The new sergeant came in; he was more a snap-and-polish man than the old one had been, but he seemed to get less done. He did everything, though, with many flourishes, which Oto liked. Now the sergeant whirled his arm up in a broad salute.
“Glory to the Empire! My lord, there are ships coming in. Imperial ships. They’re approaching the bay now; they’ve sent for pilots.”
“The fleet,” Oto said. “The fleet, at last.”
He felt everything in him go slack; he had not realized until now how tight and close he was holding himself. He resisted the impulse to fling his arms into the air and cheer. Beaming, he nodded to Jeon. “Now we shall have troops. And arms. See? I told you the Empire would not forget us.” He rushed to the door. “Come; we shall greet them.” He pounded off down the stairs, free again.
* * *
Jeon stood planted where he was. He had forgotten about the fleet. Now Oto had another army, bigger, probably better. The sea had betrayed Jeon; after all his work and planning, it was washing him off his feet. He thought, despairingly, he might not be able to do this.
Oto called, “Prince Jeon!”
Numbly he followed.
* * *
Tirza walked down into the town; from the buildings along the cliff, a steady stream of the people was crowding toward the beach, where already half the town stood watching the mouth of the bay. She saw the flutter of a banner: Oto was there at the water’s edge. She shaded her eyes with her hand, looking south toward the bay’s entrance.
In between the tip of the Jawbone and the far beach, the thing was coming in. She had seen this before, the flat bulky front below the naked mast, the up and down of the oars on either side. Some deep memory rolled ominously in her stomach. A shout went up from the crowd. Everybody loved when a ship came.
She saw Aken the butcher’s broad, tall back, down in the middle of a clump of watching people, and went up behind him. The galley was sliding in through the channel. Its red and blue awnings fluttered; men in striped doublets lined its sides, shoulder to shoulder, holding pikes, dozens of men. The galley’s painted sides reflected on the water, and it stroked out onto the deep water of the harbor, hauled around bow to the beach, and with a clatter of chains and a splash lowered its anchor.
A little cheer went up along the beach, from Oto’s soldiers and some of the townspeople. Next to Tirza, Aken did not cheer. He stood with his thumbs hooked on the strings of his apron, his face set.
She stared at him, putting all her mind into this, until at last he turned to her. His whiskered face was harsh. “What do you want, girl?” He spread his hands. Blood splattered his apron and blood encrusted his fingernails. “What do you think I can do?”
She went closer, half his height, looking straight up into his face, and poked him in the chest, scowling. She kept her lips together, for fear of barking at him. She pointed at the ship, now lowering a small boat over the side. She jabbed Aken again and drew her finger across her neck. Beyond Aken, Trollo was watching them.
Aken grunted at her. He gave a glance around, and frowned down at her. “Go away, girl. There’s nothing left. Luka brought me back from the massacre in the mountains. I would have given my life for him. But he’s gone and there’s nothing left.” Aken turned his back on her. Trollo met her gaze a moment, and looked away.
She went to Lumilla, the brewster, who was standing nearer to the cypress tree among a bunch of other women. Lumilla gave a little shake of her head.
“What is this, Tirza? What do you think we ought to do? Look, there—another ship.” Lumilla pointed down the bay. Another great wooden whale was rowing up toward the entrance. “What could we do against such as these?”
”Luka would have told you,” Tirza burst out.
At the angry gush of noise the brewster recoiled, raising a hand between them. “Go,” she said. “Who can talk to you? Get Jeon. Send Jeon to talk to me.” She turned, and walked back into the shelter of the other women.
Tirza stood where she was. The second galley was even more splendid than the first, painted and gilded, its deck packed with armed men, even in the cages on the masts, armed men. She went on down toward the banner flopping and curling on its staff, looking for her brother, and found him there, where Oto sat his horse among his men on foot, Jeon standing at his stirrup, looking small.
* * *
Amillee lingered a moment, her eyes on Tirza. She felt sorry for the scrawny little creature, with her hair like wild rust, her animal voice, now the last, almost, of her family.
Up there on its crag loomed Castle Ocean. Amillee thought of Luka, and what he had said to her. But he was dead, and no one was taking his place.
