Storm and Steel (15 page)

He handed the pouch back. “Here, keep the money. I'm staying for now. With these new recruits, things are going to get easier. I'm sure of it.”

Seng tucked the money into his sand-colored tunic. “As you say, brother. Shall we investigate this hamlet?”

“Nah. I'm for heading back. I want a better look at those mercs.”

“As you say, brother.”

Leaning on the rail of the royal pleasure barge, Horace stared across the river. Gentle breezes created ripples across its silty brown waters. Long-legged ibises strutted along the shore hunting for fish. Dragonflies as long as his hand flittered above the forest of reeds and water blossoms.

The river's power brushed against the bottom of the boat, sluggish yet powerful. That quiet strength reminded him of the dream he'd been dreaming just before the attack. He'd been flying above the earth in the midst of a chaos storm, immune to the mundane problems of the people below. He couldn't get it out of his head.

Yet now he was back in his own body, surrounded by his troubles. The last two days had passed slowly as they traveled along the river. Not that the barge was a poor mode of travel. On the contrary, it was a grand vessel. Almost two hundred feet long with graceful lines, it was propelled through the river by forty oarsmen in the ship's waist. All slaves, unfortunately, but Horace tried not to think about that. Some other time, he might have enjoyed this trip, with the smells and the sounds of water all around him. Yet the attack had left him feeling edgy and tense, as if an invisible noose were slowly tightening around his neck. Lord Mulcibar, before his disappearance, had told him that Akeshian politics were a cutthroat business. Horace only wished the old man was still here to advise him.
Lord knows I could use some advice these days.

The queen's command that he crush the slave rebellion was paramount in his thoughts. He didn't know if he could do it, not the way she wanted. He needed to find a way to make her see they were people. Better yet, he wished he could convince her to free them all. That was the crux of her problem, but she would never accept it. Nor would the nobles or the merchants or the owners of the vast farms outside Erugash. Their entire way of life relied upon the existence of slaves. How could one man change an entire society? It was impossible. Yet if he couldn't, then he feared he would lose Alyra forever. Just a short while ago, he'd thought they were meant to be together, a second chance at love.

Maybe we're too different to make it work. We want different things, although most of the time I can't understand what she truly wants. For me to leave the court and abandon this new life I've made? Then what? She can't believe the queen, or any of the empire's rulers, would just let me walk away. Without the queen's protection, we'd be swamped under endless waves of assassins. And now, with my powers proving unpredictable, how long before one of those attempts succeeds?

He pressed his temples with the heels of both hands, wishing he could squeeze away his stress.

“By the gods, I'm ready to be off this boat.”

Horace glanced over at Lord Ubar, who had come to join him at the larboard railing. A bandage was wrapped around his forehead. The young nobleman had not had a relaxing voyage, spending most of his time in his bunk belowdecks or leaning over the sides, throwing back up what little food he could get down. His copper skin had taken on a greenish tinge. Though Horace thought the weather was pleasant, Lord Ubar looked like he was freezing, wrapped up in a long cloak with a fur collar.

“It shouldn't be long now,” Horace replied.

“Does the Typhon call to you?”

Horace gazed back down into the murky waters. He considered telling Ubar about his failure to control his
zoana
during the attack on the villa, and how he'd been too afraid to attempt summoning the power ever since.
No, I don't think you want to hear that. Much better to continue to see me as your secret weapon, defender of your queen and city. Better, that is, until I fail at the wrong time and someone pays for it with their life. You're a good man, Ubar, but you don't have the answers I need. And I'm starting to doubt anyone does.

“I don't see anything except water and silt,” he lied.

Ubar nodded toward the rear of the vessel. “I suppose you must be eager to be away from these
siku masaku
, too. Eh?”

“
Siku masu…?
”

“It means a tight place.”

“Ah, close quarters. Yes, I am.”

He looked past the noble to the pavilion set up on the aft deck. Brass poles held aloft a sheet of purple silk to shade Her Majesty and a few others,
sitting in chairs and couches as they sipped chilled wine from golden cups. To Horace, it looked like a scene out of a painting about the decadence of the old world. The queen sat amid her courtiers, laughing and gesturing as if she were having the time of her life instead of running from the latest attempt to end her existence. They had spoken only briefly since leaving the villa. The queen had insulated herself within a cocoon of bodyguards and sycophants—scions from the noble houses of Erugash. He got the feeling she blamed him for the attack and wondered if she was waiting for him to fall on his sword.

Not me, Your Excellence. If you want me dead, you'll have to do it the old-fashioned way. Although I doubt you'd do it yourself. Am I going to wake up some night to find Xantu standing over me? Perhaps I should hire some additional guards for the house.

Looking around, Horace noticed the person absent from the deck. Although he didn't know for sure what was behind the queen's diffidence, it didn't bother him nearly as much as Alyra's behavior. Since the attack, she had gone out of her way to avoid him, too. Without the queen's ability to keep him at bay with a wall of soldiers and
zoanii
, Alyra simply disappeared whenever he tried to speak with her, which was an impressive feat on a ship. After a few tries to find out what was wrong with her, he'd stopped altogether and spent the majority of the voyage alone, eating or reading by himself, and watching the scenery pass by. Like Ubar, he was ready to make landfall, if only to escape the pervasive tension that hung over the barge. “I'm just wondering if it's ever going to end.”

When Ubar patted his stomach and made a face in sympathy, Horace pushed back from the rail. “Not the trip. I mean the assassination attempts. The feeling I get whenever I walk into a dark room that there's someone waiting to kill me. Things were bad before, but it seems worse now. I'm hardly sleeping. I worry that the food has been poisoned.”

“Life is a one continuous race we will never win. We can only persevere to the finish.”

