If they were not, then quite apart from the further spread of the Fish Faces, the Star Lords would summon me for judgment—and punishment.
When at last Kirsty and Rodders paid their courtesy call on me, I deliberately pitched the whole thing into a low key. I was just as simply dressed. I waited for them at the gangplank of Shankjid and I welcomed them aboard in a natural way—at least, I hoped it was natural—giving them the Lahal and watching as they observed the fantamyrrh.
During the brief conversation over miscils and palines and sazz, Kirsty did say in her sharp way: “You deceived me, majister. Did you consider the embarrassment I would suffer when I found out your trick?"
“There is no need for that."
I didn't add that by acting correctly at the time any backward look could not make her feel embarrassed.
Rodders said: “Now I wonder about that wager, majister. From all I read of Dray Prescot and his friend Seg Segutorio, they are bowmen to test the best in Erthyrdrin."
“Seg don't test ‘em,” I said, dryly. “He beats ‘em."
The reception finished on a more friendly note as Delia set to work in her subtle, devious and downright cunning way to make Kirsty regain some composure. I suppose she'd gone back over her memories, searching for some horrible faux pas she'd made, and hoping desperately not to find a single one. We sent them off more cheerful than when they'd arrived.
Delia said in a voice like the cat that has supped the cream: “They accepted tacitly, without question, the fact that you are emperor."
“Oh, aye, my heart. I'm some kind of emperor. As, indeed, you are more than some kind of empress. But of what? I cannot believe that anyone of Paz is going to swallow that without—"
“Hush! Tsleetha-tsleethi. Softly-softly. We've made a start."
In these later passages I realize I must sound puffed with self-importance, bloated with self-esteem, stupid with self-glory and power.
This is not so. It has been said that respect equals power. Sometimes I caught a little dent between Delia's eyebrows when Mevancy called me cabbage, say, or Llodi addressed me as Drajak. Yet she knew the reasons for these ways of going on. If I was going wrong in my handling of the emperor's slot, Delia would put me right. If the people didn't want me to be their leader, then, by Djan-kadjiryon, I'd be only too happy to leave!
Delia walked with her graceful litheness to stand at the opening of the tent, holding to a rope. I caught my breath. Blood-thumping and heart-stopping is Delia, empress of majesty. Khe-Hi-Bjanching walked into the tent past Delia, turning to smile at her and nod respectfully. He wore a simple saffron robe with a silver hem and a flat hat of some obscure provenance, girdled with little golden hearts.
“Delia!” he said. “Dray! Good news!"
He wasn't actually there in the tent with us. As far as we knew he was still in Whonban to the north. His unlined face and lively expression summed up a fellow whose much-loved wife had recently had twins.
Delia turned back and crossed to me as I moved towards her. We touched hands as the Wizard of Loh went on.
“Fleet Admiral Harulf ham Hilzim has gathered some survivors of that dreadful battle. He's on his way. Better to wait for him—"
The figure of Khe-Hi wavered. His saffron robe suffused with a bloody red. His voice trailed off. Just before he disappeared the last we heard was: “The interference—Deb-Lu will—Remberee!"
“Remberee, Khe-Hi,” said Delia, gravely, speaking to the air.
This item of news livened us up. With a handful of vollers we could materially improve the chances of the unpowered vorlcas. Kirsty's army moved out, traveling by night, hiding by day. They were well-provisioned. When they were set, the Vallian fleet would fly. The gangs would close in, no doubt still wrangling about the power sharing to come after the victory.
On the morning of the day specified for the fleet to move, I stepped outside the tent and scanned the early sky. A few clouds, the brilliance of the suns, a scattering of birds.
Delia said: “Where in a Herrelldrin Hell are they?"
Seg ambled over from his tent, screwing his face up to the sky.
“Well, my old dom, we didn't expect ‘em, so we'll do without ‘em."
“I suppose we'll have to,” I grumped.
Although Inch is a head taller than us it gave him no advantage in seeing now. He stuck his head out of his own tent and looked up. “What are you moaning about?” he demanded. A hand thrust through the opening and a rigid finger pointed up. “Look!"
