A Shore Too Far

Chapter 3

We watched our strange visitors for more than an hour as they made use of the all but abandoned quay. The hill stood more than a quarter mile from the quay, but our visitors’ lanterns provided enough light to overcome the distance.

The great ships that had been so long rumored were easily equal to the stories and twice the size of any vessel our ship-knowing soldiers had ever seen. The vessels varied from great galleons to smaller merchant or perhaps fishing vessels, but all dwarfed the finest and most modern craft our cavalrymen could remember. Two by two, the ships would reach the quay and quickly unload cargo and passengers by lantern light and then set sail for the outer bay to make room for the next pair.

None of this was as startling, however, as our demons’ appearances. Their skin was dark. Not merely the darker tones of the Dolbiri, some weathered beige of a sea-going folk, but black as cold iron, a color from myth and story, and it came pouring by the thousands from a magical fleet.

Whatever the explanation for their skin, these creatures had the apparel of a varied people. While some wore the rich garb of royalty or the fatted aristocracy, others wore the clothes of the workman or the day-to-day merchant. Yet others were clearly warriors or some form of soldier, and their weapons glinted in the lantern light just as their skin did not.

Still, these creatures knew no fashion of our shores. Sleeves tended to widen toward the hands and often in many folds. Many of the men and women alike sported headgear of cunningly carved wood adorned with flowers and wreaths. The women who wore gowns had long tassels that brushed the ground or hung from pleats across the middle of the back.

Another oddity presented itself when they unloaded their mounts. Fully two or three hands taller than our steeds, these horses were long limbed and long backed. When they were allowed to gallop toward a makeshift corral, the beasts devoured the distance at a speed undreamt of by our best stallions. Even after being atrophied on ships for however long, the muscles of these beasts still rippled beneath shining coats.

Oddly, or perhaps unkindly, we began to feel more at ease when these visitors began unloading what appeared to be their sick and injured. Dozens were so ill they had to be carried off, and hundreds more were helped to walk to the growing city of brightly colored tents that stretched inland. In all, we could only guess at numbers in the thousands, and even then we each found ourselves being drawn to the dark skin that made them particularly sharp silhouettes against the light from lanterns and torches.

“Shades,” Gonnaban said, shaking his head and gazing at the ground. “Demons. I have a lot more sympathy for that Dolbiri merchant now.”

“Keep your head,” Eric snapped. “What disease can strike down a demon? What need do demons have for horses, however strange the beasts might be? They might be unbelievable to look at, but these are no creatures from the Low Cauldron.”

“You’ll need a better argument than that, sir, if you wish to sway the common soldiers,” Gonnaban offered.

Eric turned on Gonnaban savagely and spoke, his jaw clenched. “I don’t need arguments, Master-at-Arms. I give orders.”

“Of course, Highness,” said Gonnaban quickly.

I had rarely seen Eric so rattled and guessed that our visitors’ appearance had unsettled him more than he wished to admit.

“What is your feeling, brother?” I asked. “What do you make of them?” I pushed him to find calm in answers, in a way forward, a process my father had observed in Eric years ago.

He gathered himself and turned to the hill as though he could see through it to our growing group of strange settlers.

“A book I read ages ago in the halls at Turning Down suggested that a people who lived on mountains sufficiently high might be so close to the sun as to be burned—or at least have that appearance.” He shrugged. “Or perhaps it’s some form of paint they adopt for sea travels, not unlike the Dolbiri face paint for their religious festivals. An act for good luck.” He steadied himself again and faced us directly, forcefully. “But whatever the reason for that black skin, no demon tends the sick and no demon bothers with the clothing of the rich or the warrior.” He pointed energetically through the hill. “However strange, these are a people.”

He had found his way; he had thought his way through his frustration and fear.

“What are your plans, Highness? Shall we ride forth and meet them?” I asked.

Eric’s eyes moved again to the base of the hill and studied what dust and brush lay there. He walked quickly toward our horses and turned again to us. “Gonnaban, you and the men have seen the size of their ships and you’ve seen that some of their folk are soldiery and some are not. What does it mean for our estimates?”

Gonnaban glanced at his four ship experts.

“I’d say if the pattern holds to what we’ve seen, then more than 50,000 people, but hopefully only 30,000 trained fighters. I’d like to know more about what of that will be cavalry, particularly with the steeds we’ve seen, but that’s what we can say so far.”

The other cavalrymen nodded in agreement.

Eric nodded as well, and he looked at me and held my gaze, trying to read my impressions. It was at times like these that I felt my pride in my family. Eric, steady, thorough, and careful, saw me as a general whose opinion shaped and forged his own.

