The Crown of the Conqueror (35 page)

  "I'll not let anything happen to them, I promise," he said. Stroking Luia's hair, the king turned his attention to Urikh, who had taken a step back, arms folded tightly across his chest, eyes narrowed. "We are at an impasse for the while. Anglhan controls my supplies and my family, so I cannot move against him. His hostages are only of value if alive, so they are safe enough if I do nothing to move against Magilnada."

  "But that is an intolerable situation!" All of Ullsaard's earlier pride was swept away as Urikh seemed to revert twenty years, back to when he used to have tantrums as a child when denied.

  "Act like a man!" the king snapped. "The world does not simply exist the way we want it to; we have to make it that way."

  Luia had calmed herself and parted from Ullsaard, her cheeks and eyes red. She sniffed loudly, wiped her face with the cuff of her dress and tidied her hair.

  "How are you going to make them safe?" she asked.

  "I don't know," Ullsaard confessed. "I just don't know yet, but I will think of something. I'll find a way, even if it means giving up Salphoria."

  Luia nodded, sniffed again, and stroked a hand along his arm.

  "I know you will, husband." She glanced up at the palace and then at her son. "Not a word, we are agreed. We have a royal feast to attend. There have been supply problems in Salphoria, but now that the Brotherhood has been restored, that will not last. Other than that, there is nothing to concern anyone with regard to Salphoria."

  "As you say, mother," said Urikh, his whole demeanour sullen.

  The three of them continued up the road, Ullsaard's hand clasped with Luia's, his son at his shoulder. Though he hated himself for thinking it, the king could not help but wonder what he might have done if it had been Luia in Magilnada rather than Allenya? He cursed himself for entertaining such a notion, knowing that no good could come of it.

 

Ullsaard prodded an Okharan spiced fish head around his plate with a spoon, not feeling the slightest touch of hunger. Rain pattered at the window shutters and the occasional distant growl of thunder announced the coming storm. The reception room was abuzz with conversation amongst the two dozen or so special guests who had been chosen to take part in this post-feast discussion. Two First Captains were present – Harrakil of the Seventeenth and Meesiu of the Sixth – along with several fleet owners, a handful of warehouse landlords, three local noble family heads, the chairmen of the city's two rival merchant boards and Thasalin.

  This last cut a strange figure amongst the gaudy refinery of the others. Dressed in his severe black robe, the head of Okhar's Brotherhood precinct meticulously selected an apple from a bowl on one of the low tables, turning each fruit over in his hand, inspecting it precisely before replacing it. Having made his decision, the chosen apple was carefully pared away with a small knife, each sliver deposited neatly between the Brother's fleshy lips and chewed dispassionately.

  Ullsaard hated the man; not just because he was a Brother. The qualities that made him such an admirable civil servant were vices in good company. He was fastidious to the point of pedantry; he had the habit of repeating any question asked of him, rephrased with subtle changes of nuance; his watery blue eyes regarded everything with suspicion and every person with mild disdain.

  He was just the sort of man that Ullsaard had long despised for their miserly allocations of funds and grain, their undisguised contempt for men that shed blood for a living, and their self-important inflexions and sneering comments that the king had never understood. For all that – because of that – Thasalin was also just the sort of man Ullsaard needed to run the empire on his behalf.

  Sensing their liege's sour mood, the guests invited into this inner circle had not approached Ullsaard, though clearly nearly all were anxious to do so. Ullsaard was content to let them wait. He remembered when he was last in this room, exchanging barbs with Nemtun, terrifying Noran. He looked at the fish head and smiled at the memory of Nemtun's indignation and the pleasure of causing it.

  "If I may have a word, king?"

  Ullsaard looked up and saw Thasalin, who had evidently taken Ullsaard's brief display of humour as an indication that the king was now amenable to interruption.

  "Have several," Ullsaard sighed, depositing his plate on the side table next to the couch. He slouched back, rested his hands on his belly and crossed his ankles. "Have as many as you want."

  Thasalin turned slightly and gestured to Harrakil and Meesiu. The two captains approached, helmets under their arms.

