Daughter of Independence

by Simon Brown

  ‘How appropriate,’ Chierma said, and lit the kindling at the base of the bonfire.

  23

  For the first time since becoming prefect Poloma had no one at home to return to after finishing in the Assembly. There were servants, for sure, most of whom he had known all his life and was very fond of, but there was no mother any more, no Hattie, no children. And no Heriot. Most of all, he realised, there was no Heriot.

  Poloma sat in the living room, hardly tasting the dinner his servants placed before him, trying to understand at what point he had actually realised he loved Heriot. It had not hit him like a blow, had not unfolded in some measurable way. It had just happened, evolved, grown up, and suddenly was there, filling him up.

  He tapped his knife against the plate. The sound clinked in the empty dining room. No children were crying, laughing, making sounds children made. No Hattie pottering around the house. No Heriot doing Heriot things.

  His loneliness extended out in waves. Not only was there no family in Kydan, there were no real friends either. Galys was away. So was Kadburn. He did not want to think about the possibility that neither would come back. He had never really been close to Gos Linsedd. Kysor Nevri had earned his respect, but neither considered the other a friend and probably never would. The members of his faction in the council were political associates.

  Poloma put down the knife, pushed the plate away.

  There was a knock on the door. A servant answered it. Voices, and then, standing in the entrance hall, looking rather abashed, was Gos. Poloma stood up and called him in.

  ‘I’ve interrupted your dinner,’ Gos said apologetically, seeing the plate of food on the table.

  ‘It’s fine, Commander. How can I help you? Have you eaten?’

  Gos looked as if he was about to say he had, but his hesitation convinced Poloma he had not.

  ‘A place for our guest,’ Poloma told the servant, and he motioned for Gos to sit down while the servant ran off to prepare an extra meal.

  ‘I don’t want to inconvenience anyone,’ Gos said. ‘It’s just . . .’ He stopped, as if whatever it was he was going to say had fled right out of his mind.

  Poloma felt a connection then, and understood why Gos had come. ‘It must be hard being the only senior officer left now that Galys and Kadburn have gone,’ he said.

  Gos nodded. ‘And the same for you, no doubt. Doubly so, with Heriot Fleetwood away.’

  ‘And the children,’ Poloma added.

  A second plate of food arrived, and Poloma found he could eat his own dinner now that he had company.

  *

  When the children were down for the night, Arden took Heriot on a tour of the town, but they walked slowly, heads down in conversation, and Heriot did not see much at all of Sayenna. By the time they returned to the keep it was past dark and half the sky was covered by invisible cloud that made the moonlight yellow. They stopped in the courtyard, in no hurry to go back in.

  Heriot looked up at the top of the keep. ‘You have no flag.’

  ‘Hadn’t really given it thought until now. I like the jack the ships are flying, though. Is that official now for Kydan?’

  Heriot nodded. ‘Gold for the sun on the Frey, and three stripes for the three islands. Some argued they should be green, but green and gold were Maddyn’s household colours, and Poloma thought it best to have some red, which is one of the colours Kydan has always used.’

  ‘It’s effective. We should do something different, but along the same line. Maybe gold with three stripes as well, but our stripes can be blue for the sea, white for the foreshore and red for the land. Well, something like that.’

  ‘I like that,’ Heriot said, but a little absently. She held a wrap around her shoulders. ‘It’s cooler here at night than in Kydan.’

  ‘You’re further south. I’m used to it already. Seems perfectly reasonable to me. And I haven’t forgotten what Omeralt was like.’

  ‘Winter there was cold and hard.’

  ‘I recall cold and sharp. Wind like knives. Compared to that, Sayenna’s balmy, and Kydan’s hot and humid.’

  ‘I was looking forward to the monsoon. I liked the way you could see the clouds and rain rushing in across the bay. It was like someone in the sky was drawing the hem of a grey dress across the water, and then it would hit and the water came down so heavy you’d think you were going to drown, or be washed away.’

  Arden nodded, remembering. Then he said, ‘What decided Poloma to let you go?’

