Kattaren sighed.
I am so tired. Tired of training from dawn to dusk, tired of missing my family, tired of this foreign presence in our lands. Trang looked up, half-mumbled the chant, the words taught to him long ago by Grandmother Liu, the venerable headwoman of his village.
But what other choice is there?
Chapter Thirty-Two
Only Treason
Vermilies cursed as an unseen branch tore at his robes. The jungle canopy dimmed the light, Captain Salassi's little flotilla resting at anchor some distance away, already unnoticeable past the thick vine-covered trunks of the old growth jungle. I need to get this finished soon. I'll be damned if I'm spending the night in this jungle.
The four Syriot sailors with him weren't any more pleased. "Are we there yet?" one of them asked.
"How should I-"
Vermilies fell silent as he heard the snapping of a branch in the distance. A jaguar, perhaps? Whispering followed it. Whispering jaguars, perhaps?
"Who goes there?" a voice said in the Standard Dialect, unseen through the dense foliage of the jungle.
"We're a treaty party," Vermilies replied, cutting through the tense silence. "Are you with Lord Shinzen?"
The silence lengthened, broken only by mumbling and whispers, and the cracking of twigs as the Syriots crept closer.
"Come with us," the sentry replied. "We'll take you to Lord Shinzen."
"What's he saying?" one of the Syriots rasped to Vermilies, who moved to shush him.
"We're coming up," Vermilies said to the sentry. "Hold your fire." Vermilies glanced at the Syriots around him. "They're Lord Shinzen's men. Just stay quiet and follow my lead."
They pushed up through the jungle until they saw a few Shinzen soldiers in the gloom waving them over. Vermilies noted with satisfaction that everyone was careful to keep their weapons sheathed.
“Syriots?” the sentry asked. “So this is what they look like.” He nodded, evidently satisfied with their appearance. “But how did you find us?”
“Balloons,” Vermilies said, pointing to the sky. The sentry grunted and spat.
“It’s damned creepy how they float in the air. Well, follow me. Lord Palani Shinzen is encamped on the hill just above here.”
They trudged up the hill; the silence broken only by crashing in the trees above. Vermilies looked up to see a troop of gibbons hurtling past. The last of the monkeys hooted and hollered down at them.
One of the Syriots whistled as he paused to watch. "Just wait 'til I tell my daughter about them."
Vermilies pressed forward, trying to ignore the chattering Syriots behind him, as he squeezed past two massive trees. Ants were marching in a long line from one to the other, some walking across the tops of narrow vines, and Vermilies paused to brush a few off his robe.
"How old is she?" another Syriot asked.
"She must be six now. Her birthday was around the time we reached the Jade Sea Islands."
A few of the nearby Shinzen guards exchanged glances.
"What are they talking about?"
"They must be spies. Our camp's layout, perhaps. Sir, do you really think-"
"Cut the chatter," the first sentry said, evidently the leader of this patrol. He looked around, squinting in confusion for a moment, then strode past a proliferation of yellow flowers. The rest followed along, and then the forest opened up to a gradual hill with vegetation trimmed back. Through the thinning foliage Vermilies caught snatches of unconcerned Shinzen men hacking away at tree limbs or carrying bundles of supplies.
This hill is a prominent location with views all around. A perfect place to keep watch on the surrounding area.
"Be careful around here," the sentry said as they clambered higher, the sounds of camp activity blending with the noises of the jungle. "This terrain can get infested with swamp dragons."
Paper lanterns blossomed in the distance, providing a pleasant orange glow even as bugs buzzed around, and the chatter of soldiers increased as they approached. The sentries had taken him to the center of the hill where a pavilion was erected, smaller tents sprouting out all around it like mushrooms after the rains.
Lamps reflected on the armor of a half-dozen guards sitting around a campfire. One of them rose, then another, and the armored guards approached the sentry. A wild hog was roasting on a spit above the fire and Vermilies felt a pang of hunger. It had been several days since they left Tamani, the flotilla of shallow-drafted Syriot vessels sailing back up the Irragonda River, and a few hours since they had docked close to where the Shinzen forces had been sighted.
