A Shore Too Far

Chapter 7

Esmir requested a break and asked if she might be lent a tent of her own. When I offered to escort her back to her people, she declined, saying that her place was here now until we had reached an agreement. I imposed upon one of my infantry commanders and, unperturbed, Esmir walked through my men, disappearing into the large tent emptied for her. The men parted for her unthinkingly, and like a boat through still waters, her wake stirred eddies and ripples of conversation and whispers.

As I watched her go, Gonnaban again appeared at my side, but he said nothing and chewed silently on a long piece of grass.

“Their wine is good,” I said at last, for lack of anything more helpful.

“We’ve had word from Pulgatt,” Gonnaban said. “The Kullobrini fleet is deploying more aggressively, pushing our own boys back.”

“Does Pulgatt think they’ll attack?”

“He does. He’s asking your father for permission to attack first. Pulgatt’s up to 120 ships now, but some of those are run by boys with fishing hooks for weapons.” Gonnaban spit out his grass.

“And still no sign of any other Kullobrini fleet?” I asked.

“Nothing. Pulgatt’s even had word from two Dolbiri ships passing through. The Gaping Sea isn’t hiding any more fleets so large they can cover the horizon.”

“How many men would it take to conquer us, Gonnaban?” I asked suddenly.

Gonnaban all but started. He gathered himself and rubbed his chin.

“Ma’am?”

“How many? Or put another way, how many more of their fleets would they need to end us?”

Gonnaban continued to stare at me and then looked slowly to the ground, drawing answers from the well-trod earth.

“By the Low Cauldron, I don’t know. Mabye 150,000? So perhaps four more fleets?”

“Four? This one carried only 25,000 men,” I corrected. “Surely, it would be six more?”

“Begging your pardon, but this one carried civilians as well. Make ’em all soldiers, pack ’em in nice and tight as a good soldier should be and you get four fleets each with 30,000 men,” Gonnaban explained. “Say, you reckon that the civilians on this fleet are administrators? Governors and mayors and the like? For after the invasion?”

“I had not considered that,” I said, thinking. “But, no, it does not explain the children.” I drew my sword slowly and swung it idly back and forth. “And it doesn’t explain why you would land your administrators first. Perhaps we have come at last to the truth.”

“I’ll not hold my breath on that score, if you’ll take me all the same,” said Gonnaban. “And we’re still in the hop with 25,000 well-armed men.”

“We still need a week for the East Guard to get here,” I mused. “Fifty thousand against their twenty-five gives us the day.”

I sheathed my blade slowly, savoring the sound.

“True but most of Prince Eric’s army and ours will be tatters. Our navy will be little more than driftwood. It’ll be ten years before we’re back up to strength and the Haru aren’t likely to wait.”

“Are you saying we should allow the Kullobrini to stay?” I asked.

“No, the fight is still worth it, but we’d be fools not to know the cost of it,” Gonnaban counseled.

“I sent word to Father about Esmir’s true title,” I said.

“Will he come himself, you think, to speak with her? Him or Eric?” Gonnaban asked, kneeling to pick another blade of grass.

“I don’t know,” I said.

Along the road, two little girls were walking. Children of the healers camped to the south, the pair walked hand in hand, stopping occasionally to pick some flower that had yet to be trampled by boot or hoof. Each of the children had a small bouquet painstakingly gathered from the dust.

One of my men bent down in front of the little girls and spoke to them, no doubt advising them to return to their parents’ wagons. One child turned shyly from the soldier and would not look him in the face, but the other stepped forward and chatted boldly with the armored stranger who stopped them in the road. They talked for a few moments, the gentleness of my soldier evident in his expressions and poise. Eventually, both child and soldier laughed and the little girl presented him with a small white flower from her humble collection. The soldier stood and gave a grand bow. The children giggled and turned back south, even the shy one waving as they went.

“It’s going to be a hot one today,” Gonnaban commented, the grass stalk bobbing in his teeth.

The soldier returned to his tent, spinning the flower idly in his fingers.

Esmir had retired early for the night and had not made an appearance even by late morning. As I debated whether to seek her out, I realized that I dreaded our next confrontation, feared a bout with someone who could hide themselves even from Eric.

At noon, Gwey appeared at my tent with a large basket. I glared at him standing in the sun as he peered into the darkness of my tent. Beyond him, sea birds plunged into the waves with a cry and emerged with tiny fish.

“I thought we could share a meal, Princess, if you have time,” he said carefully, gesturing to the maps spread across my war table.

He sported a blue vest and white shirt, but both had suffered under the wear of camp life. Nonetheless, his hair remained carelessly tossed to one side and his smile was fixed but cautious.

