The Vastness

by Hausladen, Blake;

  I laid my bluecoat across a sedan and started to pull off my uniform.

  “Slower,” she said and smiled when I started working the buttons one at a time.

  She looked me up and down while one piece of clothing after another collected around me. I stepped in behind her when I was done and pressed my naked hips against her backside. I took hold of her waist and she reached between her legs to guide me in. She was flush and wet, and after a probing thrust, I slide in as deep as I would go.

  Someone knocked on the door, and I paused.

  “Don’t you dare,” she said, pushed half the maps off the far side of the table, and stretched out her arms. I stroked her head and her back until she found a comfortable pose. She pushed against me, and I took firm hold of her hips. It had become our favorite way to start, and I got to it with the vigor she demanded.

  But she was not responding, and I opened my eyes to see that she was examining a map that had not made its way over the edge. It was a draft of my plan to assault the barracks across the river and kill General Sonsol. Written upon it was the list of Hemari officers that stood with him the day he betrayed us on the floor of the Council of Lords.

  “What the hell is this?” she asked.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Do not you lie to me, Evand Yentif. You mean to attack Sonsol,” she said and turned. I could not keep myself inside her. “What do you care about some petty general?”

  “He is no petty general. He is the man who betrayed the Hemari. His death would proclaim that the Hemari oath still means something. We are loyal to the death. The Hemari in Alsonelm and Alsonvale will rally to us. We don’t need these slaves. We need the Hemari.”

  “You are still fighting the last war,” she said. “Is this what you took to Rahan today? You were there all morning. Don’t tell me he agreed with you.”

  I didn’t answer her.

  “He wouldn’t see you.”

  I growled and tried to step away, but she would not let go.

  “Good. Do not propose this plan to him. He might let you do it, and I would hate you both for your pride.”

  She leaned her long body against mine. She still had hold of me but her grip became a gentle stroking.

  “Are you listening to me? You are more than your pride. So much more.”

  She hopped up onto the table, right on top of my map, and wrapped her legs around me. I might have protested, but she jammed me back inside and leaned back onto the table. Her body was hot with anger and the daggers in her eyes cut across me as she set herself back upon her elbows.

  My mind was on the map she’d sat on. She saw my distraction and slapped me. I protested and she slapped me a second time on the opposite cheek.

  “Your attention is here,” she said and made to slap me again.

  “What about the baby?”

  “You know nothing of women. Get to work before I change my mine.”

  I slammed her as hard as I could and she adjusted her legs in response to invite me to do better. The drums of war galleys began to thump a sprint outside. I yanked her partway over the edge of the table and pounded her with the maddened rhythm of the drums.

  “I hate those damned galleys,” I said.

  “I hate distractions,” she replied, took hold of a leather map tube, and lashed me with it hard enough to raise long welts across my shoulder and hip.

  A team of drummers could not have kept pace what came next. Her eyes closed and the tube fell from her hand. She cooed and gasped until she was out of air. I lost myself, too, and the finish I found inspired a long rolling laugh and several tears.

  I stumbled back, and she jumped off the table wearing a layer of maps. She yanked me to the bed while we peeled the vellums sheets away and we fell into a tumble of blankets. I had no good sense of which bits were hers and which were mine. She wrapped one of my hands around her growing stomach. Warmth ruled us, and my eyes closed.

  We lay entwined there until hunger scaled the walls of our comfort. We debated a raid upon the kitchens for some hot food, but the ready plate in the foyer became our target. It was decided that I lead the mission. It was a quick attack, and we were pleased with the prisoners I took. We proceeded to give the bits of cheese and bread names as we ate them.

  We were halfway through a long list of names and out of wine when she pushed the plate away and huddled the blankets up around us. I slept through the long and wonderful night wrapped in her arm. When dawn threatened, I was no less eager for the long embrace to continue.

  “I love the quiet,” she said. “What does Blathebed have them doing this morning that it is so peaceful?”