“We go back to the city,” he said at last. “But we will return here at first light—and in full diplomatic regalia…and with our 5,000 cavalry. We will take their measure across the table.”

Eric nodded to himself, seemingly satisfied that he had considered everything. Without another glance in our direction, he moved to his horse.

***** ***** *****

Three hours later put us reaching the outskirts of Abringol. Before we had moved far from our secretive hill south of the quay, Eric had sent our four sea-loving cavalrymen to the beaches to spy on the fleet with the farlook. Our men reported that some of the larger galleons were fanned out in an arc protecting the rest of the fleet. Admiral Pulgatt’s ships had moved to within sight and had fanned out in a pattern similar to the guest’s ships. The demons’ ship count remained close to two hundred, perhaps a touch more, still far more than our own navy, even at the height of its numbers some years ago.

“And with fore and aft castles that high,” said one cavalryman, “our sailors will be facing a hail of arrows before they could get near enough to board. And that’s setting aside if those ships launch Sea Fire, like our boys.”

Eric merely nodded and glanced at me as we rode.

When we approached the palace gate ablaze with torchlight, we saw an aglindor, one of my father’s royal messengers, sitting atop a mount still steaming from the road. He had his back to us as is the custom. In olden days, these messengers were corrupted and used as assassins against both the king and his enemies. Tradition now demanded that an aglindor put his back to his intended recipient to await the approach. Even with that precaution in place, it was rare that a messenger was approached by the recipient himself. Gonnaban rode to meet the aglindor and called forth Eric’s title. Gonnaban returned promptly with the small golden cylinder that bore the royal seal and my father’s message.

The cavalry took position around the aglindor and they entered the palace ahead of us. They were well out of sight by the time Eric and I dismounted. My brother was already scanning the parchment rolled inside the messenger’s cask. He finished quickly while nodding to himself and then chuckled.

“Father has guessed our deployment plans. He’s gathering the Central Guard. They’ll be ready in two days, but still three days’ march from Abringol,” he said, a strange glint in his eye. He moved toward me and put his hand on my shoulder. “And he wants you to speak for the kingdom.”

“I—I am a general. Your hammer, should you choose to use it. These are your provinces,” I protested. “You must serve as our father’s voice.”

Eric’s eyes held no resentment, no accusation, which was strange given the recent tensions that still hung between us. Again, I reminded myself that there are currents in Eric I have never been able to see, eddies that rise to my view only when he wished.

“We have our father’s voice here,” he said, raising the parchment to view, “and you shall be its instrument.”

He smiled again and left me in the torch-lit courtyard, shadows playing in the tiny cracks and crevices of the cobblestones.

After only a few hours’ rest, I sat on a horse north of Abringol, my 5,000 cavalry stirring in the dark. Viewed from outside the city, the lights of Abringol moved and winked with the eerie motion of distant lives. A light carried by a palace guard made its slow way across some unknown palace wall. The mast lights of the ships still anchored in the bay moved faintly with the waves and roll of the water. A pair of lights left the city and made their way toward our camp.

Through the horse-scented air of the wee hours, I could hear Gonnaban barking orders, and I thought of the road ahead. What little sleep there was time for was soon to be held at bay by the pounding of three hours’ of brisk riding, and then we would see what manner of visitors our dark neighbors truly were. Clearly, the rumor had spread quickly among the men that we rode to face a host of unknown creatures, and now the men muttered among themselves as though worried with the news of half rations. As I rode again across the ranks, I felt their eyes only dare to glance, perhaps fearing I would confirm the whispers about an invasion by black creatures that arrived on impossible ships.

I signaled to my two cavalry colonels, and they rode to my side. I nodded to the lights approaching us from Abringol.

“Prince Eric and his attendants,” I said, watching the lights swing up the road toward the scrub wood at our backs.

“Yes, ma’am,” my officers muttered.

“Bring the men to attention.”

Scouts had been sent along the road hours earlier and awaited our approach to rejoin us. If there was trouble ahead, we had done all we could to be ready.

The vanguard of Eric’s group could be seen now by the light of their own lanterns. Moments later, Eric, with his personal guard and attendants, grew clearly out of the darkness.

Gonnaban led his horse to my side. He looked out at the approaching party.

“Won’t be long now,” he said.

Gonnaban rode one of the short-muzzled horses of my mother’s people, a horse known more for endurance than speed. He called the mare Henra, a word that in my mother’s tongue meant a painful lump on the buttock.

Eric’s group rode up, his guard making way to allow him to ride to me. His ceremonial armor shone in the torchlight.

