A Shore Too Far

Chapter 5

The morning found me warming some of Gwey’s tea outside the tent while he slept. The breeze carried smoke from my fire out over the scrub and brush, diffusing the vapors until nothing remained.

At the tent city, Kullobrini soldiers were pacing off a long piece of turf a few yards from the Cloth of Blessing. I quit counting at twenty paces and sipped my tea.

Gonnaban rode into view from around the lookout hill and joined me at the fire.

“More mischief,” Gonnaban said, nodding to the black-skinned soldiers measuring some part of the earth between us.

“Maybe more mischief than you know,” I said, and tore a piece of hard tack with my teeth.

Gonnaban and I watched the Kullobrini as they staked out six lines of thread running parallel, essentially creating six lanes about two bowshots in length. Within moments, archery targets were trundled out from the makeshift city and placed at the end of each lane. As the merchant had said, the backstops were each backed with metal. I suppressed a shiver.

“By the Nine Fathers, they’re going to show off those bows of theirs,” Gonnaban fumed.

“So you’ve heard?”

“Aye, next we’ll see them flying, you watch,” Gonnaban said. “You know, we never did find who was running their camp with the princes gone.”

“I suppose that’s what I meant by mischief, Gonnaban,” I said. “Whoever leads them now seems to be rubbing our noses in their superior bows…or they know we sent in spies yesterday so now they flaunt some of our discoveries.”

“None of the lads saw any leader, though there were larger, finer tents that had guards, but at least two of those should be for the princes,” Gonnaban reasoned. “Some of the merchants wanted to deal directly with the leader, but the request was ignored.”

“Someone is being very cunning in there,” I said, smiling as my eyes searched the tents for answers.

“Bless us, General, I know that smile,” Gonnaban complained. “Don’t go enjoying this matching of wits too much. Being clever’s all fine and good, but they’ve got troops on our soil armed with weapons that bugger ours. And they’ve already lied to us, more than once if the sky be blue, and that’s a fact.”

I turned to Gonnaban, and the worry on his face shamed me. I had to admit I was enjoying myself. The situation was much the same as when I looked out onto any other armed host arrayed against me. I could read the genius of the force’s leader, read the intent in each unit’s placement, read the advantages and hazards of the terrain. Even though I knew there was a way to win, a way to drive them back to their master’s heels, the calculations needed to do so were delicious and satisfying. And admiring another mind’s war-work was satisfying as well, just as much as the bloody work of undoing it.

“I’m impressed by their leadership, Gonnaban, that’s all,” I lied when I could no longer hold his eye.

“That’s a dog without teeth, that’s what that is, General,” Gonnaban said. “Have you thought that when these folk turn their attention to breaking our mountain forts, their siege engines are gonna be as good as their bows? The forts are only as good as their walls, and if the Kullobrini take them we’ll face their men inside our own forts. They can allow any number of Haru up to Abringol’s doorstep.” He pointed energetically to the south. “Same holds if they want to take Abringol, assuming they just don’t lay waste to the city and march on down to your father.”

“Watch your tone, Master-at-Arms,” I warned, standing to face him.

“Begging your pardon, but I won’t, miss. You’ve got to shake yourself out of this, out of taking pleasure in the game,” Gonnaban said, standing to match me. “They’re putting some of their war arts on to mock us, and you can’t be lulled by the smarts of it. Clever or not, you’ve got to stop enjoying the gathering of the clouds and decide when it’s going to rain. Don’t let the fight be the end of the day. We do this for the kingdom, for your father, not just so you can beat another general or send an enemy running.”

“I know my duty, Gonnaban, and a soldier has no place reminding me of it,” I said.

“Forgive me, miss, but who else knows it better?” Gonnaban returned. “You said once that the lives of soldiers were a general’s coin to spend for the good of the people. And the Nine Fathers know you’ve spent your share, and saved as many, I shouldn’t wonder, but you’ll disgrace each of those lives if you’ve been doing this out of the thrill it gives you. If you and I were to go over each of our battles, could you swear on those lives that you didn’t maybe stretch out a fight a little or choose one strategy over another because it was more enjoyable? Could you swear to it, General?”

