Last to Rise(77)

As motivational speeches went I could have done better, but I had their attention. So for once in my life I was honest, searingly truthful about just how screwed we were, and why; told them that all that shit about the Storad not bothering Under was a load of old bollocks and how I knew that; and just why they couldn’t escape through the Mishan gate. When their faces had begun to look like a bunch of slapped arses, I told them I was fairly sure that the Storad didn’t eat babies, and what we were going to do about it anyway.



“The cardinals would have a collective shit-fit at the thought of anyone from Under having a gun, so they’re having to rely on Specials and guards, whatever weak-chinned wonders they can dredge up from Over and anyone from Under who’s volunteered to be part of a meat shield without weapons. It’s not enough – it’s not going to be anywhere near enough. The Archdeacon can’t get around the cardinals. Not officially. But we can. Because I just happen to know where the last lot of guns are. I suspect one or two of you know as well. Factory Three.”



A few eyes lit up at that, and I made a mental note to keep an eye on those particular men, but most of them looked thoughtful. One of the bigger guys – belatedly I realised it was Cabe’s father, Quillan – said, “And when we have guns, what are we going to do with them?”



“Shoot a few cardinals and priests,” someone muttered, adding hurriedly when Guinto looked like he was about to faint, “Present company excepted, of course.”



It was hard to disagree with him, mainly because I felt much the same.



“Maybe later,” I said, to Guinto’s gasping shock. “After we’ve survived this, if we survive, then things are going to be different I think. They sure as shit will be if I have anything to do with it. But first – you’ve all got family down here, right? Where will they go when the Storad come? How will they hide? They can’t. The Storad will make for Top of the World if they’re sensible.” I neglected to mention Allit’s magic, because that would be a stupid move on my part. It was bad enough Quillan knew what I was, and I could only hope he kept that quiet. “But they won’t stay there. Once they’re done with the Ministry, where do you think they’ll go next? Maybe they won’t wait for that, maybe they’ll be down here at the same time they aim for up there. One thing’s for certain: they want rid of Mahala, in her entirety. They want us gone, so they don’t have to depend on us for trade, so they can start selling their own machines, so we won’t have a stranglehold on them any more. They’ll either come down here and scour us out, or just wait till we starve to death. So, if I give you a gun, what are you going to do with it?”



The guy who’d said shoot cardinals piped up. “Shoot some Storad. We can screw with the Ministry later. All right. But Factory Three – that’s sewn up tighter than a gnat’s arse. None of us managed to get a working gig there; it’s all Ministry. How do we get the guns?”



I grinned at him, and pulled out the chit that Perak had given me. I authorise the bearer to requisition any equipment that he sees fit, followed by Perak’s signature and the official archdeacon’s seal.



Quillan laughed, and all of a sudden I had my own little army. Better than any Specials or guards, because these were men from Under, used to fighting their way through all the shit life down here had to offer.





Chapter Twenty-two





Getting the guns and bullets, given Perak’s back-handed assistance, didn’t prove to be too much of a problem. Controlling my army did. It was like trying to herd cats.



The factory workers weren’t too bad – they were mostly honest, mostly not too bloodthirsty and mostly sane. Quillan seemed to be their natural leader, so I let him. The rest – well, let’s just say I kept my back to a wall as much as I could. But if they were scaring me, I was hoping they’d scare the Storad too.



All in all, we were about thirty men, two guns apiece, which would make it easier because reloading was a pain. I didn’t want anyone to pay too much attention to us, not until we were ready, so I had them all drift up towards the Buzz in ones and twos.



“What’s the plan?” Quillan had asked. He hadn’t said anything about me being a mage, I noted.



“Pretty simple really.” Mainly because I was making it up as I went along, but no point mentioning that. “We stick to where we know, what we know. Round the Buzz. If – no, when – the Storad make it past the men holding what’s left of the gates, we hold them off from Under. Make it not worth their while. Send them up.”