The Conqueror (21 page)

As for Verescens himself, he had only
truly been happy at the head of a small but intrepid band of his
own people, when poverty and danger were not hardships but the
forging of a bond that could never be broken. He longed for those
days; those days were long gone—a line from an old epic poem he had
once recited before the hetman and his table in his own village, so
very, very long ago.

The Great One eyed him curiously,
allowing him a moment for whatever reason.

Jumalak gave an inquiring twitch of the
head.

“
A penny for your
thoughts.”

“
And you shall have them,
oh, Great One.”

A few of the nearer officers chuckled
on hearing it, still eying the map and each other in speculative
fashion though.

The master nodded thoughtfully, the
eyes came up and Verescens grinned.

“
Yes, master!”

Jumalak smiled, almost colorless eyes
probing, seeking, always studying those around him for any sign of
defect, uncertainty, or evasiveness. Verescens examined him in
return, just as frankly, perhaps one reason for his long survival
in a position not known for job security or a long life expectancy
judging by the fate of some of his predecessors.

He nodded, looking around at the
others.

The Khan raised his glass.

“
Here’s looking at us,
boys!”

A ripple of suppressed energy went
through the assembly, now gathering in close, as close as they
dared, in the hopes of being seen, of being rewarded and
remembered, in the hopes of seeing some signs of approval or even
affection.

Ultimately, they were not to be
disappointed, thought the Master-General.

Verescens’ line was right out of the
Book of Protocols.

“
Here is to our Lord and
Master, Jumalak, the Great Khan of the Horde!”

“…
yayyyyyyyyyy!!!”

The cheer that rang out in the great
map room was something that hadn’t been heard in quite a long time,
and as they drank, a philosophic and rather somber Verescens was
fairly certain that there would be more of them.

Not to say there weren’t risks, because
there were—and plenty of them.

There was just no way to foresee every
possibility, to forestall every gambit, to win every
battle.

The simple fact was that no one could
foresee the future, and the fact that all the auguries were good
comforted the highly-experienced Verescens not at all. Auguries
were just chicken-guts, in the final analysis. It was an old
proverb of his people.

The communications officer stepped
forwards, fully briefed on what to expect today and what exactly he
was supposed to say.

He clapped his hands.

“
Your attention please,
gentlemen.”

The glasses were reluctantly lowered
and the room grew silent.

“
Reports will begin to
trickle in within a day or two. These reports will be mostly
routine, at first, reports of departures and deployments, and we
cannot expect any real results for several days.” He glanced back
at Verescens and his sovereign, who nodded casually. “Some will
find it expedient to return to their posts, your offices and
departments, and that is to be expected. We await further
developments. Suffice it to say that all is well so
far.”

There was a light and incongruous
smattering of applause at this statement and Verescens suppressed a
snort. There was nothing much happening that wasn’t hundreds or
even thousands of miles away and there was nothing to do but wait.
It was like hanging on meat-hooks while you tried to eat, to piss,
to shit and to sleep, he thought.

The communications officer, a captain
on this shift, turned back to the semi-circle of bright and
expectant faces. There were any number of races and creeds in that
room, which said much for the swath the Great Khan’s father had cut
through the desert and the mountains a generation ago, not to
mention Jumalak’s own more recent acquisitions.

“
In the meantime, while
there is a tendency to relax, let’s all stay on our toes and do our
jobs. And pray to the gods that everything goes our
way.”

After another quick glance at an
indulgent master, he bowed rather informally and quickly moved back
to the periphery, where he had a large table of his own and a
number of scurrying assistants. This was the locus of all messages
coming in and out, written or oral, whether excruciatingly
important or the most niggling of detail.

With the Khan giving no real cues,
sooner or later someone had to be the first one to speak, the first
one to drain their glass. And then, seeing that all was well with
the Great One and that he was cheerfully ragging some of the more
junior attendants, a bit pale around the gills as they might be,
the talk eventually became a little more animated.

Chapter Fifteen

There was a faint glow on the
northeastern horizon.

It was a moment pregnant with
suppressed emotions. The tension was unbearable. It was also a
moment of sublime beauty, to be remembered as long as one
lived...

Dawn lay not far off. Lowren stood in
the bow with a picked man or two, for the reefs lay on their port
side—hopefully. It was only when they saw the creamy foam of the
surf, which lay a good one and half miles out from the land, it was
only then, when they knew they had succeeded. There were only the
faintest of sounds from over there.

He turned to a sailor at his
elbow.

“
Good. Excellent. Send the
signal.” With constant trade all along the littoral of the Great
Sea, the area was not just well-known but well-marked on their
charts—just as Captain Rollo and other fleet captains had assured
them.

Showing confidence in his
captains and their navigation, Lowren had stationed the
Cygnus
at the head of the
port column. She was a hundred and twenty feet long. Swift, long,
low and lean, thirty warriors rode the ship. They were all armed to
the teeth. Twenty more hand-picked men sat with oars ready to be
fitted. There were a half a dozen sailors and boys, all busy and
underfoot at the present moment. Under full sail and making good
way, the ship breasted the waves with a lurch and a shudder, wind
full at her back and stern-high much of the time as the helmsman
sawed at his massive oar.

Lowren and a seaman made their way to
the poop deck, a raised platform where the helmsman and captain
rode, and where his own small party tended to congregate. It was
out of the way of the soldiers and the oarsmen, although the small
area seemed crowded at the best of times. The treads were narrow
and the ladder steep.

