Chapter Eight

Carann, Royal Palace

A holographic map hovered in the center of the council chamber, depicting the Dozen Stars/Imperial border; the former side was illuminated in blue, and the latter in violet. Glowing dots with text floating above them signified inhabited star systems, while flashing arrows indicated the likely paths the Empire’s armada would take as it advanced. The map rotated slowly in midair, and Duke Mardoban stood beside it.

“Here you can see we have calculated the most likely course of attack the Empire’s forces will make,” the former regent was saying. “Tashir Duchy shares the longest border with the Empire of any duchy in the Kingdom; of the dozen likeliest scenarios for the invasion our simulators have played out, ten of them will strike at this Duchy first, with the goal of taking Tashir itself as a staging ground for pressing further into the Dozen Stars. From there, they will be able to threaten several of our other worlds, including Aurann, Kern, and Carann itself.”

Arta watched Digran Tassis lean forward, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “All warfare is based on deception; my people learned that fighting Respen on Aurann. If Tashir is the most obvious target, then won’t that make whoever is in command of the Empire’s armada more likely to avoid it and hit elsewhere, for the element of surprise?”

“It’s possible,” Mardoban said, “but I think it’s unlikely, for several reasons. Tashir is squarely in the invasion’s path, and though its defenses are not as strong as those at Sakran, Orlanes or Carann, they’re strong enough. The armada would have to go out of its way to cut around Tashir to hit another duchy in force, and that will make it harder for them to maintain supply lines and communication back home. And it would leave Tashir itself as a knife pointed at their back. No, I believe that if the Empire seriously intends to capture our Kingdom, they will have to take Tashir first.”

“Besides, Digran,” Kallistrae put in, “remember that when you were fighting Respen, you were a guerilla, using trickery and clever tactics against a more powerful foe. But here, the Empire is the more powerful foe. I’m familiar with the reputation of Admiral Decimus, the man who’s in charge of the Imperial armada and will likely lead the attack on the Dozen Stars; he’s intelligent but brutal. If he has a hammer – and he does – he’ll use it. And that hammer will fall on Tashir.”

Across the chamber, Ariana paled at that comment, and the other dukes raised their voices in a chaotic hubbub. Arta rubbed her temple, did a quick breathing exercise to calm her nerves and raised a hand for silence. “Ladies and gentlemen!” she declared. “Enough! Tashir will not fall if I have any say in the matter, but we need calm and order, not shouting! Tell me, Duke Mardoban, Duchess Kallistrae – what do you recommend?”

Ariana caught Arta’s eye as the queen sank back into her throne and smiled gratefully, while the two council members so addressed – both seasoned commanders – nodded at one another. “Our primary goal must be to reinforce the defenses at Tashir,” Mardoban said. “As it is the most likely target, but not the only possible target, we must also reinforce Aurann and Kern, which also stand in the potential invasion corridor. The Empire is strong but not invincible; if we can bleed them at our borders, we can weaken them enough to make it impossible for them to take Carann; Lord willing, this will be enough to drive Verus Licinius to the negotiating table rather than risk further embarrassment.”

“And what if it doesn’t?” Duke Menandrus demanded angrily. “What if Licinius doesn’t care how many lives he spends so long as he gets what he wants? Where will your pretty words be then, Mardoban? When my duchy is in flames? When Tashir is?”

“Need I remind you, Menandrus,” Mardoban said calmly, “that Orlanes has not escaped this war? My home is under threat as well – a rather more immediate threat than yours.”

“Yes, what of Orlanes?” demanded Vashata. “Mardoban, you say the Csarag have returned after all these years. What if they’re back in force? Are we to fight a war on two fronts?”

“If they are, we may not have a choice,” said Darius. “Unless you’d rather sell your people back into slavery in the Empire – or hurl them onto the tender mercy of Csarag razor-staves.” That reminder of what was at stake quieted the room, every council member mulling over the implications of Darius’s words.

