Tanayon Born Page 2

  “Unnatural? You surprise me.”

  “You surprise me, Soma. You are murdering strangers, enemies yes, and I am glad they are gone. But it is the worst kind of murder and will call all that we do into question.”

  “I mean to save everyone. Everyone along the Bessradi River and within the capital itself. You cannot ask me to stop.”

  “No. But I can deny you the ingredient you need. The supply I gifted you will run out.”

  “You would do that?”

  “For the duration of this voyage, yes. The vote to restore Enhedu’s place upon the Council is far from certain. Let us survive this trip and populate the seas with your ships. When my place upon the Council is secure and you can tell me it is no longer possible for Enhedu to be attacked by sea, you will have both my blessing and whatever supply of my blood you require. Agreed?”

  “You will let me mend Bessradi before we leave, if you are successful?”

  He started to say no, but checked himself. “After the vote, you may. I have no desire to preserve the thralls undoubtedly still in Bessradi—but the vote …”

  “No need to explain. Every person aboard has heard at least a half-dozen renditions of the motions you and Selt hope to force onto the Council’s docket. We know the importance of your goals.”

  “Very well, Soma,” he said, bowed, and left me to my ship.

  I would have minded the agreement, but there was plenty to do aboard. All the year’s many efforts would be wasted if we did not arrive in time for Barok to attend the meeting. I was a day ahead of schedule but still had the turn east into the Bergion to contend with, the long trip north upon the river, and the bridges my masts would not clear.

  I took my cues regarding the weather that next set of days from the many small ships out fishing the deep waters. They were ragged crafts crewed by half-starved slaves. They never strayed very far from the coast, and none ever hailed us. We were very near the Kuetish dot upon the map labeled Falesh when all the tiny ships cut bait and turned for home. I ordered both of my ships in after them at best speed and found a sheltered harbor in time to watch a fierce squall darken the sea and sky.

  I could not figure out how those men knew the storm was coming and would have hired on a few of the locals if I’d had time enough to go ashore. The storm blew hard and tossed great waves against the shoulder of rock that sheltered the harbor. The Kingfisher was blown halfway toward the beach, and Mercanfur had to rig a second anchor to keep from going aground.

  The storm exhausted itself that same afternoon. The sun made a sudden appearance, the winds mellowed, and the locals headed back to their boats. They debated which of them would come out to greet us, but I could not suffer the courtesy. The storm cost us half a day. I got us headed east without so much as a hello.

  A nervousness spread through the crew, and there would be no cure for it until we saw Enhedu’s pennant raised over the Chancellery in Bessradi.

  I sailed us below Bendent’s Urmand, out of sight of the coast, and turned us north during a fresh gale that tore up from the cold depths of the Bergion. The crew applauded me when the wide delta of the river appeared before us, but it was not a master’s trick of navigation. The delta was immense. Standing on one bank, you could not see the other side.

  My ships did not mind running before such a wind, and we made up a bit of time as we raced toward Escandi.

  The cover of clouds that came with the frigid wind worried me. The river was wide, but not so wide that it could be navigated through the night without moon, stars, or signal fires ashore.

  “Urmandish pigs,” I said and spat over the rail, same as I always had whenever I’d gotten this far south with a barge. The Urmandish kept no lights south of Escandi.

  “Admiral,” the helmsman said. “I’m losing our bearing.”

  I did not immediately respond. I set aside the map I was considering by a lantern’s dim light and tried to find myself upon the river.

  There was not much light left in the sky. The high hill off to the north fit into my memory. The river angled west as though it meant to bend around its left side, but it would not be long before it turned east and circled around the right side of the hill as though it was drawn with chalk and string. The shifting currents there could drive us quickly ashore.

  “Hail the Kingfisher,” I ordered. “We’re throwing her a line and she is to take in all sails.”

  The crew knew something was afoot. All hands and some of the passengers were on deck when we started towing our sister ship.

