Irona 700 (37 page)

“I didn't get anybody into a mess,” Irona said crossly. “In less than two years I added three large and prosperous islands and a score of little ones to the Empire.”

“And started a war with the Three Kingdoms!”

“They began the killing and looting. I was sent here to stop it—and did so. If the king of kings has a hundred million men standing on the mainland, he still can't march them over the sea. And,” she shouted as Puchuldiza tried to interrupt, “if he was a king of kings of kings, he couldn't create a seaworthy fleet and a skilled crew for it in less than ten years. In all its history the Empire has never lost a sea battle to the Kingdoms.”

Podakan said, “Hear, hear!”

Dychat glared at him. “If there are no further questions for this witness …”

By nightfall it was all over, and Irona was called in to hear their decision. She was even allowed to read their warrant, which recalled Chosen Irona and named Seven Dychat her replacement as admiral, marshal, and acting governor. The other two commissioners were to investigate the situation and advise on future action.

They would decide that tomorrow, Dychat said. Meanwhile, she must haul down her flag and prepare to return to Benign in two days.

“They're pulling out,” Podakan said glumly.

He had wandered into Irona's bedroom when she was about to change for the formal dinner. She had shooed her maids away with orders to send in wine and tell Veer to stay out.

For once Podakan was not spoiling for a fight with her. He was glum and perhaps even in need of comforting. She could hardly believe it, but it seemed that she was about to have a confidential tête-à-tête with her hero son for the first time since he gave up sitting on her lap. The evening was relatively cool, with a scented breeze drifting in her windows. It brought sounds of drunken revelry from the streets, where marines were celebrating their recall.

“I thought that was to be decided tomorrow.”

“It was decided before we left. There was another motion passed, a secret motion. We were ordered to abandon your conquests unless the three of us voted otherwise unanimously. Which won't happen because Man Mountain Dychat has his orders from 692.”

She was impressed that her son had learned Chosen politics so quickly. She had always been inclined to underestimate Podakan. His deliberate rudeness made him seem like a lout, but it hid a ruthless cunning.

“What about the locals who have cooperated with us and accepted our promises not to abandon them?”

“Your promises, not ours.”

“So you'll be sending the ships back to their home ports?” When he nodded, she said, “What if the king of kings decides to use this fleet he's building?”

Her son laughed, which had always been rare, even when he was a child. “There's a coastguard flotilla based in Aoba. Dychat's been told to enlarge it, from eight ships to twenty-four, so it will preserve the border through the Gulf of Berutarube. They're idiots, Dam, idiots! They think that wishing makes it so.”

“The king of kings will take control of the seas and the Empire will burn.”

“Of course.” He spoke glumly, but when he looked up at her, she saw fury burning deep in his eyes.

“What would you do, if you were in charge?”

“Sink his fucking fleet before it knows what it's doing.”

That would be her own inclination. After a moment, she said, “But Dychat is in charge.”

“Ledacos was when his orders were written.” Podakan drained his goblet and reached for the flask to refill it. “Stupid, stupid, stupid! They think they can end a fight by running away from it. You want to sail on the same ship as me?”

“I'd love to. We can have some time together.”

“Too much, I'm sure. I rowed straight watches coming here, but Killer Dychat says I mustn't row if I'm in charge. He's going to make me rear admiral to see the fleet home.”

“He has to give you some sort of a title, otherwise Puchuldiza and I would both outrank you. Even Dychat can't see her as an admiral, I hope.”

He sniggered quietly as the wine began taking hold. “No. He has turds for brains, but he's not that stupid. I wasn't guilty, you know.”

“Guilty of what?”

“At Didicas.” He looked almost as surprised as she was at the sudden change of topic. “There was a lot of gang raping going on after the battle, but not me. I found her hiding in a cupboard. I said if she'd fuck with me, I'd keep the others away. She agreed, and with every sign of enthusiasm, I might add.”

“And did you keep the others away afterward?”

“Of course!”

“You need to practice that response. It was a little too emphatic.”