"A messenger from the Syriots," the sentry said, as the guards eyed the Syriots with suspicion. Even in the darkness Vermilies could make out the emblem of the Shinzen clan and from their thick armor and bearing he gathered they were Lord Shinzen's elite troops.
"I'll let our lord know," one of the guards said in a low, raspy voice. He stepped through the forming ranks of curious and wary guardsmen and ducked into the entrance of the pavilion.
The Syriots shifted in discomfort beside Vermilies, uncomfortable with the impassive stares they were receiving. The sentry left without any farewell, as the number of Shinzen guards grew, snapping from the undergrowth behind them indicating they were surrounded.
"Steady," Vermilies muttered in Syriot to the men beside him. The closest one, lit by the nearby campfire, licked his lips and remained silent. One of the guards turned to another.
"Should we kill them?"
Vermilies stood straight and kept his expression neutral. Sometimes it's best not to eavesdrop.
After another uncomfortable minute the first guard emerged from the pavilion. He locked eyes with Vermilies, hand falling to his hilt, and stepped close. In the crackling light of the campfire he looked like a demon deciding on Vermilies's fate.
After a moment he jerked his head over to the pavilion.
"Just you."
Vermilies made his way through the ranks of armored guardsmen.
"What's going on?" one of the Syriots asked behind him, but Vermilies had no time for them. He breathed in heavily, smelling the sweet tangy smoke of the burning jungle wood, bracing for whatever may come. From within the pavilion came the sounds of arguing. A man and a woman. Vermilies's hand paused at the entrance.
Then he gripped the hide covering and pulled away, stepping through the narrow entrance, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light within.
A man and a woman in the black robes of the Shinzen clan were seated behind a teak desk; the man slouched behind a bowl of soup and a cup of wine, the woman sitting prim and alert behind a bundle of scrolls. The tanned hide walls of the pavilion were arrayed with silk tapestries depicting waterfalls and tigers. Apparently the Shinzens prefer to travel in style.
"Lord and Lady Shinzen. I assume you know I am here to win you over to the Syriot Empire. They are willing to formally invest you in office as Governor, Lord Palani Shinzen, and have sent an advance of four crates of gold and silver so that you can better secure your reign."
Vermilies paused, letting the silence fall, as the man took a sip of wine.
"And the condition for this 'generosity?'" Lady Naowatara Shinzen asked after a moment.
"Merely to stand neutral in this coming engagement. If you were to switch sides, the Syriot Empire would be very favorably inclined to you, but for now they simply ask you to step aside."
Lord Shinzen set his cup down. He was broad-shouldered and stern, with a thin, wispy beard, and turned to whisper in the woman's ear. She turned and almost imperceptibly shook her head.
Lord Shinzen shrugged. "My wife is not so keen on your plan, translator."
"My name is Enbo Vermilies and I am not here to haggle."
"It isn't the price," Lady Shinzen said. "Our clan will pay a great cost for this decision and it is the people of my clan that are most important to me."
Vermilies raised his eyebrows. "You think the boy emperor's forces are in any respect the equal of the Syriot forces? I as
sure you, you have much more to fear from the Syriots than from a band of conscripts with bamboo spears like the Kintari army. Or, if you'll forgive me for being blunt, like your own."
"Perhaps my wife is right," Lord Shinzen said. "Perhaps these Syriots are simply a storm that blows over. You're speaking of treason."
"A storm? The Syriots are a hurricane the likes of which your lands have never seen before. And what trees last when the hurricane arrives? Not the solid and unyielding. It is those that bend with the storm that will outlast it."
The two nobles looked at each other. The two of them made for an attractive pairing, though from Vermilies's half-remembered notes Lady Shinzen had once been married to the man's older brother. A life cut short from disease, and a new marriage, still fresh. Perhaps I can work with that.
"These Syriots, what is it that they want?" Lady Shinzen asked as her husband brooded.
"Oh, conquest is all the rage across the ocean, or so I've heard. All the royal houses love to add to their colonial possessions so they have something to brag about. But what the Syriots most desire is access to spice routes."
