“I trust that you will not.” She smoothed out her expression and gave him a carefree smile, the one he usually saw. “I am satisfied. You may go.”
With a bow, he turned and left her, praying he could keep all the promises that he had been making.
~~~
Darius had every intention to stop by his rooms, quickly change clothes, and then go out again to start gathering the experts he needed. He managed a whole two feet inside of his door before being greeted by Sego, who had a strange smirk on his face. It didn’t escape his notice that Payam hovered nearby, ostensibly “studying” but keeping an eye on the door, and that Tolk lounged on a nearby cushion idly polishing a dagger. A dagger he normally wouldn’t use, at that.
Before he could really wonder what they were doing, Sego greeted, “Welcome back, General. How did your conference with the queen go?”
“Well, all in all,” Darius responded carefully. What were these three up to?
“Excellent.” Sego beamed at him with a very suspicious glint in his eye. “We were settling your new acquisitions in the rooms but came across two items that quite baffled us.”
What items? Oh. Uh-oh….
With a flourish, Sego stepped aside and revealed the hairpin and the mirror that were sitting on the table. Innocent expression still firmly in place, Sego inquired, “Are these for Amalah Sebresos, by chance?”
Why, why did Queen Tresea have to summon him before he could hide those? Wait, why did Sego even know who they were for? Darius bent a glare at Bohme for tattling even after he’d fed the man a sumptuous dinner.
Bohme raised both hands in a placating gesture. “Washn’t me.”
The only other person who could possibly have figured this out would be…. Darius turned his head and gave Payam that same evil glare. The boy, undaunted, grinned at him cheekily.
“These are not, precisely, courting gifts,” Sego continued as if Darius weren’t thinking murderous thoughts. “But they are rather borderline. Do I need to ask your intentions?”
Darius deliberately ignored the question. “Bohme, you’re off duty. Payam, study and stop grinning at me like a mindless gopher. Tolk, I’ll be heading out shortly so get ready. Sego, I will deal with the presents myself so do not meddle.”
Sego put a hand to his heart as if hurt by the accusation. “General, I am only here to aid you.”
“And meddle,” Darius added dryly. Ignoring his steward’s crestfallen expression—really, the man could be an actor he feigned it so well—he went into his bedroom and quickly changed into a clean uniform. Coming out, he snatched up the hairpin and stashed it in one of his trunks. Then he went to his office and penned a quick note.
It read simply: It’s not a book.
He almost signed it but paused. If her parents realized that she had gotten a gift from the same man twice, a man with a very conflicting reputation, would they give her grief over it? The way that she reacted to things made him think so. Well, with the message, she’d likely realize who sent it to her regardless.
Satisfied, he wrapped note and mirror and sent it off with Payam with orders to be sneaky on handing it over to her.
With that done, he grabbed Tolk and headed for the Army Offices before Sego could corner him again.
Darius sat in his war room, his commanders all around him, with the charts and reports of the harbor spread on the table in front of them. He’d pulled everyone from their daily training routines for this meeting but no one complained about escaping the brutal heat outdoors for the relative coolness of the room.
“—and that’s as much as I know at this point. I’ve requested an engineer to look over our plans once we’ve made them and tell me which ones are feasible. What we need to come up with now is several possible plans.”
No one at the table immediately launched into an idea. Kaveh sat to his left, one hand idly tracing the chart in front of him, drawing an invisible line along the harbor wall in an absent way that suggested the man was deep in thought. Navid took up the other head of the table, as he typically did, arms crossed over his chest and eyes blankly fixed on some point on the table. Ramin didn’t sit like a statue as the other two did, but had pulled a piece of parchment toward him and started quickly jotting things down.
“You said—” Navid started slowly, making everyone start a little at the sudden break in silence “—that oil floats. Does oil burn?”
“Yes.” Darius amended this by adding, “At least, the right oil compound on salt water will burn. Not for as long as it did on the desert floor during our last battle, because you can’t get it to clump in such dense pockets, but it will burn. I tested that myself before I left.”
“So can we do something similar to what we did in the last battle?” Kaveh stopped tracing with his finger and looked up. “Put pockets of oil here and there to break up their ships’ formations?”
“No,” Ramin responded instantly, before Darius could even get his mouth open. “The tides of the ocean will move the oil around. We won’t be able to control where it goes. It’ll likely wash up against the shoreline, eventually, which won’t do us any good.”
“Even if we put it out only a few hours before the ships actually enter the harbor?” Kaveh objected. “No…,” he paused and traced his chin in a thoughtful manner. “No, you’re right. It took us nearly a full day to pour the oil out on the desert, and that was with everything laid out beforehand. Doing it by boat will be even harder and take more time. This isn’t feasible.”
“No,” Darius agreed in a long sigh. “That was the conclusion I reached as well.”
“But we can still shoot fire arrows at ships,” Navid suggested.
“They’re very quick to put out such fires,” Ramin negated with a shake of the head. “Fire is the thing most feared by sailors. They take a lot of precautions against it.”