“You’ve said enough!” I shouted. “You’ve said more than your piece. You are confined to your tent with half rations until further notice.”

Gonnaban glanced down at my belt and out to sea.

“Is that understood, soldier?” I asked.

Again he glanced down at my belt, and said, sadly, slowly, “Aye, ma’am.”

He walked off heavily and disappeared behind the hill.

Only when he was out of sight did I look down at what he could have been seeing, and I found my hand gripping my sword, the blade already an inch out of the sheath.

The morning passed at a creep and a drag. Gwey woke at last and read my face well enough to leave his questions for later. The merchants and healers both returned to the tent city. The soldiers hidden among the healers were warned that they may have been discovered and to proceed with care. And we urged the merchants to press to meet with the leader.

Late morning, a message came from Eric. He had strung out his outrage as long as he could, but the princes were leaving after lunch, putting the pair back in my hands by late afternoon or early evening. Eric had little luck extracting answers from the princes. They insisted that everything else they had said was true. They had only lied about their identities, and the forces they brought with them were only to guard themselves, the cargo, and their future colony, though there was no further word about what that cargo was.

Eric’s luck was better in our effort at recruitment. Eight thousand men, farmers and millers mostly, were training outside of Abringol, and our father was working to raise more in his provinces.

Eric also sent word from Admiral Pulgatt. His farlooks had identified what appeared to be Sea Fire launchers on the fore- and aft castles of the Kullobrini ships. And though he had gathered and manned some ninety ships, he did not think he could more than slow the Kullobrini fleet. I had to smash even that hope with a message to Pulgatt about the range of Kullobrini bows, and I counseled that the range of their launchers could be correspondingly as great.

The Kullobrini fleet could not be stopped. They could leave Pulgatt’s ships burning—or seize what they wanted—and blockade Abringol with ease. In the meantime, they could send men by boat to set fires along the wharf to draw defenders away from the fight. No help would make it past that fleet and no ship would make it out to send word for the help that could not come. Our greatest asset, it seemed, was that still no other fleets had been sighted, though that still left the possibility that the Kullobrini were helping the Haru take this land from Eric. Or else our visitors’ compatriots had been waylaid by storm, though it was hard to imagine a storm so great it could stop Kullobrini ships.

Ironically, one aspect of our bleak position provided entertainment for my men. A growing group of them gathered to watch the Kullobrini archers practice, their arrows little more than blurs. The force of their arrows’ landing was hard to believe, and the targets, backstop and all, would move visibly back with each impact. Young, dark-skinned boys would occasionally dart down the lanes to move the targets back to their original positions.

I searched the group of spectators for Gonnaban and remembered with a shock our argument that morning. Though we had had arguments in the past, never had he spoken so forthrightly to me. And never had he challenged my concern for the men’s well-being. I turned away from the archery range and went to deal with the latest batch of Kullobrini messages.

Late in the afternoon, the sea breeze carried with it the news of rain, and the many-colored folds of the Kullobrini tents fluttered and stirred.

I was thinking with some pleasure of our newly revealed princes having to ride hours in the rain when Gwey appeared at the edge of the tents. A number of Kullobrini soldiers and women moved with him, debris in the storm that is Gwey’s charm. He gestured grandly, adding some last detail, some flourish, to his story, and the soldiers laughed. Gwey patted several soldiers on the back in leave-taking and accepted hugs from several others. One of the women handed Gwey the reins to his horse. With a final wave, he moved off, the women lingering at the Cloth of Blessing.

Gwey glanced at the sky but did not mount his horse. He moved slowly, his eyes on the ground. After a moment, his eyes searched for me against the cloth of my tent. When he made out my dark armor against the dark cloth, he raised a hand and waved fondly.

I waved back, as his eyes returned to contemplating the ground, his course drifting toward me. When he reached me, he pulled himself from his thoughts and leaned in for a kiss, a blazing smile across his face.