We swung about. Drifting low above the trees a voller flew into sight, and another, and then more.
Yells broke from the camps. “The Hamalese! By Vox, the Hamalese!"
To say this reminded me of our gallant Prussian allies after Ligny arriving at Waterloo is probably unnecessary. But the thought was there.
The vollers looked knocked about. They flew their flags bravely. They swung in good formation to make touch downs in open areas. Just how it happened was never ascertained, even at the Court of Inquiry. Two fliers touched. They collided with considerable force and in the contrary and frighteningly vicious way of these things, they both burst into flames.
Smoking and spewing flames they fell to the ground.
A shocked silence constrained everyone. Not for some time did normalcy return to the camp as we set about the breakfasts and then the final preparations for departure. I gave Hilzim a great welcome; but I saw the shadows in his face. The accident had shaken us all. As we flew off for the grand attack on Taranjin, was this a portent for the future?
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* * *
Chapter nineteen
The maps of Taranjin were pored over again and again until we knew every back street and alley. Like many cities of Kregen at this time, Taranjin was a higgledy-piggledy mess. Well, when a cornered rat fights he or she likes to have a tortuous corkscrewy maze of alleys in which to surprise the adversary.
Our advance was materially assisted in that the Shank aerial fleet had gone north to deal with the Hamalese. They flew patrols; they could be avoided. There were only a couple of quick flare-ups and in both the Fish Face went down, burning. Below us spread the outskirts of the city and the tiny dots of the gangs of Freedom Fighters closing in.
I spoke to Balass the Hawk as he stood at the rail, impassive in armor, shield resting on the deck, his black face intent on the scene below. “That Fan-Si, Balass."
“Oh, aye. A pretty enough little Fristle fifi. Wild, though."
“Too wild at times. By Kaidun! She willfully won't wear her armor, even when the consequences are spelled out to her."
Balass cocked an eye at me. “It gets in the way at times."
Even for folk who spend a very great deal of time in armor, still, it can get in the way at times. I sighed. “See if you can make sure she wears her armor, Balass. All her friends are with us here."
“I can but tell her. If she takes it off I can't buckle it on."
Then Targon the Tapster came up with a query and Balass and I left the topic of willful little Fristle fifis.
Balass would take command of a group of folk who were associated with us in a loose kind of way—auxiliaries, almost. I'd told Llodi that I didn't want him in that group, and detailed Korero the Shield to take Llodi under his wing as a supernumerary to help out in that department.
Delia said: “And I'll look out for Mevancy."
“She's good; she's not a Jikai Vuvushi—"
“I've told her to reserve her bindles for emergencies. She'll do all right, and my girls will chip in."
Seg laughed. “I'm saddled with that young rip Rollo."
“He did well when we saw that Shank off—"
“Oh, aye. By the Veiled Froyvil! We've all got to do well now!"
Well, that was true enough—hurtfully true.
Seg favored me with one of his sideways looks that always seem to sum me up complete. “You using that unmentionable again?"
“Llodi is with Korer
o; but he'll span for me."
“Um."
“I'll keep my own longbow, though. Don't fret."
“I trust Erthanfydd the Meticulous has cast his intolerant eye—?"
“Of a surety."
“Remember,” said Seg, and he half lifted a fist, “remember the Battle of Jholaix?"
“Aye."
“I was working it out. This coming fight may seem the same, apart from the town element. But it's different."
I knew exactly what he meant. At Jholaix our vorlcas had acted like a fleet, a single organism under sail. Anyway, we'd been fighting against the Hamalese, then. Jholaix had been fought before the creation of the Vallian Phalanx Force, before Delia and I were empress and emperor. Looking back, did it seem to me the days were freer then, more sunny, more open and careless? Maybe. Ahead and below the sea sparkled and the city of Taranjin lay spread before us. The time for action had arrived, the time for dreaming had passed.
One last single pang hit me then. Jholaix had been fought whilst we were waiting for Velia, who was now dead, to be born.
“Sail ho!"
The shout scythed through the air, shrill and excited.
We all looked up.
At first sight it appeared the sky was filled with ships.
