“Kamen!” Jahen's voice cut through the Regent's reverie.
“What was that?”
“I asked why.”
Why Darien never came around anymore? “You'll see him again soon enough. Now stay still and let them paint you properly.”
Once the boy-king settled down, the slaves worked with surprising alacrity, and in no time, Jahen was decked as a King should be. He wore hoops of gold in his ears. They pulled a bit on his tender earlobes, but he would grow into them. His magnificent wig had gold thread braided through it, just enough to make him look kingly, not so much to look gaudy. The thick kohl brought out the dark brown in his eyes, and the painted black wings that rose on either side of his eyes were more readily visible on his paler skin. Though he was dark compared to the white-skinned Vadal or Fihdal of the north, he did not share Kamen's or any other Sunjaa's dark desert hue.
“Magnificent,” Kamen said, striding over to stand in front of Jahen. “You're the very image of your father.”
The boy-king rose, and all the servants bowed low and scurried back in half-prostrate positions without turning their backs on him. “And what of my mother?” He splayed his hands out and looked down at his bare chest and stomach.
“Her, too, of course. Sunjaa and Vadal royalty run through those veins, little Majesty.”
“But Sunjaa is better.”
Kamen nodded. “Of course, though you don't want to say such things in front of our allies—or our enemies.”
“Every time I look at myself in the mirror, I see my mother.”
“You never knew your mother, or your father, for that matter.”
“But everyone else did. Every crusty courtier you let hang around the palace. I know what they're thinking when they look at me. They're thinking 'half-breed'.”
Kamen knelt down in front of Jahen and took the boy-king by the shoulders. He made sure he had his full attention before he spoke. "Don't let anyone tell you that you are anything less than the Sunjaa King, the scion of an unbroken royal house stretching back before recorded time. Before our people came into the West." He smiled. "Besides, you are the union of two mighty kingdoms."
Jahen nodded and then threw his thin arms around Kamen's neck and hugged him as tightly as he could. An echoing thud drew Kamen's attention to the door. The old herald stood there holding a long staff of wood and onyx perpendicular with the floor. He slammed the staff onto the wide marble tile beneath his feet.
“If it please His Majesty, the Fihdal delegation has arrived.”
Jahen released his grip on Kamen's neck and walked away to resume his seat on the couch, not the throne that sat at the end of the great hall.
“You should receive the delegation from your kingly seat, Majesty.” Kamen gestured to the streaked ebony-wood throne whereon sat the gilded busts of Jahen's father and grandfather, the old kings' heads hand-rests for the boy-king.
“I don't want to see them.” Jahen plopped down on the couch and reached over to grab a handful of long, green onions. He snapped one in half and tossed it to the turtle.
Kamen walked past the marble columns to stand in front of Jahen. “You must see them.”
“No, I don't. They're at war with the Vadal, and aren't the Vadal our allies?”
“Yes, but that doesn't necessarily make the Fihdal our enemies. Their kingdom borders ours along our northern coast, so it wouldn't do to anger them unnecessarily.”
“They killed my mother's people. I'll not see them. Tell them to go away.”
Kamen leaned over, coming closer to Jahen's ear. “You shall see them. This is precisely why boys don't rule. You'd make enemies of the whole world. You're going to put on your best King face and welcome the Fihdal to Arinport, and then you'll listen to what they've got to say.”
Jahen glowered at Kamen. “I won't forget the wrongs they've done the Vadal.”
“No one is asking you to, Majesty.” Kamen straightened up and smirked. “This is what it means to be a King: to smile though anger burns up your insides, to speak honeyed words though you'd rather spit venom.”
Jahen nodded once, his face a mask of childish gravity. Kamen turned back to the herald and nodded as the boy-king took his seat on his throne.
Two men, their sweating and irritated skin splotched pink from the heat, strode into the throne room and approached Jahen with boldness. Their steps were a measured march, their steady footfalls filling every silent nook of the cavernous chamber. They looked at Kamen as they passed, but they did not speak to him. They bowed only their necks to the King.