I kissed him briefly and looked at questioningly.

“Profitable day?” I asked.

He shrugged and turned back to the tents, taking them in with a sweep of his hand.

“They build ships that can tame the Hard Water and they can breed horses that look like they could run across the Hard Water,” he said. “But…”

“But?”

“But they’re negotiating me down to nothing.” He shook his head. “I let my competitors in first, let them fight one another for the quick money, the coin of here and now, but my success comes from relationships—not deals. I learned early that you can’t just go for the minute; it’s about a long road that takes you both where you want to go.”

“Surely, you’ve had tougher potential partners, tougher negotiations,” I said, leading us back into my tent.

“They’re tough,” he said, “no question. But this is different. I keep pushing for trading agreements beyond today, for long-term commitments, and they keep pushing so hard the agreements fall apart.”

We passed my war table and took seats in the room beyond. I pulled a flask of liquor from a saddlebag and held it for him to see.

He nodded quickly and leaned back in his chair. “Three times now, three times I’ve given in and given in, but now there’s no profit and I’ve had to pull out.”

I handed him a glass.

“A competitor, Gwey. Someone’s beaten you to the punch.” I took a sip. “You’ve been bested.”

“Three times? On three different products?” He tossed his drink back and winced at its bite. “No, something else is going on.”

He looked up at the cloth ceiling of the tent and studied it for answers.

“You’ll figure it out,” I said. “You didn’t get where you are by letting something stop you. You’re good at what you do, no matter what Eric says.”

Gwey laughed sharply and held out his glass. Outside, the rain began to patter against the tent, the thunder an insistence in the clouds.

“I certainly hope I’m better than Eric thinks,” Gwey said, watching the dark liquid as I poured.

I glanced up at him, but he would not meet my eyes. I handed him his glass and he again leaned back in his chair.

“The Kullobrini are just a different sort of challenge, I suppose,” he said, his eyes moving to me and then down to the floor of the tent. “I just have to keep applying my considerable charm.”

“I suppose,” I said and leaned back in my own chair. I watched him closely.

Gwey shifted in the silence. He played with his drink, swirling the dark fluid around and around in his glass.

“Any word from Eric?” he said suddenly. “Any word on how he handled the princes?”

I didn’t answer and instead took a long drink.

He sighed and stood. He sat again and tossed his drink down, swallowing hard.

“Kara, I’ve…,” he began. “I’ve made a mistake.”

“I see,” I said.

“It’s not, it’s not…,” he floundered. He rubbed his hands together, clasped them, and unclasped them. “I knew about the Kullobrini. About the people, anyway, a year ago.”

“Gwey…” I stood now.

Outside, some soldiers laughed raucously.

“I was in Mun Dovar,” he said helplessly. “I was talking to the loom halls in Gullion, near the palace.”

“Gwey…,” I said again, my head reeling.

“It was nothing, Kara. One of these Kullobrini came from the palace, passed me in the street. His appearance, the black skin, is so remarkable, there was no question I stumbled upon a new people. I followed him to his ship.” He motioned out to the bay. “One of those golden beasts. We talked, had some wine. He told me about his land, his people.” He rose and reached out to me. “I haggled with him for a day trying to buy his ship and four more just like it.”

I glared at him, speechless.

“I didn’t know they were coming here. I—I didn’t know about—about any of this,” he said, motioning wildly. “It was business, Kara. That’s all.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me? To tell Eric?” I spat.

“How was I to know that they were going to land troops here? Families? Horses? I couldn’t know!” His face, usually broad and welcoming, was red with outrage.

“No, Gwey, your competition couldn’t know and so you kept it to yourself,” I snapped.

“Yes, that’s right! Not my competition and therefore not you!” he replied. “I’m a businessman and this was business. Not military, just money.”

“We could be under attack, Gwey. There could be another fleet out there now, waiting to choose another accidental landing. How will your business be then, Gwey, with Abringol in flames?”

