by David Drake
At last he faced Garric, forcing his lips into a jagged smile.
"Never again! I think you'd do better to use yeomen rather than gutter sweepings, but I gave my oath to serve you. The kingdom can't survive another battle like the Stone Wall; and as you say, it barely survived the first one."
Garric took two strides and clasped right arms with Lord Waldron. Royhas and Attaper hopped out of the way, blank-faced.
"I've a notion for using more heavy infantry on the ships to protect the flanks of the phalanx," Garric said. His voice still trembled. "Trireme hulls with one set of oars and a double crew of pikemen to row in shifts, with the third set of benches for your Northern District yeomen. But for now the pikemen are better value for the money, at a silver Lady a day instead of the two a heavy infantryman earns."
Waldron nodded understanding, though a frown he couldn't control furrowed his brow. They stepped apart, both of them glad nothing worse than words had eventuated.
"He's smart enough," Carus said, assaying Waldron through Garric's eyes, "and he's a better than fair general. But though he can see the advantage of being able to get troops where they're needed without waiting on winds, he's frightened by how fast things are changing. Just don't use the word 'frightened' to his face."
"We've been able to manage thus far on the wealth the queen had sequestered," Royhas said, surveying traffic on the river to avoid looking at Garric and Waldron. "That can't continue forever, though."
Garric had returned property when the owners or their heirs could be identified, but a great deal of the queen's treasure came from no certain victim or from families which had perished utterly in the queen's ruthlessness. Those monies had paid the expenses of government since Garric took charge.
"It won't have to, Royhas," said Pterlion in a peevish tone. The chancellor's comment had trespassed on the treasurer's domain, and Pterlion was as much at pains as any householder to prevent encroachment by his neighbors. "The taxes are coming in quite nicely, and I'll see to it that they continue to do so."
"Which should be easy enough, now that the Royal Army isn't a joke any more," Attaper said with a grim smile.
Garric looked at the commander of the Blood Eagles. He liked and respected Attaper, but....
"Lord Attaper," he said, "my ancestor Carus used to think that a strong swordarm was the best way to ensure his orders were obeyed. If he stood before you now--"
Garric's smile and that of the king in his mind were identical.
"--he'd be the first to tell you that he was wrong in that belief. Our soldiers aren't tax gatherers."
Garric paused, letting his grin grow broader. "Though there might be a case when marching a few well-disciplined regiments through a district would convince the folk there that their taxes were being well spent."
The ships in the basin had reformed. The triple call sounded. The triremes started toward one another again, all ten of them, though the vessel with a dozen dead or injured crewmen on its narrow deck lagged behind the others in its division.
"Oh, may the Sister drag me down!" Koprathu moaned. "He's going to do it again!"
Lord Waldron unexpectedly laughed. "I don't know that I'd care to serve under your friend Zettin, Attaper," he said. "But I wouldn't mind having a bold man like him at my side if it came to strokes."
Attaper gave a nod and a slight smile to acknowledge his rival's apology. It was as close as Waldron could come to an apology, at any rate. "The kingdom can use bold men, Waldron," he said aloud, "though I hope Zettin doesn't prove overbold."
The warships coasted past one another. The rowers had all shipped their oars in time. The vessels passed noticeably farther apart than they had in the first sweep-through.
"It's better to lose a few men in training," Garric said with a wry smile that only the man he was quoting would understand, "than to lose a fleet the first time they do it for real."
Attaper and Waldron looked at Garric oddly. They were both hard men when the need was; it surprised them, though, to hear a youth like Garric sounding just as pragmatic as they were.
Zettin's trumpets blew a long attention call, followed by a quick tattoo of cymbals. The triremes formed in line ahead and followed their leader upriver to the sheds at a stately pace. Water slipped in silver showers from the oarblades as they feathered and dipped for another stroke.
"In a few months," Garric said. "Before the end of the sailing season, at least, I'll pay a friendly visit to Sandrakkan and Blaise in the new Royal Fleet. The Lady and the general contrariness of fate permitting, of course."