“Your Majesty, Lord of the Sweetwater, Eternal Serpent Who Circles the World, we bring you greetings from—”
They never got to finish. A great cry rose up in the outer corridor, and then some running and confusion. A guard set to watch the palace wall—his bare chest heaving from exertion, his hands a mass of bony knuckles clutching his spear—burst into the throne room. His wild eyes swept the scene until they found Kamen. He ran to the Regent.
“Lord Itenu, Ausir warships attack the harbor!”
Kamen did not wait to hear any more. He sprinted from the room. “Get the King to safety!”
This was not what he needed right then. Ambassadors had come from the north to meet Jahen, and now this? The distant Ausir civil war had at last come to Arinport's gates? But why would they attack the city? Why would they risk angering the Sunjaa, by all accounts the mightiest nation of Men? When Kamen reached the palace wall and whistled for a horse, he found sailors waiting for him. Some he recognized; some he had sailed with and fought beside.
Kamen vaulted into his saddle and wrapped the reins around his wrist, rearing his horse back. “Report.”
“Ausir warships going at it in our waters.”
“Who's involved?”
“No idea, but they're flying different flags. One's got fish, the other deer.”
"The Kimereth and the Losiengare," Kamen said to himself.
The sailors just blinked at him.
Of course Kamen could not expect any of these men to know the identity of two of the major players in contention for the disputed Ausir crown. Kamen had prayed this day would never come, the day he would have to make a choice about the war that had devastated the eastern sea and threatened to pull every coastal city into the conflict.
“Where's the Admiral?” Kamen whistled for the gates to be opened.
“Away. Up north, most like. Word was he'd sniffed out a pirate nest.”
Kamen could not help but smile to himself. He loved the days when he and Darien had sailed together and taken enough booty from pirates to make both of them fabulously wealthy. He wished more than anything that his best friend were by his side now.
“Get back to your ships.” Kamen dug his heels into his mount's flanks, and he was off. He galloped down the wide street that led away from the palace grounds, but he quickly ran out of room. The avenue turned into a mass of tangled alleyways as the splendor of Arinport's center gave way to the harbor-side slums.
Kamen whistled, and nearby guards took up the call. “Make way for the Regent!” After more than a few narrow misses, Kamen sprang from a dusty alley into the fish market that stretched from the wharf-front houses down to the water's edge. The smell of the sea brought back so many memories. Kamen could not remember when he had last had occasion to be at the docks, but he found it a refreshing change from the opulence of the palace. He loved politics, and he was good at it, but every once in a while, a man needed to break loose. That was why he found himself so suddenly at the harbor thirsting for some adventure.
Fishmongers and old women stared at him. They clearly recognized him by his long deadlocks and serpent tattoo that sprang from its coil across his breast and climbed over his shoulder. But deep scars marred the matchless art of the dragon.
Distant popping sounds filled the air, and Kamen looked up. Grey puffs of smoke rose from an Ausir galleon out at sea. Kamen sighed. That was just what he needed—having to deal with damned Ausir t
echnology. He rode down to the docks, dismounted, and sprinted to the King's flagship, the Aramina, which lay with sails furled in the harbor.
He stood at the end of the gangplank. “Permission to come aboard!”
The captain appeared at the railing. “Granted, Regent. Get your ass up here, Kamen!”
Kamen bounded up, thrilled to feel the creaking of the ship beneath his feet. “Ruben.” He embraced the captain.
Ruben held him out at arm's length. “A bit fancy for going to sea, don't you think?”
Kamen had not even realized that he still wore his gilded sandals and long, white skirt. And he was still bare-chested.
“Not to worry,” the captain said. “We'll get you a sea-jacket and some proper boots.”
Kamen took the spyglass the first mate offered him. He peered through its scope to see ballistae firing from the lower deck of the Kimereth galleon and smashing apart the hulls of the Losiengare caravels that were turning to flee. One galleon would be enough to sink three caravels, and the Losiengare must have known it. Kamen made his call right there: though two of them might get away, one of those ships was going to end up on the bottom of the sea.
“Did the Kimereth surprise them?”
Ruben shrugged. “Don't know, but from the looks of it, I'd say so. There are a lot of islands out there, as you know. Nice little places for an ambush.”
