Daughter of Independence

by Simon Brown

  Then froze. For a long moment all he was aware of was her breathing and the feel of her warm breath on his cheek. He closed his eyes because he dared not even look at her.

  He was on the verge of apologising when she kissed him back. The same way. So gently it almost was not a kiss.

  ‘Ah, would you like some more wine?’ he asked timorously.

  She shook her head.

  What do I do next? he wondered desperately.

  Heriot kissed him again. Then held his face in her hands and kissed him a third time.

  Oh, Poloma thought. That’s what I do.

  *

  There was a knock on the door to Galys’s room in the Citadel.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘It’s me,’ a woman’s voice came back.

  Galys, who had been in the process of tugging off her boots, silently groaned and tugged them back on again. ‘Who’s me?’ she asked, annoyed. Part of her was still thinking through what she thought the council should say officially to Strategos Werin Reed. It was important the message Reed took back to Lerena demonstrated Kydan’s resolution to remain independent but at the same time open to trade with the old world.

  ‘Veira Vulper. We met at the foundry site on Kayned.’

  Galys’s forehead creased in thought as she tried to remember.

  ‘You were right about the arrows,’ Veira went on.

  ‘That Veira Vulper,’ Galys said aloud, and more from curiosity than politeness opened the door. ‘What do you want?’

  For a moment Galys did not recognise her. Her brain was expecting someone like the woman she had met the other morning, someone with her dress tied up over her knees and a sleeveless vest barely covering her breasts. Instead Veira was dressed in ordinary but clean clothes, and her arms barely showed out of a blouse with sleeves that fell below her elbows. There was still something of the tall, big-boned labourer, though, and her face did not look any younger. Her red hair with its streaks of grey fell loose around her shoulders.

  ‘I want to show you two things,’ Veira said. ‘First, this.’ She held up a piece of red thread.

  Galys blinked. ‘That?’

  ‘Yes,’ Veira confirmed, then smiled proudly. ‘And this!’ Now she held up a length of wood about as long as her forearm.

  Galys was not sure what to do at this point. She felt as if she had joined a conversation halfway through. ‘Why are you showing me these?’

  ‘Couldn’t have done this,’ Veira said, shaking the wood, ‘without this,’ she finished, shaking the thread.

  ‘Good for you,’ Galys said.

  ‘Don’t be cheeky,’ Veira said crossly. ‘It was bloody hard work to make and took a bloody long time to get here with the ferry and all. Just look.’ Again, she held up the piece of wood, but end on, and Galys realised it had been hollowed out.

  No. More than hollowed out. Galys took it from Veira and studied it more closely. It had been threaded. It was as if the length of wood had been bored by a giant screw.

  ‘Used a stone drill,’ Veira said proudly. ‘Took ages to find one. Had to go all the way across to Karhay. So it’s not as fine as it needs to be, but it shows what can be done. Next time I’ll find an auger to use.’

  Galys shook her head. ‘I still don’t know what you are talking about.’

  ‘You raised the matter,’ Veira said. ‘Can I come in? It’s draughty in the hallway.’

  Galys moved aside to let Veira in. ‘I raised what matter?’

  ‘The arrow with the spiral flights, remember?’

  Bits of memory fell together in Galys’s brain. ‘Yes. The arrow.’ She nodded to the red thread still held by Veira. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

  Veira looked very pleased she had been asked this question. Before she could open her mouth Galys held up her hand. ‘Sit down. Do you want a drink?’ She closed the door behind them and poured wine into two wooden mugs, passing one to Veira. They sat in front of the fire. ‘Now that I’m moderately comfortable I think I can start to make sense of some of this. So go on.’

  Veira told Galys how she had found the hunters on Kayned, and got them to demonstrate the difference between an arrow with normal flights and one with the spiral flight.

  ‘I told you the spiral flight made it go further.’

  ‘You said more than that. You said the spiral flight made the arrow spin. And you were right about that, too. That’s what I used the thread for, to see how the arrow moved.’