  The question filled me with alarm, and I noticed the absence of camp noises for the first time. “The division should be up and doing drills like any other day.”

  We unwrapped ourselves and moved to the window. The galleys were returning and the men were making their way up from the harbor.

  “They sailed west?” I said.

  Liv read my mind and found the right map from the wide-flung collection. I retrieved the last of the bread and poured the last of the wine into a bowl for us to soften the hard crust. The bread vanished while we stared at the west branch of the river, but the time did me no good. I could think of no good reason for their move.

  “Perhaps it is something to do with the landowners along the shore who lost their slaves?” Liv suggested. “Would are any of them be organized enough to seize freemen and press them into labor?”

  “Blathebed wouldn’t rush off to rescue slaves.”

  Liv stepped away from the table. “Your ability to turn people off will lock more and more doors until they are all closed to you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She turned her back on me and moved back into the bedroom. I started after her but a wave of heat cooked my flesh as though I’d stepped into an oven. I staggered into the doorframe. Liv fell across the bed.

  The heat went as fast as it came. The angry welts upon my shoulder and hip were gone. “Healing magic,” I said and closed by eyes to enjoy it.

  Liv woke me with an armful of clothes. “We’ve have been in here long enough.”

  We hurried out and across to Rahan’s tower, and learned on the way that there had been a battle somewhere on the tithe road to Kuet. We were out of breath when we reached the audience chamber. The doors were open and the scene inside was bedlam compared to the composure Rahan demanded. He stood in the center of the room as though he had leapt off of his throne to join Emi, Blathebed, and his officers in the center of the space. The hem of his robe was torn, and his usual phalanx of advisers and provincial lackeys had been pressed back. His was grinning like a boy arriving at academy as he held the general’s arm, and waved us to join them before encouraging his general to continue.

  “It was terrible,” Blathebed said with as big a grin as Rahan’s. He winked at Emi’s once and handed a roll of vellum to my brother. I got a look over his shoulder as words poured from Blathebed like wine from nobleman’s decanter.

  “We did the opposite of everything we’ve been taught. We advanced without scouts. We kept the men tight and walked—we walked nice and easy south behind their positions. She could see the men of their half camps and every disorganized picket. They had no riders out and no one guarding their rear. We moved 20,000 men by the thin light of the moon and Emi’s drawing. I’d intended to hunker down and try them at dawn, but the boys arrived in fantastic order. The sergeants, my lord, they did a fine accounting. 20,000 men. In the dark! We set a line behind their camps, I drew my sword, and we marched on them—quiet. And the boys from the Warrens, they were silent as mice as we crept across the wide field. We got close enough to smell their wine and hear them snoring. The order! Oh, how I will remember it. Charge, I yelled, and the boys let fly like demons shot from catapults. And the damnedest thing, my lord, you would never believe it. Instead of searching the madness with my eyes, I sat down in that muddy field and watched Emi draw. She filled sheet aft
er sheet. See, see here and here ...”

  Rahan hurried to a table and Blathebed laughed along with him while they got the sheets into order. I cannot speak for my brother, but Blathebed’s next great exposition didn’t make it into my ears as I studied the sequence.

  The thick line of Blathebed’s force moved like a falling block of stone. The Urmandish died by the thousands and scattered in every direction in their efforts to flee the surprise attack. More than half were captured and only a handful escaped, if any, judging by the last drawing.

  Tray full of food arrived and the room dissembled to celebration. A captain began a fresh recounting of the tale and I lost sight of Liv and Emi. The insignia upon the officer’s shoulders were new—a yellow circle sewn with six black spears tied with a purple band. Other officers in the room were similarly patches, and all of them were men from the Warrens. Blathebed had formed a new division of Hemari and was filling its ranks with slaves. Madness!

