King Breaker (32 page)

‘Over here.’ Elrhodoc beckoned Captain Aeran and the harbour-master. As they strode across the terrace, Elrhodoc turned to Isolt. ‘Terrible news, my queen, Utlanders—’

‘I’ve already told her,’ Cadmor cut him off. He nodded to the captain of the city-watch. ‘Aeran.’ Then to the harbour-master. ‘Still having trouble making your books balance, Fercwyf?’

The harbour-master flushed. ‘There’s no problem with my books, bay lord. I keep track of all goods in and out of Port Mero.’

‘Is that what you call it?’

‘I’m guessing Cadmor’s told you that Utlanders entered the bay last night,’ Aeran said quickly. ‘They murdered a merchant ship’s captain and stripped his vessel.’

‘I’ve spent all morning dealing with his surviving crew and employer,’ the harbour-master said.

Fyn frowned. ‘I don’t see how an Utland ship could sail into Mero Bay unnoticed.’

The harbour-master turned to Cadmor. ‘Well, bay lord?’

‘They sailed a captured merchant ship.’ Cadmor shrugged. ‘No one realised it had an Utland crew. They would have gotten away with it, if trouble hadn’t broken out between the Utlanders. As soon as the alarm was given, my grandson gave chase. An Ostronite sea-hound ship followed him. My grandson’s ship was destroyed and the Ostronite ship severely damaged.’

‘And the Utlanders escaped unpunished. We can’t have this. It’s bad for trade,’ the harbour-master insisted. ‘As bay lord, it’s your responsibility to protect Port Mero.’

‘Let me see...’ Cadmor rubbed his jaw. ‘It must be over fifty years since the merchants and lords stopped paying their tithe for the bay lord’s protection. Reckon that’s about right, because I was sent to sea when I was ten and I’m sixty-five now. Fifty-five years of making ends meet. I reckon my family’s owed fifty-five years of tithes for—’

‘For what?’ the harbour-master sneered. ‘For letting the Utlanders escape?’

‘For patrolling the bay and deterring Utlanders!’

‘And how much of that have you been doing? Half the time your ships are working as common sea-hound escorts.’

‘To make ends meet. You’ve no idea how much it costs to maintain my ships and crews. If the lords and merchants had paid their dues, my other two ships wouldn’t have been serving as sea-hounds on route to Rolencia. They would’ve been patrolling the bay yesterday—’

‘But they weren’t, and look what happened!’

Cadmor’s hands curled into fists. Aeran put a hand on his shoulder.

Elrhodoc turned his back on them. ‘We must mount a punitive expedition, my queen. Teach those barbaric Utlanders a lesson. Bring them back and execute them in the town square.’

‘But how do we catch them?’ Isolt asked. ‘Once on the open sea they could go anywhere.’

‘It’s pointless to go after them.’ Fyn spoke from experience. ‘By the time we send out ships, the Utlanders will have a day’s head-start. Our ships would have to stop and board every Merofynian merchant ship they came across to find the one under Utlander control.’

‘It doesn’t matter, as long as they capture some Utlanders and bring them back here to be executed,’ Elrhodoc said. ‘And we can’t leave this to the bay lord. He said himself he hasn’t any ships to spare. We need the king’s ships.’

Fyn’s father hadn’t maintained a navy. When they needed ships, King Rolen would commandeer merchants’ ships. Fyn caught Isolt’s eye. ‘How many ships in the royal navy?’

‘Five in all,’ Elrhodoc answered for her. ‘We’ll—’

‘True,’ she cut in, ‘but when not at war, they serve the crown’s interests as merchant ships. I’m not sure how many are in port.’

‘I’ll find out and bring their captains to the war-table,’ Aeran said.

‘I’ll tell the nobles.’ Elrhodoc strode off.

‘I’ll tell the merchants.’ The harbour-master left.

Isolt turned to the bay lord. ‘I’m sorry, I had no idea the merchants and lords had stopped paying their tithes.’

‘About the same time they stopped offering their daughters to my family. When my father went looking for a wife, every last girl was promised. Or so they claimed.’ He shrugged.

Isolt smiled slowly, her eyes lighting up. ‘The royal yacht is the best that Wythrontir shipyard has built.’

‘I know the royal yacht, she’s a beauty.’

‘Fit for the open sea?’

‘Of a certainty.’

‘Then she’s yours.’

The bay lord’s jaw dropped.

‘You lost a ship in Merofynia’s service.’

The bay lord dropped to one knee. ‘You have my family’s loyalty to the end of our days, Queen Isolt.’

Isolt laughed. ‘I thank you. But be careful what you swear. Who knows what will happen?’

