Scimitar War

by Chris A. Jackson

  It was worth it, but only if the financier kept his mouth shut.

  “Excellent.” Parek reached for the door’s brass knob, but then turned back, raising a finger as if a notion had just occurred to him. He had, in fact, planned this conversation very carefully. “There is one other thing that you might be able to help me with. I find myself in the need of a more reputable place to live. The Barony Arms is a fine establishment, but I desire something more permanent. A town house, perhaps. Something on the hill.”

  “Lease or purchase?” Trifold asked, his eyes glinting with the prospect of another commission.

  “Lease, I think. Something elegant and comfortable, but not ostentatious; a place where I would be able to entertain guests.” He smiled at the financier, eying him with intent. “I feel that we have a good working relationship. Can I trust your judgment in this?”

  “Of course, of course! I have just the broker in mind. There are always places for lease.” He scratched a note on a bit of parchment and nodded. “I’ll make some discreet inquiries and have a list of potential properties sent to you at The Arms this evening.”

  “Excellent!” Parek put his hand on the door’s knob, then turned back to the financier with one last instruction. “Please deliver the list personally, Master Trifold. You may join me for drinks in the hotel’s dining room this evening. We will toast our continued profitable, and discreet, relationship.”

  “I will be there, Master Torek!”

  “Very good!” He turned the knob and left the man’s private office without another glance back, satisfied that he had the financier under perfect control. After all, the man had far too much to lose if he betrayed the trust of such a valued customer.

  ≈

  Too soon for Camilla, Cape Storm arrived in Tsing. She clutched Emil’s hand, resisting his pull as he led her out into the late afternoon sun. The deck was crowded, and she cringed as the voices of sailors and marines rose all around her. She felt like they were talking about her—the woman who drank blood—though Emil had assured her that only a handful of people knew what she had been, and none would ever reveal her secret.

  So many people… she thought. So many heartbeats…

  “Lady Camilla.” Captain Donnely stepped into their path, and she forced herself to raise her eyes to his. He was smiling at her. “I’m glad to see you up and about, and may I say, you look wonderful in that gown.”

  She blushed. “Thank you, Captain. I find myself in your debt for this gift…and for my life.” Emil had told her that Huffington and Tim had been passing stories around the ship, praising the captain and his marines for their part in saving her life. The goodwill helped to quash any rumors about what might have been seen during the battle. As a consequence, however, they seemed to have taken a personal stake in her wellbeing, Donnely more so than anyone. “I fear that I can never repay you.”

  “Seeing you hale and happy is payment enough,” he said with a bow. Behind him, a line of officers stood at attention, all beaming at her proudly. “Now I must relieve you of Count Norris’ company so we may attend the emperor.”

  “You’re leaving me?” Camilla clutched Emil’s arm until her knuckles went white. Emil had been at her side constantly, and she had come to depend on him. She knew that eventually she would have to rely on herself, but right now, she still didn’t trust herself alone in a crowd. What if something happened? “Can’t we stay together, Emil? You said we’d go to your home.”

  “Huffington and Tim will accompany you to the house, my dear,” he assured her, patting her hand. “I must report to the emperor. It’s my duty.”

  Camilla glanced dubiously at the pair behind them. Huffington still wore a bandage on his head, though he had donned a hat to cover it. Tim hung over the rail, gazing wide-eyed at dolphins jumping wildly out in the middle of the harbor.

  “Can’t we all go with you?” she suggested, unwilling to be put off. “If we’re not allowed in the palace, we can stay outside.”

  “Actually, milord,” Huffington interrupted, “I need to deliver a message of my own to the palace. Then Tim and I can look after Lady Camilla while you speak to the emperor.”

  Emil turned to Captain Donnely. “Is there room for five in the carriage?”

  “I can ride on top with the driver!” Tim offered before the captain could even open his mouth.

  “Of course,” Donnely said, bowing to Camilla. “I would be honored by your company, Lady Camilla.” He gestured for them to follow him down the gangplank.

