29

As someone whose blood called for the high dunes and cloudless skies of the Great Desert, there was nothing Joslyn liked about extended journeys by sea. And therefore, in a purely selfish way, she was glad that they had been blown too far off course to resupply in Negusto before sailing on to Birsid. The shipping lanes Akella had steered them towards instead took them to Tergos, a small Eastern coastal city that had once been a large Eastern coastal city, four days after they’d cleared the storm.

Originally, the fleet was supposed to pick up several thousand desert riders and their horses in Negusto, then sail for the larger port city of Birsid. Now most of those riders would cross to Birsid by land. It would take longer, yet it was probably for the best; Tasia’s ship, the Balus, was still perfectly seaworthy thanks to Akella, but most of the other ships that had survived the storm were barely capable of sailing, let alone adding cargo.

The damaged ships were the lucky ones. One by one, crows from the other ships came to the Balus to report their status. Once all the scrolls were opened and read, and all the crows given treats and flown back to their ship of origin, thirty-eight ships of the original armada – more than one-third of Tasia’s original force of one hundred vessels – remained unaccounted for and were suspected lost. Fortunately, the twenty ships that had sailed a few days after the first one hundred all seemed to be intact except one. These ships would stay the course to Negusto, picking up as many of the desert riders as they could accommodate, and rejoin the rest of Tasia’s army in Birsid as originally planned.

Aborting the resupply in Negusto also meant that Linna was still aboard. Joslyn had argued they should still send her back to the safety of Port Lorsin, but somehow Linna managed to talk Tasia into letting her stay.

“We can call her your apprentice,” Tasia said with a shrug when Joslyn questioned her about it. “An apprentice palace guard. It’s essentially what she was anyway; now we simply make it official.”

“But we’re heading into war, Tasia.”

“You weren’t much older than me when you went to war for the first time,” Linna said. “And the Imperial Army accepts recruits as young as sixteen summers. I bet I’m better with a sword than most sixteen year-old farm boys.”

Joslyn shook her head, deciding to drop the topic. Neither Linna nor Tasia seemed to understand what they were about to walk into. Yes, they had both fought in and survived battles, but they didn’t know what it was like to live war day after day.

But with the two of them united on the topic of Linna staying, all Joslyn could really do was step up her training. So that was what she did – she trained Linna day and night, sometimes above decks, sometimes below, sometimes in Tasia’s cabin. If Linna insisted upon being a swordswoman, then at least Joslyn would make her a living swordswoman instead of a dead one.

The lighthouse of Tergos came into view just as the sun was setting on the third day after the storm. When morning came, the sun revealed a coastline of sun-bleached buildings spread out in clusters along the bluffs above the water. The sight reminded Joslyn of Paratheen somewhat, except that Tergos appeared to be about half the size of the Terintan city, and trees grew from the crags of the bluff, whereas Paratheen was treeless.

Linna still slept soundly; Tasia was not in her bed – her upset stomach had her up before Joslyn lately. Joslyn slipped into her boots and left the cabin quietly. She would let Linna sleep in today; their imminent arrival meant there would be little time for training anyway.

Tasia wasn’t far from the cabin door. She stood at the starboard railing, one hand pressed to her belly, the other holding a farscope to her eye.

“Empress?” Joslyn said from a few steps behind, not wanting to startle her.

Tasia turned. “Good morning to you, Commander. You and your apprentice are not performing the dance this morning?”

For a moment, Joslyn wondered at Tasia’s formal tone, but then caught sight of a man in palace blacks standing further aft, eyes on his Empress and his Commander. Joslyn was glad to see him there. Until recently, he’d been a Western soldier, but Joslyn had promoted him to be a part of Tasia’s personal guard when they set sail. She’d instructed all the members of Tasia’s guard to keep their Empress in sight at all times when they were on duty, yet stay far enough away to respect her privacy. The guard who watched them was doing just as she had asked.

Joslyn nodded to herself approvingly and stepped closer to Tasia.

“No, I decided to let her sleep in this morning,” she answered. “She earned it. During training yesterday, she disarmed two of your guards and forced a third to yield.”

