Storm and Steel (34 page)

Horace sat up with a start as a heavy hand knocked at his door. He had the vague sense they had been knocking for several seconds before he heard it. “Yes! One moment, please.”

His mouth was dry, as if he'd been sleeping with it open. His sword was digging into his side. Wiping his lips with the back of a hand to make sure there was no drool, he answered the door.

Mezim stood outside with the bodyguards. And not just the four men Horace had selected for his escort. The corridor outside his door was filled with at least thirty men-at-arms, all standing at strict attention.

Mezim peeked inside the room as if expecting to see someone else. “It is time for your dinner engagement. May I enter?”

Horace nodded, and his secretary swept inside, closing the door behind him. “Why are there so many soldiers out there?” Horace asked.

“Governor Arakhu assigned them to your personal detail, Master. Judging by his behavior, I would guess the governor is extremely concerned for your well-being.”

Horace didn't like the way that sounded, but he supposed he couldn't insult his host by refusing the extra protection. Mezim got to work. In seconds, he had Horace's luggage open and selected a fresh tunic of green silk.

“Who are we going to see again?” Horace asked. His mind was still a little fuzzy. He couldn't believe he'd fallen asleep.

“The governor and several members of the town council.” Mezim made several swipes at Horace's hair with a comb before giving up. “They await you downstairs.”

“Fine, fine.”

Horace followed Mezim out into the corridor, the guardsmen falling in behind them. The tromp of their nailed boots reverberated off the walls.

“I have the latest figures and analysis of the town, Master,” Mezim said as they turned a corner.

“Can you boil it down to the basics?”

Mezim paged through a sheaf of papers from his valise. “In short, Sekhatun is not adequately prepared for a protracted siege. The walls encircle the entire town, but they are old and not in the best repair. There are numerous places where an enemy with the right equipment—catapults and the like—could make a breach with relative ease.”

“How did you discover that?”

“I spoke with an engineer with the royal garrison, Master.”

“All right. How does the garrison look?”

“Not good, I'm afraid. There aren't enough soldiers to man the entire length of the walls. Even if citizens are conscripted, the armories don't have enough weapons or armor to equip them.”

Horace didn't like the news, but he supposed it could be worse. “Is that all?”

“Not quite, Master. Although the region is bountiful, not enough stores have been put aside. My estimate of the current supply is that the town could feed itself for one week. Possibly two if stringent methods are applied, although that brings the added risk of poor nutrition, which would likely breed illness among the population. Which would—”

Horace put up a hand to stop him. “I understand. Is there any good news?”

Mezim shuffled a bit more. “Well, there haven't been any reports of brigandage on the river, so we still have a reliable route of resupply and, if necessary, escape.”

Escape. Why bother? If I fail here, Byleth will have my head. Unless I could grab a boat headed west to the coast. No, I'd never make it. The queen would catch me in that flying ship, as sure as the sun rises tomorrow.

As much as he wanted to deny it, Alyra's words had pricked his conscience. He could not order the slaughter of the slaves. However, the queen's life balanced on the edge of a precipice, and she could be deposed if the rebellion continued much longer.
Why am I stuck in the middle of this mess? I hate
politics and I've no training in warfare. Yet here I am, in charge of the defense of an entire town. And if I fail, it's more than just my head. A lot of people are going to die.

“And there is this, Master.”

Mezim showed him a notation on an inventory of the town's resources.

“All right,” Horace said. “I want you to gather the officers from the garrison and the local militia, and our men as well. We're going to have a meeting tonight. We'll draw up a plan and put it into action.”

“I think I know just the place. Do you require my attendance for dinner?”

“No. Go take care of that. Oh, and send a message to the river master, or whatever they call the person in charge of the docks. I want all incoming and outgoing vessels searched, starting now.”

The secretary hurried away, and Horace continued on his way to dinner. He wasn't looking forward to this meal. There was too much going on in his head for him to focus while being entertained by strangers. He wished he could think of a way to bow out, but then he was ushered into a huge dining chamber.

