The Saints of the Sword (54 page)

“Lovely,” the baroness laughed, clapping her hands. “Purely delicious!” She cast Gayle a sultry grin. “You have thought of everything, sweet king. I am most impressed.”

Gayle grinned. “You see? It is like a giant game board, my friends. One merely needs to position the pieces properly. They say that Emperor Biagio is a master of the game. They say he is a genius at strategy. But his genius killed my boy, Blackwood.”

“Tassis, you haven’t answered my question,” said Wallach. “When will you move against the Eastern Highlands?”

Gayle sighed. “It is complicated, my friend. You’re a political animal; surely you can see my meaning.”

“I see you moving your pieces across the board,” said the duke, “but I do not see a strategy. I have spent a fortune
getting ready for this. Forgive me, but I am anxious to avenge Sabrina.”

“And my brother,” added Baroness Ricter. “Please, sweet king, tell us what to expect.”

Gayle felt Redd’s shadow fall over his shoulder. His servant had been hovering nearby, waiting to come to his aid.

“It’s all right, Redd,” said the king. He turned to Mardek. “Major? You have something to report?”

Mardek stood. “My lord, we crossed the river as you ordered. As you suspected, we were seen by the Highlanders. It was Redburn himself who came out to greet us.”

Gayle leaned back, laughing. “The prince? Splendid! What did the savage say to you, then?”

“He ordered us off his land. His sister Breena was with him. She threatened us with a sword.”

It was too perfect. Gayle said a silent prayer of thanks.

“You claimed you were looking for spies?”

“Yes, my lord. Redburn didn’t believe us, of course, but I made it clear that we suspected them, and that we would keep watching. I warned them that any more interference in Talistan would be dealt with severely.”

“Wonderful. Oh, you did very well, Major. I am pleased.”

Across the table, Wallach and the baroness glanced at each other.

“I don’t understand,” said Wallach. “Why not just attack the Highlands? Why are you wasting time with this nonsense?”

“Because,” purred the baroness, “he can’t. Not yet.” She ran her finger over the rim of her glass. “Tell me, King Tassis, what would happen if you invaded the Highlands without provocation? What would be the reaction in Dahaar, let’s say? Or in Goss?”

Gayle grinned. “You understand me perfectly, don’t you, dear lady?”

“Alliances, Duke Wallach,” she went on to explain. “Vosk has no alliance with Talistan. We are all supposed to be committed to the Black City. And territories like Dahaar are committed to Biagio. They would never let us invade the Highlands, not without an outcry.”

“So?” snapped Wallach. “What do we care? We are strong.”

“Not strong enough,” said Gayle. “Dahaar and the others might move against us if we invade the Highlands without provocation. We must be seen to be defending ourselves.” He stared at the duke. “Now do you understand?”

“It is time consuming,” said Wallach. “And from what I hear of Redburn, he is devoted to peace. What if he never strikes against Talistan? What then?”

“Oh, he’ll strike,” chuckled Gayle. He stole a glance at Mardek. “Don’t you think so, Major?”

“As sure as the sun rises in the morning, my lord.”

“You see, Wallach,” Gayle continued, “we have some surprises for young Prince Redburn. Eventually, he will attack us. And when he does …”

“We will have the excuse we need to invade the Eastern Highlands,” said Baroness Ricter.

Gayle raised his glass to her. “Smart
and
lovely.”

Suddenly he was feeling wonderfully well. His mind was his own again, at least temporarily, and even Duke Wallach, who could be horribly obtuse, was beginning to understand things. The delicate balance of their schemes kept Tassis Gayle focused. He knew he had to hold onto it with teeth and fingernails to keep his mind from fogging over. Grief had taken away his wits—but vengeance would restore them.

“So we wait?” asked Wallach. “That’s it?”

“Your daughter’s corpse is cold already, Duke,” said Gayle. “What will a few more weeks matter?”

“And it will give you time to get your navy in place,” added Mardek. “I do not share Captain Zerio’s optimism. Nicabar will come if Biagio asks him to. If you’d ever seen the
Fearless
, you would be moving more quickly, Duke Wallach.”

Wallach crossed his arms. “I have purchased the best guns and ammunition for my ships. The best crews, too. I am not afraid of Nicabar, Major. He will not sail for Talistan with a full fleet, because he will not expect us to resist him.”

