“—so I’m afraid Father Ahbsahlahn’s hints are becoming rather more pointed,” Sir Zhorj Laikhyrst, Baron of Yellowstone, said now as he wrapped up his initial report. “He hasn’t presented any formal communiqués about it yet, but I don’t think it will be much longer before he does. And I’m certain he’s going to make Mother Church’s view abundantly clear and explicit the moment the prisoners arrive in Gorath.”
Yellowstone was almost seventy years old with thinning silver hair, faded blue eyes, and a weedy neck. He’d sat on the Royal Council longer than any of its other members, and he functioned effectively as the kingdom’s foreign secretary. He was also quite a bit more intelligent than his unprepossessing physical appearance might lead the unwary to conclude, and his anxiety was obvious.
“Then we ought to go ahead and give him an answer now, before we do receive any ‘formal communiqués,’” Aibram Zaivyair, the Duke of Thorast, replied sharply. Technically, Thorast was Thirsk’s political master, although fortunately for Thirsk, Samyl Cahkrayn, the Duke of Fern and King Rahnyld’s first councilor, had effectively stripped him of day-to-day oversight of the Navy. Now Thorast glared at Thirsk. “There’s no question whose authority is paramount in this case. Why are we even discussing it?”
“Aibram has a point,” Shain Hauwyl, the Duke of Salthar and commander of the Royal Dohlaran Army, put in with a scowl. Salthar was considerably more intelligent than Thorast, but he was also a fervent son of the Church and, despite the serious defeat the Army had suffered, one of the Jihad’s strongest supporters. “Even if Mother Church’s authority didn’t override anyone else’s, what conceivable reason could we have for even considering refusing her demands at a time like this?”
“Actually,” Fern said, leaning back in his chair at the head of the table beside the empty throne where King Rahnyld should have been sitting, “as Sir Zhorj’s just finished telling us, we haven’t had any demands from Mother Church on this matter. Not yet. That’s rather the reason for this meeting, Shain.”
“Does that really matter if Kharmych’s dropping all those hints?” Salthar retorted. “Since he happens to be the Kingdom’s Intendant, I imagine we can consider them a fairly clear indicator of the direction of Mother Church’s thinking, don’t you?”
“Of course we can.” The First Councilor’s tone was astrigent. “The question before us is how we want to approach the problem. After all,” his eyes swept the other faces around the table, and there was something guarded in their depths, “there are certain other … pragmatic considerations involved.”
The sounds from the pigeon coop seemed much louder suddenly in the profound silence his words produced, and Thirsk inhaled deeply. He hadn’t expected Fern to allude even indirectly to those “pragmatic considerations,” and he suddenly found himself wondering if he might not have been wrong when he’d assumed he’d been summoned to this meeting simply to hear the Council’s decision.
He let his gaze drift to his left for a moment. The man seated beside him had far better family connections than Thirsk, despite the fact that he held no title beyond a simple knighthood, but the earl had wondered about his presence, as well. Sir Rainos Ahlverez had faced the very real possibility of being handed over to the Inquisition after the previous winter’s disastrous Shiloh Campaign. Personally, Thirsk had assumed that Ahlverez’ close relationship with Thorast explained his survival, but the earl had seen very few smiles directed at him by the duke since this meeting began.
“What sort of ‘pragmatic concerns’ would that be?” Salthar asked now, eyes narrowing at Fern across the table.
“The pragmatic concern that the heretics currently hold far more of our men prisoner than we hold of theirs, for one,” the first councilor replied flatly, with a candor which astonished Thirsk. It obviously took Salthar aback, as well, and the Army’s commander sat back in his chair with arched eyebrows.
“I would never advise against meeting Mother Church’s legitimate demands,” Fern continued. “However, we owe it to the Crown, as well as to Mother Church, to look realistically and honestly at our own position and what may be best for the prosecution of the Jihad. For us to stand at Mother Church’s side in this fight, we first have to survive, Shain. We need to fight as effectively as we can, we need the best strategies and tactics, and the best weapons we can give our soldiers and sailors, but we also need to survive. And at the moment General Rychtyr is at Fyrnach, barely a hundred and twenty miles from our frontier.”
