by M. J. Scott
Imogene shook her head. "Oh no. They need me for the navire project. I can't head off into the wilds just at the moment."
"Whereas you were married to an aristo and are familiar with royal protocols,” Honore cut in. “We can, presumably, rely on you not to fumble the social events where we will be out of uniform. The Andalyssians take protocol quite seriously."
Chloe wanted to protest that she knew nothing of the Andalyssian court, but she clamped her mouth shut. Qualified or not, she wasn't going to ruin this chance for herself before she even began.
"Which is where I come in," Imogene said. "You’ll need a wardrobe. There isn't time to have it all made, so Helene is going to alter some of my dresses for you."
That implied there was going to be either an inordinate number of gowns or that they were leaving soon. Or maybe both. "How long until we leave?” Goddess. Her mother was going to have a fit.
"In four days," Colonel Brodier said. "Short notice, I know, but that is the nature of the job sometimes. The major tells me you're a quick study, and you clearly have a talent for adapting to countries where things may be more...old-fashioned. So, you have what we need. Quite the opportunity to show us what you can do."
"I—"
Honore held up a hand. "I realize you have barely begun your training. We can continue while we travel, but you're going to be thrown in somewhat under prepared. Which is also the nature of the job. There will be a number of background briefings over the next few days, but as Major du Laq says you will need to be present for these wardrobe shenanigans, she has kindly offered to teach you about Andalyssia herself. That way your time won't be wasted. I'll have the other briefing papers sent to your home—you haven’t moved into quarters, if I recall?"
"No, sir." It wasn't compulsory for officers to live at the barracks, and the Matins’ house in Haut Charmant was a quick enough journey via portal. Chloe had decided that staying at home for at least a few more months might make it easier for Ana. So much for that plan.
"Good. So we'll send those, but you can report to Major du Laq in the morning. Tomorrow afternoon, you'll have to come back here for the reveille, but otherwise, you’re under the major's command temporarily."
Chloe nodded, still slightly stunned.
"You don't have a problem with a reveille, do you?" the colonel continued.
Chloe shook her head. "No. I hadn't really thought about it." Where they could, diplomats usually studied languages. Chloe knew Anglion and Illvyan and had a smattering of Kessian, the language spoken in Kesseret, one of Illvya's largest neighbors. She had intended to work on improving that first and then decide which others to add. But sometimes, like now, it seemed, there wasn't time for the old-fashioned way. When there was a need to learn a language fast, then a reveille was the answer. A sanctii who understood something of the language shoving that knowledge into a mage's brain via magic. A process she had never before needed to undertake. A process she understood to be somewhat painful.
"If time allowed, we would give you a chance to get the basics an easier way," Honore said. "But unless you have an exceptional skill for language that you failed to mention, then I'm afraid you'll be joining most of us in using the reveille." She shrugged. "We are fortunate that we have two sanctii who have spent sufficient time in Andalyssia to have learned the language well enough to make it possible. Their experience is a few years out of date, but Andalyssia is not a society that changes rapidly, so it should be enough to get us by. We'll have language practice on the journey, too. That will have to be enough. Most of the Andalyssian nobles speak Illvyan, so we will be able to make ourselves understood. But we also need to be able to understand the things they don't want us to."
Chloe nodded. That was a lesson she'd learned from Anglion. It had been frustrating and scary to be surrounded by people speaking a language she knew little of, and she'd worked hard to learn Anglish as fast as possible. "I understand, sir," she said. "Is there anything else?"
"No. You have your orders, Lieutenant. And an opportunity. I expect you to do well with both."
In other words, don't complain and don't fuck it up and this will be good for your career. She caught Imogene's eye, and her friend nodded encouragingly.
"Yes, Colonel," she said. "I understand. I won't let you down."
Chapter 10
"My lord, another briefing packet has arrived."