  “Helmsman, you are relieved,” I said, and took hold of the heavy tiller. “Extinguish all lights.”

  We were still under full sail and carving up into the steady current of the Bessradi River when the darkness of night crowded in around us.

  I closed my eyes and felt the wind and the push of the river.

  Someone forward started a conversation. Boatswain Rindsfar’s wrath silenced the deck.

  “Deep enough in the center,” I whispered to myself and savored the time that followed. It was a black and endless night. The cold wind chased up my back, and the capital’s river rushed at us.

  When to make the turn east? I stopped trying to judge it and let the tug upon the tiller, the wind, and the push of the river tell me.

  The current calmed. We were out of the channel. I called the crew to adjust sail and turned us to starboard. The Whittle did it with grace, despite the ship we tugged behind us.

  It seemed we must be flying, the way the wind pushed, but no. It was a slow move up through the black of night. The Whittle’s prow and keel told me everything—the depth of the water and the direction of the current. I ignored the wind and the sails. I ignored the ship we towed. I closed my eyes, felt the river, and edged us slowly around the great turn. It went on for an eternity.

  “Admiral,” called the lookout. “Lights ahead. Must be Escandi.”

  The river did not make us wait long before delivering us close enough to learn the truth. The barges tied on in Escandi’s harbor, and the men who owned them were the same ones who’d stolen my business and forced my family to flee the Kaaryon. If I’d had the time, I would have gone ashore and burned them all.

  To the northwest, I could see the next shore light, and I turned us to follow the ghostly course of the great river. Escandi never knew we were there.

  The worry removed, I settled back to the careful movement of the ships and my plans for getting us beneath Bessradi’s bridges.

  I slept at first light but not for long. The bright light of day filled the river with skiffs, boats, and barges that no captain would ever trust them to keep right of way. I ignored their hails and flew no pennant until a war galley with two hundred oars moved to cut us off. The Yentif colors I raised stalled him long enough for us to get up river. The galley’s captain may have called for us to stop, but I couldn’t quite hear him at that distance. I sent up pennants asking him to repeat his last. He may have signaled for us to stop, but by the time he found the pennant for it, the distance between us made it hard to judge. He rowed after us for a time, but as long as the Bergion blew cold air up the Kaaryon’s skirt, no craft upon the Bessradi River could match our pace.

  The setting sun saw us to the one bridge that crossed the river south of Bessradi. It had massive abutments, seventeen sharp cutwaters, and eighteen low arches. The city of Gheem and the bridge were a site of a pilgrimage—the greatest work of the prophet Urmand Zovi. I’d believed the story of its origins until I’d seen the same abutments and arches upon Urnedi’s river. The bridge was older than the Zoviyan Empire.

  I laughed lightly. It had taken the empire four centuries to begin to catch up to the craft and engineering of the Edonians they’d murdered. Nowhere, except perhaps in Enhedu, were there men capable of building a bridge such as this.

  I called all hands as we grew close. The crews were ready. We anchored as close to the west bank as we could, just shy of the bridge. Boats went ashore, the crews setup block and tackle upon the
bridge, and with some effort, both ships were hauled carefully up to the bridges. Both were tied on securely, and we began the delicate operation of taking down our masts. Sails, rigging, and spars disappeared below, while four cranes were assembled upon the bridges.

  Captains Horace and Furstundish the Senior were among those happy to be ashore. They each took command of several troops, and with vigor and loud voices, they rushed off to set a guard upon each end of the bridge. Barok was convinced that his cousin from Gheem would pay us a visit, but the man must have been away. I was more worried about a troublesome bailiff, but none of the locals challenged us, and the river traffic steered clear.

  Four cranes went up and the masts were unstepped and hoisted away. Iron shoes filled the empty spaces in the keels. It was like yanking the wings off of falcons. None of us liked the sight of the tall masts lying upon the decks instead of saluting the sky. Cargo from below was brought up on deck, and the figureheads and lacquered rails went below.

