She nodded. “And living. Unlocking a link to Elsewhere isn’t easy. I hated him every day until it worked and then even still, for a while.”
“Well, let’s make sure and leave these fine folk intact. Using blood magic in public in the Glass Kingdom is a one-way ticket to the gallows, even here.”
She groaned. “I’m starting to hate this place, too.”
“Oh c’mon.” Whitney pulled her in tighter and pointed over her shoulder at Winder's Wharf where the tops of masts soared high over the city skyline like tree trunks stripped of their boughs.
“We’re in paradise,” he said as he took a great big whiff of the salty air. To him, it was the smell of freedom and relaxation. There was nothing in the world further from the worthless town he grew up in than sailing upon open seas.
V
THE KNIGHT
“Well, that was certainly unexpected,” Wardric said. They stood in the Shield Hall. Snowflakes swirled in through an open, arched aperture overlooking Mount Lister and the Torrential Sea, carried by an icy breeze.
“I’m still trying to understand,” Torsten said.
“What’s there to understand?” Wardric walked toward the opening. “Apparently, our timid prince wasn’t so shy after all.”
Torsten gripped the railing. His eyes fell on Mount Lister. The top of the mountain was a mere silhouette through the low clouds but the area at its base where the earth crumbled into the Royal Crypt below, remained visible. The tarpaulin covering it flapped, and he could imagine the tiny dots of dwarven artisans flitting about inside.
“I know,” Torsten said. “It was like Liam was alive all over again. I swear to you Wardric, I could literally feel him next to me. Before I knew it, my sword was drawn…”
“You won’t see me complaining about the new king growing up fast. I haven’t seen anyone put her in her place like that since Liam. Apparently, Pi was paying attention all those many years ago.”
“He declared war. There’s no question of the state of the kingdom now.”
“Like the boy said, they acted first. The last time we stood in this chamber I told you we had to teach the Shesaitju a lesson in force. You were wise to delay that while the Queen Mother was unstable, but we can’t be cautious forever.”
“It won’t just be Muskigo. He’ll rouse more afhems seeking to ‘free’ their Caleef.”
“Good, let all the traitors show their colors so that we may put them in their places.”
“You did not see Muskigo fight. Nor did you see his innumerable army.”
“Are you losing your faith, Sir Unger?”
Torsten sighed and turned away from the overlook toward a large, slate table. Eyes of Iam, spiked flames, and other sculptures covered the slate table like the parts of some elaborate game. Each blown-glass figure represented an army, thousands of young men whose lives were now in jeopardy thanks to the impulsiveness of a twelve-year-old.
Torsten reminded himself that Liam too had been stubborn in his youth. He wouldn’t have conquered the world, wouldn’t have brought glory to the name of Iam if he hadn’t been. Like Pi, Liam’s father had died when he was still young, leaving Liam as king at only sixteen. Though four years might as well be a lifetime that early on.
“How long do you suppose we have until word gets out?” Wardric asked.
“Days,” Torsten said. “Maybe less. I trust the Shield, but our numbers are thin, and I don’t recognize half the people in the castle anymore.”
“Another thing for which to thank our lovely Queen Mother.”
“And what thanks is that, Sir…” Oleander appeared in the entry. Pi stood in front of her, barely reaching her waist with the top of his moppy hair. The fire in his eyes was gone, and he looked every bit as tired and disinterested as he once had.
“Sir Wardric Jolly, Your Grace.” He bowed low, but Torsten could sense the bitterness in his tone. He’d been a pillar of the King’s Shield for longer than she’d been queen and she still didn’t know his name.
“Your Grace.” Torsten bowed. “We were discussing the potential… consequences of the King’s decision.”
“He was brilliant, wasn’t he?” She smiled and patted his head. He didn’t react in the slightest. “Why should we have to play coy with those who should be kissing our feet?” She led Pi to the stone seat at the head of the table and helped him onto it. He slumped back, barely able to see the map.