Kristof hovered in the doorway of Lucien's office, looking somewhat disheveled. Lucien knew how he felt. Since Aristides had ordered him to Andalyssia, he had spent far too many hours locked in this room, trying to organize the estate for three months, file any outstanding paperwork with the judiciary, and reread his case notes from the trial of the Ashmeister Elannon as well as everything else about the history of Illvyan-Andalyssian relations he could get his hands on.
It added up to a mountain of reading and sending Fidel and Kristof in all directions to deliver orders, fetch various other servants, field questions, and help him pack. None of the three of them had slept more than six hours a night in a good week or so.
At least Colonel Brodier hadn't insisted on him having a reveille. He'd learned Andalyssian that way once before. Luckily, he had a good head for languages and seemed to have retained most of it. Which had come in handy when he'd discovered some documents in the palace’s archives relating to the mining treaties that were actually written in Andalyssian.
Even Kristof's good humor seemed to have slipped as he stared down at the leather-bound bundle of papers in his hands.
"Did the messenger say it was urgent?" Lucien asked. He wasn't sure he was capable of reading another word. And he only had about twenty minutes before he'd promised to present himself back in his bedroom so his valet and Fidel could finalize his packing.
"No, my lord," Kristof said.
Well, that was a relief. It could wait until he was onboard the damned navire. He intended to spend as much of the journey as possible in his cabin, finishing his preparation and, hopefully, catching up on his sleep.
"Put it in the valise that's going to my cabin, then," he told Kristof. "Then you can take the rest of the night off. I don't think there's anything more to be done here. Just make sure you do what Fidel tells you while I'm away, yes?"
"Yes, my lord." Kristof smiled at him. "I will."
The lad had been disappointed that Lucien wasn't taking any servants with him. But he could tie his own damned cravats, and the palace at Deephilm would provide him any services he needed for laundry and such. And Colonel Brodier would have plenty of junior officers and ensigns eager to assist.
He watched Kristof do an about-face and leave. Then he sat to check his notes again, making sure there was nothing he absolutely needed to deal with before he departed. Ten minutes later, he was satisfied there wasn't. He shoved the papers back into a neat enough pile. Fidel would tidy up his office while he was away.
His hand froze as he reached automatically for the heavy bronze paperweight to lay on top of them. The stylized raven had been a birthday present from Chloe and Charl. The one reminder he'd allowed himself.
He'd considered sending Chloe a note to inform her he would be out of town for a time and that she was perfectly safe socializing in the capital and moving around the barracks at the palace—he'd made sure not to go there since he'd heard she'd joined the mages—but common sense had thought better of the impulse. He doubted she’d appreciate any sort of contact from him. And the rumor mill would inform her that he was away soon enough.
Perhaps two month’s distance was just what he needed, and when he returned, he would have regained some sanity when it came to her. By then she might also be away on a mission, giving him even more time to deal with his unruly heart.
Perhaps. But somehow, he knew that was as unlikely as the brass raven taking flight.
Chloe gazed up the gangplank of the navire d'avion, stomach turning uneasily. The steep boards were no different to any ship she'd ever boarded, but this one didn't sail on water. Fo
ur days was barely enough time to reconcile herself to the fact that she was actually going to Andalyssia, let alone to traveling on a ship that flew through air to get there.
One of Imogene's creations. She trusted her friend’s abilities, and Imogene had reassured her several times that the navire was safe, but the reality was still daunting.
The navire would save them weeks of travel. The alternative was travel by charguerre. Magically powered iron carriages drawn by magically powered iron oxen were designed to be tough and fast, not luxurious. Bone-rattling was the politest term Imogene used for them. So a month of discomfort versus a week trusting her best friend’s skills as a mage ingenier and the strength of the mage and sanctii teams who would power the flight. She’d wanted adventure. She was about to have one.