  ‘Because he knows I’ll come back.’

  Arden grunted. ‘Then maybe I shouldn’t let you go.’

  ‘You let me go when you left Kydan. Besides, you know I’ll come back here too.’

  ‘I like the children,’ Arden said, sounding surprised by the revelation. ‘I wasn’t sure I would, you know. Never had much to do with children.’

  ‘Soon enough, you’ll have another to get used to,’ Heriot said.

  ‘Really? How many do you want?’

  Heriot shrugged. ‘It’s not the number.’

  ‘What are you going to call this one?’

  Heriot grinned. ‘You fishing, Arden? You want a baby named after you?’

  He half smiled. ‘Not if it’s a girl. That wouldn’t be fair on it.’

  ‘Her, not it. What about Ardenia?’

  ‘Do that and I’ll never speak to you again. So is that why Poloma sent you to Sayenna? To protect the children?’

  ‘Mainly because he knew I wanted to come, and he was smart enough to make it his idea. I don’t think any of us can count on Sayenna being any safer than Kydan, at least not forever. Once the empire decides to come to the New Land, Sayenna will be a target in its turn.’

  Arden nodded. ‘Harder to defend than Kydan, too. As far as an invader is concerned there are no islands and swamps to worry about. Straight off the beach and there you are.’

  ‘What will you do when they come?’

  ‘I’ll figure something out, but in the end, one way or the other, I’ll knock them back into the ocean.’

  *

  Galys had not slept well for most of the voyage across the Deepening Sea. Memories of her first crossing, often in the arms of Kitayra Albyn, kept her tossing and turning and waking in a cold sweat, wondering what in the Sefid’s name she thought she was doing going back to the old world again. Then, awake, she would remember why, and wish she was there already so everything could be resolved, one way or the other, and she was either dead or on her way home again.

  They had been at sea for their third tenday when a cabin boy told her Kadburn wanted to see her above. She found him standing on the quarterdeck with the captain, a man called Squeaving who barked out orders and had side whiskers and a nose that was always blocked, but kept a good table for his guests.

  A low white mist lay across the water, the ship’s masts making curlicues through it like a knife through milk. The sea itself seemed flat and tired.

  Before she could ask why he wanted to see her, Kadburn put a finger to his lips then pointed straight out to starboard. She joined the two men and stared out into the mist. For a long while she saw not a thing, and then a glimpse of a ship, or at least a high wooden hull, gliding in company to their own. It was closed over by mist before appearing again, further away but long enough for Galys to confirm what she had seen the first time. Longgon ports.

  After a while Squeaving let out a long breath and said, relatively softly for him, ‘Should be all right now, I think we’ve left her behind. A good idea, though, to keep things on the quiet side for a big longer.’

  ‘How can you be sure we’ve left her behind?’ Galys asked.

  ‘First time we saw her through the mist was just two of her masts, and one of those was snapped.’

  ‘She’s been in battle?’

  Squeaving shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. First, her freeboard was too high for a proper warship; she was a transport more like. And I’m thinking the damage looked as if it was due to storm rather than s
hot.’

  ‘What storm?’ Kadburn asked reasonably. ‘We’ve encountered no serious weather.’

  Squeaving grimaced. ‘Aye. But I’d be surprised if that vessel was travelling in the same direction as us when it hit the storm. Now that its masts are damaged, it’s come south to catch the right winds for going back to its home port.’

  ‘When you say the other direction,’ Galys said, ‘you mean east across the Deepening Sea, don’t you? It’s an armed transport, and that means an invasion fleet is already on its way.’

  Kadburn turned as white as the mist. ‘We weren’t expecting anything until after summer at the earliest.’ He held Squeaving by the shoulders. ‘Captain, we have to go back, we have to warn Kydan!’

  Squeaving shook his head. ‘I wish we could, Warden, but think. We have no way of knowing how long the transport’s been at sea; the invasion fleet might already be there. At the least, it’s already past us or we would not have seen this transport. And to warn Kydan we ourselves would have to sail well north to catch the prevailing winds east, and even then we’d be lucky to hit the New Land before the monsoons, and even if we managed that there’s an even better chance we’d run into the invasion fleet’s escort and be sunk.’