“We must consider the implications carefully.” Torsten turned to the map. “From my scouts, we know that Afhem Muskigo remains in the Fellwater with his army. They have completed numerous siege engines—”
“Breaching towers, catapults,” Wardric explained.
“I know what that means,” Oleander snapped. She took a step toward Wardric, her tall, Drav Cra frame looming over him. All the confidence Pi had stripped from her when he scolded her seemed to have returned in full. “Torsten, who is this man who addresses me as if I need his explanations?”
“He has served the King’s Shield for decades, Your Grace,” Torsten said. “Longer even than I. He fought faithfully by your husband-King. He’s the most loyal sword in the Glass.”
“Well, tell him to keep his tongue sheathed in my presence.”
Torsten grabbed the back of Wardric’s armor and guided him away. If fury could manifest in flames, the room would be ablaze.
“Muskigo’s army seems prepared to march at his command,” Torsten said, refocusing the conversation. “News of their Caleef’s detainment will most certainly expedite things. We can only guess at his exact numbers since they are hidden by the swamp’s fog, but it’s enough to know Muskigo has been preparing this coup since the moment Liam fell ill.”
“Oh, Torsten. Sweet, loyal… gullible Torsten,” Oleander said. “You really believe the lies spun by Sidar Rakun?”
She positioned herself before him. They were the same height, but they rarely saw eye to eye. He couldn’t help but be rapt by her lips, glistening a deep indigo that matched her dress, by her long blonde hair, so fair it shone silver under a certain light.
Torsten took a moment to gather his breath. “It doesn’t matter what I think, Your Grace. The King’s decision will inspire others to the rogue afhem’s call.” He gestured to the area on the map where Pantego forked off into the rocky and black sand-ridden beaches of the Shesaitju. “These cities southeast of the Walled Lake have large, concentrated Shesaitju populations. When word—”
“The Master of Rolls has already sent word across the kingdom that all gray-folk are to be placed under armed watch,” Oleander interrupted.
“I’m not sure…” His voice trailed off. He shook his head, frustrated. “How? The audience only just concluded.”
“Don’t look at me,” she said. “Your king gave the order the moment we stepped out.”
“Taking such a harsh stance will only encourage revolts, Your Grace.” Torsten regarded the boy, but Pi remained emotionless. “We must focus on the true enemy south of us.”
“Better to root out all insurgents now than wait until the army is nearer,” Wardric said. “Why don’t we sail a fleet down from Winde Port, catch them napping in Fellwater?” He smiled proudly like he expected Oleander’s approval. Instead, she ignored him.
“The Shesaitju have been fighting within their islands for centuries,” Torsten argued. “They are renowned for their naval combat. In that shallow water and fog, so far from home, we would be at a great disadvantage, especially if their scouts see us coming.”
“And how could anyone miss a mass of ships sailing down Trader’s Bay?” Oleander remarked.
Wardric bit his lip. Torsten could tell he was growing frustrated and tried to urge him with his expression to relax. Nobody knew better than Torsten how hard it was to get and stay on Oleander’s good side.
“Does it benefit you, keeping fools around, Torsten?” Oleander asked.
Wardric was squeezing the table now. But before he said anything stupid, King Pi said, “Excuse me, Mother,
but why exactly are you here?”
Torsten glanced up and saw that the boy now stood and stared down at the map. That fierce look in his eyes had returned.
“What was that, my dear?” Oleander asked.
“I said, I’m curious why you are here? You are not king and have no experience with war, yet you insult this soldier who served beneath Father in numerous campaigns.”
Her whole body tensed but she maintained a calm expression.
“As Queen Mother, it is my duty to help look after your kingdom. I learned a lot watching your father, Iam rest his soul.”
Torsten traced his eyes in prayer to Iam. Wardric did the same, though there was no missing the mirth tugging on the corners of his mouth. Pi did not—Torsten noted.
“If you paid attention to Father,” Pi said, “you would know the best course of action is to rely on the expertise of the Royal Council when its outside your own specialties. Of course, because of your actions, Sir Unger is the only man of proper resource who remains on my council.”
