Dark Empress (30 page)

The look of complete unconcern on Siszthad’s face brought a mix of dry humour and disgust from Asima.

She could survive a cull. She had survived far worse.

Part Three: Cargoes

In which a new page of history begins

Ghassan shuffled his feet nervously and glanced sidelong at captain Jaral. In the past few years, their life had become surprisingly mundane.

The Pelasians seemed to have turned their attention west, toward their own people. The civil war there may have been quick and brutal, but the resulting peace had been long and just as brutal. For three years now Pelasia had cut off most of its remaining ties with the Empire or, at least, with the former territories of the Empire. Black ships had rarely been seen anywhere near the border zone, concentrating instead on keeping the new reign imposed on an unhappy and restless population.

Consequently, the only target for the militia was the pirates and, with what was essentially the closure of Pelasian waters and therefore a massive increase in Calphorian military concentration on anti-piracy activities, the villains were generally staying well away from the coastal regions and picking on the occasional brave merchant who crossed the open sea.

It had been rumoured that the Lord of Calphoris was considering reducing the size of his navy and pushing any spare militia into the land forces. The idealistic side of Ghassan approved of the move and realised that a reassignment to dry land could be a step toward his goal of directing the strength of Calphoris against M’Dahz. The practical side of him also realised, however, that since satrap Ma’ahd was now one of the top men in Pelasia, any move against them would likely result in Calphoris being squashed like an insect under the weight of the Pelasian army.

Also, frankly, he’d grown to love life at sea.

And so it was with some trepidation that he stood now with his captain outside the doors of the Lord’s council chamber in the palace of Calphoris. The next few minutes could change his life entirely; he could even be pensioned out. He swallowed nervously.

“Enter!”

Ghassan straightened his hastily-washed uniform and watched as the huge cedar doors swung slowly inwards to reveal the great court chamber of the provincial capital. The Lord of Calphoris sat at the far end not, as Ghassan had expected, on a high throne surrounded by vassals and servants and plotting campaigns on grand maps. The Lord of Calphoris was, in fact, sitting at a plain wooden desk with two elderly men and scribbling furiously while discussing something in low voices.

Ghassan looked around at the room. Large and high and fancy enough in which to hold great state occasions, the hall was certainly the largest single room Ghassan had even seen. Poles jutted from the wall high on both sides, having once held banners of some kind. The room was of white and yellow marble, with an inlaid and patterned floor.

He looked at the captain, who shrugged and gestured forwards.

The two men fell easily into step and strode with a clacking sound across the hard floor. As they approached the far end, the Lord looked up and blinked. Sitting back as they came to a halt and saluted, he frowned and then nodded.

“Captain Jaral and Officer Ghassan of the ‘Wind of God’ yes?”

“Sir.” They both replied in the affirmative. The Lord of Calphoris, ex-Imperial provincial governor and the most powerful man south of the sea was a surprisingly small and mousy nondescript man in an ordinary, plain tunic and breeches. He scratched his chin and fixed the two of them with the most piercing gaze Ghassan had ever seen. Those emerald eyes seemed to have weighed up Ghassan’s worth in a glance. This, despite his ordinary appearance, was an exceptionally intelligent man.

“I have important news to impart to you, gentlemen. Please… stand at ease.”

As the two sailors relaxed a little, though not enough to appear insolent, the Lord leaned back and stretched.

“You have been in port for three days. I believe…” he fished around among his papers, found one and ran his gaze down it. “Of sixty two militia craft in varying sizes, the ‘Wind of God’ is the only one currently in port and the ‘Shadu’s Arrow’, which we are not expecting for several days, will be the next.”

He smiled as he leaned back.

“It is good to see the navy so active, though I might prefer a few vessels close enough to afford protection to the city.” He shrugged.

“Did either of you see an unusual vessel arrive this morning?”

The captain nodded.

“There was a fast northern courier bearing a flag I didn’t recognise, sir. A raven, a dog and a cat or some such. Looked a lot like the old Imperial flag. A new lord in contact, sir?”

The Lord smiled.

“It was actually a raven, a wolf and a lion; silver on black. If you had looked carefully, you would have seen the crown between them also.”

Again, those piercing eyes weighed the two men up.

“News, as I said; brought on a courier ship from the north. Important news that directly affects myself, you and your crew, and indirectly everyone in Calphoris. But for now I want the flow of this news restricted. I need you to remain collected and deal with this professionally, yes?”

The two men frowned and nodded, uncertain of what was happening around them. The Lord breathed in and out several times and then straightened.

“There has been something of a development in the interminable power struggles of the central provinces, gentlemen. A week ago, give or take a day or two, lord Avitus of Velutio met the infamous general Caerdin in battle somewhere near the capital. It would appear that, although the general himself did not survive the battle, his liege lord has been crowned Emperor; the first in two decades to dare claim the title.”

The surprise was evident on the sailors’ faces and the Lord of Calphoris smiled quietly.

“According to my dispatches, this Darius, as he is called, has received overwhelming support from the northern and central provinces. The Imperial government is being reconstituted and commissioners sent to all Imperial territories to aid the transition of power as soon as things are settled at Velutio and on Isera.”

He sighed sadly.

“There are a number of lords both here in the south and along the eastern coast that will be unwilling to accept the mastery of a new Emperor and may well declare independence. I, on the other hand, am more than satisfied to return to my original role as governor of Calphoris if the commissioners will allow it, and I believe they will. By declaring for the new Emperor, it is entirely possible that I have made enemies for us of several of the more powerful lords in the southern provinces. Do you see why I bring this to your attention?”

Captain Jaral tapped his lip.

“With respect, my Lord…”

“Governor or ‘your Excellency’ will do nicely, I think.”