He looked away from Salthar long enough to give the naval minister a very level look indeed, since the hundred and twenty miles in question was actually the distance to the eastern border of the Duchy of Thorast. Then he turned his gaze back to Salthar.
“I shouldn’t have to point that out to you, Shain, given that just day before yesterday you and I discussed that very point. I’ve been very impressed with General Rychtyr’s determination, but it’s clear the canals and highways out of Cliff Peak and into Westmarch have been thoroughly demolished after the Army of Glacierheart’s … defeat. That means the heretics have somewhere in the neighborhood of half a million men within nine hundred miles of our frontier, with no means of moving them rapidly north, and winter’s coming on in the next few months. You may have observed the previous winter that campaigning is far easier closer to the equator, and the heretics have secure communications which would allow them to pull as many of those half-million men as they want back from Westmarch and ship them by water to Thesmar. And from there, it would be absurdly simple for them to add their weight to the heretic Hanth’s Army of Thesmar.”
He paused, and the stillness in the chamber was intense.
“In addition to that consideration,” he continued after a moment, “there are the thousands of our soldiers already in heretic hands. At the moment, those prisoners appear to be receiving relatively humane treatment. How long that will continue may well depend upon some of those other ‘pragmatic concerns.’ Of course, the heretics hold even more of the Desnairians’ men than they do of ours, but that’s probably becoming rather less of a ‘pragmatic concern’ to Emperor Mahrys at the moment, isn’t it?”
He showed his teeth in a thin, humorless smile. There was no need for him to be any more explicit, Thirsk thought. After the devastating bombardments of Geyra, Malyktyn, and Desnair the City, the Desnairian Empire was in a state of virtual military collapse. The Desnairians’ total—and understandable—focus on self-defense had taken them completely out of the field and seemed likely to keep them there indefinitely. In fact, Thirsk strongly suspected that Emperor Mahrys and his advisors intended to stay out of the field for as long as they possibly could. It would probably be an exaggeration to say Mahrys was grateful for the damage his capital—both of his capitals—had suffered, but he definitely was grateful for the excuse it gave him to avoid any fresh adventures in Siddarmark.
I wonder if Fern’s suggesting Dohlar might go the same way? the earl thought suddenly. Surely not! For one thing, we’re in a lot better shape than Desnair was even before the Charisians blew the piss out of their capitals. And for another, we’re a hell of a lot closer to Zion than Geyra is.…
“My point,” Fern continued, “is that our paramount responsibility to Mother Church is to adopt policies which permit us to continue as her champion in the Jihad. That means, among other things, advising the Council of Vicars of those considerations which will have a direct effect upon our ability to do that. Admiral Rohsail’s victory in the Kaudzhu Narrows has enormously enheartened the entire Kingdom.” He nodded across the table to Thirsk. “The prisoners taken in that battle are presently on their way to Gorath and will be arriving within the next five-day. While no loyal son of Mother Church could question her legitimate right and responsibility to deal with those taken in impious and heretical rebellion against her, it would not be inappropriate for us to advise the vicarate about how best—and most effectively—the treatment of those prisoners might enhance rather than weaken our own Kingdom’s ability to s
upport and sustain the Jihad.”
“What are you suggesting?” Salthar asked.
“Before I answer that question, I’d like to ask Sir Rainos to speak to the fashion in which the men and officers of the Army of Shiloh responded to the heretics’ announced policy where their prisoners were concerned,” Fern replied. “I submit that we need to consider both the positive and the negative consequences of delivering the captured Charisians to the Punishment they undoubtedly deserve. It’s not a matter of refusing to surrender them to the Inquisition, of course. If that should be Mother Church’s decree, then as her loyal sons we would obviously have no option or desire to resist it. If, however, there’s the possibility of a decision—even a temporary one—which seems likely to us to yield a greater short-term, purely tactical advantage, then I believe it’s obviously our responsibility to respectfully share our analysis with Father Ahbsahlahn and Bishop Executor Wylsynn.”
He paused, clearly inviting a response, but no one spoke. He waited another handful of heartbeats, then returned his attention to Ahlverez.
“Could you give us your impression of how the Army of Shiloh’s rank and file responded to the heretics’ announced policy where prisoners of war are concerned, Sir Rainos?”