Kamen glanced over at the captain and then peered back into the spyglass. “One hell of an ambush.”
The caravels, flying the Losiengare flags depicting three grey deer drinking from a blue stream on a green field, came about and fled. The galleon, flying the Kimereth flag of a silver fish on a blue field, reloaded their ballistae and pursued. And then Kamen's heart sank into his stomach. The Losiengare were not fleeing farther out to sea; they were heading straight for Arinport.
“They're making a run for it,” Kamen said, “hoping to find protection here.”
Ruben was at his elbow. “Orders?”
Kamen had only a moment to weigh all his options, size up the tactical situation, and extrapolate how his decision would affect the precarious political situations among the many vying nations, not only among the Ausir across the sea but also the Fihdal and Vadal to the north.
“Pull up anchor. We cannot let those caravels reach the harbor.”
“Aye aye.” Ruben cried out his commands, and the crew hopped to work. They were underway in minutes.
The Losiengare were almost at the sea wall when the Aramina, every bit the size of a galleon though of different design, met them and barred their way. Through the spyglass Kamen spotted the Ausir sailors. He had never spent any considerable amount of time among them, so he still found their appearance striking. They all had horns, some sleek, some branching, some black, some brown, and a very few gold. Their faces were longer than humans', and their ears rose in high points that stuck out of their long hair. They had always struck Kamen as majestic, magical beings, but now they scurried around their ships, screaming orders, putting out fires, and plugging holes, like any harried Sunjaa sailor might.
High whistling filled the air, and Kamen caught sight of the smoky trails in the sky. "Incoming!" Incendiaries fired from the Kimereth ship splashed not far from the Aramina. Some ripped through a caravel's sails and set the mast alight. One missile struck a Losiengare ship directly in its rudder, shattering the aft bulkhead. The Ausir on that ship cried out in panic. Kamen watched through the spyglass as Ausir sailors on fire like torches flailed and jumped into the sea, only to disappear beneath the waves, their charred bodies never seen again. Another volley. The fiery missiles sailed over Kamen's ship, and he ducked. But nothing hit them. He heard another explosion, and then screams came from the harbor. Kamen jumped to his feet and looked back toward Arinport. The Ausir ballistae had struck a waterfront home. Black smoke billowed from its windows, and flames licked its walls, blackening them.
“Sail right for that galleon, Captain. I've had enough of this.”
Ruben saluted and gave the order. The Aramina turned and bore down on the Kimereth warship. Kamen was taking a terrible risk, but he had no choice. The Kimereth seemed intent on destroying the Losiengare ships, and if the fighting continued unchecked, Arinport would pay the price. He had to position himself close enough to the galleon to force it to stand down. Kamen was confident that the Ausir, ravaged by their own internal war, would not want to pick a fight with a united Sunjaa people, a nation engaged in no wars that had a navy that rivaled the old glory of the Ausir one.
The Losiengare caravel that had been struck was sinking, but there was nothing Kamen could do about it. This was not his war. Pulling the Losiengare survivors aboard might be seen by the Kimereth as a clear sign of Arinport's favor for one side and reason enough to declare war. Kamen was balanced on a rope, and he knew that the slightest breeze would blow him overboard. He had to tread carefully.
Once the Aramina was directly between the Kimereth and Losiengare, the assault ceased. No more fiery projectiles. The Losiengare sailed on towards Arinport, but Kamen instructed the first mate to send mirrored signals back to the patrolling ships to bar their entrance. He would give no safe haven to either side; he would not get pulled into a foreign civil war, and he would show the Ausir that the Sunjaa were not a people to be taken advantage of.
The Kimereth Ausir were irate, and they screamed out across the water at Kamen. He could not understand them, and he wished Darien's concubine, Saerileth, were with him. She was a Lotus, trained in languages, among other things. Kamen climbed up to the quarterdeck so that the Ausir might have a better view of him. He cried out to get their attention, and then he pointed up at the flag that flew from his main mast: a snake eating its own tail, the crest of the Ur-Ahnok House, the royal line of the Sunjaa. This caused the Ausir to calm somewhat, but then they pointed off toward Arinport's harbor and began screaming again.
