Another part of her agreed solely on the basis of cold political and military calculation. Whether the massacre had been intentional or not, it had, as Mandolin had pointed out, happened. Allowing it to pass unavenged for any reason would be seen as an indication of weakness by Charis' enemies and potential friends alike.
Yet despite that, another part of her dreaded the expansion of warfare which seemed implicit in Mandolin's position. Not simply because it would mean more people would be killed, but because of the way it would dilute the combat power of the new Charisian Empire.
We don't need a distraction from Hektor right now, she thought, and realized with something very like surprise that Cayleb must already have recognized that point. In fact, it seemed as if his closest allies in the council must have seen it also, and she wondered when and how they might have found time to discuss it.
You're making mysteries out of nothing again, she told herself. They've known Cayleb since he was a boy. Of course they'll have realized how his mind is working without his having to tell them. God knows Mahrak does that for you often enough!
All of which was perfectly logical. . . and did nothing to change her stubbornly persistent feeling that something more was involved.
"You've made an excellent point, Sir Rahnyld," Cayleb said. "I'd like to remind everyone, however, that we have a rather pressing problem to the east, as well. Does anyone at this table really want to think about what Hektor may be able to do if we give him any more months to work with than we have to?"
The thoughtful silence which answered him was profound, Merlin observed dryly.
"Obviously, we can't know everything Hektor might be doing," Gray Harbor said . . . not entirely accurately, Merlin thought. "On the other hand, we all know he isn't exactly a drooling idiot, unfortunately. We have to assume he's making preparations for the invasion he knows as well as we do is coming."
"Actually, Prince Nahrmahn and I may have a report on his preparations sometime in the next few days, Rayjhis," Wave Thunder said. "I'm expecting to hear from certain agents of mine sometime quite soon now."
Nahrmahn simply nodded, his expression serene, as if he had some idea of what Wave Thunder was talking about, and Merlin felt a smile tickling the corners of his mouth.
"That will be very welcome, Bynzhamyn," Gray Harbor said with a nod of his own. "However, the point we all need to bear in mind right this minute is the one His Majesty's already raised. If we allow this massacre to divert us from our focus on Hektor, it may cost us dearly."
"I agree." Sharleyan was a bit surprised by how firmly her own two-word sentence came out, but she didn't let that faze her. "Obviously, I have my own reasons for wanting to see Hektor dealt with. Nonetheless, I think it should be clear to all of us that he represents a far greater potential danger to us than Delferahk ever could. Not only do we already know he's our enemy, even without the Church's prompting, but he's closer to us. And, as Earl Lock Island's just pointed out, all indications are that the Group of Four is laying down only new galleys, whereas I think we'll all agree Hektor is far too smart—and far too well aware of what just happened to his navy—to make that particular mistake."
"Precisely." Cayleb nodded and smiled at her.
"I have to agree, as well," Lock Island said, far more reluctantly. "At the same time, though, Your Grace, Baron Mandolin's point is very well taken. We have to respond to this."
"Oh, I agree, Bryahn," Cayleb said. "I simply want everyone to bear in mind that the nature of our rather pressing commitments means that some of the things we might like to do are mutually exclusive."
"Very well, Your Majesty, we'll all bear that in mind," Lock Island said, eyeing his youthful monarch speculatively. "Now suppose you tell us what you've already decided we're going to decide to do about this?"
Sharleyan still felt more than a little surprised when one of Cayleb's councilors showed the temerity to speak to him that way. Very few monarchs would have tolerated it, yet Cayleb actually seemed to encourage it, out of his closest advisers, at least.
And the fact that they feel comfortable enough with—and confident enough in— him to actually do it probably explains why he gets so much out of them.
"Actually, I have had a thought or two on the subject," Cayleb admitted mildly, and despite the gravity of the events which had brought them together, more than one of his councilors raised a hand to hide a smile.
