"None of which is really much of a surprise," Cayleb pointed out in a voice which sounded much less concerned than Merlin knew he actually was.
"Perhaps not. But the fact that the Council's involved at all is hardly what I'd call good news, Cayleb!"
"Agreed. Agreed! But you heard what Rayjhis had to say right here on this very roof." Cayleb's expression was much grimmer for a moment. "Sooner or later, the members of the Council who fear us would've come out of the shadows, anyway. At least now, thanks to you, we know they're doing it."
"Thanks to me" in more ways than you know, Cayleb, Merlin thought with a spasm of guilt, then shook himself.
"I don't like the odds if they do bring Dohlar in," he said frankly.
"I can't say I'd care for them a lot, myself," Cayleb conceded. "Still, even adding Dohlar and Tarot to the balance sheet, Hektor wouldn't have much better than a three-to-two advantage in hulls."
Merlin gave him a skeptical look, and the crown prince snorted. In fact, as Cayleb knew perfectly well, the official strength of the Royal Charisian Navy, when fully mobilized, was a hundred and thirty galleys, including the fifty in the reserve fleet. Hektor of Corisande had an active-duty strength of fifty, with another thirty in reserve. Nahrmahn of Emerald had forty-five in permanent commission and another twenty-five or thirty in reserve. That gave the two of them a combined active-duty strength of ninety-five with another sixty or so in reserve, or a total of a hundred and fifty, although almost all of them were indivdually smaller and less powerful than their Charisian counterparts.
Tarot's fleet was smaller, with only thirty galleys in permanent commission and no reserve worth mentioning. But the Dohlaran Navy had sixty in permanent commission and another seventy in reserve, and their galleys were big, powerful ships, although they were very definitely designed as a coastal force, not for the high seas. So, if Tarot and Dohlar were added to the ranks of Charis' enemies, King Haarahld's hundred and thirty galleys could find themselves opposed by well over three hundred.
"All right," Cayleb said after a moment. "I'll grant you that if they got every hulk in their reserve fleet into commission, they'd have us by better than two to one. But, first, it's unlikely they will manage to get all of them into commission. And, second, Dohlar is over seven thousand miles from here as the wyvern flies . . . and over twenty-three thousand as the ship sails. That's a Shan-wei of a voyage for a batch of coastal galleons, Merlin! And Charis-and our entire navy-is squarely between Dohlar and Corisande. They'd have to get past us before they could combine."
"Which doesn't mean they won't try," Merlin pointed out.
"No, but if they don't coordinate things carefully, we'd be able to smash each wing of their strategy separately. And even using the Church's semaphore, it's going to take time for any operation that complex to be coordinated. You were there when I discussed it with Father and Rayjhis."
Cayleb shrugged.
"I agree with them. It's already early August. We're into midwinter down here, and by the time Erayk's report gets back to the Temple, it's going to be the end of the month, or even September. That means they're going to be heading into fall up north. It takes over a month for even the semaphore system to get a message from the Temple to Manchyr, and from your visions, they haven't even spoken to Hektor yet. So let's say they spend a five-day or two thinking things over, then send a message to Hektor. That means it's going to be somewhere around the middle of November by the time they can hear back from him. And that means it's going to be the end of February by the time they can get a second message to him. So, the earliest they should be able to move is going to be very late February or March, which is the middle of winter in Dohlar. Then it's going to take at least seventy days or so for the Dohlaran navy to get any of its ships as far as Charis. So if they get underway by the middle of March, they'll get here sometime in May. Which is the middle of fall again, and only an idiot would fight a sea war in these waters in the middle of storm season."
He shrugged again.
"If I were running the Temple, I'd accept that I was going to have to wait at least another two or three months, which would mean the earliest we'd see them down here would be sometime in the spring. Say October of next year."
"That all sounds perfectly reasonable and reassuring," Merlin said. "The only thing that bothers me about it is that it requires the other side to be smart enough to see the same objections we see."
"Granted." Cayleb reached for another spider-crab leg and waved it at Merlin. "At the same time, they don't know about Domynyk and his little surprise."
"No," Merlin agreed. "At least, not so far as I can tell."
"Well, there you are." Cayleb shrugged again and cracked the spider-crab leg to get at the succulent inner meat.
"And how many galleons do we have?" Merlin asked.