“Enough, all of you!” Arta said, standing. “This is not a time for arguing, but action. Last night, I had my staff draft an official statement condemning this act of Imperial aggression and calling on the Dozen Stars to stand as one. You may read it on your computer screens. It already bears my signature and awaits yours; in the interest of unity, I call for this council to vote to adopt it. But you will see it will require us to act for the duration of this crisis as one nation, not twelve duchies at one another’s throats.”

“And who will command our united forces?” Menandrus asked. “You?”

That the council wasn’t rejecting the proposal out of hand was a sign of just how desperate the situation seemed. Arta smiled coolly. “Not I,” she said. “Though I am your queen, you know I am young and have little experience of military command. For the supreme commander of our united forces, a nominate a man we all know, who has experience in both political and military leadership – Duke Mardoban ast Orlanes. All in favor?”

If it had been anyone else, Arta thought that even in this desperate situation, the motion would have failed. But Mardoban was respected and had a long history of service; Darius and Kallistrae’s hands immediately followed Arta’s into the air, then Laodamia’s and Vashata’s, and Ariana, no doubt desperate for someone who could send aid to her duchy, and one by one the others’ followed. Menandrus was last, looking sullen but clearly not wanting to be in the position of the last holdout.

Arta smiled. “Well, that settles things a bit,” she said, though by now she knew the council well enough to understand that this would hardly mean then end of arguments or jockeying for position. “Supreme Commander Mardoban, I believe you have the floor.”

“Indeed,” Mardoban said, stepping forward once again. “Our first step shall be sending forces to reinforce the local defenses at Tashir, Kern and Aurann duchies; we shall also need to send a fact-finding mission to Orlanes, to determine the true extent and nature of the Csarag threat and whether or not there is any connection between their invasion and the Empire’s…”

///

“Well, that went better than I thought it would,” Karani said as she, Arta and Latharna left the council chamber.

Arta snorted. “None of them want to fight the Empire alone, for all their bluster,” she said. “And the Csarag scare them too. I’ll have to thank Darius later for reminding everyone just what is at stake.” Karani rolled her eyes at that; Arta ignored her and turned to Latharna. “If I could ask you a favor – could you go and visit Ambassador Preas for me and see if she can set up a call with King Luagh or the Realtran Prime Minister? No matter what Mardoban says, we can’t defeat the Empire by ourselves. We need Realtran.”

Latharna looked uncertain, but she straightened up and nodded. “I’ll see what I can do, Arta,” she said. “But I think the ambassador should be willing to hear you out. In Realtran we have no love for the Empire either.”

“Thank you, Latharna,” Arta said, taking the other young woman’s hands in hers and resisting the urge to kiss her right there in public. Apparently Latharna was thinking of something alone those same lines, from how her cheeks reddened; decorum finally won out, and they both coughed and looked away. Off to the side, Karani rolled her eyes again.

“Well,” Arta said, straightening. “That’s the easy part out of the way. Now for the hard part – I have to go talk to the press, and somehow break the news that we’re at war.”

“Your Majesty!” a male voice suddenly called, and Arta turned to see Darius ast Sakran walking towards them, his sister Tariti trailing behind him like a shadow. “We need to speak.”

“What do you want, Sakran?” Karani asked in a cold voice, but Arta raised a hand for quiet.

“I’ll admit I’m curious as to why you didn’t say this in the council chamber earlier,” she said, locking eyes with the young duke. A young duke who had, all too recently, been her enemy.

“Because some of this is… rather sensitive,” Darius said; leaning close, he gave a hurried account of his conversation with his father. Arta stepped back, her eyes wide.

“Can Naudar be serious?” she demanded. “A pardon, after everything he did? After he brought war to the Kingdom and nearly inflicted Respen on us all in the name of his own ambition? Why should I listen to a word out of his mouth?”

“I know you don’t trust my father,” Darius said. “I wouldn’t either, in your position. But, well, I feel like he was being sincere. Well, as sincere as he ever is, anyway. And if there’s even a chance he has the information he claims he has, can you risk not hearing him out?”

“I’ll consider it,” Arta said slowly. “Is that all?” Her gaze slid from Darius’s face to his sister’s, but Tariti gave away nothing. She was always hard to read; she possessed skill with the sword nearly equal to her brother’s but had always seemed to lack his streak of honor. Arta had never quite known what to make of her.