* * *
“Do you really think they’re going to argue with Clyntahn?” Sharleyan Ahrmahk asked.
She sat in a private council chamber with Earl Pine Hollow, Baron Rock Point, Maikel Staynair, and Ehdwyrd Howsmyn. She and the archbishop had returned to Tellesberg only three days ago, and news of the Kaudzhu Narrows catastrophe had arrived—overland by semaphore to Windmoor Province, then across the Tarot Channel to Tranjyr, across the Tranjyr Channel to Margaret’s Land, and on to Tellesberg—four hours before she had. Nothing could have prevented her Old Charisian subjects from greeting her, their beloved archbishop, and the heir to the throne with enthusiasm, yet the battle—and especially the loss of both Thunderer and Dreadnought—had cast an undeniable pall over her return.
Which was fair enough, she thought, given the pall it had cast over the entire inner circle well before anyone else in Tellesberg had heard a word about it. Now she gazed at her husband’s image, projected onto her contact lenses, and her own expression was anxious as she thought about the prisoners headed along the long line of canals towards Gorath. Or perhaps “anxious” wasn’t precisely the right word. Perhaps the word she wanted was “anguished.”
“Argue with Clyntahn?” Cayleb shook his head, his own expression somber. “No, they’re not going to do that. But I think it’s possible they really will suggest an … alternative disposition of their prisoners.”
“Salthar and Thorast sure as hell aren’t going to sign on to any ‘alternate dispositions’ willingly,” Rock Point said flatly. “And despite the fact that Ahlverez is directly related to Thorast, I don’t think Fern’s scoring any points with the Duke by asking for Ahlverez’ opinion.”
“He’s not really asking Ahlverez’ opinion, Domynyk,” Merlin put in over the circuit. At the moment, he was in his Dialydd Mab persona, moving through a rain-soaked forest towards one of the columns of concentration camp inmates being driven towards the Border States. “In fact, what he’s trying to tap dance his way around to is even more problematical than that. He wants Ahlverez to suggest that his own men were less willing to fight to the death in a hopeless position because they knew it was our policy to treat prisoners humanely so that he can suggest to Kharmych—not Clyntahn—that our people might react the same way if they thought they wouldn’t be handed over for the Punishment. I think he hopes the Group of Four may be desperate enough to embrace at least a little rationality after what’s just happened to the AOG in Siddarmark. He’s not doing Ahlverez any favors by asking him to say anything of the sort, though, and I have to say I’m a little surprised that Ahlverez seems willing to answer the question honestly. He has to know he’s putting his neck right back into the noose—potentially, at least—if he takes a position that ends up pissing Clyntahn off.”
“A noose might be the least of his problems if he pisses off Zhaspahr Clyntahn,” Aivah Pahrsahn observed ironically from the study of her Siddar City townhouse.
“Personally, I think what’s most significant is that Fern is even considering suggesting, however diffidently, that it might be wiser to not give our people to the Punishment,” Pine Hollow said. “Consider how completely silent he was when it was Admiral Manthyr’s turn.” The Charisian Empire’s first councilor shook his head. “I’ll bet you’re entirely right about the way what happened to Kaitswyrth and Wyrshym—and even more what’s been happening to Rychtyr, too, now that I think about it—is driving his position, Cayleb. There’s no way he’d be doing this if he was remotely as confident as they’re all trying to pretend they are about just how their ‘Jihad’ is going to work out in the end.”
“You’re right about that,” Nimue Chwaeriau said from her post outside Princess Irys’ bedchamber. Irys was going to be irritated at having missed this conference, but Nimue was recording the entire conversation for her and she needed her sleep. Her advancing pregnancy was taking a lot out of her, and Nimue wasn’t going to wake her for something like this. Besides, it wasn’t as if Irys was still the only Corisandian cleared for the discussion.
