Shapers of Darkness (34 page)

But it wasn’t the rammings that stood out in Renald’s memory, the descriptions of rending wood and the ghostlike groan
of a hull taking on too much water. No, it was the combat that followed the collisions. The boardings and bloody sword battles as the warriors aboard those ships clashed, fighting for control of the vessel that remained seaworthy.

He could still hear the voice of one old sailor—a grizzled old man with leathery brown skin and a misshapen stump where his left arm should have been—asking his companions how many soldiers had been swallowed by the dark waters of the bay during that last war, and laughing at what he saw on Renald’s face. Even as a foolish child, easily impressed and more easily frightened, Renald had known that this man could not have fought in the Empire Wars, and later he had come to wonder how much of what those men told him that day had been true, and how much of it had been the blustering yarns of old sailors eager to scare a court boy. Still, watching this new battle in the cold Galdasten rain, Renald thought he could see bodies falling over the sides of the Eibitharian vessel, lost forever to Amon’s waters.

The fleets of the two realms had been arrayed against each other for several days, their commanders waiting far longer than Renald had ever guessed they would to begin the war. It almost seemed that both sides were awaiting some sign that they should attack. That sign had finally come this morning, and much to the duke’s surprise, it had been the Eibitharian fleet that made the first move. Renald couldn’t be certain, but he thought it likely that the rain and wind prompted the attack. On open waters, in calm weather, Eibithar’s ships had little chance against Braedon’s larger fleet and more skilled seamen. Perhaps the captains of Eibithar’s vessels thought that this storm would mitigate the empire’s advantages somewhat.

Already it seemed clear to the duke that they had been tragically mistaken. In the span of only a few heartbeats, two more of Eibithar’s ships were rammed, and now he was certain that he could see soldiers dressed in the gold and red of Braedon swarming onto the stricken vessels. It would be a slaughter.

“My lord!”

Renald started so violently that he nearly lost his balance.
He hadn’t heard Ewan Traylee’s approach for the rain and the keening wind. “What is it, swordmaster?”

“Forgive me for disturbing you, my lord, but the duchess is asking after you, and no one knew where you were.”

“Well as you can see, I’m right here,” he said, staring out at the ships again. “And I’ve no desire to speak with the duchess just now.” It wasn’t a tone he would usually have taken with Ewan. Damn this rain. Damn the empire.

“Yes, my lord.” The swordmaster looked out at the bay as well. An instant later, his voice rising again, he said, “They’ve begun!”

“Yes. Just a short time ago.”

“It’s going poorly.”

Renald glanced at the man. Rain plastered his black hair to his brow, and ran down his broad face before being lost in his beard. “Did you doubt that it would?”

“Not really, my lord. But I had hoped . . .” He shrugged, his gaze fixed on the battle.

“Is all ready for a siege?”

“Yes, my lord. We can withstand whatever the emperor’s soldiers throw at us.”

“Very good, Ewan.”

They stood in silence for several moments watching the ships dance. For a time it seemed that Eibithar’s vessels might actually be gaining the upper hand. No more Eibitharian ships had been rammed, and in fact they managed to incapacitate two Braedon ships in quick succession. But their success was short-lived, and it soon became clear that the empire’s vessels were simply too swift. What had started as a battle was fast turning into a pursuit. Eibithar’s ships were no longer looking for openings to attack, but were instead doing all they could to avoid being shattered and boarded.

“Do you think the king sent word to Wethyrn?” Ewan asked after some time.

“He would have been a fool not to. Wethyrn’s ships are the only ones in the seven that would stand a chance against the empire’s fleet.”

“Then perhaps there’s hope yet.”

“Not unless they arrive today. Now that this battle has begun, it won’t last long.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He should have been pleased. Certainly that was what Elspeth would tell him. Soon Kearney’s guard would be routed by the empire’s men, and when the army of Galdasten joined the war, turning the tide for Eibithar, the throne would be his. Still, he couldn’t help thinking that he had betrayed his forebears, his people, and his kingdom. What if Kearney had been telling the truth? What if the conspiracy was behind the murder of Lady Brienne of Kentigern? What if Tavis of Curgh was not a butcher, but rather a victim of white-hair treachery? Then wasn’t Renald himself helping the renegades? Wasn’t his refusal to fight the invaders tantamount to treason?