We saw the banners. Those treshes flew back bravely as this fleet circled us. Red and yellow. A yellow saltire and cross on a scarlet field—the Union Flag of Vallia!
I cocked an eye up at my own flag, Old Superb, flying above, the yellow cross on the scarlet field. There were many other treshes, flags of the provinces of Vallia, flags of nobles, a brilliant field of color over the fleet.
Seg said: “I make it fifty, and Drak isn't with ‘em."
Delia said, on a breath: “He'll be far too busy running Vallia."
“Look there,” I said, sharply, pointing. “Hyrklana. And if I'm not mistaken that's Jaidur's flag."
“Yes,” said his mother at my side. “Oh, yes!"
A couple of two-place fliers span up and headed towards us.
The Admiral of the Vallian Fleet, Vangar ti Valkanium, stepped aboard with a quick salute and then he stepped smartly aside as a brisk bustling figure jumped down, shouting.
“Dray! I am here!” Then: “Delia! My most humble respects!"
“Good grief!” I said. “What's got into you?” For this was Nath na Kochwold, the stern disciplinarian, the Kapt of the Phalanx Force.
“Out into the field at last, out adventuring, that's what!"
Vangar ti Valkanium was just as upright and scrubbed and filled with the same integrity as when I'd first met him, all those seasons ago in The Rose of Valka by the Great Northern Cut of Vondium. “Nath has been like a child on his birthday all the trip, Dray. He won't sit still."
“Well, there's work for him.” I looked meaningfully at Vangar. “How is the Lord Farris?"
Vangar scowled. “He is not well, and he won't stop working.” Vangar's scowl deepened. “He knows I don't want his damned job until—well, until there is nothing else. If only he'd rest!"
“He scraped up this force for us down here? What of the emperor?"
Vangar nodded. “Farris has found these ships from somewhere—well, I know how he did it, of course. The emperor concurred, although he is in dire need of ships himself."
Delia said, sharply: “Tell me, Vangar!"
“Those idiots of the Bloody Menahem."
At that moment the second flier touched down and Jaidur leaped out. He looked fit, bronzed, active; but there was an odd look to him I didn't like. That almost sullen and resigned look only partially lifted as he greeted his mother. Over his shoulder she looked at me, our gazes locked. We both understood there was trouble at home in Hyrklana.
Seg said: “Welcome all. The Shank fleet must have been following you—"
“For,” chimed in Inch, “there they are!"
Up over the horizon rim floated the Shank fleet, dark against the suns’ glitter.
Nath na Kochwold burst out: “Put me and the lads down, and you can have your aerial battle, Vangar. Keep ‘em off our necks."
I said to Nath: “Which Phalanx?” for I knew Drak would be able to spare only one.
“Fifth."
“Ah,” I said. “Ninth and Tenth Kerchuris. I have fond memories of the Tenth. Very prickly."
We had been going through a profound alteration of the Phalanx organization before I'd been wrenched away from Valka by the Star Lords. Drak had given that task to me as something to do, and Nath and I had worked hard on tables and command charts to rig the Phalanx Force for its role in the new reduced army needed after the Times of Troubles.
Nath was looking at me expectantly. So was Vangar. So was Oby. So, by Zair, were a lot of folk!
The usual dilemma confronted me.
I could not be in two places at once—not unless the Everoinye willed it, as they had done on a number of notable occasions. Where I chose to fight would have considerable weight in the battle.
The Shank fleet fleeting on so swiftly towards us presented now a much less formidable menace. This newly arrived Vallia fleet might consist of ancient vollers, patched fliers, a rabble of the air; they were true vollers, with their own power. My place was with the lads of my Guard Corps.
The moment I told them my decision, Vangar rapped out: “As I guessed. I'll be off back to my flagship. Opaz fly with you—"
“And with you, Vangar."
Jaidur barely looked at us as he kissed Delia and then flew off to his Hyrklanian flagship. He must have traveled hard and fast to get here and join in. Delia looked at me. But we said nothing for now.