“Ambassador,” he greeted me, nodding his head.

“Your Highness,” I replied, biting my tongue.

“I offer you the services of two of my translators.” Eric motioned to two men behind him, both wearing rich robes and sashes of accomplishment. “And I bring word from my castellan, a thought that had not occurred to me when we spied on our guests yesterday.”

“Yes, my prince?”

“If this were an invasion, why the civilian ships? The merchant vessels and so on. Surely, the more logical possibility is that this is a caravan escorted by naval vessels.”

“A very important caravan then,” said Gonnaban.

“No,” I said. “If the caravan were so important, then they wouldn’t be emptying their ships. Either the valuable goods are ashore and vulnerable, or they are on a ship protected by vessels manned by skeleton crews and therefore just as vulnerable.”

“Unless the sickness we saw is spreading,” Eric replied. “That may have driven them to shore.”

“What’s so valuable it takes two hundred ships, a navy by all rights, to protect it?” asked Gonnaban.

Eric and I looked at each other.

“Your Highness, I think we should be on our way,” I said finally.

Eric looked again at me, then back at Abringol where the lights continued to move in the darkness. He turned back slowly.

“Of course,” he said.

In minutes, we were riding. Eric’s vanguard rode with his banners at the front followed by a cavalry vanguard of 500 of our combined men. Eric, Gonnaban, and I rode amid his personal guard while the rest of the cavalry pounded behind us.

“I know that look, General!” Gonnaban shouted over the hoof falls. “What have we all missed?”

We passed into the scrub wood, a thick tangle of brush and tree, leaf and limb.

“What lies north of this dark fleet?” I cried.

Gonnaban thought a moment.

“A few more villages, then Adubria, those rolling hills south of the mountains, then the mountains themselves.”

“And our forts!” I shouted. “This disease-ridden caravan has blocked the main route needed to support our forts against an attack.”

Gonnaban’s mouth hung open.

“When we stop, Gonnaban, send a rider to the East Guard,” I cried. “Tell them to send half their force north to the forts.”

Gonnaban nodded mutely and turned his attention slowly back to the road.

Our journey was largely uneventful. Periodically, we would encounter a pair of our scouts and receive a hurried and largely uninteresting report as we again picked up speed. Only as we neared our low-lying hill did the reports vary: individuals from the fleet were trading with most of the nearby farms, usually for food and whole cloth. Whether caravan or invasion, they paid in a strange gold coin and could speak our language, however accented. One other point was more ominous. Our low-lying hill was now their low-lying hill and used for much the same purpose: as a lookout that could also hide cavalry.

“There’s no point in approaching stealthily,” Eric argued. “Their watchmen will see our dust a mile before we’re within sight ourselves.”

“So much the better,” grumbled Gonnaban, “if it means answering these questions.”

He had already sent riders to the East Guard, as well as four more to circumvent our visitors and to get word from the forts themselves. If an attack were underway, we would be forced to choose between leaving the forts to defend themselves or leaving Abringol at the mercy of the strangers. A part of me admired the cunning of the plan, but another part warned that we didn’t even know if a plan existed and only chance had delivered these demons to our shores.

“And if there’s no stratagem here, no invasion,” Eric had said when we told him of our fears, “then for nothing we will have sent part of your East Guard to camp in the upper north, where the plague was fiercest.”

I had no response for him. Soldiers were meant to die, whether a lowly footman or his High General. A soldier pays his debts with blood, no matter the rank. Instead, I sent a rider to my father asking that his troops be positioned to defend Abringol. It would take a day to deliver the message and another two or three before Father’s Central Guard could reach the city. Meanwhile, a potential enemy lay three hours north of one of our largest cities and our most important port.

With all this in motion, time was drawing close to parley with the dark fleet. With our vantage point taken over, we quickly arrayed ourselves to ride directly to the outskirts of their encampment. The 500-man vanguard became our entire escort while Gonnaban stayed behind with the rest of the men. As we neared, we sent several pairs of cavalry to gather information from the countryside and watch the north and east sides of our visitors’ temporary quarters.

Resuming our trot, we approached our former spy post. If soldiers were watching, they were expertly hidden. As we passed, however, a small band of perhaps fifty dark-skinned cavalry came into view behind the little ridge. My own forces strung themselves out to the rear, providing an earlier defense against the dark horsemen. Our visitors’ cavalry made no move toward us.