"Wildulf and Lerdoc can either one put more troops in the field than we'll have trained by then, your highness," Attaper warned. Even in private, where the other councillors said, "Garric," with Garric's full approval, the Blood Eagles' commander used formal address for his prince.
"So they can," Royhas said, entering the discussion as chancellor of the Kingdom of the Isles that he and Garric alone of this group foresaw. The others members of the council were Ornifal nobles first, last, and only. They visualized the kingdom as an extension of Ornifal power in the rare cases that they thought about the kingdom at all. "In a week, would you say, Lord Waldron?"
The old soldier snorted. "In two weeks they might have half the nobles' household troops gathered. The rest won't dribble in for two months, those who show up at all. As I know well."
He grinned wryly, obviously thinking of the struggle he'd had to raise support from his fellow northern landholders to garrison Erdin against the queen's return. "As for the local militias, anywhere from a month to never, not that they'd be much use except for skirmishers anyway."
"We're building a kingdom for every citizen of the Isles," Garric said. His voice filled and deepened, but without the harsh, hectoring tone of minutes before when he faced Waldron's disparagement of folk not of his own class. "Lerdoc of Blaise and Wildulf of Sandrakkan want to go their own ways, but that makes it harder for them to convince their own nobles to jump to what the count or the earl says."
"Many a local landholder would rather see a strong king off in Valles," King Carus noted. His grin widened into a broad smile. "Or Carcosa, it may be once again--than they would their own baron a few hours away have all the power he wants. And they're right to feel that way!"
The triremes had passed out of sight into the channel leading to the naval arsenal. Garric sighed, knowing it was time to return to the palace but enjoying the last of these moments of relative freedom.
The noblemen had come in their individual carriages. The vehicles waited on the margin of the highway, each driver grooming his pair of horses while the postillions polished brightwork or the leather seats. Garric had chosen to ride with Pterlion to get a feeling for how the fellow--a distant cousin of Tadai's--was doing in his post, and to make it clear to Royhas that the new treasurer was a full member of Garric's council. Like so many of the suggestions that guided Garric through political snares and deadfalls, this one had come from Liane.
The Blood Eagles' horses cropped coarse grass nearby. Normally cavalry operating dismounted would detail every fifth man as a horseholder. The bodyguards--who considered themselves mounted infantry rather than cavalry anyway--brought grooms for the purpose so that all of them were ready to protect the prince with their swords and their lives.
"I promised Liane I'd be back before midday to go over the petitions," Garric said aloud, "and it's almost that now. Royhas, if you don't mind I'll ride--"
A trim carriage trotted down the road from the city behind a handsome pair of mules. The only thing that made it different from a wealthy shopkeeper's vehicle on the way to a riverside picnic was its escort: four mounted Blood Eagles leading, and four more riding behind.
"As the Lady smiles on me!" Garric said. "That's Liane driving!"
And Tenoctris in the seat beside her, Garric saw. His councillors turned to peer beyond the backs of the guards around them.
Few but professional teamsters and the scions of wealthy households
could drive with any skill. Liane had learned on the vast estates her father owned on Sandrakkan before wizardry led to his disgrace. Now that opportunity returned she was indulging her hobby with considerable panache. Tenoctris' lips pursed with concern as Liane drove the carriage over the paved drainage swale bordering the highway, bouncing first one wheel and then the other high in the process.
"My lords and Master Koprathu," Garric resumed, "I believe we're done here. I thought to share your coach on the trip back, Royhas, but it seems that other arrangements have been made."
"I regret losing the chance to discuss district assessors with you, your highness," Royhas said--smiling, but with an undertone of real dismay in his voice. "You'll certainly have more attractive company this way, however."
Waving his leave to the councillors, Garric walked to the carriage rather than ordering the guards to let Liane through their lines. The Blood Eagles took their orders very literally--and given that one King of the Isles had been murdered by his own mother, perhaps that careful literalness was as it should be.
