The battle was the climax of the morning’s show. Next would come the tedious routine of executions of criminals of Kazan blood, something the baser elements of the crowd enjoyed, especially when a notorious case was at last brought to justice, but nowhere near as exciting as watching humans slaughter one another.
The counters of the dead were busy at work, dragging the bodies off, down through the northern gate, the gate of the dead. Below, the bidders waited. The more dramatic the death, the higher the price would go, the winners dragging off their prizes as a trophy of prestige for the evening’s feast.
The emperor, yawning, a display to indicate his boredom with the tedious bloodletting to come, stood up and left his box. He motioned for Hazin to follow.
Withdrawing under the shadow of the entry arch, the emperor followed his guards down the corridor and turned into a private chamber, a comfortable hideaway where the imperial presence could relax or amuse himself. The guards closed the door behind them.
“Quite a show. Who was the human that survived?”
“Just one of my Shiv. A commander of a thousand.”
“Hmm, seems a waste to throw such training and skill into the arena. Any particular reason?”
“A hundred are chosen to die each month, and all volunteer for the honor.”
“Still, I do wonder how it is they are chosen.”
Hazin smiled, but was silent.
“A good way to cleanse. No matter what you claim of your breeding and training, surely they must desire to live.”
“Those that desire it too much find themselves on the sand,” Hazin replied. “It is a lesson for all to ponder. Even you and I shall face that someday.”
The emperor, who had pouring himself a drink, turned, obviously wondering what was the veiled meaning of Hazin’s words.
“Nothing intended, Your Highness. Just an observation.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you about the escape.”
“Escape of whom?”
“The captured human. How did it happen?”
Sooner or later he knew that an imperial spy would find out. Cromwell had flown low over the harbor. The plane had to have been spotted and questions raised.
“As all escapes do. He found an opportunity and fled. Those who were at fault paid. You watched several of them die today, those tied to the posts for poisonings.”
“So all of them have been punished.”
“But of course.”
“Hmm.” He sipped his drink, eyes half closed, warily gazing at Hazin. “I take it all is in readiness for departure.” Hazin nodded. “You should know that from your fleet commanders. All ships of the Red Banner designated for the attack are to sail within seven days. The assault transports for the Shiv will follow a day later. Fifty thousand men. As long as your ships fulfill their tasks, in three weeks the Shiv will land on the Bantag coast. One umen will support the assault on their main port, called Constantine. Eight supply ships will carry additional arms for the Bantag.
“I am not comfortable with committing my land cruisers to that attack. It leaves my reserves here dangerously thin.”
“From what threat, sire? Any potential rival sees what can be gained there. The fiefdoms carved out will be vaster than all of Kazan. Why run the risk of engaging in a fight against you when such power and wealth can be had simply for going along with this attack?”
The emperor put down his drink and drew closer to Hazin. “What is your game, Grand Master?”
“Sire?”
The emperor smiled. “There is a game within this game. Your arguments for attacking the Republic are simple enough on the surface. They are a growing threat, and it is better to slay the cub in its cradle than wait for it to be full-grown. The wealth in resources to be taken, the diversion of my fractious cousins, all of it seems simple enough, but with you there has to be more.”
“I have all I desire already, sire. You ensured that when you supported me against the last Grand Master, who threatened both of us. There is nothing else.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
Hazin stiffened, stepping back a pace. He stared straight into the emperor’s eyes, and the imperial gaze dropped.
“Do not interpret what I said the wrong way, Grand Master.”
“Of course not, Your Highness. I never interpret anything the wrong way.”
There was a moment of awkward silence.
“I assume you are going with this expedition.”
“Sire?”
“Just that. It is, after all, the greatest effort in the field your order has attempted. I assumed you were going.” Hazin was silent.
“In fact, as your emperor, I order it. Admiral Biza has already been informed to that effect.”
“I see.”
The emperor smiled.
“An honor I did not expect, to be requested to journey with you for this campaign.”
“Of course not, but you shall find it amusing.”
Hazin started to turn away, not bothering to wait for a formal dismissal, and then he looked back over his shoulder.
“The poisoning show was most interesting today, wasn’t it? The third man on the right, the one whose face turned black as he swallowed his own tongue in convulsions, I designed that myself. It is remarkable stuff-tasteless, odorless. A dozen drops kill almost at once, but only three or four drops are far more interesting.”
He said the words coldly, impressing upon this rival the knowledge that if anything should befall him, one of his order would find a way to get through all the guards, all the precautions, and gain revenge.
Without waiting for a reply he slammed the door shut, leaving the emperor alone with his fears.
TWELVE
Exhausted, legs so numb from yet another day of riding that he could barely stand, Abraham Keane came to attention and saluted.
“Lieutenant Keane reporting, sir.”
Vincent Hawthorne, smiling, returned the salute, and nodded for Abe to take a camp chair by the fire. Vincent absently poked the coals, then leaned back, drawing a puff on his cigar, and exhaled.
“Son, I’m heading on back to headquarters tomorrow. Though I would prefer if you stayed with my command, I can’t deny your request for a field assignment, so you’ll stay with the 3rd, A Troop.”
Abe nodded his thanks. It was a choice assignment, the scout company.
“We’re not escorting you back to Fort Malady?” Vincent shook his head. “I’m taking that flyer that circled in. I’m expected all the way back in Suzdal. The 3rd, however, has been ordered to turn back around and shadow the Bantag. Ten regiments of cavalry are being deployed from their forts. You’re going straight back to where we were a week ago, then continue to push southeast.”
Abe said nothing. Ten regiments meant ten thousand men, but if it turned into a fight they’d be outnumbered twenty to one.
“Gatling companies are going out with each, so that should beef your strength up a bit. and two squadrons of aerosteamers will be flying patrols. Land ironclad units are being sent up as well.”
“Two squadrons? That’s only twenty-four planes, sir.”
“I know. Your father has something else in mind for the rest of the Aerosteamer Corps.”
Abe knew better than to ask, but his curiosity was aroused.
“We finally got a flyer report yesterday afternoon that Bantag encampments all along the western frontier were packing up. This morning the flyer returned to report that the main encampment was empty, having already moved a dozen miles to the southeast.”
“Could they just be following the herd of mammoths or bison? They’re still inside their own territory,” Abe said hopefully.
Vincent shook his head.
“No, I don’t think so. Jurak knows well enough what the warning implied. Either he is doing it now to see what will happen, or something was already planned long ago and is now taking place.”
“I could sense that,” Abe replied sadly. “The message, it was no real surprise, almost as if we are all moving toward something inevitable.”