“Another nugget of wisdom from your dead philosopher?”

Ubar smiled and shrugged. “I had excellent tutors.”

“We're all going to die anyway, so why worry about it?”

“Something like that.”

“That's the worst advice I ever heard.”

Ubar glanced at him, and they both started laughing. Horace looked over the youth's shoulder and saw the queen watching them. Then she held out her cup to a slave to refill and looked away.

“No, my biggest problem,” Horace said, “is that I've been placed in charge of quelling the slave rebellion. But I don't know the first thing about it. Even if I did, the queen's council won't listen to anything I say. Well, that's not quite true. They listen….”

“But they find ways to circumvent your intentions?”

“Exactly. None of my commands are followed, but I can never prove who was responsible afterward. I tried telling the queen, but she didn't seem to hear me.”

“You still have much to learn about politics,
Inganaz
.”

Horace grunted, wishing he had a drink. The wound in his side was starting to bother him again, and the afternoon heat was parching his throat. Yet all the servants were aft with the queen, and he didn't want to go back there. “That isn't news to me.”

“The queen will not directly intervene in a conflict between the members of her court. To do so would lessen her esteem in the eyes of the
zoanii
. So those desiring her royal munificence must seek a way that is not obvious. It is a shadow game where one pretends not to care about those things which are the most important, and thus conceal one's true intentions.”

“All I want is to please the queen while not making any new enemies. I've got more than enough already.”

“That is the trick of it.”

Horace rubbed his forehead. “Wait a moment. Ubar, you could be the answer to my prayers.”

“I'm sorry. I don't under—”

“I need someone who can speak the language, as it were. Someone who has the pedigree to get people to stand up and listen.”

“But you are the First Sword.”

“And most of the court wants me gone. I need help, and you're the only person who seems to be talking to me right now.”

“That should be a warning for both of us. However, I am of a mind to help you.”

Horace almost wept with relief. “
Kanadu!
It means a great deal to me. There's a lot of rebel activity in the western part of the realm, but I can't be everywhere at once. So I need you to go to Sekhatun as my official envoy.”

“Sekhatun?” Ubar frowned. “Lord Horace, I'm not sure I would be the most effective choice to represent you there.”

“Why not? That's your home, isn't it? You probably know every important person in the town.”

“That is precisely the problem. I do know everyone in Sekhatun, and they know me quite well also. Since my father's disgrace and loss of title, my family is in poor repute. My mother and sister had to move to Erugash to escape the stain of dishonor. Two of my cousins died by their own hand, unable to face it. The new leaders of Sekhatun would have no reason to treat with me.”

“Yes, they will. Because you'll be carrying a written order from the queen giving you the power to act in her behalf. If the governor gives you any problems, you can have him executed.”

“That is…I'm unsure how to react. What exactly do you want me to do there? I don't have any military experience.”

“That's all right. You possess the most important trait for this mission: my trust. I need someone who is willing to take a…
lighter
touch in regards to this problem.”

“Lighter? In what way?”

“I want you to try to make contact with the rebels.”

“To what end?”

“To de-escalate the situation, for one thing. And also, I'm hoping we can come to some kind of agreement with the slaves.”

Lord Ubar's eyebrows shot up. “An armistice? I was not aware Her Majesty was seeking a peaceful resolution to this matter.”

Horace gave his most sincere smile, feeling horrible that he had to mislead this young man who had quickly become a good friend to him. “The queen wishes this insurrection to end as soon as possible. She and I have every faith you are the right person for this job.”

Ubar looked down, his expression suddenly pensive. “I am happy to serve in whatever manner Her Majesty desires. Perhaps, if it is my destiny, this may allow me to restore the honor of my family's name.”

Horace gritted his teeth, hating himself as he clapped the young man on the shoulder. “I hope so. You're doing me a great service, which I won't forget.”

“Of course. If you will excuse me….”

Looking pale all of a sudden, Ubar rushed to the other side of the deck and leaned over the side. Trying to ignore the sounds of vomiting, Horace resumed his study of the river. He didn't enjoy manipulating people, especially someone like Ubar, but he didn't see that he had much choice if he wanted to survive. Now he could turn his mind to other issues, like finding out who had tried to kill him and the entire royal court.

The barge slowed as it turned out of the main channel. Erugash rose from the shore, shining in the midday sun. Vines clung to the massive limestone blocks of the river wall. Built at the water's edge upon the bones of older versions of the city stretching back hundreds and perhaps thousands of years, the wall stood as a bulwark against both waterborne invasion and the ever-advancing tide of the Typhon. Great domes and arching bridges peeked above the battlements alongside the step-terraced summits of vast palaces.

As the barge neared the docks, servants arrived from below decks, carrying what little remained of the royal baggage after the attack. Alyra arrived with them. Watching her, Horace felt a knot in his throat. He still didn't know what to do about her. Part of him wanted to forget everything that had passed between them and go his separate way, but each time he saw her, his heart ached. He just wished things could be simpler between them.

The queen's retinue assembled on the deck in fine regalia. Byleth had retired inside her shaded pavilion at the rear of the barge with the drapes pulled shut. As the barge bumped gently against the side of the dock, the curtains were pulled back and she emerged, looking magnificent as usual in a gown of white silk. Her hair was done up in a tower wrapped with gold chains and pearls as large as pigeon eggs. Lord Xantu followed a pace behind her.

Disturbing shouts filled the air, and Horace noticed for the first time that
a crowd had gathered around the dock. A cordon of royal guardsmen held the people back as they surged toward the barge.

Lord Ubar came to stand by Horace again. He looked better, as if their imminent landfall had cleared up his seasickness. “I feared this would happen. News of the Chapter House has spread.”