by Cas Peace
Opposite Ephan, General Kryp stared at Sullyan with open hostility. His paunch heaved with every indignant breath and she waited for his outburst. Commander Vanyr’s face was stony and sullen, but it seemed he was willing to let Kryp do his objecting for him.
After a few more moments of silence, the Hierarch stirred, collecting their attention.
“Anjer?”
The Lord General straightened. “Majesty, I will not ask if the Major’s offer is acceptable to you. The fact that she bears your colors answers that. And she is right, we have no one qualified to face the Duke in combat. Only one of us here has first-hand experience of his skill, and I doubt that man would want to repeat it.”
He paused, and the Hierarch inclined his head. Sullyan would have given much to know who Anjer was referring to. None of them gave it away, though, and despite his impersonal phrasing, she strongly suspected it was Anjer himself, or maybe the Hierarch.
“All I ask is this. Do you have any proof—beside the word of her King and General, who might be biased—that her combat skills are as great as she claims? Leaving aside what Ephan has heard, she is still a woman, and Rykan is reputedly the best swordsman in our realm.”
“Well said, Anjer,” snapped Kryp. “The very idea’s preposterous.”
Anjer’s eyes betrayed annoyance at Kryp’s derisory tone. He ignored the man and turned to Sullyan.
“Forgive my skepticism, Major, but if we were to accept your claim and your offer, then our lives, our ruler’s life, and the fate of our realm would ultimately rest on your shoulders. And I think you will agree,” he gave a small smile, “they are not very broad shoulders.”
This drew a vast snort from Kryp. Sullyan spared him one piercing glance before turning back to Anjer. Aware that he was humoring her, she kept her tone neutral.
“My Lord, you are right to be cautious, and I concede that I am untried in your eyes. I do not wonder that you doubt me, considering the status of women in this realm.”
Both Kryp and Vanyr bridled, and even Ephan frowned. She swept on.
“Therefore, my Lords, Majesty, I ask that you give me a command. I am more than happy to prove my abilities in the field.”
Kryp leaped his feet, joined this time by Vanyr. The General’s grating voice was indignant with anger.
“That’s a monstrous idea, quite disgusting! She’s a woman, a girl! Whoever heard of such a travesty? It might be acceptable in Albia where they’re scarcely even intelligent, let alone civilized, but here? Really, Majesty, I must protest!”
Pharikian eyed him. “Must you, Kryp? Exactly what are you objecting to? I grant you she’s a young woman, but she is also a Major, a leader of men. Do you think her own command would follow her if she couldn’t do as she claims? She’s won an impressive array of battle honors, almost as many as you! Don’t you think that trial on the field of combat is an excellent way to gauge the skill and success of a military leader, whatever their age or gender? Or are you perhaps afraid that the Major might prove to be more skilled in her command than you are in yours?”
The barb shot home. Shaken by this personal attack on top of Sullyan’s earlier comment, Kryp gaped like a snared rabbit. Deflated, he sat. Pharikian stared at him in distaste. Ephan remained silent, keeping his thoughts to himself, but Anjer was more practical. Eyeing Sullyan, he said, “I have no sound reason to object to the Major’s request. However, finding men prepared to follow her might be a problem.”
Vanyr raised a hand. “Perhaps I might make a suggestion, Majesty?”
His diffident tone didn’t fool Sullyan and her eyes narrowed. This was what she had been waiting for. The Hierarch gestured for Vanyr to speak on, and the Lord General raised his brows.
Vanyr smiled. “Give her Ky-shan.”
Anjer rolled his eyes and Ephan looked as though he might protest. Kryp, however, beamed and clapped Vanyr soundly on the back.
“An excellent suggestion, Commander! I, for one, would be happy to accept the Major as his Majesty’s Champion if she proves her skills by leading Ky-shan’s men.”
Ephan stirred. “Majesty ….”
“Ky-shan?” Sullyan’s musing tone interrupted him. “A man from the eastern seaboard, by his name. And a pirate, unless I am mistaken.”
