'Do you think they will attack today?' Urikh asked as Eroduus crossed the aft deck and stood next to him, legs braced slightly apart to effortlessly counter the regular swell and roll of the ship's movement.
'I do not think so, prince,' Eroduus replied, his deep blue eyes showing disappointment. Despite his rough appearance, the captain spoke with the cultured accent of the Askhan nobility; for all his simple manners and common touch, Eroduus owned more than a dozen vessels and was one of the wealthiest men in the empire with estates in every province and a villa on the Royal Way in Askh. A powerful, influential man in Urikh's estimation, and one he had been careful to cultivate as an ally since becoming governor.
Urikh noticed that the captain was going to add something to his assessment, but had stopped himself.
'What is it?' said the governor. 'Come on, speak up.'
'I think you may have overdone things, prince,' Eroduus replied with a wry smile. 'Any Mekhani pirate who sees this fleet is going to shit himself and never come near the river again.'
'Would that be such a bad thing?' asked Urikh, ignoring the nobleman's crude turns of phrase. There was no amount of good breeding that would stop a sailor swearing.
Eroduus shrugged, gnarled hands outspread.
'If you plan to send a fleet like this every summer, it would work,' said the captain. 'As soon as these bastards see ships coming down the river in ones and twos again, I would bet first use of my sister's fanny they will come out of hiding quicker than a sailor running to a whorehouse. It would be better to bring them to battle and destroy their ships for good.'
'It worries me that these attacks have happened at all,' said Urikh. 'Nobody knew the Mekhani could build anything bigger than a rowboat. Are they using captured vessels, perhaps?'
'Not from what Liitum and the other captains told me,' replied Eroduus. 'These were new-built galleys, with a different rig to our ships. I do not know where they learnt how to construct such vessels, but I would say it was in response to seeing Prince Kalmud's expedition to the coast. That and the king's last efforts to hotwards have stirred them up, no doubt. Nobody had ever sailed these waters in such numbers before, so there had been nothing worthwhile for the Mekhani to prey upon.'
Urikh wiped the sweat streaming down his face. Noticing this, the captain gestured to one of his officers and a few moments later a pair of crewmen appeared carrying a canvas-seated chair, which they set down in the shadow of the huge sail. Urikh sat down without word, stretching his long legs out in front of him, hands in his lap.
'Perhaps we should split the fleet,' the governor said. 'Send a ship or two ahead as bait to lure out the red- skinned savages.'
'We could cram several hundred legionnaires into a couple of galleys and hold the rest of the fleet just out of sight upstream,' said Eroduus with an appreciative nod. 'All of the ships have beacons on their mastheads to signal warning. Once the Mekhani are committed, the captains would light the fires and we could sweep downriver and catch them without any problems.'
'Then that is what we shall do,' said Urikh. A breeze stirred over the side of the ship, bringing a brief but welcome moment of coolness. The young governor closed his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. 'Talk it over with Harrakil and get a plan organised by Noonwatch. Make sure there are no arguments. The liodons look particularly hungry today.'
Eroduus departed with a bow and a short laugh, leaving Urikh to contemplate the joys of authority. The prince allowed himself to relax, ignoring the prickling of heat on his flesh and drips of sweat down his back. It was good to have a plan, and it was even better when the plan was his.
II
Two columns of red smoke merged in the air downriver, dispersing swiftly across the trees to duskward, adding to the ruddy haze of the setting sun. The ships of the fleet were already moving at speed; the shouts and drums of the oarmasters had begun the first moment a smudge of crimson had been seen on the horizon.
Urikh paced slowly from one side of the aft deck to the other, keeping out of the way of the crewmen preparing the catapults. He clenched and unclenched his fists in nervous agitation, caught between the thrill of action and nervousness caused by the same. Warfare was a risky business and he had done his best to avoid being embroiled in its haphazard attentions; throughout his father's bid for the throne he had always counted on the protection of at least a full legion around him.
The Mekhani had made their move in a narrower stretch of the river, where the Greenwater divided into several channels as it passed through high banks of rock, the main flow no more than a quarter of a mile wide. Leaving behind the merchants, the warships raced along, foam spraying up around their rams, the rapid rise and fall of hundreds of oars turning the river to froth.
Irritated by his own restless behaviour, Urikh paced to the rail and stared down at the crew busying themselves on the main deck. He gripped the polished wood tight to hold steady and affected an air of unconcern, while inside his stomach lurched not just with the motion of the ship but the thought of the impending chaos of battle.
Feeling slightly repulsed at his own fear, his thoughts turned to his brother, Jutaar, at that moment leading a legion in Salphoria somewhere. As youngsters it had always been Jutaar that would be the first into any potentially dangerous situation, whether investigating caves in the mountains above Askh or sneaking into the private gardens of the neighbours to spy on the womenfolk getting dressed. When faced with own his hesitance, Urikh reassured himself that it was natural for a sane and intelligent man to feel fear; and that his brother was too stupid to know when to be properly afraid.
Far from the steady glide Urikh had experienced on the previous days of the journey, the ship crashed through the water in a series of surges, hurled across the water with every draw of the sweeps, the whole vessel shuddering as the drumbeat boomed and two thousand and four hundred men threw their weight forward in unison. The alternating sensations of acceleration and slowing put Urikh in mind of a charging ailur, legs bunching and releasing, muscles tensing and relaxing.
He took a deep breath and turned his attention to the other ships, many so close to each other that their oars were almost touching. His apprehensions about fighting evaporated as he looked at the might of Askhor crowded around him. Urikh could appreciate the sense of power and achievement his father felt when he led a legion into battle; though he could not quite comprehend Ullsaard's apparent addiction to war that had driven him to personally lead the invasion of Salphoria.
This was what being a governor — being a Prince of the Blood — was meant to feel like.
The prince gloried in the spectacle of thousands of men, the effort and resource represented by this fleet and its crew, all bent to a common purpose: the execution of Urikh's will. To rule was not to sit on chests filled with askharins, or to have one's pick of any maiden for the royal bed. The reward for being in charge of the greatest empire ever created was not the politics and the negotiations — though Urikh enjoyed manipulating others. The simple exercise of power, the ability to enact one's plans and desires without hesitation, to command the loyalty and effort of countless servants, was the benefit of the Blood.
Urikh realised he was grinning, hand slapping the rail in time to the oar-drums. He glanced around the aft deck to see if anyone had noticed; standing next to the three men hauling on the tiller, Eroduus caught Urikh's gaze and smiled back with a wink.
'And those limp pricks back in Askh wonder why I bought a fleet,' the captain called out. 'There is not a race or blood duel at Maarmes that could match this, eh?'
Urikh laughed back, forgetting for a moment to appear stately and in control. He sneered at himself for the indiscretion and turned his back on Eroduus, his mood soured by the captain's intrusion.
Other than exchanging shouts with the crews of the closest ships, there was no way for the fleet captains to communicate with each other. Urikh could see nothing of the enemy ships from his vantage point, forced to listen for the sporadic shouts coming from the mastheads. He heard the cry of sails being sighted two miles downriver and waited impatiently for the number to be confirmed. The merchants who had been forced back by the pirates had claimed they were set upon by at least six vessels. Urikh hoped they were all in the water to be sunk; if he could deal with this situation with one act, it would be all the better.