“It wasn't rape!”

“And so was that one. Too forceful.”

He glowered at her. “I was not guilty.”

“Of course you were,” she said, being all motherly. “I was marshal. I was in charge. Dilivost would have done anything in the world to leave you off the list. He'd have given you the benefit of any possible doubt. The evidence against you must have been overwhelming.”

Podakan stared into his goblet for a moment, then drained it and wiped his mouth on a brawny arm. “Well, what if I was one of the wolves? Supposing I was even leader of the pack?
You had me flogged!
Your own son, the day after I saved your life, killed the Beru, won the war—you had me flogged like a common criminal.”

“Which is what you were. Are you sorry for what you did?”

He banged down the goblet and sprang from his chair. “No. And I'm not sorry for what you did either. I like to know my enemies.” He strode out of the room.

Great Goddess! Irona covered her face. Why couldn't he grow up the way other boys did? Why so incredibly mature in some ways and so infantile in others? Whatever would Vly say if he knew?

“Kill him now, Queenie, while you can.”

“What?” She stared around. No one.

Veer appeared in the doorway, looking puzzled.

Irona said, “Did you hear someone speak just now?”

He smiled uneasily, eyes still scanning the room. “I thought I heard Podakan. … But I'd seen him going down the stairs. You hiding other lovers in here now?” There was nowhere to hide a cat.

“Of course not.” She might not have recognized the voice after nineteen years, but the only person who had ever called her Queenie had been Podakan's father.

The heat must be cooking her brains.

Two days later, Rear Admiral Podakan hoisted his flag on
Invincible
and prepared to lead a flotilla of twelve galleys over to Aoba, where six would remain on station while the others carried on to Benign. Irona was already aboard, but Veer had stayed behind to pack up his collection of paintings. Puchuldiza had decided to travel by barque: according to Podakan, she had her eye on a certain bosun. Both Daun Bukit and General Chagulak were remaining in Kell to advise the new governor. Turfan had been promoted to captain and acting commodore. He saluted the surly-faced boy.

“Welcome aboard, Your Honor.”

Podakan said, “I chose this galley for my flagship, Captain, because I was told it was the fastest in this squadron.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Good. I may call you on that boast shortly. Meanwhile I am ready to begin my inspection.”

The rear admiral was just barely eighteen, and legally not even that, the youngest man aboard by far, but he knew galleys. He knew where to look and what to look for. He certainly knew the correct nautical language in which to describe
Invincible
as a pile of guano and its crew as a swarm of sexually perverted dung beetles. He rattled off errors that had to be fixed instantly until veins bulged in Turfan's forehead. Yet discipline held, and he continued to snap, “Aye, sir,” never mentioning that
Invincible
had been at sea almost continuously for two years and a quarter of its original complement had died in action.

At the end Podakan, amidships, yelled to Irona, up on the afterdeck, “You may as well go home, Dam. This shit bucket isn't fit to go anywhere today.”

He then jumped up on the pier and went off to inspect the next vessel under his command. He trashed every one of them.

The next day Podakan did let the squadron leave port. After the men had rowed a fast pace for an hour or so, he ordered a battle drill, involving all ships stripping for action, mounting the bronze ram, both watches donning armor, and then faking a ramming charge. It failed to satisfy him, so he had them repeat it. And again. He made the flotilla spend half the day rowing at top speed in full armor.

Irona became worried about mutiny. “They'll drop you overboard if you don't stop this soon,” she said.

He sneered. “Not these jellyfish cripples. They'll do as I say and like it.”

He ordered a race back to Kell, with the last two ships fated to spend the night at anchor outside the harbor, in the swell, with no supper.
Invincible
won, and he gave Turfan money to buy the entire crew hangovers. So they cheered him.

Governor Dychat was understandably furious to see them return. He had recalled every imperial ship in the archipelago, and even Kell's great harbor was seriously crowded now. He summoned the rear admiral. Irona was not present, but she heard later how her incorrigible son was overheard lambasting the governor in much the same language he had used on the marines. There was no way, he had said, that he was going to take such a loathsome, slipshod, et cetera, fecal, et cetera, flotilla to sea in the middle of a war zone until he had beaten it into shape.

