“Help?” she repeated, ignoring the last three words, her expression confused. “Who’s going to be able to help us now?”
“Well, it happens that if you’re willing to let me ask for assistance, I have a… friend who might just be able to do a little something for us after all.”
“You’re joking!” Trahvys Ohlsyn said, looking back and forth between Merlin Athrawes and Bynzhamyn Raice. “Aren’t you?”
“Does he look like he’s joking?” Baron Wave Thunder demanded, jabbing a thumb in Merlin’s direction.
“No, but…” Earl Pine Hollow’s voice trailed off, and Wave Thunder chuckled.
“All this new information access takes some getting used to, doesn’t it?”
“You can say that again!” Pine Hollow shook his head. “And, to be honest, the fact that I’m still playing catch-up in so many areas doesn’t help. I haven’t had as much time to practice with this ‘com’ as I should have because I’m so busy discovering all the balls Earl Gray Harbor had in the air.” He shook his head again. “I always respected the Earl, but I hadn’t even begun to guess everything he’d been up to!”
“You do have a hard example to live up to, My Lord,” Merlin agreed soberly. “I think you’ll do well, though. And I hate to say it, but having you as a member of the inner circle’s going to help a great deal in the long run.”
“I’ll grant you that it’s not going to hurt any,” Pine Hollow said with an off-center smile. “I do wish I’d known about it while Nahrmahn was still alive, though. And I wish I could tell Baron Shandyr about it now.” The Emeraldian earl chuckled. “Hahl still hasn’t figured out why your counter-espionage efforts here in Old Charis were so damned effective!”
“Hopefully someday we’ll have the chance to explain that to him,” Merlin said with an answering smile. “For right now, though, there’s this other minor matter…?”
“Of course there is!” Pine Hollow gave himself a shake. “I’m still having a little trouble believing it, though!”
“Well, the messenger wyvern’s on its way right now.” Merlin shrugged. “The SNARC Owl has keeping an eye on Irys and Coris picked up on the key words ‘Charis,’ ‘Cayleb,’ ‘Clyntahn,’ and ‘assassination’ when they discussed what to do. That was enough to flag the entire conversation to me and Bynzhamyn. I’ll ask Owl to shoot the visual and the audio over to you later tonight, but the key point is that they’re asking for asylum. I don’t think Irys is quite prepared to promise she or Daivyn will swear fealty to Cayleb and Sharleyan or accept Corisande’s permanent incorporation into the Empire, but from what I can see she’s at least confident we won’t murder her baby brother. From her perspective, that’s a major step up from the situation they’re in.”
“I can see where that might be true,” Pine Hollow said feelingly. “The question is what we do about it.”
“I think the first order of business is probably to discuss it with Cayleb and Sharleyan,” Merlin replied. “On the other hand, I’ve discovered there are times when a little preparation work before you get around to the ‘ first order of business’ is indicated. Having a policy ready to suggest strikes me as an especially good idea in this case.”
“And you want me to do the suggesting. I see.” Pine Hollow smiled. “Do you really expect them to react that adversely?”
“On the contrary, I expect them to endorse the suggestion wholeheartedly. I just thought that as the Empire’s brand-new first councilor, with this opportunity to demonstrate your mettle coming along, you might want to take advantage of it.”
“That’s Merlin for you,” Wave Thunder snorted. “Always looking out for opportunities by which we can advance ourselves. Remind me to tell you about the first opportunity he gave me someday, My Lord.”
“Now, Bynzhamyn! Let’s not be bringing up the past,” Merlin said severely, and turned back to Pine Hollow. “What I’ve been thinking, My Lord-”
“Sir Dunkyn?”
“Yes, Hektor?” Admiral Sir Dunkyn Yairley looked up from the captains’ reports in front of him as Lieutenant Aplyn-Ahrmahk stepped into his day cabin.
“A messenger from the Port Admiral’s just come aboard, Sir. He has a dispatch for you.”
“And I presume there’s some reason you haven’t already handed it to me?”
“As a matter of fact, Sir, I’m afraid you’ll have to sign for it. Personally.”
Yairley’s eyebrows rose. He considered his young flag lieutenant for a moment, then shrugged.
“Very well, I suppose you should ask this messenger to step into the cabin.”
“Aye, Sir.”
Aplyn-Ahrmahk disappeared for a few seconds, then returned escorting a full commander.
“The plot thickens,” Yairley murmured at sight of the “messenger’s” seniority.
“Commander Jynkyns, Sir Dunkyn,” Aplyn-Ahrmahk said.
“I see. You have a dispatch for me, Commander?”
“Yes, Sir. I do.” Jynkyns saluted, then opened an attache case and extracted a heavy canvas envelope. A paper label was stitched across the open end to hold it closed, and he laid it on Yairley’s desk.
The admiral looked at it for a moment, then dipped his pen in the inkwell and scribbled his name across the label.
“Very good, Sir Dunkyn. Thank you,” Jynkyns said, retrieving the envelope and examining the signature briefly but closely. Then he drew a small knife and carefully slit the stitches which had closed the envelope. There was another smaller envelope inside, and he withdrew it and handed it to Yairley before returning the outer envelope to his attache case.
“I was instructed to inform you, Sir Dunkyn, that Admiral White Ford requests an estimate of your readiness to deal with this matter within the next two hours.”
“I see.” Yairley weighed the envelope in his fingers. It didn’t seem all that heavy, but then again, orders never did… until the time came to carry them out.
“Hektor, would you please see Commander Jynkyns back to his boat?”
“Of course, Sir Dunkyn.”
“Thank you. And, Commander,” Yairley’s gaze moved back to Jynkyns-“inform Admiral White Ford that I’ll report to him as quickly as possible.”
“I will, Sir Dunkyn. Thank you.”
The commander saluted again and withdrew, escorted by Aplyn-Ahrmahk. Yairley watched them go, and when the cabin door closed behind them, opened the second envelope, extracted the half-dozen sheets of paper, and began to read.
“Yes, Sir Dunkyn?” Aplyn-Ahrmahk said, stepping back into the day cabin ten minutes later. “Sylvyst said you wanted to see me?”
The lieutenant, Yairley observed with some amusement, was clearly on fire with curiosity about the mysterious dispatch. It was equally obvious that nothing on earth could have prevailed upon Aplyn-Ahrmahk to admit his curiosity.
“I did,” he acknowledged. “I think we’re going to be a bit busy for the next hour or so, Hektor.”
“Of course, Sir. How?”
“I am requested and required to report to Admiral White Ford within no more than two hours’ time the squadron’s readiness state and whether or not we can depart Thol Bay with the evening tide.”
Aplyn-Ahrmahk’s eyes widened slightly. Destiny had only officially left dockyard hands the day before, and-as always happened these days-she’d hemorrhaged manpower while she was being repaired. Captain Lathyk was almost seventy men short of a full complement, and the chance of his coming up with that many men in the next six hours ranged from non-existent to something somewhat less than that. Then there was the minor problem of how they provisioned and stored the ship in that same six hours… which, frankly, sounded impossible to him. There could, however, be only one possible response from any king’s officer to such an order.
“Of course, Sir,” Lieutenant Aplyn-Ahrmahk said calmly. “I’ll just go and find the Flag Captain, shall I?”