Ships from the West

Corfe stood up. 'Formio, have fast couriers sent to Aurungabar expressing our support for the new Sultan. Our wholehearted and if necessary material support. Get one of the scribes to couch it in the necessary language, but get three copies of it on the road by dawn.'

Formio nodded, and made a note on his parchment. The scrape of his quill and the crack and spit of the logs in the hearth were the only sounds in the looming emptiness of the Bladehall.

'We will be short of troops now,' Corfe continued steadily. ‘I will have to weaken Melf's southern expedition in order to make up the numbers for the main operations here.' He strode to the fire and, leaning his fists on the stone mantel, he stared at the burning logs below.

'The enemy will move now, while our ally is temporarily incapacitated. Formio, another dispatch to Aras at Gaderion. He should expect a major assault very soon. And get the courier to repeat the message to Heyd on the road north. Henceforth he will move by forced marches.

'As for Torunn itself, I want the field army here put on notice to move at once. We have wasted enough time. I will lead them out within the week.'

Formio's scratching quill went silent at that. 'The snows are still lying deep in the foothills,' he said.

'It can't be helped. In my absence you will remain here, as regent.'

'Corfe, I—'

'You will obey orders.' The King turned from the fire and smiled at Formio to soften his words. 'You are the only person I would trust with it.'

The Fimbrian subsided. From the tip of his quill the ink dripped to blot a black circle on the pale parchment. Corfe turned to Golophin.

'It would ease my mind were you to remain here with him.'

'I cannot do that, sire.'

Corfe frowned, then turned away. 'I understand. It is not your responsibility.'

'You misunderstand me, sire. I am going with you.' 'What? Why in the world—?'

'I promised a dying woman, my lord, that I would remain by your side in this coming trial.' Golophin smiled. 'Perhaps I have just got the habit of serving kings. In any case, I go with you on campaign - if you'll have me.'

Corfe bowed, and some life came back into his eyes. 'I would be honoured, master mage.' As he straightened he turned to Ensign Baraz, who had not moved.

'I would very much like to have you accompany me also, Ensign.'

The young man stepped forward, then came stiffly to attention once again. 'Yes, sir.' His eyes shone.

'There is one more thing.' Here Corfe paused, and as they watched him they saw something flicker in his eyes, some instantly hidden agony.

'Mirren must go to Aurungabar at once, to be married.'

Formio nodded, but Baraz looked utterly wretched. It was Golophin who spoke up. 'Could that not wait a while?' he asked gently. 'I have barely begun her tuition.'

'No. Were we to delay, it would be seen as uncertainty about Nasir. No. They sent us Aria, we must send them Mirren. When she marries Nasir the whole world will see that the alliance is as strong as ever despite the death of Aurungzeb, the turning back of the Merduk reinforcements.'

'It is the clearest signal we can send,' Formio agreed.

And it was only right, Corfe thought, for himself to suffer something of what Heria suffered. There was an ironic symmetry about it all, as though this were laid on for the amusement of some scheming god. So be it. He would shoulder this grief along with the others.

'Ensign Baraz,' he said, 'fetch me the palace steward, if you please. Formio, get those notes off to the scribes and then rouse out the senior staff. We will all meet here in one hour. Felorin, secure the door.'

When only he and Golophin remained in the hall's vast emptiness, Corfe leant his forehead against the hot stone of the mantel.

'Golophin, how did she die?'

The old mage was startled. He seemed to take a moment to comprehend the question. 'The Merduk Queen? A knife, Shahr Baraz told me. There were maids close by, but they heard nothing. So he says.'

Corfe's tears fell invisibly into the flames below, to vanish with not so much as a hiss to note their passing.

'Sire - Corfe - is there something else the matter?'

'This is my wedding night,' the King said mechanically. 'I have a new wife waiting for me.'

Golophin set a hand on his arm. 'Perhaps you should return to her for a little while, before she hears the news from someone else.'

Dear God, he had almost forgotten. He raised his head with a kind of dulled wonder. 'You are right. She should hear it from me. But I must talk to Cullen first.'

'Here then. Have a swallow of this.' The wizard was offering him a small steel flask. He took it automatically and tipped it to his mouth. Fimbrian brandy. His eyes smarted and ran as he filled his mouth with it and swallowed it down.

'I always keep a mote of something warming about me,'

Golophin said, drinking in his rum. 'Nothing else seems to keep out the cold these days.'

Corfe looked at him. The mage was regarding him with a kindly surmise, as though inviting him to speak. For a moment it was all there, crowding on his tongue, and it would have been a blessed relief to let it gush forth, to lean on this old man as other kings had before him. But he bit back the words and swallowed them. It was enough that Albrec alone knew. He could take no sympathy tonight. It would break him. And others would need sympathy ere the night was done.

Footsteps the length of the hall, and Baraz was returning with the grizzled old palace steward. Corfe drew himself up.

'Cullen, you must have the Princess Mirren woken at once. She is to pack for a long journey. Have the stables harness up a dozen light wagons, enough for a suitable entourage. Ensign Baraz, you will, with my authority, pick out a tercio of cuirassiers as escort.'

'Where shall I tell the Princess she is going, sire?' Cullen asked, somewhat bewildered.

'She is going to Aurungabar to be married. I will see her before she goes, but she must be ready to leave by daybreak. That is all.'

The steward stood irresolute for a second, his mouth opening and closing. Then he bowed and left hurriedly, drawing his night robes closer about him as if the King exuded some baleful chill. Baraz followed him unhappily.

A blessed quiet for a few minutes. Corfe felt an overwhelming urge to go down to the stables, saddle up a horse, and take off alone for the mountains. To run away from this world and its decisions, its complications, its pain. He sighed and drew himself up. His bad leg was aching.

'You had best stay here,' he said to Golophin. 'I will be back soon.' Then he set off to tell his new wife that she was an orphan.

The troop transports took up four miles of river-frontage. There were over a hundred of the wide-beamed, shallow-draught vessels, each capable of carrying five tercios within its cavernous hold. They had been taking on their cargoes for two days now, and still the wharves of Torunn's waterfront were thronged with men and horses and mules and mountains of provisions and equipment. A dozen horses had been lost, and several tons of supplies, but the worst of the embarkation was over now and the transports would unmoor with the ebb of the evening tide in the estuary, and would begin their slow but sure battle upstream against the current of the Torrin river.

'The day has come at last,' Formio said with forced lightness.

'Yes. At one time I thought it never would.' Corfe tugged at the hem of his armoured gauntlets. 'I'm leaving you three thousand of the regulars,' he told Formio. 'Along with the conscripts, that will give you a sizeable garrison. With Aras and Heyd at Gaderion, and Melf and Berza in the south, they should not even have to see battle.'

'We will miss those Merduk reinforcements ere we're done,' Formio said gravely.

'Yes. They would have eased my mind too. But there's no use crying after them now. Formio, I have been over all the paperwork with Albrec. As soon as I step aboard the transports you become regent, and will remain so until I return. I've detached a few hundred of your Orphans to take over the training from the Bodyguard. The rest are already boarded.'