Dychat ordered him to leave at dawn and threatened to demote him to cabin boy if he came back again.

On its third attempt, the Podakan flotilla did manage to leave port and keep going most of the morning. The rear admiral insisted on a more easterly course than the commodore wanted, but Turfan did not argue. He was going to let the young creep hang himself as soon as possible.

Irona sat under the afterdeck canopy and tried to talk with her son. Podakan was impossibly fidgety, unable to sit still through a whole sentence. He finally ran down to the catwalk, stalked along until he found a smallish rower, and slid in beside him. Then he took the oar and rowed, as if to work off excess energy. His bench mate did not complain at being promoted to passenger.

“What's he up to?” Turfan demanded.

“Wait and see, Captain.”

“I know he's your son, ma'am, but …”

“Don't let him fool you. He's got something in mind. He's a lot more cunning than he appears.”

After a couple of hours Podakan returned to the poop, his tunic soaked with sweat. But then he leaped down to the catwalk again and sprinted to the mast. The whole of the upper deck noticed that. He scrambled up and promptly slid back down at a rate that must have burned his hands. He raced aft again, ablaze with excitement.

“Enemy in sight, Captain.”

Turfan stared at the skyline and his jaw dropped. “
Aye, sir!
How many?”

“Too early to tell. You're the fastest. Signal
Intractable
to come alongside. I'm moving my flag. You boil seawater back to Kell and get the rest of the fleet here before dark.”

“But—”

“Do it!”

Turfan jumped to obey. Podakan sat down beside Irona, shivering with excitement. His eyes shone. The hairs on his arms were standing up.

“How many?” she asked.

“The whole fucking horizon is full of them.”

He had known. She couldn't imagine how, but he had wasted two days in Kell and ordered a deviant course today, just so he could intercept the Kingdoms' fleet. Was he in the Kingdoms' pay? Was he using Maleficence? Would he fight them or join them?

“You're going to attack, aren't you?”

“Of course not. You think I'm crazy to take on a fleet that size with just eleven ships? But I'll shadow them until Lapdog Dychat gets here. Whose side do you think I'm on?”

His own, of course, no question there, but she didn't know which team.

“I'll send the fleet, son, but please,
please
,
please
, hold off until it gets here?”

“You think I'm crazy? Death is for losers. We'll show two lanterns on the mast after dark, so they can tell friend from foe. Got that? Attaboy, Dam!” He ran over to the rail and prepared to jump the moment
Intractable
came close enough.

Invincible
's crew rowed like madmen, making her dance over the swell. The bosun kept increasing the stroke until Turfan told him to stop or he would have men fainting and fouling the whole watch. They entered the harbor with a war flag flying and trumpeters sounding the muster. The harbor was so packed that there was nowhere left to beach. Men jumped into chest-deep water. Irona was handed down and carried ashore. Then four men ran her toward the town shoulder-high, like a human battering ram.

Dychat had heard the commotion, though, and arrived in a chair before she reached the gate. The moment her feet were set on the ground, she shouted the news to him, bellowing so the fast-gathering­ crowd would hear it.

“What's that maniac son of yours doing about it?”

“He said he would shadow them, but he was lying. I know him. He'll attack, straight down their throats.” She raised her voice to maximum. “If there are any red-blooded Benesh marines here looking for a fight, then now's your chance for glory.”

Dychat's angry retort was drowned out in the roar, but he had no choice and he knew it. If the Kingdoms' legions were allowed to land, he would be overrun. He ordered out the fleet.

Dychat also ordered Irona not to go, so she had to stay ashore to chew her fingernails down to the elbow. Fortunately, a full squadron of a dozen galleys under Commodore Garbes had been due to leave Kell the next morning; he led it out within minutes, ready or not. Another dozen or so ships followed as soon as they could, many with pick-up crews.