“There is one more thing, actually.” To Arta’s surprise, Darius turned to Latharna. “May I borrow Lady Dhenloc briefly? There’s a… matter I need to discus with her, knight to knight.”

“Latharna?” Arta asked. “Are you okay with that?”

“I think I can manage,” Latharna said, stepping forward. She and Darius regarded one another warily, two predators sizing one another up, and then they both nodded, seeming satisfied. Darius turned and began to walk back down the hall, Latharna following close behind.

“Wonder what that’s about?” Karani asked.

“I’m sure I’ll find out from Latharna,” Arta said. “That was admirable restraint, by the way. Or have you just had your fill of punching Sakrans lately?”

Karani shrugged. “What can I say? I may not like Darius, but like I told Dhenloc once, I’m not going to be the one to ruin that face by breaking his nose. Or any other part of it. Well, maybe if I took a holo first, but not…” she stopped suddenly as two knights in the green and violet of Nadar duchy approached, a grey-haired figure leaning on a cane walking between them. Duchess Laodamia had been a pillar of the council since before their parents were born; apparently her arrival was enough to quiet even Karani’s mouth.

Laodamia stepped forward and approached Arta, looking her up and down. “Your Majesty,” she said. “Do you have a moment? I think it’s time we talked.”

///

Curious despite herself, Latharna followed Darius down the corridor until they came to a lift; the Duke of Sakran paused to enter a floor number and then they stepped inside, the door closing behind them. As they began to rise, she glanced from Darius to Tariti; both Sakran siblings were determinedly facing forward in silence and resembled one another so strongly they might be mistaken for male and female versions of the same person. Despite herself, Latharna found herself sizing them up quietly; both of the ast Sakrans were renowned duelists, something she knew full well from experience. Tariti she knew she could defeat, though she had no doubt the young woman would make her work for her victory. Darius she was less sure about; they had fought before, but it had always ended inconclusively. A part of her itched to find out once and for all which of them was better.

She wondered if Darius felt the same way.

“So, do you think your father is sincere in wanting to help us?” she finally asked, breaking the silence.

“You were listening to that?” Tariti asked, her tone disapproving.

“I overheard some,” Latharna replied. “Enough, anyway. And I was talking to Darius.”

“I trust Father to look after himself and his interests, including his family,” Darius said finally. “And to think that he’s the only person who knows what’s best for us. I suspect there’s some truth in his offer, but I’m not sure how much. And he’s not liable to betray us to the Empire, in any case – whatever deal he had with Quarinis, he failed to hold up his end. If he tried to go to the Empire now, he’d probably be killed. He’s got too much of an instinct for self-preservation for that.” Darius shook his head at that last statement, as if saddened by his own assessment of his father’s character.

The lift door opened, and the three passengers stepped out into one of the palace’s guest wings; the one where the Sakran dignitaries were staying. Darius gestured for Latharna to follow as he and Tariti began to walk down the corridor, clearly knowing exactly where they were going.

“I’m curious about something,” Latharna asked. “Your father is one of the most famous people in the Dozen Stars, but I’ve never heard much about your mother. I hope I’m not stumbling into some shameful family secret, but I admit I was curious.” Curious because there was a streak of romanticism in Darius that she had noticed before, one which seemed unlikely to have come from Naudar. She wondered if perhaps his other parent was the source.

“It’s nothing shameful,” Tariti said. “Mother doesn’t have much to do with war and politics, though she’s from a well-connected family. She likes music. Composes it, actually. I’m not an expert myself, but I’m told her pieces are quite good. She always did seem disappointed that none of us followed in her footsteps.”

A composer, Latharna thought, feeling that she may have found part of her answer to her unspoken question. Part of her – the part that was a musician and not a warrior – suddenly wished she could meet the Duchess ast Sakran.

Before she could say anything else, Darius stopped at a door and opened it. Inside was the tastefully appointed sitting room of one of the guest apartments. Galen ast Sakran – who resembled a thinner, more sullen version of his older brother – was leaning against a wall and nodded at Darius as he came in. Another man was seated on the couch in the middle of the room, looking at the floor. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and when he looked up, Latharna saw his face was heavily bandaged, especially around the nose. Suddenly, she realized who this man must be.