  Dawn was coloring the sky when the cranes came down. The crews hurried back aboard, and the chain pumps began to fill the lower holds with water. It sickened me as we sank into the river.

  When we untied from the bridges and weighed anchor, we were two of the ugliest barges ever seen. Our oars sat wrong and too steep, our keels threatened to find the bottom, and the fore and aftcastles made no sense whatsoever upon the river. But our ships sat low, and we passed beneath the bridge.

  We rowed north through the rest of the day. There was still a half peg of light left in the sky when we set eyes upon the capital, and Barok had all the time until dawn to present himself at the Chancellery.

  73

  Crown Prince Evand Yentif

  The 94th of Summer, 1196

  “Do you remember the first evening we walked here and you saw the crowds?” Liv asked. The question was meant to erase my frown. It worked instantly, but I could not let her think she knew me that well.

  “No.”

  “Bah. Liar. You remember. It was just after the Akal-Tak races, wasn’t it?”

  “As far back as that?” I asked and hid my growing smile by hugging her tight.

  She swatted my arms away from her swollen breasts. “Ouch. Gentle.”

  “Sorry,” I said and made good the apology by rubbing her shoulders—right there along the crowded riverfront for all the world to see. A sermod scowled at us for being eastern savages, but the rest of the holiday-ready crowd smiled.

  “What were you saying?” I asked.

  She turned, wrapped me in her arms, and laid her head upon my shoulder. “I was remembering the first time we walked along the river after the Akal-Tak race and you saw all the slaves crossing the bridge back into the warrens. You thought Bessradi had been invaded. You raced us back to the house, started cobbling together a suit of armor, and told poor Kalyn to go scout the enemy.”

  “He went, too, didn’t he?” I laughed softly.

  “Like the good soldier you trained him to be. Good thing for you he is the forgiving kind.”

  “He wasn’t very happy when he came back, was he?”

  “No,” she said, laughed, and led me down the last of the steps of the brief plaza toward the railing above the river’s edge.

  The smell of the water and the nearby docks kept the spot private enough. I waved at the levy commander on post farther along the shoring whose half company kept the peace along Ash Row. He was a good man. So were most of his men.

  I let out my anger in a heavy breath.

  She looked at the commander with interest. “You have a new plan?”

  “No,” I said. “I have no plan. The Hemari belong to the Bellion now, and my father is unreachable. I’d need the kind of wealth Sahin stole to hire men enough to secure the city. No one would follow me by choice.”

  “Still no idea what happened to your messenger?”

  “None. Kalyn thinks he and everyone else who ever knew me is dead or in hiding. And whatever the case, I have no way to deliver a message to my father.”

  “You’re not telling me something. Why so sad today?”

  “You do know me,” I said.

  “I love you,” she said and took hold of me before I could avoid the topic by continuing our walk. “I’m not going to let you dodge the question, either. What has happened?”

  “They are going to declare me dead,” I said.

  “Who?”

  “The Sten’s court. Yarik is bringing a case tomorrow morning to have me declared dead. We might as well pack our things, buy a horse ranch somewhere, and disappear.”

  “I’d go anywhere with you,” she said.

  “Would you? What about Yarik?”

  “Bessradi can have him. I’m happy with you. This summer has been something from a dream. You have proven to be a poor outlaw, but I’m happy in your arms—especially since you’ve gotten yourself so fit sparring with Kalyn. Now what were you saying about us running away?”

  “My place is here, love,” I said, but my thoughts drifted to the vast tracks of my cousin’s land in the Halberdon. A quiet place, all things considered. My cousin had lived a better life than most.

  I rubbed her shoulders some more while the sad people of the warrens walked through the sunset to their homes.

  “You should release your crew,” she said.

  “What crew?”

  She stepped out of my hands and punched me hard on the shoulder. Her eyes were full of venom.