Garric squeezed Liane's hand, then swung up onto the rear-facing seat paired back-to-back with the one on which she and Tenoctris sat. "To the palace?" he asked, turning so that he sat sideways on the bench. He leaned forward to put his head between those of the two women.
"If you're done here," Liane said as she clucked the mules around in a tight circle. She touched the ear of the inside beast with her whip, as lightly as the brush of a butterfly's wing.
The guards assigned to Liane and Tenoctris fell in before and behind. The rank which guarded Garric himself ran for its horses and would clop along at a gallop until it caught the carriage. Garric thought of suggesting to Liane that she take it easy, but driving fast was one of the few things that really relaxed her.
"I wanted to see how the new crews were shaping up," Garric said, shouting over the roar of the iron tires on the pavement. His seat behind the axle jounced significantly more than the front one did. Tenoctris had started to offer him hers, but the old woman needed the relative comfort much more than Garric did. "And I wanted my councillors to see them also. Traditionally the fleet has been crewed by fishermen and bargees, so the concept of using laborers is new to Ornifal nobles."
"They aren't sailors?" Tenoctris asked curiously. The practical questions of kingship were of no real concern to her, but she had an inquiring mind that found interest in any puzzle or seeming paradox.
"Not when they're hired," Garric agreed. "But they're used to work--and to hardship. And there's worse things we could do than show the poorest folk, day laborers from Valles and the countryside, that they too can serve the kingdom if they like."
He stretched, one arm and then the other so that he could keep a hand firmly on the seat's railing. Liane brought the mules along with pops of her whip. The tip never quite touched the beasts, but it left them in no doubt as to what would happen if they slacked. At each snap! the mules' ears twitched.
"Tenoctris has reached a temporary impasse with her researches," Liane said, giving the wizard the brief nod that was all that could be spared from the driving.
"Ah," Tenoctris said, taking up her cue. She turned toward Garric while continuing to cling to the seat with both hands. "I haven't been able to penetrate the barriers separating me from other the plane in which the bridge is anchored, Garric. That would take more power than I have, or better tools; and the tools at least are available. This evening I hope to visit a wizard who has a viewing crystal. I normally couldn't, but I hope the bridge will ease my task sufficiently."
"And I'm going with her, to carry her equipment," Liane said; pointedly not looking at Garric. "You and I can review the petitions first, of course."
Garric laughed. They'd reached the outskirts of Valles proper; even with the Blood Eagles for outriders, Liane was having to slow down. He for one was thankful.
"Of course I'll go with you," he said affectionately in answer to the implied question.
"But you're busy," Tenoctris said. "There shouldn't be danger in this. I trust you beside me as I could few others, but I know you have more important duties."
"I have to be king," Garric said, "and it may be that I'll have to be a general. But if I can't be Garric or-Reise part of the time, I'll get as addled as last year's egg."
He put a hand on the shoulder of either woman. They all three laughed together; and Carus, who'd never had even Garric's tolerance for the grinding business of kingship, guffawed in Garric's mind.
Ilna looked over the stern railing at the weeds and colorful fish as the vessel rocked at anchor in the clear water. On both ships the passengers stretched, gathered personal belongings they wanted to take ashore with them, and snarled at servants for clumsiness, stupidity or simply because the voyage was uncomfortable and folk of rank liked to snarl at their inferiors.
"Is something wrong, Ilna?" Merota asked with a note of worry. The girl had been cheerful most of the day, excited by the glimpses of unfamiliar birds and fish.
"Wrong with the world?" Ilna said, barking a laugh. "Yes, but it isn't a new problem. Nothing to do with you, Merota."
Ilna grinned with amusement, an expression very different from her laugh of a moment before. The problem didn't affect her either. Nobody was going to take his bad temper out on Ilna os-Kenset.
Lord Neyral had been lounging amidships in the shade of the embroidered awning with Tadai and his top aides. When Vonculo called that they'd made the day's landfall, it took the nominal captain more than a minute to get up and walk back to the stern.
"Surely we can go farther today, Vonculo?" Neyral said as he joined his sailing master. "There's half the afternoon left, and the weather's fine."