  "I wish to clarify a few points, king," said Thasalin. That was another thing that annoyed Ullsaard. Thasalin always wanted to 'clarify'; never 'sort out', 'check' or 'confirm'. "It is with regard to the provisioning of the legions you are despatching to the Mekhani border."

  "What of it?" said Ullsaard, not bothering to conceal a yawn. His sleep had not improved much, even though he was now several hundred miles from the Crown.

  "I can understand the need to provide full camp supplies for the Seventeenth and Eleventh, as they are stationed upon the border itself. The Third and Sixth are to make camp in far more fertile areas. They will be able to forage without concern, yet you have ordered that they be provided with enough provisions for a sixty-day campaign. This seems to be a waste of muchneeded grain, meat and other comestibles."

  "Food," said Ullsaard. "We like to call it food. The Eleventh and Seventeenth are our front line against the Mekhani, but they are more of a garrison force. The Third and Sixth are a mobile reserve. They may be in fertile lands now, but I want them to be ready on any given day to march out and take the fight to the Mekhani. That could mean many days of hard march with no forage time, and might even take them into Mekha."

  "I see," said Thasalin. His expression conveyed his understanding of the policy, if not his approval.

  Ullsaard looked up at the First Captains, standing just a little behind the Brother.

  "You have concerns you wish to raise?" asked the king.

  "Are we to be quartered in Okhar for the whole winter?" asked Meesiu. "The Third have marched directly from Ersua and we have not yet received cold weather kit."

  "Okhar is not as cold as Ersua," replied Ullsaard. He waved a hand at Thasalin. "That said, I'm sure the Brother here can make the necessary arrangements to provide extra blankets, storm sheets and all of the other stuff you might need."

  "There is something else, king," said Harrakil when it was clear that Meesiu was not going to say anything further. "My orders are to patrol the border in force, keeping my legion together. It seems counter-productive to do so, when we could cover more ground if I split the Seventeenth into patrol marches. Say, two companies in each?"

  "No," said Ullsaard with a shake of the head. He sat up and fixed the First Captain with his stare. "The Mekhani could pick off any number of those marches at will if they choose; they'll think twice about attacking a full legion."

  "The savages are crossing the Nakuus at will, king," said Thasalin. "They burn farms and towns, and have waylaid caravans on the roads and ships on the river. It is more efficient to garrison the crossing points and the settlements than send two whole legions marching back and forth for no purpose."

  "No purpose?" Ullsaard forced himself to remain calm. "Was I just speaking Salphorian or something? The Mekhani want to divide us and we must not allow that to happen."

  "With respect, king, the Mekhani are a bunch of half-brained barbarians," said Meesiu. "You attribute them with a greater sense of strategy than they possess. They are raiding in force, yes, but nothing a strong garrison could not repel."

  "And I made the same mistake in Salphoria," Ullsaard growled. "They're just a bunch of idiots, right? No strategy, no tactics, right? Wrong! I lost whole legions because I underestimated what a rabble can do if they get together."

  "The Mekhani do not have a single leader," protested Thasalin. "We know that they attack each other as much as they attack us. This is not a concerted effort, it is simply opportunism. They have doubtless heard in some way that we are heavily committed in Salphoria and they have scuttled out of their holes like mice when the cat is busy chasing rats. I think you grant them too much credit, king."

  "I'd rather give them unearned credit than see a Mekhani army marching on Geria," said Ullsaard. "Besides, what makes you think I'm happy about sitting around and waiting for them to attack?"

  "You aim to launch a campaign in Mekha come the spring?" Thasalin could not hide his incredulity. "You wage war on two fronts?"

  "Something like that," grunted Ullsaard. He stood up, forcing the men back a few steps. "My strategy is my own, but my commands have been clear enough. Is there any reason why you cannot carry out your orders?"

  The three exchanged glances. No objection was forthcoming.

  "Good," said Ullsaard. "Now I will attend to some of my other guests."

  With that, the king headed towards the beaded curtain over the door. Pushing through, he came to the main feasting hall. The event was more boisterous here, the wine from Urikh's cellars flowing freely, the naked dancing boys and girls giving great entertainment. Here were the lesser entities of Geria, including the sons, wives and daughters of some of the men within the other chamber.

