Off Armageddon Reef (66 page)

“How bad is it?” Earl Gray Harbor asked.

Oil lamps burned brightly, illuminating the Privy Council chamber, and a huge chart was spread out across the table. Copied from the “Archangel Hastings'” maps, it showed all of Charis and stretched as far east as the western coast of the island of Zebediah. To the west, it showed the Kingdom of Tarot, the eastern coast of Armageddon Reef, and most of the Sea of Justice.

Gray Harbor was there, and King Haarahld, but most of the Council was absent. Wave Thunder sat in his accustomed place, and Bishop Maikel sat to the king's left, while Merlin and Cayleb sat together, facing the king down the length of the polished table. Lieutenant Falkhan stood at Cayleb's shoulder, and the prince wore a scruffy-looking tunic and well-worn trousers. They'd made a fast passage back from Helen Island aboard one of the Navy's new schooners, and Cayleb hadn't bothered to change into court dress.

Aside from the six of them, the council chamber was empty as Gray Harbor's question hung in the air.

“About as bad as it could be,” Cayleb said grimly, after a moment. He nodded sideways at Merlin. “According to Merlin's visions, the Group of Four's obviously decided it's time to eliminate Charis once and for all.”

“What have you seen,
Seijin
Merlin?” Bishop Maikel asked softly, and Merlin looked at him.

“Go ahead and answer him, please, Merlin,” Haarahld said. Merlin looked at the king, in turn, and Haarahld smiled wearily. “I keep no secrets from my confessor. Of course, I understand
he
keeps a few from his religious superiors.”

“The seal of the confessional is inviolable, Your Majesty,” Staynair said serenely.

“Even against the demands of your own archbishop?” Haarahld's tone was that of a man engaged in a long-standing discussion.

“The conscience of a priest, and what he believes God requires of him, outweigh the demands of any mortal power,” Staynair replied. Merlin's eyes widened slightly at hearing such a statement out of a bishop of the Church, even now, but Staynair continued in that same, calm voice. “That would be true even if the archbishop demanding I violate the seal of the confessional were worthy of the ring he wears. Which, unfortunately, he isn't.”

“You see, Merlin?” Haarahld produced another smile. This one looked genuine, almost lighthearted. “What's a monarch to do when he falls into the hands of a spiritual counselor like this one?”

“I don't know, Your Majesty,” Merlin said, after a moment. “But a king could find himself in far worse company, I believe.” He half-rose and bowed to the bishop.

“I would prefer to hope we won't all find ourselves giving a personal account to God ‘in my company' in the immediate future,
Seijin
Merlin,” Staynair said dryly. “So, if you please, tell us what you've seen.”

“Of course, Your Eminence.”

Merlin seated himself once more, then cleared his throat.

“I don't know what exactly was in Archbishop Erayk's dispatches,” he began. “Based on what I'd seen and heard during his pastoral visit, it seemed clear he intended to be as reassuring and placating as possible, if only to protect himself. If that's what he meant to do, though, he obviously failed. Chancellor Trynair's agents have been in contact with Hektor, Sharleyan, Rahnyld, and Gorjah. They
haven't
contacted Nahrmahn yet, but I expect they intended to. There was a nasty storm in the Chisholm Sea last five-day. My guess is that the courier boat crossing the water gap from Chisholm to Eraystor got caught in it. At any rate, I can't see them putting this together without bringing him in on it, especially since Archbishop Borys specifically suggested that they concentrate their forces forward at Eraystor Bay.”

He shrugged, and continued.

“Hektor, obviously, was delighted to hear from the ‘Knights of the Temple Lands' and fell all over himself accepting their offer of support. Sharleyan was less pleased about it. In fact, she was furious, but she and Green Mountain can't see any way to refuse and survive.

“Gorjah's not quite so indecently happy about it as Hektor, and he probably wouldn't have had the courage to contemplate switching sides on his own. But with Makgregair leaning on him for Trynair, he's informed Hektor's ambassador that Hektor can count on the Tarotisian Navy, as well.”

“And Rahnyld?” Staynair asked as Merlin paused.

