have to come to us. I can simply put them on wheels.”
“You’ve lost me, Gutch,” Jagdish said.
“Ah, Jagdish, being lost is the story of your life. You have often gotten lost when you’ve not had your humble servant Gutch there to lend you his wisdom…Look up.”
They had stopped under the shadow of the giant bell. To Ashok it appeared to be made from the same bronze that decorated Vadal’s armor.
“Alright…and?”
“The Thakoor said you could obligate whatever you needed to save his city, Jagdish. Turn this bell metal foundry over to my control, as well as anything else I deem essential, and all the notes necessary to pay the best craftsmen, along with some of Ashok’s knowledgeable Fortress folk, and I will provide you with guns so powerful that even if they don’t pierce demon hide they’ll still hit those salty bastards hard enough it should break their bones and pulverize their flesh into a demonic slurry.”
“So, your great idea is go bigger?”
“Bigger is always better, my friend. If you warriors have been told otherwise it’s because the ladies were trying not to hurt your feelings. I’m talking about Fortress rods that will launch metal balls big around as your noggin, faster than the eye can see. The Weapons Guild of Fortress has the knowledge of projectiles, powders, and pressure. Vadal has the tools and materials. Give me the keys to this district and time to work and I’ll give you splattered demons in return.”
This was not Ashok’s decision to make, so he looked to Jagdish, who appeared to be mulling the offer over.
“Time I can’t promise, Gutch. When they’ll attack, your guess is as good as mine. Bank notes? Devedas has pledged the support of his banks, so money isn’t an issue for now. But taking over the city’s industries and interrupting our trade—which has already been stalled for so long—will anger all the high-status men who’ve already got doubts the demons are coming at all. I know those snoots are whispering in my Thakoor’s ear that I’m delusional for listening to him.” He nodded toward Ashok. “You’ve seen these Fortress things used far more than I have, Ashok. Your opinion?”
When he had met Gutch, Ashok had thought of him as nothing more than a selfish criminal, motived only by the basest greed, but Gutch had since proven Ashok wrong a great many times. In his own peculiar worker way, Gutch was a visionary man, as stalwart as any of the Sons. If he said it could be done, then it could be done.
“Give this man his factories.”