An Imperial Gambit (Wardens of Issalia Book 3)

by Jeffrey L. Kohanek

  During his stay at Kantar, he had grown used to wearing a sword. Accordingly, he had acquired one from the Sol Polis armory the day after his arrival. He paused, frowning as thoughts of Broland returned. Those memories, once something he had legitimately held dear, now only brought pain.

  “Good show, Ikonis.”

  Iko looked up and found Captain Sculdin leaning over the rail of the loft that overlooked the sparring yard.

  “Good morning, Scully. How long have you been watching?”

  “Most of the bout. It’s not every day I get to watch someone duel multiple opponents. The last guard I had who could manage it ended up dead.”

  “Yes. So I’ve heard,” Iko replied. “As for me, I thought it a good test. With war on the horizon, experience facing two opponents might be a skill that saves my life.”

  “True.” The pleasantness had left Sculdin’s voice. “Why don’t you come up, and we can talk for a bit.”

  Iko finished buckling his sword belt with a nod. “I’ll be right up.”

  He left the room and climbed the stairs to Sculdin’s loft. The man was alone in the room and had shifted to stand over a table covered by maps and notes. He bent and jotted something down on a list before glancing up at Iko.

  “You appear busy, Scully.”

  “War requires detailed planning. Soldiers can die of malnourishment, dysentery, or extreme weather conditions as easily as they can by a sword.”

  Iko’s gaze fell on the map, and he found areas circled with numerous lines converging on Yarth. Some by sea, others by land.

  “It will come to war, then?”

  Sculdin moved away from the table, nodding. “It appears so. Kardan has assigned me with logistics planning. I have already sent couriers across the Empire to secure what is required. I’m moving livestock and fall crops to Yarth and have already placed orders for winter crops grown in south Kalimar. I may even claim a portion of the spring crops grown from here to Vingarri. I’m building a storage center north of Yarth just for this effort and will have fifty wagons dedicated to moving food and supplies for the Imperial Army alone.”

  Iko blinked at the breadth of it all. “I knew that logistics were important to feed an army, but I didn’t realize it was so complex.”

  “Battle tactics are not the only key to a successful war campaign. Soldiers are assets who must be cultivated or they will wilt and die faster than any untended crop.”

  “How long will it take to orchestrate all this?”

  “Thankfully, Kardan and your mother have agreed to hold our ground until spring. That gives me at least eight weeks, ten at most, before we advance beyond Hipoint…assuming that idiot Mollis can hold the garrison until I arrive.”

  Iko snorted. “I met Mollis a few months back. He seemed…pig-headed.”

  Sculdin grinned. “Good description. He can execute orders and motivate his soldiers, but he lacks creative thinking. Surprises don’t go over well with Mollis.”

  “He sounds like a poor Ratio Bellicus player.”

  “I suspect he is.” Sculdin circled back around his table and gave Iko a sidelong look. There was a contemplative glint in the man’s eyes as he spoke. “You have always shown a creative flair. You know how to use a sword well, and you possess some military training.”

  Iko frowned. “Yes. So?”

  “So, when I leave this spring, I could use a lieutenant I trust by my side.”

  “Lieutenant? Me?”

  “Think on it. If you are interested, I’ll put a request in with Kardan. You may have to convince your mother, but I think you’d be a solid second-in-command.”

  Iko’s gaze shifted to the floor, but in truth, he was staring at nothing. The idea of commanding troops was something he had never considered. At the same time, his path was uncharted, and he didn’t know where his life would lead. His gaze shifted back toward Sculdin and found the captain staring at him.

  “I guess I never considered myself an officer,” Iko said. “How many soldiers are you talking about?”

  “While the core of our troops are already stationed outside of Yarth, I have sent the call out to drain the other cities. By the time we march, we should have close to ten thousand armed soldiers. While the platoon from each city has its sergeant, and I have Rorrick to lean on, a force of that size is too much for two men to manage.” He put his hand on Iko’s shoulder. “I could honestly use your help. Besides,” he grinned, “we have flash powder on our side.”