“My lord,” the man said, nodding at Darius. When his gaze fell on Latharna, however, his eyes hardened, and if he’d been about to stand in a show of respect for his duke, he didn’t do it now. Instead, he just glared.

“Ark,” Darius said, then turned to Latharna. “Allow me to introduce Sir Ark ast Pontus, Knight of Sakran Duchy. A good man in a fight, but has a tendency to run his mouth, especially when he’s in his drink. Ark here was involved in a bit of an altercation the other night with Lady ast Katanes. You might have heard about it.”

“Oh, I did,” Latharna said, eyes narrowing as she regarded the man who had insulted her queen – and, she belatedly remembered, Latharna herself. “Why did you bring me up here to see him, Darius?”

“Because I may be the son of a traitor, but I am a gentleman and a knight,” Darius said stiffly. “I am responsible for the conduct of those under my command, and Ark’s insults and unfounded accusations shame me and Sakran Duchy.” He turned back to the knight. “Ark, I believe the queen’s sister already answered your insults on her behalf, but don’t forget that you also disparaged the honor of Lady Dhenloc. I brought her up here so that you may apologize to her, one knight to another. Am I clear?”

Ark barked a laugh. “And why should I do that?” he demanded. “Your pardon, my lord, but your father should’ve been king. I know you thought you were doing the right thing when you deposed him, but all you really did was snatch away Sakran’s rightful place on the throne. Doesn’t that embarrass you, to be a knight without equal in this Kingdom and to also be the person who cost our duchy victory?”

“My father had made a bargain with the Empire that would have doomed us all,” Darius said coldly. “And you’re wrong. There’s one knight in the Kingdom who is my equal. She’s standing here next to me.”

“That so?” Ark said, suddenly looking impressed. Apparently, Darius’s opinions still carried weight with him after all. “And here I thought she was just a pretty face the queen took a fancy too. But I’m not taking back what I said before. Artakane is a liar and a witch, and now I hear she’s gotten us dug into a war with the Empire – a war old Duke Naudar was trying to stop. And she had the gall to appoint this girl here as her Champion when she’s not even from the Dozen Stars! Everyone knows you can’t trust foreigners, and I say this one got Artakane wrapped around her little finger just because the little pretender went all ga-ga over her…”

He didn’t get a chance to say anything else; Latharna’s sword was out of its sheath, its tip pointed directly at his throat. “You had better choose your next words very carefully,” she said in a quiet, hard voice. “I don’t care if you insult me, but I won’t hear another word against Artakane. Do you understand?”

“So, there’s steel in you after all,” Ark said. “I guess Duke Darius wasn’t all wrong; maybe you’re not just an ornament. But I still say that you’re no real knight, Lady Dhenloc, just a jumped-up commoner who got where you are because you found your way into the right bed. And this is what I have to say for your witch queen!” And he spat onto the middle of the floor.

By Latharna’s side, Darius stiffened and put his hand on his sword, while Tariti gasped in shock. Galen, for his part, merely looked amused; Latharna idly wondered if he was rooting for her or Ark, or just enjoyed the prospect of conflict. But when she turned her gaze back to Ark, her eyes were hard. “I may not be from the Dozen Stars,” she said, “but I’ve studied your etiquette and I know you have just offered an insult that can’t go unanswered. I’d still be willing to let it go, but you didn’t just insult me – you mocked the honor of my queen, and as a knight and her champion, I can’t let that go.” She turned back to Darius and gestured with her sword. “I believe the things Sir Ark just said and did count as a challenge to a duel, correct?”

“They do,” Darius admitted, still looking stunned. Clearly, this wasn’t how he’d expected the encounter to play out.

“Then I accept,” Latharna said. “Gladly.”

Across the room, Ark looked back up at her and smirked, his eyes bright with malice. Perhaps he saw a chance not only to avenge his personal humiliation and broken nose, but the defeat of the Dukes’ Rebellion as well.

In Latharna’s heart, the joy of battle was rising once again in anticipation.