5.Death of Chaos
VI
Cigoerne, Afrit [Hamor]
THE SLIM BALD man in the tan uniform steps from the carriage outside the military gate to the palace of His Imperial Majesty Stesten, Emperor of Hamor, Regent of the Gates of the Oceans, and liege lord of Afrit.
“Marshal Dyrsse, ser, if you would follow me?” The junior officer inclines his head slightly.
Dyrsse nods brusquely in return, but his eyes drift downhill from the green marble palace to the smooth waters of the Swarth River, held in its banks by the levies that stretch from above the capital more than fifty kays down to the great imperial port at Swartheld.
“Ser?”
“Let's go,” Dyrsse says. “It wouldn't do to keep the Emperor waiting.”
“No, ser. Lord Chyrsse said he was in a foul mood.”
“And he wants to see me?”
“Yes, ser.”
The two march through the gate, past the four soldiers in dress tans who bear dark-barreled rifles, and through the arched halls of pale marble, their boots clicking on the polished stone. The two military men walk past two servers in white who push carts redolent of spiced meats.
An Austran diplomat in dark woolens wipes his forehead as the two officers pass, and an official from the province of Merowey, in flowing white trousers and a peach-colored vest with gold braid, inclines his shaven head. Two functionaries in orange uniforms carrying brown leather cases nod deeply at the marshal and continue away from the receiving halls.
“Did Chyrsse say why?” the marshal finally asks as they approach the northern anteroom.
“No, ser.”
As they step through the archway hung with tan draperies, fringed in gold, a heavyset man in brilliant blue trousers and a matching blue silk shirt, and wearing a heavy gold chain and medallion around his neck, steps forward.
“Marshal Dyrsse, the Emperor is waiting for you.”
“I came as soon as I received the message, but, even with the new river steamers, it takes some time.”
“The Emperor understands that,” replies Chyrsse.
“The Emperor does not have to understand much, Chyrsse,” responds Dyrsse. “He just has to command.”
“You always understand... I'll tell him you're here.” After wiping his forehead with a large cotton handkerchief and blotting his damp cheeks, Lord Chyrsse hurries through a small doorway in the comer of the room.
The junior officer looks down at the polished octagonal floor tiles. Dyrsse scans the empty military anteroom, then shakes his head. He sets the marshal's cap on the polished stand by the large doorway next to the two silent guards, wearing swords, in the antique orange and black dress uniforms that date back to the founding of the Empire.
Lord Chyrsse reappears. “His Excellency is waiting!” The marshal steps toward the heavy wooden doors warded by the guards, who turn, silently, and open them.
Lord Chyrsse straightens his silks and steps through the double doors before Marshal Dyrsse. “Marshal Dyrsse, responding to His Excellency's commands!”
Dyrsse's lips barely quirk at the high-pitched squeaking announcement, and he steps into the receiving chamber, where he walks to the orange carpet, turns to the throne and bows deeply. He waits.
“You may depart, Lord Chyrsse.” The Emperor's voice is deep, surprisingly deep, coming as it does from a thin figure with short but thick salt - and - pepper hair and a narrow beaked nose. Stesten's eyes are a piercing light green.
Behind the marshal, Lord Chyrsse bows and walks back through the side doors, which close with a dull thud.
There are no guards visible in the hundred-cubit-long chamber, but the dozen embrasures in the overhead gallery, and the four in the wall that forms a semicircle around the throne, testify to their hidden presence.
“You may approach, Marshal Dyrsse.”
The slim bald man in the tan uniform walks forward until he reaches the foot of the five wide steps that lead up to the imperial throne where he bows again. “Your Highness. How might I serve you?”
“By doing what you do best.”
“As Your Highness commands.” Drysse bows a third time.
“You are to go to Candar, to Dellash. We are going to complete the work there that has been waiting for too long. For far too many ages and through too many insults to the greatness that is Hamor.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“You sound doubtful, Marshal.” The Emperor's voice hardens.
“Your Majesty already has sent two envoys to Candar. Although your wish is always my desire, what could I add?”
“Neither has your understanding of ships, troops, and tactics. And neither has the understanding that Candar merely represents a step toward our ultimate and long-delayed goal.”
Dyrsse spreads his hands, as if in puzzlement.
“You should not question, but you would not be Dyrsse if you did not. That is why you are a marshal and not an envoy. Currently, Candar is relatively orderly. I am led to believe that will change shortly.” A laugh follows. “Through the infusion of yet more order. We perhaps might even aid in that infusion of order.”
“Us? Infuse order?”
