The Emperor's Men 7: Rising Sun

by Dirk van den Boom

  That was the King’s daughter, Balkun realized, and he managed a faint grin. He looked down at the violently reddened skin on his legs, which burned and stretched uncomfortably over the flesh. He knew what burns were like, and he knew it was not quite as bad as it looked. And apart from the lower legs, a little at the ankles, the fire had spared him.

  Someone handed him a big cloth, damp with cool water, and Balkun squatted, wrapped the wounds in the fabric, enjoyed the pleasant feeling of relief, and found the power to smile. He took the cup of water, which was served to him at the behest of the King, drank greedily, coughed, drank again, and the invigorating power of the liquid filled him.

  “What’s your name?” the King asked.

  “Balkun, sir. I belong … I am a …”

  “Your clothes tell me. You are one of the slaves of the messenger’s army.”

  Balkun bowed his head.

  “What are you doing outside your camp during the night?”

  The man from Yaxchilan began, first hesitantly, then increasingly fluent, to report on his experiences that night. Chitam listened to him as attentively as Queen Tzutz, who still clutched her daughter after she had been well supplied with water. Around them, the turmoil of the rescue continued. Human chains were formed from the nearby reservoir, bringing in water. The extinguishing work was in full swing, but it was already apparent that it was more about protecting adjacent buildings. The palace was beyond salvation and would probably have to be rebuilt from scratch.

  When Balkun had finished his description, Chitam nodded thoughtfully. “You have done well, Balkun. I’ll talk to the Lord of the Gods. You should be freed. You shall receive honors and return to your homeland.”

  Balkun suppressed his joy. While Chitam might approve of this, Balkun had the feeling that the power in Mutal was not quite as clearly distributed as the King hoped. And he had a good reason to have legitimate doubts about his imminent release.

  “Can you describe the man who was responsible for all this?”

  Balkun’s vague portrayal was frowned at by Chitam, and the slave didn’t mind the King’s reaction. He had only briefly seen the man. If he faced him, he might recognize him. Or not. It would prove fatal if he accused the wrong guy.

  Fatal especially for Balkun, when his mistake became known.

  Before the King could ask any more questions, one of his men approached him. “Lord, we have been able to save almost all people from the palace in time. The early warning helped. Two servants inhaled too much smoke and are struggling to catch their breath. There are burns, and there will be scars.” The man looked down at the still standing Balkun and nodded to him. “This man saved many lives tonight, my King.”

  “He did,” Chitam replied, giving Lady Tzutz and her daughter a long, warm look. He looked at Balkun and added, “We’ll talk later. You remain at my disposal.”

  Balkun just bowed, coughed and nodded.

  While the King returned to the firefighting operation, Balkun crouched and sank into deep brooding. He recalled the events of the night and followed his own steps and observations until then.

  He knew why he feared that Inugami would not be pleased with the exploits of his runaway slave. Of course, Balkun couldn’t be sure. Maybe there was a dispute among the messengers, or someone wanted to take matters into their own hands. Anyway, Balkun was determined to keep one important fact to himself until further notice.

  Namely, that one of the two men who had given the assassin the pitcher with the tree resin – and for that Balkun took every oath! – had been a messenger of the gods.

  28

  Sarukazaki held a list that both Inugami and Aritomo regarded with a sorrowful expression. They were all exhausted, for the palace fire had also necessitated the help of the submarine’s crew. At first, Inugami had refused to provide the boat’s medical supplies for the treatment of the wounded, but then there’d been burns that turned out to be very painful, with many a child and many a woman affected. A pitiful sight and none that could leave one cold. After all, Inugami had finally softened, especially since the supplies of burn ointment were sufficient and they wouldn’t last forever anyway. On board the boat were two men with paramedics training, and both set to work on orders. Aritomo had also given them an extra instruction – they should also look closely at the treatment methods of the Mayan healers and try to identify those medicinal plants they used to care for their patients. Even the crew of the submarine would need such treatment before long, and it was only proper to prepare for the day it became necessary.

  Otherwise, they had helped with the cleanup, where it was possible. This help, as Inugami had finally admitted, was a good idea, because it showed the commitment of the messenger even in mundane things. The Maya were shaken by the fire and agitated, a similar attack had never occurred in the history of the city. Rumors flew around, and the center of attention was a man from Inugami’s Janissary Army, who had distinguished himself by his timely warning and courageous intervention. Although Inugami had been very angry that the soldier had left his camp without permission, he knew he needed to put a nice face on the issue right now. He had publicly praised the man named Balkun eloquently. More hadn’t happened so far.

  But today it was about Sarukazaki’s list. The fact that the engineer had also been joined Sawada and Lengsley suggested that they were facing a very exhausting meeting, the contents of which would not give them much pleasure.