They had been waiting for just such a
moment. It was a risk, but a calculated one.

With the breakup complete, a strong
northwest wind had blown all the ice far out to sea. Most harbors
to the south and west would still be clogged—but Lemnia’s small
coastal ports, as well as that of Windermere and the Heloi had been
clear for several days before the order was given. Sailing up the
coast from Helois and Windermere, the combined fleets had gathered
up the Lemni and especially their archers. He had a thousand
archers dispersed throughout the fleet, one small part of his
contribution.

The wind had shifted to the west and
that would hold for a week at this season, according to all the
almanacs.

Kann and Theodelinda were sort of
entwined together, looking forward to the bows, as the captain
caught Lowren’s eye.

“
Told you so.” They were
right on schedule.

Lowren, not quite trusting himself to
speak, grinned and nodded.

The
Cygnus
led the port column, but now it
was time to cut them loose. They were all volunteers in the ships
that followed Lowren into battle.

The starboard column was composed of
much larger vessels. With their two and three masts and tiers of
sails, they still capable of keeping up with the Lemnian long
ships, but packed with troops, siege engines and supplies. The
bigger ships were from Windermere and the Heloi. The latter ships
were manned by a rather husky breed of free men, fighting oarsmen
who loved nothing better than swinging over on a rope, a boarding
at sea and a pitched battle with hatchet, short pike or cutlass on
enemy decks. While the Heloi didn’t use shields aboard ship, their
swords were long. It was said men standing on one ship had stabbed
men standing on another—and who probably weren’t all that expecting
it at the time.

The
Cygnus’
first mate turned his hooded
lantern to the stern. His hand worked the metal shutter and began
flashing a dim yellow glow to the next ship in the left-hand
column.

‘
We are breaking off. You
are under your own command. Good luck. Cygnus.’

The flicker came quickly
back.

‘
Stand by to take us off.
The Black Duck.’

The response was a quick series of
flashes, repeated here and there, all up and down the line as they
located themselves, and then it was over. Lowren had two little
ships trailing behind for that little detail. They would be coming
in with the second wave. There were twelve ships in this initial
assault. He had two more columns, a total of forty more ships,
following two or three miles behind. They could follow up a
successful attack, cover a withdrawal. They would be in a position
to land on the flats below the town and invest it in a more
conventional manner. An initial two-pronged assault had been ruled
out. It just seemed too improbable in terms of timing and
communications back and forth over several miles of disputed sea or
land. Lowren had a fair degree of confidence in his
plan.

If anyone could do it, these were the
men to have with you.

The captain muttered low
words.

“
Ten degrees to starboard.”
This would take them to a lead point out front and in between the
two leading columns, six ships in each, for the attack on Sinopus.
“Tighten sail please.”

The second instruction was for the
mate, and he bundled off down the centre of the boat to make it
happen. They were keeping their voices low, and the slop and lap of
the waves drowned most of it out. Off to port, they could barely
make out the sound of surf crashing on a beach. The boat pitched
more noticeably with the wind more to the rear again. The ship was
sheltered from the waves by a lee shore but the wind was still with
her. There was a bare foot and a half of a rather confused chop now
and that was about all.

Lowren felt the men’s eyes on him. He
nodded, and looked the nearest ones in the eye.

“
Pass the word. Prepare to
attack, gentlemen.”

A low mutter went through the ship as
the armor clinked and the boots and sandals shuffled in
anticipation.

Lowren stared, fascinated, as a low
headland seemed to reach out towards them from the northern shore.
There was a line of hills backing it up, and then the shore turned
right away to the northwest again. This harbor was unique along the
windswept northern coastline. He could only hold his breath so
long, and then the water magically got calmer as the captain spoke
and the helm brought her around.

Off to port and behind them, the first
of the pale and ghostly shapes of the fire-ships loomed, a long
line of large fishing smacks and schooners from the express coastal
trade. All were laden to the gills with pitch, dry kindling, and
other combustible materials. Each of them had a good turn of speed,
with a dinghy or small boat trailing along behind for the crew to
escape...hopefully.

Theodelinda and Kann were holding on,
trying to avoid a tumble into the helmsman.

“
Whoa. Steady her up. Five
degrees to port.”

They waited.

There was a gasp, and Theodelinda was
gripping both of their shoulders now.

Lowren licked his lips, trying to take
it all in at once. The water calmed to a sheet of glass and ahead
of them, outlined against the lights and pale towers, the seven
hills of Sinopus rising above, he saw a forest of masts.

The bulk of the shipping was
concentrated here, in the outer port. This was where the warships
would be, unless they were building, undergoing refit, or being
careened, scraped and re-caulked.

That didn’t seem very likely, although
it would have been a factor later in the season. According to
sources, the major naval ships of Sinopus were tied up along the
main pier, with skeleton crews and under guard against scuttling or
sabotage. It would take only so much time for the Great Khan to
find crews and train them.

He craned his head to the right. The
only hint of the starboard column was a ragged saw-tooth impression
of bleak, dark shapes against a dull grey horizon and the water,
which appeared lighter than the sky in this light. They were to
deploy to the left and right of the first ship to land. So far no
other ships were edging out in front, not as far as he could make
out. The second column was right where it was supposed to
be.