The Shasht War (14 page)

Some hours later when the eight vessels entered the harbor, guided in by
Viper
, Heuze knew much more and was already planning for the upcoming political struggle. The eight new ships were under the command of Admiral Beshezz, who technically outranked Heuze by several years of seniority. This was a problem that Heuze would have to finesse.

Fortunately the new ships were crammed with three thousand troops. That restored their army to almost ten thousand effectives, which surely would give them sufficient margin to be sure of victory.

The new ships, lead by their flag
Arrow
, slid into the bay and took positions in a line, a quarter mile behind the line of Heuze's ships.

Admiral Beshezz fired the first volley in the struggle between the admirals. A set of signal flags flew up requesting "commanding officers" to come aboard
Arrow
at once! Beshezz was announcing his seniority in the most public manner.

Heuze chuckled grimly to himself at the sight. He thought this display might not go down well with one important actor in the play. He swung his glass over to observe
Hammer
, the ship that carried the Scion of the Emperor, Nebbeggebben. He didn't have long to wait. The imperial banner broke from the masthead, and signal flags rose beside it.

Admirals Beshezz and Heuze were both to repair at once to the Scion's ship. Heuze couldn't keep an impish smile off his face. Nebbeggebben was a withered thing now, half dead as a result of the plague, but he and his advisors were still keen to show everyone that they were ultimately in charge.

Beshezz had certainly got off on the wrong foot here.

Heuze bellowed for his barge to be readied.

"Care to come with me, Biswas?"

"I'd be honored, Admiral."

Heuze continued his effort to persuade Nebbeggebben to accept medical advice and treatment from Biswas. Anything to get the heir out of the clutches of the witch doctors.

The barge was lowered with whistles piping and soon rowed across to the huge hulk of
Hammer
. They climbed, even Heuze with his peg leg.

Once ushered into the main stateroom, they knelt down and bent their foreheads to the polished decking while the withered form of Nebbeggebben was helped in and placed on his throne by the priests. Nebbeggebben had never recovered from the plague. He could hardly walk now, and spent most of his time dozing in a cot. But he had retained his grip on power, and Heuze had not attempted to remove the Scion. Heuze preferred to let the situation mature further before he risked any action. Failure, he knew, would mean death at the hands of the priests, his heart torn out and offered to the Great God.

Listening to the sounds of the priests helping the Scion into his seat, Heuze recalled another time he had come to this room. On that occasion he had been given the stark choice, either cut off his own little finger or have his heart torn from his chest by the priests. The feel of the knife resting on his finger would never leave his memory. But, following this most recent defeat he had not been made to expiate in such dramatic fashion. General Hustertav had paid the price instead. Nebbeggebben had deliberately not blamed the admiral, thus preserving his life.

Heuze had still heard nothing of Beshezz, which gave him some satisfaction. He hoped his new rival would take his sweet time about arriving on the scene.

"Admiral, welcome," said the whispery voice of the Scion of Aeswiren.

Heuze raised his head, but remained kneeling, holding onto his crutch to stay upright. "Thank you, my lord."

"We appreciate your prompt response to our command."

Heuze bowed his head again but said nothing, enjoying the implied rebuke to the absent Beshezz.

"So," whispered Nebbeggebben. "What do you think I should do, Admiral?"

"Well, my lord, there are three thousand fresh troops. We have enough now to field two armies. I think we should accelerate our plans for a fresh campaign."

"You do? Though our previous campaigns have been anything but successful?"

"Yes, my lord. I have appointed General Dogvalth to command the army. He is aware of your concerns."

"Mmmm, and Dogvalth saw what happened to Hustertav, did he not?"

"He was in the front row, my lord. He was spattered with the holy drops of crimson."

"Ah, the rain of He Who Eats. Well, Admiral, I hope that General Dogvalth will do a better job. Because if we suffer a third defeat, then I will be forced to accede to the demands of the priests and you will go to He Who Eats yourself."

Heuze nodded. "Yes, my lord, of course. I would expect nothing else. Such failure cannot be tolerated."

There came a snort of amusement from the withered heir.

"Good, that's the spirit, Admiral. That's what the Emperor expects in those who serve him."

