“I welcome you in peace,” she said. By custom, no harm would come to the emissaries while under truce, though such truces had been known to be broken. It spoke much of their trust in her honor that they would send the mayor on such an errand, or perhaps it showed how poorly he was regarded.
Calvino nudged Antonius.
“I come in truce,” Antonius muttered. She had spoken, but it was Burrell to whom he addressed his words and gaze. It appeared that Antonius shared the disdain of his countrymen toward women in positions of authority. It would gall him to have to treat with her.
“I am Lady Ysobel, in command of the Federation forces, and this is Lieutenant Burrell.”
“Your presence is an act of war. Surrender these forts at once, and we will spare your lives,” Antonius blustered. “And if you cannot see reason, surely your lieutenant will.”
Burrell kept his silence, playing the role of a dutiful subordinate.
“We should not judge. Perhaps their illness has impaired their thinking—” Calvino began.
“There was no illness,” Ysobel declared.
Calvino merely nodded, as she confirmed what must have been evident. It was to him that she addressed her next words.
“These forts are the lawful property of the Federated Islands of Seddon, by treaty between our people and your government. We do not blame you for allowing Ikaria to seize them, but neither may you accuse us of doing anything other than reclaiming our property.”
It was a subtle distinction. True, the treaty between their two peoples had never been dissolved, but Ikaria had held the port for nearly twenty years and made their own agreements with Thuridon.
“You are one woman with but a single ship. You cannot hope to hold on to this harbor,” Antonius said.
“Why not? I have sailors in plenty to hold the forts, and my marines are far too skillful to fall for a child’s ruse.”
“And he who controls the forts, controls the harbor. Or have you forgotten that the catapults may be aimed at the docks as easily as at the sea?” Burrell added.
Antonius cursed under his breath.
“That sounds like a threat,” Calvino said. He remained calm, even as his companion grew visibly enraged. From his control, she concluded that he was mayor in truth, not a mere figurehead.
Now it was time to sweeten the deal. “The federation is prepared to honor the old treaty and all of its terms,” she said. “As you may recall, the years of our partnership were a profitable time for both our peoples.”
“You can’t make a deal with these people! Just look at how they deceived us,” Antonius said.
“They deceived you,” Calvino replied.
Ysobel bit back a grin.
“May I invite you to dine with me this evening, so we may discuss the details of the new treaty?” Calvino said.
“I would be honored,” she replied.
Antonius grumbled and blustered, but the mayor paid him little heed as the two were escorted out of the fort.
“We’ve won,” she told Burrell. “Antonius hasn’t the men to retake the forts, and he’ll get no support from Thuridon. I’ll dine with the mayor tonight and let him win a few concessions in return for his immediate expulsion of Antonius and his lackeys.”
Burrell blinked, and his frame momentarily sagged as the exertions of the past two days caught up with him.
“You’ll need to recruit sailors from the ships in harbor to replace those we’ve borrowed from the Dolphin. How long until your reinforcements arrive?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
He shook his head, then unaccountably he grinned. “I don’t know. We’d planned for everything—except the possibility of victory.”
It was a confirmation of what she had long suspected. “Then it is time you made new plans,” she said. “Lord Quesnel will not be rid of me this easily.”
Burrell’s face grew sober. “Don’t underestimate his anger.”
“And he should learn not to underestimate me,” Ysobel replied.
Chapter 11
It did not take long for Lieutenant Burrell to adapt to success. No longer constrained by his secret orders from Lord Quesnel, Burrell threw himself into planning the long-term occupation of Gallifrey harbor. He drafted sailors from federation vessels in port to man the forts, freely promising Lord Quesnel’s gold in return for their service. With no sign of the transport ships that were to have supported Ysobel’s mission, Burrell convinced a reluctant captain to divert his ship, bearing a message to the nearest naval base.
While Burrell did not speak of it aloud, both knew that their reinforcements were neither tardy nor the victims of ill fortune. Quesnel had deliberately withheld them before the attack, hoping that she would fail. But having succeeded against the odds, not even Quesnel would throw away victory for his personal vendetta, and she was confident that reinforcements would soon be on their way.
While Burrell secured their military position, Ysobel took control as acting harbormaster. She met first with the mayor, then the leading merchants, assuring them that the federation had no intention of disrupting trade. As a sign of that good faith, she reopened the harbor. The first ship to leave was an Ikarian merchant, with the former harbormaster aboard. He would report what had transpired, but the federation was gambling that the Ikarian Empire would be too consumed by its internal conflicts to worry about retaking a small foreign port. Gallifrey was a vital trade link for goods coming down from the Northern Wastes, but it had little military significance.
After two days, trading vessels began arriving, their captains far more concerned about rumors of plague than they were about the change in control of the harbor. The Dolphin remained on guard outside the harbor entrance, sending work parties to board and inspect each vessel before it was allowed to enter the harbor. A few captains objected to such treatment, but Elpheme’s crew made it clear that they were searching for weapons and soldiers only. They had no interest in whatever cargo the vessel carried.