An ensign bustled up and started checking the labels pasted on her trunks. There was an embarrassing number of them. Gowns took up far more space than uniforms, and the frantic work of Helene’s team of seamstresses meant Chloe now had more dresses fit for a royal wedding and its associated festivities than normal clothes. But apparently there must have been advance warning of the amount of baggage she would be bringing, as the ensign didn't bat an eyelid, just ticked the trunks off, asked which one she wanted taken to her cabin, and pointed her toward the gangplank.
She hefted the bag on her shoulder and tightened her grip on the other small leather case she carried—full of medicinal herbs and other sundry magical supplies. Overkill, perhaps, when the mission had any number of fully trained earth witches, but she liked to be prepared.
Besides, she still had the lingering edges of the dire headache caused by the reveille, and she'd rather treat that herself than ask one of the others.
The gangplank swayed slightly beneath her feet but seemed sturdy enough. Still, she tightened her grip on her travel case. It contained, amongst other things, a small fortune's worth of Imogene's jewels. She didn't want those tumbling into the water.
That would hardly be an auspicious start to her journey to Andalyssia.
Andalyssia.
It still seemed unreal. Imogene had told her as much as she knew of the place while Chloe was engulfed in a whirlwind of fittings. Though Imogene had tried her best to stay neutral, occasionally Chloe caught a worried expression on her friend’s face, and her commentary had leaned heavily to the history of Illvya's tense relationship with the Andalyssians.
Of all the countries that made up the empire, the Andalyssians had been the most fractious for over a decade now. They hadn't outright rebelled since one of the Ashmeisters had attempted treason, but they still did their best to maintain as much secrecy and autonomy over their country as they could.
She didn’t blame them for that. Empires came from conquest, after all, and even if that conquest had been long ago, and even if the empire did seem to operate to benefit everyone these days, she understood the resentment that came with having choices taken away or life turned on a whim so that the ground crumbled beneath your feet.
When it came to a whole country, she could understand that that hurt would not dissolve quickly. Particularly if there were those within the country who still wanted to keep it fresh, as apparently the older generations of Andalyssians did.
"Lieutenant de Montesse, welcome aboard," Captain Theisse said as she crested the gangplank and stepped onto the deck itself. "You're in cabin 10. You're sharing with Lieutenant Olivier." He pointed behind him at an open doorway situated beneath the upper deck where, like on a ship, the wheel used to steer the navire was housed.
The sight of it set a fresh wave of nerves loose in her gut.
Goddess. She didn't even know all the terminology for a ship's parts. What was she doing? But too late to change her mind now. “Lieutenant Olivier. Yes, sir.”
She'd met Giane Olivier on her first day.
A fresh-faced twenty-three-year-old, who'd only been in the mages six months herself. She'd seemed smart and keen and boundlessly cheerful.
Chloe had once been smart and keen and boundlessly cheerful, too. Maybe Giane would rub off on her. She was going to have to get used to bright young things in the mages outranking and out-experiencing her at every turn.
"You're not scheduled to be one of the navire crew,” Captain Theisse continued. “Colonel Brodier wants you focused on learning the briefing materials. So get yourself settled and stay put while we get underway. That's scheduled for about an hour for now. Once we're underway, dinner will be in the mess hall at six."
In other words, make herself scarce until then. Fine with her. She had no particular desire to watch the ship lift off. Something about it just seemed unnatural, despite Imogene's reassurances.
"Yes, sir," she said again.
Skirting around him, she made her way across the deck, moving carefully as the navire swayed slightly in the water. They were designed to land in water or on land, and the changes to their keels to enable that meant they sat heavy in the water. Or so Imogene had said.
Chloe had been too busy with everything else she'd needed to do in the last four days, not to mention fighting her headache, to take in the technical explanations. She'd just nodded at Imogene and focused on not being stabbed with too many pins while trying to practice Andalyssian in her head.
Having a language poured into one's mind by magic was an odd experience. Strange words floated across her thoughts regularly, but she didn't know what all of them meant. She had the vocabulary but not yet the context.
Which seemed to also neatly sum up her current feelings about the mission overall. She knew some of the theory of what she was supposed to do, but she was about to sink or swim when it came to putting it into practice.