"They don't have spices?" Lord Shinzen asked, blinking over at his wife. "Their cooking must be bland indeed."
"I believe the nobility has come to impart almost magical qualities to a number of spices. The ability to prolong life, to cure diseases, to call upon the storms."
Lord Shinzen snorted, then sputtered out a burst of laughter. But beside him Lady Shinzen did not look so unimpressed. She cleared the desk of its scrolls and leaned forward, staring at Vermilies for a long moment. Then she glanced over to her husband as he composed himself.
"That doesn't sound so unreasonable to me. You remember the last Emperor? They say he went mad with the Power. I've heard rumors over the years that he became addicted to a spice."
"Well..." Lord Shinzen shrugged. "I suppose it's all the same to me. We can work with the Syriots. Not openly, you understand, but we can hold back from joining the Kintari army. I doubt you Syriots will have much trouble with them." He looked over as Lady Shinzen touched his arm.
"Remember that scout report, dear? They've hired some mercenaries from the East. A band of war elephants."
Lord Shinzen shrugged. "I doubt they'll amount to much in the end."
"I'm sure you're right," Vermilies said. "So shall we attend to business? I've been authorized to impart four crates of gold and silver to communicate our appreciation and a scroll formally investing you as governor." Vermilies rummaged in his tunic for the scroll and placed it on the desk. He unfurled it, pointing at the writing in Standard Dialect. Across from it the same terms were written in Syriot.
Lord Shinzen peered close at the scroll. "Their words are so chunky. All lines and-"
He bumped into the rice wine, spilling it on the scroll, but Vermilies quickly snatched the scroll back. He held it against his tunic to keep the material dry. Lord Shinzen mumbled apologies as he snatched up the rice wine and Lady Shinzen rolled her eyes.
"Careful, dear, it's only treason."
"Don't worry, good lord and lady," Vermilies said as he unfurled it once again. "The writing is clear and the material is sturdy. Now then, are you ready? Just sign here."
From within the teak desk Lord Palani Shinzen produced an ink well and a thin brush. He studied the scroll for a moment, like a swordsman examining his foe, and dabbed the brush in the ink well several times. Then his pen whipped forward in several slashing strokes and darted away, leaving the characters of his noble house on the scroll.
"And here. And once more here," Vermilies said, indicating the places as Lord Shinzen marked his name. Lord Shinzen studied his signatures and nodded in satisfaction.
"The unity of the Three Clans died when you Syriots landed. It's time to look after our own clan," he said. Lady Shinzen made no response and an uncomfortable silence lingered as the ink dried.
A simple scroll, looking so plain and ordinary on that desk. And the South is now in Syriot hands.
Carefully, Vermilies rolled up and pocketed one copy of the scroll and together they stared at the remaining scroll.
"Let's not keep that in the camp. Or the gold and silver. It could be damaging," Lord Shinzen said, shaking his head in frustration. "This invasion has brought out a dozen disagreements. Many of the soldiers wouldn't understand the realities of the situation. Not to mention the Xhan-Su contingent..." Lord Shinzen sighed and reached for Lady Shinzen's hand. He squeezed it for a long moment.
"Naowatara, I hate to ask this of you, but if you could take the royal elephants and haul the chests and document back to Salawanswari that would be best."
She nodded slowly. "I suppose we'll be avoiding battle, after all. So you won't need me and the elephants."
"The situation being what it is I would like you back at Salawanswari. I know you will keep the city safe."
"You'll be returning soon?"
Vermilies peered outside the tent, uncomfortable with the tenderness of the two, as they made their goodbyes. Perhaps when this is all over I really will agree to the arranged marriage. Perhaps she really isn't as boring as she seems...
"Are you ready, Vermilies?" Lady Shinzen asked, rising from her table, a satchel in one hand. "I will take your offerings back to Salawanswari."
Vermilies nodded. "Just this way, lady," he said as he ducked out of the encampment. He spared a brief smile for the uneasy Syriots and glanced back at the roasting pig as it was rotated over the fire. I suppose it's too much to ask for a bite. It would be quite an improvement on Syriot rations, though it's impressive how many weevils they're able to fit in a single loaf of bread.