"I think it's best that we overnight here, milord," Vonculo said. "There's firewood and firm ground to stake your tents on. And I'm not so confident about good weather as you are, though your lordship is doubtless my superior in reading the sky."
His tone was dismissive rather than directly insulting. It was, Ilna recalled with a flash of anger, much like the tone Neyral himself had used when Ilna warned the commanders about the threat of mutiny.
"Is it really going to storm, Ilna?" Merota whispered. The warship's stern was very narrow, and much of the space was taken by the helmsman who stood holding the bar that worked the tillers of both steering oars together. The officers were close enough that Ilna could have touched them, but they were too focused on one another and their mutual anger to take note of what Merota or anyone else was saying.
Ilna glanced at the sky, clear except for high haze and cirrus clouds. Any countryman, let alone an experienced sailor like Vonculo, knew that there wouldn't be a storm this day or the next. "No, of course not," she said to the girl.
Mastyn watched the officers with an expression of sneering contempt from the trireme's bow. He held the line of the kedge anchor he'd cast over the side to hold the vessel while Neyral made a final decision about the landfall. The Ravager waited a bowshot away. Four oars bow and stern stroked slowly to keep the ship from drifting on the light current.
"Sister take it, man!" Neyral said. "How long are we to be bobbing hither and yon like this? I'd understood there was a good chance, a very good chance, that we'd be ashore in Erdin in three days sail. It seems it'll take a week at the rate you've been going!"
"Perhaps the fine gentlemen in Valles told you the voyage would take a few days, my lord," Vonculo said, looking down the bridge of his nose at his captain. "The same ones who calculated the headway we'd make using only one bank of oars on ships loaded like priests coming home from a temple banquet! A sailor with practical experience could have told them that the currents set wrong for sailing west at this time of year, of course."
Ilna's eyes narrowed. Vonculo was lying. She knew nothing about currents and winds, but she could hear the way words shaped and wove. Neyral knew as little of seamanship as she did, and unlike Ilna anger shut his mind off completely. Not that the captain was ever going to be praised as one o
f the great thinkers of this age.
Lord Neyral flushed. "Well, you know what I th-think?" he cried in a high voice. "I th-think you're a, you're a--you're no good, Vonculo. I think that's why it's taking us so long on these Sister-cursed ships that roll all over the sea!"
Vonculo folded his arms across his chest. "Well, milord, you can replace me as you choose," he said distantly. "Perhaps you'd be better acting as your own sailing master. I can only offer you my best opinion, and if you prefer not to take it--well, that is your lordship's option."
Merota kept her eyes on the frigate birds circling overhead, but her little hand squeezed Ilna's hard. Ilna found a certain beauty in the birds' red throat sacs and their wings--long, narrow, and as crooked as sickle blades--but she knew that the girl was really watching distant things because she was so afraid of what was happening close by.
Lord Tadai had risen from his couch and was making his way sternward with Roubos and the other five Blood Eagles aboard. Despite their care, the weight of so many men moving made the vessel's narrow hull roll violently. Tadai's complexion was greenish, and two of his bodyguards seemed in little better condition.
"What's the problem?" Tadai asked. "Are we landing or aren't we?"
"I think we should go on, Tadai," Neyral said, his brow ridged with frustration. "We'll never get to Erdin if we don't use the daylight we have!"
Vonculo continued to stand with his arms folded. "Whatever the captain wishes," he said. "If the captain will direct me, I will carry out his orders precisely--even if that means tearing the bottoms out of the ships and drowning every man of us!"
Tadai looked in bilious amazement from one man to the other. "For pity's sake, Neyral," he said. "What's wrong with this place? It looks better than the one we camped on last night. And I for one wouldn't mind having something under my feet that didn't move!"
The captain clenched his fist, though who or what he'd thought of striking wasn't clear. He was obviously furious with Tadai for taking the sailing master's part; but Vonculo, the ship itself, and the whole pattern of reality were equally frustrating to him.