Through Fiery Trials

by David Weber

  “Mahrys and Gahrnet would be doing that anyway, even without Showail,” Merlin told him. “And I’m afraid that’s going to happen other places, as well. Siddarmark, for one, like those idiots in Mantorath, for example. Not in your joint ventures, maybe, but we all know it’s going to happen.”

  “I know that,” the duke growled. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.”

  “No, you don’t.” Zhain laid her free hand on his knee. “But the example of your success despite your refusal to use children is already part of the debate in the Temple Lands and Dohlar!”

  “And anywhere Delthak Enterprises is involved,” Merlin added.

  “Stop trying to make me feel better!”

  “Oh, we don’t have to make you feel better!” Merlin shook his head. “You’re too pleased with yourself about having played Showail and Shallys to feel depressed for long!”

  “True, too true, if I do say so myself with becoming modesty,” Delthak acknowledged, perking up visibly.

  “I don’t think that word—‘modesty’—means what you think it means,” Merlin said. “On the other hand,” he conceded with a grin as he pictured Shallys and Showail congratulating themselves on having stolen so much information and so many industrial techniques without ever realizing how badly the inner circle had wanted them stolen, “it was pretty smooth. Almost Nahrmahn-esque, one might say.”

  “Oh, no! I’m not in that stratospheric company … yet,” Delthak demurred.

  “Maybe not. But Showail and Shallys’ defection does sort of underscore why Domynyk and Dunkyn really, really don’t want the notion of geared turbines suggested to anyone else just yet. I doubt anyone else would be able to actually cut the gears for a long time to come even if someone did suggest the possibility to them, but you may recall that the Temple surprised us a time or two during the Jihad.”

  “Agreed. Agreed!” Delthak sighed.

  And, he acknowledged, the admirals had a point. At the moment, no one else on Safehold could challenge the Imperial Charisian Navy’s steam-powered warships, but that was bound to change. As Merlin had pointed out, Charisian shipyards weren’t allowed to sell modern warships to anyone else as an “obvious” ploy to maintain the Charisian monopoly upon them. In fact, it was a “ploy” to put additional pressure on anyone who might wish to challenge Charis’ absolute maritime supremacy to build shipyards of their own. And, sooner or later, there would be non-Charisian steam-powered ships in other people’s navies.

  Should the “angels” actually return in the next decade or so, that probably wouldn’t matter. No one could build a fleet capable of facing the ICN in that short a time; it was more important that they make the effort to, spreading technology ever wider. If, however, Safehold was lucky enough to have eight or nine more decades before any “angelic” return, then other people certainly would be able to build significant fleets. And given their inability to introduce electricity without drawing a celestial bombardment, there was an upper limit to the inner circle’s ability to keep introducing superior technologies to stay ahead of the opposition. So the trick was to keep the pressure on everyone else to adopt Charisian innovations without pushing them into letting their own innovators, like Dynnys Zhwaigair or Lynkyn Fultyn, jump too far ahead. And, the duke conceded, that truly did make geared turbines something they should hold in reserve.

  At the moment, even Charisian-built ships were restricted to a top speed of around twenty-six knots, or about twenty-three Old Terran knots, and they couldn’t maintain that speed for very long before their triple-expansion reciprocating engines began tearing themselves apart. Forced lubrication helped—indeed, it was the only thing which made that possible—but the vibration problem was a more intractable one. Replacing those reciprocating engines with steam turbines would allow significant increases in speed and eliminate the vibration problems that prevented reciprocating engines from running at high rpm for extended periods, and designing and building turbines that size wouldn’t be an insurmountable obstacle, especially since every single assembly line on Charis would have plenty of turbines around to reverse engineer. They were the heart of the pneumatic machine tools Howsmyn and his artificers had developed.

