“Private Perceval, ma’am.” The younger guard refused to even meet her eyes.
“Thank you. Please call me Cynthia. We’re apparently going to be spending a lot of time together, so I see no reason to be formal.” She let her smile slip a trifle. “Just so we understand one another, let me explain a few things to you. You heard the emperor ask for my aid to fight Akrotia, and you saw me sign that contract at Count Norris’ home. My husband is in the imperial prison, and will likely be put to death if I violate that contract, which prevents me from any nonsense.”
“We understand that, ma’am,” the corporal said.
“If the emperor trusts me not to violate the contract, then you should, too. But if you get nervous and stick that sword through me, there’ll be no one to stop Akrotia from coming here and burning Tsing to the ground, which might just upset the emperor more than a little bit. So relax!”
“Yes, ma’am,” the corporal said, glancing at his companion and purposefully removing his hand from his weapon. Private Perceval followed suit.
“Thank you, Corporal Terwillaby.” Keeping her eye on them, she called up a tendril of the sea. The guards’ eyes widened and they took a step back, but neither reached for their swords. “See, nothing to worry about.” She smiled at them and turned her attention to her work.
The sea caressed her bare feet, and she felt renewed, realizing how she had missed that sensation. She sent out a gentle pulse of sound, and waited. The water in the center of the harbor roiled, and wavelets spread out from four parallel wakes as the mer shot toward the quay. When it seemed like they might hit the stone structure, they broke the surface, expressions of glee stretching their faces wide.
*Tailwalker! Chaser!* Cynthia signed, astonished that Broadtail would send his son on such a long journey, especially after what had happened at Akrotia. *What are you doing here?*
While the other mer flicked nervous glances between the soldiers and the nearby warships, Tailwalker flipped his tail vigorously, bringing his torso out of the water to sign clearly.
*Greetings, Seamage Flaxal Brelak! It is good to see you are alive, but I do not see your heir. Is your finling well?*
*Forgive my rudeness, my friend,* she signed in chagrin. *I greet you gladly. I am well, and my baby is fine, Tailwalker, but there is trouble. My husband and I are being held by the emperor of the landwalkers to atone for the destruction of his ships and the deaths of his sailors. It will be many seasons before we are free.*
*Seasons? That is not good, Seamage Flaxal Brelak. It is not fair that you are blamed for something the mer did.* He bobbed in the water as he lashed his tail in agitation. *Tell the emperor of the landwalkers that it was Eelback’s plot that caused the school to declare war, and that he paid for his betrayal with his life.*
Cynthia shrugged, a gesture shared by both mer and landwalker. *The families of those who were killed will not accept that, Tailwalker. They want someone to blame, and I am here.*
*Then you must not remain here, Seamage Flaxal Brelak. Step into the sea with us and flee!*
*I cannot, Tailwalker. The emperor holds my husband.* She made another sign of helplessness. *Why has Broadtail sent you here?*
*We have come to tell you that Akrotia has come to the Shattered Isles. It burned your home with the fire of the mountain.*
*I know, Tailwalker,* she signed, her heart breaking anew at the thought of her home reduced to ashes. *This is the reason the emperor of the landwalkers has set me free…for a while. He wants me to fight Akrotia.*
*The mer will help you, Seamage Flaxal Brelak! We have already tried once to trap the floating city, but it broke away by burning our ironweed cables. Broadtail and the school are following it, and will try again. Hopefully the warships that follow will take advantage and attack. They did not seem to understand what we did.* Tailwalker’s tail flipped even faster with excitement. *Tell the emperor of the landwalkers that we will help them if they release you and your husband!*
Hope flickered briefly in Cynthia’s heart, but she shook her head. *I will tell him, Tailwalker, but he will not believe me. I accept your offer for aid fighting Akrotia, but I do not know how to do it. Tell me everything you know of Akrotia. We must find a weakness and plan our attack.*
≈
Grim faces greeted Cynthia in the council chamber. She flicked a glance over them, then settled on the friendlier mien of Count Norris. The count stood and pulled out a chair for her beside his. She curtsied quickly to the emperor, and sat.