A vast sprawl of tents was a blaze of color in the early morning light. Those few hundred tents of last night had grown to several thousand, and the smells of morning meals and foreign spices carried on the breeze. The main road had been left uncovered, but tents bordered it to either side and stretched for miles until the horizon was cloth roofs and the smoke of cooking fires. The few original houses of the village peeked over a sea of tents, and each house had space left around it out of, I hoped, a sense of neighborliness. A swath of red cloth fifteen feet wide lay on the ground and surrounded the massive group of tents. I noticed that the dark-skinned denizens stepped gingerly around it.

Two ships were moored at the quay, vessels larger and grander than any we had seen before, ships that dwarfed the single dock jutting out into the water. Guards stood at the foot of each ship’s gangplank.

As we drew nearer the tents, we could see children darting in and out of the spaces between them. Their laughter came to us over the sound of the waves. Periodically, mothers came out of tents and shouted stern warnings.

“Children? What sense does that make of our theories?” Eric asked the salt-scented air.

“It at least confirms that they are not all soldiers,” I said. “If we must fight them, we know they will be burdened with protecting panicked civilians.”

“True, General,” Eric said simply.

“Those tents will offer little protection from our arrows,” I continued. “Some well-placed fires would do good damage and draw their troops from the fight. We’ll still need the East Guard to hem them in and finish the job, but it’s not beyond our doing.”

Some of the children began to point or cry out at our approach, but no doubt our presence had already been signaled by the watch on the hill. In short order, a group of seven ebony riders emerged onto the main road. All were male save what appeared to be a young girl and an old woman. Three men rode at the front of the group. Two, a lean, tall one and a short, powerfully built one, wore expensive clothes of red crushed velvet. The third was older and sported a thick beard at his chin. He wore black and silver and carried an ornate shield, broad and blazing with two silver quills crossed at its center. All the men carried some form of sword, but of a make I had never seen, and all had close-cropped hair as black as their skin. They rode easily at a trot on the graceful horses we had seen offloaded.

Our group came to a stop and, at a nod from Eric, four of our lead cavalrymen produced royal horns and blasted out a note that momentarily silenced the sea. Another note went out and billowed across the rising hills. The four lowered their trumpets and rode forth to announce Eric.

“Prince Eric Asgrand, governor of this province and those of Pennett and Kee, seeks audience with your leader that he may explain your unwarranted presence on sovereign land.”

The seven riders from the tents reigned in fifty feet from our trumpeters. The leaner of the three lead riders moved forward.

“I am Captain Eglanna Ujor,” cried the leaner one, “and I will answer his majesty, may he hear us in mercy.”

In a few minutes, we were seated at a table brought from the tents. Eric’s attendants raised a small, unwalled tent over the table and were soon pouring wine for our side. The young girl and old woman then took the bottles and served their masters.

“A good wine by its nose, or I’m no judge,” chirped the old servant with only a slight accent, her eyes wide and kind, her smile warm and ready.

“Please, Esmir, keep your chatter to yourself,” Captain Eglanna chided gently. His accent, too, was only slight.

I found myself staring at Eglanna and his companions. Repeatedly, I had to occupy myself with my wine or murmur some triviality in Eric’s ear to break my gaze. To my relief, my fascination with them was reciprocated. More than once, Captain Eglanna’s eyes studied some aspect of Eric’s face or hair.

Ujor was no stranger to protocol and neither were his companions. The shorter man was named Eldrazz, Eglanna’s older brother. The bearded shield bearer was Kannafen, an older advisor to the brothers.

Eglanna had brown eyes set in an open, eager face. The fact he was clean shaven added to an already boyish demeanor. His youthful appearance notwithstanding, he had the quick smile of a philanderer and the easy tone of a diplomat.

Eldrazz, the stockier of the three men, moved like a swordsman but with the attitude of a brawler, the kind of man you provoke in a fight to turn his pride against him. His eyes were darker than Eglanna’s and his mouth was set in the frown of some hidden anger.

Kannafen was balding, though his hair, like the others, was tightly curled and close cut. His heavy brows gave a seriousness to his face, but he was as fast to smile as Eglanna. He was broad shouldered but with a heavy paunch, a build not unlike the wrestlers used in the arenas of the Haru.

All three left their wine untouched until Eric and I drank and remained standing until we were seated. Wherever they came from clearly had the proper etiquette for whatever passed for royalty in their land.

Eric set his wine down and gestured to Ujor.

“Captain, you mentioned mercy, but before you present your case, I would like to know who you are and something of your land. I am not too proud to admit I have never seen your people.”

Eglanna nodded.

“We are from Kullobrin, a nation many times larger than all the Sand Republics. We have not been long in your part of the world. We only began trading with the Dolbiri a year ago.” Eglanna took another drink. “We are from across the ocean to the west that you call the Hard Water. I understand your ships’ hulls are not yet strong enough to withstand the swells, but obviously we overcame that difficulty some time ago.”

