The Children of Archipelago

by B A Simmons

  d’Silva sat down across from him and the asinos began pulling them away from the house. For several minutes they sat in silence. Neither man looked much at the other save to verify the other was not looking at him. Rob pondered hard on the idea of breaking the silence to ask where they were going, but decided he needed to be the silent servant rather than the apprehensive apprentice.

  d’Silva spoke, in perfect Engle. “You have a keen mind, Roberto. Whatever your upbringing, it was more than that of a simple farmer. I know you understand more than you let on about my household, my family and my people. Rather than punish you for your awareness, I’ve decided to reward it.”

  Rob remained silent, listening with marked intent to d’Silva’s words.

  “We are headed to the imperial palace for court. There is an important matter to be discussed there and I want your observations. You will attend as my personal servant and you must continue to pretend you don’t understand much Iyty. Do you understand?”

  “Sì, signore.”

  d’Silva smiled and looked out the carriage window. They passed the remainder of the journey in silence with Rob’s mind reeling. He glanced out the windows from time to time noting the sights of people walking the streets of Porto Profundo. After some time (asinos’ pace being rather slow) the close-set buildings of the city disappeared and large empty lots took their place along the road. Trees and shrubs replaced the lots and soon Rob smelled fresh country air.

  The carriage stopped for a moment and heavily armored guards bearing the coat-of-arms of the Falcone family peered into the carriage. They exchanged words with d’Silva, asking who Rob was. When given an acceptable answer, they drew back and allowed the carriage through the gates into a vast estate. The driveway meandered through an immense garden which put Rob’s efforts for d’Silva to shame. At its end, the driveway pulled up to an enormous house, as large as the baronial palace on Aruth. As the carriage came to a stop outside the front doors, d’Silva leaned toward Rob.

  “This is the home of the emperor, Octavo Antonio de Falcone, last of his line. We are holding these meetings here due to the trouble in Porto Profundo. Remain silent unless I direct you to speak. You exit the carriage before me to hold the door. Once inside, carry my coat and walk one yard behind me on my left. Do not get distracted by what you see but watch and listen carefully to everything.”

  Rob nodded and gulped down the lump rising in his throat. He followed the instructions given him, wondering the entire time if he was messing them up. They entered the house and followed a gaily clad butler through the main hall to a large well-lit room. No one seemed to question Rob’s presence or demeanor. He remained at d’Silva’s seven o’clock position with a stone face and straight back.

  “Federico!” exclaimed a woman standing near a long table. d’Silva bowed to her, but she drew him into an embrace before planting a kiss on his cheek. From the brief conversation they held, Rob discerned that this woman’s name was Maria Falcone. As Rob had learned from his conferences with Liliana and her conspirators, she was the younger sister of the emperor and his primary caregiver. The servants in the house all obeyed whatever command she gave, most of which were given through gestures rather than voice.

  After Maria, several other men embraced, shook arms with or otherwise acknowledged d’Silva’s presence. A few of them, arriving after him, were his to greet rather than being greeted by them. This included the youngest of the men (not including servants) who Rob figured was not much older than thirty years old. When he arrived, Rob noted, several of the others gathered there were quite happy; cheerfully greeting him with exclamation and admiration. For his part, d’Silva, Maria and a few others taking their places at the table, refused to acknowledge him.

  Rob was quick to pick up that this was the emperor’s nephew, Cesare Aquila, eldest son of the emperor’s sister, Bernardetta. He served as the empire’s war minister and, according to Liliana and Patrizia, was the reason for the invasions of Alimia and Longbeard Isles. His popularity among the nobles gathered there was clear as was the contempt held for him by others.

  Just as d’Silva approached the table to sit, an older man approached to greet him. Unlike everyone else there, this man spoke in Engle.

  “Federico, you are looking well. How are Gloria and the children?”

  “Nicolò, good to see you too. They’re well, all well.”

  “I see you have new manservant with you. Is he from the empire or newly acquired from the war?” Without waiting for a response, the man approached Rob with an extended hand. “I’m Nicholas Pavana, how do you do?”