"In simplest terms, we do need to respond, but we also need to retain the majority of our fighting power for use against Hektor and Corisande. Also, I believe it's important that whatever response we make be clearly appropriate to the provocation. We're going to have a fight on our hands getting anyone to accept—or to openly admit that they do, at least—that our version of events is the truth, instead of the lies we all know the Group of Four are going to manufacture to justify their actions and blacken ours. We don't need to make their mouthpieces' task any easier."
Even Mandolin nodded, and the emperor continued.
"So far as we now know, the only place where this has happened is Ferayd. It's possible we'll find out differently, in which case we may have to reconsider things. If, however, it turns out that this did happen only at Ferayd, then our legitimate quarrel will be with King Zhames and his Kingdom. We may protest the seizure of our ships by other realms, but under the accepted law of nations, protesting is the appropriate response at this point unless there's been deliberately inflicted, avoidable loss of life. Which is precisely what seems to have happened at Ferayd.
"In addition, there's the . . . complication that all of the witnesses agree the Inquisition was directly involved. In fact, that Inquisitors deliberately incited the massacre." The youthful emperor's expression turned bleak, his eyes into brown flint. "Whatever Clyntahn and the Group of Four may claim, those Inquisitors knew they were goading King Zhames' troops into murdering women and children aboard those ships. Somehow I find it difficult to believe a child could be guilty of heresy, whatever its parents might have done, and I think it's time we reminded of the Inquisition of what the Writ says about the murder of innocents." Those flinty eyes went to Maikel Staynair's face. "I believe the relevant text is in The Book of Langhorne, isn't it, Maikel? Chapter twenty-three, if I recall correctly?"
The archbishop looked back at him for a moment, then nodded slowly.
"I believe you're thinking about verse fifty-six, Your Majesty," he said." 'Woe be unto the murderers of innocence, for the blood of the innocent cries out to the ear and heart of God, and He will not hold His hand against its shedders. Better for them never to have been born, for His curse is upon them, His wrath will find them out, and He will use the hand of the righteous to destroy them utterly.' "
"Yes, that's the passage I had in mind," Cayleb agreed grimly.
"Excuse me, Your Majesty," Baron White Church said in a very careful tone of voice, "but—"
"I'm not planning on holding the entire city of Ferayd responsible for those deaths and stringing up every head of household in the city limits, My Lord," Cayleb interrupted the Keeper of the Seal. "But I do intend to call the guilty to account. Whoever they may be."
There was dead silence in the council chamber for several seconds. Sharleyan glanced at the faces of the men seated around the council table and felt that silence singing in her bones. White Church looked profoundly unhappy, and one or two others certainly looked . . . less than eager, yet she was almost surprised by how little true resistance she sensed.
And why should I be surprised? She shook her head mentally. As White Church himself pointed out, we're already at war with the Church, and with enough just cause for twenty kingdoms!
"And how will you establish that guilt, Your Majesty?" Staynair asked quietly at length.
"I don't propose to select two or three dozen Temple Loyalist priests at random and hang them as examples or reprisals, Maikel." Cayleb's expression lightened slightly, and he snorted. "Mind you, there are times I find the temptation
to do precisely that greater than at others. However, if we're not going to act without evidence right here in Charis, we can't do the same thing somewhere else, either. Not unless we want to open ourselves to the deserved accusation that our actions are just as capricious and reprehensible as those of Clyntahn himself, and no matter how angry I may be, I refuse to put myself into the same category as Zhaspahr Clyntahn! On the other hand, I don't suppose that anyone in Ferayd—and especially not anyone from the Office of the Inquisition—is particularly concerned about any possible consequences stemming from their actions in this case. Which probably means there hasn't been any cover-up yet. Or, at least, not any effective cover up. And if there hasn't, then I think it's time they, and the Grand Inquisitor, discover they're wrong about those consequences. No one is going to act without evidence. If, however, that evidence exists, and if it can be found, then the men who incited the murder of Charisian children in front of their mothers' and fathers' eyes, will face the justice meted out to any murderer of children. I don't care who they are, I don't care what their names are, and I don't care about whatever vestments they may wear. Is that clear to everyone around this table?"
