Off Armageddon Reef (57 page)

“That's certainly true, Rayjhis,” Cayleb said. “Most of the squadron's ships are already beginning to hog at least a little.”

“I'm not surprised.” Gray Harbor grimaced. The phenomenon known as “hogging” was scarcely unknown among galleys, after all. When you put heavy weights at the ends of a wooden hull (which was where most of a galley's guns happened to be mounted), it inevitably put a severe strain on a ship's keel. The usual result was that the ship's ends drooped downward and its keel “hogged”—literally warped and bent upward in the middle, sometimes severely enough to threaten the ship's safety.

“Sir Dustyn and I have been discussing that very problem with Baron Seamount…in our copious free time, of course,” Merlin said dryly. “I believe Sir Dustyn may be on the track of a solution, but for right now, none of us want to make any changes in existing building practices unless we absolutely have to. It's more important to get the ships built than that we build the very best ships we possibly could.”

“I agree,” Gray Harbor said again, firmly. “Even if it does offend my sensibilities to build so many ships out of green timber.”

Cayleb made a face which mirrored the earl's unhappiness. Ships made out of unseasoned timber rotted quickly. The Safeholdian teak tree, which really did resemble the terrestrial tree of the same name, was the most favored shipbuilding timber on the planet. It was very strong, very hard, and remarkably resistant—when properly seasoned—to rot. But they weren't using teak for most of the new ships. Charis had large stands of teak, at least half of which were owned outright by the Crown and the Royal Navy. But not even teak could resist rot effectively without time to season properly, and Haarahld and Cayleb had flatly refused to use up their precious reserves of teak on ships whose life spans were inevitably going to be short, to say the very least.

They'd be lucky if they got more than five years of service out of any of the vessels whose construction Olyvyr was currently overseeing here at King's Harbor, Merlin knew. Unfortunately, the available supply of seasoned ship timber was limited, and a ship which rotted into uselessness five years down the road but could be available this year was far preferable to one which wouldn't rot but couldn't be built in time. Which meant they didn't have a lot of choice.

“Sir Dustyn believes we should be able to find most of the timber we'll need for several dozen ships by breaking up the reserve galleys,” Merlin offered. “We can't do that until we have enough newly built galleons, of course, but we'll begin as soon as we safely can, with your and the King's permission, My Lord.”

“My permission you already have,” Gray Harbor told him. “I feel confident the king will also agree.”

“We're still going to be hard-pressed to build the new ships,” Cayleb warned the first councillor. “I'm delighted by Master Howsmyn's success in providing the sheet copper for the hulls, but just finding the spars to mast them is going to be a genuine problem. And you can't roll spars out in a private foundry the way you can sheet copper. When the Navy starts buying up all of the suitable timber for that, it's going to make someone like Hektor start asking questions, anyway.”

“And spars and copper are only part of it,” Merlin agreed. “We need canvas, cordage, pitch—everything you can think of.”

He shook his head ruefully. On the one hand, he'd been astounded by how quickly Sir Dustyn Olyvyr could get new ships laid down and built. The naval constructor's estimate—and it looked accurate—was that he could complete a new galleon's hull in no more than ninety days from the moment the green timbers arrived at the King's Harbor shipyard. From Merlin's research, that compared favorably with the construction times for eighteenth-century shipbuilders on Old Earth under emergency pressure. Unfortunately, Olyvyr could build only about half a dozen of them at a time, and however quickly he could build the
hulls
, the ships, as Cayleb had just pointed out, still needed to be masted and rigged. Not to mention finding the guns to put aboard them and the men to crew them.

“That's another place where converting merchant ships will help,” Gray Harbor pointed out. “Surely we can cut gunports and modify existing sail plans more quickly than we can build from scratch.”

“I'm sure you're right, My Lord,” Merlin said, “although we have to think about strengthening their hulls against the recoil forces, as well. Still, I'm afraid our most optimistic estimates suggest that it's going to take us at least another full year to reach our original target numbers.”

Gray Harbor looked grim.

“I don't think we're going to be able to keep all of this secret that long,” he said.

“I agree,” Cayleb said. “In fact, I think we need to reconsider laying down additional ships at Hairatha.”

Gray Harbor's eyes narrowed unhappily at the suggestion, and the crown prince shrugged.

“I'm not blind to what Merlin calls the ‘security aspects' of the idea, Rayjhis. As soon as the Navy starts building large numbers of galleons someplace people know we're doing it, someone's going to start wondering why. I know that. But after Tellesberg itself, Hairatha has our biggest shipyards. We could build a dozen in the royal dockyard at Hairatha alone.”

“That's true, I realize, Cayleb,” the first councillor said. “And once we're within striking range of our final projected numbers, finishing up the final ships ‘in public,' as it were, won't be a problem, I suppose. But still…”

He let his voice trail off, and Cayleb nodded in glum agreement. But then the crown prince's eyes narrowed as Merlin stroked one of his waxed mustachios thoughtfully.

“What?” the prince asked. Merlin looked at him, and Cayleb snorted. “You're pulling on your mustache again. Are you going to tell us what new deviousness you've thought of this time, or not?”