Kryp’s smirk disappeared and Vanyr scowled. Ephan’s protest died on his lips, but his mouth stayed open. Anjer relaxed back into his chair once more, arms folded across his chest.
Kryp leaned forward, his wheezy voice rising with astonishment. “How on earth did you know that, girl?”
“I travelled extensively through Andaryon in my youth, General. I sailed the eastern seas once or twice.”
The phrase ‘in my youth’ made Kryp’s eyes bulge. Sullyan saw Robin close his own mouth. This was a tale even he hadn’t heard before. She turned once more to Anjer.
“I would appreciate a little more information, Lord General, if you please.”
Caught out in his enjoyment of Kryp’s discomfiture, Anjer rallied quickly. “You seem remarkably well-informed already, Major.”
She didn’t react to the compliment, merely waited for his explanation.
“Well, you’re correct. Ky-shan is the leader of a band of men hailing from the eastern seaboard. I think he might object to the term ‘pirate’, though. Free traders, I believe they call themselves. Technically, eastern seaboarders come under his Majesty’s direct rule, but in practice they take little notice of the affairs of land-dwellers. Our recruiting officers went to the area, as they often do in search of suitable fighting men, and Ky-shan’s band was attracted by the pay, the general amnesty, and the promise of bounty should Rykan be defeated. Such men are often skilled and ferocious fighters, but they are little used to fighting on land. This particular group has proved difficult to handle and unreliable as regards following orders. They have had several commanders already, yet none have been willing to take them into battle.”
He paused, glancing pointedly at Vanyr. “Torman, weren’t you their last commander?”
The white-eyed man shot Sullyan an evil look. “I was indeed, Lord General. Ky-shan is a conscienceless rogue who respects no one and follows no discipline but his own. My own men distrusted him and refused to take the field with his band.”
“Yet you think they’re a suitable command for the Major?”
At the Hierarch’s interruption, Vanyr paled, realizing he had gone too far. “I only suggested them, Majesty, as all the other units are settled. Ky-shan’s band is the only one without an officer. What better way for the Major to prove herself than with such an untried company? As my Lord General has so rightly pointed out, it would be impossible to convince an established force to follow her.”
Pharikian’s lip curled. “That was your reasoning, was it?”
To forestall any further unpleasantness, Sullyan turned back to Anjer. “My Lord, how many men does Ky-shan have?”
“Around sixty, Major.”
“A discreet yet useful number. Are any of them Artesans?”
Anjer gestured to Vanyr, who answered sullenly. “Ky-shan and his son both have some power, but they are raw and untrained. Hardly surprising, as such ruffians set no store by discipline.”
She raised her brows but made no reply. “Are they well-armed and mounted?”
Anjer frowned. “You sound as if you’re considering taking them on, Major.”
“In the absence of any other suitable candidates, Lord General, I believe I am.”
Vanyr exchanged a smug look with Kryp, and Sullyan also caught a glimpse of Robin’s concerned expression. He wouldn’t be feeling confident about this band of ‘free traders’ and she had to admit they sounded like a handful. However, he would back her in whatever she decided.
Anjer shrugged. “They have what they came with, Major. I imagine they are armed well enough, but as to the rest, you will have to see for yourself.”
“May I have your authority to requisition what I might need, my Lord?”
Anjer twitc
hed a hand at Gaslek, who hastily wrote on a parchment. “You will have my authority, Major.” Gaslek passed him the parchment, which he signed with a flourish. He pressed his ring to the wax Gaslek dripped on it, and then the secretary came around the table to hand the parchment over. Sullyan scanned it quickly before laying it on the table to dry.
“I thank you, my Lord. I have one more question. Where are they quartered?”
Ephan answered. “They have a compound in the northern quarter, Major. I will have someone show you the way.”
“I appreciate the offer, General, but it will not be necessary. The Captain and I will find them.”
Ephan shrugged.
Satisfied with the outcome of the meeting, Sullyan bowed. She was about to retreat to her seat next to Robin when the Hierarch motioned for her to take one of the chairs at the oval table. Humbled by the honor, she took the chair directly opposite him, deliberately placing herself in the lowest position. This wasn’t lost on either Pharikian or Anjer. She then gestured for Robin to come and stand behind her, which earned her a hard stare from Kryp. She chose to ignore it.