Cadmor came to his feet and his gaze went past her to where the royal yacht was moored.

‘Go look her over,’ Isolt said. ‘I’ll send a message to have her re-stocked. Do you want the crew or your own people?’

‘My people, begging your pardon.’

Fyn nodded. ‘A captain needs to know he can rely on his crew.’

‘Your lord protector has the right of it.’ He took his leave, with a spring in his step.

This left Fyn and Isolt virtually alone on the terrace. Lady Gennalla, Sefarra and little Benowyth had slipped away to give them privacy. The servants waited to clear the table.

‘You did the right thing,’ Fyn said. ‘For all his rough edges, I’d trust Cadmor at my back, before I’d trust...’ He thought better of criticising the captain of the queen’s guards.

‘Utlanders in Mero Bay, what next?’ Isolt shook her head. ‘I know you say we won’t catch them, but we have to do
something
.’

‘With a spar raid and now an Utland raid, I think you should cancel the royal tour. Your birthday is in midsummer and we’re planning a big celebration. Tell the lords to come here, to give their oaths of allegiance.’

‘You’re right. I can stage a grand ceremony.’

‘Have them bring their families, then keep them here.’

‘As hostages?’

‘As welcome guests,’ Fyn said. ‘Children who grow up in your court will support you as adults. This is your chance to win the loyalty of the next generation of Merofynian nobles.’

Isolt’s eyes widened. ‘I must admit, I had not thought that far ahead.’

‘I was trained in statecraft.’

‘My father made no effort to train me. He thought my mother would give him a son.’

Fyn wanted to reach out and hug her. He folded his arms. ‘Do you want to finish your lunch?’

‘I don’t think I could eat right now. Besides, I had better sign the royal yacht over to Lord Cadmor before he’s accused of trying to steal it.’

‘T
HEY’RE LATE.
’ B
YREN
adjusted his borrowed Merofynian finery. ‘I wish I wasn’t meeting Rolencian merchants dressed like one of the enemy.’

‘Merofynia is no longer our enemy, now that Queen Isolt is our ally.’ Orrade gestured to their clothing. ‘And this will serve as a reminder.’

Even empty, the wool warehouse was thick with the smell of lanolin. Byren opened the little window. They were right across from the wharfs and the calls of seagulls carried on the breeze, along with the smell of seaweed.

To one side of where they stood was the shuttered opening where bales were winched up. Light filtered in through the gaps around the shutters.

The corax’s voice reached them from the floor below as he welcomed an arrival. ‘Markiz Samidor.’

The other merchants greeted the markiz.

‘We’ll wait for—’

‘No point,’ someone said. ‘The others aren’t coming, or they would have been here by now.’

Byren and Orrade exchanged looks.

‘Then go right up,’ the corax told them. ‘I’ll keep watch.’

Orrade leant closer to Byren. ‘Let me speak first.’

Four well-dressed merchants filed onto the mezzanine floor under the sloping roof. Byren frowned.
Only four?

Three merchant markizes and one markiza. Byren knew the markiza. Her son, Chandler, had served in his honour guard. The other three he knew by name and reputation, but that was all. He wished now that he had spent more time in trade meetings.

‘By now you will have heard the good news,’ Orrade said. ‘King Merofyn is dead. Byren killed the upstart spar warlord, Palatyne, claimed Isolt for his queen and named his brother lord protector of Merofynia. Now he needs your help.’

They all looked to Byren. He spread his feet and hooked his hands in his belt. ‘I’m going to raise an army to remove my bastard cousin from my father’s throne.’

‘King Rolen’s death was a great loss,’ the old wool merchant said. He reminded Byren of Orrade’s father—tall, thin and austere.

‘Thirty years of peace and prosperity King Rolen gave us.’ Markiz Samidor shook his head. He was middle-aged and seemed to have a perpetual frown. ‘I fear we won’t see his like again.’

The others nodded.

‘He will be sadly missed.’ The plump spice merchant agreed, and Byren recognised his voice. Yarraskem had been the one who said no more merchants were coming. Now the spice merchant gestured, rings glinting as his lace cuff fell away from his hand. ‘While we are glad to see King Rolen’s son safely returned, having secured the Merofynian queen for his bride, one wonders why he did not bring Merofynian men-at-arms to oust Cobalt.’

Byren was prepared for this. ‘Rolencia has suffered at the hands of Merofynia. I’m not marching more Merofynians across Rolencian soil.’

‘Besides,’ the wool merchant said. ‘You could not trust Merofynians to fight their own brothers-at-arms. Cobalt has five captains and their men at his disposal.’

‘Forget them,’ Orrade said. ‘They’ll be recalled to Merofynia. In fact they probably won’t wait for orders. They’ll sail when they hear that Byren is betrothed to their queen.’