  Unfortunately, to be efficient, a turbine had to run at higher revolutions per minute than a reciprocating engine, and turbines directly coupled to propeller shafts couldn’t. Their rpm had to be stepped down to something a ship’s propellers could actually use, and that forced them out of their efficiency envelope and drove fuel requirements up sharply. The monetary cost of the fuel might not have been a problem; the volume and tonnage costs definitely were. There was a limit to how much coal could be crammed into a ship, and that limit and the efficiency of its engines determined its maximum operational range. Put most simply, existing expansion engines were slow and fragile at high speeds but burned far less fuel per mile steamed; turbines were fast and robust, but came with a voracious appetite for fuel. So to obtain the speed and the mechanical reliability of turbines required significant sacrifices in endurance and range.

  Unless, of course, someone produced a geared transmission that could be inserted between the turbine and the propeller shaft. If someone did that, the turbines could run at their most efficient rate, which would then be geared down to something a propeller could actually use.

  “All right,” the Duke of Delthak said, smiling crookedly at his wife. “I’ll be good. I’ll just sit in the corner and stifle myself where this whole transmission thing is concerned and I won’t even pout about it.

  “For now.”

  FEBRUARY YEAR OF GOD 906

  .I.

  Tellesberg Palace, City of Tellesberg, Kingdom of Old Charis, Empire of Charis.

  “I think I hate you,” Sharleyan Ahrmahk said with a smile as Nimue Gahrvai entered the sitting room, her husband at her heels.

  “Why?” Nimue cocked her head. “What have I done now?”

  “Not had morning sickness,” Cayleb told her with a chuckle, stepping forward to embrace her, then extending a hand to General Gahrvai. “She’s been harping on that for the last couple of five-days.”

  “Why?” Nimue repeated as Sharleyan opened her arms to hug her in turn. “It’s not as if—” She paused, then looked back and forth between the emperor and empress. “You’re joking, right?”

  “No, I am not joking,” Sharleyan said. “Owl confirmed it last Wednesday.”

  “You two are like rabbits!” Nimue said with a laugh, hugging Sharleyan even tighter. “What? Four heirs weren’t enough?”

  “Never enough heirs … as long as they don’t get into dynastic wars,” Cayleb replied. “More importantly, you can’t have too many sibs to support the heir.”

  “And I still hate you,” Sharleyan told Nimue with a laugh of her own. “And I think I hate Irys, too. She’s never morning sick, either.”

  “That’s true,” Nimue said, standing back and laying one hand on her own “baby bump.”

  She was officially seven months pregnant now, but those were Safeholdian months, which worked out to about six and a half Old Terran months. At her request, Owl had run computer projections based on Nimue Alban’s genetic profile to determine how a normal pregnancy would have affected the original Nimue, and her PICA had faithfully simulated the results of those projections. One difference between her and Sharleyan—aside from the fact that Sharleyan truly was pregnant—was that Owl had determined that Nimue would probably have “carried high,” which gave her rather a different profile.

  “That’s true,” she repeated, and smiled just a bit wistfully. “On the other hand, I won’t get to feel them kick, either.”

  “I know you won’t,” Sharleyan said with a gentler smile, then chuckled. “On the other hand, you won’t have the pair of them taking turns to sit on your bladder, either! I know it’s not the same, Nimue, but trust me, there are some advantages to doing this your way. Especially with yet another set of Corisandian twins! Did the two of you absolutely have to do that?”
<
br />   “Of course we did, Your Majesty,” Sir Koryn Gahrvai said, taking her hand and bending to kiss her cheek. “It’s a Corisandian tradition.”

  “Showoffs!” Sharleyan shook her head at him.

  “At least ours are fraternal, not identical, like certain other people’s I could mention,” Nimue pointed out.

  “And this way we have one we can name for both of our fathers and one we can name for both of our mothers,” Gahrvai said. He put an arm around Nimue and she leaned her head against his shoulder.

  “I never expected to have the chance to do that,” she said softly.

  “That’s us Corisandians,” Gahrvai said, kissing the top of her head. “Always ready to help out a lady.”

  “There are times I am awed by your selflessness,” she told him dryly, and it was his turn to chuckle.

  “I have to say this is one outcome I never would have visualized that first morning when I found ‘Captain Chwaeriau’ standing post outside Hektor and Irys’ chamber,” he said. “Should have, I suppose, given how pissed off I was. Always seems to be the people you love who can really make you mad, so it’s no wonder you started right off that way!”