“Pi...” Oleander’s lips started to tremble. The muscles on her long, slender throat contracted as she fought back tears.
“Now, please,” he lifted a hand, palm out, “allow them to continue without interruption.”
Oleander stared at her son a few seconds longer, her eyes welling. His façade didn’t falter, stern, cold, the way Liam was with irritators. Torsten wasn’t Wearer when the man could still walk, so he didn’t have as much insight into how he was with Oleander, but Uriah had always said how rigid he could be when she spoke out of turn.
Oleander stood and curtsied. She didn’t weep aloud, but Torsten noticed her shoulders bobbing on her way out of the room. He couldn’t help but feel sorry for her despite everything she’d done, despite turning Yarrington into Elsewhere while he was gone. She’d done it all for Pi.
“So, attacking them first is out of the question,” Wardric said. He lifted a statue of a zhulong—the pig-dragon beasts the Shesaitju were so fond of—which represented Muskigo’s army then placed it back down.
Torsten forced himself to return his focus to what was important. “Agreed. Only zhulong would be able to handle mud that deep, and he has many.”
“You told me that the afhem seemed brash, proud,” Wardric stated.
“He is bent on revenge for the wars their fathers lost.”
“Then he won’t sit idly after he learns of the Caleef’s imprisonment.”
“No,” Torsten said. “He’ll seek to destroy the seat of Liam.” He looked to Pi, who remained attentive. “I understand the choice you made in light of their attacks, my King, but you have to understand how so many of them view their Caleef. You are the Word of Iam. For many of them, he remains a living god.”
“Then they must be shown the error of their ways,” Pi said. “There is only one true God.”
Torsten nodded, smiled. It wasn’t long ago that the boy had been cursed by his uncle with thoughts of the Buried Goddess, yet now he sounded like a true king of the Glass.
“We will do everything in our power to prepare,” Torsten continued. “Muskigo will have two choices.” He stretched across the table and tapped two Eyes of Iam. “He can head straight north and take Fort Marimount.”
“It is a mighty fortress, Your Grace,” Wardric explained. “Half-built by the ancient dwarves themselves.”
"And it’s all that stands between him and a full-scale invasion of Yarrington. If he takes it, they can dig in and reinforce themselves. With your edict against the Shesaitju enacted, they won’t be difficult to find.”
“You did not approve of my decision, did you?” Pi stopped him.
“Your Grace?”
“You can be completely honest with me without fear of hanging, Sir Unger.”
Torsten drew a deep breath. He’d never known what it was like to serve someone he didn’t have to walk on eggshells around. “I would have appeased and distracted the Caleef with finery while we first handled Muskigo. Then reprimanded Sidar Rakun for such loose control of his people.”
“Feigned complacency before striking like a snake in the weeds? Careful, tricks are the craft of the fallen gods.”
Torsten’s brow raised. Pi was smirking now, and Torsten realized it was the first time he’d ever seen the boy do it. He didn’t sound like he was only twelve, and just like in the Throne Room, he barely looked it.
“That is true, Your Grace,” Torsten said. “But Liam taught us to learn from our enemies in defense of the faithful. First, we win, and then, beg Iam for forgiveness.”
“Then I do apologize for my reaction, Sir Unger.”
“You need never apologize to me, Your Grace. The Black Sands had to be dealt with, one way or another.” Torsten’s gaze jumped between the young King and the map a few times before he was able to gather his thoughts.
“Marimount would be option one,” Torsten continued, “or turn his army along the bay and sail for Winde Port.”
Wardric nodded in agreement, running his finger along the river running north from the trade port. “It’s not as defensible as the Fort, but the winters aren’t so harsh there, and it would allow him easier access to Eastern and Western Pantego.”
“It’s exactly halfway between here and Latiapur, and it would provide him with a port to the West.”
“A strategic location, sure, but they’d sacrifice a lot of men taking a city so far from Yarrington when they could close the distance better at Marimount. You said it yourself, the afhem was brash and confident.”
