Kingslayer (35 page)

Darius’s poor impression of the man soured by several degrees. Bad enough this idiot treated Amalah poorly but he actually dallied with other women? Before they were even properly
married
? Darius found the double standard ironic, too. Here Grygotis stood in open view, flirting with several women, and apparently didn’t think anything of it and yet he’d castigated Amalah for flirting with Darius. And she
hadn’t
been flirting with him. (Unfortunately. Darius would have rather enjoyed it if she had.)

Grygotis never once glanced up in his betrothed’s direction, which inclined Darius to believe that he didn’t know she sat nearby. He stole a glance toward her. Amalah had obviously heard him, as the book had been lowered and she watched him silently as he played. A statue would have had more expression than she at this moment. This lack of response worried Darius far more than rage or pain would have. How many times had she seen this that it no longer affected her? Or did she hate the man so much that she didn’t care where his attention turned to?

Darius didn’t like either possibility.

Without a word, Amalah slowly closed her book and walked quietly out of the library. Darius watched her go, not sure whether to feel anger on her behalf or sorrow. To be tied to a man like
that
….

She’s not my fiancé,
he reminded himself as he took several deep breaths.
I have no power here. I can’t fix this, as much as I wish I could.

With Grygotis’s crude laughter ringing in his ears, he turned for the door, forcibly turning his mind back toward war.

~~~

In an effort to avoid thinking about Amalah, he buried himself in work, often taking on tasks that he normally would have delegated. It did not escape the notice of his staff or his household as everyone gave him odd looks now and again. Darius normally looked for excuses to escape his desk for a few minutes at least once a day but now he’d chained himself to it willingly and made no complaints. It would naturally cause a few raised eyebrows.

But because of that single minded dedication, the plans for both his sea bluff and his land battle came along nicely. With Kaveh’s help—not to mention Gabr’s—they calculated how much oil they needed and Darius did the necessary forms to requisition what they needed. Even with the insane order, however, it wouldn’t quite be enough so he also had to request that the queen ration oil for the next month for all of Niotan.

Gabr assured them that hollow walls could be easily floated into place and would not put undue strain on the walls. That wouldn’t remain true if a ship tried to ram through them, of course, and damage would likely incur then. But if a ship really did ram its way to freedom, damage to the harbor walls would be the very
last
of their worries.

The walls would be done in two weeks and from that point on, a special crew would be in charge of them. Their sole task would be to practice putting the walls up so that they could do so at lightning speed. Gabr volunteered to head the crew and Darius approved it. He could trust that man to see things properly done.

Kaveh and Ramin he put in charge of the city’s protection. In case the bluff failed and they had to light the oil, he wanted lots of water in place to prevent it from spreading. They worked with the local city’s inhabitants to make sure that everyone was prepared to grab up water quickly. He and Navid tackled the unpleasant possibility of street fighting. If, somehow, something went wrong and troops really did land on the docks, Darius didn’t want the city to fall just because he hadn’t been prepared. They bent over a detailed map of Izeh and spent hours discussing tactics and deployment.

They weren’t truly ready to fight a naval battle at this point, but he didn’t mind that. Darius believed that Brindisi would come across land one more time, with a larger force, before they would try their hand at sea. That was part of the reason why he had put his plans for the next land battle into play before even trying to figure out how to fight invaders from the coast.

Because the plans for the land battle had been started well before, it had progressed further. The barriers along the eastern front were all rebuilt and ready for battle. The battlements in the pass were very close to being completed. Another month, at most. Kaveh thought it would actually only take another two weeks, assuming that the fair weather would hold. The mountains’ unpredictable nature made it hard to guess anything. It had been known to snow at the highest peaks even during summer months.

Darius put his forehead down on the cool wood of his desk and let out a long sigh. He’d been right here in this chair for almost two weeks solid, nailing down plans and reading reports, and he didn’t feel like he’d accomplished anything. Even though a lot of work had been done. But unless he saw the progress for himself, it just didn’t seem
real
to him somehow.

Maybe Sego had a point. Maybe getting out and taking a look at the northern battlements would be a good trip for him.

A tap came at his door. Looking up, he called out, “Enter!”

Sego walked inside with the strangest look on his face. He looked…perturbed. In his footsteps was a man that Darius had only met once before. Ashtad of Holdaway, the Master of Spies for the queen.

Darius stood up abruptly, instinctively on edge from this unannounced visit. Ashtad looked just as perturbed as Sego did. Worse, he looked as if he hadn’t rested properly in days. His grey hair stood up in every direction in a deranged style, circles under his eyes, pale skin almost waxy. When Darius had first met him over a month ago, he’d worn a perfectly tailored uniform but now it hung on him as if he had been recently skipping too many meals.

“Ashtad,” Darius greeted with a short nod of the head. “I think you bring me bad news.”

“I don’t know if it’s bad or not,” Ashtad responded with a raspy voice. “It depends on how prepared you are.”

The words did nothing to reassure him. Silently, he waved both men to the table to sit. He fetched three metal goblets and a pitcher of water from a side table and poured them each a glass before joining them. Sego, used to his methods of receiving bad news, took the glass and tossed the water down.

Ashtad regarded it for a moment before picking it up. “So the information about your religious beliefs are true.”