  “A fine thing he is doing, yes?” Rahan said and pointed at the unearned yellow circles. He was smiling. I was sickened when he waved in others like the poorly-made captain. I was saved from introductions when Liv caught my eye, and I used the excuse to abandon Rahan to his vermin. She was not after only me, however, and she made me standby while she extracted the Rahan and Blathebed as well.

  “Emi begs a word,” she said and Rahan was euphoric enough to allow it. The decorum of the audience chamber was left a shamble behind us, but no one seemed concerned as the celebration continued.

  Liv guided us to a small ante-chamber and we found Emi inside.

  “We’ve been talking,” Liv said as she closed the door. Blathebed made the mistake of a worried look. Liv did not miss it and her expression threatened violence. I clamped my mouth shut and sat in the nearest chair. Rahan joined me and the general was wise enough follow our example.

  Liv at across from us and said, “Evand has been working on a plan for attacking across the river in force—a plan he’s tried to bring to you several times. Emi had an idea how that plan could be used, now that she’s seen what a battle looks like. A good topic, yes?”

  Rahan fixed his eyes on me, but Blathebed spoke before he could. “Please, Emi. Tell us your plan.”

  And I do believe he meant it.

  “This linen,” Emi said, pinching her yellow dress. “It has bothered me every day that this cloth is all they can find for me to wear. I was startled today to see Liv and other stuck wearing the same.”

  Blathebed’s smile faded, and I began to summon the courage to interrupt the girl before she suggested that we raid a dress shop. My words caught in my mouth though, as I recognized that the yellow circles of the new division and the ribbons they wore were a nod to Emi.

  She continued unabated. “But you see, this is all that the Warrens can make for us. The garment makers lack the fine needles to work the many silks, and we have none of the heavy looms needed to weave the mountains of wool stacking up in the warehouses.”

  Liv said to Rahan. “You have all the labor you could ever need, but lack the tools and materials of their trades. You have been trying to make those tools here from scratch, but that would take many years worth of work. I say we use Evand’s plan and loot The Merchants’ Quarter.”

  Rahan said, “You mean the places where the city’s slaves were taken each morning to work? Across Tin Bridge?”

  “Yes,” Emi said. “Those shops and factories contain everything we need, and they have not moved any of it. I would have seen them do it. And those streets are not guarded like the grain stores you’ve had me searching for.”

  Rahan turned to me. “And your plan?”

  My face was flushed. This was not my plan. Who gives a shit about fucking tools? I worked my jaw while my ears rang with anger.

  Emi cocked her head at me while Liv said, “We draw Yarik’s forces to the north side of the palace by launching a full-scale assault upon the palace. Once Yarik’s defenses are committed, we opened the gates to Tin Bridge, storm across, and loot the Merchants’ Quarter. They will be expecting us to attack the barracks and Priest’s Field searching for revenge for General Sonsol’s betrayal. We could be back across the river before they know we’ve struck.”

  “It is a lot to organize,” Blathebed said with a smile and hit me with the back of his hand as though expecting me to share his love for this errand.

  Emi frowned at me as though she could read my mind. It made my skin crawl. She turned to Blathebed. “The men and women who worked those factories know exactly where they need to go to get the tools of their trade. Open the way for them, and they could make the run there and back with their eyes closed. They have done it thousands of times.”

  “The news from Barok—” Blathebed started to say, but then stopped himself. He did not look at me. Whatever the news was, I was not to hear it.

  Rahan said, “I hear you, General. We need this. When could it be done?”

  Blathebed lit up like a kid with a new ball, and in his excitement, he took hold of Rahan’s arm. “Now. Let’s do it right now. The men are healed, fed, and rested. The ships are at station and everyone is alive with victory. Give us the word, my lord, and we’ll storm them tonight.”

  “In the dark?” Rahan asked.

  “Your slaves know the way across the river in the dusk of night and the gloom of morning. Their lives were bent to it,” I said, but my meaning seemed lost to them. Blathebed and Emi nod their heads at Rahan as though this was a good thing.