“And what would you have done, Kara? Tripled the fleet?” he asked, raising his arms in exasperation. “He was a businessman, Kara, like me. Not a soldier, not royalty.”

“No, I imagine not,” I said. “If you were a soldier, you would report information valuable to Avandi’s survival.”

“No,” he said, his voice rising, “if I were a soldier I would perceive all the world as a threat and never leave the kingdom except to punish the enemies of my father.”

“You know nothing,” I charged. “This was your duty.”

“No, it’s your duty,” he said. “My duty is to earn money and not assume that everyone I meet is a potential enemy. How far would my business go if I were to confront each new person with suspicion? I can’t go into a business relationship believing that here’s another foe of the kingdom I need to report to the High General.”

“And yet we now have foreign troops on our soil,” I countered. “You didn’t want to see this new people as a threat because it put your profits at risk.”

“He was a merchant!” Gwey cried. “He was buying fabric! Not bows, not Sea Fire, not swords.”

“His nation could still be dangerous to Avandi, Gwey. If not the man, then what he represents, a new nation with its own motives and agenda,” I said.

“What other threats are out there, Kara? How many other peoples? How many other armies? I understand you have a duty to protect the kingdom. I understand that it’s your duty, but assuming the worst about the world, dividing it up into friends and foes, just forces you into judging other peoples before you really know them.”

“This isn’t a game, Gwey. There are real enemies and real allies,” I shouted. “My duty is—”

“Yes! Duty, duty, duty,” Gwey sang out, mocking me. “It’s your duty, and the fact that it consumes you doesn’t mean that it must consume everyone around you.”

It was his turn to glare. He threw his glass to the floor and charged past me and out into the rain. I followed. Despite the storm above us, the day was strangely bright.

“Even you still have a duty—,” I began.

“No,” he said, water streaming down his face. “I’ve done my duty, perhaps too late, perhaps for the wrong reasons, but I’ve done it.”

Gwey grabbed the reins of his horse and pulled the animal’s head close. Water pooled at his feet.

“I’m sorry,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m sorry a thousand times over, but you and I see the world very differently.” He began to lead his horse away. “Very differently.”

Against a brightly lit sky, dark clouds showered the world with rain and a rainbow began forming over the sea.

Just before sunset, the princes Ujor returned from Abringol. The rain still fell and the rainbow over the sea had grown so vivid, so large, that soldiers on both sides stood together and gawked and pointed.

Most of our cavalry escort for the princes had been left at the camps behind our lookout, but the princes’ honor guard and a twelve-man guard of our own still rode with the Kullobrini royalty. Only the hoods and shoulders of the riders’ cloaks were soaked, telling me that the rain ended just a few miles south. The group swung toward me after passing the hill and I stood from my fire to receive them.

Both Prince Eglanna and Prince Eldrazz dismounted and approached. When they were within a few steps, they bowed low, their tightly curled hair rich and dark.

“We humbly apologize if we gave offense, General,” Eglanna began, rising and speaking over the rain. “Our intent was only to protect our persons.”

“I see,” I said, waiting for the rest.

“Your Prince Eric has made us see the errors in our judgment. We should have trusted two truly noble rulers and divulged everything,” Eglanna proclaimed.

“Your apology is touching, if late,” I said.

“We have been overly cautious, Princess, victims of our own fears.”

“Perhaps so,” I said and glanced at Eldrazz to get his reaction, but he avoided my gaze and studied the tent behind me.

Finally, he said, “I owe you an apology, too, General. My words were sharp at our last meeting. You did not deserve them.”

“Consider it forgotten, Prince Eldrazz,” I said, rankling still under the memory. “Your journey to our lands has been a trying one, I’m sure. Even the noblest of tempers can wear under such conditions.”

“You’re very gracious,” he replied. “I fear that I take failure rather hard.”

“Very hard,” said the young Eglanna, and touched Eldrazz’s shoulder.

Eldrazz smiled and looked at his younger brother.