Her mother came to her. “I think,” she said, “we are about to make some money.” She slapped Amillee on the arm. “Help me bring out a keg.”
Amillee said, “That’s all you think about. I hate these people.” She stared down toward the galleys, messengers from another world, where maybe they did things differently from here.
“Then don’t help me,” Lumilla said stiffly, and went on up the beach. Amillee folded her arms over her chest, waiting to see what happened next.
* * *
“Two ships,” Oto said under his breath. “Two ships.”
Jeon glanced at him and turned back to the galleys. He wondered if he had lost the whole game now. If he had ever had a chance. He had forgotten how splendid an Imperial galley was, even these, battered from their passage, their paint worn. Lined up along the gunwales were a hundred men, heavily armed, against whom he had no force. He turned to look back toward the mouth of the bay, wondering if there were more coming, but out beyond the jagged tip of the Jawbone was only the dark blue sea beneath the pale blue sky.
From the nearer of the two big galleys a flat barge lowered down. A man as gaudy as the ship sat in the prow; four oars to a side, the crew rowed in toward Oto’s banner. As it approached, the crowd on the beach gathered closer. The barge rammed into the beach halfway through the surf and its oarsmen leapt out and pulled it up to dry land. The officer stepped off and strode up toward Oto.
“My lord.” A stout man in a red coat, gold buttons, gold strings of braid over the shoulders, his face leathery from the sun. He stopped before Oto and bowed.
“Glory to the Empire. Admiral Lord Count Unbard ip Stencop brings you the greetings of your Emperor!”
All around, the soldiers called out, “Glory! Glory!”
Oto did not bow. On the horse, he towered over everybody, which Jeon thought was the point. Oto said, “Is this is all? Two ships? We were promised a great fleet.”
“Well, we are both disappointed, as I expected King Erdhart.” The rolling voice clipped off the words. “I had five ships, several nights ago. We were attacked.”
Jeon had been staring glumly at the ships; at this news, he took a step backward, startled. A buzz went up all around the crowd. Oto gave a quick look over his shoulder.
“We should go somewhere to talk. Do you have dispatches for me, Stencop?”
The admiral glanced over his shoulder; an officer stood there, who came forward with a leather case. He gave this to Stencop, who handed it up to Oto. Oto tucked it under his arm.
“We shall go to the castle, and there confer.”
“I must settle my men,” Stencop said.
“You have officers to do that,” Oto said. “Follow me now.”
He turned to Jeon. “You stay here. Learn a little.” Oto turned his horse and rode off, and Stencop, with a frown, strode after him.
Jeon drifted off down the beach a little. He wanted to know what had happened to Stencop, but what Jeon saw before him he could not leave. The two ships were anchored close enough to see the men clambering over them; they had lowered another barge. Some bulk of wood cluttered the deck of the near ship. Jeon saw the soldier Marwin nearby and went to him.
“What’s going on?”
Marwin was smiling across his whole face. “We’ve got it now, boy. They’ve brought
us some kickers.”
Jeon looked back toward the ship. “What?”
“On the deck there. Imperial War-bird Bomb-launchers. We call them kickers. Those are the Empire, right there. Wherever we put them, we rule.”
Jeon grunted. “They were attacked. Something beat them.” But left them their weapons. Nothing went perfectly.
Marwin shrugged. “Just a minor setback.” His eyes slid toward the banner. “The Empire is here now.”
Jeon pulled on his chin; his beard was growing out, and he liked the feel of it under his fingers. Something warm touched his side. He started. But it was Tirza, wrapping her fingers around his, leaning on him. He slid an arm around her and hugged her. He wondered if Tirza had known about the fleet coming here or if the ships had simply fallen in the way of whatever it was out there. Now here the barges were beaching and he went over to watch them unload the weapons that were the Empire.
* * *
Oto knew Stencop by sight and by name, and did not like him; their families were rivals at court. His appearance here was a goad from Oto’s uncle: “I have other men.” Oto led the admiral into the castle and up the stairs to his chamber, the while counting under his breath. He did not let himself be drawn to notice the loose stones scattered on the chapel landing. Under his arm, the dispatch case felt like burning lead.
