David Weber - How firm a foundation

“Trust me, if there’s anyone in this world who understands that, it’s Empress Sharleyan,” Zhevons said quietly. “I won’t presume to speak for the Empress, but I believe she’ll be as gentle with both Irys and Daivyn as she possibly can.”

“Despite our anti-Sharleyan propaganda in Corisande, that’s what I’d expect, as well,” Coris admitted. “To be honest, it’s one reason I was prepared to approach her and Cayleb in the first place. Although, if I’m going to be completely honest, the fact that they were the only people in the world who might be able to protect my Prince and his sister from the people bent on murdering both of them was an even bigger factor in my thinking.” He smiled humorlessly. “What’s that old saying about any port in a storm? Especially if it’s the only port available?”

“Then I should assume you-and Irys-are willing to accept the conditions I’ve just described?”

“You should,” Coris affirmed. “I’d already warned Irys that Cayleb and Sharleyan would require what you’ve just described at a minimum. Her brother’s all she has left, Master Zhevons. She’s prepared to swallow far worse than that as the price of keeping him alive. In fact-”

He broke off, waving one hand in a dismissing gesture, and Zhevons cocked an eyebrow at him.

“You were about to say something, My Lord?”

“I was going to observe,” Coris said after a long, thoughtful moment, “that from everything I’ve ever learned of Empress Sharleyan, she and Irys have a great deal in common, including an absolute, unswerving determination to avenge their fathers’ murders. I don’t say Irys is going to be prepared to accept Charisian dominion over Corisande, because, frankly, she is her father’s daughter and she’s thinking in terms of protecting her brother’s birthright. But I will say that in so far as she can without prejudicing Daivyn’s claim to the Corisandian throne, she’s probably at least as hungry to see Clyntahn’s blood as any Charisian could possibly be. I think there’s at least the possibility of an… understanding in that.”

“That would be most welcome, My Lord,” Zhevons said frankly. “On the other hand, within the conditions I’ve already described, Their Majesties’ decision stands, whether she and Daivyn are ever prepared to accept an accommodation with the Charisian Crown or not.”

“And, to be honest, those conditions are more generous than I would have anticipated,” Coris admitted. “I’m beginning to suspect that honesty, compassion, and fairness are much more dangerous weapons than most of us duplicitous diplomats have begun to realize even now. Probably because until Emperor Cayleb and Empress Sharleyan came along, we’d had so little exposure to them. It’s going to take a while for us to develop proper immunity to them.”

“Their Majesties do seem to have that effect on people, My Lord,” Zhevons acknowledged with a grin. Then he turned serious again.

“The other message I’m here to deliver is that your proposed plan for getting Irys and Daivyn out isn’t going to work.”

“I realize it’s a little risky,” Coris began, “but I’ve done some preliminary spadework, and-”

“I’m aware of that, My Lord. I’m afraid, however, that both Duke Perlmann and Earl Ashton have been more thoroughly infiltrated by the Inquisition than they realize. I’m also aware that neither of them knows at this point that they’re actually dealing with you or that the ‘two Delferahkan nobles’ you’re trying to sneak out are Irys and Daivyn. Once the hue and cry goes up after you disappear from Talkyra, however, it isn’t going to take either of them long to realize who you-and the children-really are, and at that point even if they don’t decide to hand you over to the Inquisition-which, frankly, I think they probably would-you’re bound to be spotted by the Inquisition and taken into custody.”

“But-” Coris began, his expression worried.

“My Lord, I said your original plan wouldn’t work, not that we can’t get you out,” Zhevons said calmly, and the earl closed his mouth abruptly.

“At this time, a Charisian naval squadron is on its way to Sarmouth,” the seijin continued. “When it arrives there, it will seize the port and spend some time wrecking it from one end to the other. While it’s doing that, a party of Charisian seamen and Marines will take advantage of the confusion and general hullabaloo to head up the Sarm by boat. They should be able to make it all the way to Yarth, and a lot faster than they could make the same trip overland. You’ll meet them in the Sarman Mountains, then travel downriver to the naval squadron, which will deliver you to Tellesberg.”

“That… might work,” Coris said slowly, his eyes thoughtful. “It’s, what, about two hundred and fifty miles from Talkyra to Yardan, isn’t it?”

“By road, yes,” Zhevons agreed. “It’s only about a hundred and eighty miles in a straight line, though. And, frankly, if you try to go by road, they’ll run you down long before you get there. For that matter, they’ll simply send word ahead to Bishop Chermahk in Yardan by semaphore and have him-or Duke Yarth’s armsmen-waiting when you get there.” He shook his head. “You’ll have to go cross-country.”

“That’s going to be hard with a boy Daivyn’s age,” Coris pointed out. “He was a good horseman for his age before we left Corisande, but he’s had very little opportunity to ride since we got here. I think we can deal with that, but none of us know the terrain between here and Yarth.” His expression was worried. “I don’t like the thought of having to recruit a guide on such short notice.”

“That won’t be necessary, My Lord.” Zhevons smiled. “I’m afraid I’m going to be occupied elsewhere, but Their Majesties have decided getting you, Daivyn, and Irys safely to Tellesberg takes precedence over almost anything else. That being the case, they’re prepared to commit whatever resources it takes, and Seijin Merlin’s been on his way here almost since the moment your message arrived in Tellesberg. In fact, he’s probably a lot closer already than you’d believe he could be. You’d be astonished by how quickly he can cover ground when he needs to.”

“ Merlin will be our guide?” Coris repeated very carefully.

“Among other things, My Lord. Among other things.” Zhevons smiled oddly. “I think you’ll find he’s a handy fellow to have around in a lot of ways… and”-the smile disappeared-“he has a remarkably short way with assassins.” .

Sarmouth Keep and HMS Destiny, 54, Sarmouth, Kingdom of Delferahk

“Shit!”

Colonel Styvyn Wahls, Royal Delferahkan Army, clutched wildly at the railing as the entire fortress of Sarmouth Keep seemed to buck under a fresh wash of explosions. He smelled stone dust, powder smoke, wood smoke, blood, and fear, and he shook his head, trying to clear his brain and figure out what the Shan-wei was happening.

He managed to stay on his feet and dragged himself the rest of the way up the internal stair while those infernal guns were reloading. He reached the top of the elevated battery covering the Sarm River estuary and crouched low as he scuttled out towards the dubious shelter of the crenellated battlements.

The sky was salmon and rose in the east, still dark blue in the west, and streaked with blue-gray clouds which hadn’t yet caught the sunlight overhead. The predawn twilight made the blinding fury of the long tongues of flame spurting from the broadsides of the Charisian galleons even more terrifying, and he wondered if that was one of the reasons for their timing.

Bastards have more guts than sense to sail straight up the estuary in the dark, he thought as their royal masts began to catch the dawn light, gleaming golden above the low-lying fog bank of gunsmoke rolling slowly north on the wind blowing in from the sea. The galleons had just enough sail set to hold them motionless against the river’s current while they flailed his fortress with their guns. Damned Charisians! Think they can go any damned where they’ve got three inches of water to sail in!