"May I know which 'other lands' the Chancellor has in mind, Your Eminence?"
"Of course, Your Highness. I'm instructed to tell you that the Chancellor has been in contact with King Rahnyld of Dohlar. He's also suggested to King Gorjah of Tarot that he might, perhaps, positively consider any initiatives your ambassador might extend. And it's also my understanding that Archbishop Zherohm has been charged to deliver a message to Queen Sharleyan, as well, urging her to support your efforts in this matter."
Despite all he could do, Hektor's jaw dropped slightly. Probably the only person in the entire world who hated him more than Haaralhd of Charis did was Sharleyan of Chisholm, yet even she would be unable to defy a "suggestion" from Trynair to support him. Which only made the Chancellor's offer even more breathtaking. An alliance of virtually every other maritime power against Charis? With the backing of the Temple Lands and their enormous wealth? And, whatever fiction Trynair might choose to maintain, the implicit support of the Church itself?
"Your Eminence, I'm . . . I'm stunned," he said, with total honesty. "I had no idea the Chancellor was so well informed on affairs so far from the Temple Lands. Nor did I realize how clearly he saw the ambitions of Charis. Obviously, if he feels this bly about it, I would be eternally grateful for any assistance he or the Knights of the Temple Lands might be able to provide."
"Then should I inform the Chancellor you accept his offer?"
"Of course you should, Your Eminence!"
"I'm sure he'll be overjoyed to hear that, Your Highness." Bahrmyn smiled broadly. "And he's instructed me to tell you, should you accept his offer of assistance, that the messengers of the Temple will be at your disposal for coordinating with your new allies."
"Please tell him I am deeply, deeply grateful for all he's so generously offered," Hektor said sincerely.
"I will," Bahrmyn said. "And now, Your Highness, I'm sure you have a great deal to attend to, and with your permission, I'll leave you to it."
II
Queen Sharleyan's Palace,
Cheryath,
Kingdom of Chisholm
Queen Sharleyan of Chisholm stormed into the council chamber like a hurricane. Sharleyan wasn't a particularly tall woman, but at the moment, that was easy to overlook. Her dark hair seemed to crackle, her dark brown eyes flashed with fury, and her slender, petite frame seemed coiled like an overstrained cable as her quick, angry stride carried her across the chamber to the chair at the head of the table.
She seated herself, half-crouched forward in her chair, and glared at the two men who had awaited her. Neither one of them was at all happy to find himself the object of their youthful monarch's furious gaze, although both of them knew her anger wasn't directed at them.
She sat without speaking for perhaps ten seconds, then made herself draw a deep breath and sit back.
"Mahrak, Sir Lewk." Her voice was sharp, clipped. "I suppose I ought to say good afternoon, not that there's anything good about it."
Mahrak Sandyrs, Baron Green Mountain and First Councillor of the Kingdom of Chisholm, winced slightly. He knew that tone, not that he blamed her for it today.
"Has Mahrak brought you up to date, Sir Lewk?" the queen asked.
"Not really, Your Majesty," Sir Lewk Cohlmyn, the Earl of Sharpfield, replied cautiously. Sharpfield was the senior admiral of the Chisholm Navy, and he was more at home on a galley's quarterdeck then he was with the political maneuverings which routinely went on at court. "I arrived only a few moments before you did, and he hasn't had time to give me more than the very bare bones. I know there was some sort of message from the Church, and that whatever it was affects the Navy, and that's about all."
"Then let me give you the summary version," Sharleyan said harshly. "This morning, Archbishop Zherohm requested-no, demanded-an audience. Obviously, I granted it. And at that audience, he informed me that Chancellor Trynair requires us to support Hektor of Corisande against Charis."
"What?"
Surprise startled the question out of Sharpfield. He gawked at his queen, then turned to stare at the first councillor. After a moment, he shook himself and turned back to Sharleyan.
"Your pardon, Your Majesty. That was . . . unseemly of me." He seemed to take a certain comfort from the familiar veneer of courtesy. "Mahrak-Baron Green Mountain-had told me the Archbishop's message was insulting and demanding, but I had no idea Vyncyt had said anything like that!"
"Well, unfortunately, he did," Sharleyan grated. Fresh fury flickered in her eyes, but then her nostrils flared and she inhaled once more.
