5.Death of Chaos
LXVIII
Nylan, Recluce
THE FORMER TRADER strides into the Council Room.
“You look upset, Marts.” Heldra pours greenberry into her mug, then wipes her forehead with a white cloth. “Darkness, it's hot this spring.”
“I am upset. Worrying about the weather! At times like this?”
“It's hot everywhere, Gunnar says. Underlying chaos, he claims.” Talryn fingers his mug.
Maris turns and steps up to the window. Beads of sweat ooze from his forehead, but he does not wipe them away. Finally, he turns back to face the other two. “Those Hamorian warships... now, they're intercepting traders from Candar.”
“And what might they be doing with those traders, eating them for breakfast?” The short and broad mage sets down the mug.
“This is serious.”
“Oh, I agree,” says Heldra, before taking another long swallow of the cold juice.
“They're paying half the declared value of the shipments to Nylan-or throwing them overboard.”
“That is serious.” Talryn leans back in his chair.
“You two, you don't understand,” snaps Maris. “That means Hamor gets the goods at half price and the traders from Candar still make some coins. They'll bitch, but they won't risk smuggling or breaking the embargo.”
“I said it was serious,” points out Talryn. “I might as well joke a little. There's not much humor anywhere right now.”
“They sank the Grestensea.”
“I presume because the captain didn't want his cargo tossed into the Gulf and tried to outrun them.” Talryn takes the greenberry pitcher.
“Everything he owned was on the ship. You think it's funny? I don't understand you two. I really don't. Enough is enough.”
“Oh, I see,” says Talryn. “You want us to send our mighty trio up against-what is it now?-fivescore armored warships, and say, 'We won't put up with this anymore'?”
“You're saying we can't match their ships?”
“We've had the trio there for half a season, and we've gotten four of their ships. They've added a score more. You can figure the arithmetic,” answers Talryn.
“Or perhaps,” adds Heldra, “you think we should take our two thousand-odd armed Brothers and marines and send them out against the close to ten thousand Hamorian soldiers already in Candar? They should charge the Hamorians-using good black steel swords-and let themselves get cut down by those nasty new Hamorian rifles? That's good arithmetic, too.”
“What are we going to do?” demands Maris. “All you do is ask impossible questions.”
“You want direct action, like everyone new to the Council does,” points out Talryn, “like I once did. But we don't have the resources for the actions you want. We can whittle away at Hamor, but we never have had the resources to take on the Empire directly, at least not since the fall of Fairhaven.”
“Impossible questions are important.” Heldra smiles. “They lead to answers.”
“Sometimes,” adds Talryn. “But we try.”
“What have you two come up with now? Do I want to know?” Maris slams his hand on the table.“No. I'd be a fool to want to know.”
“We'll have to take the fight to those who count.” Heldra draws her blade, almost carelessly, and sights along the edge.
“Your black squads?” demands Maris. “Is that wise?”
“Hardly, but we're beyond wise choices.” Heldra looks at the blade and replaces it in the scabbard. “We were selected, like you, Maris, to preserve order with a minimum of taxes and resources, and to avoid changing our society much. Every time we suggest something, you ask how we'll pay for it. Until it affects you traders, and now you want us to act-immediately. Well... we'll act, as best we can, with three ships and a relative handful of troops.”
“You're going along with this?” Maris asks Talryn.
“Rignelgio or Leithrrse?” Talryn asks Heldra, his tone somewhere between disgusted and idle, as his eyes ignore Maris.
.“Both, and the commander of the Hamorian forces in Freetown. Also the Hamorian fleet flagships. Of course, it will require pulling one of the trio off station for nearly a season. You'll recall”-she turns to Maris-“that was why we didn't send another set of black squads against Sammel. It would have taken one of the trio away from Dellash for three eight-days, and we thought that destroying Hamorian warships had a higher priority. We might have been wrong, but”-she shrugs-“it's so much easier to decide that after you've made the wrong decision.”
“What are you two talking about?” asks Maris. “Holding those who make decisions or who are responsible for carrying them out personally accountable for those decisions,” says Heldra. “You're mad.”
“No,” says Talryn slowly. “Not mad. Just late.”
“Would you mind explaining? I'm just a dumb trader, here because the Guild would like to know what happens before it happens-at least once in a while.”
Talryn leans forward, and his eyes darken. “One of the problems in dealing with empires and large countries is that those who make the decisions never suffer the consequences. One way or another, we have been moderately successful in visiting consequences on those in Candar who create unfortunate circumstances, such as the previous Duke of Freetown. You may recall that Duke Colaris did not attempt to repeat the policies of Duke Halloric toward us. Unfortunately, Hamor is more than a third of the globe away. Now that the Emperor has sent senior commanders and envoys, they shall have the opportunity to experience the same treatment as they have visited on others.”
“You are mad,” whispers Maris. He turns to Heldra. “You're going to lead them, I suppose?”
“No,” says Talryn. “Before long, we'll probably still face an attack here. We don't need counselors running all over the Eastern Ocean. We'll also probably have to explain this to the Guild and the Brotherhood. Everyone wants explanations when there's trouble. They can't be bothered otherwise.”
“You're both mad.”
Talryn shrugs. “No. If we do nothing, Hamor will own Candar over the next five years. If we try to fight directly, we will be overwhelmed. So... we fight those who make decisions, and those who command.”
“But there are others who will take their places.”
“For how long?” asks Heldra.