  “Thank you, Captain.” She smiled at him gratefully, then squeezed Emil’s arm in thanks.

  As they walked down the pier, Camilla spied a crowd along the quay wall, shouting and pointing toward them, and her knees trembled. Were they pointing at her? Did they know? They would take her, and she was powerless to stop them! She balked, dragging on Emil’s arm, clutching him so hard that her nails threatened to pierce the sleeve of his jacket.

  “Camilla? Are you all right?” His voice was soft and concerned as he touched her hand, though she knew she must be hurting him.

  “I can’t…” She looked at him, but her vision blurred with tears as fears, old and new, closed in around her.

  “I remember this, Father!” Tim interrupted, his face split in a wide grin. “The waterfront! I remember it! We used to come here and look at the ships! And the market, the big one with all the little tents, is just over there!”

  “You remember?” Emil asked excitedly, his attention shifting from her. “All of it?”

  “Not everything, but I remember the house, and the palace, and the bazaar, and the little place where we used to go for breakfast that had eggs cooked in little cups of pastry.” He pointed and laughed, grasping her free hand. “And that’s the shipyard! Oh, Miss Cammy, you’re going to love it here!”

  Tim’s effervescent mood broke the chains of her fear. She had forgotten that he had been born here, and how wonderful it must be for him to be coming home. I have no home, she thought. She had been born in Southaven, but had lived most of her life on Plume Isle. Although Cynthia had made her welcome, Camilla had never felt quite comfortable there; the memories were too painful.

  “I can’t wait to show you everything!” Tim said, squeezing her hand, fairly bursting with enthusiasm.

  “I’m sure I’ll love it, Tim,” she said, and even as the words left her mouth, she realized that this was her home now. Not the city in particular, but wherever Emil and Tim were. They were her family, and home was with them. She squeezed his hand back and smiled. “Thank you.”

  Swallowing her fear, she walked with them to the carriage. She realized that the crowd wasn’t interested in her, but were here to welcome back the sailors and marines.

  The ride to the palace was unpleasant: noisy, smelly, and hot, even with the light evening breeze. Camilla sat close to Emil, glancing out the window, amazed that so many people could live in such close proximity. She kept a firm hold on his hand, and tried not to think of the teeming masses of people.

  Her apprehension renewed when the carriage clattered through an immense gate. The palace courtyard would have accommodated the entire shipyard of Plume Isle. A uniformed attendant opened the carriage door and proffered a satin-gloved hand. She was reluctant to release Emil’s, but at his urging, she accepted the help and stepped down. The grandeur of the palace was overwhelming; never had she seen such splendor.

  “I remember this, too!” Tim said, hopping down from the driver’s seat. “I’ve been here!”

  “Many times, Tim,” Emil said, taking Camilla’s hand once again, though his attention was on his son. “You’ve even met the emperor once or twice, and his sons many times.”

  “Corryn and Arlyn,” Tim said, eyes widening. “The princes’ names are Corryn and Arlyn!”

  “Correct. You used to come here and play
in the gardens with them on special occasions. I believe you were last here for Corryn’s tenth birthday celebration.”

  “There was a white horse. A gift from the emperor. We all rode it!” Tim’s voice had taken on a whimsical note. “It didn’t like me.”

  “As I remember, it was a pony, and the vile little beast didn’t like anyone.” Emil laughed as they were ushered up the carpeted steps into the palace. He was obviously at ease here, but Camilla’s fear remained a shadow in her mind.

  Tim pointed and commented as they were led by the satin-gloved attendant through the halls of the palace. It was a surprisingly busy place, with courtiers and nobles walking about in astonishingly beautiful dress. They passed a room where courtiers sat at tables, chatting, drinking and playing various games. A couple exited the room, and stopped to greet Count Norris. Camilla stared at them, so beautiful and graceful. She curtsied as Emil introduced her, and managed a faint smile. Despite the beautiful dress she wore, after so long without a proper bath and nothing to fix her hair with, she knew she must look dreadful. The fear and vulnerability began to surface again, and she fought it down. Surely she was safe here.