“He will come with the
Fearless
,” Mardek reminded him.

“One ship?” Wallach scoffed. “I think you overestimate the
Fearless
, Major.”

Mardek grinned. “If you say so.”

“We are done here,” declared Gayle. He pushed back his chair and stood, eager to leave while his mind was still clear. The others rose at his cue. “Thank you for coming,” he told them. “Make yourselves at home for as long as you like. Even you, Wallach. I’m sure your ‘project’ can survive without you for a day or so.”

The duke seemed relieved. “You’re very gracious, Tassis. My leg, after all …”

“Yes,” drawled Gayle. He turned to Baroness Ricter. “My lady? May I escort you? We have many excellent sights here in the House of Gayle.”

“My lord is generous with his time,” said the baroness, putting out her hand. “I could do with some decent company.”

Gayle began leading her from the room, then saw Redd give him a cautionary head-shake. Gayle scowled at the man. He would be fine. Being with the baroness would ease his loneliness. So he pushed past Redd and led the baroness out into the hallway, hurrying her away from the meeting room. Outside, the rain continued to fall. Gayle could hear it tapping against the leaded glass windows.

“I will show you the indoor arbor,” he said. “My daughter Calida loved it there.”

“I would like that very much,” said the baroness. “And tell me about your son, as well. I never had the chance to meet the baron.”

Gayle sighed as he hooked his arm around her. “Oh, Blackwood was a good boy,” he said. “Sweet, too. Like honey …”

T
en nautical miles off the coast of Liss, the
Fearless
and her strike fleet bobbed on the waves. The
Dread Sovereign
, along with
Black City
and
Infamous
, stood at anchor beside her, while a dozen other ships circled at various ranges, never straying far from their flagship. It was just past sundown and the wind was fair. A clear sky revealed the moon and a plethora of stars. The Hundred Isles of Liss loomed on the southern horizon, and the ocean was empty of schooners. Only the
Fearless
and her wolf pack prowled the waves.

At the request of Admiral Nicabar, Kasrin had gone aboard the
Fearless
for a last-minute strategy session. He had ordered the
Sovereign
to pull up alongside the flagship and had taken a dingy across, a journey that might have been dangerous but for the placid sea. Kasrin now sat in a tiny room aboard the
Fearless
, staring at Captain L’Rago. The commander of the
Infamous
leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head, obnoxiously chewing tobacco. Other than L’Rago, only Captain Gark of the
Black City
was in the chamber. Feliks of the
Colossus
was nowhere to be found, nor was Amado of the
Angel
. Surprisingly, neither was Nicabar. Kasrin looked around the chamber, trying to avoid L’Rago’s stares. He had never liked the young captain, and sharing such close quarters irritated him.

Where the hell is Nicabar?
wondered Kasrin.

He had expected the summons to come aboard. It had been a long and tiresome trip from Casarhoon without any chance for the captains to confer. Now, on the eve of striking, Nicabar wanted their plans solidified. It was standard procedure, Kasrin knew. So why was he so nervous?

It had been frighteningly easy to convince Nicabar to join him. The admiral’s hatred of Liss had blinded him to reason. And the guilt Kasrin felt for deceiving his old mentor had not ebbed during the long sea voyage. Even now he thought of revealing the truth, giving his hero one last chance to save himself. But then he remembered Jelena. Saving Nicabar would certainly mean her doom, and that didn’t seem like a fair trade at all.

Finally, after an interminable silence, the door opened and Nicabar entered. He had a great smile on his face, and when he saw Kasrin his eyes lit up.

“Greetings, men,” he said. “Thank you for coming aboard.”

He sat down at the head of the table. The entry of the big man made the tiny room shrink precipitously. There was no food or drink to clutter things, and no pipes to enjoy. The only tobacco was in L’Rago’s mouth, making a disgusting squishing sound. Nicabar wasted no time. Across the table he laid the map Kasrin had given him. Each of the captains leaned forward to study it.

“Tomorrow our long journey comes to an end,” said Nicabar. He punched a finger at the map. “Karalon.”

L’Rago nodded. “Beautiful. I never thought I’d see this day.”

“Nor did I,” admitted Gark. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Though I must admit, here we are.”

“Thanks to Kasrin,” said Nicabar. “Without him, this strike would be impossible.”

Kasrin tried not to color. He saw L’Rago scowl at him.