Kamen held his hands out before him, palms forward, in a gesture of patience, hoping that the Ausir would understand that he wanted them to wait. He smiled and made wide eyes and tried to give every non-verbal assurance. The Ausir looked at him and then back to the harbor. Sunjaa ships had mobilized enough now to blockade the harbor, and the Losiengare were obliged to put back out to sea. The Kimereth looked back at Kamen, their expressions grateful yet calculating. Kamen just kept smiling and turned his hands over in a wrist pivot so that his palms were skyward, his fingers spread apart. A sign of indulgence. He did not want the Kimereth to suspect anything.
The galleon captain, a tall Ausir with long brown hair and high, branching, black horns, stared at Kamen for many moments before nodding and turning back to his crew. He barked orders that Kamen could only guess meant to pursue. But they would not get away so easily. The Kimereth had brought their war into Arinport's waters, and someone had to answer for that. The Sunjaa would be bullied by no one.
The Kimereth brought their ship around and pointed their bowsprit south. If they reached the Losiengare, they would destroy them. As a strong wind filled the galleon's sails, cruising Sunjaa warships turned to cut the Ausir off. Kamen watched everything through his spyglass, and he saw the Kimereth captain whirl around to look at him, hate filling his eyes. Did the Ausir see him from that distance? How far was their vision?
Kamen gave the order to close the distance as two other Sunjaa ships came up alongside the Ausir galleon. He had caught the Kimereth, but how could he explain his actions to them?
“I've picked up a bit of Ausir, Kamen.” Ruben rolled the heels of his hands together. “Not much, mind, but what with their war, I've had my run-ins with them.”
“Then by Abrexa's River, tell them that I shall not permit them to sail after their foes. I'll have none of their war here.”
Ruben nodded. “Will do.”
How well Ruben conveyed his decision Kamen did not know, but he guessed it was rude at best. Kamen preferred a bit more subtlety in breaking bad news to people, but the situation was what it was. He had to make the best
of it. Besides, he had four warships to their one, and he was sure the Kimereth could not sink them all, even if they wanted to.
“Tell them to turn north. After that, I don't care.”
Ruben stuttered over a few incomprehensible words, and the Kimereth captain went berserk. Kamen almost thought he saw the Ausir's eyes flash red—proper red—in his wrath. If Kamen did not control the situation, people were going to die. He needed to talk to the Ausir. If only Saerileth were here.
Saerileth. The Dimadan, where the Lotuses lived.
Kamen whirled Ruben around. "The Zenji."
"Sire?"
"The Dimadan isn't far from here. Tell them we'll all sail there and talk."
Ruben studied Kamen's face and then thumbed back toward Arinport. "Why not talk to them here?"
"And bring two bloodthirsty rival Ausir houses under my roof? No, thanks. Besides, we need neutral ground." There were no diplomatic relations between the Sunjaa and the Ausir.
Ruben squinted back across the water toward the galleon. "They ain't going to want to go."
Kamen pointed up at the flag of the Ur-Ahnok House. "Tell them King Jahen commands it."
Ruben cleared his throat, licked his lips, and called out to the Kimereth ship. As he stumbled through his message, the Ausir captain's face morphed from rage to disbelief, and he bent his baleful gaze on Kamen. He must have guessed that Kamen was the one in charge, and his next act would be based on his appraisal of the man. Kamen crossed his arms over his muscular chest. He lowered his chin and let his eyelids fall halfway across his eyes. His expression grew taut under the Ausir's stare, but Kamen did not break. He neither smiled nor frowned. He just waited.
The Ausir said one word to Ruben, and after a long pause, he pointed south and added something else.
"He agrees," Kamen said, guessing, "but he wants the Losiengare to be made to come, too."
Ruben nodded. "Yep."
"Send two warships to intercept and escort the caravels to the Dimadan." Kamen turned on his heel and flashed Ruben a wide grin. "We'll all sail like one, big, happy fleet to see the Zenji."
A Lotus for the Regent Page 3