“And Rahnyld is almost as delighted by the prospect as Hektor,” Merlin said flatly. “He's up to his eyebrows in debt to the Temple, and Trynair's agreed to forgive the interest on almost all his loans. Not only that, but the Knights of the Temple Lands have offered lucrative subsidies to Dohlar, Tarot, and even Chisholm to help defray their military expenses. As Rahnyld sees it, he gets plenty of return for virtually no out-of-pocket expenses of his own—aside, of course, from any of his subjects who may happen to get killed along the way—plus removing Charis from the list of competing maritime powers.”

“I'll wager his navy commanders are less delighted than he is,” Haarahld said with a grim smile.

“Malikai thinks it's a splendid idea,” Merlin replied. “Thirsk is a lot less enthusiastic. Not that he's going to say so, when the King's so pleased about the entire thing.”

“That's because Thirsk is a seaman, and Malikai isn't, even if he is Rahnyld's ‘high admiral,'” Haarahld said.

“I'm afraid I really know very little about the two of them, Your Majesty,” Merlin said, and Haarahld snorted.

“The Earl of Thirsk is about as sound a sailor as you're going to find in most navies. In my opinion, which is admittedly biased, I don't think he's as good as
my
admirals, but he's no fool, and he recognizes exactly what Trynair and Clyntahn are telling his navy to do. And how ill-suited his ships are to the task.

“Duke Malikai, on the other hand,
isn't
a seaman. He doesn't need to be; he has the birth and connections to command their navy, anyway. At heart, he thinks like an army commander, not an admiral. In fact, their navy's officially under their army's orders, and I'm sure he doesn't have the least conception of what a voyage of fourteen or fifteen thousand miles is going to be like.”

“It may not be as bad for them as we'd like it to be, Father,” Cayleb said quietly. The king looked at him, and he shrugged unhappily. “The Council's representatives have also been in touch with the Emperor, and with the Prince of Selkar and the Prince of Maratha. They've ‘requested' permission for Dohlar to use their harbors along the way.”

“I see.” Haarahld sat back and inhaled deeply. Then it was his turn to shrug.

“I see,” he repeated, “and it will make a difference. But they're still going to be operating at the end of a supply line—and a line of retreat—thousands of miles long. That's going to have an effect, especially on their morale and aggressiveness, and so is the sheer wear and tear their ships are going to experience. Especially after they clear Samson's Land and have to cross the Sea of Justice.” He smiled thinly. “Their galleys are less well suited to blue water even than ours are, and ours would have a hard enough time in those waters. And even without that, their bottoms are going to be foul, their gear's going to be worn, and unless I'm seriously mistaken, they're probably going to have managed to lose at least a few ships in transit, even if they have good weather all the way.”

“That's true enough, Your Majesty,” Gray Harbor said, “but it sounds as if the Group of Four's moving much faster than we'd allowed for.”

“They are,” Merlin agreed. “In fact, that's what disturbs
me
the most, in a lot of ways, My Lord. Archbishop Zherohm called on Sharleyan on the same day Archbishop Borys broached the entire idea to Hektor. They may want to preserve the illusion that Hektor's in charge, but it's obvious Trynair and the others are the puppetmasters. The Group of Four is telling Hektor's new ‘allies' what to do before Hektor even knows he
has
them, and when the time comes, someone—probably Magwair—is going to be the one really giving their navies their orders.”

“Which suggests they've decided they have to move much more rapidly than we'd believed they could,” Gray Harbor said, nodding sharply.

“Which, in turn, suggests we'll have less time to prepare than we'd hoped,” Cayleb added harshly.

“You're right.” His father nodded in turn and puffed out his cheeks thoughtfully.

“All right,” he said after a moment. “Let's assume Trynair and Magwair set this whole plan they and their cronies have come up with—and I'll bet you it was really Clyntahn's idea—into motion as soon as they hear back from Hektor. It's the middle of September. Hektor's acceptance can be back in the Temple by early October. If Magwair immediately sends the order to Rahnyld to get his fleet underway, it could be at sea by the third five-day of October.”

He ran a fingertip across the chart, north and west of Armageddon Reef, and his eyes were intent.