  ‘Now I see!’ Galys said, getting excited. She looked through the end of the piece of wood again. ‘You’ve put the spiral inside the wood!’ Then the confusion returned, but twice as bad. ‘But how do you get the arrow through this?’

  Veira’s face showed her disbelief that Galys did not understand completely ‘What are you talking about? What arrow? This is just a model. The real thing would be made out of metal.’

  ‘Metal?’

  ‘You asked me if I could put metal feathers on a firegon ball, remember? To make it spin.’

  ‘Vaguely.’ Galys did not feel like explaining that her memory of their meeting had been overwhelmed by the arrival of Werin Reed from Hamilay.

  ‘Well, that was daft, we both knew it.’

  ‘Yes,’ Galys agreed quickly, glad to be included.

  ‘But I’m sure with a firegon barrel that’s been drilled out like this piece of wood I can get a ball to spin,’ Veira said.

  *

  Kadburn was under no illusion about what the visit of Strategos Werin Reed meant for Kydan. Lerena was laying claim to the New Land, and as far as she was concerned Kydan was destined to be Hamilay’s first city in her new domain. Kadburn was so certain because it was not just about empire, it was also about family. Once the empress learned about Maddyn’s death, and the deaths of his consort and child, the only thing left of his to take and make her own was his colony, whether or not the colony in fact existed. By taking Kydan the empress would complete her destruction of Maddyn. Leftover fragments of Maddyn’s legacy, such as Kadburn Axkevleren, could be extinguished along the way.

  Guards on sentry duty throughout the Citadel saluted Kadburn as he walked by. He took great pride in being warden of the Citadel, in being something more than an Axkevleren. Once being an Axkevleren had been enough for him, because it made him Maddyn’s lifelong companion and sword brother. He had grown up and lived the longest portion of his life believing that was his destiny. But he had filled the hole left by Maddyn’s death with a new commitment, a new loyalty, something bigger than a single person, even a Kevleren.

  Kydan was home and sanctuary and final resting place, as far as Kadburn was concerned. Even if Maddyn was somehow to resurrect himself from death, Kadburn could never be his Beloved again. Willingly his friend, even his sword brother, but never a Beloved. When he was alive, to be sure, Maddyn had never treated him like other Kevlerens had treated their Beloveds, but the culture he lived in, the culture he had accepted as his own for so long, could only regard him as something that was part of a Kevleren and never as something apart. Now that he had experienced life as a living being in his own capacity, in his own right, Kadburn would never have it any other way.

  Even the driving need for revenge that had infected him after Maddyn’s death had eroded to the point of being nothing more in his mind than business left undone. Given a fair opportunity to kill Lerena, he would take it, but he would not risk his new life or the security of Kydan to effect it.

  But would Lerena leave him alone? Would she leave Kydan alone?

  He stopped his patrol, looked out over the city and its three islands, looked out over the Bay of Kydan and the wide grass plains north and south, then turned around to see the Frey River coming out of the darkness in the east. All of this was more important to him than his own life, and because of that he knew, deep, deep in his bones, that it was under threat. Not tomorrow, perhaps not even next year, but soon. Soon she would come, the terrible empress of Hamilay.

  *

  Old Boot
was a swayback who had seen more than his fair share of service in the dragoons. Getting close to fifteen years old, the horse was ancient among his brothers, but steady, loyal and hard working. Old Boot may not have been able to bear the weight of a fully loaded trooper into battle any longer, but he was still capable of taking supplies and water wherever the dragoons went. And carrying a beautiful young woman who was terrified of horses.

  Canna held on so tightly to the reins her knuckles were white, and her thighs were clamped so securely around Old Boot’s flank that Ames knew she would suffer terrible cramps all night long, but nothing he said would make her relax, despite all his assurances that she was safe and even though he was leading Old Boot himself. Still, she had not refused to swing up on the saddle, and had not thrown herself off when they walked away from the ferry and north into the wide grasslands that bordered the Frey River.

  ‘Why have you taken me here?’ Canna asked between gritted teeth.