“I don't know that I'd call it ‘devious,'” Merlin said mildly, “but I
have
just had a thought.”

“Well,” Gray Harbor said with a grin, “in that case, while Cayleb may have spoken with the impetuosity of youth, he does have a point. Spit it out, man!”

“It's just occurred to me,” Merlin said, “that there's no reason we can't build additional ships right out in the open, if we really want to. I think we've all been forgetting that Sir Dustyn is one of the Kingdom's best known
private
ship designers. He's already taken orders to build at least a dozen schooners I know of in Tellesberg, all for different owners. There's no reason we couldn't have him lay down another dozen or so galleons for the Navy in privately owned yards without telling anyone who he's actually building them for.”

“But—” Cayleb began, only to stop as Gray Harbor held up one hand.

“You're suggesting we announce—or, rather, that he and the shipyard owners announce—to everyone that he's building them as merchant vessels for private owners?”

“Exactly.” Merlin shrugged. “They won't look exactly like existing galleons, even on the building ways, but they won't look all
that
different, either. We couldn't copper them as they were built without giving away the game, but once they were launched and rigged, we could sail them to King's Harbor or Hairatha, drydock them, and copper them there. That would probably actually save time. And if the hulls look a little odd compared to standard merchantmen, everybody knows Sir Dustyn's just introduced a brand-new type with the schooner, and he's rigging two galleons he already had under construction with the new square-rigger sail plan, as well. Given that everyone knows he's experimenting, why shouldn't he be building galleons with hulls that don't look quite like those of existing ships?”

“And,” Cayleb said, any initial temptation to object vanishing into sudden enthusiasm, “the very fact that we were building them openly would actually help keep anyone from suspecting what we were up to! How likely is Hektor or Nahrmahn to expect us to be building ‘secret weapons' right out in front of everyone?”

“Hmmm.” Gray Harbor tapped his chin for a moment, then nodded. “I think you have a point, Merlin. Both of you have points, in fact. I'll recommend to the King that he seriously consider authorizing the suggestion. But I think I'll also suggest that we don't bring the shipyard owners into the secret unless we absolutely have to. Better, I think, to pick a handful of shipowners we know we can trust and act through them. They can place the orders for us, with the Treasury to actually pay for the ships when they're completed.”

“If that's practical, I think it would be a very good idea, My Lord,” Merlin agreed.

“Very well, then.” Gray Harbor looked back out across the anchored squadron once more, then drew a deep breath.

“I think it's time I was returning to Tellesberg,” he said. “The King and I will have quite a lot to discuss, but at least I can tell him”—he looked back at Merlin and Cayleb and smiled broadly—“that our efforts out here are in excellent hands.”

“I don't much care for Hektor's tone lately,” Trahvys Ohlsyn said.

The Earl of Pine Hollow sat across the dining table on the covered terrace from Prince Nahrmahn, watching his cousin pry shellfish out of their shells with gusto. Hahl Shandyr had joined them, but the spymaster's appetite obviously hadn't accompanied him. He'd done little more than nibble at the salad on his plate.

“I don't care for it, either,” Nahrmahn grunted around a mouthful. He swallowed, then sipped fastidiously at a glass of fruit-juice-laced water.

“I don't care for his tone,” the prince continued, setting the glass down, “and I'm rapidly coming to the conclusion that I don't much care for
him
, either.”

“Unfortunately, My Prince,” Shandyr said, “the feeling appears to be mutual.”

Nahrmahn glowered at the baron. Shandyr wasn't exactly basking in his prince's admiration at the moment. The fact that Nahrmahn knew as well as Shandyr did that his current problems weren't entirely his fault didn't make the prince any happier. Unfortunately, he couldn't disagree with what Shandyr had just said.

“It's never been more than an alliance of convenience,” he said, after a moment, reaching for another shellfish and the silver tongs. “It's not exactly as if we have to love one another.”

“No,” Pine Hollow agreed. “But what bothers me is this attitude of his. Look at this, for example.” He tapped one of the letters he'd brought to the working lunch. “He's not
discussing
things with us; he's telling us what he's already
decided
. It's the kind of letter I might have sent the bailiff on one of my secondary estates!”

“It's not quite that bad,” Nahrmahn disagreed. His cousin snorted, and the prince shrugged. “I'm not saying you're wrong, Trahvys. I'm just saying Hektor's always seen himself as the senior member of our little partnership. As nearly as we can tell, things aren't going a lot better for him in Tellesberg than they are for us right now, so he may be getting just a little testier as a result.”

“It's not the
insult
that bothers me, Nahrmahn. Or, not much, at least. It's the mind-set behind it. If he's talking to us this way while the two of us are still allied against Charis, what's his attitude going to be after Charis goes down? And just who do you think he envisions getting the lion's share of the spoils?”

“I'm sure he plans on it being him,” Nahrmahn said comfortably. “Of course, his calculations may just prove to be slightly in error.”

Pine Hollow's eyes narrowed. He sat back for a moment, gazing at his cousin in intense speculation. Then he cocked his head to one side.

“Is there something going on here that I ought to know about?” he asked.