Twenty-foot-high pillars supported a vast domed ceiling, its smooth underside painted sky-blue with a golden sun at the center. The chamber's enormity was underscored by the small, almost intimate, table set up in the middle of the floor. Three men stood beside the table with drinks in their hands. One was Governor Arakhu, who turned with a broad smile as Horace entered. “Ah, our honored guest has arrived!
Dam parasut, Belum.
”

Horace returned the greeting with all the cordiality he could muster, and the governor in turn introduced the others to him. “First Sword, I present to you Elder Damuggah, one of Sekhatun's most celebrated and beloved leaders, and a family friend.”

The elder was a tiny man. At least sixty years old, he had a hunched frame and walked with a polished cane. His skin was like aged parchment, wrinkled and sagging. He smiled as he bowed his head, revealing rows of brown teeth.

The governor gestured to the other man, who was quite a bit younger, probably in his late thirties. He stood a couple inches taller than Horace, with the rugged build of a professional soldier. His head was shaved bald except for a single lock of hair plaited at the nape of his neck. “And this is
Kapikul
Shu Tural, the commander of the royal garrison.”

The commander bowed with one hand over his chest. “
Sobhe'etu, Belum
.”

Horace nodded to both men as they were seated at the table. Slaves entered the chamber with carafes of wine and platters of olives, dates, and sliced goat cheese. Seated at the governor's right hand, Horace was given the full treatment of an honored guest. Arakhu served him first, pouring the wine with his own hands, and the slaves started each course with him.

“I have heard,” Elder Damuggah said as he lifted his wine glass, “that you are from the city of Avice, First Sword.”

Horace wiped his mouth with a silk napkin as he nodded. “
Ai
, Elder. Although I'm originally from Tines, which is a smaller port.”

“Ah, and how do you find Erugash, compared to these great cities of the west?”

“In truth, sir, I think Erugash is a magnificent city. Antiquity oozes from its bricks and stones, staggering my imagination with all the great artisans and scholars who have dwelt inside its walls over the centuries. We certainly don't have that intimacy with living history in Arnos.”

The elder chuckled, sounding like an owl hooting, as he tapped the table with two fingers. “‘Intimacy with living history.' How well-spoken! I did not know the First Sword was a poet as well as a mighty warrior.”

“Well, I wouldn't say I am much of either. I spent most of my life building and maintaining ships. Working with my hands and whatnot. But I've had very good teachers since Her Excellence took me under her wing.”

Governor Arakhu smiled. “I understand the First Sword has his own…unique…manner of addressing Her Majesty the queen, may she grace us with her heavenly light for a hundred thousand years.”

The elder's eyebrows rose. Just a fraction of an inch, but Horace caught it.
He thinks I'm sleeping with the queen. And he's probably not alone.

Trying to ignore the insinuation, Horace changed the subject. “I've been sent to protect Sekhatun, which may soon be the target of a rebel attack. I'm glad the
kapikul
is here, because I have a few ideas about how we can shore up the defenses.”

Governor Arakhu said, “We would all be interested in learning your plans.”

“First off, the walls need to be repaired. From what I understand, there are some weak points.”

Elder Damuggah shook his head. “They are in a poor state, but we don't have the stone to repair them properly. And even if we did, the masons' guild refuses to negotiate an equitable price.”

Governor Arakhu nodded. “This is true. There are no local quarries worth mentioning. I have sent many requests to Erugash, but there has been no reply.”

“Are you saying someone in the royal court has been obstructing your requests?” Horace asked.

“Of course not,
Belum
.” Governor Arakhu shook his head with emphasis. “We would never disparage Her Majesty's trusted advisers in such a base way.”

“Never,” Elder Damuggah chimed in. “But perhaps the governor's messages have not reached the proper eyes yet?”

“Well, what about using sorcery to rebuild the walls? A few
zoanii
working in shifts could do much.”

“Unfortunately, Sekhatun suffers a dearth of
zoanii
with the power necessary for such feats,” the governor said. His expression of regret was so sublime that Horace felt the urge to pat him on the back.

“All right. But the walls are only part of the problem.
Kapikul
, how many soldiers do you have?”

“Fifty-four. Including the officer staff.”

“And how many in the militia?”