Eric watched Eglanna as he spoke, though to Eric’s credit he studied the man’s eyes.

“And what mercy would you ask of us that requires so many soldiers?” Eric asked. “Rarely have I seen such a well-armed plea.”

It was Eglanna’s turn to take Eric’s measure, but Eric’s strength, as I have said, is to shield himself from unwanted scrutiny. Watching his gracious but stony face, I felt inadequate to speak for Avandi and all its provinces.

“We are an expeditionary force, Your Highness, and carry much of value. Our hope was to start a colony on the unpopulated mountainous shores to the north, but we know that the Haru to the north make broad claims on those lands. We thought it best to come defended. Likewise, our course took us near where Northmen raiders were rumored, though I understand they are more likely to attack ships of your flag.”

“Brutes, by all accounts, no matter whose flag they attack,” the old woman Esmir quipped.

“Esmir,” Eglanna said, both warning and warmth in his voice.

“Strange you should be so fearful of a Haru attack and be so ready to attack other ships when it suits you, Captain,” Eric said casually.

Eglanna was clearly taken aback, though whether at the accusation or our knowledge, I could not tell.

“Your Highness,” Kannafen interjected with a deep velvety voice, “we are strangers to this part of the world and therefore subject to all manner of false rumor and accusation.”

Eric did not look at Kannafen but instead held Eglanna’s eye, pressing the younger man as I would a weakness in the lines of an enemy.

“Highness, I assure you, we are peaceful colonists. Surely the law of the sea is not so different here as in our land. We have attacked no one. In fact, we have encountered no other ships, hostile or otherwise,” Eglanna said.

“Indeed?” Eric began. “No Dolbiri merchants? No fisherfolk of my own country?”

“No, Highness,” Eglanna insisted, “not a ship since we left sight of our last port.”

“How, then, would you explain the two witnesses who saw these attacks? The people of these lands are hardly more prone to mirages than your own,” countered Eric.

“Highness, we have conducted ourselves honorably. I do not know what these people saw, but it was not any wrongdoing of this fleet.”

“I see,” Eric said dangerously. “Then why head this far east at all, Captain? If you can cross the Hard Water, surely you can navigate the boundaries of the Gaping Sea.”

“Our colony site was occupied, Majesty. Before we could even drop anchor we could see the smoke of a Haru settlement on the very land we had hoped to start our new lives. We were unwilling to start those lives with a war.”

Eric swirled his wine in his glass and set it again on the table. “And how did that circumstance bring you here?”

“It wasn’t by choice,” the older brother, Eldrazz, said, an edge in his voice. Eldrazz glared defiantly at Eric.

Captain Eglanna put a hand on his brother’s arm. “We were forced to seek a new area to settle, Highness, but we were low on supplies since we had planned to be offloaded already. We sailed south to Kulkerra to resupply. We planned to return to the northern coast to find a suitable settlement, but that was when the sickness came.”

“Sickness?” Eric queried, though we had clearly seen them unloading the infirmed last night.

“The captain speaks truthfully,” Kannafen vouched. “We are a sailing people and long used to the ailments aboard ship. But what started with a few dozen sick became a few hundred. We had left Kulkerra but needed to find shore, to seek aid for our people and begin scrubbing the boats before we went further.”

“We meant no offense in landing here, Highness,” Eglanna insisted.

Kulkerra was the nearest port of any of our neighbors and just short of our own lands. There was nothing inherently implausible in the story, but Eric did not put away his stern visage.

“How long will it take you to cleanse the ships and be on your way?” Eric asked Captain Eglanna.

“Less than a week, Highness. That I promise you.”

Eric studied Eglanna silently across the table. His eyes searched the dark man’s eyes and mouth, the fold of his hands. As I watched Eglanna under my brother’s scrutiny, I realized that I was missing something vital.

Eric stood and we all rose promptly.

“You have four days, but your conduct will be monitored. I will leave it to my sister to set the terms of your stay here. You may tell your leaders that we would welcome formal relations with Kullobrin.” Eric paused and again studied the seaman standing across the table. “I wish your people well, Captain.”

Eric turned and moved to the horses behind us.

“I need a moment with the prince,” I said to Eglanna. “I won’t be a long.”

Eric was beside his horse when I reached him. He fingered his reins absently.

“You feel it, sister?” Eric asked at my approach. “They’re hiding something. And it’s more than their lies about not attacking those ships they encountered.”

“Yes,” I said.