“This is the seamage Cynthia Flaxal Brelak,” the count said before returning to his seat. He introduced the others seated at the table, and Cynthia nodded politely. Only the elvish ambassador, Master Troielstian, smiled at her. His features kindled memories of Ghelfan, and her heart ached.
“What did you learn from your merfolk friends, Mrs. Flaxal Brelak?” the emperor asked.
“Other than the deplorable state of the water in the harbor, Your Majesty, I learned that the mer have already attempted to immobilize Akrotia once. When it approached Plume Isle, they hooked lines onto its hull and moored it to the seabed. Unfortunately, Edan brought a lava flow down to burn the mooring lines and escaped. They were disappointed that the imperial warships did not take advantage of their help, but they understand that most landwa—um, humans, may not recognize their intentions. But they continue to follow Akrotia north, and have vowed to help however they can.”
“To help you, or our warships?” asked the port admiral, his tone bitter.
“To help us, Admiral,” she stressed, fighting to keep her temper in check. “We’re on the same side, after all.”
“A fact that everyone here must keep in mind,” the emperor reiterated, leveling a glare at the admiral that would have hulled a warship. “Mrs. Flaxal Brelak has agreed to help Us against this menace. We will not tolerate dissension within Our ranks.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Lewell accepted the rebuke with a respectful nod.
“So, the merfolk know nothing more of Akrotia’s weaknesses. That is unfortunate.”
“They did learn something that may be helpful. Apparently, Edan keeps the submerged portion of the city relatively free of his fire magic. Though the surrounding waters are warm, the mer can tolerate it, and they did manage to hook lines into it without being boiled alive. So they can approach the city at will.”
“Well, that is something, We suppose.” The emperor frowned and scanned the faces around the table. “Ambassador Troielstian, can you shed any light on this situation? Mrs. Flaxal Brelak informed us that Akrotia was built by elves and mer together.”
“That is correct, Your Majesty,” the ambassador replied. “I have consulted with several individuals intimately familiar not only with the structure of Akrotia, but with its magic.” He shot a piercing look at Cynthia. “They were intrigued to hear that a pyromage has been accepted as the city’s new heart. It was designed only to accept a seamage.”
“Edan is…special,” Cynthia said, “as far as elemental mages go. He received gifts from both Phekkar and Odea during his ascension. That’s why he can control wind as well as fire.”
“Ah. That is interesting, indeed.” The ambassador smiled at her, then turned to the emperor. “If you wish it, Majesty, I can ask aid from those who helped design Akrotia. This situation is intriguing enough that I believe they will agree.”
“Excuse me, Ambassador Troielstian,” Cynthia interrupted, “but it’s my understanding that Akrotia is more than a thousand years old. The designers are still alive?”
“Akrotia first floated free one thousand, one hundred thirty-four years ago, Mrs. Flaxal Brelak,” the ambassador admitted with another piercing gaze. “And her designers are still alive and hale, and will be, barring some mayhem or accident, for far more years than you, your children or your children’s children will see. Years, and even cen
turies, do not lie heavily upon the shoulders of true elves. Even I, who carry some human heritage in my bloodline, will last yet a few centuries more.”
The emperor silenced the murmurs of the council members by raising one hand. “While We are grateful for the offer, Ambassador Troielstian, We doubt that Akrotia’s designers could arrive soon enough to be of aid. Based on the last sighting of Akrotia and estimates of its speed, it could potentially arrive here in as few as ten days. The roads are…”
The emperor’s voice trailed off as Ambassador Troielstian shook his head, his smile now rather embarrassed.
“Elves are not constrained by conventional means of travel, Your Majesty. Akrotia’s designers may arrive as soon as two days hence, if they are willing.”
“Magic!” spat General Plank.
“Not magic as you would recognize it, General,” Troielstian said, “but not mundane, either. Elves have inhabited this land far longer than humans, and we know many things that you will never discover. Suffice it to say that we walk paths where neither sunlight nor shadow fall.”