“Excellency, what does this mean for the militia? Are we to be disbanded, maintained, or integrated into new forces?”

The governor shrugged.

“I have only the bare bones of the matter at the moment, captain. I cannot imagine that men of talent and experience will be wasted. I am sure there will at the very least be a place for you. But let me come to the heart of the matter; the reason I sent for you, then.”

“Sir?”

The governor sank back into his chair once more, glancing briefly at the two old men who continued to work at their ledgers without looking up.

“Until we have further instructions from the Imperial council, I must do what I feel is prudent for Calphoris. As you are aware, I have allowed the naval branch of the militia to operate very loosely, under the authority of each individual captain, reporting only to the militia commander at Calphoris. Commander Pharus has always steadfastly maintained that such was the only way to operate an effective militia navy.”

“Yessir.”

“For now, however, I need someone to coordinate naval activity, to plan strategies and to dispatch the various militia vessels appropriately to new assignments as they return to port. It may be weeks, or even more than a month before we receive any further instructions from the capital and we have cities to the east who may declare against the Emperor and a growing and turbulent situation to the west.”

Ghassan frowned.

“Excellency, Pelasia has been quiet for years.”

The governor sighed, his expression inscrutable.

“That brings me to the rest of the news in the dispatches, gentlemen. It would appear that the scion of the last true royal house of Pelasia, Prince Ashar Parishid, took the field alongside the new Emperor and General Caerdin and defeated the de facto ruler, the satrap of Siszthad, in that same engagement.”

The young first officer blinked in surprise.

“Sir? Pelasians fighting in the central Imperial provinces?”

“Yes,” the governor shrugged. “It does seem odd, doesn’t it? In the days of the old Empire, Pelasian units were a standard auxiliary force in the military, but never whole armies of them becoming tied up in Imperial politics. Still, it is not difficult to see how, with the fractured Empire and the usurped throne of Pelasia, there could be sympathies among aligned factions.”

He stretched and tapped his chin thoughtfully.

“The problem we have now is that Siszthad was not alone in his coup in Pelasia. There are other noblemen who will be taking this news rather badly and, depending upon how Prince Ashar and the new Imperial government handle matters, we could see increased activity at the edge of our waters, or even assaults on our shipping or outposts.”

Ghassan shook his head in disbelief.

“Satrap Ma’ahd is basically in control of Pelasia right now and I would say he’s too careful to launch a war on us when there’s trouble coming back at him from overseas.”

The governor nodded.

“In fairness, young man, regardless of Siszthad’s title, I think you will find it’s been Ma’ahd that has controlled Pelasia for years and, while he may be concentrating on the potential return of Prince Ashar, M’Dahz is one of his power bases and his main shipyard these days, so he may feel the need to make his presence felt on our border, regardless.”

He shrugged.

“Until we receive further word from Velutio, I want you, Jaral, to coordinate the fleet. As soon as you leave here, go and see the commander Pharus and he will make arrangements for staff, banners and documents of authority to be delivered to you. I need you to make sure we still have an effective presence against pirates, and to put some ships to patrol in the east as you see fit, but make sure you have enough of a force to deal with any Pelasian threat.”

The governor smiled and tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially.

“And don’t go spreading the word about the new Emperor beyond those who need to know yet. I’ve made no official announcement and don’t intend to until I’ve slept upon it. As far as most folk are concerned until further notice, this is a mere reorganisation of the militia. Let’s not start a panic or a riot with unconfirmed rumours, eh?”

“Also,” he added, pinching the bridge of his nose, “let’s give it a few days and make sure this Darius is still in power with his head on his shoulders once the dust settles.”

The captain saluted.

“Sir, I’m not the most senior captain in the fleet, you understand?”

“You are, however, two things:” the governor smiled. “The most renowned and popular captain and first officer in my navy, with a fearsome reputation, and the only one currently in port. Now get to work, Jaral.”

“Of course, Excellency.”

The captain turned on his heel and strode from the room, Ghassan hurrying to catch up, still shaking his head in amazement.

“Captain, what does this mean for M’Dahz? Do you think the Prince Ashar will be leading an army or a fleet back from the north to retake Pelasia? If he does, what will happen to my town?”

“Calm yourself Ghassan. I realise that you’ve always wanted to go back to M’Dahz and personally behead that sack of shit satrap but, whatever may happen to the town, Ma’ahd has been living at Akkad for years now, controlling the throne. He may be beyond even your reach there.”

Ghassan nodded glumly and Jaral gave him a fatherly smile as they left the hall’s foyer and the doors were closed behind them.

“We’ll have to head back to the ship as soon as we’re done here and inform them of the change in status and orders. Then I’ll have to look for somewhere appropriate in the port to set up a headquarters; we can have staff and equipment sent to the ship in the meantime.”

“I presume, sir, that the crew will have a few days’ shore leave until the other vessels have all arrived and you’ve set their orders and are free to come back out?”

Jaral laughed.

“Hardly, Ghassan. I’m going to be a little busy from now on and, from what the governor said, we’ll need to get the ships out and patrolling as fast as possible. I’ll need to be on top of the situation at all times, with reports from every ship that comes in, changing the groupings and position of the navy as required. Gods, I may even need to put in a request to construct or buy more vessels.”

“But…”

“Ghassan, you’re more than capable of captaining the ship and you know it. Just make sure you follow the orders I give you and don’t go off on one of your personal crusades to hunt down Ma’ahd or your brother. There’s other things to be done right now.”

Ghassan shook his head.

“I’m not sure how the crew will take it, sir.”

Jaral smiled.

“I think you’ll find they’ve been expecting it for some time.”

In which events take a surprising turn