Though naturally they reported all cargo to Ysobel, legitimate goods and contraband alike. Knowing which captains and houses were honest, and which were not above a bit of smuggling, was invaluable intelligence for a master trader.
Ysobel’s second decree abolished the schemes that had given preferential dock space and reduced cargo fees to Ikarian vessels. Antonius had fled his office in such haste that he had left behind ledgers recording the bribes that each captain had paid. It was a complicated scheme based on the nationality of the captain, the type of cargo carried, and the frequency of one’s visits to Gallifrey. Half of the bribes were remitted to Ikaria as special docking fees, while the rest went directly into Antonius’s purse.
Instead Ysobel began assigning dock space as was done in the federation—according to a published schedule of fees based on the length of the ship and time spent in port. The docking fees were higher than they had been, but the elimination of bribes meant that even an Ikarian captain would pay less than he had before.
With more coin flowing into the official coffers, this meant more tax dollars for Gallifrey’s mayor, who was quick to signal his approval of her plans. He even offered Ysobel the service of one of his own clerks to help run the harbormaster’s office. The clerk’s skill at keeping records quickly brought order out of chaos, and Ysobel’s scrupulous honesty in dealing with the traders meant that he would have nothing but favorable words to report to his master.
She would make sure her replacement understood the importance of keeping the mayor content. Gallifrey was the largest port in Thuridon, but it was not the only one. Goodwill built here would extend along the coastline. And the federation could have need of that goodwill someday—if it kept on the path to war with the empire.
Ysobel had never realized the full scope of a harbormaster’s responsibilities. Previously she had been on the other side of the counter—now she was the one negotiating with merchants over duties and trying to smooth tempers among captains, a
ll of whom insisted that their needs took precedence. A captain herself, she sympathized with their plight, even as she pointed out that no amount of shouting or threats could create an empty berth out of thin air.
It was a valuable opportunity. Each lading list that she reviewed, every argument with a captain, each request for supplies, provided her with insights into the local trade and the conditions of her competitors. Consider the house of Laurent, which was generally believed to be prosperous: The ship they sent to Gallifrey was undermanned and carried a cargo of fleece and leathers, which would bring only a meager profit. On the other hand, the local trading vessels from Vidrun were ancient single-masted relics, but their derelict appearance disguised their valuable cargoes of perfumes and exotic spices.
As the days passed, incoming ships brought news of other skirmishes between the Ikarian and Seddonian navies, though reports of how the conflict was progressing depended on the nationality of the captain telling the tale. So far all agreed that no pitched battles had been fought between the fleets, but there had been a handful of encounters between vessels. One reported that the federation had claimed the island harbor of Eykstra, another that the incursion had been beaten back.
She could glean no clear picture of the federation strategy. At times, it seemed as if the strategy was merely to nibble away at the edges of Ikaria’s foreign possessions, reckoning that no single piece would be seen as worth reclaiming. At other times, she thought grimly that there was no overall strategy, merely individual commanders making a grab for whatever they could in the confusion.
Her darkest imaginings gained strength when a battered ship sailed into harbor, bearing a federation prize crew on a vessel that she had last seen flying an Ikarian pennant. The acting captain claimed to have seized the vessel from pirates, and such was legal under federation law. But she was troubled that there were no survivors aboard who could prove the truth of the tale.
With nothing to back up her suspicions, she could take no official action against the captain. Indeed, it seemed hypocritical to suspect him—after all, her aunt Tilda had started as a pirate hunter herself and, without that legacy, Ysobel would never have achieved her own success. Yet Tilda had always been careful to turn over the surviving pirates to the authorities on dry land, even when keeping them alive meant short rations for all else on board.
She worried about her own ships, and whether they had been swept up in the madness. Since her flight from Ikaria, her ships no longer ventured into Ikarian waters, but that did not mean they were safe. She wrote to her factor, sending new orders to her captains, instructing them to only accept cargoes bound for the east.
Elpheme was busy aboard the Dolphin, and Ysobel saw little of her. By contrast, Burrell was a near-constant presence, as he divided his time between the two forts. Having been assured of his worth, she found herself turning to Burrell as a sounding board. She would not call him a friend, but there was no one else that she could speak to frankly.
Working closely together gave her a new appreciation for Burrell—he had demonstrated both courage and wit, two qualities she greatly admired. She could feel the attraction simmering between them—saw proof of it in his gaze when he thought himself unobserved.
But this was neither the time nor the place to indulge herself. While the people of Thuridon were not quite as rigid in their views on women as the Ikarians, it was still unusual for them to place a woman in a position of power. News that she was involved in a liaison with one of her subordinates would be seen as a sign that she was untrustworthy, and she needed the support of Mayor Calvino and his people if she was to keep control of this harbor.
Weeks passed, and finally, just when she had convinced herself that she would have to hold the port through the winter, two navy ships arrived. Using the message semaphore atop the customs house, she sent orders that they be allowed to anchor in harbor and an invitation for their captains to meet her in her office at their earliest convenience.