The general frowned prodigiously.
“Knowledge of this ability is not generally shared,” the ambassador warned. “We find that it makes humans rather…suspicious of us.”
“We will take it upon your word that this is possible, Ambassador Troielstian,” the emperor said before the discussion could digress further. “Please send Our most humble regards to your queen, and ask that she give permission for her people to aid us in this endeavor. Be assured; word of your people’s abilities will not spread beyond this room.” He swept those present with a warning glare, and heads dipped in acquiescence.
“Very well,” he continued. “We will reconvene this council after the arrival of Akrotia’s designers. You will all receive notice as to the date and time.”
The emperor stood, and everyone else followed suit. The sovereign departed first, his entourage in tow. Murmurs broke out among the rest when the door closed behind him, and Norris turned to Cynthia.
“Well, that gives us some time; two days at least.”
“You’ve already done so much for me, I feel inconsiderate asking you for another favor, but I’d like to see Feldrin, if you can arrange it.” She tried to smile to convey her gratitude, but she found that her face would not make the effort. The stress of the day’s events had fatigued her, and she longed for some quiet rest.
“I expected you would, and I’ve put in a request.” Norris offered her his arm as they left the room amid the bustling of the other council members. “All we can do now is wait, and hope the emperor grants it.”
Chapter 27
Strategies
“Can’t say much fer the decor,” Feldrin said as he ducked through the door the jailor had just opened. The room was small, poorly lit and had only a single oak table and two chairs for furnishings.
“Just take a seat,” the jailor ordered, indicating the nearer of the two chairs. The two guards who had accompanied Feldrin from his cell took station on either side of the door, their thick arms folded across barrel chests, billy clubs hanging from their belts.
Feldrin did as he was told. The manacles they’d put on his wrists jangled as he sat, and the chair creaked under his weight. He stared at the door opposite the one he’d entered, wondering where it led. He’d learned early that asking questions earned him nothing but silence or a rebuke, so he stayed silent. They had brought him here for a reason, and only patience would eventually satisfy his curiosity.
The other door finally opened, and a vision from his dreams stood there.
“Cyn!” Feldrin surged up from his seat.
“Sit down, son,” the jailor warned. The guards clapped their hands on his shoulders, and Feldrin sank back onto the chair.
Feldrin’s heart leapt into his throat as his wife stepped into the room, a vision in a sea-green gown. To make the dream complete, Kloe cooed and fussed in Cynthia’s arms, looking happy and healthy, his pudgy fists clenching her bodice as his legs kicked inside the swaddling blanket. She had two guards of her own, but they wore imperial livery, not prison guard uniforms. They led her to the other chair, then stood back.
“Hello lass,” he said, his voice choked with emotion.
“Hello,” she said, and he saw the tears glittering in her eyes. Pulling down the blanket, she propped Kloe up to face him. The baby squealed in protest before his eyes focused across the table. He thrust a tiny hand out toward his father. Cynthia hiccupped a little laugh. “He misses you.”
“And I miss the both of you.” Feldrin reached his manacled hands across the table. Her slim fingers clutched one, and Kloe’s tiny hand latched upon one finger of his other. Kloe smiled and squealed again. Feldrin blinked back tears of sheer joy, then sobered and looked into Cynthia’s eyes. “Unless they let the women prisoners dress much better than the men, yer out.”
“For the moment,” she said hesitantly, nodding to the two guards framing the door behind her. “He hasn’t commuted my sentence, but I’ve made a deal with him, and I’m out of prison until our…business is concluded.”
“Business?” He didn’t like the sound of that. “What kinda business?”
“Akrotia…Edan, followed us, Feldrin. He destroyed Plume Isle by erupting the volcano. Vulture Isle, too. And he burned an imperial ship.”
“And it’s comin’ here?” He shook his head, remembering their last view of the burning city, thankful to be well away from its blinding heat.
