The Grace of Kings (50 page)

Then he raised his voice. “If our ships are destroyed, then we must build more.”

He issued new orders.

There were simply too many surrendered Imperial soldiers to keep all as prisoners. They would be freed—provided that they agreed to join Mata Zyndu's army.

The prisoners jumped at the chance.

The first task of the new, bigger army was to build more ships to replace those that had been lost.

Many of the former Imperial soldiers had served as supervisors on the emperor's grand construction projects, where they wielded whips on the corvée laborers. Many of the Cocru soldiers, on the other hand, had worked as corvée laborers or had family and friends who did.

Now that they were supposed to be comrades with their erstwhile tormentors, the men of Cocru exacted revenge in ways big and small. Latrine duty was always assigned to the former Imperials, as was cooking, cleaning, and standing guard at night.

And during the day, as the former Imperials toiled at ship­building, the men of Cocru stood around and taunted them to work harder and faster. Morale among Mata's men rose despite the loss of the first fleet: Tormenting the Xana soldiers offered a concrete form of justice.

Ratho, among others, took great pleasure in ordering the Imperial scum about. As far as the surrendered men were concerned, the word of the marshal's personal guard was law.

Ratho's favorite game was to order these men to carry the great oak trees cut from the mountains down to the harbor. He would assign sixteen men to each tree and tell them that they had to walk all the way down from the mountain without ever setting the tree on the ground for a break. When the exhausted men inevitably dropped the tree before reaching their destination, he would make them leave the tree where it was and go back for another one. This was a diversion he never tired of.

“After what you Xana bastards put my father through”—he whipped them—“I'm practically giving you massages.”

“There's a lot of complaining among the surrendered soldiers,” Ratho said. “Many officers think that a mutiny is likely.”

“Let them complain,” Mata Zyndu said, his voice quiet.

“You spared their lives! They should be on their knees every day thanking you,” Ratho said.

“Rat, sometimes it can be both too late to curse the gods and too early to thank men.”

Ratho didn't know what Marshal Zyndu meant. All he knew was that the surrendered Xana soldiers were ungrateful. He muttered, “You can't get pigs to stop loving mud.”

With great effort, Marshal Zyndu's army-of-former-prisoners managed to construct a new fleet in half as much time as before: ten days.

But this time, the sullen efforts of these abused men resulted in heavy, slow, and crude transports. Experienced Gan sailors looked at these ships in dismay. They resembled large boxes hammered together hastily with no thought about seaworthiness, stability, or maneuverability.

Torulu Pering spoke. “It would be a miracle if these ships didn't fall apart on their own once they were in the open ocean. I cannot see them posing a challenge to the blockading armada.”

Mata impatiently waved for him to be quiet. “I have heard enough of words of doubt.”

Fearing Marshal Zyndu's wrath more than the sea, no one else said anything.

“And hasn't he already snatched victory from the jaws of certain
defeat?
” the soldiers whispered. “Perhaps his will for success alone is enough to intimidate the gods into granting miracles. Even Tazu would not dare to fight our Marshal Zyndu.”

When Mata gave the order to board, no one objected.

The huge holds of the ships seemed designed to transport grain and fish rather than men. As soldiers filed in, guards stationed at the steps leading down into the holds pushed them until the holds were packed so tight that it was impossible for anyone to even turn around. When the guards were satisfied that the cargo holds were really, truly full, they closed the doors.

The ships sailed out of Toaza Harbor, and men held their breath in the darkness, waiting for the armada to strike. But nothing happened, and the ships sailed on. Did Marshal Zyndu's fearsome reputation keep the Imperial ships at bay?

Gradually, the men in the suffocating dark were lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking motion of the ships, still standing and leaning against their comrades.

Hours passed, and with a jolt, some woke from their slumber. It was very quiet. The decks above their heads creaked, but there was no sound of footsteps. Shouldn't the cargo holds be opened to allow some of the men to go above to take in fresh air?

Those near the doors banged against them. No answer.

“They didn't just bar the doors. They sealed us in!” someone who peeked through cracks in the doors shouted. There were heavy boxes stacked against the outside of the cargo hold doors so that the men inside could not push them open no matter how hard they tried.

“Is anyone here from Cocru? Anyone who had served under Marshal Zyndu from before?”

No one answered. The whole cargo hold was filled with surrendered Imperial soldiers.

“Who's sailing the ship? Is there anyone up there?”

More silence.

The sailors had long ago left on lifeboats. The rudders of the ships had been jammed to fix their course. The creaking, leaky ships, filled with twenty thousand surrendered Imperial soldiers, sailed northward into the Kishi Channel.

Tazu's hungry maw opened in front of them.

Tazu, now happily fed and strengthened by this sacrifice, grew even more violent and powerful. He careened north, shot out of the Kishi Channel, circled around the Big Toe, and sucked half of the Imperial armada into his bottomless maw.

Without a break, he now moved down the eastern coast of Wolf's Paw and within a few hours completed the circuit of the island. South of Toaza, within sight of those on shore, Tazu caught up to the other half of the armada. Admiral Filo Kaima and all his men went to join their dead companions at the bottom of the ocean.

Great plumes of water shot out of the center of Tazu and reached high into the sky like the flicking tongues of toads aiming for dragon­flies. The last of the lumbering Imperial airships tried to escape, but they were caught and pulled down into the great whirlpool and disappeared in silent puffs as they collapsed against the torrid sea like soap bubbles.

Tazu moved back into the Kishi Channel. His work was done.

In the gray and oppressive light of dusk, lightning bolts shot from the clouds, striking the tempest-tossed water in deafening blasts. Kiji, the stormy god of Xana, raged across the sea to the north of Wolf's Paw.

Come and fight me, Tazu! You have broken the pact among the gods. The blood of Xana must be avenged! I will pull out every one of your teeth.

But Tazu's whirlpool stayed out of the reach of the lightning bolts. It danced across the sea, careless as a well-fed shark.

Brother, your rage is misplaced. It is in my nature to wander these seas daily. If the mortals wish to stand in my way, I'm well within my rights to do as I did.

I will not hear of such sophistry!

The soothing, gentle voice of Rufizo, the healing god of nearby Faça, interceded.

Kiji, you know that Tazu is right. Much as I abhor his methods, he has stayed within the letter of our pact. He only persuaded Mata Zyndu to
make this sacrifice.

For hours, the storm continued to rage, but eventually, as the sun rose, it dissipated.

“You disapprove,” Mata said to his advisers. He kept his voice deliberately low and calm so that everyone strained to hear.

Except for Torulu Pering, who smiled coldly, all the other advisers lowered their eyes, not daring to meet his gaze.

“You think it was wrong to kill so many men who had already surrendered.”

The assembled men continued to say nothing, striving to breathe quietly through their noses.

“When we were merciful and allowed the prisoners to live, we were trapped on this island. A storm came and took away the lives of our soldiers, young men who deserved to die in glory, not at sea.

“But our victory became assured when I decided to listen to that old woman, who was truly Tazu's messenger, and offer him a sacrifice commensurate with his appetite. The gods were speaking to us, don't you see?

“I had been too merciful. Perhaps I had allowed Kuni Garu, my gentle brother, to affect me too much. After all, he's no great warrior. I had to remember that being merciful to one's enemies is the same as being cruel to one's own men. Tazu wanted blood, and I had to give it to him.

“Some of you may flinch at the thought of killing so many Xana prisoners, but know that there is divine justice in this. Years ago, my grandfather, Dazu Zyndu, lost his war against Xana due to treachery. The Xana dog Gotha Tonyeti then buried alive the surrendered Cocru soldiers. Only now has that blood debt been repaid.”