He looked out over the sea, the fleet of massive ships dotting the face of the waters for as far as one could see.

“It might be the true value of what they carry,” Eric said, then sighed. “They could only be seeking to safeguard what they carry.”

“No,” I said quickly and then again more softly, “no.”

Eric looked at me, his eyes moving across my face.

“You’ll do fine at these negotiations and more if the need arises,” Eric said. “You’re better than you think at reading people.”

“What did Father’s note say?” I asked.

“What?”

“The message. Brought to you by the aglindor. You read the note and laughed.”

Here he studied me closely, his eyes working out a problem. At long last, he began, “Father and I have talked…many times…about your work, your duties as High General.”

“And?”

“You are good at war, Kara, perhaps better than anyone before you, but it has changed you, changed how you see the world.”

“Shouldn’t it?” I asked. “As the fire changes the sword. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“In some ways,” he said slowly, “but even the sword knows to fear the fire, sister. You seem to enjoy it.”

I said nothing, but I could feel my jaw clenching.

“Father wanted you to lead these talks to give your other strengths an airing,” Eric was saying. “He…and I…have long feared losing you to the work that has brought you so much success.”

“Am I to be punished, mocked for my successes?” I said.

“What did you see when we came upon this city of tents?” Eric said sharply. “I saw the need for clean water, for basic sewage. I estimated how much food these people would need and what taxes we would need to pay for those things. But what did you see?”

I looked away.

“You thought that the tents would provide them no defense from your arrows, that they would burn very easily, children and all.” Eric paused. “You need only tell me I’m wrong, High General.” He stared at me expectantly. “Do you already have the lay of the land? Do you already know where their soldiers will make their defiant last stand as they watch their cloth homes burn?”

“And if these talks fail and we find ourselves in battle? Am I to step aside and be ready for the peace talks?” I asked bitterly.

Eric turned away, his eyes searching the southern horizon for Abringol, though it lay miles beyond his view.

“Our father is no fool, Kara.” He let slip a dark, sharp laugh. “He knows that you are a sword now, and he will use it to protect the kingdom, to protect Abringol, even if he loses that sword forever.” He moved back toward me but could not meet my eyes. “It is the cost of being king.”

Eric leapt atop his horse, and his escort followed suit.

“Keep them north of the River of Ballads and south of the village of Trudven. The rest I leave to you, sister-diplomat…sword of our kingdom.”

Eric and his men turned their mounts and rode south for Abringol.

With Gonnaban by my side, arranging the details of the Kullobrini stay went smoothly. I added to Eric’s two borders that they could travel no further inland than the village Gan Barrow, a day’s ride east. The Kullobrini raised no objections to the limits we set on them; they only asked questions. Could they trade with the local populace? What is a good price for wheat in Avandi? What about cloth for sails and tents? All the while the sense of missing some fine point, some nuance, gnawed at me.

I had my war tent set up directly behind our former lookout spot, thereby reclaiming it from the Kullobrini. Peaceful or no, I would take what advantages I could, no matter how much this sword liked the fire.

I sent word to Gwey that he and a selection of merchants from Abringol should arrive immediately and begin trade with the Kullobrini, particularly in the list of items that came up in our talks. I also sent word to Eric to send some city healers to our colonists-gone-awry and hide among them some of his infantry as assistants so that we might spy inside the tent city itself.

Almost the moment my talks were over, Gonnaban had asked to set up cavalry patrols along the borders specified by myself and Eric. I agreed, but I was shocked by his distaste for these new people. While I was still astounded at the color of their skin, I could not help admiring a people that had conquered the Hard Water and had a navy so large it could spare 200 ships for the protection of colonists. Likewise, as we retook our little spy hill, we noted that the Kullobrini also had a farlook, but instead of a crude leather cylinder, the device was a cunning series of metal cylinders that collapsed in on itself.

Gonnaban was unimpressed by their accomplishments and would shake his head in disdain whenever he watched the tents for long.

A few hours after Eric departed, a messenger arrived from Pulgatt’s fleet. A Kullobrini ship had approached one of ours and given the same story as Captain Eglanna: would-be colonists beset with disease. The messenger also said that Pulgatt had dispatched a ship to gather information from Kulkerra and the fleet’s actions there. The ship should return tonight. There still had been no word of the ships sent to find other approaching fleets.

The news of two consistent stories did not temper Gonnaban’s attitude toward the Kullobrini. He muttered constantly about “bad breeding” and “no respect.” I left him to his temper and dealt with the series of Kullobrini messengers that kept us informed about the Kullobrini’s city of tents or came to ask questions or clarify some point for Captain Eglanna. Among the messengers was Kannafen, the Ujors’ shield-bearing advisor. He arrived at my tent in the early afternoon, his shield still catching the sun.