  Rob looked at d’Silva who nodded back. “I’m Rob, nice to meet you.”

  Pavana looked ready to question Rob when a loud voice sounded across the room. One of the noblemen they’d met first stood at the head of the long table and announced that their council meeting was about to begin. Pavana looked disappointed but took his seat next to d’Silva. Rob remained behind d’Silva until he noticed that all other servants took positions along the wall behind their respective masters.

  Taking a few steps back, he took account of the faces coming to the table. Cesare Aquila sat almost opposite d’Silva with several of those favoring him vying for the seats closest to him. Once all were seated, Rob noticed there was yet one empty chair at the opposite end of the man conducting the meeting. This man, Ulisse Rinaldi, bore a chain of office indicating him as Prime Minister for the empire. Rob knew this was largely a ceremonial and procedural title, given to one not of royal heritage as a way to appease the people.

  Yet as Prime Minister, Rinaldi led the council meetings and had a vote. Now he greeted those assembled and called them to the order of the day. He motioned toward a group of guards, the only men in the room with weapons, and they moved for the first time since Rob entered. A set of doors toward the back of the room opened and Marcel Aquila, former ambassador to Copper Isle was led in. He took the seat at the end of the table, but as Rob heart again began bursting through his chest, he also noted that Marcel had not noticed him. In fact, he looked scared and timid among his betters in the room.

  Rob remembered the mandate d’Silva gave him. He listened to what was said, only on occasion was he unfamiliar with a word or phrase and context wouldn’t allow him to determine the meaning.

  Marcel, for his part, said little. Every so often a question was directed at him and his answers were always sì or no. The discussion among the members of the council wasn’t whether Marcel was or wasn’t guilty of treason; for this was a verdict already decided by the council previous to this meeting. The discussion focused on deciding the appropriate punishment. Marcel was a second cousin to Cesare Aquila. While the family was among the nobility, his was not a royal heritage. He bore no direct claim and therefore, given his crime of colluding with the enemy, he could be made an example and executed.

  The council members each voiced their opinions, d’Silva was among the last. When he spoke, he commanded the room. Even Cesare could not ignore his words, though Rob thought he did his best to look uninterested. It was to everyone’s surprise that d’Silva advocated for exile from the empire rather than execution.

  The last to speak was Cesare himself. As he rose and cleared his throat, he looked around at each of those at the table, his eyes lingering on d’Silva before resting on Marcel. Marcel kept his eyes down. Cesare’s voice was higher in pitch than Rob guessed it would be, but this made his words sound sharp, almost painful to hear. He spoke in short bursts, emphasizing specific words. The point of his speech he made clear as he pointed a finger at Marcel and declared that his crimes were worthy of a death penalty. He mocked his cousin for having used a weak defense, saying he’d been duped by the pirates. He cursed the former ambassador and the drug to which he was a slave. When he declared the drug and the merchants who sold it in the empire enemies of the state, a cheer erupted from the table.

  Yet in the end, Cesare softened his tone, both literally and in his judgement. He declared they should exer
cise mercy and after stripping Marcel of all titles and property, banish him from the empire.

  The council gave a unanimous vote for exile. Marcel did not lift his head until the meeting was adjourned. Rob saw d’Silva beckon for his coat as he stood. When Rob held it up for him to put it on, he watched Marcel from the corner of his eye. The man who had sent thugs to kill or capture Rob in the streets of Port Edward, leaned forward and squinted his eyes in Rob’s direction.

  Whether or not he was recognized, Rob did not know; for in the next moment, the guards led Marcel out of the room. Rob took up his position behind d’Silva and waited until his master had finished shaking arms and bidding his farewells to those he knew. On their way through the hall, Maria Falcone again approached her cousin, d’Silva. As they talked, Rob’s eye caught sight of a woman looking at him. Her expression was that of fright or perhaps, surprise. She was dressed in servant’s clothes and held a tray upon which dirty goblets and glassware was stacked. Yet, she stared at Rob for several seconds before another servant pulled her from her daze.