  At least, Aritomo took that from the engineer’s expression as he sat down with a bow following the captain’s invitation. It was, as always, very hot, and they had set up a table and chairs on the foredeck of the boat, shaded by a stretched tarpaulin that fortunately had been part of the boat’s equipment. The shade protected them from direct sunlight, but today’s almost immobile air, with its heavy moisture, made breathing very strenuous. Not far from here, smoke rose from the ruins of the palace. Aritomo’s gaze kept falling on the smoldering ruin. It was a depressing symbol that they were vulnerable here, in the middle of Mutal. He had doubled the guards and wanted to talk to the warrior slave who had saved the lives of the palace, but so far Chitam had denied him access.

  And Inugami hadn’t made it a big affair yet. A restraint that was almost uncharacteristic.

  “Captain, we’ve been here for a few weeks now, and the problems are starting, just as we expected.” The technician nodded to Lengsley to show who he meant exactly “we.” Inugami made a gesture of agreement.

  “For one thing, we’re going to run out of diesel shortly. We have the engines running again and again to recharge the batteries. Without electricity, we can’t illuminate the boat and stay in it, we can also perform no maintenance. It was our effort to handle the diesel as carefully as possible, and we saved where we could, but even with the strictest rationing, we might have two weeks left.” Sarukazaki paused, frowning. “Unfortunately, that has some very unpleasant consequences. For one, we can’t orient ourselves properly inside the boat. If the batteries are not charged regularly and if we can no longer operate the electric motors, there is a risk that they will lose their functionality. The batteries are especially a big concern for me. Sooner or later it will not matter if we get the boat off the top of the temple or not, it will simply not be functional anymore. So we have to make several decisions about that.”

  Sarukazaki looked up, gazing at Lengsley, who apparently had nothing to add.

  “There’s more to the list,” Aritomo said. “We want to hear everything.”

  The man nodded. “Yes, sir.” He lifted the paper and continued talking. “Things are looking better with the cannon and the weapons. We used up a bit of ammo when we fended off the attack on Mutal, but supplies are still sufficient, especially as we don’t have to waste cartridges for hunting or anything like that. The cannon is in good condition. If we take care of it, it should continue to serve us for a while. The problem lies elsewhere: Despite all our measures to support the boat, th
e battle has negatively affected the static position. If we walk around on it, it’s not so bad, but I specifically want to warn against firing the cannon again until we find a permanent solution. Lengsley?”

  The Briton stretched. Apparently, that was his part now. “We have two options – actually three. We can rebuild the base of the boat, but serious construction work is needed. More or less it would be necessary to rebuild the building under the boat and deliberately plan its architecture to serve as a permanent platform for the boat and thus for the cannon. That is possible, and I think the Maya are well-qualified to do this quickly and effectively. The other option is to dismantle the cannon and place it on a stand-alone platform, which should also be deliberately designed only for this purpose. We could position it centrally so we could make the most of our reach, which would be a significant asset to the city’s defense capability.”

  “The third option?” Aritomo asked.

  Lengsley shrugged. “The boat has to go back into the water. The question is: Do we need a boat in the water and do we deprive ourselves of an important weapon, especially in defense of the city? This is a strategic rather than a tactical decision. It has to be clear what the boat means for us in the future and what we want to use it for. Whereby, as Sarukazaki said, a submarine without fuel is illusory anyway. We need diesel.”

  “Or something equivalent,” the technician interjected.

  “What do you mean?” Inugami asked.

  “The machines are sturdy. We can operate it with poil. There are some minor modifications necessary, but we should get that done. The engines will then run with less power, but it should work.”

  “Poil?”

  “Vegetable oil.”

  Inugami nodded slowly. He had a good enough understanding of the technology to follow the argument. An officer on a submarine was in many ways an all-rounder.

  “What do we need for that?”

  “First of all, suitable oil plants. I want to discuss the matter with some of the Maya. And on that basis I want to equip a small expedition and go on the search. I’m confident that we will quickly find suitable plants. Then I have to build a suitable apparatus for creating the distillate. The principle is not too complicated, and we have much of the necessary equipment on board, or we can make it with local resources. Once we have created the suitable formula, I can rebuild the machines and keep the engines running. Of course, this does not solve our long-term problem – spare parts, lubricants, everything. But we can’t extend the life of diesel and electric motors if we can’t operate them. I would therefore ask you, Captain, to give this project a high priority.”

  Inugami nodded. “I concur. Do what is necessary. If there is a problem, ask Second Lieutenant Aritomo. I want you to succeed.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “The difficulty remains that we have to make a decision regarding the fate of our boat,” Aritomo reminded them.

  “It’s related to other military decisions,” Inugami replied. “Soon we will attack the two neighboring cities that joined the alliance with Yaxchilan against Mutal. I intend to conquer them permanently. This gives us direct access to a large lake, I have learned. It would be possible to position the boat there, which would not only give us a chance to travel quickly in a certain area, but also to find a good position for the cannon. Of course, this is just the first step. We also need to reach the shores in our expansion efforts. Only there we can make use of the submarine to its fullest extent. In any case, my decision is first: The boat must be moved. It has to go back to the water. We will not have to defend Mutal again soon.” Inugami smiled bleakly. “We’re going on the offensive.”