“Brash, confident, and willing to have his men train in the wet and the cold until they could be called ready.”
Wardric scratched his chin. “We don’t possess the men to properly reinforce both potential targets.”
“We don’t have the men to meet Muskigo’s army in open battle at all. Our legions in the East must remain to ensure a similar situation doesn’t evolve in the Panping Region—Governor Nantby has already begun building defenses against such an attack, however unlikely. In the North, they defend against Drav Cra marauders who don’t believe in allegiance. In the Northeast, we continue to honor contracts with the dwarven King, Cragrock, assisting with the grimuar scourge and to secure the borders with the Breklians.”
“You just named our only forces with any experience in battle. We’ve been sitting on our fat asses ever since Liam got sick.” Wardric laughed a mirthless laugh.
“It’s time to consider a conscription. Bolster our numbers.”
Torsten could see Pi listening, but the boy remained quiet.
“More untested men to join an army that hadn’t been tested in a decade?”
“Muskigo’s men are angry, loyal, and worthy, but only a small percentage of them probably ever served as mercenaries, and none of them are used to our winters. If he cuts a straight line for Yarrington, we should be able to defend Fort Marimount against whatever he throws at us.”
“And if he heads northeast to Winde port?”
“Then I pray to Iam we can overwhelm him with numbers. The King’s miracle has the people in good spirits after all the foulness that preceded. If we issue a call now and focus on a chance for vengeance for the villages Muskigo slaughtered, we should have success.”
“It’s winter, and grain stores throughout the region are low. People might eagerly take up the sword knowing they’ll get their bellies filled in the legion.”
“Then it is decided?” Torsten asked. “I’ll have scouts watch for the first sign of movement from Muskigo’s forces so we can reinforce his target. Galleys will be sent out into Trader's Bay in case he does move by water. Perhaps they can slow down his much larger fleet to buy us time. Frederick Holgrass will issue a conscription edict from here to Westvale, and then again to Hornsheim.
“Holgrass the new Master of Rolls?” Wardric asked.
Torsten sighed, they were all new. “Yes. All men of proper age and health will be beckoned to the call of their king. Are you in agreement, Your Grace?”
&
nbsp; Torsten and Wardric both turned their attention back to Pi, but found that he no longer stood at the table. He was sunken back into his chair, half-asleep. He nodded his head listlessly but said nothing.
“It’s settled then,” Torsten said. “I’ll bring word to the Royal Council and have the proclamation prepared immediately.”
Wardric nodded in agreement. Torsten, however, couldn’t stop staring at the young king who looked so dejected.
Now he sees how many more lives might be lost in war because he was too eager.
Oleander never learned from or admitted her mistakes, but Liam never forgot his. He used that knowledge to crush his enemies. It was then that Torsten realized he may have underestimated Pi, that there may have been even more of Liam the Conqueror in him than he’d ever imagined.
VI
THE THIEF
Whitney pulled the wagon over at the edge of Winder's Wharf and took in the sight. Like the rest of Winde Port, nothing in the place matched. It stretched the whole of the peninsula, from a stone platform carved into the low bluffs to the north down to creaking wooden planks atop the sandy, southern beachfront. Canals branched off at random intervals like fingers stretching out into the city. They alternated with paved roadways, making it simple to ferry supplies. The locals even traversed them with gondolas during warmer months when they weren’t frozen over.
Ships of all sizes, from every corner of Pantego, moored in the harbor. He even spotted a Breklian corsair vessel, its fanning sails like a stack of daggers from his angle. Brekliodad was one of the few places the Glass Kingdom’s influence didn’t reach, yet here they were in Winde Port.
Everything looked as it had the last time he’d visited, except one new addition: three Glass Kingdom warships floating out in the bay, keeping watch.
“So, which one should we steal?” Whitney asked.
Sora snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“What? We just stole the caravan and that was easy enough. A ship can’t be much harder. My eye’s on that one.” He gestured to the small, agile ship from Brekliodad.
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