David Weber - How firm a foundation

“No?” Clyntahn glared at him, jowls tinged with just a hint of the purple which had suffused them earlier. “What about a fucking commander with at least a little guts? ” he snarled. “What about a goddamned navy that remembers it’s fucking fighting for God?! ”

Rayno started to reply, then paused. From the casualty reports he’d read (and which Clyntahn hadn’t gotten to before he’d launched off into his paroxysm of fury), the Desnairian Navy had fought-and died-hard before its final surrender. He thought about pointing out that of the ninety-plus ships with which Jahras had begun the action, the Charisians had kept only thirty-five or forty as prizes. The others had been so badly damaged Rock Point had ordered them burned. That didn’t strike him as the sort of damage a fleet that gave up easily suffered. And Jahras’ after battle report had pulled no punches about the devastating advantage the Charisians’ new ammunition had provided them.

No, there’d been nothing wrong with the fighting spirit of Iythria’s defenders. Not until after Jahras’ surrender, at least. But pointing that out would be… impolitic.

“I trust we have both of those things at Desnair the City, Your Grace,” he said instead. “It is the Empire’s capital city, after all, and the added motivation of fighting under Emperor Mahrys’ own eye should help to stiffen their spines, as well. I know!” He raised a hand quickly as Clyntahn’s eyes flashed. “The fact that they’re fighting under God’s eye should be motivation enough for any man. But you’ve always told me, Your Grace, that we have to allow for men’s inevitable weaknesses, the way their fallen nature leads them to fall short of their duty. I’ve dispatched instructions to Archbishop Ahdym and Bishop Executor Mahrtyn to do all in their power to strengthen the faith and determination of the capital’s defenders, and I’m sure they will. At the same time, though, if there are any purely secular… motivators we can apply, I’m in favor of using them, as well.”

The incipient glare in Clyntahn’s eyes eased slightly under Rayno’s reasonable tone. He continued to stare at the archbishop for a long, simmering moment, but then he shoved himself back in his chair with a choppy nod.

“Point taken,” he said, his own voice once again flat and controlled. “I want Jahras and Kholman, though. They’ve failed Mother Church- betrayed Mother Church-and they have to pay the price.”

“I agree entirely, Your Grace, and I’m already considering possible ways to see that they do. The fact that they’ve cravenly fled to Charis like the cowards they are is going to make it difficult, however.”

In fact, Rayno thought, Baron Jahras and Duke Kholman had displayed prudence, not cowardice, in removing themselves from Clyntahn’s reach. And unless he was mistaken, before their departure they’d done their best to report honestly and accurately-and warningly-on what they’d faced when the Charisian Navy came to call. Best not to make that point just yet, either, though.

“Our inability to operate with any degree of flexibility in Charis is going to work against us, as well,” he continued instead. “At the moment, I don’t think it would be possible to send in any of our agents to deal with them. Getting to them is going to require something like Operation Rakurai, and until we know exactly where the heretics are keeping them, even beginning to plan that kind of mission is going to be… impractical, I’m afraid.”

Clyntahn growled something under his breath, but he also gave another of those jerky nods. In fact, his color seemed to improve a little, and Rayno congratulated himself on having brought up Operation Rakurai. There’d been too little time for any reports to reach Zion yet, so it was impossible to say how well the Rakurai had fared. Clyntahn anticipated a high degree of effectiveness, however, and contemplating that seemed to take at least the worst edge off his fury over Iythria. Of course, if it turned out Operation Rakurai had been a failure, and not a success, his rage would simply return in redoubled force, but as the Writ said, sufficient unto the day was the evil thereof.

“All right,” the Grand Inquisitor said again, after a moment. “I’ll accept that-for now. But I want every member of their families who didn’t flee with them. I want them here, in Zion, Wyllym. All of them, you understand me?”

“Of course, Your Grace.” Rayno bowed slightly across the conference table. “In fact, I’d already anticipated your wishes. I’ve detailed a team of our most reliable inquisitors to oversee the process of taking them into custody.”

“Good,” Clyntahn grunted, then reached out and dragged the battered file away from Rayno.

He opened it, and the archbishop unobtrusively held his breath. This time, however, the Grand Inquisitor didn’t explode. His lips tightened and his brows lowered as he turned through the pages, yet he had himself back under control, and his eyes darted over the sentences of the various reports.

Clyntahn was a very fast reader. Even so, it took him the better part of twenty minutes to work through the file, during which Rayno sat quietly, his expression one of calm, attentive patience. Finally, the Grand Inquisitor finished, slapped the file shut again, and shoved it away from him.

“Well, that’s a fine pile of dragon shit,” he observed in something very like a calm voice. “Jahras was obviously trying to cover his own ass, but I notice his report’s dated before Kholman’s decision to just hand over the entire fucking city. That probably means there’s at least a trace of accuracy in it somewhere.”

“That was my own impression, Your Grace.”

“Well, if there is, we obviously need to push our own development of these ‘shells’ harder. Remind me to kick Allayn in the ass and find out how he’s coming.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

Clyntahn sat silent for another two or three minutes, lips pursed, eyes focused on something only he could see. Then he stirred in his chair once more and refocused his attention on Rayno.

“You know, one of the things that occurs to me is that they went after Iythria, not Desnair the City. I know Jahras had a lot bigger fleet based there, so I suppose it makes sense for them to have gone after it, but Desnair’s only-what?-five hundred miles farther from Tarot than Iythria, and it’s the Desnairians’ capital. And let’s be honest, Wyllym-Desnair’s fortifications aren’t any tougher than Iythria’s were. So surely they had to have been at least tempted to go after the capital first. Think of what a fist in the eye that would have been!”

“I hadn’t really considered that aspect of it, Your Grace.”

Rayno considered adding that one reason he hadn’t was that Iythria had represented well over three-quarters of Desnair’s total shipbuilding capacity. And, for another, the Gulf of Jahras was-or had been, at least-far more important than Desnair Bay from any commercial perspective. With the Gulf under Charisian control, the Desnairian Empire’s internal economy had taken a significant blow which was going to have major consequences in the not so distant future. The psychological impact of an attack on Desnair the City might have been profound, but from a hard-boiled military and economic perspective, there was no comparison between that and the value of the attack the Charisians had actually executed.

And the defection of two of the Empire’s most prominent nobles-one of whom just happened to be the Navy Minister and the other of whom just happened to be the Navy’s commanding officer-is probably a fairly adequate “psychological” substitute for attacking the capital, he reflected sourly.

“Well, it’s obvious to me, ” Clyntahn emphasized the pronoun, “that they went after Iythria first because it’s closer to Silkiah and Siddarmark.”