“Let us just say that matters will shortly become very chaotic in Candar. That is, if my scholars are correct, and so far they have been. This will provide us an opportunity to impose our own form of order.”
“The grand fleet?” Dyrsse pauses when there is no answer, but does not wipe the perspiration from his forehead. “Sire... as you know... As you know, I have indicated that the forces presently committed to Candar are insufficient.”
“That they are, but, for now, you will carry out the orders of Rignelgio or his successor, as well as you are able.”
“As you wish, sire.”
“It is as I wish, Dyrsse. Remember, one cannot eradicate a nest of vipers without provoking and observing them to determine how widely and deeply they are spread. If I send the grand fleet now, what will it gain me?”
“All of Candar will submit. Or...”
“They might put aside their petty quarrels? They might, although I doubt any, except the autarch of Kyphros, are so perceptive. Better that we continue with the present strategy. Candar will fall, country by country, and then... then the black devils will have nowhere to turn.”
“Yes, ser.”
“You are thinking that it is better to strike with a heavy hammer from the first.” There is a sigh from the throne. “That hammer must be saved until it can be used on the black devils. It would not take the grand fleet to subdue Candar, now, would it, Marshal Dyrsse?”
“I would think not, but it will take more than the twenty-odd warships steaming across the Western Ocean.”
“You will have more ships for Candar, but not the grand fleet. You know that my grandfather would have liked to see that fleet? He especially would have liked to see the shells fall on the black city.”
“Yes, ser.”
Another sigh, theatrically loud, issues from the Emperor. “I see I must spell matters out, even for the great Marshal Dyrsse. It is simple. You are to take Candar. Ser Rignelgio has already begun the process with the Duke of Freetown. You are to support him. One means of such support is to cut off the Candarian traders from trading with Recluce. The other is to block the Recluce traders from providing support to Candar.”
“The black mages will send out their ships.”
“It is a little-known secret that they only have three. Perhaps you could eliminate one or perhaps two with the ships you will have-on the pretext of our conquest of Candar.”
“Only three? Three ships, and we have worried about Recluce for so long?”
“Those three ships have sunk dozens of our best vessels over the years, because they are quick and cannot be seen. That is why everyone has believed there were more, but... we have excellent sources of information, Marshal. There are only three ships. Each formidable, but... they cannot cover an entire continent. ”
Dyrsse covers a frown with a nod.
“You are beginning to understand. Good. The heart of the power of Recluce lies in the black city of Nylan. When Nylan falls, so does Recluce. And if Nylan is reduced to black gravel... do you understand?”
“I understand that Nylan and Recluce must fall, ser.”
“Good. For now, Rignelgio and Leithrrse will direct the efforts in Candar. I rather suspect that they, and most nobles of Hamor, fail to understand the true danger that faces us on the far side of the Eastern Ocean. You will support them with all your skill. Then will I provide you with the tools to reduce Nylan and destroy Recluce.”
“You do not expect them to fail?” Dyrsse feels his lips drying, but does not moisten them, not with the Emperor studying him.
“They are great nobles of Hamor, and their peers have forgotten that Hamor has lost two great fleets to the black isle, even before the black ships.”
“Ser... you tell me that I must support your envoys with all my skill, but that they will not prevail.” Dyrsse bows. “I am a fighting man, and I will carry out my duty to my last breath, but I must know that duty. I cannot rely on guessing your will, ser.”
“My will is simple, Dyrsse. Crush Recluce. My envoys are interested in growing rich from Candar and making token efforts against the black isle. Sooner or later Recluce will crush them, and you will inherit their authority, an authority I cannot now give you, for the danger is not yet obvious, and even emperors must consider the beliefs of their nobles.”
“Ser, my duty is clear, and I will do my best to carry it out. However, you have pointed out that no one has successfully taken on the black devils and their invisible ships-even if they do only have three. And that does not count their mages. Can you provide some guidance?”
“You are highly recommended. Why must I spell out every detail?”
“So I can do my best for you.”
There is a sigh from the throne. “After the others fail... you will receive my mandate, and you will bring all the powers of Hamor against Recluce. No one has ever before had hundreds of ships of black steel and order. Nor guns that fire five - and ten-stone shells. As for the black mages, they, too, are limited. Never has Recluce had more than a handful, and that handful will not be enough to prevail against the massed order of the grand fleet-when the time comes.” There is a pause from the throne.“Now... do you understand your orders? And your duty?”
“Yes, ser.”
“Then I look forward to the success of your efforts. You may go.”
Dyrsse bows again. Not until he is outside the chamber does he wipe his sweating forehead.