Tasia smiled. “Does that speak to your apprentice’s skill, or to the lack of skill on the part of the guards?”

Joslyn shrugged. “Perhaps they simply underestimate a petite Terintan girl of fifteen summers.”

Tasia laughed softly at this.

“I do also think they expected that three men against one girl would be an easy fight,” Joslyn added.

Tasia turned her face sharply. “Wait. You allowed three men – three grown men – soldiers, no less – to attack Linna at once?”

“Three on one is realistic,” Joslyn said.

Tasia glared at Joslyn, letting out an annoyed grunt.

“If we are not sending her back to Port Lorsin, then I must prepare her properly for what she may face.”

“I don’t intend for her to face anything,” Tasia said. “I intend to keep her close, far from the front lines.”

“War has a way of interfering with our best-laid plans. I want Linna prepared for true combat situations.”

“I suppose.” Tasia sighed. “Did the men at least pull their blows?”

“I did not ask them to,” said Joslyn. “And I would prefer that they did not. But even if I had asked them to do so, there is a good chance they would not have.”

Tasia cocked her head. “Why’s that?”

“Because,” Joslyn said, shifting her gaze away from Tasia and towards the cliffs north of Tergos, “Linna looks like me – Terintan. And female. In armor and carrying a blade. For some reason, that combination always seems to light a fire of anger inside the men we face.” She paused. “It makes them fight harder. But also sloppier.”

Tasia studied Joslyn for several long seconds, but Joslyn kept her eyes on the cliffs. At last Tasia let out another sigh and shook her head. “One day, Joslyn, when all this is over … when I have a chance to rule instead of fight wars …”

Do not say you will somehow force your people to start treating Terintans differently,Joslyn thought. There is no royal decree that has the power to change the hearts of men.

But perhaps Tasia knew better than to make any such claim, because she never finished her sentence. Instead, she handed the farscope to Joslyn.

“Look,” she said. “Off the bow, to the starboard side. It seems half the army in the East came out to greet us.”

Joslyn put the farscope to her eye and trained it on the shore. Tasia was right: Troops divided into musters of one hundred fanned out neatly along the road that ran parallel to the shore, stretching north and south nearly as far as she could see. Joslyn estimated that there were two or three thousand soldiers there, give or take.

“Well. I suppose they will be wanting me to look and sound like an Empress when we land,” Tasia said. “I should wash the sea from myself and put on something more presentable. Something royal-looking.”

She moved towards the stairs.

To Joslyn’s eyes, Tasia appeared more strained and drawn than usual, but at least she looked better than she had a week ago. Color had come back to her cheeks, and she wasn’t racing to the rail to throw up quite as often as she had been.

“How is your … stomach?” Joslyn asked cautiously.

Tasia smiled, reaching out to pat Joslyn’s cheek affectionately. It was the most affection they dared to show outside Tasia’s quarters. “Still growing another life inside it,” she said. “Amazing, really, when you think about it. I must admit I didn’t think your apa-apa herdsman's trick would work.”

“Perhaps you should consider going back to the palace,” Joslyn said. “A battlefield is no place to give birth.”

“I plan to be home well before this child ripens.”

“I think that’s … optimistic.”

“Oh, stop being such a sourpuss,” Tasia said, heading down the stairs. “And come help me find a gown that doesn’t make me look fat.”

#

Bugles played and banners snapped smartly in the onshore breeze as Tasia descended the ramp from the Balus onto the dock a few hours later. Despite her ongoing morning sickness and weeks aboard a galleon, including surviving a hurricane, she’d managed to transform herself into the pinnacle of Imperial power. She wore a full, pale blue gown of Adessian silk, banded in white to match long white gloves. Her hair had been pinned up into a tight bun, her customary style whenever she was having a meeting of any importance. Atop it, she’d placed a steel crown with a single black onyx decorating its front – the same crown her father had worn when he wanted to project strength. It was the only one of the House of Dorsa’s many crowns she had taken with her.

