by Cas Peace
“My love, I have a feeling that this meeting will be awkward and uncomfortable. Maybe even hostile. I must ask you to listen and observe closely, but remain silent. I may have to play these men very carefully indeed.”
A couple of hours later, Sullyan and Robin were ushered into a much smaller but no less grand audience chamber than the one where they had first met the Hierarch. It was functional rather than formal. The throne sat at the head of a large oval table with chairs arranged around it to accommodate the other participants. The room was empty when Sullyan and Robin entered, and the page directed them to chairs at the side of the room where they could await the Hierarch and his generals.
Sullyan sat quite still, trying to appear calm and composed. She saw Robin watching her and knew he was nervous, never having attended such a high level meeting before. The fire opal pulsing at the open neck of her shirt betrayed the rapid beat of her own heart, and she knew Robin could see it. She sat in silence, hands folded in her lap, rehearsing what she would say. Much depended on the reactions of the generals, both to her news and her presence.
She didn’t have long to wait. Two guards opened the doors at the far end of the chamber and four men entered the room. At their head strode a truly massive and muscular man around forty-five years of age. He was black-haired and black-eyed, which was highly unusual for an Andaryan, and he wore full military uniform. His mouth was hidden by a dark mustache, and a rank badge showing a gold crown surmounted by three stars glittered on his chest.
Sullyan murmured, “Lord General Anjer.”
General Ephan followed Anjer, talking quietly to a shorter, stocky, pale-eyed man. Both bore double starred crown insignia. The last man was Commander Vanyr. He glanced sourly in Sullyan’s direction as he took his place behind one of the purple upholstered chairs. He stood there frowning, his white eyes cold and hostile. Sullyan ignored him.
Next to arrive was Baron Gaslek, and he nodded politely to Sullyan as he positioned himself to the right of the Hierarch’s throne, parchment and quills in hand. His expression bore a trace of speculative respect, and the Major inclined her head to acknowledge him.
Lastly, the Hierarch himself entered, flanked by two of his personal Guard. They escorted him to the throne before retiring to the door. At his entrance, everyone accorded him the Andaryan military salute; a closed fist held above the heart. Sullyan and Robin did likewise, adding the homage due to a Senior Master Artesan.
As the warlords took their chairs, Sullyan noticed Ephan regarding her curiously, no doubt weighing the implications of the Hierarch’s colors on her jacket. She didn’t allow herself to react, but kept her eyes on Pharikian. When they were all settled, he greeted them, his blue veined hands resting lightly on the table. He swept them with his yellow gaze, as if judging their mood. Sullyan thought he looked tired.
When he spoke, however, his voice was deep and strong. “Gentlemen, I believe there have been some developments in the deployment of Rykan’s forces. Your thoughts and reports, please.”
He sat. There was a slight pause as Ephan glanced at the two Albians and gave a disapproving frown. The Hierarch didn’t comment, and so Ephan gestured for Vanyr to give his report. In a light, clipped voice, the Commander obeyed.
“Majesty, at first light this morning my patrols returned to report that Lord Rykan’s forces have finally begun an advance on the Citadel. They are moving slowly and keeping to their marching formation. It is my opinion that if they continue to advance at this rate and remain unopposed, they will be able to adopt siege positions in around four days’ time.”
Sullyan stiffened and stared hard at the Hierarch, but he was considering what Vanyr had said.
“Based on this information, Ephan, what is your recommendation?”
The General turned his head, his pale eyes regarding his ruler. “My recommendation remains unchanged, Majesty. We should sit tight. Rykan doesn’t field enough men to mount an effective siege, and the Caer is well provisioned. His lack of action since issuing the formal challenge has allowed us ample time to lay in extra stores. So let him surround us. Let him break his forces against our walls. We can pick off his men at leisure, and he’ll soon grow tired of his losses. And if he doesn’t, then our reserve troops can be summoned and they will dissuade him from continuing the siege.”
Ephan’s casual reaction to the possibility of Rykan besieging the Caer made Sullyan gasp aloud. The other general, whose name she had yet to hear, turned to stare at her in undisguised annoyance. When Ephan had finished, this man eyed the Hierarch, pointedly clearing his throat.