"Not as many as I'd like," Cayleb agreed rather indistinctly, then swallowed.
"Not as many as I'd like," he repeated, more clearly. "But if they'll hold off until spring, that will change."
It was Merlin's turn to nod. Commodore Staynair-except it was going to be Admiral Staynair very soon now-had his squadron of galleons up to fifteen, six of them converted merchantships armed solely with carronades. By November, that number would have just about doubled, although many of the additional ships would just be starting their working up exercises at that point. And by next March, the total should be up to almost fifty, many of which-especially the purpose-built units-would carry many more guns than the original Experimental Squadron's units. In addition, Haarahld and High Admiral Seamount had already earmarked almost a dozen largish schooners building in Tellesberg for impressment into naval service.
Unfortunately, it was far from certain they'd be able to effectively arm all their new units as soon as they were built. Howsmyn was working not so minor miracles at the vastly expanded King's Harbor foundry, and his new foundry at Delthak would be pouring its first run of artillery by late October, if all went well. Even so, things were going to be tight, and they'd been forced to effectively strip the entire reserve fleet of its heavy armament already. Which meant that adding fifteen galleons had reduced the Navy's effective strength by fifty galleys.
It also meant they were becoming increasingly strapped for competent galleon captains. Dunkyn Maylyr was a case in point. He was an experienced naval officer, who'd commanded his own ship for over five years, but he was a galley captain. He thought like a galley captain, and although he was in the process of becoming an enthusiastic recruit to the concept Merlin had described as "peace through superior firepower," he didn't have very much experience yet in commanding a galleon. Still, he was working hard, and they'd managed to quietly recruit several merchant skippers with previous naval experience. They had plenty of experience managing galleons; it was their naval skills which had gotten rusty.
At least Staynair's unyielding concentration on merciless gun drill had paid off. He'd insisted, with Cayleb's b support, on training every member of every one of his original gun crews as a fully qualified gun captain. As a result, they'd been able to provide each ship with a nucleus of trained gun captains as it commissioned, and the Royal Charisian Navy's current gunnery standards were on a totally different plane from anyone else's.
Now if we only had more guns for them to shoot with, he thought sardonically.
"At least Erayk seems to be trying to keep the lid on the pot," he said to Cayleb after a moment.
"I know." Cayleb grimaced. "I'd call the man a toad, if it wouldn't be an insult to all toads. Still, at the moment his own motives are pushing him to do what we want. And Father Paityr's position hasn't hurt anything. All we can do now is wait and see. But if the Council only listens to him for a couple of more months, I'm pretty sure we'll have that break until next year. At which point," the crown prince's smile was not a pleasant expression, "we'll have enough galleons in commission to make them very unhappy."
III
Vicar Zahmsyn Trynair's Suite,
The Temple
Vicar Zahmsyn Trynair spooned up the last bit of his dessert custard and swallowed it with a sigh of pleasure. A mouthful of water cleansed his palette, and he sat back from the table sipping his wine with a feeling of profound satisfaction.
The August day had been warm, the reports from his bailiffs all indicated his manors were likely to enjoy bumper harvests, and the year's tithing was almost an entire month ahead of schedule. It had been his turn to host the Group of Four's once-a-five-day working supper, and for once, he'd looked forward to it without worrying that anything would affect his digestion afterward.
He'd taken extra pains with this five-day's supper, and his chef had done him proud. Everyone except Clyntahn had obviously reached the point of repletion, and the only flaw in his own pleasure was the reflection that next five-day it would be Magwair's turn to feed them. And Magwair's idea of properly cooked vegetables required them to be boiled into an unappetizing pulp.
"Well," he said in his role as host, "I suppose it's time we got to business." He took another sip of wine. "Personally, I have to say I'm rather relieved by the tenor of Dynnys' dispatches."
"You are, are you?" Clyntahn half-grunted. He leaned forward and helped himself to one of the unclaimed rolls, spreading it liberally with butter and stuffing half of it into his mouth in a single bite.
"I have to agree with Zahmsyn, Zhaspyr," Duchairn said mildly. "I know you're not particularly fond of the entire Wylsynn family, but according to Dynnys, Father Paityr went back and reconsidered his original findings very carefully. He continues to insist there's no violation of the Proscriptions. To me, that bly suggests the reports we've been getting-a lot of them from enemies of Charis, I think it should be noted-truly are exaggerated."