  When Iko reached the top floor, he heard shouts ahead. At the far end of the corridor, a guard leaned against the wall, showing no interest in investigating the ruckus. A blond woman in a dark blue dress rushed out of the Archon’s chamber and closed the door. She hurried in Iko’s direction, visibly shaken.

  “It’s Jeshica, I believe?” He altered his path to intercept her. “Are you all right?”

  The woman stopped short of him. “Yes. I’m fine.” Jeshica looked back at the door. “She’s upset about some news I had to deliver.”

  Iko knew that side of his mother well. He also knew that it was best not to be the target of her anger. He gave Jeshica a smile.

  “You appear to have escaped unscathed. My mother runs hot when she hears bad news, but she also tends to cool quickly.” He tried to sound reassuring. “I can’t remember her ever being angry for more than an hour or two. After that, well, let’s just say she focuses on retribution.”

  “I have…some experience in that area.” Her gaze shifted to the floor as she circled around him and headed toward the stairs. “I wouldn’t want to be in Glynnis’ position when she returns.”

  Iko spun around, facing her. “Wait. Glynnis? Returns from where?”

  Jeshica glanced back and shook her head. “You had best ask your mother.” She then bustled down the stairs and faded from view.

  Concern for Quinn left Iko considering how to broach the subject. Saying the wrong thing could result in his mother’s anger redirecting toward him. However, he had to know.

  He knocked on the door and listened.

  “I told you I didn’t want to be disturbed,” his mother said in short, clipped words, each filled with a note of anger.

  Swallowing a deep breath of courage, Iko turned the knob and strode inside. “It’s me, Mother. I heard shouting. Are you all right?”

  His mother was standing with her arms crossed over her chest while facing the window. She spun around, stomped to her desk, and lifted a crumpled piece of paper. “She left. Without a word, she just up and left me.”

  He chose to play dumb. “Who left you?”

  “Glynnis,” she snarled and held the paper toward him.

  Iko moved closer and accepted it. His mother turned back toward the window, her face in a scowl. He pulled the letter open, smoothed the wrinkles a bit, and began reading in silence.

  Meryl,

  As you requested, I have made a focused effort to uncover the spy in our midst. At first, there was little to report as everyone I questioned appeared innocent and lacking motive. I then shifted my focus to newly hired staff members. Among that small group, I found a pattern that led me to a wine steward named Ebran Pym. Suspecting him, I set a trap to discover if he is the vermin I seek.

  I wrote a false letter to you, confirming the presence of a spy in the palace, and I knew how to prove him guilty. Without naming him, the note suggested that you sanction the arrest of a person on the serving staff. In the note, I promised to have him in shackles by morning and to have him hanged by nightfall.

  I then requested that Sheen send Ebran to serve you and Kardan in your chamber. Since I knew you two would still be in Kardan’s office, your room would be unoccupied. I placed the folded note on your desk and waited in my room. Sure enough, our little rat took the bait.

  The moment I heard him leave, I entered the room and found the note unfolded and resting beside a carafe of wine and two glasses.

  I later caught up to Ebran outside his room where I heard him busily packing things. I f
ollowed him to an inn near the docks, and I believe he will board a ship first thing in the morning. When the spy leaves Sol Polis, I intend to follow him in hope of discovering his contacts. Perhaps it will reveal whose unseen hand is moving the game pieces against us.

  Don’t blame Jeshica. She knows nothing and is only a convenient messenger. I will return soon, and I hope to have answers.

  -Glynnis Mor

  A conflict of emotions battered Iko as he thought about Quinn. Concern. Relief. Regret. He wondered at the sincerity of her letter…and if her disappearance had something to do with him. She had named Ebran as the spy, a name Iko recalled. I ran into him in Sculdin’s office just before the map was stolen.

  He flipped the paper over and found the words Deliver to Archon Varius written beside a broken wax seal. He lowered the note and looked at his mother. “What does your handmaid have to do with this?”