After a moment’s consideration, she sent a runner to fetch Lieutenant Burrell. It was a courtesy, though his own watch would surely have informed him of the ships’ arrival.
She wondered what orders the ships brought. Would she be allowed to return home? Or did Lord Quesnel have a different fate in mind for her?
Nerves taut, she forced herself to continue reviewing the day’s accounts until the two ships had dropped anchor in the harbor. Only then did she send her clerk to fetch hot apple wine and fresh nut rolls from the bakery stall that catered to the docks. Plain fare, but bound to be appreciated by those who had been on sea rations. Burrell arrived as she was giving the orders to her clerk, having taken the time to change into his dress uniform and don the brass shoulder cord that proclaimed him the ranking officer at this post.
“At last,” he said. “The sailors we impressed will no doubt rejoice tonight.”
Though Burrell did not have the look of a man who was pleased. His expression was guarded, as it had been during the earliest days of their acquaintance.
She offered him apple wine, which he declined, choosing instead to pace restlessly, peering around her office as if he had never seen it before. He circled the large meeting table twice, then came over to her desk. Picking up a scroll from the basket on the far left side of her desk, he juggled it idly in his hands before replacing it with another.
“My clerk will have both our hides if we disturb his filing system,” she said, carefully lifting the scroll and returning it to its place.
He flushed. “My apologies,” he said, before clasping his arms behind his back and retreating a few paces.
Strangely enough, seeing his nerves calmed her own. She was able to wait with seeming diffidence until the sharp knock on her door announced the arrival of her guests.
The first to enter wore the dress uniform of the navy, showing he had taken time to change before presenting himself, his graying hair tied back neatly in a plait. “Lady Ysobel,” he said, inclining his head in respect. “I am Captain Justin, born into the house of Bendat, and this is Major Armand.”
Major Armand was the younger of the two, with a ruddy complexion and light brown hair that curled close to his scalp. He, too, wore a dress uniform, fit for a court presentation and not the deck of a ship.
Their immaculate attire did not impress her—it gave them the air of courtiers, not sailors.
“Captain; Major,” she said, nodding to each in turn. “And this is Lieutenant Burrell.”
Burrell saluted. The major stared at him for a long moment, his gaze dismissive, before finally returning his salute.
“I was surprised to receive your message,” Major Armand said. He was speaking to Ysobel, but his gaze flickered back over to Burrell, and this time she could see the animosity. It appeared that the two knew each other and had not parted on friendly terms.
“Surprised, but pleased by your success,” Captain Justin hastened to clarify.
“Please, have a seat, gentlemen,” Ysobel said. “We have much to discuss.”
Her guests accepted goblets of the warmed apple wine, in deference to the damp chill of autumn, but declined the nut rolls, giving a look that said they had far more important considerations than their stomachs. Seized by an imp of contrariness she took a roll for herself and made sure to offer them to Burrell before taking a seat at the table.
The visitors had chosen to sit side by side, with Burrell to their left. She sat to their right, so she could watch them with ease, while they would be forced to divide their attention between herself and Burrell.
“Tell me, how did you take Gallifrey with so few men?” Captain Justin asked. “I would have sworn it couldn’t be done.”
“A trader knows how to improvise,” she said. It took only a few moments to recount the taking of the harbor—a reckless, heart-stopping gamble recounted as if it were a children’s tale. Burrell then took up the thread of the narrative, discussing the improvements to the defenses that he had made since he had taken over.
&nb
sp; Major Armand grunted in apparent approval though he did not speak his praise aloud. His attitude irritated her, for what harm could there be in acknowledging Burrell’s efforts? A few words of honest praise would cost him nothing, yet his refusal to utter them spoke volumes about his character.
She had expected her own efforts to be dismissed. She was a master trader with no military experience—failure would have been her responsibility, but any success would be credited to luck or the skill of her advisors. She had come to this meeting ready to fight for her role to be acknowledged. She hadn’t expected to have to defend Burrell. The lieutenant had shown himself courageous and deserving of respect.
But despite his posturing, Armand was not in charge—as a mere marine, he would take his orders from the navy. Captain Justin was in charge of this mission, and it was his words that would be heeded.
Justin, who’d introduced himself as born into the house of Bendat, but not of that house. Some saw the navy as honorable service, but for one born into a trading house, such service was seen as the lesser path. The favored sons and daughters of the house would have followed the merchant’s path. Ysobel outranked him twice—as a master trader who had earned the title of Lady, and as the head of her own house. She might be constrained to follow Lord Quesnel’s orders, but these men were her inferiors. A fact that they seemed to have forgotten.
“Justin, how many marines have you brought, and how quickly can you take control of the harbor?” she asked, deliberately omitting his title.
He blinked in surprise. “Major Armand has a full contingent of one hundred marines—”
“Good,” she interrupted. “Lieutenant Burrell, after their shift, send the impressed sailors to me and I will see that they are paid for their service. If any choose to remain, have them see Major Armand. Otherwise, I will find them temporary work at the docks until they can find a berth on a ship.”
“As you command,” Burrell said.
The Sea Change Page 17