“Heading north, anyway,” she said, her tone resigned. “Captain Donnely brought a report; apparently Joslan’s got a small fleet keeping an eye on it. The emperor sent a ship to intercept them and find out what’s going on. He’s also sent for the elves, to see if they can shed any light on the situation. There’s a council meeting this afternoon to determine a strategy.”
Suddenly he understood; his reprieve, her release, this visit. “The emperor wants you to fight it. That’s the deal you made; my life fer yers.”
“Not my life, Feldrin, just my help.” She leaned forward and her fingers tightened on his, a conspiratorial smile tugging at her mouth. “Edan can’t burn me if I’m underwater, Feldrin. But yes; I bargained my help for your life, and a shorter sentence. You’ll only serve five years if I stop Akrotia. Twenty if I fail.”
“And your sentence?”
Cynthia shook her head. “He wouldn’t negotiate my sentence, Feldrin, but at least you’re not going to face the guillotine, and you’ll get to watch Kloe grow up. Norris and Cammy are taking care of him, and he’ll be waiting for you when you get out.”
“Cammy? She’s…all right?”
“She seems to be. She’s here, and she’s…well, she’s Cammy, though she’s…changed.” Cynthia glanced at the guards. “She had a rough time of it. I think she’ll be okay, though she needs to regain some weight.”
Feldrin stared at her. “So, you negotiated for my life and a reduced sentence, yer facin a battle with a floatin’ city possessed by a crazed pyromage, and yer worryin’ that Cammy’s too skinny?” He shook his head and laughed out loud. “Odea’s green garters, lass, ya might have at least negotiated fer a room with a view.”
“What was I thinking?” she said, her smile brightening for a moment, then fading again. “Don’t worry, Feldrin. We’ll be a proper family again, I promise.”
Cynthia started to pull away, but he clutched her hand and brought it to his lips. He let his kiss linger on her soft skin for a moment, then reluctantly let her go when one of the guards cleared his throat. Kloe squealed one last time as Cynthia wrapped him in his blanket, then she rose from the table and turned away. The imperial guards ushered her out, and she glanced back once before the door closed. She left him with a smile that was as brilliant as it was fleeting.
Feldrin hoped it wasn’t the last one he ever saw from her.<
br />
≈
Chula stood silent on the deck of Orin’s Pride while Horace called out commands to the crew. He wasn’t silent just because Horace knew his job and needed no coaching, but because he didn’t trust his voice to remain steady if he spoke. He raised his hand in farewell to the people on the pier. Tipos and Rella waved back, but he barely noticed. His gaze was fixed on Paska holding little Koybur in her arms. She just stared at him, her mouth drawn in a hard line.
She was not happy with him.
Their argument had been legendary. She’d railed and yelled and shouted at him until he actually thought she might hit him. “You promised that we would never part again!” she’d cried. That had torn his heart like nothing else, because he had promised. But he had to go to Tsing, and for all he knew, Paska and Tipos faced the guillotine for the deaths of the two marines on Plume Isle. They would be safe here, and he had promised to return, one way or another.
The tenders loosed their tow lines, and Orin’s Pride came around like a graceful swan spreading her wings to fly. With her mainsail and jib set to opposite sides to catch the wind directly astern, she glided out the cut and beyond the sheltering headland. Chula finally let his arm fall as the pier passed out of sight.
“Bring her up and be settin’ de fore-s’l and fore-stays’l, Horace.”
“Aye, sir!”
Orders rang out and the schooner jibed to starboard, her jib cracking as it swept across and filled. They came up into the wind sweetly, the sailors tending their sheets carefully to bring her to a near stop. More orders, and the fore-sail gaff was hoisted, canvas flapping noisily until it was set and sheeted tight. As they bore off the wind, a call came from the lookout.
“Sails! Looks like five, no six of ‘em! To the south, just off that—Holy cripes, Captain, there’s an island!”
“Island?” Horace said, raising a spyglass. “What the hells?”
Scimitar War Page 33