  His mother continued staring out the window. “Jeshica discovered the note on her floor when she woke this morning. Apparently, Glynnis had slipped it under her door while she was sleeping.”

  “So…you’re angry at Glynnis, not at Jeshica.”

  She sighed. “Yes. I’m angry that she didn’t discuss this with me first.”

  The sigh was a sign of her calming. He considered what he might say to further diffuse her anger. “Your bodyguard seems quite…resourceful. Perhaps her mission will yield something useful.”

  Turning from the window, she strolled to her desk and sat. “True, but I now find myself without a bodyguard. What if there is another attempt on my life?”

  An idea struck him – one that would solve his own problem while helping to ease his mother’s anger. “Well, I am here, and I know how to use this.” He patted the sword at his hip. “Besides, I have been…bored since I arrived. Now that Percy is gone, I don’t even have him to occupy my time.”

  She stared at him for a long moment before nodding. “Very well. I trust you, and that is more than half my concern toward anyone who spends time alone with me…especially if they are armed.”

  Iko exhaled a breath of relief. Her anger has passed, and she is now moving forward. His immediate future had an objective, but his longer path remained undefined. The thought reminded him of his conversation with Sculdin.

  “I stopped by Sculdin’s office after my morning duel.” Iko sat across from his mother and crossed his legs, one hand going to his knee, tapping it as he spoke. “We had a brief discussion about the coming war and the logistical complications of feeding so many soldiers.”

  “Yes. It’s not a trivial concern.” Mirroring him, she crossed her legs and nodded. “Our recruitment and training efforts have been underway for some time now, but having command over such a large army does little good if they lack the supplies to survive.”

  Her mind is on the problem, a cause she believes in. I need to do it now. “Scully also said he needs officers, people he can trust.” Thoughts of Quinn’s steely gray eyes arose in his head, galvanizing his resolve. “He asked me to be his second-in-command.”

  She stared at him, unmoving for a long, quiet, uncomfortable moment. Finally, her eyes lowered, her face taking on a contemplative expression. “After I sent you off to train with Rhone and his guards, I often wondered where it might lead. I only knew that the world was a cruel, hard place, and you needed the tools required to defend yourself.

  “When Kardan came to me with the plan to send you to the military academy in Fallbrandt, both to learn and to spy, that plan seemed a natural next step in your progression. When you and Percy returned, I was happy to have you back and thought it might be the end of your time away. That is, until I decided to send you to Kantar. It was a risky plan – one of great import. To work, it required just the right individual. Kardan convinced me that you were our only choice. I hated sending you, but I also had faith in your abilities. In the end, it worked out quite well, and you returned safe.”

  She held her hand over her eyes, as if wearied by the decision he had forced upon her. “You must know that war is trouble of a different nature.” She dropped her hand and looked into his eyes. “Despite sound strategy and detailed planning, anything can happen. I am reluctant to place you in a position of such danger. There is nothing in this world I cherish more than you, Ikonis. I don’t know if I can bear losing you.

  “However, I also realize that our fight, our ideals, are more important than my own selfish desires. If this is something you want, I will support Sculdin’s request, but you must honor your agreement to guard me in the interim…at least until Glynnis returns.”

  Iko blinked in disbelief. She said yes? More than his victory earlier in the sparring yard, perhaps more than any success he had ever achieved, convincing his mother to agree to his request was a major coup.

  Restraining a grin, he replied in an even tone, “Thank you, Mother.”

  She pulled her chair in and picked up a message that lay on her desk. “You may go. Be sure to return for the mid-day meal. You can dine with me and then escort me to the Council chambers. Kardan and I are meeting with the Council this afternoon.”

  27

  Survival

  A bell rang in the heart of the city, a greeting to the morning sun as it edged over the horizon. In response to the bell, some guards began cranking a wheel with long wooden handles, raising the gate. Quinn squinted at the light, her head still pounding from the wine she had consumed the prior evening. Although she wanted to blame Brandt…or Pintalli, she had to admit it had been her own doing. At least it was a fun evening, she thought. In fact, the entire stay at Vinata had been enjoyable.

