“It’s the storms,” Nikandr said. “You’ll find him when they die down.”
“I know.” She smiled, an unconvincing gesture, and then motioned back the way they’d come. “Please.”
She took Nikandr down to the ground floor to a location in Galostina that was one of the earliest structures built. The original keep-which had over the centuries been absorbed by the larger palotza-was being used as the headquarters for the war. The room was windowless-the original windows having long since been bricked up. At the center of the room, surrounded by a dozen massive brass lanterns on tall stands, was a table with several men standing at it, all of them looking down at the maps arrayed there. Nikandr recognized Andreya Antonov, the polkovnik of Vostroma’s stremya, and Betyom Nikolov Vostroma, Zhabyn’s cousin and the admiral of the staaya. Duke Leonid of Dhalingrad was there as well, and when he realized Nikandr was approaching, he motioned to Andreya, who nodded toward his men. Most of the gathered men left the table, though not before they’d stared at Nikandr as if he were a deserter, and soon Nikandr was alone with Andreya, Betyom, and Leonid.
“I will leave you to it,” Mileva said, smiling and bowing her head before taking her leave as well.
“Well met,” Duke Leonid said to Nikandr. Leonid’s long white beard fell down his black kaftan. With his dark eyes, it made him look wild, a wolf in goat’s clothing. His expression was wholly uncharitable, which gave Nikandr pause. He had thought his presence here might be looked upon with some relief, but now he could see that at least for these men, who had always been loyal to Zhabyn, that wouldn’t be the case.
“My Lord Duke,” Nikandr said. He turned to Andreya, all but ignoring Dhalingrad. “I come bearing news.”
Andreya was a tall man. He was Father’s age, but he looked as fit as Nikandr. His trim beard was gray, darker near his jowls. His hair was lost beneath the fur cap he wore. “When have you last slept?”
Nikandr shook his head, unable to remember. “It’s been days.”
Andreya paused before speaking again. “The ships sent from Khalakovo arrived well ahead of you, My Lord Prince.”
“I was diverted to Elykstava-”
“Diverted,” Leonid scoffed, “with three of our ships.”
Duke Konstantin of Bolgravya reached the table. He bowed his head to Nikandr. It was an awkward gesture, more so than the other men, no doubt because of the history Nikandr had with his family, Grigory in particular. He said nothing, content for the moment to listen as the others questioned Nikandr.
“It seemed important,” Nikandr said carefully, “to determine the state of her spire.”
Andreya stared intently into Nikandr’s eyes, his expression stark and serious though not unkind. “When you had been given orders to come to Kiravashya.”
“Forgive me, Polkovnik, but the ships were mine to command.”
Duke Leonid bristled. “Those ships were needed here, Khalakovo, a fact I’m sure the Duke of Khalakovo shared with you before you left.”
“My Father, the Duke, lies upstairs.”
“He is the duke no longer,” Leonid said.
“A mongrel might leap upon the throne, Dhalingrad. Would you call him duke if you came across him lying there?”
The potbellied Betyom looked on this exchange in silent acceptance, but Konstantin jumped in. “My Lord Duke. My Lord Prince. Please, we shouldn’t waste time bickering. We don’t know when Yrstanla will return.”
“Very well,” Leonid said slowly, as if he were humoring Konstantin, who was twenty years his junior. “What news from Elykstava?”
“We captured a kapitan of one of the ships that attacked the spire. He confessed that their admiral was worried over an attack on the Spar. He recommended they not overcommit their ships, but the Kamarisi would not allow anything other than a full attack.”
“What of it?” Betyom asked.
“They’re overextended, admiral. If we can destroy the bridge, we can cut off any hope of reinforcements arriving.”
“This is senseless,” Leonid said, motioning to the map before him. “Their ships are here. What good would destroying the Spar do now?”
“Reinforcements could still be moving toward Galahesh, and it would cut off their lines of supply and their route of escape.”
Leonid frowned. “We need not worry about their escape, Khalakovo. We need to save Galostina and her spire, not the spire on Elykstava, which we had already decided to give them if they chose to take it, nor the spires on other, nearby islands, nor a bridge a thousand leagues from where we stand. Galostina’s spire. That is all that matters, and you’ve lost us three ships in her defense.”
“I would not give up the spires so easily,” Nikandr said. “They lost three ships on Elykstava as well, and we found critical information. If we could send ships, we might stand a good chance of taking the Spar.”
“We have no ships to spare,” Andreya said.
“I would need only five or six-”
Andreya’s flat look made Nikandr stop. “Have you come to serve,” he said, “or have you come to dictate?”
Nikandr looked at each of the men in turn, who looked at him as if he were a raw strelet who had yet to learn the ways of the wind. He had hoped that they might be convinced, but now he saw that they never would be. They might trust him to fly a ship, but beyond this they trusted him not at all.
“I’ve come to deliver vital information, and to serve in a way that helps the Grand Duchy.”
Andreya stood taller. “With the Grand Duke gone, I decide what helps the Grand Duchy.”
“ Nyet, Polkovnik.” Nikandr couldn’t help but think of the proclamation that Borund had read in Radiskoye. He had stepped over a line by saying these words, but he was done with hiding from men who sought to control him, a prince of the Grand Duchy. “With my father unconscious and my brother out of reach, I am Khalakovo.”
Duke Leonid looked as if he wanted to spit at Nikandr’s feet, but Andreya seemed to be weighing his words carefully. His eyes were not angry-there might even be a touch of respect in them-but it was also clear that if it came to it, Nikandr’s claim to authority or not, he would take from Khalakovo the resources he needed. “I understand that you hope to protect us, My Lord Prince. But you fail to understand the situation. Yrstanla has retreated, most likely to weather the storm they’ve unleashed. But have no doubt-the moment the storm abates, they will return for the spire, and when they do, it will be all we can do to stop them. We have need of men like you, men who can command a ship and command a wing. I cannot afford to have you missing from the coming battle.”
“We might save the island only to lose the Grand Duchy.”
“Just now, My Lord Prince, Kiravashya is the Grand Duchy. Now leave. Think on what I’ve said.” He returned his attention to the maps before him. “And find some sleep. You look terrible.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
N ikandr woke in the chair sitting next to his father’s bed. The room was dark. Only the smallest amount of light came from the crescent moon through the high window. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes he realized he’d slept through the entire day.
He was ravenous, but he didn’t want to leave his father. Not just yet. He’d barely had any time with him before he’d fallen asleep.
He lit the small lamp at the bedside and for a time simply stared as his father’s chest rose and fell slowly. He looked old. He looked weary and white, as if he’d already begun taking small but unyielding steps toward the beyond. Nikandr was proud of him, though. He’d been brought to Vostroma little more than a thrall, but as his counsel had proven more and more invaluable, he’d risen in Zhabyn’s circle, even among the misgivings of men like Leonid Dhalingrad, to become the Grand Duke’s most trusted advisor.
He felt bad for Mother, who despite spending nearly all of her time in the aether had come to cherish her time with Father outside of it.
Still, they were born of the islands; they were hard, and they spent time with one another as they could, speaking when Mother took the form of one of Galostina’s rooks. Though her ban from using the aether had never formally been lifted, it had eased to the point that two years after the ritual of Oshtoyets, Nikandr had brought Yrfa here to Galostina so that Mother could assume her favorite bird to speak with Father.