Farlander (48 page)

Read Farlander Online

Authors: Col Buchanan

‘Is that a threat?’ quipped young Romano, but Sparus ignored the remark and kept his eye fixed on Sasheen. What he said was true. The Mannian order despised leaders who failed in battle or betrayed signs of weakness. They tended to be disposed of rather swiftly.

The Matriarch glided across the floor between herself and Sparus. She placed a manicured hand lightly upon the Little Eagle’s arm, and gave him a brief smile. She turned towards the others, the motion sudden enough to cause one of her breasts to leer from her thin gown.

‘Well?’ she demanded, directing a scowl at the assorted generals.

The scarred mouth of Ricktus opened to speak. ‘Sparus is right,’ he declared, in a voice as coarse as his burnt skin. ‘The plan is a reckless one, and I cannot believe we are yet this desperate. Let us maintain our siege of the Free Ports. They will fall eventually, so long as we continue to strangle their trade.’

‘No,’ replied the Matriarch with her palm held up. ‘I had good reasons for requesting solutions to the Mercian problem, and they are still valid. For ten years now, we have strangled their trade and battered at their doors. Yet still the Free Ports stand. Others are meanwhile beginning to gain courage from their defiance. We must defeat these Mercians, and do so decisively, if our Empire is to avoid appearing weak. Khos must therefore be taken. Without it, the rest of the Free Ports will either surrender or starve.’

She returned to the map again, which Ché had been studying even as she spoke. Pencil strokes had been drawn across it, quite roughly, denoting fleet movements and land actions. He could discern the symbols of two fleets encroaching along the western isles of the Free Ports, one ranging along the archipelago, the other concentrating upon Minos. A third fleet could be seen far to the east, denoted by a heavily pencilled arrow sweeping from Lagos down to Khos. The Matriarch jabbed at this now.

‘The Sixth Army remains in Lagos at Mokabi’s suggestion. They are sharp from their recent work quelling the insurrection. It would be the perfect surprise, and Mokabi sees it, as he has always seen these things. We create this First Expeditionary Force from the Sixth and what other remnants we can put together, and from Lagos ship them straight down to Khos.’

‘But Matriarch,’ rasped Ricktus, ‘even if their Eastern Fleet were to be drawn away by our two diversionary campaigns in the west, the Mercian squadrons defending the Zanzahar convoys would still remain active in the region. Our ships at Lagos are mostly transports and merchant vessels, along with two squadrons of men-of-war. The Expeditionary Fleet would be poorly protected, as Sparus has already noted. It would take only a handful of squadrons to send the entire force to the bottom of the Midèr
s.’

Young Romano, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, sat forward now as though to pounce. ‘Remember though, these diversionary fleets will be the largest yet seen in the course of this war. Mercia will be hard pressed to match their numbers even with the full extent of their navy. They will
have
to draw the Eastern Fleet away to defend the west.’

‘So speaks the expert on naval tactics,’ declared Kirkus unexpectedly, and received a glare from Romano in return for his own.

‘The Expeditionary Fleet will not be tarrying to engage in any sea battles, gentlemen,’ declared Sasheen. ‘It will punch straight through any squadrons it encounters, and its men-of-war will sacrifice themselves, if they have to, in order for the transports to make it through. All that ultimately matters is that the Army reaches land.’

Sparus interjected, ‘It is fine for Mokabi to sit there in his villa in Palermo, and sketch great campaigns of daring on parchment as though he was still the archgeneral. It is another thing entirely to see such a venture through.’

‘He has agreed to come out of retirement, if we sanction it,’ declared Sasheen.

‘Aye, to lead his beloved Fourth Army while it’s safely encamped beyond range of the walls of Bar-Khos. If the Expeditionary Force takes the city from behind, then they merely open the door for him, and he gets to parade through in triumph. If not, well, he can blame someone else for the failures, and assure himself of a safe return to his estate.’

‘Mokabi is committed to this venture,’ protested Alero, an old comrade of the absent general. ‘He will risk his neck like the rest of us.’

‘Aye, well, it’s telling that he does not volunteer to lead the Expeditionary Force either. And I understand his reasons for that, unspoken or not. I would not wish to lead such a reckless campaign either.’

Sasheen finished her drink and thrust the empty goblet at a passing servant. ‘That is a pity, Sparus, for I was hoping you might like to come along with me.’

‘Matriarch?’

‘I will be accompanying the Expeditionary Force myself.’