  ‘The captain is right,’ Galys said. ‘Indeed, if the invasion fleet is on its way, our own mission is twice as urgent.’

  *

  Poloma woke to rain battering his window. He looked at it running down the glass for a long while, not really wanting to go out in that to get to the Assembly. Not quite heavy enough yet to be monsoon, but the last warning. In a way it was a relief. The great wet, when it came, signalled an end to the increasing tension everyone felt as the heat and humidity gradually rose at the end of spring, making life uneasier than it had to be. Combined with the melt now flowing down the Frey River, the three islands of Kydan would shrink as the waters rose. The increased tidal race, the risk of flooding, the seemingly endless rain, would make it virtually impossible for an invader to purchase a secure foothold. So at least, for a while, they were safe from that.

  He could delay no longer. He got up and dressed and without eating breakfast made his way to the Assembly, getting absolutely saturated on the way. He went to his office, stripped off his outer clothing and sneezed for several minutes while he dressed in a dry set of outer clothing he had carried with him in an oilskin pouch. Then, as he made his way to the council room, he nodded and sneezed at his colleagues, who nodded and sneezed back at him.

  There was no formal council meeting today, just reports from the city’s various sections, especially the military. He pushed Avier and Kysor Nevri to finish Kitayra Albyn. He wanted all three of the new warships, a type which had so recently proved itself in action against Hamilayan vessels, ready for the expected invasion after summer. He read with interest a message from Lannel Thorey, now based at Orin of the Two Rivers, that the river people were keen to join militia groups now that Kydan and Sayenna had settled their differences. He had made two experienced warriors, Velopay and Adulla, his deputies, and had formed three companies of infantry. They were practising with firegons, plenty left from the various attempts of Rivald to stir up trouble among the river villages against Kydan, although shot and gonblack were hard to come by and a supply of both would be gratefully received. Poloma immediately issued an order for both to be sent as soon as possible, although the production of gonblack was still an acute problem for the city and its defenders; as a rule, the prefect gave priority to the fleet, then the regular army units, then the Citadel’s longgons, and lastly the militia. He wondered if it was possible to set up a new factory closer to Orin, perhaps drawing supplies upriver from the Walking Mountains.

  There were agricultural reports, all encouraging, foundry reports, also encouraging, although without gonblack the new screw-barrelled longgons would be nothing more than expensive lumps of metal. He took Gos Linsedd’s advice and gave orders for longgon revetments to be constructed along the stable foreshores of the three islands that faced the bay, and for them to be made to look like simple embankments to fool any enemy into thinking they were undefended.

  Just after noon he got to the end of his pile of paperwork, and there at the bottom was a note in his own handwriting but in the words of Heriot. It was about the need for schools. The argument was convincing. And he missed her more than he wanted to admit. So he wrote at the bottom a line to remind himself to submit the proposal to council with his support. And then, as an afterthought, added that the first schools could be funded with loot taken from any defeated enemy invasion.

  Now that was a hopeful note, he told himself, and listened with something like relief at the sound of the rain on the Assembly roof as it quickened and hardened. Soon, it was too loud to think.

  The monsoons had finally arrived.

  *

  It was not long after sunrise that the schooner slipped into Somah’s harbour, gliding like a ghost over shimmering yellow waters. The harbour was emptier than Galys remembered it from the last time she had seen it, but since then at least two fleets had sailed from here, so she should not be surprised. What did surprise her was the lack of activity. It was still busy, even at this hour, but it was not the frenetic pace that had once characterised the empire’s greatest port.

  Squeaving let down the light stern anchor and put a longboat into the water as soon as the sails were reefed.

  ‘I don’t want to dawdle here, Strategos,’ he explained. ‘We’ve got a start on that transport we passed, but not as much as a day if they managed to jury-rig the broken mast. So if you could get going I’d appreciate it, and I’ll catch the next tide.’