  Ullsaard looked across the crowd of people gathered in groups, circulating slowly and lounging on divans and couches. Men with flushed faces, women with pale make-up, serving staff with dark red tunics and dresses weaving through the mass.

  Beside one of the open doors, the darkening evening sky behind her, stood a beautifully proportioned woman with flowing locks of auburn hair, her slender body barely concealed by a few veil-like wraiths of silk, a rainbow-coloured shawl about her shoulders. She regarded the handful of fawning men around her with blatant disinterest, her eyes frequently straying to the other guests. Her gaze met Ullsaard's and stopped roaming, a coy smile turning the corner of the woman's mouth.

  "Lerissa." Ullsaard barely breathed the name to himself. When last he had seen her, briefly glimpsed across a banquet, he had been a general summoned by her husband, the governor. Now he was king.

  He pushed through the cluster of people that had gathered around the king at his appearance, paying them no heed. At his approach, Lerissa's clamouring consorts scattered like rabbits before a fox, and those folk trailing hopefully behind Ullsaard broke off their following and turned away with disappointed grunts and sighs.

  Alone with Lerissa, Ullsaard took her hand and lightly kissed her palm in greeting. She bowed her head in return.

  "It is an honour to meet our king," said Lerissa. "I hope that this latest visit to our city is fruitful."

  "It has had its ups and downs," said Ullsaard. He winked. "Currently, things are up."

  Lerissa smiled again, indulging the bad joke, her eyes roving up and down the king for a few heartbeats before settling again on his face.

  "You have the whole of the empire at your disposal, but if there is anything I can do to make your stay here more pleasant, I am happy to oblige," she said.

  "Oblige?" Ullsaard almost choked on the word. He looked away for a moment, and his eyes met those of Luia, who was stood at the beaded doorway, one arm on the frame, the other on her hip. She gave him the subtlest of nods, smiled and turned back into the other room. Ullsaard returned his attention to the red-headed woman before him, standing so close he could smell the perfume upon her skin.

  "I have a few matters I wish to discuss with you," she said, raising her voice slightly. Ullsaard was confused by this change until she continued. "They are of a private nature, perhaps you would walk with me a while in the gardens."

  "I would be happy to," Ullsaard replied, a little stiffly, catching on to her intent. "I could spare a short while to listen to any petition."

  Lerissa waved for Ullsaard to proceed out of the door. The rain was falling hard but a black-lacquered roofed path crossed the lawns, lit every twenty paces by blue-glassed lanterns. Ullsaard said nothing at first and instead listened to the pattering of the rain on the wood above his head. Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed in the distance, silhouetting the trees and hedges that bounded the dawnwards extent of the gardens.

  "I love Allenya," he said, and instantly wondered why.

  "I'm sure if I was to know her, I would love her also," replied Lerissa. She caught Ullsaard's intrigued glance. "As a sister."

  Ullsaard nodded and chuckled.

  "Why would you speak to me of love?" Lerissa asked.

  "Because I want to fuck you," said Ullsaard. Lerissa stopped and turned to him, and the king cursed his lack of subtlety and scant knowledge concerning the finer phrases of seduction.

  "A soldier's proposal," laughed Lerissa.

  "I'm sorry," said Ullsaard. "You are right, I speak with a soldier's tongue, and very clumsy it is."

  "Do not apologise," said Lerissa. "Your honesty is as alluring as your body. Not the sweetest-tongued man in Geria has the courage to speak his intents so plainly to me, though their desires are every bit as obvious."

  "Still, it was blunt, and I should not have said it."

  Lerissa hooked her arm in Ullsaard's and led him along the path again, taking a fork towards a covered bench set within a tall hedge.

  "I think I should very much like to fuck you as well," she said. "It has been a long time since I have had the benefit of a soldier's directness. All of these preening suitors have multiplied since you killed my husband, and there's not a man amongst them."

  "I am sorry if my act has deprived you," said Ullsaard.