  Finally, their escort showed them into an elegantly decorated sitting room, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a wide lawn. An attendant placed a salver of treats on the low table. Another brought a tray with a cut-crystal carafe full of honey-hued wine, and matching goblets.

  “His Majesty will see you shortly, Count Norris. Captain Donnely, if you please would follow me.”

  “Right.” Donnely turned to Camilla. “My lady.” He astonished her by taking her hand and bowing over it, his lips brushing her knuckles. He smiled warmly as he stood back. “I hope we will meet again. If you ever need my services, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “Thank you,” she said, embarrassed by the display. He turned and left behind the attendant, and Camilla shook her head. “He seems so…different from when I met him on Plume Isle. Then he was all bluster and commands.”

  “The captain has seen a lot since then,” Emil said, accepting a glass of wine from the attendant and handing it to her. He offered one to Tim, who sipped it and barely hid his grimace of distaste, and another to Huffington, who declined. “Watching Akrotia destroy Vulture and Plume Isles humbled him, I think. His bravado has taken a few dents.”

  “I can’t say as I envy him right now,” Huffington said, availing himself of the tray of delicate treats. “Bearer of bad tidings and all.”

  Camilla sipped her wine and stared out the glass doors at a fountain splashing into a pool of water lilies, the sun low over the garden walls. The men’s voices faded as she let her mind wander from one thought to the next: water, oceans, ships, Cynthia, Edan, Akrotia, Plume Isle…Hydra…blood.

  “His Majesty will see you now.”

  The voice startled Camilla from thoughts that had gone as dark as the garden outside. Though her wineglass was still nearly full, the crystal facets now twinkled only with the light from the chandelier overhead. She could no longer see the garden through the glass doors, just her own reflection. She turned away.

  Emil approached. “I should not be long, my dear.”

  “Pardon, Milord Count,” the attendant said, “but His Majesty desires you all to attend him.”

  “Very well,” Emil said with a raised eyebrow. “Shall we?” He drained his wineglass and held his arm out to her.

  A tendril of fear crept up her spine, and her mouth went dry. Why would the emperor want to see her? She took a parting sip of wine, put the glass down and placed her hand on Emil’s arm. He must have felt a tremor in her grasp, for he put his other hand over hers and squeezed.

  “Not to worry, my dear,” he whispered in her ear. “He’s just an emperor. We’ve faced worse.”

  They were ushered to a guarded double door where the men were required to relinquish their weapons. Emil, as a noble, had been allowed to wear his sword into the city, and he laid it on the highly polished table. Tim surprised her by retrieving a dagger from his boot and relinquishing it, and she gaped as Huffington pulled various implements, one after the other, from his clothing and piled them onto a silver tray. He caught her staring, and quirked a small smile. She remembered how she had distrusted him after their first meeting; it seemed a lifetime ago.

  The doors opened and Emil swept her inside. To Camilla’s first brief glance, the room imparted an impression of opulence. Amidst the green and gold marble and glittering lamps, her eyes were drawn to the one dark feature. A tall woman dressed all in black glowered at her, her hand resting on the hilt of a sheathed sword. Camilla shivered as she imagined the blade slashing into her, splashing black blood and revealing her dark secrets, but the woman’s gaze passed over her without recognition. Directly in front of them a man sat behind an ornate table directly in front of them. He wore a green silk doublet embroidered with gold, and a golden circlet upon his brow.

  “Your Majesty,” Emil said, bending to one knee.

  Camilla curtsied as gracefully as her quaking knees allowed, noting the grinning young man wearing a silver circlet, who stood to the emperor’s right.

  “Corryn!” Tim exclaimed.

  “Tim!” Emil hissed, grasping his son’s arm firmly. Camilla glanced sidelong to see Tim kneel awkwardly, blushing in embarrassment at his outburst.