  ‘It is probably best if you go back to Kydan,’ Galys said, and Kadburn nodded.

  Squeaving shook his head. ‘The council gave me the job of getting you here and back again. I’ll not skedaddle far. There’s plenty of anchorages north and south of Somah, and if we have to we can go all the way to Bowtell or Koegrah. Even Beferen if I need to. When do you want us back?’

  ‘Come back in a month’s time. One way or another, our mission will have been decided by then. If we’re here we’ll stay at one of the harbour inns. You’ll find us easily enough.’

  ‘Right.’ He nodded to Kadburn’s dagger. ‘You had better hide that scramasax, Warden. It’s always been a Beloved’s weapon, and there ain’t no more Beloveds in the old world.’

  Kadburn grunted. ‘Nor in the New Land, Captain. They’re a dead breed.’ He undid his belt, took off the scramasax in its sheath and hid it inside his shirt. ‘But I’ll hang on to it, even if it must be hidden. It’s a good blade, and I’ve not been without it since the age of seven.’

  Squeaving took off his own dagger and handed it to Kadburn. ‘Hang that from your belt, then. You should have something close to hand.’

  Kadburn thanked the captain and he and Galys went down to the boat. A short while later they were standing on the eastern-most dock, the longboat was pulling away back to its schooner, and they were alone in the land of the enemy.

  24

  Lerena had been growing in anger over several days. For those who had contact with her, however irregular, it was like watching a great winter storm build up over the Vardar Mountains. She talked to all with a controlled, sweet trill that fooled no one, and not even Chancellor Malus Mycom could bear being near her for more than a short while. It was worse for the guards on duty at the entrance to the aviary, for even as far as they were from the forest within, they could still hear the suffering of the sacrifices, several each day, wild screams and cries that lifted up like flocks of birds beating at the dome.

  For all her anger, for all her building ferocity and savagery, still she hesitated. Yunara pleaded with her to revenge the attack on the Sefid, and Lerena promised she would. Yet for days she did nothing except rage and slaughter and wail in the forest. And again Yunara pleaded with her, and again Lerena promised . . .

  . . . except Chierma was the very last Beloved. Once she thought she had kille
d them all, and although it had cut her heart it had been necessary. Then she learned there was one more, a Beloved never loved by his mistress and so immune from the wild Wielding Lerena had performed to cull all his brothers and sisters throughout empire and kingdom. One last link to generations of selfless service and sacrifice. In her great fury she cursed his name aloud, saw his face before hers and spat on it, clawed at it, and then was overcome with the knowledge that his death would mark the final extinction of all that had come before and for no other reason than revenge. But Chierma could not be allowed to live. He had attacked the Sefid itself, the greatest of all crimes in Lerena’s mind.

  So day after day her anger rose in her like a great pyramid until the time came she could use it unhesitatingly, and then she sealed off the dome from any intrusion, summoned Yunara to her side, and dragged from under her dress the small child she had just caught running in the forest, its poor chest already pierced by her claws and bleeding so badly it would die very soon.

  ‘Now?’ Yunara asked. ‘You don’t have to wait for the sacrifice, you know. You probably never have to sacrifice again. Just do it.’

  Lerena stroked the child’s hair. How she loved it, loved the frail thing with its eyes fluttering in shock and its heart fluttering out its blood.

  ‘What is life without sacrifice?’ Lerena said, and put the child out of its misery.

  *

  Chierma noticed how people started using the house again. He thought stories of what had happened would spread throughout Hamewald and he and his residence would be avoided even more than before, but the reverse seemed to happen, as if they knew the strange events in the house, and the strange behaviour of the governor, had ended the haunting, had freed Hamewald of a most unpleasant, though never seen, visitor.

  The guards attended their duty more diligently, cleaners actually cleaned properly, cooks used the kitchen instead of carting food in from outside, and visitors started calling again. Best of all, Feruna did not have to draw on his considerable resources of courage and loyalty to work by Chierma’s side.