“Am I to feast while my men subsist on hard tack and water?” I replied.

“You know full well that your men are fishing or snaring their fill in the woods. Besides,” he said, lifting the basket, “these are not the only treats I had brought up from Abringol. Your men will soon have at least a couple pints of ale each when my wagons get here.”

“You are in a very apologetic mood,” I said, “but that will not change what you did.”

I turned back to the maps.

“Pointedly, nothing will change what I did,” Gwey retorted. Then more softly: “Nothing ever changes what we do. And I’m not here to apologize for my actions; I’m here to apologize for how I made you feel. While I may lack your zeal for the kingdom, you should know that you can trust me.”

I regarded him in the light of the noon sun, his hand shading his eyes so he could see through the dimness that surrounded me. He shifted the basket to a different hand and raised his freed arm to again block out the glare. Outside, I could hear laughter and wondered how many barrels of ale would be needed to sate 20,000 men.

“A meal, then, Gwey,” I said finally, “and you can feel you’ve made an effort and then leave me to the coming fight.”

Gwey entered and set the basket down on the war table. He glanced disapprovingly at its weathered surface and then looked at me.

“You can swallow your discomfort. You are in an army encampment, perhaps on the eve of battle,” I said.

He hesitated and then began setting out our meal.

“Are you convinced of that? Battle, I mean?” he asked, laying out cheeses and soups that sent tendrils of steam roofward.

“It seems close, yes,” I answered, clearing away my maps. “Their lies continue; their sacred Cloth of Blessing was just another ruse so they could dig their fortifications.”

“I had seen.”

“Yes, I forgot how well informed you are,” I said, and his hand paused over a plate of sliced beef before moving on. “And Esmir, the old woman, servant to the princes?”

“Yes, I think I know who you mean. She seemed to have free rein of the place, riding here and there unchecked.”

“With good reason. She is the queen of these people.” I laughed sharply. “Another lie from a lying, grasping people.”

Gwey looked up from the basket. “Queen?” he asked curiously.

“Yes,” I said, reaching for the bread. “She played the servant only to observe us—I suppose to observe me.”

Gwey’s hands rested on the lip of the basket. “Queen…,” he said again.

“Yes, Gwey, queen,” I snapped.

“What I mean is, it’s rather remarkable. I mean, would you do it? Play servant? Sheath your sword and don a kerchief? Bow and scrape before your equals?” Gwey asked.

“These people are liars, Gwey. Clearly, deceit comes naturally to them,” I said. “It’s remarkable they could trust one another enough to run a ship much less build a kingdom. You cannot compare us.”

“You’ve never deceived an enemy, is that it, Kara? Never used spies? I know you’ve played coy with the men in your life.”

My hand clenched into a fist and Gwey smiled and raised his hand in peace.

“We all have our deceptions, for good or for ill, Kara, but this queen is willing to sacrifice a great deal personally for her goals,” Gwey said, taking the last items from the basket.

“As am I, Gwey.”

“Yes, I know,” Gwey said fondly, pausing to look at me.

The scent of the soups’ spices spread throughout the tent, subtly at first but growing stronger.

Gwey set a steaming tureen in front of me.

“We are not two merchants haggling over the price of ale, Gwey,” I said. “We are rulers protecting our kingdoms.”

“Everything is trade,” Gwey said, suddenly serious. “Everything has a cost.” He turned to find a seat and started talking to the air. “You may not fully understand what I do. I doubt very seriously you even fully respect what I do, but I know that those merchants who struggle to lose as little as possible also manage to gain nothing.”

Gwey seated himself across a corner from me and opened his tureen. He stirred his soup slowly, his eyes watching the seabirds outside seek to fill their bills. “What can you gain from the exchange? What can they gain? You can’t forget those questions.”

“And what do you gain from being here?” I asked, irritated at his philosophizing. “Why are you still here? Now?”

He turned from the birds and faced me. His hurt was evident. “I would hope that would be obvious,” he said finally. He did not shift his gaze.

I looked away and found sudden reason to stir my own soup.

“I have been in battle before, Gwey. This is no different,” I said. “Did you cry yourself to sleep when I marched on Karidoo? Or when I pushed back the raiders in north Culling?”

“I don’t cry for much, anymore,” Gwey said in a distant voice, “but it would be short of the truth to say that I didn’t worry those times as well.”

“You should take your horse and return to Abringol,” I said, looking him full in the face. “When things turn ugly here, there will be little enough mercy given to a merchant.”

“If things turn ugly, Kara. If.” He reached for the bread and shot me a mischievous look. “And is that to say you worry for me as well?”

