Kingdom River

'Darry… Darry,' the captain said, ushering Sam and the others down the deck. 'I believe I know the name.'

'My father, Elmer, has been to Island twice, I think, sir. On business.'

'Oh, yes,' the captain said. 'Heard him spoken of.'

'Admiral Reynolds had become a friend, I believe, sir. And an associate in developing larger milling saws.'

'Planks.' Captain Owen nodded, moving them along. 'Planks and sawn members; that's it. The admiral mentioned that to my brother some time ago.'

Margaret, stepping around a large metal obstruction left on the deck for some naval reason, raised an eyebrow at Sam as they went, at Pedro's already proving useful.

The captain's cabin, arrived at through odors of sawn wood, paint, damp canvas, and old sweat, was reached by a dim, narrow passage, then up a steep and even narrower stair. Its door was guarded by a large soldier – a marine, Sam supposed – in hoop armor enameled half-green, half-blue, from helmet to hip. The marine struck the butt of a pole-ax on the deck, then stepped aside.

Ushered in by the captain – out of shadow into light – Sam saw a room painted all white, fine as those described in Warm-time copybooks of sea travel, sea fighting. Spacious enough, though low overhead under massive beams, with crossed short-bladed sabers and two painted pictures on its side walls – one of a fleet of ships on winter ice, the other a yellow boat in stormy waters. The room was furnished with a woven blue carpet, a wide wood cabinet on the wall across, and round-back chairs at a polished fir-wood table bolted to the deck.

There were six large, wonderfully clear pane-glass windows across the cabin's back wall. Against two of them, big wooden machines, fitted with heavy windlasses and long steel bows set horizontal, were drawn up and fastened to thick ring-bolts with heavy rope and tackle.

Past these, Sam saw the river through the window glass; its current, surface roughened by the wind, streaked dark and silver in cloud-shadowed light.

The cabin was a chamber fine enough – as the warship was massive and complex – to put a provincial in his place. Sam had a moment's admiration for the Khan, for the perfect confidence necessary to assault this Kingdom.

The small captain waited while an elderly sailor in gray shirt and gray trousers – come silent through some trap or door – took the visitors' unbuckled long-swords, sabers, and rapiers, and then the cloaks to hang beside them on pegs along the near wall. 'Please…' Owen gestured to his beautiful table, and when they were seated, took a chair across from them.

Seated, Sam thought, just in time, as the ship suddenly rolled steeply to the right… then seemed to swing half-around, timbers groaning as they took the strain.

'I can offer you berry juice,' the captain said, 'imperial coffee, or imperial chocolate. No vodka or barley whisk, I'm sorry to say. Queen's ships carry no liquors.'

'Juice would be appreciated,' Sam said. 'And my men?'

'Are being attended to, milord.'

' 'Sir' will do, Captain. I don't require 'milord'ing.'

'As you wish… sir.' Captain Owen smiled, and sat silent while the old sailor padded in through what seemed a pantry door with four silver mugs on a fine brass tray. He set the tray on the table, and handed the mugs round. To Sam first, then – with only momentary hesitation – to Margaret, then Darry, and his captain last.

Sam had heard that sailors toasted sitting, so he stayed put and only raised his mug. 'To the Queen.'

'To the Queen.'

'The Queen.'

The juice was blackberry. Sam had tasted it before, but never served hot as coffee. '… Wonderfully good.'

'You'll be my guests at supper, of course. We'll have a two-day run up to Island, milord – '

' 'Sir.' ' Sam smiled.

'Sir. Two days up to Island. The Fleet had been noticed, some time ago, of the possibility of your coming, though not how or when.'

'Events determined,' Sam said, 'as they must in your Service.'

'Truer words never,' the small captain said, and looked as pleasant as a narrow and ferocious face allowed. He reminded Sam of the champion Sonora jockey, Monte Williams, a bane of Charlie Ketch's betting-luck. 'The ship's honored to receive you, sir, and you'll honor me by using my cabin.'

'No, Captain Owen; I won't displace you on your own ship. But if other officers will be kind enough to make room for us, it would be appreciated.'

'… Of course, sir, if you prefer.'

The old sailor came back from the pantry with a silver platter of what seemed to be large honey cookies.

'Do try these,' the captain said. 'Peter claims to be a baker, though some doubt it.'

'An' haven't I baked goods for you since ever?' the old sailor said to him. 'An' taught you stem from stern when your nose was still runnin'?' He set the platter firmly down, and padded out.

'There you have years of shipping together,' Captain Owen said, 'from when I was a boy. And in battles and Gulf hurricanes. After such a time, you see friendship has overcome discipline.'

'And should in that case,' Sam said, 'or an officer's no officer.'

They sat silent for a while, sipping steaming berry juice… Sleet came lancing across the great stern windows, and as if discomfited by it, the ship seemed to swing and swing away. Sam was glad to be sitting; he had a vision of himself stumbling across the uncertain deck, perhaps vomiting, to sailors' amusement.

And having imagined that, he saw himself, Margaret, and Darry, as this veteran little captain must see them… Three young people, Margaret the oldest, but still three young people. Soldiers – scarred, though not by passing years – and all wearing tanned-sheepskin tunics, brown woolen trousers, riding boots, and hauberks of light chain-mail.

Pedro Darry, of course, also sporting his own gold hair-clips, gold broach, and jeweled rings, leaving Sam and Margaret comparatively unadorned, though she'd insisted on a wide silver and sapphire bracelet for Sam's sword arm – an imperial piece, acquired from the duke's baggage at God-Help-Us – and a massive signet ring as well, onyx scorpion on an oval of gold.

Which decorations, of course, might only add a certain barbarous air… So, three provincial soldiers sitting at the captain's table, young enough to be his children – and ignorant as children, both of sea war and the complications of Middle Kingdom. But still representing a land, a people, and a veteran army.

The captain would be making judgments, and likely others in Middle Kingdom would tend to judge the same as he. So, if a certain simplicity was bound to seem obvious to such people, then why not be simple – and certain. Let them grasp directness, feel its edge.

Sam set the silver mug down; it slid a little on the tabletop with the ship's motion. 'I won't pretend not to be impressed, Captain. Impressed by this ship, and the Kingdom it represents. You seem a formidable Service, the more so since we have no experience of navies whatsoever. My people are mountain people – though we've learned to fight where we have to.'

Captain Owen put his own drink down. 'Good of you to say, sir. And from what we hear, your army fights very well on any field… We also do well enough, and are going to do better, patrol the Ocean Atlantic in force – as we now patrol the Gulf and Carib Islands.'

'My father,' Lieutenant Darry said, 'spoke of the great expense of the Fleet, Captain.'

Owen nodded. 'And he was right. We are expensive. Good timber, imperial cotton and manila for sails and rigging. Long-leaf tempered steel for the catapults and mules.'

'And of course, your people,' Sam said.

'Yes, sir. The largest expense. Our rowers are serfs, but serfs must be fed, and well fed, to row a warship. Our sailors have River Freedom of course, and must be paid, as the marines are paid.'

'Furs and hide,' Margaret said.

'Why yes, lady – excuse me, Captain. Exactly; we can't winter-dress our people only in woven wool. It soaks in spray and freezes. We use sealskin cloaks when we can get them, other leathers when not. Those, usually oiled.'

'So,' Sam said, 'without supplies from Mexico City on the one hand, and Boston on the other, your Fleet might find itself in difficulty.'