He swept his eyes around the table. White Church still looked deeply unhappy, but even he met that flint-brown gaze without flinching, and Cayleb nodded.
"Good," he said softly. Then he inhaled deeply.
"However," he continued in a deliberately lighter voice, "lest all of you decide I'm turning all wishy-washy by insisting on evidence, I do believe a significant slap on the wrist is due to King Zhames, Ferayd, and Delferahk generally. Just as a gentle reminder that we're none too happy with them, either. And since we'd like for others to profit from their example, I want that slap delivered firmly. Very firmly."
"Administered exactly how, Your Majesty?" Lock Island asked just a little cautiously.
"We're not going to need the entire Navy for the invasion of Corisande," Cayleb replied. "Enough to provide security for the invasion transports, of course. And enough light units to provide the flank security we'll need and to blockade Hektor's ports. But no matter how hard he's been working on replacing his navy, he can't have any more than a handful of ships . . . yet. It's partly because of the need to keep that from changing that I refuse to be diverted from Corisande at this point.
"We, on the other hand, have over fifty galleons in commission by now. I imagine we could let you have twenty or thirty of them for something besides invading Corisande, Bryahn. I'm thinking we should hand them over to Admiral Rock Point and tell him to go . . . remonstrate with Ferayd. He can have a few Marines, too. Enough to pretty much burn the entire waterfront district of Ferayd to the ground, let's say."
Cayleb's voice had gone iron-hard once more with the last sentence. Even so, it was warmer than the brown eyes looking levelly into Lock Island's.
"I want no counter-massacre here, Bryahn. Be sure all your captains understand that. Justice against those we know are guilty, yes, but I don't want our people provoked into anything that could even be called a counter-massacre. I don't doubt that even if we managed to refrain from injuring a single soul, the Group of Four would announce we'd raped and murdered half the city. In the end, though, the truth is going to get out. When it does, I want it to bite Clyntahn on the arse, not us. But having said that, I also don't want a single unburned ship floating in that harbor, or a building standing within two miles of that waterfront. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," Lock Island said formally, without a trace of levity.
"Good. I also want all of our captains, and all of our privateers, to understand that it's hunting season for anything flying the Delferahkan flag. Again, make it clear I will tolerate no unnecessary brutality or vengeance killing. But I don't want a single Delferahk-flagged merchant ship anywhere on the seas of Safehold two months from today."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Lock Island repeated.
"If it should turn out that any of the other realms have treated our people the way Delferahk has, they'll receive the same treatment, one port city at a time. In the meantime, though, we need to be concentrating our primary effort on Corisande and Hektor. So, since we have you and General Chermyn both present, what can you tell us?"
"Mainly that so far we're on schedule, Your Majesty. The transports are collecting now, although if we've lost as many merchantmen as we may have to this new move by the Group of Four, it could put a crimp into our plans. Aside from that possibility, I don't see any significant problems. The troop strengths should reach the required level on schedule, at any rate."
"Ah, if I might, Your Majesty?" Prince Nahrmahn said, raising one plump hand in a polite attention-seeking gesture.
"Yes, Your Highness?" Cayleb replied.
"I simply wished to say, first, that I agree wholeheartedly with the priorities you've just established. And, second, that I've had a certain amount of correspondence with Grand Duke Tohmas."
"What sort of 'correspondence'?" Cayleb asked, his eyes narrowing intently.
"It was purely of an exploratory nature, you understand, between myself as Prince of Emerald and him as the Grand Duke of Zebediah," Nahrmahn said in a self-deprecating tone. "As such it was, of course, well before Emerald became a territory of the Empire. In fact, it began well before the recent. . . unpleasantness the 'Knights of the Temple Lands' demanded of Her Grace and me. It's continued since, however. Until, ah, quite recently, in fact."