"I see." Clyntahn's response was indistinct. He swallowed the mouthful of bread, washing it down with a hefty gulp of Trynair's expensive wine, and shook his head.
"I might be willing to agree with you, Rhobair," he said then. "If, of course, our good Archbishop had told us the truth in his dispatches."
"What?" Trynair sat up straighter, aware Duchairn and Magwair had done the same thing, and looked demandingly at the Grand Inquisitor. "What do you mean, Zhaspyr?"
"I mean I've never trusted that little snot Wylsynn as far as I could spit," Clyntahn replied. "And I had my doubts about Dynnys' reliability, if it came right down to it. So, unbeknownst to our beloved Archbishop of Charis, his new secretary, Father Symyn, is an agent of the Inquisition. And his report covers a few things Dynnys inexplicably . . . overlooked."
The Inquisitor's smile was ugly, his eyes bright, and Trynair felt his stomach clench. Clyntahn's hatred for Charis had been bad enough before Paityr Wylsynn was assigned as its intendant. Since then, it had grown even more virulent, but he hadn't mentioned to any of the rest of the Group of Four that he intended to plant one of his own agents on Dynnys. Then again, his office gave him the authority to place agents and investigators anywhere he chose, any time he chose, and Trynair suddenly found himself wondering just how many others he had scattered about. And just whom they were keeping watch on.
Which was all somewhat beside the point at the moment, he supposed.
"Should we gather from what you've just said that your agent-Father Symyn, was it?-disagrees with Dynnys' appraisal of the situation?" he asked.
"Oh, yes, I think you could gather that," Clyntahn said sarcastically.
He finished the wine in his glass picked up the bottle, and poured another glassful, then leaned back in his chair with an expression which mingled triumph, hatred, and genuine worry.
"According to Father Symyn's observations and quiet investigation, Wylsynn's 'reconsideration' of his original findings was limited to a single interview with Haarahld and Cayleb. One at which, I might add, Maikel Staynair was also present . . . having been invited by our dear Father Paityr.
"Not only that, Archbishop Erayk somehow neglected to mention to us that this same Maikel Staynair has been preaching sedition from Tellesberg Cathedral itself."
"That's a rather serious charge, Zhaspyr," Duchairn observed, after a moment or two, into the sudden silence around the table.
"Staynair should never have been confirmed as Bishop of Tellesberg in the first place," Clyntahn half-snapped. "That position's far too important to be left in the hands of a Charisian. But," he waggled one hand, showing his teeth in a caricature of a smile, and his eyes were ugly, "that's all water under the bridge, I suppose. Except that Staynair's been preaching sermons about the fallibility of the Inquisition's judgment."
"Forgive me, Zhaspyr," Trynair said, "but I find that a bit difficult to believe. Surely, Bishop Zherald would have reported any such sermons! And whatever your opinion of young Wylsynn, I can't believe he would have allowed such a challenge to Mother Church's authority to pass unreported."
"Oh, you can't, can't you?" Clyntahn's laugh was as ugly as his eyes. "Well, Father Symyn was able to absolutely confirm that Ahdymsyn sent for Staynair following one of his heretical sermons and gave him a royal tongue-lashing. So obviously Dynnys' bishop executor was aware of the problem. And Dynnys had his own little discussion with Staynair, one Father Symyn was present for. Neither Dynnys nor Staynair came right out and admitted what was going on, but it was obvious Dynnys was warning him to keep his mouth shut . . . and that Staynair wasn't what you might call penitent, either. But Dynnys certainly didn't report anything about his need to 'counsel' Staynair to me. And I think you'll all agree it's significant that neither he nor Wylsynn has reported a word about it to us even now."
Trynair frowned. Even allowing for Clyntahn's hatred for all things Charisian, he had a point.
"There's another possible aspect to all of this," Magwair said after a moment, and all eyes turned to him.
"What sort of 'aspect,' Allayn?" Duchairn asked.
"I've received a handful of reports about the Charisian Navy." The Temple's captain general shrugged. "Most of them are coming out of Emerald and Corisande, so I've tended to discount them somewhat. But in light of what Zhaspyr's just said, and particularly in light of the possibility that Wylsynn's been less scrupulous in the discharge of his duties than we'd thought, perhaps I shouldn't have been so quick to do that."