“Yes, Kryp. Do you wish to say something?”
Gesturing with a heavy arm, General Kryp indicated Sullyan and Robin. He spoke deferentially, but his stiff tone suggested censure. His wheezy voice grated on Sullyan’s nerves. “Majesty, might I enquire as to why there are two Albians present at an Andaryan war council?”
The Hierarch smiled coldly. “You may, Kryp.” He beckoned, inviting Sullyan to approach the table. She stood, placing a restraining hand on Robin’s shoulder when he would have risen also. Alone, she moved to the opposite end of the oval table and stood facing Pharikian. All four war leaders turned to stare at her. Lord General Anjer showed open but impassive curiosity. Ephan looked resigned. Both Kryp and Vanyr wore expressions of unveiled hostility. Sullyan ignored them all.
“Gentlemen,” announced the Hierarch, “may I present Major Brynne Sullyan, Master-elite, Ambassador and King’s Envoy to Elias Rovannon, High King of Albia.”
Kryp’s eyes narrowed and Sullyan would have given much to know which of her titles concerned him the most. Ephan, who already knew something of her reputation, looked speculative. Vanyr’s hostility hadn’t changed. Anjer’s expression was wary and he leaned forward, cocking his head at Pharikian. “Did you say ‘Sullyan’, Majesty?”
The elderly ruler met his General’s gaze. “That’s right, Anjer.”
“I see.” Anjer turned to face Sullyan and inclined his head. “Major Sullyan.”
She had to give him credit. There was only the mildest hint of condescension in his tone. She responded by according him a very respectful Andaryan-style salute, and he raised his brows. After the briefest of hesitations, he returned it.
“Might I ask why you are here, Major?”
She answered calmly and clearly. “Because, my Lord General, I carry vital information concerning the Duke of Kymer’s forces and battle plans.”
She stood easily, her hands clasped behind her back as if she was facing General Blaine, not four hostile and powerful alien lords. She hoped they would at least respect her courage.
Anjer’s smile was disdainful, and his black brows rose higher. “And how, pray, did you come by this ‘vital’ information?”
Sullyan kept her tone neutral. “I had it from the Duke’s own lips, my Lord.”
There was an angry stir and mutters of disbelief. Anjer’s smile and tone turned patronizing. “Are we supposed to accept that the Duke of Kymer took you into his confidence before sending you here to conveniently tell us of his plans?” He snorted and turned to Pharikian. “Come now, Majesty. I can understand your desire to accept her given your old friendship with Morgan, but really! What is this?”
The Hierarch faced him down. “I think it would behoove us to listen to what the Major has to say, Anjer.”
He put a slight emphasis on her rank, and this provoked a loud and irritated snort from Kryp, who gestured in her direction. “Major? Don’t make me laugh! Look at her, Majesty. She’s no more than a child. Don’t they have enough men in Albia that they have to let women run around playing soldier? Have they all been emasculated?” He stared at Sullyan, his pale eyes roving insultingly over her slender body. His voice dripped contempt. “What can you possibly know of military matters, girl?”
Slowly and deliberately, Sullyan turned her gaze on him. Her eyes were hard and clear, showing no fear.
“You may consider me no more than a girl, General Kryp, but let m
e tell you that I have spent thirteen years in the active service of my King—most of it in the field. I went through the same rigorous training process as any other cadet, only being accepted by the King once I had passed the tests and proved my abilities. I won my own command at the age of eighteen and have held it ever since, spending five years as a Captain and three as a Major. The men of my command are disciplined, ordered, and successful, as these battle honors above my heart bear witness. They were presented personally by the High King, and I wear them proudly. Ask Elias Rovannon whether I merit my rank! Any one of you is welcome to check my credentials. I carry a copy of my orders signed by his hand, as well as my appointment to the post of King’s Envoy.
“I am an Artesan of Master-elite rank, and these skills have also been proven in King Elias’ service. I hereby lay them at his Majesty’s disposal. Test them if you will. If that is not sufficient, gentlemen, and you require more of me, then I am more than willing to prove my skills with a sword against any you care to name. Even you, General Kryp. I wonder—when was the last time you used your sword in the field?”