  “Roberto!” d’Silva said. The volume and tone of his voice made Rob realize that he’d allowed himself to become distracted.

  “Sì, Signore!” Rob said.

  “Vieni con me.”

  d’Silva followed Maria up a set of stairs to the second floor of the house. Rob followed and gave himself silent curses while pondering upon the expression of the woman. After passing through another corridor, they entered another room with armed guards standing by its door. Here, in a dimly lit bedroom, a man slept in an awkward position upon a sofa. Next to him stood a table with several medical instruments, bottles and boxes. Across the room was a large bed with curtains hanging to block all light from disturbing its occupant. Yet these curtains were what Maria drew back, eliciting a brief groan from inside.

  “Lorenzo, Federico è qui per vederti,” she said.

  d’Silva bowed deep toward the floor. Rob followed suit so as not to offend anyone.

  “Federico, vieni, vieni,” croaked a voice from the bed.

  Rob remained stationary as d’Silva approached the bed and knelt by its side. He exchanged words in hushed tones with what appeared to be a grey-haired and bearded man on the bed. Their words were impossible to make out, but it was easy for Rob to understand the expression on his master’s face. d’Silva looked ready to shed tears and his tone demonstrated compassion, even hope for the man with whom he conversed.

  In that moment, Rob realized who the bedridden man was. While Maria had called him Lorenzo, he was more commonly known as Octavo Antonio the Ninth, Emperor of the Falcon Empire. He had only moments to register this fact before Maria approached and ushered him back into the hallway. Despite the trust d’Silva displayed in Rob, Maria did not want him to overhear their discussion.

  Rob stood next to the guards for a moment before the awkwardness of their proximity urged him to move farther down the corridor. Near the stairs, he heard a sound. He turned to see the woman from before in an antechamber beckoning to him.

  Rob moved to the doorway but hesitated to enter. The woman also stepped closer, her eyes not leaving Rob’s face. Her arm shot out, taking hold of his and pulling him into the room. Rob almost shouted a protest but held back for fear that the guards down the hall would be less than understanding.

  “Tom? Tom, is that you? This can’t be real?” she said.

  “Who are you?” Rob replied.

  “You’re not Tom, but you look like him. I thought… for a moment…”

  Rob stepped back from her, an idea forming in his mind. “You don’t… you don’t mean Tom Engleman, do you?”

  The woman’s eyes went wide. “Yes, are you?”

  “I’m Rob Engleman, Mark and Sarah’s son. Are you Meriam Miller?”

  “Yes,” she said. Tears streamed down her face. “Tell me, do you know, how is my sister Jane? How are her boys?”

  “Last I saw they were all well,” Rob said. He could not bring himself to tell her about Tom.

  “Oh, I am glad to hear that. I had heard rumors that the empire had sent soldiers to Engle Isle. I worried that perhaps they were taken as I was,” Meriam said.

  “Were these recent rumors or something before the last five months?”

  “It was six weeks ago. The mistress’s butler overheard them talking about the war. They said something of an invasion of the island called Engleman. I figured that had to be Engle Isle.”

  Rob’s heart sank. If true, this rumor told him his failure was complete. The Falcon’s had invaded his home and the weapons he meant to take them were at the bottom of the sea with the Entdecker. He hoped the plan to defend the island was successful.

  “Meriam, I must ask you never to reveal that you know me. They mustn’t know that I’m from Engle Isle. I promise, if it’s possible, I will free you from this place.”

  Meriam shook her head. “No. Don’t worry about that Rob.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m happy here. My mind is clear for the first time in years. They told me that Sheriff Tyler had been poisoning our water. When they came to Alimia, we were all miserably wretched and we didn’t even know it. I’m better here than I ever was there.”

  Rob stepped back and nodded. Down the hall he heard d’Silva call for him.

  “If I see Aunt Jane again, I will tell her that you are well. Please, keep my secret.”

  Rob reentered the hall and endured the scowl of his master.