“Forgive the intrusion, General,” he began.

“Not at all,” I said, nodding to dismiss my soldier who escorted the older man into my tent. “What can I do for you?”

“I do not mean to cause trouble, but how flexible is Prince Eric?” he asked, setting his shield at his feet. “The brothers are convinced that four days will be enough time to clean our ships, but.…”

“But you don’t share their optimism,” I finished.

“They are young,” he said, “though both able sailors.”

“I might be able to persuade Prince Eric to grant a few more days,” I said, “but you should strive to complete the task in the time allotted.”

“I understand,” he said, stooping to pick up his shield.

“Your shield, the crossed quills, does it have a meaning to your people?” I asked.

“Advisors of a certain rank are awarded such shields,” said Kannafen. “We believe that knowledge is a great protection and so it symbolizes my service to the two brothers.”

“Knowledge is certainly powerful,” I agreed.

“Yes,” he said, smiling broadly. “Yes, it is.”

The elderly servant Esmir even made an appearance, ostensibly to deliver a bottle of Kullobrini wine for me as a gift.

“Not as good as what you might be used to, but it’ll knock on your door as nicely as you please,” the old woman bubbled.

In the distance, Gonnaban watched us. He shook his head and turned away.

“Thank Captain Ujor for me,” I said, sitting at my war table. “How fares your battle with the disease? I’m sorry our healers have not yet arrived.”

“Oh, we’ll manage, though more than one will be lost,” she said. “Though I reckon that’s the way of battles, eh, miss?” And she winked and was off, riding one of those tall, loping horses as though born to it.

That evening, Abringol’s healers arrived in brightly colored wagons that reeked of herb and poultice. I instructed them to make camp to the south of the hill I had reclaimed so that my cavalry might be between the healers and any trouble.

Near shore, I could see Gonnaban speaking with our beach camp. He and the other soldiers would laugh and gesture at the herd of tents grazing on our land. Then one or more of the men would gesture dismissively.

Soon thereafter, Gwey and a resplendent array of Abringol’s merchants rode in, their own wagons loaded with wares. Gwey rode in the lead, enjoying the power of his position. He brought his band to a halt outside my tent and presented himself for inspection with great flourish and a bow.

I stood, hands on my hips, and returned his bow quickly, trying to keep my smile in check.

“Princess Kara, may I present the honest and worthy merchants of your brother’s fair city. We shall treat your dark guests as honored customers and keep every untoward inclination toward profit under tight rein,” he said, rising from his bow and kissing my hand.

“Welcome,” I said to him warmly and then louder to his compatriots, “Welcome!” I turned to Gwey. “You and your companions may camp south of the healers’ area. I have imposed a curfew that begins at dark. I expect you to keep it.”

“Of course,” Gwey said for his colleagues’ benefit, “we live only to serve.”

He bowed again, mounted his horse, and led his entourage back south to make camp, waving an exaggerated farewell.

As Gwey’s wagons circled south to follow him, I could make out a ship signaling in the bay.

“That’ll be news from that ship of Pulgatt’s returned from Kulkerra,” Gonnaban said behind me. “A penny to a pearl, that’s what it is.”

In short order, one of our beach watch began signaling back, clarifying the message. In moments, a rider arrived with the message scrawled on parchment.

“The Kulkerrans had never seen the Kullobrini before,” I said, scanning the message, “but they behaved very civilly the day they were there. The only oddity, besides their appearance, was that they purchased food, so much that there is now worry that farmers have dipped into their seed supply on many crops.”

“Food for a campaign?” Gonnaban said, thinking aloud. “As dry as Kulkerra is, it’s not very hard for a fleet that size to run ’em out of everything. Even much of Prince Kollus’s land doesn’t have bumper crops,” said Gonnaban. “Too little rain.”

“But why buy so much when they plan on building a colony?” I asked. “If you plan to stay, to make a life here, you can trade for food as you need it.”

“I’m no sailor, not by a long shot,” said Gonnaban, “but a people that can build ships like that must know what they’re doing.” He kicked his boot against a clod of dirt. “Any word on what they’re carrying that’s so valuable?”

I reread the message.

“No, no one remembers trading for anything other than food for coin,” I said, looking out at the vast spread of tents that stretched for miles.

“Which means either they lied,” Gonnaban said triumphantly, “or what they sold is damn illegal, both here and in the Sand Republics.” He kicked another clod while he thought. “Slaves maybe? They’re not legal and that could explain the children. Could help a new colony, too.”