“You say the duchess wishes to speak with me?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Do you know what she wants?”

Ewan grimaced. It took Renald a moment to realize that he was actually grinning. “The duchess rarely tells me anything, my lord.” He looked like he might say more, but then he merely shrugged and faced the bay again.

“It’s not you, Ewan. She’s like that with everyone.”
She knows that she’s smarter than all of us, and it galls her that she doesn’t lead this house
.

“Yes, my lord. Thank you.”

Renald’s hands had grown numb gripping the stone ramparts. He wanted nothing more than to return to his chambers where he might change into some dry clothes and sit before his hearth. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the ships.

“I’ll keep watch for you, my lord. If something changes, or—” he swallowed, “or if it ends, I’ll let you know first thing.”

What would his father have said? The lords of Galdasten had long envied the supremacy of the House of Thorald. For more than one hundred years now, there had been no measurable difference between the size of Thorald’s army and that of Galdasten, between the riches in Thorald’s treasury and those in Galdasten’s. Yet, by dint of the Order of Ascension, determined
hundreds of years ago, Thorald was the highest ranking house in the land, and Galdasten second. Over the course of Eibithar’s history, Thorald kings outnumbered those from Renald’s house by nearly three to one. Yet in all that time, no duke of Galdasten had ever led a rebellion against the Rules. True, no duke of Galdasten had ever faced the bleak future that awaited Renald and his sons.

But did that give him just cause to defy the Rules? He could hear Elspeth’s reply.
Hasn’t Galdasten suffered long enough under Thorald’s dominance? Don’t the other realms of Eibithar deserve to be freed from a supremacy that has no basis in fact?

You are weakening the realm to nurture your own ambitions
. His father’s voice. And once again it was countered in his mind by Elspeth’s, just as reasoned, and far more strident.
You do this for our sons, so that they might fulfill their destiny and rule this land
.

“My lord?” Ewan said, interrupting the colloquy in his mind.

“Yes, swordmaster, thank you. I would be grateful for a warm cup of tea and a fire.”

“Go, my lord. I’ll keep you apprised of all that happens.”

Renald nodded, but stood there a moment longer, watching the ships, searching for some shift in the course of the battle, some sign that Eibithar’s fleet might still prevail. Seeing none, he finally left the tower, descending the winding stairs to the lower corridor, and making his way from there to his bedchamber. Even the cold stone of the castle passages seemed pleasant after the wind and rain. His chamber was bright and warm, and as comfortable as a child’s blanket. He stripped out of his wet clothes and a servant helped him into a dry robe. He was just tying it when he heard a knock at his door. Before he could call a response, Elspeth let herself into the chamber, looking lovely and formidable in a dark violet dress, her brown hair tied back from her face and her eyes glittering with the lamplight.

Her gaze flicked about the chamber, coming to rest briefly on the servant before returning to Renald’s face. “I summoned you some time ago. Where have you been?”

He wanted to rail at her for speaking to him so. He should at least have demanded an apology. It was one thing to use such a tone with her duke when they were alone, but to do so in front of others, even a common servant, was unacceptable. But it was all he could do just to say, as if a boy offering excuses to an irate parent, “I was on the tower. The war’s started.”

Her entire bearing changed. She took a step toward him, eager, a fierce smile on her flawless face. “They’ve started? You saw them fighting?”

Renald nodded.

“What’s happening? Can you tell how the fleet is faring?”

“Not well. They’ve already lost several ships, and were on the verge of losing more when I left the tower.”

She opened her mouth to say something else, then stopped, glaring at the servant. “Leave us!”

The boy nearly jumped to obey, scurrying from the room with a quick backward glance.

“You think it will end quickly?” she asked when the boy was gone, avid and dazzling, her color high.

“I fear it will.” He winced at his choice of words, hoping she wouldn’t notice.

Little chance of that.

“You fear it will?” she repeated, the smile vanishing.

“I only meant that I wish so many didn’t have to die.”

“It’s war, you fool. Of course they have to die. Eventually you’ll have to lead men to kill and be killed. You’ll have to raise your sword as well, or fall in battle. You are prepared to do all that, aren’t you, Renald?”