Anjer spared her one last glance before turning back to his commanders. “Very well, gentlemen, I propose we adopt the Major’s strategy. Ephan, Kryp, I want to see you both in my office in one hour with full details of your companies’ strengths. I want suggestions as to which units will carry out strikes on Rykan’s column with the aim of distracting and splitting his men.”
Sullyan sat in silence, observing the play of emotion across the warleaders’ faces as Anjer outlined her strategy. Now and then she crossed glances with Kryp and Vanyr which Anjer noticed. While he didn’t remark on it, the expression in his eyes was hard.
Sullyan was pleased to learn that she would be reporting to Ephan rather than Kryp. The Hierarch thanked and dismissed them, and the warleaders rose to leave. As they approached the door, Sullyan saw Anjer throw a massive arm across Kryp’s heavily padded shoulders. Kryp looked none too pleased by the intimacy. They left the room together, and she stifled a laugh when she heard Anjer say, “So remind me, Kryp, when was the last time you used your sword in the field?”
Vanyr shot her a venomous look as he left, but she affected not to notice, busying herself with folding Anjer’s authority and stowing it inside her jacket. Ephan passed behind her on his way to the door, and he was the only one who spoke.
“It seems we’ll be seeing more of each other than I thought, Major. I wish you good fortune in your new command.”
She flashed him a brief but genuine smile. “I thank you, General. Let us hope for a swift and favorable outcome to this conflict.”
“Indeed.”
The Hierarch also dismissed Gaslek, and the little secretary hurried after the others. Pharikian remained behind, alone but for his page and the guards by the door. He watched Sullyan quietly for a few moments, studying her face now that the ordeal was over. She held his regard and he shook his head.
“That was very cleverly done, Brynne. You did well to get Anjer on your side so quickly.”
She looked down at her hands, trying to conceal their trembling. She was wearier than she wanted to admit.
“He was not as prejudiced as he might have been, Majesty. You are fortunate to have such a man at the head of your forces. He is not so blinded by tradition that he cannot see or consider new ideas.”
“Hmm. Not like Kryp, eh, Brynne? He couldn’t see a new idea if it sat on his nose and bit him!” They exchanged smiles. “But he will bear watching, child, as will his protégé, Vanyr. The man hates you, although why he should, I don’t know.”
She sighed. “I am unnatural in his eyes, Majesty. He sees me as a threat. I outrank him in both military and Artesan skills, and he will never have encountered a woman in such a powerful position before. He is eager to prove that his weapons skills are superior to mine, as they may well be. He looks like a dangerous man.”
“You are right, Brynne, he has a notorious and well-deserved reputation. So let me warn you. Don’t get trapped into fighting him. Not only is dueling forbidden within my forces, but in wartime it is punishable by death. I can make no exceptions.”
“I will remember that, Majesty. Let me assure you, I have no intention whatsoever of dueling with Commander Vanyr.” She cast a sly glance at Robin, who colored at her tacit reference to his fight with Parren.
The Hierarch watched the exchange, but said nothing. Suddenly he laughed, causing Sullyan to start.
“Oh, Brynne, you are a dose of spring water, and no mistake! It might have been your father standing there today, playing my generals as he played his harp. It was a joy to watch.”
He sobered. “Ah, but you look weary. Go and rest before commencing your duties. I’ll send Deshan to you. He tells me he has found something that should strengthen you.”
He turned to go, and then paused by the door. “Oh, I nearly forgot. I am hosting a small dinner party tonight, to give us all some relief from this uncertain situation. I would take it as a personal favor if you and your Captain would attend.”
She inclined her head. “We would be honored, Majesty. I thank you for your kindness.”
Then he surprised her again. “Count Marik will be joining your command in the field. Bring him to dinner too.”