“About sixty. Though they are of a decidedly lesser quality than the garrison troops. More suited to policing the streets than defending the walls.”

The servers returned with roasted duck on a bed of mushrooms. Horace leaned back as they loaded his plate. “Governor, we'll need to recruit more men. Five hundred, at least.”

“Five hundred!” Elder Damuggah shook his head. “Pardon me, but we cannot afford to feed and train that many soldiers. Not to mention the terrible burden a conscription of that size would place on our markets.”

“The markets?” Horace asked.

“
Ai, Belum
. Sekhatun is, above all, a center for trade. We produce goods
in ceramic, bronze, and tin, and trade them across the empire. And to foreign interests, too. If you take all our young men, who will continue our trades?”

“Not to mention the planting season will soon be upon us,” Governor Arakhu said. “If we don't start on time, we'll lose the entire harvest. Surely the queen does not wish to disrupt the flow of goods and services that Sekhatun provides.”

“What the queen wants,” Horace said, trying not to growl, “is for Sekhatun to survive. Trade will resume when the danger has passed.”

Elder Damuggah exchanged significant glances with the governor. The
kapikul
focused on the duck, chewing slowly.

Horace felt his jaws tighten as he ground his teeth. “Gentlemen, let me be perfectly clear. The threat of the rebellion is real. They do not care about your trade or your quarries. They want to bleed the empire any way they can. You need to prepare for battle before it arrives.”

Elder Damuggah nodded several times. “Of course, of course. But there must be a way to make preparations that do not disrupt the town so onerously, eh?”

All three men looked at Horace as if they were being perfectly reasonable. And perhaps they were, from their perspective. The threat of war must seem a distant prospect to those who had enjoyed peace and prosperity for so long. Yet he was here to stop an attack, not to make friends. “Sirs, tomorrow at dawn you will send forth these instructions, to be obeyed to the letter on pain of imprisonment. First, all able-bodied males will submit themselves to
Kapikul
Shu Tural to reinforce the garrison. Weapons and armor will be issued to them from the town armory.”

Horace endured their stares, which had turned cold as he spoke. “In addition, all goods and materials inside the town are hereby confiscated by the order of the queen.”

Elder Damuggah's eyes nearly popped of his withered skull at that, and the governor's mouth gaped open. Horace didn't give them a chance to object. “Those materials will be used by the town's craftsmen, all of whom are ordered to fashion shields, weapons, helmets, and whatever else the defense requires. Shu Tural, see my man after you finish dining. We're holding a meeting tonight with all the military officers, and I want you to be present.”

“As you command.”

Horace stood up, and the others did as well, each of them bowing to him in turn. He returned their obeisance with a firm nod before he left the chamber. His guards took up position behind him as he walked through the corridors, not really sure where he wanted to go.

He found Mezim in a wide hallway lined with marble pillars and beckoned him to follow. “Let's go for a walk.”

After a couple wrong turns, they found the ground-floor exit to the palace. Sentries thumped the butts of their pikes on the stone floor of the foyer as he departed, out into the grand square.

“Where do you wish to go, Master?”

Horace paused to take a look around. The plaza was mostly empty, with just a few trading booths still open. Pedestrians strolled amid the buyers and sellers. In the center of the square, a huge statue was half-finished. The artisans had completed the lower portion of a wide body, supported by four powerful legs like tree trunks, but he still had no idea what it was supposed to be.
Probably some demon or god from their myths.

“Let's just walk about,” he replied. “I want to get a better view of the town's layout.”

Without a clear destination in mind, Horace set off across the plaza heading west, and his retinue followed on his heels.

Everything looked different than before. The buildings were taller and more impressive than he remembered, with little flourishes in the architecture he hadn't noticed the last time he was here. Sekhatun was obviously a wealthy town. New construction mingled with the old in a pleasing manner that suggested growth and prosperity. The atmosphere was vibrant, with people in bright clothing greeting each other on the street and often stopping to banter. They seemed so friendly that Horace actually got a little homesick, wishing he knew some of these citizens so he could join their conversations, no doubt discussing family and friendships, the joys of life.