“The Dolbiri have a root, something called trava, they use for mystical visions. Father outlawed it last year,” I offered. “It kills as often as it grants visions. Do the Sand Republics use such things?”

Gonnaban shrugged. “Whatever it is, you bet it’ll do us no good.” He laughed bitterly. “If they aren’t just lying.”

I tucked away the parchment and faced Gonnaban squarely.

“I’ve dealt with your grumblings all day, Master-at-Arms,” I said sternly. “I will have the truth from you if I have to flay you. You’re a bad cloud and you’re making the men tense with waiting for rain. What do you have against the Kullobrini aside from the mysteries they represent?”

“The Kullobrini,” Gonnaban said, and spat on the ground. “That captain and that damn old servant woman.” He shook his head. “Begging your pardon, and a lot of patience, but it would be better if I could show you. Can I beg your leave and ask that you set a meeting with Captain Eglanna tonight?”

I peered at his weathered stubble and large gray eyes.

“I would be lying if I said I haven’t felt as though I’ve missed something,” I began, “and if not for that feeling I might tell you to shove this meeting of yours.”

I took a deep breath and looked toward the tents, where torches and lanterns were being lit against the coming night.

“But we’ll do it,” I said slowly. “What shall we discuss?”

“Anything you like, Your Highness,” Gonnaban said, relieved to have a chance to air his grievance against our visitors. “Confront them about the large amount of foodstuffs. Challenge them to tell you what’s so valuable they decided not to trade it.”

“All right,” I said. “Let’s present ourselves to Captain Eglanna.”

The tent for our initial talks had been left standing with the Kullobrini table inside. It remained as some sort of unspoken neutral ground should we need it. Gonnaban and I waited there while our messenger requested a meeting with Eglanna.

In moments, riders carrying lanterns—by all appearances Eglanna, Eldrazz, Esmir, Kannafen, and a Kullobrini escort—exited the tent city through a narrow opening in the swath of red cloth that lay on the ground.

I rose to greet them as they swung off their horses. Esmir again carried wine.

“Welcome,” I said.

All five dark-skinned Kullobrini bowed and approached.

I gestured for Ujor to sit, and Gonnaban and I seated ourselves.

“With your permission, Princess, I have brought more wine,” Eglanna began.

Eldrazz seemed sullen and crossed his arms as soon as he sat.

I could feel Gonnaban’s eyes working at all of our guests, his body tense. I waved away the wine. “I’m sorry to bring you away from your supper table, Captain, but I wanted a word before the hour was too late.”

I locked eyes with Eglanna and waited for him to look away.

Moments passed silently by, with Gonnaban glancing from Ujor to me, the tension in my old war companion’s body rising with each second. When Gonnaban jumped to his feet, I suddenly understood his outrage.

“You see, Highness! No breeding! The brass of it!” Gonnaban yelled, pointing nearly in Eglanna’s face. “To sit unbowed, it’s—it’s—”

A flash of rage arose in Captain Eglanna’s eyes and was just as quickly suppressed.

What I had missed all along, and what Gonnaban had seen but misinterpreted, now dawned in me brighter and brighter. Gonnaban spends his life among royalty, as do the servants outside my chamber door at Eric’s palace, and so bowing before one’s betters comes instantly, without thought. Likewise, to see such traditions not observed by others, particularly when you serve that royalty faithfully, is a tremendous affront, one that seems as deep to you as it should to the royalty you serve.

But Gonnaban’s outrage was misplaced. While Esmir’s cavalier attitude could be explained as the familiar ways of a trusted and elderly servant, Eglanna’s was of a different and shocking source.

I stood slowly and placed a hand on Gonnaban’s outstretched arm, lowering it from Eglanna’s face.

Eglanna held my gaze icily and did not rise as protocol demanded. It was a gaze I had seen before, across both banquet tables and battlefields.

“Gonnaban,” I said softly, holding Ujor’s gaze, “Captain Ujor’s actions are not those of the ill bred. They are the actions of an equal.”

Gonnaban stiffened as though from pain. “What?”

I did not look at Gonnaban. “Am I right, Captain?”

Esmir glanced from me to Ujor, her sweet disposition unperturbed by the rumblings of royalty before her.

Kannafen straightened visibly in his chair.

Eldrazz’s eyes went wide and moved to Eglanna.

Captain Eglanna rose slowly.

“I am Prince Eglanna Ujor,” he said, now only matching my gaze with some difficulty, “of the Royal House of Ujor of Kullobrini. I come in peace, and I apologize for the deception.”