“Assuming it doesn't run into any storms or other misadventures along the way, it could be as far as the Cauldron by, say, the end of November or the first couple of five-days of February. What they
ought
to do is take their time and bring them up the Howard and Haven coasts, then in across the north coast of Tarot. They're going to take a beating, whatever happens, and any seaman would know they're going to need to refit before they're really fit for battle. So they ought to send them to Tarot and allow a month or so for them to recover there before continuing on across the southern stretches of the Anvil and around to Eraystor.”

He tapped the waters between Tarot and Charis with his finger, then paused. He looked around the table for any disagreement with his calculations, but he saw only nods.

“In that respect, the fact that Magwair's no seaman and they're in such a hurry may work for us. I'm not going to count on that until we know more, but if we're really, really lucky, he'll try to send them across the Parker Sea to come down around MacPherson's Lament.

“As I say, I'm not going to count on that, but I am going to assume Hektor's already started fully manning his active galleys and mobilizing his reserves,” he continued. “And Nahrmahn's going to do the same, as soon as they get around to telling him about the new arrangement. Assuming the fat little bugger doesn't do us all a favor and drop dead of apoplexy when he finds out, at least.

“That's unlikely to happen, unfortunately. But he and Hektor will both probably need at least two months to fit out and man the reserves. So, Hektor can probably be ready to move at least a couple of five-days before Thirsk and Malikai could rendezvous with Gorjah's ships. Nahrmahn's probably supposed to be ready by the same time, under Magwair's plans. Unless they get word to him quickly, though, he's going to be late getting his full strength manned and ready. On the other hand, he's a lot closer to us, so he's got less passage time to worry about.”

The king paused again, eyes thoughtful as he brooded down at the chart. Those eyes moved back and forth for several seconds, and then he nodded yet again.

“Since we're not supposed to know anything about this, and since the people planning this have even less naval experience than Malikai, they'll probably expect to have the advantage of strategic surprise. There's virtually no chance anyone could actually manage to move something the size of the Dohlaran Navy all the way to Charis without our finding out about it well before it got here, but they won't think that way. So, what they'll probably do, is use Nahrmahn's, Hektor's, and Sharleyan's forces to occupy our attention and tie us down defending Rock Shoal Bay and the Throat. Hopefully with a threat sufficiently serious to keep us from diverting any of our own strength from the immediate confrontation even if we figure out Dohlar and Tarot are coming.”

His fingertip moved back to the Charis Sea, between Margaret's Land and Emerald.

“If they're feeling really clever, they may try to pincer us between—let's call them the ‘Northern Force' and the ‘Southern Force'—at sea. That sort of thinking would appeal to a planner who's basically a land animal and who's accustomed to passing messages between widely separated locations faster than anyone else can.

“If they're
smart
, on the other hand, they'll simply combine everything they've got into one huge fleet and throw it straight at us.”

His right hand clenched into a fist and thumped the waters off Rock Shoal Bay.

“How bad would the odds be in that case, Haarahld?” Bishop Maikel asked quietly.

“Bad,” the king replied frankly, sitting back from the table and laying his forearms on his chair's armrests. “Assuming Hektor and Nahrmahn are able to get all their reserve galleys manned, and that Rahnyld and Gorjah can do the same, they can muster about three hundred and twenty between them. Chisholm has thirty in active service, and another fifty in reserve, so if Sharleyan's entire fleet comes in, they'll have roughly four hundred.

“We, on the other hand, are down to the eighty galleys of the active fleet, with no remaining reserve fleet, and right this minute we have a total of fifteen galleons in full service and another six, all converted merchantmen, in the process of working up. Assuming the Dohlaran Navy doesn't arrive in our waters until the first five-day of February, we'll have somewhere around thirty-five or thirty-six in service and another fifteen or sixteen working up. So call it a total of a hundred and twenty or so of all types, galleys and galleons combined.”

“Don't forget the schooners, Father,” Cayleb said. “We'll have at least twelve of them, as well.”

“True.” Haarahld nodded. “On the other hand, they won't be very heavily armed, and they don't have ships' companies the size of the galleons.”