We knew the coming battle was going to be a messy fight. All the disparate elements would combine in an untidy way. To try to bring some kind of order—very difficult beforehand and practically impossible once contact was joined—I'd organized some of the flutduin troops into a messenger service. Normally one used fluttcleppers or volcleppers for merkers; our messengers would use the superb flutduins.
One such messenger group had been placed at Kuong's disposal. I told him he would be our liaison with Queen Kirsty and her army. When they burst in with the Freedom Fighters, the slaves must rise. The Vallians would be landing inside the city by then. Vangar, we all trusted, would hold off the Shanks’ aerial attack.
I said to Nath na Kochwold: “I trust you have other troops besides the Fifth Phalanx?"
“Oh, yes,” he said, not quite off-handedly, but almost. He prized the pike-wielding brumbytes of his Phalanx above rubies, did Nath! “Churgurs, kreutzin, archers, spearmen, artillery, cavalry—although not much of that, by Vox! A brigade of totrixmen, lance and bow, and a brigade of swarths."
“Zorcas? Nikvoves?"
He shook his head so the bright red feathers in his pikeman's helmet fluttered. “No. I had Drig's own trouble finding zorcas for my commanders—and myself. Some regimental infantry Jiktars are riding the poor man's zorca and old Jik Ortyg nov Thandin is riding a preysany."
“A preysany! A Vallian regimental commander riding an animal only a whisker removed from a calsany! We must be scraping the barrel!” Delia pulled her rapier around in an irritable gesture. She and I, we both knew the intolerable costs of blasphemous wars.
Nath agreed and then, with a smile that was almost a leer, said: “You might be interested to know I have the Forty Third Mixed Infantry Brigade with me.” He saw the way Seg and I brightened up. “Yes, I thought so! Well, by Vox, I'm out having some fun this time!"
He added that to balance the brigade a regiment of kreutzin had been detailed to cover the heavy infantry, spearmen and archers.
Whilst all these very necessary preliminaries had been taking place Kirsty had moved her army up into the open and together with the gangs of Freedom Fighters was advancing at a smart trot.
Overhead the aerial fights began as the Shanks tried to break through Vangar and disrupt the ground attack. Hilzim's Hamalese vollers played a full part, and already ships were burning.
Nath cocked an eye at me.
His voller-towed vorlcas were dropping down into the city. If the slaves rose at sight of these fighting men chasing Fish Faces we ought to have Taranjin sewed up. My Guard Corps might not even be engaged—a development that would please me and displease the lads.
Everything was going swimmingly. The air battle was swinging in our favor. The ground battle had already seen Kirsty's army breaking through and the streets awash with Shank blood as Vallians cut swathes through their fishy ranks. And, uncommitted, we retained a powerful reserve.
“I must join—” began Nath.
“Of course. Opaz be with you."
He was off at once, streaking down to his beloved Phalanx. Not, I fancied, that they'd do much more than hold the wider streets and avenues this day, and let the other fighting men clear the alleys.
Our Flutduin squadrons worried the Fish Faces. The superb birds cavorted above the Shank vollers, swirling and tormenting, and their riders—young men and women of Valka—flung firepots with savage abandon. Many a fine Shank flier burned at the hands of the flutduin squadrons. And there were more than one or two of those brave youngsters brought down with a shaft skewering through them, or their flyer badly wounded.
But the day was going well.
We'd held the vorlcas of the Guard Corps to windward of the city so as to be able to sail down to any spot we selected. I was beginning to consider actually landing to hold our position instead of continually tacking back and forth, which can be a wearying exercise.
A merker flew up from the city where already smoke was fanning out in palls and concealing much of what went forward down there. It seemed to me that the battling fleets were nearer than they had been. I pointed this out to Seg and Inch.
“You're right, my old dom."
“Our fleet is being pushed back! By Ngrangi—we're losing!"
A boil of figures spewed from the city, animated manikins running and falling—and the ferocious forms of Fish Faces following with deadly tridents stabbing, stabbing...
“What, in the name of the Heavenly Twins, is going on?” demanded Delia.
I kept silent. Milsi said: “It's going wrong."
Scorpio Ablaze [Dray Prescot #41] Page 17