“Yes, of course—”

“Because if you’re not, you’d best say so now. There still may be time to salvage something from this mess you’ve created.”

“I’m prepared to do whatever I must to take the crown, Elspeth. I’ve told Ewan to prepare the castle for a siege. Even if I wanted to meet the emperor’s army on the strand, it’s too late now. I’ve chosen my path and I’ll travel it as far as it will take me.”

“Good, Renald. Very good.” She began to circle the room,
like a wolf stalking her prey. “What does Ewan think of all this? He can’t be happy about it.”

“I’ve told you before: Ewan is a good soldier. He’ll do as he’s told. I’ve made it clear to him that I intend to be king, and that he has only to follow me and soon enough he’ll be commander of the King’s Guard. I’m sure that he laments the loss of life as I do.” He paused, eyeing her briefly. “As we all do. But he understands that some sacrifices must be made if we’re to rid ourselves of both the invaders from Braedon and the usurpers from Glyndwr and Curgh.”

She continued to roam the chamber, passing just behind him, her shoulder brushing his back and her scent, lavender and woodbine, filling him, intoxicating him. He closed his eyes for just an instant, inhaling deeply.

“The usurpers,” she said, her voice low. “I like that. Did you think of it yourself?”

“Actually, I did.”

“What if the emperor’s men besiege the castle? What if it’s Kearney who must come to our aid, rather than us to his?”

Renald shook his head. “I don’t think that will happen. This is an invasion. A prolonged siege here gains them nothing. Even if they were to prevail—not that they will—but even if they were to, they would only succeed in giving Kearney time to marshal his forces. They need to strike quickly at the heart of the realm. They need to destroy the King’s Guard. If they can do that, the houses will fall in turn. At least, that’s what the emperor’s commanders will think.”

“You reasoned this out as well?”

“Yes. Ewan agrees with me,” he added quickly, lest she think him overly confident.

But Elspeth smiled at him, a radiant smile, seemingly free of irony or scorn. It had been years since he last saw a smile like this one on her face. She had circled close again. The air around them was redolent. “I agree with you, too.” She stopped behind him, slipping her arms beneath his and resting her cheek against his back. “You’ve been watching Pillad, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” he whispered. He felt the beginning of an erection
pressing against his robe, and he prayed that she wouldn’t notice. “I have men watching all the Qirsi, the first minister in particular. He spends a good deal of time in the city, drinking alone at a tavern there. But he never speaks with anyone, and aside from the ale, he never spends any gold.”

She reached a hand inside his robe and began to rub his chest gently. It had been so long since she’d touched him like this. “Still, I wouldn’t trust him with anything of importance. Not now, not when we’re so close.”

Renald closed his eyes. “Of course,” he said. In a far corner of his mind he thought,
If I’d known she’d respond like this, I’d have led a rebellion years ago
. He nearly laughed aloud.

A moment later she stepped around to stand before him. Glancing down, seeing the bulge at the front of his robe, she smiled again, though not with her usual cruelty. Still smiling, looking into his eyes once more, she reached down to untie the sash.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked, and then instantly regretted the question.

But she merely gazed at him placidly. “I told you some time ago, Renald, if you were to lead this war as would a king, you could have me again.” She reached within his robe and gently took hold of him. “I’m a woman of my word.”

She withdrew her hand and began to unfasten the buttons that ran down the length of her dress.

Renald touched her hands with his own, stopping her. “May I?” he asked, something in his voice reminding him once more of a child.

Elspeth’s eyes were luminous as she led him to the bed. “Of course.”

The White Wave was nearly empty, as it usually was so early in the day. Pillad was already on his third ale, and the darkness that seemed to come with all drink in recent days was already upon him. He no longer bought the ale that was made here in Galdasten, though it was fine enough for most. He preferred the light brew from Thorald, the finest in the land. And
since he had gold enough to afford whatever ale he wanted, he didn’t think twice about drinking it. True, there might have been some danger in flaunting his newly acquired taste for Thorald’s golden. With rumors of the conspiracy running rampant through the realm, and Braedon warships poised off the coast, any Qirsi spending too much of his or her wage was suspect in the eyes of Ean’s children. Even his Qirsi masters would not have approved, seeing in his recklessness a threat to their movement, to their very lives.