  I started toward the door. Fuck this.

  “Where are you going?” Rahan asked. “You’re with Bathebed. Emi, get the Warrens moving. I will meet you by the gates to Tin Bridge.”

  Blathebed yanked me along by the arm and spat orders at the captains and lieutenants in the audience chamber as he went.

  Liv caught up to us, smashed my lips with a kiss, and said, “You’ve full kit ready in the foyer. I’ll send your lieutenant with it directly.”

  Then she disappeared while the rest of us we fast marched out onto the plaza. The rest of the captains rushed away to assemble their commands and deliver them down to the harbor.

  I had no men to organize. I had a lieutenant to help with correspondence but nothing else. I was left to stand next to Blathebed like a pet.

  Emi moved south across Talley Bridge, and I wished the thing would collapse and save us all the trouble.

  We were alone when Blathebed said, “I do not know what happened that you believe you have permission to be useless, but in a matter of moments, I am going to need a general to take men ashore. Get your head out of your ass, and your armor on, or I will leave you here for history to remember as a small-minded prick that missed two battles in as many days.”

  “We are throwing ourselves away so slaves can steal merchant property.”

  “Is that your objection? We are assaulting the palace of Bessradi. It’s never been attempted, and you will be the first man ashore. Sinking in now? Can you make it down to the boats in time? It would be best for all of us if you did.”

  I cursed, found my feet, and waved in my approaching lieutenant. He was quick, but I was running out of time. Blathebed was right about how well his men were organized. They surged down to the galleys, and I was just starting to get my breastplate cinched when galley drums began to rumble.

  The lieutenant swore, I swore, and we trundled down, fussing with straps as we went.

  He handed me my helmet as we stepped into the boathouse, and I found my heart quickened by the beat of the drums.

  I must have gotten hit on the head on the way down.

  We were the last two up the gangway, and got yelled at by the men working to pull it aboard. We joined Blathebed middeck as he started laying into a guardsman.

  “Watch that line there,” Blathebed said and cuffed the lad off the seat he’d found upon a rail tied with a dozen ropes. “Boatswain!”

  I spotted the man by the round cap he wore. He crossed the long rectangle of deck below and leapt up th
e stairs. “General?”

  “You need a few extra hands? I have some lazy, land-loving sons-of-bitches on my hand. Found one sitting on this ...”

  “Cleat line,” he said and hollered up to some of his mates. “Grab a landsman and make ready to hoist sails.”

  I’d never paid attention to the organization of the galleys. I studied the boatswain’s mates as they each took hold of a guardsman and hurried them to places all along the rails. The order moved down from the admiral above, ropes pulled in an amazing geometry, and the squares of canvas went aloft.

  The rail in my hands felt solid. The ships were all moving well, and farther downstream I was heartened to see Mercanfur’s tall ship at anchor near Tin Bridge.

  “We are changing into something else,” I said.

  Blathebed shook his head. “The way you are resisting it, it is hard to believe you are the man who started it all.”

  “I did not start this.”

  “No? I recall you riding in on my company as we were preparing to seize the city in Yarik’s name, killing the officers, and taking command. That was you, wasn’t it?”

  “This is not what I fought for.”

  He said nothing and we watched as the galleys made the turn north. The crew had to row a sprint to get us through the rapids created by Yarik’s half-finished dam, but on the far side we were treated to a view of General Sonsol’s divisions camped upon Priests’ Field. High pickets lined the shore and each company was well entrenched.

  “How odd is it,” Blathebed said, “to not have to guess at their numbers. My mind is not working on the math of counting tents and cordons. I always hated math.”

  He was right. The problem of knowing our enemy was well settled. I had Emi’s numbers in my mind and they matched each shape. 46,750 men camped upon Priests’ Field or barracked in the proper company building behind them. Another 2,000 manned the towers of the tall palace walls. Another 176,000 camped in the fields east of the city, waiting for a way across so that they could murder us all.