  “Perdonami, Signore, ero distratto. Ci sono arazzi così fantastici.”

  d’Silva’s scowl transformed into a smirk. “Andiamo.”

  Outside the house, night had fallen and Rob found himself again searching the sky for the Ayday star. He wasn’t given time to locate it before d’Silva demanded they leave. In the carriage once again, d’Silva waited until they were on the road back to Porto Profundo before speaking.

  “What did you learn in that meeting, Roberto?”

  “That there are divisions among the nobility of the empire and that you are the de facto leader of one of these divisions. At least, others look to you for leadership.”

  d’Silva nodded. “And the other leader?”

  “Cesare Aquila. He’s charismatic and… intelligent. At least he knew how to counter you. He agreed with your proposal to banish Mar… er, the man accused of treason. Yet Cesare made it seem like it was his idea to be merciful.”

  “This is why he is so dangerous. He has convinced people to believe him though his ideas bring ruin and chaos to our empire. If we are not more careful, he will be the next emperor and I fear our empire will fall. This is why I brought you here, Roberto.”

  d’Silva leaned in and beckoned for Rob to do the same.

  “Cesare and his followers are dangerous. You are going to help me by making sure my daughter and her friends do not make a bad situation worse,” d’Silva said.

  “Signore?”

  “You know what I speak of. Liliana has, for some reason, decided to draw you into her conspiracies. Whatever her exact plans are, you are to ensure that she comes to no harm. Do you understand me?”

  “Sì, signore.”

  “You will report to me regularly to keep me informed. If you fail me, you will find yourself a coscritto cooking meals for the soldiers on Longbeard Isle or worse, digging sulfur in the mines of Kymberlite Isle.”

  Rob understood his charge. He stared hard at d’Silva who leaned back and again took to looking at the scenery they passed. In the street in front of the university, a group of students stood, dressed in soldier’s tunics covered in blood. They chanted “Smetti di uccidere! Poni fine alla guerra!” and shook their fists in the air. Nearby, a group of home guards stood watching. Whether they were there to protect or to assault the protesters remained to be seen. Rob and d’Silva both noticed Ludo’s familiar face among the young soldiers.

  A rock was thrown at the soldiers, though who threw it was unclear. It was the spark to the powder keg. Ludo and the soldiers form
ed up into a shield wall and began advancing on the students. Several of the blood-stained demonstrators fled, but the majority remained and steeled themselves for the harsh embrace of their countrymen.

  d’Silva shouted at the coachman to stop the carriage and he rushed out. Rob followed, intent to help the man despite the threat he’d just received from him. d’Silva placed himself between the two groups just as more stones were cast at both. Rob looked past everyone else to see a group of youngsters, no older than twelve doing the throwing. An adult stood with them, handing them the rocks and pointing at the soldiers and protesters.

  As d’Silva held up his hands to ward off both groups and shouted orders for soldiers to stand down, Rob jogged behind them and ran at the agitator dolling out the projectiles. The man saw Rob coming and fled into an alley way. One of the boys threw a stone at Rob, who ducked to avoid it, then the boys scattered as well.

  Rob turned to see the d’Silva talking with Ludo. The younger man pointed at the protestors and argued with his father. d’Silva turned to the students and called on them to disperse before more violence commenced. The lead student shook his head in defiance.

  d’Silva turned back to his son and pleaded for him to exercise judgement. Ludo ordered the soldiers to return to their position in watch over the protestors and it seemed that was the best outcome for the situation at the moment. Rob ran to his master’s side and saw the fiery scowl given him by Ludo.

  When both groups had returned to their original activities, d’Silva returned to the carriage with Rob protecting his flank.

  “Grazie…” d’Silva said after the carriage pulled away from the scene.

  Rob did not give a verbal reply but studied the older man’s face as he continued to look out the window. He realized that d’Silva was not studying the scenery, rather he was watching his world fall apart while puzzling about how to stop it.

  20

  If You Can Meet with Triumph and Disaster...