  She and Brandt had spent the prior day visiting shops in the city, purchasing the supplies required for their mission. Thanks to Pintalli and his connections, the cost was a fraction of what it would have been otherwise.

  Brandt stood beside her, wearing a dark gray travel cloak over an all-black outfit, similar to her own. Quinn had to admit that Brandt cut a dashing figure, the way his leather-padded coat fit his lean, muscular torso. Somehow, the tailor was able to measure him and make the necessary adjustments to the new coat and breeches in less than a day.

  A sense of pride arose as Quinn stared at him – his handsome face, his regal bearing. He was like her in many ways, but different enough that his strengths balanced her weaknesses. Feelings toward him welled up inside her, and she grabbed his hand, giving it a squeeze. He looked at her with a smile that she returned.

  A wry expression appeared on his face. “Are you sure we can’t go purchase a nice, sturdy quarterstaff for me to use?” His tone was smooth, an attempt to sound convincing. “Wouldn’t you feel safer if I were armed?”

  “For this mission, we agreed that stealth was our best approach. How are you supposed to hide something as long as a quarterstaff?”

  His brow furrowed. “I know, but what if we get into a physical confrontation?”

  Quinn gripped the hilt of the sword on her hip. “I do know how to use these, you know.”

  “Yes, but what about me?”

  She patted his cheek, grinning. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

  “Why do I get the feeling that you enjoy having the advantage?”

  “Perhaps…because I do.”

  Brandt grimaced and she laughed.

  His laughter joined hers, and he shook his head. “And you call me incorrigible.”

  The portcullis finished rising, a guard beside the gate shouted, and the small crowd that had gathered began to filter out.

  Quinn hefted her pack over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  As they melted into the caravan of people and wagons passing through the gate, Quinn watched the guards posted there. Dressed in chain mail and white tabards marked with a blue Order rune, the Imperial soldiers intently surveyed the people and wagons entering the city. In contrast, the guards appeared to ignore those who were leaving.

  They walked down the slope toward the river. To the southeast, a road ran between the river and the cit
y wall, toward the harbor where Quinn had arrived weeks earlier – a time that had both gone by quickly, yet seemed so long ago. Thoughts of the sea voyage stirred memories of the Razor and the damage the ship had taken from the Empire flash cannons. The threat of those cannons, along with flash bombs and Issal-knows-what other weapons, were the motivation behind her and Brandt’s mission. Somehow, the two of them needed to prevent any further weapon production. Somehow.

  The road leveled as it approached River Iglesia, named after some long-dead Vinaccian queen. They strolled onto a wooden bridge with rails on both sides. A wagon rumbled past them, the bridge large enough for traffic to flow in both directions. Ten feet below, slow-moving waters flowed toward the bay. Rowboats with long fishing poles mounted to the stern were anchored at the mouth of the river while larger ships occupied the harbor further out. The bridge ended and became gravel again as they crossed a small island to another bridge. Two more islands and two more bridge spans led them to the north bank, a half mile from the city.

  Mirroring the rolling hills south of Vinata, the hillsides around them were covered in vines that grew along man-made trellises. This stretch of land grew the grapes used to make Vinaccian wine, the most renowned wine in Issalia. Quinn wryly recalled the prior evening when Pintalli eagerly had her and Brandt sample various bottles from his favorite vineyard. The drink was fruity and flavorful, neither too bitter nor overly sweet. She soon grew to enjoy the beverage, perhaps a bit too much. Her headache still lingered.

  Beyond the next rise, they discovered rolling hills that ran north along the coast, all occupied by vineyards. At the bottom of the hill before them, a narrow gravel road turned inland. Yellowed grass growing between the narrow wagon ruts that defined the road marked it as a lightly traveled route. Brandt stopped, pulled his map from his pack, and unfolded it.

  He pointed toward the narrow road. “That must be the route to Castile Corvichi.”