She was wearing a clean tunic-man's clothing, but there was no doubt at all about the gender of the body within it. A garland of white-and-purple flowers crowned the long auburn curls that fell past her shoulders; it was hard to remember her turning the billhook meant for him, bathed in blood. . And fairly easy, too. All the gods witness, I was terrified. Not half as terrified as he'd been challenging Sawtre, of course.
Adrian cleared his throat, glad of the night dimness. A voice drifted up the stairwell, followed by a tremendous shout of laughter, and then the jaunty notes of a kordax on the lyre. A line of torch-bearing men stamped out into the courtyard of this building, mostly leaning on their companions-women of the town, or boys in a few instances-and began weaving in a chain dance around the fountain and back into the hall. They were singing something, something with his name in it, but between distance, drink and the blur of voices far from used to singing in unison, he couldn't make it out.
Interesting, Adrian thought with a distant scholar's part of his mind. He'd never actually seen a victory komos before, although the old epics were full of them. This wasn't much like the descriptions the poets gave; they left out the bits about men who stopped to throw up, or just fell down paralytically drunk.
I suspect that this is more like what they were really like, even in the War of the Thousand Ships, he mused.
"Ah, um." Oh, Gellerix, that's lame, he thought and found his voice. "I'm definitely not going to force myself on you, Freewoman Helga," he said.
Helga smiled. "That's extremely gentlemanly of you," she said, with a polite nod and toss of her head. It wouldn't have been out of place at a dinner party at Audsley's house in Vanbert, except that most of his wife's acquaintances didn't have that much style. "But I assure you that force isn't required."
"Ah, um." Oh, Gellerix. "Ah, you really don't have to feel any sense of obligation, Freewoman Helga," he managed to choke out.
"You do like women, don't you, Adrian?"
Adrian felt a chuckle rising at her expression of sudden worry. "Well, yes. Don't believe everything you hear about Emeralds, my-ummmph."
"You're exactly the right height," Helga said as she broke the kiss. "Two and one-half inches taller than me. . Look, Adrian, I'm not a virgin, my marital prospects are crap anyway, I've been locked up with sixty women for a year and I don't like girls. . and I do like you. You're a fascinating man. You're also not someone my father picked, either-I like you, I said." Her smile grew. "Am I making myself clear?"
"Abundantly," he said, and scooped her up with an arm under the shoulders and another under the knees.
SEVEN
"Preble," King Casull said.
His pointer tapped down on the map table. The greatbeast hide there showed an island covered in buildings, shaped like a peach pit with a stretch of blue water down the middle. Puff-cheeked wind spirits were drawn to represent the prevailing winds, and a line eastward showed the mainland coast. A few men stood around it: his heir, Tenny; Esmond; Adrian; and the Grand Admiral of the Isles, a half-brother of Casull who'd supported him in his thrust for the crown and had no sons of his own. A cooling evening breeze blew curtains aside to reveal the harbor of Chalice, crammed with shipping, a tarry reek penetrating even this far above the harbor. It was growing dark, but a flicker of red showed on the underside of the clouds that hung in the deep-purple sky-reflection of the lava in the craters above the city.
"We held Preble under my predecessor, Casull III, may his spirit rest with the Sun God," Casull went on. "Justiciar Marcomann took it away from us, along with the old mainland possessions of the Kings of the Isles. It's barely half a mile from shore-you can see the old city, Sor, here-but it's a magnificent naval base and does a heavy trade. According to my spies, who are many there, there's only a small Confed garrison there, barely a battalion."
Silence fell around the table. The Crown Prince cleared his throat. "A strong party loyal to the Kings of the Isles has risen in Preble," he said. "They have extended an invitation to me, to come and free them from the tyrants of the mainland, and then to rule them as men are meant to be ruled."
"And not to pay the Confed tribute anymore," Casull added. "It's heavy; they don't really understand sea trade. . farmers, really."
Adrian nodded in unison with Esmond . No doubt a little gold from Chalice was spread around to get that Royalist party going, Raj said. But yes, on the whole, it looks like a good opportunity to test the Confeds.
probability of initial success is 77 %, ±10, Center interjected. high degree of uncertainty indicates several factors, principally-
We'll discuss that later, Adrian thought firmly. Aloud: "My lord King, perhaps we can take Preble," he said. "Can we hold it?"
Tenny's lower lip stuck out slightly. Adrian cursed himself silently; he should have framed that a little more tactfully. Casull nodded.
"That is the question," he said. "Normally, no. The island is too close to the mainland, to the Confed armies, and to their fleet. The fleet's laid up in ordinary"-meaning stripped and hauled up in boat-sheds-"but they can put it to sea fairly quickly."
"As sailors, they'd make good cowherds," Tenny observed. His father frowned.
"True, but don't underestimate their numbers, or their discipline, or the way their infantry fights once they get on your deck-previous Kings of the Isles have done that, to their cost." Casull III, for instance, had paid with his life for doing exactly that. "With 'zieur Adrian's new weapons, we may have a chance of holding it."
Adrian traced the narrow strait with a finger. "What's the depth, here, my lord King?"
"Ah, you see the problem. Shallow-full of shifting sandbars. Impossible to interdict with warships, but fine for shallow-draft barges carrying assault troops."
"They might try a causeway, then," Adrian said thoughtfully. "If they could round up enough peasants to dig."
Casull winced slightly. "That would be even worse. Damn them, they're always trying to turn sea into land."
"By the Lord of the Trident, they'll regret it this time," Esmond said confidently. "Most of Adrian's new weapons have the range to turn the straits into hell for them."
"So we'll put them into the hands of the Shades." Tenny chuckled, licking his lips. "And I will be King in Preble."
"Under me," Casull added dryly, and the Prince looked down. Patricide was an ancient tradition in the Isles. "By sending you, my son, I assure the men of Preble that they are to be free subjects, not a possession to be squeezed."
"What about the city militia?" Esmond said. "There ought to be. . what, eight, ten thousand of them? In a city that size."
Casull nodded. "They will not be involved initially," he said. "Not if our plan goes as expected. Then they will have no choice but to fall in with us, and fight for us."
"Certainly, if the Confed thinks they were disloyal," Esmond said. "I take it, my lord, that the Strikers are to be the spearhead of this enterprise?" He bowed to Tenny. "Under your valiant son's direction."
"Of course," Casull beamed. "And your brother will be with you, to see to the emplacement of the new weapons to defend our new city. We will follow with the fleet."
The two Emeralds smiled and bowed to the King of the Isles. Adrian needed no voices from beyond the world to know exactly what the King was thinking: if the throw of the dice failed, he was out only one replaceable son and some Emerald mercenaries; if it succeeded, he had one of the richest cities in the Western Sea.