I glared at him while he pointedly ignored me and dropped pieces of bread into his bowl.

“I suppose,” I admitted slowly. “All the more reason you should leave.”

“Alas,” Gwey said, lifting a spoon of soup to his mouth, “I’ll be with you until this matter has been solved. You’ll trust me more, I think, if my loyalty to you earns me a bellyful of arrows.”

“A lot of good my trust will do you dead,” I reminded him.

“Yes,” he granted, “but I might get a line or two in the song about the battle. Or maybe a nice poem?”

“They do not write songs about merchants, Gwey,” I said.

He sipped his soup and reacted visibly to the taste.

“They do when you’ve bought the winning side a hundred barrels of ale.”

He took another spoonful of soup.

“By blazes, this soup is good.”

In the afternoon, my infantry commander reported that Esmir was walking among our camps. I climbed the lookout hill and after a few minutes had found her strolling among my men like an herbalist checking her plants. Her ring flashed in the sun, plain for the less scrupulous soldier to see, but her demeanor alone would keep her safe. Even from that distance, I could tell the men fell hushed when she approached; some even stood awkwardly and bowed. I sent my infantry commander to escort her and provide for her needs.

I turned and looked at the tent city. Kullobrini soldiers still manned the earthworks, though the fatigue of constant duty showed in their shoulders. Waiting was ever the worst of war.

Between tents and the long bows that hung from the soldiers’ backs, I could still glimpse children playing in the cloth-bordered avenues. I wondered what they made of the great pit that surrounded them or of the great bank of earth that had grown teeth in one night. What do liars tell their children when the lie becomes too big to hide?

I had returned to my tent and had worked in silence for an hour or more when a shadow from the setting sun fell across my table. Gonnaban’s face hung at the door and his expression told me to follow.

“I know you’ve thought as I have that we could starve the Kullobrini out. Surround them and just wait for them to surrender,” he said as he led me around the lookout hill.

“Yes, though we’ll still need the East Guard to hope to contain them for that to work,” I answered, trying to read his face. “And we know they came prepared since we now understand why they bought so much food in Kulkerra.”

“Well, not that it should surprise us, but they’re not to be outsmarted,” Gonnaban said as we rounded the hill.

The flat expanse between the two forces stretched to the sea, the scrub and small wood long since flattened by feet or taken for kindling. Beyond, two Kullobrini civilian ships bobbed against the dock while cart after cart of fish were rolled into the tent city. Firewood, too, stood mounded on both the dock and the ships’ decks. Trim Kullobrini horses slid heavy drays loaded with wood into the cloth embrace of thousands of tents. Beyond, heading to dock, two more civilian ships approached, no doubt carrying similarly precious cargo.

“They didn’t push Pulgatt back as some sort of military tactic,” I said. “They just wanted ample fishing.”

Gonnaban laughed in disbelief and ran both hands through his graying hair. “As little as we can do to stop ’em, we might as well offer to help with the cooking.” He kicked the ground. “Pulgatt doesn’t have a prayer of getting around that navy and stopping them. By the Low Cauldron, the fish have a better chance of stopping them than we do.”

“Maybe we should recruit the fish,” I said and looked at Gonnaban.

He studied me incredulously for a long moment. I regarded him steadily, but eventually I could not go on. My composure broke and I laughed.

Gonnaban doubled over and slapped his knee. Still laughing, I reached to straighten him before our lookouts could spread rumor of our drunkenness. We gathered ourselves and wiped our eyes as we turned back toward the encampment.

Before the sun had set completely, we had reports both from Pulgatt and our northernmost scouts. Pulgatt confirmed that a handful of Kullobrini ships near shore were seen fishing and no doubt others beyond the horizon were also doing so. He retracted his insistence to attack.

The scouts to the north had had themselves received reports from northern villages that observed Kullobrini vessels landing timber parties on relatively unoccupied stretches of the coast.

“Raids!” Gonnaban had cried at the news. “Of all the nerve!”

“I’m hardly outraged at the felling of trees, Gonnaban,” I said. “But as sparse as those villages are to the north, the Kullobrini could hit them at will while still holding Pulgatt off. We could be forced to send troops to protect them.”

Gonnaban nodded. “Then let’s evacuate them. Send a hundred of our horsemen to empty the villages and put them in the forts. Half a week’s work at least, but it will give the forts more manpower, ill-trained though it may be, and the Kullobrini can spend their time burning empty buildings.”

“Those empty buildings will be somebody’s homes,” I said, suddenly somber. “A family’s, a married couple’s, who knows?”

Gonnaban stopped short of the lookout hill and I turned to face him.