This last acerbic comment brought the General surging to his feet. He spluttered with outrage, his face flushing. The Hierarch removed the hand he had been using to cover a small smile and rapped it sharply on the table to get Kryp’s attention. Sullyan neither moved nor dropped her eyes, showing not the slightest sign of backing down in the face of Kryp’s anger.
“General!” snapped Pharikian. Kryp struggled to bring himself under control. Vanyr’s face was thunderous and Ephan rolled his eyes, but Lord General Anjer leaned back in his seat with his arms crossed over his massive chest. He regarded Sullyan with what might have been respect awakening behind his jet black eyes.
Once Kryp, still muttering, had resumed his seat, the Hierarch glanced at Sullyan. “Major, I am sure General Kryp meant no offence. I believe you owe him an apology.”
She meekly bowed her head. “General Kryp, if you perceived my comment as a slur on your abilities, then I apologize unreservedly. It was not intended as such. I am sure you set the men of your command a splendid example.”
The Hierarch again used his hand to cover a smile, and Sullyan thought she saw Anjer’s mouth twitch under his black mustache. The furious Kryp wasn’t pacified by her barbed apology, but had no opportunity to respond.
The Hierarch continued. “It may interest you to know, gentlemen, that I have already done as the Major suggested. Not only have I seen the documents she spoke of, but I have also conferred by messenger with her King. As you know, I have always had the greatest respect for Elias of Albia, and he has confirmed everything the Major told us. Major Sullyan, you should know that I also contacted your General Blaine. He spoke glowingly of your capabilities and bade me make full use of your unique talents.”
“I thank you, Majesty.” A faint flush stained her cheeks. This was unaccustomed praise from General Blaine.
Ephan stirred in his seat, adding, almost reluctantly, “I too have heard reports of the Major’s prowess, Kryp. Unlikely though it sounds, I believe she has told us no less than the truth.”
Sullyan was amazed that Ephan should support her and turned an evaluating look on him. Kryp remained unconvinced and brushed their comments aside.
“That’s all very well, Majesty. She may have some standing among the Albians. We all know how weak their warriors are. But it doesn’t answer the question of how she has come by information concerning so powerful and ambitious a man as Rykan of Kymer. Why would he tell her his battle plans and then allow her to inform you of them?” His eyes narrowed and he shot her a venomous glance. “Unless it’s a trap, of course.”
Robin’s angry gasp was clearly audible, as was the harsh scrape of his chair as he rose. “A trap? You think she’d work for Rykan? After all she’s been through? After all his—”
“Robin!”
Sullyan’s reprimand came out sharper than she intended but she had to stop Robin revealing too much. The anguished glance he shot her and the sudden pallor of his face showed he realized how near he had come. Slowly, he resumed his seat, color flooding back to his cheeks.
The Hierarch ignored Robin’s outburst as if it hadn’t happened. “There’s no need for accusations, Kryp. I’m sure the Major can satisfy your doubts.”
He gave her a look of regret for his inability to help her further. Sullyan accepted his tacit apology and turned to face Kryp.
“It is no trap, General Kryp. My information is correct, and imparting it to you will seriously damage the Duke. I learned it in the cells of his palace, where he held me confined. It was not his intention that I should survive.”
Ephan sucked his teeth and Anjer’s brows shot down over his eyes. Vanyr didn’t react, although his arch expression suggested disbelief. It was left to Kryp to ask, “And why was he holding you captive, Major?”
Judging by the way they watched her, both Robin and Pharikian wondered what she would tell them. She took a deep breath. “General, he intended me to be an integral part of his plan to topple Andaryon’s ruling House.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He tried to force me to yield my powers, General, in order to augment his own. If he had succeeded, he would have been strong enough to overpower his Majesty, leaving him no choice but to abdicate. Fortunately for me—and for you—I was rescued before it could happen. But not before his arrogance and confidence, and my weakened state, led him to boast of his plans in my hearing. This, gentlemen, is the reason why he has waited so long before bringing his troops to bear. He was cheated of his primary weapon—my powers—and was forced to rethink his strategy.”