  “Speaking of making people mad—or scandalizing them, at least—are noses still out of joint about ‘cradle robbing’?” Cayleb asked.

  “Probably,” Gahrvai said. “Of course, no one really knows how old the mysterious Seijin Nimue truly is, although it’s painfully obvious she’s much younger than my ancient and decrepit self.”

  At forty-six, he was the oldest person in the room. But that was only the equivalent of forty-two Standard Years old, and he was dauntingly fit for his age. It was true he did look rather older than that, however. His dark hair was graying prematurely, and the right cheek which had been severely scarred in the course of the all-too-nearly-successful attempt to assassinate Hektor and Irys on their wedding day gave him a grim warrior’s mien. Nimue Gahrvai, on the other hand, looked preposterously young. That was part of her seijin persona’s mystique, and the obvious age differential between her and Merlin Athrawes had been deliberate. In truth, combining Nimue Alban’s pre-Safehold lifetime with Nimue Chwaeriau’s years of existence, she was barely three Standard Years younger than he.

  “You should’ve gotten all this marriage stuff out of the way sooner,” Sharleyan said as she waved their guests towards the table under the open skylight. “Then you’d have been close enough to Alyk and Sharyl that no one would even have noticed the difference between your ages!”

  “I had to bring her around to it gradually,” Gahrvai said, pulling out Nimue’s chair and seating her before he took the chair beside hers. “Besides, Alyk was a bad enough shock to Manchyr’s system without adding us to it.”

  “Manchyr’s system?” Sharleyan snorted magnificently as Cayleb seated her, then settled into the chair facing Gahrvai’s. “You should’ve seen what happened in Cherayth! I know you weren’t a member of the circle at the time, but go back and ask Owl to play some of the surveillance video for you. His reputation had preceded him, and Elahnah was ready to whisk Sharyl back to Halbrook Hollow and keep her there as long as he was in the kingdom. Heavens! She was ready to send her to a convent for however long it took!”

  “Oh, believe me, Alyk’s told me all about it.” Gahrvai grinned. “And I don’t blame Her Grace one bit. If she’d been my daughter, I’d have sat up nights with a loaded revolver until he sailed for Manchyr again!”

  “Stop it, both of you!” Nimue scolded, although her grin was almost as broad as Gahrvai’s. “He’s totally devoted to her, and you know it!”

  “Of course I do,” Gahrvai acknowledged. “Wouldn’t be half as much fun to twit him if he wasn’t. All those years as Corisande’s most notorious bachelor, and he falls for a schoolgirl!”

  “Not quite a schoolgirl,” Sharleyan disagreed. “She was twenty-five, for goodness sakes!”

  “And he was thirty-nine,” Gahrvai riposted. “There are times when I wish I could point out to certain individuals in Manchyr that my wife is actually the odd thousand years or so older than I am, because I do get the occasional ‘wyverns of a feather’ comment. Especially from Taryl. Fortunately, he’s had less opportunity to pick on me since he resigned from the Royal Council and went back on active duty with the Navy. Charlz has taken to substituting for him, though.”

  “Ah, yes! The joys of old family friends!” Cayleb said. “With emphasis on the ‘old’ in this case.”

  “Seriously, that’s a marriage I completely approve of,” Sharleyan said. “Sharyl is one of the smartest people I know, and stubborn. And, to be honest, I’m not unhappy to no longer have to worry about the dashing Earl of Windshare’s ability to ruffle feathers and get himself challenged to duels.”

  “It is more restful,” Gahrvai acknowledged. “Especially for those of us who kept finding ourselves acting as his second.” His expression turned more serious. “I was always afraid that one day he’d either get himself killed or else find himself forced to kill someone else. Either one would’ve been … bad.”

  “That’s true,” Cayleb agreed. “But having him married to Sharleyan’s cousin was a serious political coup, too. The fact that it was another of those gooey-hearted love matches may have made the romantics among us—and, by the way, I count myself in that number—go all weepy eyed, but from a political perspective I’m in favor of every marriage between the Empire’s princedoms and kingdoms we can get.”