  Everywhere, Aritomo saw a confirming nod, even a look of anticipation – including Sawada and Sarukazaki. The prospect of a campaign, an empire didn’t seem to deter them. Only Lengsley shared the first officer’s doubts. Aritomo clenched his teeth. To address the topic here was meaningless. He exchanged a silent look with the Brit, who nodded imperceptibly. Lengsley was in an even weaker position here. He would be careful not to speak too boldly to Inugami. It was getting harder and harder – Inugami quickly learned and started to treat the Maya with arrogance, but … more deliberately. Whether he would eventually show respect for the locals or whether this was only a charade for everyone to become loyal to him, remained to be seen.

  “Then there’s the point of technological development of the natives,” Inugami said. Aritomo realized that he now rarely used the word “savage,” another indication to the thought he had just cherished. “Sarukazaki’s remarks point to a central problem: We will have to leave the submarine sometime. The machines will not work forever. The ammunition will be used up. Until then, we must, at least, have upgraded Mutal’s warriors – and our own army, first of all – to a higher technical standard. We have to achieve some degree of superiority so that no other Mayan state can effectively put up meaningful resistance. That’s why I need ideas.”

  Again, all eyes turned to the two professionals. This time it was Lengsley who spoke.

  “The problem is metal. Give me metal. All right, for a start only copper. But we need more than just obsidian. The stone replaces the metal in many ways, but is less malleable and breaks more easy. We can’t build an obsidian cannon. We can’t build any claimable machines with small parts without metal. The Maya don’t have a lot of metallurgy because they lack access to the most important resources. Give me metal, and I’ll start making suggestions.”

  Inugami nodded. “You’re right, Lengsley. And we have to search for it. Another expedition perhaps, as Sarukazaki has suggested. But we can’t rely on a quick fix. I need improvements right now. And if we only have obsidian, it’s just that.”

  Inugami moved impatiently. At first nobody said anything, but then Sarukazaki hesitantly raised his hand.

  “Speak!”

  “I talked with Sawada about it … he’s much better at history than I am. We discussed some ideas, not very much in detail. But we came up with some ideas that could be implemented if we got the necessary resources.”

  Inugami waved. “Suppose that we get everything we need in terms of existing materials and labor. What are your ideas?”

  “Catapults and onagers, Captain. They are feasible with local resources. I would like to fire not so much obsidian missiles but rather bags with splinters that fly in all directions on impact. Very effective against massive attacks by warriors in close formation. Other projectiles would be good at fortifications, but so far we haven’t noticed many of them. Most cities are not walled or even gated.”

  “That may change if the Maya get wind of these weapons,” Lengsley said, and Inugami nodded to him.

  Sarukazaki looked up from his notes. “By the way, that’s something we can change with Mutal once the cannon is no longer available to us. A decent city wall, best with ditch and thick gates. The Maya do not seem to have developed a sophisticated siege tactic at the moment.”

  “We’re going to go on the offensive,” Inugami reminded him with a little indignation in his voice.

  “Captain, with respect: Such a fortification is entirely within the abilities of the Mayan craftsmen and requires no additional inventions. If we go on the offensive …”

  Aritomo helped the technician, who apparently had a problem teaching his captain. “Captain, if we conquer other cities and are perceived by them as a threat … collectively, I mean … there are two consequences: Some will submit to us because they are afraid, and others, especially the larger cities, will eventually form an alliance and try to attack us. And depending on how such a campaign proceeds, they may also approach Mutal. It is a logical first goal. We should prepare for such an eventuality. An offensive, as good as it works, has always included a strategic defensive. Everything else would be very unwise. And we can’t assume that all these innovations will be a lasting advantage. The Maya are not stupid. They will look at the new weapons and then possibly copy them. Once that�
�s the case, we’ll need walls even more urgently. Sarukazaki is absolutely right.”

  Inugami looked at Aritomo. His eyes were pinched and he didn’t reply at first, then came a slow nod.

  “Well. I accept that,” he said then addressed Sarukazaki. “Catapults and onagers. I’m not familiar enough with that. You will make drawings for me to understand what you intend to do. And we talk about the walls with the Mayan architects.”

  “Yes, sir.” Sarukazaki gave Aritomo a grateful look.

  Inugami looked around.

  “Further points?”

  Sawada raised his hand.

  “Yes?”

  “There are medical issues to discuss.”

  Inugami leaned forward.

  “I think I know what you’re aiming at.”

  Sawada cleared his throat. “I’m not talking about our medical supplies, which of course are running low as well. The point is that we have diseases that the Mayans are unaware of, and they have very specific problems that are completely new to us. I remember reports of what happened after the Spanish conquerors fought and overcome the natives. There was something similar to an extinction – and the causes were diseases such as the flu. Or measles. The same thing can happen here.” Sawada sighed loudly. “I even fear it will be inevitable.”

  “People in Japan are dying from the flu, too.”

  “Yes of course. But many survive, and those who survive manage the next infection better. Our doctors have no cure, but they know the disease and can recognize it early and treat the symptoms. This alone increases the chances of survival already quite much. But we, Captain, are the only ones, and the natives here … they may be confronted with a disease that their bodies can’t tolerate because they have never been exposed to it. I must urgently warn, this is the potential of disaster.”