  The prince grinned, and waved surreptitiously to his boyhood friend.

  “You may rise,” the emperor said, his voice edged with stress and…something else. Fear? Yes, that was it. Camilla was well acquainted with fear. “Count Norris, We are pleased to see you and yours alive and well. Congratulations on the recovery of your son. We know how sorely his disappearance affected you.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty,” Emil said with a short bow. “I believe you know my secretary, Mister Huffington, and my son, Timothy. This is Lady Camilla, of whom you have read in my missives concerning the seamage. She is…in my care.”

  “Your letters did not do the lady credit, Count Norris. Her beauty graces Our presence.”

  “Your Majesty is too kind,” Camilla replied, curtsying again as heat flushed her cheeks.

  “We will hear a detailed account of your activities in the Shattered Isles at a later time, Count Norris, and We expect you to attend a council in the morning to address the threat of Akrotia.”

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” Emil agreed.

  “There is first, however, a matter that requires both your attention, and that of Lady Camilla. We hope you don’t think Us presumptuous, but according to Captain Donnely’s report, you two are…very close, and the lady will be staying at your residence.”

  Camilla blushed, while Emil replied, “That is true, Your Majesty.”

  “Very well.” The emperor gestured to a guard who stood beside a small door to one side of the room. The guard opened the door, and a woman entered. She was dressed in a gray uniform with a white apron, and held a blanket-wrapped bundle in her arms. Camilla didn’t understand; she had never seen this woman before. She glanced at Emil, and from his blank expression, she could tell that he, too, didn’t recognize her. Then the bundle gurgled, and a little head popped out from under the woman’s hair to peer anxiously down into the blankets.

  “Mouse!” Tim yelped, starting forward, only to be pulled back by Emil’s grip on his arm.

  “Eep?” Mouse chirped, perking up from his position on the nursemaid’s shoulder. He did not, however, launch into the air to meet them as Camilla suspected he might. Instead, he looked warily at the tall woman in black who now stood before the emperor, her sword drawn and a scowl on her face as she watched the little sprite.

  “You’re afraid of Mouse?” Tim asked with a snort of laughter that was cut short by Emil.

  Without realizing that she had moved, Camilla found herself walking toward the nursemaid. She reached a hand out to the
bundle of blankets, then hesitated. Misreading her intentions, the nursemaid deposited the bundle in Camilla’s arms, then folded back the blanket.

  A baby peered up at her, green eyes wide and trusting, pink lips pursed as they blew a bubble. Mouse hopped off the nursemaid’s shoulder to Camilla’s arm, then cuddled down next to the baby, patting its face and planting kisses on its soft brow.

  “Cynthia’s baby?” she whispered.

  “His name is Kloe, after Master Ghelfan,” Tim said as he moved to her side.

  “I don’t understand, Your Majesty,” she heard Emil say. “The seamage’s child?”

  “The child is currently a ward of the empire. As Lady Camilla was companion and confidant to the seamage, We feel it is appropriate that she, and you, be appointed as the child’s guardians.”

  “If it pleases Your Majesty,” Emil said, “where are the seamage and her husband?”

  “For actions that led to the loss of Our ships Clairissa and Fire Drake,” the emperor declared, “Cynthia Flaxal Brelak was sentenced to ten years in the imperial prison. Feldrin Brelak will be executed for treason in twenty-five days.”

  “Executed!” Tim gasped.

  “Tim! Quiet!” Emil rebuked his son sharply.

  The rest of their short time in the emperor’s presence was lost to Camilla. She heard various apologies and orders, then felt Emil gently wrap his arm around her shoulders and guide her from the room. In the back of her mind, Camilla grieved over Cynthia and Feldrin’s plights, but those troubles seemed far away. The warm little bundle in her arms was real. She frowned as she ran her fingers over Kloe’s soft cheek and down his neck, finally resting them on his chest. Her fingertips pulsed in time to his heartbeat. He was so small, so fragile.