  “Always the cynical politician,” Nimue said, but her tone was one of distinct approval.

  “I wouldn’t have pushed it just because of the political advantages, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind to them after the fact,” Cayleb said a bit tartly.

  “And speaking as someone who’s been Alyk’s closest friend for thirty-plus years, she’s been incredibly good for him,” Gahrvai said. “As you say, Sharleyan, she is one of the smartest people you’re going to meet. The truth is, she was smart enough to realize a lot of his reputation was a cover.”

  “A cover?” Sharleyan arched an eyebrow at him.

  “A lot of people assume Alyk’s new, more … measured and thought out approach to life is due to the fact that he knows she’s smarter than him and he’s willing to let her steer. And there’s truth to that, to be honest. But what’s also true is that his principles always ran deep—deep enough he hid them under that whole ‘rake’ façade. I don’t know for certain how many of those duels of his involved an actual seduction, but I’m willing to bet it couldn’t have been more than three—four, at the outside. He liked to project the image that he was nipping in and out of bed at every opportunity, but he wasn’t, really. Oh, he did love to flirt! Don’t get me wrong about that! But the half-dozen serious affairs he had that I know of were all with … experienced ladies who were as free as he was. I think that when Sharyl figured out what had really been going on, it amused her more than anything else. Intrigued her, too, I suspect. She’s the one who took the initiative, you know. Trust me, nothing would ever have happened between them if she hadn’t! He probably wouldn’t even have flirted with her, given that she was only about two-thirds his age. The fact that he gravitated towards her despite the age difference was what convinced me, at least, that he was absolutely serious.”

  “You mean she carries his heart around in her pocket,” Sharleyan said with a fond smile.

  “That’s exactly what I mean,” Gahrvai agreed, taking Nimue’s hand in his. “There seems to be a lot of that going around in Corisande.”

  “I hope you two aren’t going to get all gooey before we’ve even had lunch,” Cayleb said sternly.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Gahrvai said … and leaned over to kiss Nimue’s cheek.

  .II.

  Tellesberg Palace, City of Tellesberg, Kingdom of Old Charis, and The Delthak Works, Barony of High Rock, Empire of Charis.

  “Going to be a beautiful sunset,” Koryn Gahrvai murmured, two days later, as he and Nimue joined Cayleb and Sharleyan on their private b
alcony.

  “We do do that well here in Tellesberg, don’t we?” Cayleb allowed. “Takes years of practice to get it just right, you understand. Of course, it’s just one of many things we Old Charisians do well, now that I think about it.”

  “And so modest about it, too,” a deep voice observed. In Cayleb and Sharleyan’s case, it spoke over their earplugs. Gahrvai was one of the slowly increasing number of the inner circle who’d found an excuse to disappear for the five-day and a half it took to install Owl’s new wetware and no longer needed earplugs or contact lenses.

  “Well, when you’re an Old Charisian, you have so much to be modest about!” Cayleb told him, then “oofed” as his loving wife poked him in the ribs.

  “Thank you, my daughter,” Maikel Staynair said.

  “You’re welcome, Your Eminence.”

  “Actually, at the risk of reigniting Cayleb’s ego, Charisians in general do have a lot of things to be modest about,” Nimue said. “I have to say, I’ve really been looking forward to seeing your and Stahlman’s latest venture, Ehdwyrd!”

  “We’ll try not to disappoint,” the Duke of Delthak replied. “And we’re running just a bit ahead of schedule, actually.”

  “We’re not going to wait for Nahrmahn?” Sharleyan asked.

  “He and Owl are sorting through the daily take from the SNARCs,” Delthak replied. “He says we should go ahead without him, and I don’t want to lose the light to that Old Charisian sunset your husband was just bragging about when we launch. Besides, he said something insufferably Nahrmahn-ish.”

  “Like what?”

  “Something about SNARCs and electronic personalities who can watch it as many times as they want from as many angles as they like.”