In his chamber, while a soldier brought Stencop a chair, Oto used a knife to slit open the case, and pulled out the thick paper with its seals and ribbon and ink.
The dispatch opened without the proper protocols, going straight to the evil. I note with disapproval that this remote castle is not yet secured—
He ripped the paper to shreds. The admiral stood by the chair, in the center of the room, scowling at him. “Sir. This is unusual.”
Oto said, “He does not understand. He does not know what we’re fighting against.”
The soldier stood at Stencop’s elbow with a cup of wine, but the admiral ignored him. He had a broad red face, and his ornamented collar always seemed too tight. Oto glared at him, who also knew nothing. “So: you were attacked. What happened?”
Stencop did not answer for a moment. His vanity left him. He glanced around, maybe looking for help, and facing Oto again straightened, his shoulders squared.
“We were anchored inshore for the night, in revet formation. I heard screams—it was near dawn. I got to the deck in time to see the ship at the other end of the revet on fire, and then everything in her blew up at once.” Stencop’s jaws moved under his beard, as if he bit down on something. “Then two more ships went down in just a few minutes. The first ship had half the bombs. The next two had all the soldiers.” His jaw moved again, this time swallowing.
“This coast is infested with pirates. Who were they? What ships did they ply?”
“I never saw a ship,” the admiral said. He seemed to notice the chair, now, for the first time, and he sat down. “Just my ships, burning and sinking. It was like something moving around under the water.”
Oto guffawed. “What. Mermaids perhaps? You didn’t fight back? You were attacked, but you did not fight back?” He thrust out his hand. “Amazing to me that you dare to wear the braid.”
Stencop reached for the cup of wine the soldier had been trying for some time to give him. He said, “I am new come here and expected something of an Imperial welcome, the honor due a messenger from the Emperor. Instead I get this.” He looked Oto up and down, and then pointedly turned his gaze around the room. “Where is your brother?”
“My brother is dead, sir. You deal with me alone. I rule here.”
“The Empire rules here,” Stencop said, and drank. “Or should. Which is the problem, is it not?”
Oto said, “Through me! Only through—”
A knock on the door jerked him around. When the soldier opened it, Jeon stood there.
“Well,” Oto blurted out. “You waited, for once, to come in the proper way.”
Stencop was frowning, puzzled, but Jeon smiled. He walked into the room, tall, slender, his red hair hidden under a cap, his new beard a pale fuzz. Oto thought, Kill him. Soon.
Jeon said, “Sir, may I ask him a question?”
“Who is this?” Stencop said. “Who interrupts? Lord Oto, I insist—”
Oto rounded on the sailor again. “You’ll obey me, Stencop. Me. Not whatever secret orders you have hidden in your sea chest.”
They stared at each other a moment. Stencop was half out of the chair; finally, he settled back down into it.
“I assure you—”
“Later.” Oto’s hand chopped down, cutting Stencop off, and he turned back to Jeon. “Yes, yes. What is it?”
Jeon went up between them, Stencop in his chair and Oto standing by the table. “Sir, I think I know something important about the pirates.”
Stencop said, “Who is this?”
“Prince Jeon, a son of the local house,” Oto said. “What, Jeon? What is this?”
“Let me ask this of you.” Jeon turned to the admiral. “Sir, when you were attacked, was it near dawn?”
Stencop scowled around the great greying shag of his beard. “Yes, it was.” He glanced at Oto.
“And you were near to shore?” Jeon asked.
“We were at anchor, just offshore.”
“And was the tide making?”
“Yes. We had to rake off the shore to get away. A strong tide.”
Jeon turned back to Oto. “You know I found a witness, at the new fort. He said the pirates came in at dawn, with a making tide.”
Oto thought, He is too slick; he is treacherous. But the logic drew Oto in. “Go on.”
Jeon went to the table, where there were some pieces of dinnerware. “Let me show you. Last fall Santomalo burnt to the ground, no survivors.” He put the saltcellar on the table. “At the beginning of winter, another village, here. Burnt. No survivors. In the midwinter, the New Fort. Burnt. No survivors.” He set down the oil jar and the candlestick, a few inches apart, to the right of the salt. “Then, this attack on the fleet. Burnt.” He stuck a knife into the tabletop to the right of that.