“I simply mean that we will be taking people from their homes,” I explained.

“I know, ma’am,” Gonnaban said. “I understand full well.”

Just after dark, I stood upon the lookout hill and watched the pattern of campfires light the Kullobrini grounds. Understandably, they had been rationing their firewood and with a newfound abundance, Eglanna and Eldrazz must have permitted the people a chance for excess. We could hear music and singing as smoke climbed above the tents and rose to the stars. I thought how much like my joke with Gonnaban such celebrations can be for a people, some way to shake off the dark and breathe against the night. Gwey was kind to give the men ale.

Before I walked back down toward my tent, a change came to the air such that even the sentries atop with me took notice.

Esmir and my infantry commander stood at the bottom of the hill, Esmir’s serenity and presence palpable even in the dark.

“I thought we might dine together, if you haven’t eaten,” she began. “I even have a few glasses of that wine left.”

“I’m not sure what fare you might expect, Majesty,” I said, making my way down toward her. “I do not bring an entourage as other nobles might.”

“Your commander here insists that he could procure for us some fresh venison and wild onions,” Esmir said, nodding toward her escort. “With a pot and a fire, I believe one of our many problems is solved.”

I looked to my commander and nodded.

He saluted and melted into the camp in search of ingredients fit for a general and a queen.

I gestured in the direction of my tent, now lost in a field of canvas and a sky of stars.

“I remember the first time I saw my father march for war,” Esmir said as we picked our way through campfires and empty ale barrels. “My people believe that an army can be successful only if the queen shows the men some small amount of her blood.”

“And did you bleed for your men before you left your camp?” I asked.

Esmir looked up at me and smiled but simply continued. “My mother stood on a dais before 60,000 men and pierced her hand. When the men responded, the roar was like the heart of a storm.”

We moved past a cavalryman walking his horse in circles, trying to suss out a limp.

Esmir broke from me and approached the horse. She reached out and the soldier passed her the reins. She stroked the horse’s muzzle gently, over and over.

“Your horses are so lovely,” she said quietly.

“Hardly the long-shanked beasts you brought with you,” I said.

“Speed has its place,” Esmir said, walking around the horse, “but precision just as much. See how she stands for him? How she knows that she’s cared for?” She patted the horse’s rump affectionately and handed the reins back to the rider. “All trust comes down to knowing that someone knows that you’re valuable. It is a long lesson.”

Esmir made her way back to me.

“Is your tent far?” she asked, still looking at the horse. “I’m afraid I’ve lost my way.”

Some minutes later, Esmir and I were seated in camp chairs around a bubbling pot. The bits of venison and onion tumbled over one another, their steam hovering like a fog. Esmir stirred the pot constantly and chatted about the challenges of a good stew. Increasingly, I became aware of how disarming she could be.

“Your people cannot stay on our soil,” I said.

Esmir did not stop stirring.

“And why not?” she asked, watching the froth and roil of meat.

“This is not your land,” I said, exasperated. “You cannot simply disembark where you please and impose yourself upon the compassion of others.”

“Do you imprison beggars here?” Esmir asked. “I know they do in Gyrtar and some of the other Sand Republics, but what of here?”

“No,” I said cautiously, “we do not.”

“And why not?” she asked, lifting the pot higher off the fire to slow the boil. She plopped back in her seat and looked through the steam at me.

“Many of them have no choice in being beggars,” I said. “Some turn of fate has pushed them from fortune. A death, an illness, a failed farm…”

“Then why is it so hard to accept that fate pushed us to your shores?” Esmir asked. “Why not let us join your people in a fashion?”

“You are not beggars,” I exclaimed. “What beggars have such a fleet? What beggars land an army and expect a coin in their cup? Except that you do not ask for coin, do you? You ask for land and that we forgive the boldness of a foreign army on sovereign soil. What next? Shall we build you a city?”

“In time,” Esmir replied, “that is exactly what I propose.”

“Nine Fathers,” I whispered to the sky, shaking my head.

“You wanted us to be truthful, did you not?” Esmir asked. “We cannot leave and we cannot live forever in tents. With your permission, we will build a city here.”

Esmir waited patiently for an answer, her eyes only darting occasionally to the now-simmering pot.

“And is this fate, too?” I asked. “That you carve a city from my father’s land just as you carved your fortifications?”

“Yours is the only land fertile enough to support so many beggars, General,” Esmir said. “Shore after shore that we could see was either too mountainous, too near the Northmen, or too arid. What else but fate could bring us here? We did not know where we would land, but fate knew.”

“You’re a liar.”

The voice was from the shadows and we both turned to find it.