Immediately behind Tasia were Linna and Joslyn; behind them were Brother Rennus and two Wise Men; and behind them were the other fifty members of Tasia’s personal guard, each of them in the black armor embossed with the crest of the House of Dorsa, oiled and polished to a high shine.

At a barked order from an officer, the two columns of soldiers lining either side of the dock lifted their swords in unison, crossing the tips above them, forming a shining archway of swords for Tasia to walk beneath. Joslyn scanned the crowd for danger, as always, even though they’d seen no sign of the Order of Targhan since foolish M’Tongliss had unwittingly delivered an assassin to Tasia’s doorstep. Just because they hadn’t seen any more assassins didn’t mean they weren’t there. Waiting. Lurking. Timing her strike for the one moment Joslyn let down her guard.

And now Joslyn wasn’t just protecting the Empress of the Four Realms, but also a prince or princess who would be Tasia’s heir. She hadn’t quite grown used to that idea, and she hadn’t yet decided how she felt about it.

Tasia being with child had been inevitable, she supposed. As Tasia’s marriage to Mace had been inevitable. At least the way Tasia’s pregnancy had come about was better than what it could have been.

At the end of the passageway of soldiers and their canopy of swords knelt Lord Albert of House Druet, forearms upon his knee, head bowed and gaze trained respectfully upon the dock as Tasia approached. A young man who might have been Albert’s son knelt on one side of him, fidgeting with his doublet; on Albert’s other side knelt a heavy-set man in an Imperial Army uniform, the tassels on his shoulders marking him as a general.

Tasia offered her white-gloved hand to each of the men in turn, giving them a moment to kiss the signet ring before asking them all to rise.

“Empress Natasia,” said Lord Albert once he got to his feet. “House Druet – along with the rest of the East – is overjoyed to have you and Imperial reinforcements here in Tergos.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” Tasia said, inclining her head politely. “Of course, I would personally prefer to be in Birsid, but I suppose landing in Tergos is better than landing at the bottom of the ocean.”

“Yes, Majesty,” Lord Albert said, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. But then his face became troubled. “We received word of the fleet’s troubles at sea. It was … disturbing to know you were in danger yet beyond our capacity to help. Once I learned you would be making port here instead of Birsid, we made haste and marched south with a detachment of our forces to meet you. The rest of your soldiers in the East still await you in Birsid, whenever you are ready to journey north to join them.”

“They are not ‘my’ soldiers, Lord Albert, but the Empire’s,” Tasia corrected. “We are expecting about ten more ships to arrive by end of day tomorrow. Once everyone has had a few days to rest, we will march north.”

The general next to Albert pointedly cleared his throat, making the flab of his whisker-covered double-chin quiver.

Lord Albert’s eyes flashed to his left. “Your Majesty, please allow me to introduce you to General Ambrose of House Pellon, and my son, Jesper.”

“So pleased to meet our new Empress,” boomed the General, bowing slightly at the waist. “I was surprised to hear you would be personally leading the campaign in the East to take back our lands and push back the barbarians. But I am sure it will hearten the troops to know you are with us.”

Joslyn had come across Lord Albert before, when he’d come to Port Lorsin to plead the East’s case before the council. It had been a bold choice, because House Druet was one of the smallest of the noble houses, not to mention one of the poorest. Joslyn had decided then that she respected Albert, who had a reputation for devoting himself wholeheartedly to his people. He even fought alongside the soldiers from House Druet, rare for a lord.

If the lordling Jesper, who stood quietly with his hands clasped before him, had been raised to be anything like his father, he would make a good lord one day. Joslyn judged him to be about seventeen summers, and the scar peeking out from beneath his doublet suggested that he, too, had seen fighting during this war.

But Joslyn disliked General Ambrose upon first glance, though she couldn’t say exactly why. She supposed her first impression was influenced by the fact that she’d met far too many highborn officers who used their positions merely to further their own careers and reputations rather than serve the soldiers who served them. Hopefully she was judging the general unfairly. Hopefully he was a competent leader and as capable a fighter as the soldiers he led into battle.

Hopefully.

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