"He did," she said, more calmly. "And he wasn't especially polite. Obviously, he knows how we feel about Hektor here in Chisholm, but it's clear the Chancellor-speaking, of course, for the Knights of the Temple Lands, not for Mother Church-doesn't care."
"What sort of 'support' are we expected to provide, Your Majesty?" Sharpfield asked warily, and the queen smiled thinly.
"Exactly what you're obviously afraid we are, judging by your tone," she said. "We are required to provide our maximum possible naval support, under Hektor's command, against the Royal Charisian Navy."
"That's insane!" Sharpfield said. "We're probably the only people Hektor hates as much as he hates Haarahld!"
"Probably not quite that much," Green Mountain disagreed. "But I'll grant you, we're almost certainly second on his list. Or possibly third. He has to have a slot in his plans for betraying Nahrmahn, after all."
"But they're asking us to help our worst enemy destroy our most likely ally!" Sharpfield protested.
"No, they aren't asking us to," Sharleyan said. "They're ordering us to. And, unfortunately," some of the fire seemed to leak out of her eyes, and her slender shoulders slumped, "I don't think we have any option but to obey."
"Your Majesty," Sharpfield said, "if we have no choice but to obey, then, obviously, I'll follow whatever orders you give me. But Mahrak is right. If Hektor succeeds in defeating Charis-and with the Temple Lands backing him, ultimately, I don't see how he can fail to-then he'll turn on us as soon afterward as he can. He'll be planning for that from the outset, and if he can, you know who he'll arrange to have suffer the heaviest losses. His navy's already bigger than ours, and his building capacity's greater, as well. If we take significant losses against Charis, it will only be a matter of time, and not much of it, before he attacks us."
"I know, I know," Sharleyan sighed. She leaned forward, propping her elbows on the polished table, and massaged her closed eyelids. Then she lowered her hands and looked at Green Mountain.
"Have you thought of any way out, Mahrak?" she asked, and for just a moment she looked even younger than her age.
The silver-haired first councillor had been almost a surrogate father to the barely teenaged girl who'd inherited the throne of Chisholm eleven years before, following her father's death in battle against a Trellheim piracy confederacy subsidized (unofficially) by Corisande. The two of them had weathered more than one potentially deadly crisis during that time, but now his expression was grim as he looked back at her.
"No, Your Majesty," he said heavily. "I've considered every alternative I could think of, and none of them will work. We can't possibly defy Trynair and the Group of Four over this."
"But Sir Lewk is right," she said almost desperately. "If-when-Hektor wins, he'll turn on us the moment he can. And without Charis to offset his power, we can't possibly defeat him. So whether we obey Traynyr's orders or not, we'll still lose in the end."
"I understand, Your Majesty."
Green Mountain rubbed his forehead. Very few people had expected young Queen Sharleyan to stay on her father's throne. That was partly because they'd underestimated her, but even more, perhaps, because they'd left Mahrak Sandyrs out of their calculations. But this time, not even the first councillor could see a way out.
"I understand," he repeated, "but if we defy Trynair, we know what will happen. If we obey him, there may still be some way we can stave Hektor off afterwards. If nothing else, it's possible Trynair will be unwilling to allow Hektor to become too powerful. In that case, we'll almost certainly be the only kingdom they could support as a counterweight."
"Forgive me, Your Majesty," Sharpset said, "but it's not that certain a thing that Hektor and Nahrmahn can defeat Charis, even with our support. Our combined fleets would outnumber Haarahld's by a considerable margin, but his galleys are bigger and individually more powerful. And, much as it pains me to admit it, his captains and crews are better than ours are. He'll try to catch isolated detachments of our fleet and chop them up. Even if he's forced to offer battle against unfavorable odds, he'll probably give at least as good as he gets. And if nothing else, he could choose to remain in port, behind the Keys and Lock Island, and engage only to defend the straits. We won't have enough of an advantage to fight our way through such narrow passages. If he holes up in the Throat, he can stay there until we're forced to disperse our forces once more, in which case the odds of Hektor's dealing him a knockout blow would be less than even, at best."
"I'm sorry, Sir Lewk," Sharleyan said. "I forgot to tell you. According to Vyncyt, we're not the only 'allies' Trynair's providing for Hektor. He's also adding Tarot and Dohlar to the list."
Sharpset looked at her for a moment, then shook his head slowly.