"Indeed, my lord." Heuze and Biswas were careful to press their foreheads to the floor again at the mention of the Emperor himself.

"As it happens, Admiral, I agree with your proposition. I think we should accelerate our attack plan. Perhaps we can catch the monkeys napping and destroy them. I would like to spend next winter in more comfortable surroundings than this ship. Which means we must take over one of the monkey cities."

Cities? Heuze was surprised, even shocked, to hear Nebbeggebben describe the monkey places as "cities." The priests were listening, and the priests had preached consistently that the monkeys were nothing but animals and therefore incapable of building cities. Any cities that actually existed, had been built by real men and usurped by the monkeys. It was implausible, but the priests were sticking to it. They didn't really have a choice. The worship of their Great God did not allow it.

Now they heard the whistles and drums as Admiral Beshezz was helped up the side of the ship from his barge.

"That sounds like a good plan, my lord."

The door opened and Beshezz was announced. Nebbeggebben waved languidly to the newcomer. Heuze and Filek remained on their knees with their gaze fixed on the Scion. They heard the new admiral enter with a heavy tread and then drop down for the ritual prostration.

"Welcome, Admiral Beshezz. You seem weary. You have been traveling for a long time?"

"Yes, my lord, our trip has been long and wearying."

"And you were slow to respond to my signal. More weariness?" There was an edge in Nebbeggebben's papery husk voice.

"I came as quickly as I could, my lord. There were matters that had to be attended to."

"Mmmm." Nebbeggebben left a long pregnant silence to hover over their heads. Heuze risked a glance to his side. Beshezz was a mountain of a man, wearing a red coat and white trousers.

"Tell me, when did you set out from Shasht?"

"One year ago, my lord. We put out from Shasht harbor with ten vessels."

"But now there are only eight?"

"Yes, my lord. We were caught in the father of all storms four months ago, and two ships were lost and never seen again."

"This is sad news. Truly our expeditions to this accursed place have not been blessed by He Who Eats. Since He Who Eats is beyond criticism, we must turn to the priests for an explanation. So far I have heard little that is convincing."

Heuze understood the remark about the monkeys' cities. Nebbeggebben was clearly blaming the priests for the calamities that had fallen on the expedition. Heuze filed that thought away. Perhaps they'd be able to get rid of the priests altogether someday soon.

"So, apart from losses, what else have you brought me?"

Nebbeggebben was also showing Beshezz who was in charge here.

"Well, my lord, we have almost three thousand soldiers aboard our ships. We are overloaded in fact."

"And no doubt you are hungry."

"Yes, my lord, we desperately need food. We have been getting by on thin gruel for the last month."

"Well, we have some food, but not that much. Our lives here in the new world have been harder than many would have ever imagined."

Heuze kept his eyes downcast. Old Nebbeggebben had certainly paid a price. The plague had left him as this broken husk. No wonder he was bitter. And from Chalmli, Nebbeggebben's chamberlain, Heuze knew that Nebbeggebben's life in Shasht had been one long debauch. In fact, his dissolute life was the reason that Aeswiren had turned against his heir and dispatched him halfway around the world to found the colony.

"Still, we can afford to feed the new soldiers. You will put the men ashore at once."

"Ur, thank you, my lord."

Heuze chuckled inwardly. Why did he think that this was the last thing Beshezz wanted to do? For a year now Admiral Beshezz had been the ruler of his own little world. Those three thousand soldiers were "his." And now he would have to give them up as well as any dream he might have had of a separate kingdom of his own.

But now came the real knife to the heart. Nebbeggebben's whispery voice lightened for a moment.

"Good. I want complete dossiers on all your officers. Send them to me at once."

Heuze knew that the papers would go to the agents of the Hand. Any officers with troublesome aspects to their careers might soon find themselves on the receiving end of a dagger in the night or a dose of poison in their grog. Beshezz would lose his most ardent followers, too.

"Now, the matter of command. Knowing military men as well as I do, I know that both of you admirals are fretting under the surface about who is to be my commander in chief."

Heuze sucked in a breath. Here it came. Sooner than expected.

Nebbeggebben paused for a long moment to let them suffer.