“Many survived,” Stencop said hoarsely.
“The intent here maybe was different,” Jeon said. “To disable the fleet, more than to take slaves.” He reached across the table for Oto’s cup. “So. Santomalo, the village, the new fort, the fleet. They are coming down the coast, harvesting people.”
Stencop grunted. Oto locked his hands together behind his back. The line of objects on the table held his eyes.
Jeon looked from one to the other. “And here we are.” He put the cup at the right end of the line. “And we are next.”
Oto could not look away from this. His mind was churning. He was a King with no men. His only men were Stencop’s men.
Stencop said, “They have been raiding up and down the coast and you have done nothing?”
Oto pulled his gaze to Jeon. “This is Castle Ocean. Who would dare attack?”
“They will go for Undercastle,” Jeon said. “To do that, they must come into the bay.” His eyes shone, and he leaned toward Oto a little, urgent. His voice dropped. He said, “But if we know they are coming, my lord, we can set a trap for them. You have wonderful new weapons. You can defeat them. And that will prove you King against anybody, my lord. Anybody.”
Oto cleared his throat; he did not like Stencop hearing this, but Jeon made sense to him. He thought, Don’t kill him yet.
Jeon said, “Right now, at sunrise the tide here is slack. But when the moon’s full, ten days from now, it will be making. At dawn. And we should be ready.”
Oto forced himself to laugh, careless. “Well, maybe. You have certainly thought this all out, haven’t you. I’ll take it under consideration.” He nodded. He avoided looking at either of them; he needed to look sure of himself, the power firmly in his hands.
“If you are right, Prince Jeon, I will make you an Imperial Count.”
Jeon bowed down before him. “Your servant, my lord.”
* * *
Stencop went back down to the beach, to see to his men. Oto loitered awhile in the upper chamber. Jeon waited with him, and when he left followed him down the stair of the new tower. When they came down to the chapel landing, which was littered with broken stone, Oto stopped, one hand out to hold Jeon back. Jeon moved slightly out of reach: he hated Oto’s touch. He saw that Oto wanted Stencop well out of earshot, and he guessed what Oto wanted to talk about.
“Why will they not do this properly?” He waved at the doorway into the chapel.
Jeon said, “Maybe they can’t, sir.” The doorway and the space beyond were packed solid with the black rock; that was what knocked the stones out of the wall, the rock pushing outward. It occurred to him it would push against any wall of quarried stone.
The possibilities in that flowered in his mind, so that for a moment he did not hear that Oto spoke to him, and he came back to himself only when Oto said sharply, “Are you listening to me?”
Jeon jerked his gaze to the Archduke’s. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”
“What will stop it?”
Nothing, Jeon almost said, and thoughtlessly he looked up the stairs, toward Oto’s chambers.
At that, the Archduke hooted. “No need to speak. That says it all. I shall move myself out at once.” He leveled a mirthful stare at Jeon. “You’re not that clever, you know,” he said, and went away.
Jeon followed him down into the antechamber. Somehow Jeon had not foreseen this: now Oto would choose to go somewhere else, perhaps out of reach. Jeon could not control this, only ride on it. In the center of the antechamber, the Archduke stood ordering around the three men posted there. Jeon glanced down at the foot of the stair he had just left. The gap between the living rock and the quarried stone had closed. Those stones along the edge were starting out of their places. The backs of his hands tingled. He went on, to go down to the beach, to see what was happening there.
16
Marwin was saying, “This is why we’re fighting in the south, see, to get this stuff.”
With his foot he nudged a long, flat plank, not wood, which clinked when his boot struck it. There were three of these and they had been brought ashore like babies, each wrapped in its own coat of thick cloth and laid carefully down on blocks. The grunting soldiers were hauling a frame up from the grounded barge, an angular construction of wooden beams, taller than any of them, wider than three of them. The sun was bright and hot; Jeon was sweating, and he was doing little more than standing around watching. He unhooked the front of his coat and took it off.
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