For the people who’d lived through that time, looking out their windows must have made for an awful reminder. Once again, Borelgai men-of-war lay at anchor in the Enzport harbor, red flags snapping from their sterncastles in the brisk breeze. They were huge ships, towering over the slender Prudence, their high, slab-?sided hulls broken by three horizontal lines of gunports. Men bustled about in their rigging, climbing the ropes and spars.
Behind those behemoths was the rest of the fleet, a flock of wider, lower transports with lean frigates at the edges like sheepdogs. The civilian ships of the harbor gave the whole group a wide berth. Enzport was mostly on the north bank of the Pale, and the docks there were crowded with merchantmen and fishing vessels. If she hadn’t just come from Viadre, Raesinia might have been impressed at the sight.
Colored flags ran up the mast of the closest warship in response to a similar string flying from the Prudence. Sothe, Raesinia reflected, would have been able to decode them.
“Your Highness.” A young crewman, obviously overawed by the rank of his guest, edged up to where she stood against the rail. “With your permission, we’ll tie up to the Dominant, and you can go aboard. Duke Dorsay and General d’Ivoire are waiting for you.”
Marcus. She was so close now. She stared up at the mountainous ship, trying to pick him out along the rail. “Of course. Proceed.”
He saluted and ran off. Prudence tacked expertly to come alongside the larger vessel, then ropes were flying down from Dominant’s deck, and the courier’s crew worked hurriedly to bring the two together. A few minutes later, a long ladder unrolled from the man-of-war. Raesinia waved off any offers of help and grabbed the rungs, pulling herself up the side of the larger ship.
The men at the top of the ladder were clearly not prepared for this, and stepped back in some confusion at the sight of the queen herself awkwardly straddling the rail before she managed to get herself over. They stood stiffly at attention as she brushed herself off, immaculate in their red-?and-?white navy uniforms. After a polite interval, a tall man in a more elaborate uniform stepped over and bowed, doffing his bicorn.
“Your Highness,” he said. “My name is Captain Charles Brixton. Welcome to the Dominant, flagship of the First Squadron.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
“We have your cabin prepared, if you’d like.”
“I was told Duke Dorsay and General d’Ivoire are aboard,” Raesinia said, her heart thumping a little faster. “I’d like to see them.”
“Of course. I believe they’re in the chart room.” He snapped his fingers at a waiting sailor.
“My staff and bags will be coming over as well,” Raesinia said, as she followed the man. “Make sure they get settled.”
Brixton bowed again. Raesinia followed the sailor across the crowded deck, dodging barrels, coils of rope, and assorted tools. Carronades, small, short-?barreled cannon, were mounted at intervals along the rail, intended to fire grapeshot onto an enemy deck during a close encounter. A tight spiral stair led belowdecks, into a narrow corridor toward the ship’s stern.
The chart room was larger than any space aboard the Prudence, with a big table and dressers full of maps, notes, and cartographers’ tools. At the moment, the Dominant’s own paper charts had been pushed aside, replaced with the unrolled leather maps that the army used in the field. Standing around the table were Duke Dorsay, General Fitz Warus, and the young woman captain Raesinia recognized as Winter’s second in command.
And Marcus. He looked much as he had when Raesinia had last seen him, beard well trimmed, uniform neat and clean. She realized she’d expected to be charging to the rescue again, as in Murnsk, and to find him battle-?worn and exhausted. He must have been here at least a week, if Dorsay kept to the timetable, she told herself. Don’t be silly. He looked up at her, and his eyes widened, but just for a moment. Then he was staring at the map again, and something had gone tight in his face.
“Your Highness,” Dorsay said, stepping around the table with a warm smile. “Welcome. Your journey was clearly swift. I hope it was uneventful as well?”
“Entirely,” Raesinia said. “And I’m glad to see everything has gone according to plan on your side.”
“Not entirely according to plan, but well enough,” Dorsay said. “We had to send the transports a considerable distance up the Pale, which put us a bit behind schedule. But we’re here now, and that’s what matters.”
“And the army?” Raesinia said, looking directly at Marcus. “What’s their condition?”
He looked her in the eye, his face rigid with military discipline. Raesinia’s throat went thick. It’s not just that we’re in front of the others. Something’s wrong.
“We have the First and Second Divisions,” Marcus said. “Along with some stragglers and detached units from the rest of the army, and the cavalry reserve, though we’re very short on horses.”
“The other divisions were destroyed?” The shock of that overcame Raesinia’s worry about Marcus. That’s tens of thousands of soldiers.
“We don’t know,” Marcus said. “When our left flank collapsed at Alves, there was a rout. Some units were probably dispersed, others mostly taken captive. Some may have changed sides.” He shook his head. “Unfortunately, we don’t have a great deal of information.”
“And Janus?” she said.
“There the picture has cleared up in the last few days,” Fitz said. “Though I’m afraid it still isn’t good. Reports have reached us that his main force is, indeed, pushing through the Illifen passes. There are some garrisons there, and the positions are strong, so it may take a little time. But there’s no question of stopping him completely. Once he’s on the other side, it’s an easy march down the Marak to the Vor and Vordan City.”
Dorsay cleared his throat. “General d’Ivoire has been very insistent that we make all haste for Vordan City. We were, in fact, planning to weigh anchor tomorrow. But I must repeat to Your Highness what I told the general—?I don’t believe that we’ll have the strength to fight a battle when we get there, not without waiting for reinforcements from Borel. My own suggestion was Nordart, but perhaps a rendezvous at Vayenne—”
“Your Highness,” Marcus said. “Before we discuss strategy, I need a moment with you in private.”
“There are decisions that must be made immediately,” Dorsay complained. “If we plan to switch the rendezvous to Vayenne, we should dispatch the Prudence with orders—”
“Please, Your Highness,” Marcus said. “It’s important.”
“Is there somewhere General d’Ivoire and I could speak alone?” Raesinia said. Her heart started beating faster again, and she felt her cheeks flush. She gritted her teeth. I’m the Queen of Vordan, for God’s sake, not a lovesick schoolgirl.
“Of course,” Dorsay said with a sigh. He gestured to the door. “Follow me.”
Down the hallway from the chart room was a well-?appointed cabin—?not, in fact, very different from the room Raesinia had occupied at the Keep in Viadre, except with all the furniture bolted to the floor.
“This is the commodore’s quarters,” Dorsay said. “While I’m technically filling that role on this expedition, we thought it best to reserve them for you.”