If only Imogene was coming with her.
But no. Imogene had her own duties, and Chloe had wanted adventure and to see the empire. A journey all the way across it met that definition, even if she hadn't been expecting to cover so much of the continent at once.
She made her way across the deck, avoiding the black-clad crew who all seemed intent on doing various tasks with practiced efficiency.
Chloe's experience of ships was limited, most of it gained on her journeys to and from Anglion. Her father had taken them on vacations over the years, but they'd usually traveled overland to Kesseret or Sasskine. And that had been before her mother fell ill. There'd been no pleasure travel after that. Ana had been too frail. There had been trips to various temples and retreats for treatment, but those were accomplished by slow, cautious carriage rides rather than by ship.
Imogene warned her that some people could get airsick as they did seasick. Chloe's stomach hadn't much been bothered by sea travel, but she'd prepared some stomach soothing teas just in case. And hunted through her earth magic textbooks for the section on charms against such things.
The door that led below deck was narrow and not much taller than her. The men on the mission would spend half their days ducking to go in and out. Inside, the ceiling was low and the light came from earth lamps, which was one reassuring thing. Safer than naked flames on a wooden ship flying through the air. She followed the stenciled signs on the wooden walls down a steep short staircase to the first of the lower decks and, from there, along to her cabin.
Cabin 10 was small, with a set of small bunk beds. Giane wasn’t there, nor was there any sign of any of her things, so Chloe claimed the lower bunk. Let the younger woman clamber up and down. She might have more time in the corps than Chloe, but Chloe had the experience to know that sometimes it was better to take what you wanted.
She unpacked her bags into one of the wooden chests bolted to the floor by the foot of the bunks and hung a few things in the small armoire likewise bolted to the wall. There was a small table similarly fastened to the floor with lockable drawers underneath the single round window, or porthole, maybe. She put her notebook and leather folder of briefing papers into the top one, locked it, and pocketed the key.
There being little else to do, given she didn't want to look out the window and
her trunk was still somewhere else, she sat on the bed and tried to calm her nerves.
The journey wasn't going to take more than a week, if the winds cooperated. They would make several overnight stops for rest and to deliver mail and other official news and such before they eventually landed in Elenia, the country bordering Andalyssia.
Elenians were more friendly toward the empire than the mountain nation, so it had been deemed safer to leave the navire there. The last stage of the journey into the Eissgora would involve the charguerres Imogene disliked so much.
But now, best not to think of that. One step at a time or she would be overwhelmed.
The cabin didn't offer much scope for entertainment. It seemed risky to pull out the briefing papers until they were safely in the air. Otherwise, she might just end up chasing them around the room, should the takeoff not go smoothly.
But she had brought a few novels in her travel bag, so she retrieved one of those and retreated to the bed, stomach twisting. Imogene had recommended the author when Chloe first returned, and she'd enjoyed the first book—a satisfying mix of adventure and romance—she'd tried, so she’d purchased more to bring with her for when she required distraction. Like now. She wanted to be a diplomat, but that didn't mean she couldn't be a little daunted until she found her feet. It was normal. It was no different to the first few days after she'd agreed to marry Charl or the few days before her wedding or the first few months in Anglion. Nerves would fade with time as she became familiar with her new circumstances.
She’d only read a few pages when Giane arrived. They made small talk as she unpacked. She, too, retreated to her bunk for the takeoff, after reassuring Chloe that there really was nothing to worry about. As she had done this before, Chloe made herself try to believe her. Imogene had created these things, she reminded herself sternly. The emperor had flown in one. It was safe.
In the end, it was uneventful. The navire jerked a little, and then there was a sensation not quite like anything else Chloe had ever experienced as they rose into the air. And once they stopped climbing, the shallow angle of the vessel becoming flat once more, there was little besides a gentle bobbing from time to time, the same as a ship on a relatively smooth sea.