‘Does this mean you’ve ordered the Merofynian nobles to relinquish the properties and businesses they laid claim to?’ Yarraskem asked.

‘Some,’ Byren conceded. The Merofynian nobles had not been eager to give up what they’d won. ‘They fought a war, lost men and—’

‘Stole our stock and confiscated our cargo,’ Yarraskem supplied.

‘Which is why we need to reclaim Rolencia and make the kingdom strong,’ Byren forged on. ‘Soon the streets will be clear of strutting Merofynian men-at-arms. Soon our only enemies will be Cobalt’s men and those Rolencians who’ve sold their loyalty to him for land and titles.’

‘Civil war...’ The markiza shook her head.

‘What do you want from us?’ Samidor asked, eyes wary. ‘Gold?’

‘I have the Merofynian treasury.’ In theory. But he could not travel with a fortune. Byren had some gold with him and a letter from Queen Isolt. ‘I need you to support me. Spread the word that I’ve returned, so I can gather an army and—’

‘An army of cripples?’ Yarraskem grimaced. ‘Those who weren’t killed or captured in the invasion paid with their right hands when they refused to reveal your whereabouts to Cobalt. Who will flock to your banner a second time?’

No one mentioned the Battle of Narrowneck, but Byren knew they were thinking of it. His cheeks burned with shame and frustration. Through no fault of his own, he’d let down his followers, and he hated it.

Orrade gestured to the merchants. ‘Each of you keeps hired swordsmen—’

‘To protect our property,’ Yarraskem said. ‘In troubled times, a man needs to protect his family and trade.’

‘When Byren is king, he’ll re-open trade,’ Orrade said.

‘Cobalt has already re-opened trade,’ Yarraskem said and shrugged. ‘And he’s lifted King Rolen’s ban on Affinity products.’

‘Not that it ever stopped you from turning a profit,’ Samidor muttered. ‘We all know things slip in with your spices.’

Yarraskem bristled. ‘What are you saying?’

Byren slammed the flat of his hand on the table. They all jumped and turned to him. ‘Fighting amongst ourselves only aids Cobalt.’

Yarraskem and Samidor subsided, radiating affronted dignity.

‘I need Rolencian merchants to honour Queen Isolt’s treasury letter.’ Byren removed the letter from his vest to show them the Merofynian seal and Queen Isolt’s signature. ‘I need gold to buy food and weapons.’

‘We all need gold,’ Yarraskem said. ‘The Merofynians cleaned me out of stock and burned my warehouse. I’ve had to negotiate a loan from Ostron Isle to rebuild my business.’

‘I’m in much the same position,’ the wool merchant said. ‘My stock was stolen and I must make five successful voyages before I can repay my debt to the Ostronites.’ He shook his head. ‘I wish you well, young Byren, but—’

‘The Ostronites sat on the fence and profited from this invasion,’ Samidor said. ‘Take your letter to them.’

Voices reached them from below and the corax ran up the steps. ‘A Merofynian patrol has been sighted two blocks over, coming this way.’

The merchants wished Byren well and left. Only the markiza lingered. She placed a drawstring purse on the table.

‘Gold,’ she said. ‘It is all I can manage.’

‘I will not forget this,’ Byren said, coming around the table. ‘One day I will repay you.’

‘I want to ask you to make sure my son comes home safe, but...’ She gave a sad, proud laugh. ‘I know he will be in the thick of the fighting.’

‘He’s a good lad, Chandler.’ Byren kissed her cheek. ‘No wonder, when he has you for a mother.’

She left and Byren turned to Orrade, who shook his head. ‘How do you know the right thing to say?’

Byren shrugged. ‘I spoke the truth, that’s all.’

Chapter Twenty-Five

N
OW THAT
F
LORIN
knew Byren lived, she felt her place was at his side, helping him regain the throne. Instead she was stuck here playing the man so Seela could teach Varuska to dance.

‘Again,’ Seela said.

‘I don’t see why I have to learn these noble dances,’ Varuska muttered. ‘I’ve managed to avoid dancing so far.’

‘You’ll have to dance at the wedding.’

‘Not if we kill him right after the ceremony,’ Varuska countered, flashing a cheeky smile. In that moment, she reminded Florin of Piro. Now that Varuska trusted them, she’d grown confident enough to reveal her true nature... when Cobalt was not around.

Seela frowned. ‘Don’t—’

The door to the women’s solarium swung open and Cobalt strode in. He took in their stance and the dolcimela in Seela’s hands. ‘I see you are practising your dances for the wedding, Piro. Excellent. I’ve brought our marriage forward. Seven days from now we’ll—’