"I see." Cayleb kept his eyes on Nahrmahn, Sharleyan noticed. Earl Gray Harbor, on the other hand, glanced at Cayleb, rather than the Emeraldian prince. Or perhaps not. For just a moment, the first councilor's eyes actually seemed to slip past the emperor, instead.
"And the nature of this correspondence was . . . ?" Cayleb continued before she had any time to consider that possibility, and the question promptly refocused her own attention fully upon Nahrmahn.
"As I say, it was of an exploratory nature," Nahrmahn repeated. "Nonetheless, I suspect from some of the points we discussed that it's entirely possible he might be prepared to be . . . rather more reasonable than you and your advisers may have been assuming. In fact, I believe it's entirely possible he might be open to the possibility of providing Admiral Lock Island and General Chermyn with a forward base much closer to Corisande than, say, Chisholm."
"I see," Cayleb said slowly. He cocked his head to one side, considering his younger brother's father-in-law-to-be thoughtfully. Then he nodded. "I'll want to be more fully informed on that previous correspondence of yours, Your Highness. I believe, however, that if the possibility you've suggested actually exists, it could prove quite valuable."
Nahrmahn said nothing. Instead, he inclined his head in a half bow of assent.
"Very well," Cayleb said then, with an air of finality as he laid his palms flat on the council table and pushed his chair back from it. "I believe that completes our business for the day, Gentlemen?"
There was a general rumble of agreement. Of course, there always was, Merlin thought, and wondered what would happen if one day one of Cayleb's councilors disagreed with him, instead.
"In that case," the emperor continued, "I'll ask you all to excuse Her Grace and me. We have an appointment with the survivors from Ferayd." His mouth tightened briefly, then his nostrils flared as he stood, extending his hand to Sharleyan to assist her to her feet. "I hope they'll take a certain comfort from learning that Delferahk and Ferayd will soon learn the error of their ways. At any rate, I'll take a great deal of comfort from telling them so."
October, Year of God 892
.I.
Helen Island,
Howell Bay,
Kingdom of Charis
The breeze piled whitecaps across King's Harbor as Empress Sharleyan stepped out onto the battlements of the Citadel. It was a most impressive sight, she thought, gazing down at the tiny model ships lying at anchor across the sun-sparkled, white-veined blue marble. The wind was a cool, vigorous relief from the day's heat, and th
e flags and banners along the battlements danced and clapped wildly, as if applauding the scene stretched out before her. Edwyrd Seahamper, on the other hand, seemed less impressed by the spectacular vista than he was relieved by the fact that up here on the battlements, she was safe from any lurking assassins.
"I really don't believe you're going to be required to sell your life dearly in my service, Edwyrd," she said to the man who had spent his life keeping her safe since she was a little girl.
"With all due respect, Your Majesty, I don't really think so, either. Not today, at any rate."
She turned her head, gazing at him with a fond smile. Then the smile faded just a bit, and she reached out and laid one hand on his upper arm.
"Do you still think this was all a dreadful mistake, Edwyrd?" she asked, her quiet voice almost lost in the rippling thunder of the flags snapping and popping on the breeze.
"Your Majesty, it would never have been my place to say anyth—"
"Don't be silly, Edwyrd." She squeezed his chain mail-covered arm. "I don't believe you've actually had to say anything since I was eleven!"
Despite himself, the guardsman's mouth twitched on the shivering edge of a smile, and she laughed.
"Edwyrd, Edwyrd!" She shook his arm gently. "It's such a pity you've spent so much time working on that poker face of yours, when the only person you really want to fool can read you like a book!"
"Well, it's hardly my fault you've always been too smart by half, Your Majesty," he replied.
"No, it's not. And you still haven't answered my question. Do you still think this was all a dreadful idea?"
Seahamper looked at her for a moment, then turned to gaze out over the harbor. It wasn't often he and the queen—Empress, you dolt! he corrected himself—found themselves alone like this. Indeed, she had even less privacy now than she'd had when she was "only" the Queen of Chisholm.