"What in Heaven's name could Charis have done to provoke this sort of reaction?"
"I don't know," Sharleyan said frankly. "The official line is that Haarahld intends to attack Hektor, and the Knights of the Temple Lands are concerned by his plans of aggression and evident desire to secure total control of all the world's merchant shipping."
Sharpset's eyes widened in disbelief, and she gave a sharp, harsh crack of laughter.
"It's all dragon shit, of course, My Lord!" she said scornfully. "My best guess is that Clyntahn's really behind it. He doesn't trust any of us, this far away from the Temple, and all these new departures coming out of Charis-the new ships, the new spinning and weaving, the new numbers-have to've flicked him on the raw. So this is his response. What else should we expect out of that fornicating pig?"
"Your Majesty," Green Mountain said quietly. She looked at him, and he shook his head.
"Very well, Mahrak," she said after a moment, her tone less caustic but heavier, "I'll watch my tongue. But that doesn't make anything I just said untrue. Nor does it change the fact that if they actually do manage to combine our fleet with Hektor's, Nahrmahn's, Dohlar's, and even Tarot's, Charis is doomed."
"No, it doesn't," Green Mountain agreed. He sat back in his own chair, bracing his forearms on the armrests. "On the other hand, with that much other naval strength committed, even Hektor shouldn't need our full fleet to defeat Haarahld."
"And?" Sharleyan prompted when the first councilor paused.
"And over half our fleet is laid up in reserve, Your Majesty. Nor did we have any advance warning that we were going to be required to support our good friend and neighbor against the vicious aggression of Charis." Green Mountain's smile would have curdled fresh milk. "Under the circumstances, I don't see how anyone could find it surprising if we were to . . . experience some difficulties mobilizing our strength."
He paused again, and there was silence around the table once more. But this time, it was a thoughtful, calculating silence.
"That could be a risky game, Mahrak," Sharpfield said finally. "This business about the Knights of the Temple Lands is nonsense. It's the Church behind this, and that means every under-priest and sexton in the Kingdom would be a potential spy. If Trynair-or, worse, Clyntahn-decides we've deliberately held back . . ."
He let his voice trail off, and shrugged.
"Yes, it could be risky," Sharleyan agreed. "On the other hand, Mahrak has a point. You were just telling Parliament last month what poor shape the reserve is in, how far our supplies of spars and cordage have been drawn down to meet the active fleet's needs. All of that's on the official record."
"And, Lewk," Green Mountain said, "you've been complaining for years about all the incompetent grafters in the Navy's administration. Look at it this way. If we see to it that the directives go to those incompetents you've been trying to get rid of for so long, they're bound to screw up, even without a little judicious assistance from us. And when they do, not only will it keep a sizable chunk of our own Navy right here, safely out of harm's way, but when Trynair demands to know what happened, we'll simply tell him." The first councillor smiled unpleasantly. "Do you really think the patrons who've been protecting them this far will do the same thing when we offer them up to appease Mother Church's ire?"
"You make it sound very tempting, Mahrak," Sharpset said with a chuckle which carried at least some genuine, if grim, amusement.
"I think Mahrak's right." Sharleyan tossed her regal head. "It's not much, but it's the best we can do. And I think we'll probably be able to get away with it. Which may let us stave off disaster for at least a little while. But if the Church is willing to do this to Charis for no better reason than the Grand Inquisitor's temper, then, ultimately, no one is safe. And when Clyntahn doesn't have Charis to suspect anymore, he's going to fasten on someone else, equally far away."
"You may be right, Your Majesty," Green Mountain said heavily. "In fact, you probably are. It's not like we haven't seen this situation building for a long time now, however little we might have expected it all to explode like a powder magazine right this moment. But all we can do is the best we can do."
"I know." Sharleyan sighed again, her expression sad. "You know," she said, almost whimsically, "if I had my choice of who to support, I'd pick Haarahld in a heartbeat. In fact, if I thought he had a single chance of surviving, I'd be very tempted to throw my lot in with his right now, even with the Church on the other side."
"Then perhaps it's just as well he doesn't have a chance of surviving, Your Majesty," Green Mountain said gently. She looked at him, and his smile was as sad as her own had been. "He might have a single chance of beating off this attack, Your Majesty. But ultimately, with the Church against him-?"