“We still don’t know if this is a Lissen trick,” said the captain of the
Infamous
. “No offense, Kasrin, but that Lissen you tortured might have sold you a lie. You might get into that passage only to find that there is no Karalon. There may not even be a passage.”

“It’s no trick,” said Kasrin. “I’m handy enough with a
knife to know when someone is lying to me. That sailor I captured was telling the truth. This map is no lie.”

“No indeed,” said Nicabar, glaring at L’Rago. “Kasrin has accomplished something none of us ever could. I think your jealousy is showing, L’Rago.”

L’Rago scowled.

“Now, I won’t keep you all any longer than necessary,” said Nicabar, “but there are a few things we need to go over before tomorrow.” The admiral traced his finger over the map. “That’s the Serpent’s Strand. According to Kasrin, it’s wide and deep enough for the dreadnoughts; even the
Fearless
. But we have to enter at the high tide, or we’ll be fighting the current the whole way. Kasrin and the
Sovereign
will lead the way. The
Fearless
will follow them in. Sail two lengths ahead of us and keep it slow, Kasrin, understand?”

“Absolutely.”

“Gark, you’ll be in command of the strike force while I’m gone,” the admiral continued. “Keep
Black City
four or five miles off the coast. Don’t get too near the estuary. Anything that alerts the Lissens might put the
Fearless
and
Sovereign
in peril.”

“Understood,” said Gark.

“L’Rago, I want you to circle wide. The
Infamous
is the fastest ship we have. You’ll be keeping an eye on the mainland. If you see any Lissen ships, rendezvous with Gark at once.”

“I still think I should come with you, sir,” said L’Rago. “Any ship can patrol the armada. But the
Infamous
is small enough to maneuver that passage with you. If we hang back a bit—”

“Those are my orders, Captain,” said Nicabar. “You will carry them out to the letter. Gark and the others will be depending on you. It might look quiet now, but we’re still in Liss. Kasrin, you’re going to take up position on the south side of Karalon. The
Fearless
will cover the north side with her guns. Once we’re in position, we’ll fire a few shots to show them we’re serious. After they feel our cannons, they’ll surrender the island.”

“And if they don’t?” asked Gark.

Nicabar grinned. “Then we will blow them away.”

Kasrin stared at the map. It didn’t matter to Nicabar whether or not he actually captured Karalon, so long as he killed as many Lissens as possible.

“After we take the island, the
Fearless
will hold it. When the tide shifts, the
Dread Sovereign
will come back out of the Strand and signal the rest of you. We’re going to take control of this waterway first. Gark, I want the
Black City
and
Colossus
to hammer away at the estuary. Any resistance, knock it down. L’Rago, this will be your chance for some action. As soon as you can, I want you to sail down the Serpent’s Strand for Karalon. You’ll have to wait for the high tide again, but don’t stop for anything, understood? If something gets in your way, blow it to pieces.”

“With pleasure,” said L’Rago.

“Gark, the rest of the fleet will take up positions along the Strand. But you and Feliks have to hold the estuary. Think you can do that?”

“We shall do it, Admiral.” Besides the
Fearless, Black City
and
Colossus
were the biggest ships in the force.

“Good.” Nicabar retrieved the map and started rolling it up again. “Then we’re done. Return to your ships and make ready. Gark and L’Rago, inform the other captains of our plans.”

They all rose to leave, but before Kasrin could exit, Nicabar stopped him.

“Kasrin,” bid the admiral. He waited until Gark and L’Rago were gone, then smiled. “I want to talk with you.”

Kasrin braced himself. “Sir?”

“Come with me,” said the admiral. He left the map on the table and led Kasrin out of the chamber, through the warship’s cramped corridors, up a gang ladder, then finally out onto the deck. They were near the stern of the vessel, with a gentle wake churning behind them. Overhead, the half-furled sails strained at the yards. Kasrin could see Gark and L’Rago departing from little rowboats off the portside. Nicabar kept walking toward the rear of the ship. Captain Blasco was there, standing beside a crate. The captain of the
Fearless
grinned. On the crate sat a bottle and two crystal goblets.

“Thank you, Captain,” said Nicabar. “You’re dismissed.”

The officer left without a word. Nicabar picked up the bottle and studied the vintage in the moonlight. Kasrin almost laughed at the romantic venue.