Darius could well understand why. Most sailors couldn’t swim. If ever the ship they were on caught fire, they would be forced to abandon it, only to face a slower death by drowning. “Ramin, you know something about ships?”
“Grandfather was a fisherman,” he admitted with a shrug of the shoulders. “As a child, I spent quite a few summers with him.”
At least he had one person on his staff that understood the basics of ships and tides. Shaa be blessed for that. It would save him from asking a lot of tedious questions later.
Darius locked his fingers together and rested his chin on his hands, eyes studying the chart as he thought. “If we could somehow force them to offload their soldiers a few boats at a time, we’d stand a chance of fighting them off. But if they do more than five or seven boats at once, then they’ll quickly overwhelm us.”
Navid shook his head before Darius could even finish. “Not good plan, General. Street fighting is ugly.”
“Very ugly,” Darius agreed, feeling a headache brewing between his eyes. “I’ve been forced to do it once. What should have taken a day or two took weeks. And I don’t even want to remember what it did to the citizens living in that city. It’s a tactic to be avoided at all costs.”
Kaveh reached out and traced an invisible line with his forefinger, connecting the harbor walls. “You said that adding on a gate or something along those lines would put too much strain on the walls, correct?” He didn’t wait for an answer or even look up at Darius before continuing. “But what if the gate wasn’t a real one?”
Darius’s mind stopped whirling in a mad spiral and abruptly sharpened on his commander. “A fake gate?”
“As you explained it, the walls were made of boards with a hollow pocket inside. They were so airtight that the workers just floated them into place before filling them.” Kaveh started illustrating with his hands, drawing the image in the air. “If we had more walls made up like the ones already in place, they wouldn’t weigh but a fraction of the harbor walls but they would look just as solid.”
Ramin nodded, head bobbing in growing excitement. “Yes, yes that might work. I mean, if they tried to bust
through, they’d be able to do it easily, but it still might work.”
Indeed it might. The trick would be to convince them that they couldn’t openly maneuver in and out of the harbor because of that new gate. “Kaveh, I think you might have solved half of our problem. Talk with the engineer and see how plausible this will be. Also confer with the city maintenance men and see how fast they could put those fake walls into place. If they can do it within a quarter or a half hour’s time span, it might work.” Any more time than that, the armada would have the time to turn around and at least one ship would be able to ram its way through, re-opening the path.
Kaveh started writing down notes as he gave him orders. “You said you spoke to one person specifically, sir?”
“Gabr,” Darius supplied. “He’s expecting someone to come and confer with him again. You’ll find that he’s a sensible man with a great deal of experience. You’ll also find him at the Three Shoal’s Tavern near the docks in the afternoons.”
For some reason, this information earned him some interesting looks from the other three, as if they couldn’t fathom why he would know this. Darius shot them a quick grin. “Well, how do you think I found the man, anyway? Certainly not at work. His superiors are less than helpful.”
A tight, unhappy expression passed like a shadow over Kaveh’s face. “I’m sadly not surprised to hear that, sir. But I’ll remember to go directly to this Master Gabr.”
“Good.” Now, what else? They might need to walk away and think about this for a while before anyone else had a good idea to offer. “Let’s all think on this and come back tomorrow to discuss. But before I end the meeting, is there anything that I’ve missed?”
Shared looks between the men, like they knew someone should say something, but no one wanted to be the one to actually speak. Finally, Kaveh sighed and faced him directly. “Sir, I should tell you that there’s a movement in the court to replace you.”
Darius blinked at him, completely not expecting this abrupt left turn. “Haaah. And what is their reasoning?”
“That a foreign general doesn’t have the right to represent all of the Niotan soldiers or the patriotism to lead them,” Kaveh answered with strained neutrality.
The brewing headache had arrived in full force. Darius rubbed at both temples, hard, trying to think clearly. This political maneuvering didn’t come as a surprise. Even in Brindisi, when he’d been the favorite, there had always been some person or another that hadn’t liked his tactics and had campaigned to remove him. These people were usually men with limited ability and large ambitions who were frustrated by his success. Here it could be more dangerous and serious because of his history with Niotan. Anyone campaigning against him would have more material to use in a political battle. Unfortunately. Some part of him felt like complaining: I’m busy trying to save their lives! Can’t they leave me alone long enough for me to do that before they start throwing their tantrums? Alas, the foolishly ambitious were typically more foolish than anything. “And how is this being received?” he asked wearily.
“I don’t think anyone knows how to take it, not yet,” Ramin answered frankly. “Before we won the battle at the eastern front, it might have drawn more support, but you pulled off a miracle there, sir. A lot of people think you should stay as lead general if you can keep winning like that. Ahh…are you alright, sir?”
Darius released a hand so that he could wave away Ramin’s concern. “I’m fine. Alright, I will have Sego investigate this.” The man would know more about the intricacies of the players involved and he seemed to adore political maneuvering so he’d likely jump at the chance to play. “Thank you for pointing it out. Anything else?” He fervently hoped not.
“No, sir,” Navid assured him.
Good. “In that case, dismissed.”