  ‘Look at the land,’ Ames said. ‘Flat and wide. Look how tall the grass grows, and how that protects the soil.’ He stamped his foot on the ground. ‘You could grow anything here.’

  Canna was so focused on the back of Old Boot’s neck that she would not even have seen the Deepening Sea if it had risen up and rushed towards her.

  ‘Canna, raise your eyes. The sun has almost set and everything is turned to gold. See what I see.’

  Canna lifted her chin a tad. Ames saw her swoon and before she could fall had gripped her elbow. ‘I see grass. A lot of grass.’

  ‘Space to grow,’ Ames said. ‘I’m going to claim it. I’m going to see if the council will give it to me. Or at least some of it. From the river north a longmile. That should do.’

  Canna quickly looked around her before lowering her gaze to Old Boot again. ‘What? All this? What for?’

  ‘Farm. Raise horses.’

  Canna let out a cry. ‘More of these? You have female horses?’

  Ames laughed. ‘Mares. Female horses are called mares. No, we have no mares. Dragoons ride geldings.’

  ‘Is that a male horse?’

  ‘Sort of a male horse.’

  ‘Ah, like Uncle Fern’s men sheep with the cut-off –’

  ‘Exactly,’ Ames said quickly. ‘But Commodore Avier is coming back with mares and stallions. If he can get them. Then we will need room for them to breed, make more horses for the dragoons.’

  ‘You know, Captain Ames, I don’t think I like the idea of having horses.’

  ‘Do you trust me, Canna?’

  Canna eyed him suspiciously. ‘No.’

  ‘I will play no trick on you. But you must trust me.’

  Canna still regarded him warily, but nodded anyway. Once.

  Ames jumped onto Old Boot’s back. The horse whinnied under the unexpected weight.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Ames said to Canna, and shifted her forward so she was sitting further over the horse’s shoulders. He took the reins in front of Canna’s hands and softly tapped Old Boot in the ribs.

  They moved forward at a gentle walk.

  ‘Are your eyes open?’ Ames asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  Ames stretched his neck forward to check.

  ‘No they’re not.’

  ‘You should trust a woman’s word.’

  ‘But your eyes are closed.’

  ‘My eyes are open a little bit.’

  Ames tapped Old Boot again and they moved into a trot.

  ‘Oops!’ Canna yelped.

  ‘It’s all right. We’re going only a little faster than a walk.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s not very nice!’ Canna was bouncing on the shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

  ‘Ah, I see what you mean,’ said Ames, and nudged Old Boot again. The horse shifted to a canter.

  ‘Ooh!’ Canna yelped again. ‘Too fast, Captain Ames!’

  ‘Not much faster than before, and this is more comfortable, yes?’

  There was a long pause, and then she said in a very small, very tense voice, ‘Yes.’

  ‘Open your eyes wider.’

  ‘I dare not!’

  ‘Just a little.’

  ‘Ooh! Ooh!’

  Ames felt Canna pull back on the reins, but he held them firm so Old Boot would keep on his steady way. After a short while, though, he slowed to a walk again, and then to a stop. He carefully dismounted, with one hand always on the reins, and patted Canna’s knee.

  ‘There. Your first real ride.’

  Canna opened one eye wide, making sure she was not moving despite everything her other senses told her, and giggled nervously.

  ‘Was that fun?’ Ames said.

  ‘Yes. Fun. Ha ha. Can I get off now?’

  ‘If you like. Remember to get your feet out of the stirrups.’

  He gave her his hand and she slipped off.

  ‘Now tell me again about all this grass.’

  ‘I’ve already told you.’

  ‘Yes, but then I was up too high.’

  ‘This is good farmland. I can make something out of this.’

  ‘You don’t like the dragoons?’

  ‘Yes, I do. But I don’t want to be a dragoon all my life. I want to have a farm and grow things, and –’ He stopped, clamping his mouth shut.

  ‘And,’ Canna said. ‘There is always something after “and” even in your language, I think.’

  ‘And I want to raise a family.’

  Canna laughed. ‘You make it sound like horses or sheep. You do not raise a family.’