"And they aren't offerings, Lady Shinzen," he said as the noblewoman joined him. "As a linguist it's important to be precise about these things. The Syriots are offering gifts. To start their overlordship off on the right foot."
"Gifts, then," Lady Shinzen said as she waved over a group of men and women from another nearby fire. "Give me a moment, I have a warband to organize."
Vermilies nodded, passing through the ranks of silent guardsmen, rejoining the Syriot sailors.
"She's very good with words, perhaps one day she'll be a magister's secretary," one of the Syriots was saying to the others. One of the sailors was yawning but perked up as Vermilies joined them.
"We're leaving," Vermilies announced. "The deal is done."
◆◆◆
The elephants moved out from the jungle, striding forward with soft bells tinkling, Lady Shinzen looking down from her howdah. Her elephant was daubed with festive blue and pink dye, traditional markings of an elephant on pilgrimage, while the others were plain and loaded down with supplies. Ringed around her howdah were decorative bronze bells, interspersed with multicolored flags, an unfurled parasol strapped to the howdah next to an enormous matchlock.
Lady Shinzen remained mounted as her laborers bustled around, strapping down the crates on the elephants, but her voice carried from above.
"A generous sum. Please give the Syriots my regards, Vermilies."
Vermilies bowed. As he rose, the first of the laden elephants were already moving out. From the jungle emerged a war elephant with an archer in a howdah and a lance-armed mahout. Another was emerging behind them as Vermilies looked back at Lady Shinzen to see her squinting in confusion at the fading light.
"Lady Shinzen?"
"I thought I saw something in the sky," she said, then shrugged. "Must have been a bird. Anyway, we'll be marching through the night so I must say my goodbyes."
"Through the night?" Vermilies asked. "Is that wise?"
"It's necessary," she said. "I will be glad for my husband's army to return in one piece and if racing back to our capital at Salawanswari is what is required then I am happy to play my part. Farewell, Vermilies. With the Syriots in control I am sure we will meet again."
Vermilies nodded, waving the gawking Syriots over, and led them out to the cove. One of the Syriots was rambling about telling his daughter about the big
gray monsters as Vermilies made his way through the periphery of the jungle. The glow of the fading sun illuminated the eyes of a creature perched in silence amid the treetops. Then it disappeared, crashing through the underbrush, and for a moment Vermilies wasn't sure if he had imagined it.
Vermilies paused and spared one final glance back. The column of elephants was already fading into the jungle. I don't envy her the trip back. Vermilies looked over to the outlines of the Hellfire and its nearby ships, docked in the nearby cove. I'm looking forward to getting some sleep.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Set Sail
The balloon was framed in the fading orange of the setting sun before it found the small fleet, although lookouts had spotted it some minutes past, shouting and jeering at the balloon’s faltering movements. At last it was bearing down on them, letting out gas as it slowly settled onto the open deck of Saint Garendar’s Gift, anchored in the cove next to the Hellfire and the Kraken’s Grasp. Bekhar watched it descend with some curiosity, not even noticing the Garendar’s first mate deftly removing a card from the table. The first mate leaned back, lighting his tobacco pipe and breathing smoke out slowly.
“Is this your first time seeing a balloon?” he asked.
“Yes,” Bekhar said, watching the wooden platform touching down on the open deck only a dozen spans away. He had come to understand some of the Syriot tongue over the past few weeks, though it still sounded strange.
“Balloon,” he echoed, looking at the half-dozen men putting out the fire under the canvas. Unlike the other ships, Saint Garendar’s Gift had a long, open deck. Bekhar was beginning to see the reason for it.
Captain Salassi climbed on the other side of the ship, having rowed the short distance across.
“Oh, here’s your captain,” the first mate observed leisurely.
“Not my captain,” Bekhar corrected, watching the balloon deflate.
Captain Salassi pulled himself aboard then stopped, staring at Bekhar and the first mate.
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