“Victory? I never expected this fight.”
“Nevertheless, it served its purpose well. Rather than have to dig them out, or worse, having them slip away and our spending months searching, they came straight to us to be slaughtered.”
“We lost two cruisers, and the Kavana is out of action. If we had been fighting a fleet of the banner, I would expect that. But against these humans? And it is so far from home. If a cyclone strikes, the Kavana will go under.”
“Sire, we know that they had eight ships that they designated as cruisers. Seven of the eight are confirmed as sunk along with eight or more of their smaller ships. That, sire, is nearly their entire fleet. They are defenseless now. Admiral Ullani informs me as well that the storm is abating.” Yasim said nothing, but silently thanked the gods. At least, around Kazan, if a storm threatened a leeward bay or shelter could be found. The vastness of this ocean was too troubling and too fraught with peril.
“Be evening we will be off their coast. In two days’ time a harbor will be secured for the fleet while the transports can proceed to the Bantag coast.”
“Something tells me this will not go according to the plan.”
“War never does. There will be some flyers attacking today, that must be expected. We might take some small damage.”
“As much as last evening?”
“I do not know, Your Highness, but I doubt it. If the flyers were effective, they would have waited, held their fleet back and sent them all in at once. The fact that they did not indicates to me that the power of the flyers is negligible, and their admiral decided to risk all on an evening attack in the storm. Actually, an admirable move.”
“Yes, admirable and costly.”
“More so to them. It is all but finished now.”
“You truly believe so, don’t you.”
Hazin looked straight at him and smiled. “With certainty.”
Another swell rocked the ship, and Yasim turned, retreating to his bed, and lay down. The ship rocked again, and Yasim fumbled for the gold basin by the side of his bed and vomited weakly. Letting the basin drop, he laid back gasping.
Hazin went over to a side table, poured a cup of weak tea into a mug to use as a decanter, damped a towel with water, and went to the emperor’s bedside, helping him to wipe his face. The emperor sipped down the tea, then laid back.
Hazin started to withdraw, then stopped. “Sire, a suggestion.”
“And that is?”
“Let me transfer to another ship.”
“Which ship? One that is infiltrated by your people?”
“Then one of the smaller ships if you suspect such. You pick it, a cruiser.”
“Your reason?”
“The main battle has been fought and won. The transports bearing the assault troops are still a day behind us even with our delay here. I suspect your decision will be to send the main force into Constantine as planned, and let the secondary force and supplies continue on to the Bantag coast. A ship should be left here to convey that information upon their arrival.”
“Any courier can do that. Why the Grand Master?”
“You suspect duplicity, don’t you, sire?”
“With you, Hazin, it is the very air you breathe.”
“Sire, that shell that struck the bridge. It killed the man standing between you and me. Suppose it had killed both of us.”
“Then we would no longer be together, Hazin,” Yasim said dryly.
“You have an unborn child. How long would its mother live if word should return of your death?”
Yasim looked at him in surprise. “How did you know that? It was supposed to be a secret.”
“Secrets? From me?”
“Perhaps it is I who should then wait for the transports to arrive, thus sparing you such worries.”
“Sire, we both know that is impossible. The emperors of the Kazan have always led their armies into battle.”
Yasim did not respond, for another swell had rocked the ship and, grabbing up a gold basin, he shuddered, swallowed hard, then put the basin down, looking up weakly.
“Let me speak practically to you, to reveal the duplicity if I must,” said Hazin.
“Go on.”
“If you die, how long would I last? As you have had dozens of rivals, so have I within the Order. Even as we are here, they are undoubtedly plotting back home with the families of your cousins who still survive, who are out here with you even now, but who will turn on one another if you are dead. I will be one of the first to fall when you are gone.”
“So stay with me. Then if you have some premonition, you can end it swiftly.”
“Sire, I can ensure the survival of your child, your own blood. That is my guarantee if something should happen, and that is the duplicity behind the practical suggestion.”
“So noble of you, Hazin.”
“Nobility has nothing to do with it. But there is another layer within the game, sire. Let the victory be yours tomorrow. If I am aboard, there will be more than one who will whisper that it was I, Hazin, who made the decisions and but handed them to you to carry out.”
Yasim bristled.
“It is what some will say, sire, and we both know that. By transferring me, it could be even seen as your breaking away from me, leaving me behind to ensure your own place and glory and that I have fallen somewhat from favor.”
“Why so concerned for me and my glory?”
Hazin smiled. “Practicality, survival, advancement. The warriors of the Shiv will win glory enough later.”
Yasim laid back and closed his eyes. “Take the Zhiva. I can spare one more cruiser.”
“A wise decision, sire. My staff and I will transfer at dawn.”
Hazin withdrew so quietly that Yasim wasn’t even sure if he had left until he opened his eyes to check.
There had to be a scheme within a scheme here, he realized. Though all the things Hazin had cited were true, there had to be another factor. But he was too weary to think about it now, and in spite of his sickness, he soon drifted off to sleep, not aware of the fact that the warm tea Hazin had handed him was laced with a mild drug to make him compliant.
EIGHTEEN
Dawn came slowly, with low scudding clouds racing in from the sea, bringing moments of driving rain that passed quickly to show brief glimpses of clear pale blue sky overhead.
Standing by the number three dock of the naval yard, Cromwell waited anxiously with the knot of officers. Beyond the gate blocking access to the pier, he could see hundreds gathered; enlisted personnel, naval yard workers, and wives, hundreds of frightened wives, their murmuring voices carrying with the wind.
It was obvious the frigate had been in a fight. Its foremast was gone, the aft turret was nothing but scorched ruins, and the ship was listing heavily at the stern, black coiling smoke curled up from several breaks in the deck.
A harbor tug eased it into the dock, lines snaking out from the shore. Sailors on board, more than one of them striped to the waist, their bodies blackened from smoke, grabbed the lines, securing them. The gangplank was barely down when a dozen officers raced aboard, the rest of the crowd held back by a line of sailors with rifles.
In less than a minute, one of the officers was coming back down the gangplank. Ignoring shouted pleas for information, he mounted up and rode to the gate, a detail of sailors falling in around him so that he could get through the mob waiting outside the navy yard.
If he wouldn’t talk, the sailors lining the deck of the shattered frigate most certainly would. Within moments Cromwell heard the comments racing through the crowd on the dock…“fleet sunk…Bullfinch dead…everything gone…the Kazan are coming!”
The word seemed to leap like a lightning bolt to the mob beyond the gate. A wild hysterical cry erupted, a commingling of screams, prayers, curses, and weeping.
Hundreds tried to surge in as the gate slipped open to let the mounted officer pass, others turned and started running back to the city.