Surprise rippled through the gathering. Ché’s breath caught in his throat, where he still stood to one side, entirely ignored.

‘As you so rightly put it,’ continued Sasheen, and for an instant her eyes flickered between young Romano and fat Alero, ‘my throne will depend upon its outcome. It is fitting therefore that I should be there – shaking the spear so to speak.’

‘This is madness, Matriarch. You cannot risk yourself in such a way.’

‘All life is a venture in risk, Sparus. And you will go, if you wish to see your Matriarch safely through this endeavour in one piece.’

Romano was enjoying this, till Sasheen chose that moment to offer the young general a smile.

‘And you too, Romano. Sparus will lead the Expeditionary Force, and you will be his second-in-command.’ The young man sat up abruptly, causing a trickle of ash to fall from his hazii stick and scatter over his lap. ‘Alero, Ricktus, you will each take command of one of the diversionary fleets, and cause such a storm down there that we may find enough space to slip through. This is how it shall be.’

The youth, Kirkus, leaned forward, his eyes bright. ‘And I, mother . . . I would like to go with you also.’

‘But you will not’, she replied firmly. ‘You are to stay here, within the Temple, until we have dealt with our other problem.’

At this she glanced at Ché for the first time. He found himself standing to attention as he held her gaze.

‘But who knows how long that might take?’ demanded Kirkus.

‘You should have thought of that, my fine son, when you were performing your cull, and so rashly flaunted the privileges of your position.’

The boy’s sullen response was stifled by a sudden loud croak from one side of the room. All heads turned to it, including Ché’s. He expected to see a pet kerido perhaps, squatting on the floor and tearing at a lump of flesh. Instead it was the grandmother, her eyes still tightly closed.

‘The boy acted rightly,’ rasped the ancient priestess. ‘He acted dutifully in accordance with Mann. Do not fault him for that, my daughter.’

The Matriarch blew out a prolonged mouthful of air. ‘Be that as it may,’ she said, ‘but for now he is not to set foot from here for any reason.’ And she chopped her flattened hand through the air, cutting off Kirkus from further protest. She was displeased at this public discussion, and even Kirkus knew to remain silent, though his face burned.

‘Now,’ continued Sasheen. ‘If you will all excuse me.’

Matriarch Sasheen departed from the group and strode deliberately past Ché. ‘Come with me,’ she snapped in her wake.

He followed her perfumed scent to the windows, where they stepped through a set of sliding glass doors onto a terrace that encircled the tower. Potted plants stood around its periphery, straining against the wind. As Sasheen slid the doors closed behind them, the rain spattered their faces, cold as the gusts that drove it.

‘You are wondering why I allowed you to witness the workings of my Storm Council.’

‘No, Holy Matriarch,’ Ché lied, instinctively. He knew better than to openly acknowledge a lack of trust in him from his superiors. It might indicate a guilty frame of mind, a dangerous condition in an order where treachery was almost a doctrine.

Sasheen appraised him for truth. ‘Good,’ she said at last. ‘Your handlers all agree upon your loyalty. Perhaps they are even right in their judgement.’

He bowed his head, but said nothing.

‘You wonder, then, why I sent for you?’

‘Yes, Matriarch,’ he replied, head still inclined, and this time he told only the truth.

‘I will speak plainly, then.’ With her chin she pointed to the Storm Chamber within. ‘My son, young Kirkus there, has killed one who bore a seal.’

Ché at last looked up at her. Sasheen was taller than he, as most people were.

‘In her
wisdom
, my mother made no effort to stop him. She has always considered the R
shun to be of little threat to Mann. I myself am not so certain.’ Her gown blew open in the wind; water trickled between her breasts, over her belly, down into the wispy hairs of her pelvis.

‘Several days ago we intercepted three of their number as they tried to gain access to my son. Two were intended as a diversion, but another almost succeeded – though we cornered him in time. I’m told he took his own life. Regardless, they will send others.’

‘I see,’ he murmured. Ché’s heart was beating faster now. He could feel the blood throbbing in his fingertips, his toes.

‘Do you, I wonder?’

‘Yes. You must know I was trained as R
shun – as a future safeguard against a situation such as this.’

‘Then you know why I sent for you.’

Ché wanted to scratch his neck again, but he fought against the compulsion. Instead he turned his face into the rain. It stung his eyes, but at least it helped soothe the itching. ‘You wish me to lead you to the place of the R
shun order,’ Ché spoke into the wind, ‘so that you may destroy them before they destroy your son.’

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