"I will keep Admiral Heuze, here, as the commander. Admiral Beshezz, you will accept a position as sub-admiral to Admiral Heuze, understood?"

There was a dead silence. Beshezz had seniority and besides, he came from the mighty Beshezz clan. This was a tremendous blow to his pride. Heuze was a relative nobody, a career officer and little more. Certainly he had little in the way of connections at court, whereas Beshezz had uncles who regularly prostrated at the feet of Aeswiren himself.

"Uh, yes, my lord. Uh, may I add something?"

"Yes, you may," said Nebbeggebben in a mildly threatening husk. Heuze wanted to giggle. Beshezz was clearly cutting his own throat.

"I have messages from your father and uncles, personal messages."

Heuze nodded to himself. Beshezz skirted the dangerous area of challenging Nebbeggebben, but announced his own connections to the high and mighty in the home country.

"Excellent, you will leave them with my chamberlain. I look forward to reading the words of my father."

"Yes, my lord." Beshezz was not stupid enough to say anything more directly. Pity. Heuze kept his eyes down and his face completely expressionless.

"Now, Admiral Heuze?"

"Yes, my lord." He dared to look up once more. Nebbeggebben's gaunt, wasted features had the look of a reptile, long dead, dried out and preserved.

"You will convene a War Council to be held here. General Dogvalth and his staff, yourself, the good surgeon Biswas will attend. We will go over our plans."

"Yes, my lord." Oh, wonderful, cutting the huge oaf Beshezz out of it completely.

"Beshezz, you will attend, but as an observer only, is that understood?"

"Yes, my lord." Beshezz obviously didn't know whether to be grateful or outraged. Heuze kept any bitterness out of his face. What had been a complete victory was now a partial defeat. Nebbeggebben was staring at him with peculiar intensity. Heuze wondered briefly if any derogatory remarks he'd made about the Scion had been passed back to him. There had been times during the winter when, in his cups with Pukh, he might have said something dangerous. On many occasions during the difficult winter months, Heuze had wanted to simply put the Scion and all the fornicating priests to the sword and toss their bodies to the fish.

Now the situation had changed again. Heuze's position had weakened because of Hustertav's defeat. By not demanding that Heuze expiate on the altar of Orbazt Subuus, He Who Eats, Nebbeggebben had quietly placed him in his debt.

And now there was this Admiral Beshezz, ready to be appointed to fill Heuze's shoes whenever necessary.

Heuze hated the feel of these reins upon him, but he had to be grateful for the mercy shown him and for the chance to regain the upper hand. All that was needed was a damn good victory. Once they had that, everything would swing back into his favor again. They just had to get a foothold here in the new land and beat the fornicating, sodomistic monkeys!

Weeks passed. The fleet bustled with preparations for the coming campaign. Whenever possible, about twice a week, Filek took the opportunity to dine in his daughter's cabin on the women's deck.

One evening in the fourth week following Admiral Beshezz's arrival, they were together for a pleasant dinner of fish stew and pastries stuffed with the sour sweet "newfruits" that grew in the new world.

After their meal they read poems from Banness, the poetess of Shasht. But after several of these amusing, witty poems, neatly skewering the overpaid and overblown characters of literary Shasht society one hundred years before, Filek reluctantly closed the slim book and wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes.

Simona had a fine color in her cheeks from the fun.

"That woman was such an astute observer of human beings!"

"Yes, my dear, a woman with a wonderful mind." Filek hunched closer and began to speak in a different tone, hurried, barely more than a whisper.

As Simona listened she felt the old dread returning. Their position was no longer invulnerable.

"The admiral, my dear, I think he is hanging on by his fingertips." There was a sound, Filek paused and both listened carefully. On the women's deck there was always the chance of someone trying to eavesdrop on a private conversation. The sound was not repeated, and Filek leaned even closer before continuing.

"The Scion is playing the two admirals against each other. Admiral Heuze feels his position weakening."

"How does Admiral Beshezz speak to you?"

"He doesn't. Admiral Beshezz appears inimical to the cause of science. He disdains any attempts to improve his ships' surgeries. That is one of the issues between him and Heuze. One of the issues that the Scion is using to keep them both off balance."