“Well,” Nahrmahn said, opening up another shell and inspecting its contents thoughtfully, “actually, there are two things going on. First, there's a little side conversation I've been having with Bishop Executor Wyllys. It seems Archbishop Lyam is already sounding out support in the Temple for granting us a Church mandate over Margaret's Land on the basis of our historic association with its people. From what the Bishop Executor says, the Archbishop's meeting with a fairly favorable reception on that point. After all we're already on excellent terms with the new Earl of Hanth. And our orthodoxy is much firmer than Haarahld's. Or, for that matter, Hektor's.”

He scooped out the shellfish and popped it into his mouth, managing to chew and smile sardonically at the same time.

Pine Hollow frowned thoughtfully. Lyam Tyrn, the Archbishop of Emerald, was greedier than most archbishops. Which was saying quite a lot, actually. Of course, Tyrn hadn't drawn the most lucrative of archbishoprics, either. Emerald wasn't exactly poverty-stricken, but compared to someplace like Charis—or Corisande, for that matter—its tithes were decidedly on the penurious side. And Tyrn's holdings outside Emerald weren't precisely the most prosperous imaginable. Still, the man came from one of the more powerful of the Church dynasties, and his name and family connections gave him considerably more influence than his lack of wealth might indicate. And that lack of wealth made him much more willing to use that influence in return for suitable consideration.

“All right,” the earl said after a moment. “I can see that. After all, presumably the Church will incorporate any new territory into his archbishopric. But that still leaves Silver and Charis Island itself.”

“The Church isn't going to let anyone snap up all of Charis, Trahvys,” Nahrmahn replied. “The Council of Vicars is perfectly willing to let Hektor and me
break
Charis, but the vicars aren't about to let either of us gobble up everything that's made Haarahld so…irritating to them. Hektor has visions of sneaking around them somehow, and I suppose it's possible he may get them to sign off on a mandate over Silver. For that matter, he may even manage to acquire outright title to it. But Silver's worth a lot less than Margaret's Land, and the people living there are even more firmly attached to the Ahrmahks. Controlling them's going to be a fairly strenuous pastime—one I'd just as soon avoid.

“As for Charis proper, I'll be very surprised if the Church doesn't step in and establish either direct rule—possibly in the name of Haarahld's minor children, assuming either of them survive—or else install a suitable puppet of its own. Possibly both. A regency for Haarahld's younger son might give them enough transition time to accustom Charis to direct Church rule, and there'd always be plenty of opportunities for him to suffer one of those tragic childhood accidents when he was no longer necessary. Either way, neither Hector nor I is going to get possession of Tellesberg. The difference between us is that I
know
I'm not, and I'm already making arrangements to be sure I do get the
second
most desirable slice of the pie.”

“Fair enough.” Pine Hollow nodded. “On the other hand, I
am
your First Councillor, Nahrmahn. I think it might be a good idea to keep me informed on these little side negotiations of yours. Just to keep me from stepping on any toes because I didn't know they were there.”

“A valid point,” Nahrmahn agreed. He sipped wine and squinted out across the sunlit gardens from the terrace's shade. “I'll try to bear it in mind,” he promised, although Pine Hollow had no great expectation that he'd succeed. Nahrmahn probably didn't even tell
himself
about all of his various plots.

“But you said there were two points Hektor wasn't aware of,” the earl prompted after a moment, and Nahrmahn chuckled nastily.

“I know Hahl hasn't had very much luck rebuilding his agents in Tellesberg,” he said. “But whatever may be happening to him there, he's doing quite well other places. Which is one reason,” the prince's voice turned somehow subtly darker, “I'm being patient with him about Charis.”

Pine Hollow nodded. Baron Shandyr's every effort to replace the departed Braidee Lahang's operation in Charis had failed. Every attempt seemed to be detected almost instantly, and Shandyr had lost at least a half-dozen of his better people trying to figure out what was going wrong.

“Among the things he's done right,” Nahrmahn continued more lightly, “is to establish contact with Baron Stonekeep.”

Pine Hollow's eyes narrowed once more; Edymynd Rustmyn, Baron Stonekeep, was not only King Gorjah of Tarot's first councillor, but also his equivalent of Hahl Shandyr.

“Stonekeep is keeping us informed about Gorjah's negotiations with Hektor. His services aren't coming cheaply, but when the time's ripe, we'll use him to tell Gorjah what Hektor really has in mind for Tarot. Which is for it to get exactly nothing out of the deal, except relief from its treaties with Charis. I'm sure Gorjah won't care for that, at all. Especially if we offer to support his claim to at least a chunk of Charisian territory of his own. We're providing Stonekeep with some of our homing wyverns, as well, which may come in handy if quick political decisions have to be made.”

Pine Hollow nodded again, this time in unalloyed approval, although he was tempted to point out that this was another of those little stratagems which Nahrmahn might have wanted to bring to his first councillor's attention.

“And, as a measure of last resort, as it were,” Nahrmahn continued, “Hahl has a man in place in Manchyr. In fact, he has two of them. In a worst-case situation, Hektor's health may turn out to be much more fragile than he assumes it is.”

The prince smiled again, then nodded at one of the serving platters.

“Pass the rolls, please?” he requested pleasantly.