David Drake - Master of the Cauldron

Under the brassy cacophony, Sharina heard the faint, rhythmic music of a double flute being played in the stern of each vessel, marking time for the rowers. Garric transported his army in warships, triremes with oarsmen in only the lowest level and ordinary soldiers filling the other two. It was horribly uncomfortable, but a sailing ship packed with troops wasn't a palace suite either-and a sailing ship might find itself becalmed for days and weeks. That was a minor frustration for the crew of a cargo vessel, but it could be lethal when hundreds of passengers had water for only a day, and that if rationed sparingly.

In addition, oared vessels travelled at known speeds, arriving when they were expected regardless of any weather except severe storms. If the wind was favorable, so much the better; but man, not the elements, determined the voyage. No captain of a sailing ship would make that claim, even in drunken exhilaration.

"May the Shepherd stand at your side, brother," Sharina said, though she wasn't sure the words made it all the way from her mind to her tongue. "May the Lady shine her light through the darkness to guide you."

She stepped to Tenoctris' side. When the old wizard smiled greeting and raised her right hand, Sharina braced her own arms to allow Tenoctris to pull herself up from the ground.

"I wasn't religious until Nonnus died to save me," Sharina said in a quiet voice. Tenoctris had known the hermit, though only for a few days. Nonnus had settled in the woods near Barca's Hamlet at about the time Sharina was born. He'd provided the community with the sort of practical medicine he'd learned as soldier. "I'm not sure I'm really religious now, but… I think he'd be pleased that I worship the Lady."

"Yes," said Tenoctris, understanding a great deal more than Sharina had said. Understanding, perhaps, that Nonnus might not really have believed in the Great Gods either, but he'd hoped, prayed, that They might be real. If They were, there was someone to forgive him for theother things he'd learned and done as a soldier. "I think he would too."

Six Blood Eagles in full armor strode up to Sharina and Tenoctris. Their officer, an under-captain-what in a line regiment would be a lieutenant-shouted, "Halt!"

The squad clashed to a halt, raising their knees high to bang their hobnails on the stony soil and making the studs of their leather skirts jingle against one another. Besides their arms, each man carried his travelling cloak rolled over a few personal possessions and slung over his right shoulder.

"We'll take over from here," the under-captain said, handing the senior of the present guards a chit written on a piece of potsherd. Sharina remembered the officer and some of his men, though she couldn't put names to them. So many soldiers had guarded her since she became a princess…

One of the soldiers lifted his chin a trifle in greeting. Sharina recognized the men now: they were the squad that'd escorted her to the Temple of Our Lady of Sunset in Carcosa, where the priests had thought they'd turn Sharina into a cynical politician like they were.

"Trooper Lires!" Sharina said in pleasure. "And you're Under-captain-"

"Ascor, your highness," the officer said, obviously pleased that she remembered him. "We were honored that his highness Prince Garric detailed us to accompany you and Lady Tenoctris."

Ascor was neither a nobleman nor a grizzled veteran who'd been promoted from the ranks after decades of hard fighting. From his accent, Sharina guessed he was a younger son of a middle-class merchant family in Valles: an educated man though not particularly wealthy, supported by the influence of some civilian like Lord Tadai rather a military officer.

"Accompany?" Sharina said. "To Valles, you mean?"

"Yes, your highness," Ascor said. "And it looks-"

He nodded past Sharina. She glanced over her shoulder. A young officer with the ivory baton of a courier trotted toward them from the group around Lord Waldron.

"-like it's time to board."

Tenoctris closed her satchel; Sharina picked it up without being asked. "Let's go, then," Sharina said. "I must say-"

She looked around Volita, the tumbled ruins everywhere and the black granite outcrop lowering over the shore.

"-that there are places I've more regretted leaving."

"I can carry that bag, your highness," Trooper Lires said as they started forward.

Sharina smiled at the heavily-laden soldier. "I'm sure you could," she said. "But not nearly as easily as I can."

The courier reached them. "Lord Waldron presents his compliments," he blurted, "and hopes your highness will follow me to the flagship at your earliest convenience!"

"If you weren't standing in our way, kiddie," one of the Blood Eagles said, "we'd likely be there already. Move it, why don't you?"

The courier glowered, then realized that even though a common trooper shouldn't be talking to an officer that way, the statement was more or less true. "Right!" he said and turned back the way he'd come.

"I'm fine," Tenoctris said, catching the glance Sharina threw her as they followed the courier. "I've been trying again to learn what's happened to Cashel and Ilna."

"Did you succeed?" Sharina said. The slope was gentle, but the footing here could be awkward because stone blocks were scattered in the high grass.

"Not really," the wizard admitted. "Though I'm sure that Ilna's disappearance had something to do with the Demon, but Cashel's didn't. That's only useful in the sense that it means they weren't victims of a concerted attack. It doesn't help us bring them back."

"We will, though," Sharina said. Her stomach tightened at the thought, but she kept her tone bright. "Or they'll bring themselves back. They have in the past."

"Yes, that's so," Tenoctris said, cheerfully agreeable. Sharina wondered whether the older woman was just concealing her fears; and if she was, whether she could teach Sharina to conceal her own equally well.

The courier took them to where the army commander stood, but there he halted in indecision. Lord Waldron was facing away, saying in a rising voice, "Look, Master Bedrin, I may need a full hour to get all the men aboard. I'm not asking you, I'm telling you!"

"Looks to me like he'll need longer than that," Trooper Lires snickered, to his fellows and to Sharina both. "He's taking Podwils' regiment. They was cavalry till Prince Garric wouldn't bring their horses along when they left Ornifal. It'd have been easier to get the horses aboard than them splay-legged jockeys!"

The comment wasn't completely fair-there was a great deal of rivalry between infantry and the higher-paid cavalrymen, and the fact that these infantry were the royal bodyguard didn't change the ill-feeling for the better. On the other hand, it wasn't completely unfair either. The men climbing the gangplanks onto the ships were hampered by long cavalry swords, and many of them were in high horseman's boots as well. From what Sharina could see, most had more than the bare minimum of possessions with them also, which would further complicate the process of loading.

"Well, I'm sorry, milord," said the man facing him, presumably Master Bedrin. He didn't sound in the least sorry. From his attitude it was obvious that Bedrin was a fleet officer and therefore not under the army commander's direct control. "If we can't set out within the hour, we'll have to wait till dawn tomorrow. Otherwise we're likely to be benighted in a stretch of shoals, which I'm unwilling to risk."

It seemed to Sharina that Bedrin would've been wiser to keep the cheerful insouciance out of his voice. The chain of command was one thing, but the way Lord Waldron's hand rested on his sword pommel was quite another. The old warrior wasn't a man you wanted to goad into a rage.

"You'renot willing?" Waldron said. "We'll, you'd-"