Gonnaban sat on his haunches in the dark, his head bowed as he drew designs in the dirt.

“You’re a liar,” he said again, with an edge to his voice that I had never heard.

“You—,” Esmir began.

“You’re a liar,” Gonnaban repeated, standing and taking a step toward the small, dark woman.

Esmir’s cheeriness was gone and she rose abruptly and took a step back from my heavyset master-at-arms.

“I will not—,” Esmir protested, backing further.

“You’re a liar,” Gonnaban continued, now having nearly reached the circle of light cast by the fire.

I moved to Gonnaban quickly and put a hand on his shoulder. Esmir was now in the shadows and Gonnaban’s eyes held her there.

“The classes,” Gonnaban said, glancing at me and returning his eyes to his quarry. “They’ve always bugged me. You’ve been teaching our language to your people, even the little ones. And you and your fine sons speak it without a hitch. Even their advisor can talk Avandi as pretty as you please.”

Esmir tried to hold Gonnaban’s gaze.

“Fate didn’t bring you here,” Gonnaban charged. “Your land is more than a month by boat, which means you’ve been planning this for more than a month. Fact is you’ve known long enough about where you were going that you had to have your folks ready with the language. You probably even had the landing place picked out, which means you’ve been scouting for months.”

“That’s—,” Esmir tried again, but Gonnaban would not be stopped, not by reason, not by royalty.

“I had wondered why fate didn’t take you nearer the capital or just south where the best farmland is. Because too near the capital would appear too threatening, right? And the best farmland means lots of folks who might object. But here? Eric’s north country is fair farmland but not too many people to feel threatened by your landing. We might give in eventually. You’ve not only scouted this area, you gathered news. How’s the farming? How big’s the population? Who’s in charge? You probably have reports on each nation you could reach by sea and ours was the only one that fate could bring you to.” He nearly spat the word. “You’re a liar.”

“Gonnaban,” I said gently.

I felt the tension in him pass.

“Sorry, ma’am.” He looked again at Esmir, cowed in the darkness. “If fate intends it, I’ll go on half-rations again.”

He nodded to me and stalked off into the night.

Esmir straightened somewhat and made a cautious approach back to her seat.

She sat for a moment looking into the fire. Abruptly she stood and lifted the pot from the heat, setting it on a little circle of stones.

“He’s right, of course,” she said, stirring the stew.

I slowly returned to my seat but kept my eyes on Esmir.

“We have known about this province, about its troubles and rulers, about you, for weeks.” She glanced at me to gauge my reaction. “My oldest son, Abrunda, has taken my throne. He was always so charismatic.” She smiled sadly. “He had returned from a campaign to the west; 120,000 shining, victorious men flushed with battle. The people cheered him as he passed through their villages. Sometimes he would stop in a village and build a bridge in a day or some fortification overnight for his adoring people.” She returned to stirring. “As it turned out, he was also building support for a coup. And by the time he reached the capital, he had it.”

Esmir looked again into the fire but reached out for my bowl.

I fumbled a moment and passed it to her.

She ladled the mixture in carefully, stopping to add a choice onion or bit of meat.

“He surrounded the capital, his ranks swollen to 160,000 and demanded my crown,” Esmir continued, poking at bits of meat in the pot. “Eldrazz was to the north, Elganna to the south, divided and neither with enough force. I stepped down and was placed under house arrest in Innifor, a beautiful coastal city. The cries of the sea birds are like wind chimes,” she said, closing her eyes, “and the breeze would lull you at night.”

“House arrest? Your sons cleaved from you?” I asked. “How did you come here?”

“Pride,” she said. “I secretly gathered my forces, trying to unite the outer provinces in restoring me to my throne, but soon Eglanna was captured, his army slaughtered. Eldrazz was caught at one of his palaces. Not long after, 80,000 men surrounded Innifor promising to feed its ashes to the seabirds.”

“You negotiated. For their lives,” I surmised.

“Yes, and those of my most loyal followers. Abrunda was happy to see my military supporters leave as it reduced trouble in the ranks, though he still had enough force to crush us unless we returned with an unimaginable army. Others of my people joined the fleet out of love or out of fear of reprisal if they stayed.”

“And now here you are,” I said.

“Yes,” Esmir replied, her dark face contemplating the stew, “here we are.”

Somewhere in the camp, someone ran a stone down a long blade. Over and over again, the metal rang as the stone passed again and again.

Esmir dipped her own food slowly. “Perhaps, it was not fate that brought us here, General, but we are beggars all the same.”

The unseen soldier spit on his blade, cleared his throat, and spit again. A moment later the stone again ran along the blade, over and over and over.