~~~
Even though he really, truly didn’t want to, Darius went to dinner that night. Queen Tresea often encouraged him to come to the formal dinner (actually, she outright ordered him to) but half the time the choice to come was left to him. He did, after all, have a great deal of work to do in order to prepare for Brindisi’s next attack. There were days when he couldn’t think straight because of all the questions being asked of him. But there were also those odd days when he’d delegated everything out, which left him sitting there, waiting for an answer.
Since he had nothing better to do with his time, he’d thought it best to go and see if he couldn’t at least identify who wanted his position as lead general.
The hallways nearest the formal dining room were full of nobility as usual. He paid no particular attention to this, just weaved his way in and around people, exchanging greetings as he moved until he spied a very familiar head of black hair. Stepping up the pace, he dodged an elderly couple and finally had her in his sights. For once, she had no escort except the matron Hali which followed in her wake. Normally, Amalah had her parents with her.
A proper gentleman, when seeing a young woman walking unescorted, should offer his arm, right? It sounded like a good justification to him. Biting back a devious smile, he lengthened his stride and took a half-step in front of her. “Raja Amalah.”
She stopped dead, surprised by his sudden appearance, but a smile lit up her face almost instantly. “General! You are back from your trip already?”
“I arrived yesterday,” he admitted. “But I see that you are without an escort. Will you do me the honor?”
A hint of pink colored her cheeks as she accepted his arm. Hali glared at him from behind, but he ignored her. Satisfied, he led her toward the dining hall.
Amalah pulled him closer and leaned up a little to whisper, “I must warn you, there are people here that are not happy with your position. They are trying to undermine you.”
So, even she had heard about it? He smiled at her in reassurance. “My staff alerted me. I appreciate your warning, though.” Darius made a face, as if he had a mouth full of vinegar. “Court politics seem to come hand in hand with my position.”
She made a similar face. “I, too, do not enjoy them.”
“What is there to enjoy?” he asked in a rhetorical fashion. “Back-stabbing—sometimes literally—and bribes and rumors and gossip, none of which brings about any good. My steward thinks it fascinating. I find it frustrating.”
They entered the main doors of the room and conversation naturally lagged as they had to fight their way through the throng. Darius observed in bemusement that the layout of the room had changed. Before, the main table where the royal family sat had been at the front of the room with several very long tables arrayed perpendicular to each other taking up the rest of the area. Now, the tables were arranged to where they hugged the walls, leaving a clear space in the center. Did these random changes often happen?
Amalah looked all around her before admitting to him in an aside, “I’ve never seen this arrangement before.”
Hmm. Alright, so this was new. No one else seemed to know how to react to this new arrangement either as they were milling about for a long time before finally finding a seat. Darius escorted Amalah to an empty position nearby, his mind racing. He couldn’t help but feel that this re-arrangement of the furniture had some ulterior purpose. The way that the queen sat on her raised dais and watched everyone with a half-smile on her face rather confirmed the theory. That expression spoke of trouble.
Feeling uneasy, he took a seat beside Amalah and waited for everyone else to settle. It took longer than usual, but eventually everyone found a place and sat. The servers came out with their platters of meats, breads, cheeses, fruits, and the mulled ciders this country was famous for. When they were served the queen waved a hand to give them permission to eat.
Darius made sure that Amalah’s plate was full before seeing to himself. He had just raised a handful of bread to his mouth when his dinner partner murmured, “My non-book is quite extraordinary.”
Oh-ho, so she did like it. He peeked at her from the corner of his eye and found her to be smiling ruefully. “It h
ad to belong to you. It told me so.”
She raised a hand to her mouth, looking mock-surprised. “Mirrors are capable of conversing?”
“Anything on a merchant’s table is capable of conversing,” he assured her dryly. “And every merchant in the world is willing to convey their words, if you aren’t capable of hearing them.”
She bit her lip in an effort not to laugh, but one escaped her anyway. “Is that what happened?”
“Well, no. It was just the first thing I saw that I thought you’d like that wasn’t a book.” The second, actually, but he’d find a way of giving that to her later.
“I’ve never seen one quite like it. The maker’s mark on the box looked very unfamiliar to me as well. Was it made in Brindisi?”
“Arape, actually. I bought it from—”
“Darius!” Tresea called from the front table.
He stopped mid-sentence and turned to look at her. Even from this distance, he could see the calculating gleam in her eyes. “Yes, My Queen?”
“It occurs to me that even though you have fought on my land many times, I have never seen you in combat.”
“That is true, My Queen,” he agreed. What by Darr’s name is she up to? She certainly was leading up to something.
“This is disagreeable to me. I have heard that your swordsmanship is no less brilliant than your strategies. I wish to see if this is true with my own eyes.”
Hmmm, so she was aware of the murmurings within her court about him. A martial arts display would likely shut up quite a few of them but not the most hardcore dissenters. Unless she had some follow-up plan in mind? Knowing her, she likely did. Wanting to see how she’d handle this, he decided to play along. “Even if you say so, My Queen, it’s rather difficult to display my skill without having a partner to fight with.”
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