Chapter Seventeen
Taran made his way back to his shared quarters, reflecting that this would be a memorable day for Cal if what he was planning went well. He had been working on it ever since their return to the Manor, but Cal had no idea. He smiled. Even Rienne seemed a bit more cheerful this morning, and considering how uncharacteristically listless and preoccupied she had been lately, it was a relief. Being forced to leave Sullyan had hurt Rienne deeply even though Taran and Cal had done everything they could to comfort her. Until today, her sorrow hadn’t lifted.
Following Sullyan’s request, Rienne had taken charge of the Major’s harp and guitar. Entering her abandoned quarters to fetch them had affected the healer profoundly. Taran could see how the memories of the happy evening the two women had spent there brought tears to Rienne’s eyes, and Cal had told him that she passed the rest of that day in their sleeping room, just staring at the guitar in her lap. Rienne hadn’t touched either instrument since.
Bull hadn’t been much help. He was even more melancholy than Rienne. He sat either in his rooms or in Sullyan’s silent office with a half-empty glass of firewater by his elbow and a bleary look in his eye. Worried that he was drinking too heavily, Taran had spent some time alone with him. Finally, the big man seemed to have thrown off the worst of his misery.
Since returning from Andaryon, Taran and Cal had spent much of their time working on their Artesan skills. Now that he had gained Mastery over Water, Taran’s next task was to learn how to influence Fire. He would also have to initiate and control Powersinks, whatever rank the other participants held. Cal was working toward Apprentice-elite, which meant strengthening his communication skills and learning how to identify unknown Artesans just by the pattern of their psyche. Taran had been training him hard and was pleased with Cal’s progress.
That particular morning Taran had risen early, telling Cal he was going to talk to Bull. The Apprentice would be alone in their suite, as Rienne had resumed her duties in the infirmary. Cal didn’t mind, as it was the only activity that could prod her out of her sadness, if only for a while. He told Taran he would spend the morning playing his longwhistle or practicing his Artesan skills. Now, as Taran approached, he could hear the strains of a folk tune coming from the suite. He smiled and pushed open the door, feeling genuine pleasure in the day. Cal looked up from his whistle, his brows rising in query.
“Come on,” said Taran, “I told Rienne and Bull we’d meet them in the commons for a bite.” He turned without waiting for a reply, leaving Cal to pocket his whistle and follow.
There was a lively hum of conversation in the commons. Since the cessation of Andaryan hostilities, the Manor had become quite crowded. The various companies st
ationed there took turns at guard duty, exercises, and patrolling the countryside, but there were always two or three units resting. The commons always filled up at mealtimes and was a noisy, friendly place.
As he and Cal entered, Taran could see Bull sitting at his favorite table. The big man was talking to Sullyan’s company sergeant, Dexter. Taran and Cal had become acquainted with Dexter during their time fighting the invasion, but over the past few days they had gotten to know him much better. Dexter had quick wits and a cheerful disposition, and was thoroughly enjoying his spell as temporary commander of Sullyan’s company. With luck and hard work, he knew it could be his passage to promotion.
The two men had their heads close together, and from what Taran could see Bull was sober. As he and Cal approached, Bull looked up and smiled. Taran nodded with relief. The big man’s eyes were clear of the effects of drink. He took the chair Bull pushed toward him, and Dexter shoved one at Cal.
“Tad!” called Bull, over the din of conversation. The young lad sprinted over from the kitchens and took their order. Taran and Cal settled into their chairs, Cal appraising the big man openly.
“You seem more cheerful today, Bull.”
Bull grimaced. “I suppose I’ve not been the best company lately.”
Dexter snorted and leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. “That’s a fact! You’ve been a morose old lush, mate.”
Bull lunged forward and swatted his arm. “That’s enough of your cheek, my lad. I may be retired, but I could still teach you a thing or two.”
Dexter grinned and rubbed his arm.
The commons door opened again and Rienne entered, accompanied by Chief Healer Hanan. The two women had grown close through working together, and Taran was glad Rienne had someone of her own gender to talk to. They parted at the door and Rienne came over. She looked tired and careworn, her grey eyes clouded, her long hair dull. She rarely smiled these days, which wasn’t like her, and Taran was pleased to see her face lighten when Bull got to his feet and kissed her cheek.