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Your slaves. The men you bought to crew your barge. They are amongst the men who cross the bridge every day. Slaves are not allowed to sleep on this side of the river.”

  “Who? What? What slaves?” I asked and then gripped my forehead in shame. “Oh, my lord in heaven. All season they’ve been … doing what?”

  “Keeping your barge ready and sleeping in alleys. They have no other purpose. Your dock fee pays for their food and the bridge toll. We have been walking along the river half the summer, and you did not realize this?”

  “No. I … why would I?”

  “Turn around,” she said and pointed me at the crowd. “What choice do they have?”

  I watched them walk along the massive stone arch. My soldier’s eyes started grouping the slaves by company. I had to group them by regiment. I counted to 30,000. I knew how long it took for all of them to cross. I’d watched them do it a hundred times. I did the math, and my mouth hung open stupidly.

  “Over a million of them? What do they do?”

  “Love? What do you think they do? They do everything.”

  “I know nothing at all about the world I live in.”

  “Love, hush.”

  “It’s true. I’m no more fit to rule the world of men than Yarik,” I said.

  Liv took me by the collar and kissed me. “I did not follow you here to be the first wife of an Exaltier.”

  First wife?

  Where did my father keep his wives? I’d never considered the question before. What were their lives like?

  Liv had thought about it a great deal. She did not want to be a Yentif wife or a Yentif whore. She’d be no better off than one of the slaves trudging to and fro across the river.

  “We are not fit—none of us,” I said. “What kind of men notice nothing of the sorrow around them?”

  She stayed quiet, and let me stare out across the river.

  Most of our evenings had ended there. It was the joke I liked to play on Bessradi—a crown prince hiding in plain sight. The criers began calling the faithful to prayer. It was our cue to head back, but a sight stopped me cold.

  A pair of the ugliest barges I’d ever seen were rowing awkwardly up the river. The forward deck of the first was crowded, and I spotted a man amongst them that I recognized instantly, but it wasn’t until the barges had passed that I understood what it meant.

  Glad to see you back, brother.

  The timing of his appearance and the case Yarik was taking before the Sten’s court stabbed me through the head.
Yarik would be the crown prince come the morning, and the only thing between him and the throne was our father’s beating heart and a majority vote upon the Council of Lords.

  I knew what I had to do.

  “He is making his move,” I said to Liv.

  “Who?”

  “Oh, Liv. All of them.” I said. “We must be moving. Tomorrow will be a day like no other.”

  74

  Madam Dia Yentif

  Fana Furstundish

  The arrival of Colonel Kennculli on the 88th was a pleasant surprise. He and Gern found Fana and me in the great hall with Pemini, Umera, and Lilly. The evening’s rain had made a mess of the colonel, but this did not stop Pemini from giving Bohn such a fantastic hug that the reason for his arrival was momentarily lost to their reunion.

  “I didn’t know you were back at Urnedi,” Bohn said.

  “Just while Geart is away,” she said. “And what about you? A colonel so fast. Tosen would be in tears.”

  I could not imagine it, though the two of them were wearing smiles that were just as unbelievable. Our gathering enjoyed the sight.

  Lilly had hold of Clea and extended the small bundle up toward Bohn. “She smiles when you laugh.”

  Gern wasn’t smiling, and his mood did not go missed by anyone.

  “Time to get the girls to bed, Lilly,” Umera said, and they made their way up.

  Fana stayed, but it was a wonder that she did. She was two seasons pregnant but looked a full third. I would have made some mention of her condition if she did not suffer similar jibes from others all day long. The staff and garrison were taking bets on whether she was going to have twins or triplets. The smart wager was on the latter—though you could not tell her condition from how she ran the place. The scribes in the gallery above were her personal army, and with Barok and Selt away, she outranked every person in Enhedu, save her husband.

  I said to him, “I trust it is not the rain that has you so upset? All is well in the Oreol?”