“To be honest, I wasn’t all that surprised when Desnair effectively bailed on the jihad after what happened to the Army of Shiloh and the way Zhaztro hammered Geyra and Desnair the City. I wasn’t too surprised Mahrys weaseled his way around the decision with all those earnest promises to ‘return to the field as soon as humanly possible,’ either. It’s a bad sign for Zion when an emperor begins deliberately lying about his intentions to support the jihad, but Mahrys and Desnair in general have always had a lot of cynicism in their devotion to Mother Church. More than I think even they realized, to be honest. And, frankly, how big a loss to the Group of Four does Desnair’s military collapse really represent? They can still squeeze gold out of Mahrys, and it’s not as if the Desnairian Army—or Navy—covered itself with glory, is it? No.” She shook her head. “This is potentially a lot more significant, I think.”
“Agreed,” Phylyp Ahzgood said firmly.
The Earl of Coris might be the inner circle’s newest member, but he’d taken the revelation in stride. His familiarity with the Group of Four’s tactics and ruthlessness had made it much easier for him, and like the princess he served, he’d decided any God who agreed with Zhaspahr Clyntahn was no God of his. Now he sat beside his bedchamber’s window, gazing out into the Manchyr night, and nodded crisply.
“Dohlar’s been the Group of Four’s most effective secular supporter from the beginning—at least since Armageddon Reef, anyway. I think that probably surprises the Dohlarans as much as it surprises us, frankly, but it’s true. So if Fern’s looking for ways to mend fences with us, that says some really unpleasant things from Clyntahn’s perspective.”
“The problem is how Clyntahn chooses to take any suggestions coming out of Gorath,” Sharleyan said. “From his track record, any suggestion that he might not get his own way is only likely to make him even more furious.”
“I don’t think that really has a downside as far as we’re concerned,” Cayleb said somberly. “Pissing him off isn’t going to make things any worse for any of our people he gets his hands on, after all. It can’t. But if he responds to any perceived criticism from Dohlar the way he very well might, the consequences for the Dohlarans could be … severe. And from our perspective, anything that reduces Dohlar’s effectiveness—like, oh, a situation in which the members of the entire Royal Council find themselves desperately looking for ways to protect themselves and their families from the Inquisition—has to be a good thing. And, frankly,” the emperor’s expression was grim, “after what happened to Gwylym and his men, it won’t break my heart to find them having to do exactly that.”
“I have to admit I’d feel a lot better if Dohlar’s relationship with the Temple came a little unraveled, too,” Howsmyn sa
id. “Something that buys us a couple of more months for the King Haarahlds would be really, really welcome just now.”
“It certainly would,” Rock Point agreed. “On the other hand, now that we’ve officially gotten word about what happened in the Kaudzhu Narrows I can dispatch a couple of more Rottweilers to back you up, Dunkyn. Unfortunately, they’ll have to come from Tellesberg, so it’ll still be at least a couple of months before we can get them there.”
“Speaking solely for myself,” Baron Sarmouth replied from his sleeping cabin aboard Destiny, “I’m in favor of anything that gets us something with the armor to stand up against Dreadnought as quickly as possible. At the same time, I don’t think they’re going to be using her very aggressively against us anytime soon. They’re too busy still figuring out what they’ve got, and Kahrltyn had expended most of his ammunition before they took her. That means Thirsk and Zhwaigair are going to have to figure out how to produce more of it for her. Mind you, now that that clever bastard Fultyn’s producing shells for his own rifled guns that may not take them as long as we’d all like for it to. But for now, she’s more of a long-term threat than an immediate problem.”
“What about diverting the Cities from Hsing-wu’s Passage?” Cayleb asked.
“I don’t think we can,” Rock Point replied. “Dunkyn’s probably right about how long it would take Thirsk to get Dreadnought back into action, and Kynt needs the Cities up there on his right flank. For that matter, we need those bastards in Zion worrying about where they might go next. I could probably pull out the ones keeping an eye on Desnair, but they’re all the way on the other side of the Sea of Justice. That’s damned near five five-days for a dispatch boat, even if we use the semaphore to pass the message to Tarot and send the dispatch from Brankyr Bay. That’d cut a thousand miles or so off the voyage time, but by the time I got a dispatch boat to them with orders to leave their present station, I could have Lightning and Seamount a solid month on their way. And even after we got any of the Cities moving, they’d be limited to the speed of the galleons carrying their coal along with them. I think it’s entirely worthwhile to think about redeploying them eventually, especially with the delay to the King Haarahlds, but it’ll be faster to send the Rottweilers first.”