“They are. I think we need all the help we can get.” Pointing to the glass, he gestured for Ashtad to drink up before tossing back his own glass. The pitcher had been placed in the room early this morning, so it had been sitting there for several hours and had become lukewarm. It still felt pleasantly wet against Darius’s throat as it slid down. Taking in a breath, he set the glass deliberately in front of him before meeting Ashtad’s eyes squarely. “What do you know?”

Ashtad also drank the water before speaking. “We just received word from two different spies that I have in Brindisi. You guessed wrong, General. Brindisi just hired a mercenary fleet from Ilam. They sail for our shores in a month.”

Darius rubbed at his throbbing temples, trying to stave off a headache. “Good thing I didn’t bet on it, then. How long will it take for them to reach Izeh Port?”

“A month, if the winds favor them.”

“So two months left to prepare.” Maybe a little more time than that, although he shouldn’t count on it.

“Tell me that you will be ready for them when they arrive,” Ashtad almost pleaded.

“We should be,” he answered almost absently, mind already whirling with logistics and timelines. “We’ve already put many plans into motion. The only thing that I can’t speed up is the arrival of the oil, which is what our whole plan hinges on. But even that is due to arrive at the end of next month.”

“Two weeks before the arrival of the fleet.” Ashtad’s eyes closed in relief. “That should be enough time, surely.”

“Especially since we’re not depending on just that oil.” Darius gave him a reassuring smile. “We’re rationing oil here in Niotan too. It will be well. They won’t catch us unprepared.”

Ashtad let out a low breath, worry draining from his expression. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that, General. Is there anything that I or my department can do to help?”

Darius thought about that for a moment before responding. “Do you know the strength and size of the armada?”

“The message I received was brief,” he apologized with spread hands, “so I have nothing more than the bare facts to give you at this time. The armada is fifteen ships, five of which are Aksaran Corvans, nine Ilam Warships and a Trevel Flagship.”

He let out a low whistle of admiration. Darius had spent half his time in the past few months researching battleships from what resources were in the library. He recognized the ships Ashtad had just rattled off. Aksaran Corvans (named from the bay where they were built and deployed) were the main stay of any fleet. They were mid-size compared to the other ships in the world, with two tiers of rowers to move them about, and they normally held the supplies for the rest of the convoy. Only having five to support ten other ships said that no one expected much resistance from Darius. They would have enough supplies to reach Niotan’s shores, perhaps another few days to plow through any resistance, and then be able to land and re-supply.

Ilam Warships were considered to be the light cavalry of the open sea. They were smaller, requiring only a hundred rowers, but they were highly maneuverable. They could also fit in the narrow sea passages that most ships couldn’t, making them the ideal ship to use to deploy marines with.  The fact that they took up the bulk of the armada clearly said what state of mind their commander was in:
attack
.

The Trevel Flagship, though, that worried Darius. No ship on the open sea could compete in sheer size. It stood three levels tall, with rowers on each level, and could house several complements of marines without strain. If that ship chose to ram the hollow “gate” on the harbor wall, it could smash through it easily.

My bluffing skills just became vital.
Trying not to worry more than he needed to, he asked, “Do you know who their commander is?”

Ashtan shook his head regretfully. “You now know as much as I do. I have, of course, requested more information but it’ll take weeks to get here. Are you
sure
you can withstand a convoy like this?”

“I’d planned on anywhere from fifteen to twenty ships,” Darius assured him.
Just not the Trevel Flagship.
“For one thing, the Izeh Port can’t hold more than that and still give room to maneuver.”

“A good point, General. Then…,” he stood and offered a half-bow. “With your permission, I want to go back to work.”

“Certainly. But take tonight and get some good rest, alright?” Darius smiled to soften his words as he didn’t want to sound nagging. “I need your mind at its sharpest.”

Ashtan blinked, a little startled, but a rueful smile tugged at his mouth. “I will do so. Shaa’s blessings with you, Bresalier.”

Darius gave him a thankful nod for the blessing, so rarely heard this far from home. “My thanks.”
I’ll need it.

As soon as Ashtan had turned and left the room, Sego gave him a penetrating look. “You don’t think we can win this easily.”

“You’ve gotten far too good at reading me,” Darius responded mildly, already scribbling out a note to call his staff to him for an emergency meeting. “No, I think that our plan will still work.”

“Then why do you look worried?”

“That flagship is outside of my expectations,” he admitted frankly. “We’re going to need a lot more oil.”

Darius walked through the hallways of the palace, heading back to his suite after a meeting with the queen. He felt like he’d had a constant headache threatening ever since hearing that they were under imminent threat of being invaded through Izeh Port. His leisurely plans of preparing had suddenly been sped up and now, if he didn’t have three very good commanders to depend on, he’d have lost control of all of it.

He took in a breath and let it out, then repeated it, trying to calm himself down. When a man got into too much of a hurry to think things through, some very fatal mistakes were made. He, of all people, had to stay in control. He glanced at the runner faithfully dogging his footsteps and asked, “Payam, the queen said that the price for oil is skyrocketing because of our rationing. How bad is it?”

“Bad,” Payam admitted with a grimace. “Shade finder’s say a drop of oil dickers for eight coppers.”

Ouch. A month ago, a
bottle
of oil would go for that price. “The common people can’t afford that.”

Payam nodded glumly. “Any burnies goin for steep.”

It made sense. If oil was taken away from you, then the common man would search for the next substitute. Darius imagined that not one abandoned stick of wood could be found in this city. This situation wouldn’t last much longer, not more than another month or so, but he still didn’t like for the people to suffer like this. Oil sometimes meant not being able to eat or not having enough light or heat in the evening. He rubbed at his chin as he thought. “We need to think of a different approach to this…,” he trailed off as a familiar voice came from up ahead.