This caused a buzz of concerned conversation. Wondering if she would get away with her gloss over the whole truth, Sullyan was waiting for someone to ask the obvious; namely, how had Rykan tried to force her to yield. Instead, Vanyr spoke up.
“Would the ... Major ... then care to explain why she has brought this news to us? As the Duke didn’t succeed in taking her powers, he can’t challenge the Hierarch’s Artesan skills. And as General Ephan has already pointed out, neither can he field sufficient trained numbers to trouble the Caer. The forces he can raise from Kymer are not nearly enough to defeat us. So why bother his Majesty with such trivial matters? Have you come to complain of the Duke’s behavior, girl? To demand redress? If so, you’ll be disappointed. Why should we care if Rykan takes Albian captives? It’s hardly a crime, and it wouldn’t be the first time.”
Vanyr’s discourtesy and vicious tone caused the Hierarch to frown in displeasure. Sullyan had been expecting something of the sort from either Vanyr or Kryp, and the Commander’s scornful comments at least diverted attention from what she would rather keep hidden.
“Commander, I have ‘bothered’ his Majesty because if Rykan does succeed in his challenge, either now or sometime in the future, he intends to rescind the Pact and resume full-scale raiding into Albia. That is very much my concern, as I think you would all agree.”
Anjer nodded once. Ephan then raised his voice, having gained Pharikian’s attention.
“Majesty, interesting as this is, I don’t see how it affects our traditional response to a force the size of Rykan’s. Commander Vanyr is correct. The Duke cannot match our numbers, and sitting tight is still our best option. Let him spend his men on the Citadel walls. His best force of five or six thousand would never break us in siege.”
Planting her hands very deliberately on the table, Sullyan leaned forward. Her menacing stance surprised Ephan and made him turn his head.
“Maybe not, General. But a force of fifteen thousand might.”
There was a slight pause before the room erupted. Ephan, Kryp, and Vanyr all rose their feet, shouting. Kryp’s face was an angry shade of red, Vanyr’s pale with fury. His voice was sharp with disdain. Anjer sat in silence, arms still folded on his massive chest, eyes flicking alternately from Sullyan’s calm expression to the Hierarch’s. He clearly deserved his post at the head of his ruler’s
forces, thought Sullyan, a shrewd man who considered his options, not scorning any information which might help him protect the Caer.
The Hierarch raised his hand for silence, but it was a few moments before they noticed. Subsiding angrily, they resumed their seats. Pharikian turned to Sullyan.
“Major, are you certain of your facts?”
“Completely, Majesty.”
Before she could continue, Kryp interrupted. “It’s ridiculous, there’s no possible way Rykan could field so many men! This must be some kind of trick. And if it’s not, if she’s right, where have the extra numbers come from?”
Once again, the Hierarch deferred to Sullyan, and she saw Anjer take note.
“From the boasts he made, it would seem that the Duke has been covertly annexing land for the past few years. Two minor nobles were relieved of their holdings on the pretext of bad management. I do not know their names, but they are almost certainly dead. Three other lords lost their provinces. Two were infirm and unable to defend against the Duke. They have either been bribed or coerced to join his cause. The third he murdered. My estimation of his strength is probably conservative. In all, he may be able to field more than fifteen thousand.” She glanced at Anjer. “My Lord General, what is the sum of the forces loyal to his Majesty?”
Anjer considered this and glanced briefly at Pharikian before replying.
“The Caer retains eight thousand fighting men, Major. If we were to call in all our available reserves, we could match your estimation of Rykan’s numbers.”
She held his gaze. “Then given your previous expectation of Rykan’s strength, my Lord, how quickly could those reserve troops arrive? How many lords keep such numbers ready to march?”
Anjer’s eyes narrowed and she didn’t press him. Instead, she swept her eyes around the table.
“So, gentlemen, the last thing you want is to allow a superior force to pin you inside the Caer. That would give Rykan control, and that would spell your defeat. He will not risk coming under attack from your reserves, and neither does he intend to starve you out under a protracted siege.”