Spy's Honor

“I’m fine,” said Morgan. “I can walk short distances, so I won’t be as much trouble as that. And if I’d known I’d be nursed back to health by an imperial princess, I’d take mad potshots at entire armies more often.”

“Oh, hush.” Rhianne pulled up a chair next to him. “What possessed you to do such a thing?”

“I’d say it was the wine.”

“You need to lay off that stuff.”

“I’ll take it under consideration.”

She folded her arms. “Are you patronizing me?”

“Are you mothering me, little girl who’s half my age?”

“I’m not a girl, and I’m not half your age either.” Rhianne picked up his hand. It was alarmingly cold. “You need another blanket.” She went to the bedroom, fetched one, and tucked it around him. She picked up his hand again—it was enormous compared to her own—and rubbed it between both of hers, trying to warm it. “You really do drink too much. Are you unhappy, Morgan?”

He moved his shoulders in an approximation of a shrug. “A man’s not made to sit around and listen to the gossip of his neighbors.”

Rhianne frowned. Morgan wanted to work, but he was crippled and all his skills and training were physical. His right hand didn’t work properly, and he had a hard time raising either of his arms above his head.

“I’ve been working up the courage to offer myself to that Mosari king,” continued Morgan. “But I can’t imagine he’d want me. I was useless before and more so now I’ve been shot.”

“The Mosari king? You mean Jan-Torres?”

“Whatever his name is,” said Morgan.

“You can’t join his service,” Rhianne protested. “You’d be a traitor!”

“Hardly,” said Morgan, “when the emperor cast me out first.”

“You don’t know anything about Jan-Torres,” she said. “He might treat you badly.”

“Nah,” said Morgan. “I’ve been in wars, spent time in hostile Riorca, and it’s a miracle I didn’t bleed my life away in the streets of Riat that night. Do you know how many military commanders will use their precious Healers to save the lives of enemy soldiers or civilians? None, that’s how many. But the Mosari king did.”

Rhianne considered this. “Aren’t you furious about him marching in here and taking over?”

“I don’t give a flying tomtit,” said Morgan. “And anyway, he can’t hold this place; not when the reinforcements arrive. I’m surprised he survived the arrival of the fleet—”

“The fleet’s returned?”

“Yes, there was a monster of a battle in the harbor. Didn’t you hear it? I suppose you’re on the wrong side of the palace. Jan-Torres must have won, because his men are still here. But our ground forces are unstoppable. He’s not here to hold Kjall, because that’s impossible. He’s not here for bloodshed, since I’d be dead if he was. So he’s here to cut a deal. He’s got Lucien by the cods—pardon my language—and you can’t blame a man for wanting to save his country.”

“No,” said Rhianne. “I suppose you can’t.”

36

Janto met with Lucien again the next day.

The young emperor looked up as Janto entered the room. “Have the fleet commanders arrived?”

“Not yet, Your Imperial Majesty.” Janto grabbed a chair from the far wall, casting a surreptitious glance at Lucien. The young man’s eyes were hard and calculating. He’d recovered from the shock of losing his fleet, it seemed, and moved on to damage control.

Lucien shrugged. “Every day that passes brings my ground troops from northern and eastern Kjall closer to liberating the palace.”

“We won’t be waiting much longer for the fleet commanders. They’ve had casualties to attend to, and emergency repairs. Also, the harbor’s a mess; it’s impossible to maneuver in there. I don’t envy the man tasked with cleaning it up.” He smiled.

Lucien folded his arms and sniffed. “I hope you came here with a better offer than the one you brought before.”

“Your fleet’s been destroyed, and you think I’ve come with a better offer?” He set the chair in front of Lucien and straddled it. “You’re lucky I’m not making it worse.”

“I’m not giving up Mosar.”

Janto shrugged. “For your sake, I’m sorry to hear that, since it will cost you the four warships and three battalions of troops you have stationed there. In a matter of days, the Sardossians, the Riorcans, and my own men will sail to liberate Mosar, and we are fully prepared to fight your outnumbered garrison.”

Lucien was silent for a moment. “Perhaps an arrangement can be made.”

“Give me your fleet’s private signal and send with me new orders for your men, commanding them to return home in peace,” said Janto. “Otherwise, I’ll destroy them. My combined army outnumbers your three battalions on Mosar, and you know I’ve got more ships. I’m making this offer for one reason only: I’m tired of bloodshed. I want it to end.”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Janto sighed. “Let me also point out that without those four warships stationed at Mosar, you have no fleet.”

“I have other ships.”

Janto chuckled. “You’re bluffing. Yes, you have more ships—the three that police the Riorcan harbors. Other than that, nothing. And don’t give me any horseshit about putting guns on merchant ships; they’re no match for real warships and you know it. We destroyed your Rhaylet fleet, your Sarpol fleet, and your harbor fleet. If you do not accept my offer—my gift, Lucien—you’ll lose the four ships at Mosar and be left with only the three at Riorca. Which might leave you in some trouble, since Riorca now has ships of its own.”

Lucien stiffened. “Stolen ships.”

“That’s a matter of opinion.”

The emperor leaned forward, his eyes dark and angry. “It is nonsense to speak of Riorcans possessing ships. Riorca is a province of Kjall and has been for decades. Those ships are in the hands of thieves and mutineers. Surrender them immediately.”

Janto shook his head. “You’re in no position to make demands. Even if you were, the ships are not mine to give. Take it up with the Riorcan fleet commander.”

“There is no Riorcan fleet commander! The man who calls himself that is an escaped slave, nothing more!”

“By some accounts, I am an escaped slave.”

Lucien scowled and folded his arms.

Janto rose. It was time to make his exit before Lucien could come up with any more ridiculous ideas. “I’ll see you at the negotiating table, Emperor. In the meantime, think on my offer.”

“Wait,” said Lucien.

Janto paused.

“Return my stolen ships, and I will accept your offer. My forces will leave Mosar peacefully.”

“The Riorcan ships are not mine to give. Even if they were, I would not betray an ally who fought at my side.” Janto headed for the door.

“Jan-Torres, what do you want in exchange for those stolen ships?”

Janto waved a dismissive hand. “If you want ships, accept my original offer. It gives you four.”

“I want the two Riorcan ships, and I’m willing to deal. What do you want? Money? Preferential trade agreements? Kjall would be a powerful ally for Mosar.”

Janto hesitated with his hand on the door handle. Indeed, Kjall would. This was exactly the kind of agreement he wanted. But at the price of betraying the Riorcans?

There was no chance Riorca was going to come out of this well. The destruction of the fleet would temporarily prevent the Kjallans from attacking Mosar or Sardos, but not Riorca, which shared their continent and