  Ames kicked at the ground with the toe of one boot. ‘Well,’ was all he could say.

  ‘So, I suppose I should try the horse again.’

  Ames looked up. ‘Really? You will?’

  ‘One must always try something twice before making up one’s mind,’ Canna said. ‘Help me up.’

  *

  Strategos Werin Reed had a good idea what the council decision, made in camera so he could not be present, would be, and correctly guessed the council would ask Poloma Malvara and Kadburn Axkevleren to inform him of it; Poloma because he was prefect, and Kadburn because the council thought Reed would recognise him as having some authority, being the only surviving member of Prince Maddyn’s household.

  He was called to the prefect’s chambers in the Assembly, and there was told that the City of Kydan wished to discuss trade relations with the Empire of Hamilay. Nothing less. Nothing more. It told Reed everything he needed to know, of course, since only independent states had to discuss trade relations with one another.

  Reed received the news quietly, sombrely, made a point of bowing, slightly, to Kadburn before Poloma, and then asked if he had permission to leave on the next high tide.

  ‘You need no permission from us, Strategos,’ Poloma said. ‘Representatives of Her Majesty Lerena Kevleren are welcome to come and go in peace at any time.’

  Reed, recognising the qualifier, smiled in appreciation of the fine game they were playing with each other. There would be no declaration, but equally no doubt about where Kydan stood in regard to the empire.

  ‘And please,’ Poloma continued, ‘when you see the empress, pass on our best hopes for a fruitful and cooperative future between our two states, and my personal felicitations.’

  ‘I will inform her majesty of your decision, and relay your good wishes.’

  The formalities being completed, when a small crowd of officials, including Poloma and Kadburn, gathered in the Saddle to farewell Reed, he delivered no fancy speeches, but shook a few hands, listened to their hopes for his safe return to Hamilay, and boarded the Saoa. A short time later Kydan was left behind in its estuary and the bay was widening around him before it became simply the Deepening Sea.

  Reed stood at the stern and tried to memorise as much of Kydan and the land about as he could. He knew he would never return, and he was certain that Lerena, when she finally got around to dealing with the city, would leave nothing behind. He had liked the place and its people, but there was no room in the world anymore for a
ny polity outside of the empire. He had hoped Kydan’s council would take the opportunity to painlessly, easily, slide under the empress’s protection. But they had not seen the world as it really was, and regrettably would pay the price for it.

  Eventually, and with a weary sigh, he returned to his cabin, acknowledging to himself that although he would never want to be anything other than a strategos, sometimes its duties and responsibilities weighed heavily on him indeed.

  *

  Only two among the party that saw Reed off stayed behind until nothing more could be seen of the Saoa. The first was Galys Valera, who was trying to plot a path through the future, and the second was Ensign Lannel Thorey, who was being as quiet as possible for Galys’s sake.

  Galys saw the present splitting into separate branches as time went on, depending on what sequence of events occurred, and each branch in turn splitting again, and then again, and then again. But in Galys’s imagination most of the branches withered and died because for some the sequence of events causing them were unlikely, for others absurd, for others merely wishful thinking on her part. Harder, but as important, was eliminating those branches that arose when she imagined the worst possible sequence of events. In the end, despite all her efforts, she was left with a future that possessed only one sure offshoot. A period, a relatively short period, of peace. Then the coming of the Hamilayans with their warships and armies. From there many branches spiked out, but all involved either the destruction of Kydan or the destruction of . . .

  Galys paused. No, not the destruction of Hamilay. That was not necessary. Not quite.

  And, of course, there were always the imponderables, the things – people, events, nature itself – that skewed any prediction, and the longer the timeframe the more the imponderables crowded in.

  Alas, Galys thought, not too many over two or three years; not enough, as she saw it, to stop the invasion. And two or three years was barely enough time to create a powerful nation state, even with her plans of industry and technology and the new weapons she hoped they would bring, weapons the Kevlerens themselves would repress in their own domain unless they could utterly control them. As far as the Kevlerens were concerned, progress was anathema to the Sefid.