“Can I walk with you?” I asked after a moment. “Conversation, they say, is a foundation for trust.”

Eglanna motioned for me to join them. “It would be an honor. And my people have a similar saying: ‘Trust moves through words, lives through deeds.’”

“Nobly put,” I said, untying my horse and leading it toward the princes.

“If I may ask, Princess, what breed of horse is that?” Eldrazz asked as we walked our mounts toward the shivering walls of the tent city.

“A Valley Long, referring to its leg length,” I answered, “though no doubt that name will change after seeing your beasts.”

Eldrazz laughed and continued to study my horse.

“Are you a man of horses, either of you?” I asked.

“More so my brother than I,” said Eglanna. “This horse,” he said, resting a hand gently on his own horse’s muzzle, “is known as a Shepherd’s Mute as it cannot neigh. It is often used in the highlands by our shepherds and has been known to drive off wolves when left among a flock of sheep.”

“Remarkable,” I said, shouting over a low peal of thunder.

“Our father had a great love of horses,” Eldrazz said.

“He is no longer with you then?” I asked.

“No,” Eglanna said matter-of-factly. “His flagship sank at sea some years ago.” He glanced quickly at me. “What of you? I understand your father is widowed.”

“Yes,” I said, “my mother died when I was very young. Thus far my father has seen fit not to remarry.”

We fell silent and studied the puddles that dotted the road leading to their tents. The cavalry escorts had taken an awkward position behind us on foot, the jingle of their tackle and armor matching the falling rain.

Eldrazz pointed to the rainbow arcing over the sea. “A rainbow on a day with sun and rain at the same time. Do your people consider that an omen?”

I shook my head. “Though the Men of the Gray Valleys take it as a warning from their gods that a divine judgment is coming. To die on such a day is taken as condemnation from the gods, a punishment for the wrongdoing of the deceased or his family.”

Eldrazz listened intently and nodded. “The Mun Dovari, I believe, call it the Thatcher’s Curse. If your roof leaks on a day like today, your luck is said to be bad until two full moons come and pass.”

“I had not heard that,” I said.

Eglanna looked across his older brother to me, a pleasant and diplomatic smile fixed on his face.

“A people somewhere should believe that it brings good luck, that it is a good sign,” Eldrazz said softly, his head turned toward the sea.

We walked again in silence and I searched the tents for more information through their labyrinthine folds. The Cloth of Blessing was wet for the first time I had seen it and as we neared I could make out what must be long wooden slats every so many feet running the width of the fabric. It was as though a great wind had blown down a red cloth fence and it lay unrepaired and forgotten, fifteen feet wide but hundreds and hundreds of feet long.

We neared the entrance and some of its guards raised a hand to welcome a friend or comrade. Children had gathered as well at the news of our approach and laughed and pointed at things unseen by those to old to see anew.

We paused at the entrance and turned to one another. The escorts held back a discreet distance as we took our leave.

“I enjoyed our talk, General,” Eglanna said.

“It was too brief,” I said.

“I hope we’ll have another chance to speak,” Eldrazz added, a rare smile spreading across his face.

“I’m sure we will. There will be plenty of time for us to meet before you leave,” I said.

As I spoke, what I could see of the Cloth of Blessing behind the brothers began to sag, sinking lower than the level of the ground itself. I was confused and transfixed, realizing that there must simply be a depression in the ground into which the weight of rain was pressing the cloth. But as I watched the sodden fabric pulled at the wooden slats until some eight or ten feet of the cloth had collapsed. Through the sacred cloth, the forms of long stakes reached out of a narrow pit some eight feet deep. A spiked trench was being revealed by raindrops and chance.

My face was no ally then, and the princes tensed immediately and turned to follow my gaze. Their postures froze when they saw the displaced cloth.

“What have you done?” I whispered.

The princes shook off their paralysis and slowly faced me. Their faces too were in complete disarray and they looked at one another and back at me powerlessly.

“By the Nine Fathers,” I whispered again, my anger rising, blazing in me, “what have you done?”