“Is everything all right, my lady?” one of them shouted as he looked around warily. After Persephone told him that Vespasian was unharmed, he turned to see the ripped draperies. Then his eyes went to the dagger lying on the floor.
“Was there an intruder?” he asked.
“No,” Persephone insisted. “Your emperor suffered a bad dream-nothing more. I am quite able to tend to him.”
The legionnaire looked closely at Vespasian’s drained face, then back at Persephone. “The emperor looks ill,” he protested. “Does your grace wish me to summon a physician?”
Persephone shook her head. “No,” she answered. “Leave us now. First thing in the morning, arrange to have the shattered door repaired. If I change my mind about the physician, I will call for you.”
“As you wish,” the legionnaire answered. With that, the bodyguards saluted her and reluctantly exited the room.
As Persephone looked down into Vespasian’s sweaty face, she watched him go unconscious. Closing her eyes, she placed her palm to his brow. His mind had gone deep, but he was unharmed. Then she looked around the ravaged room.
This was far more than a bad dream, she realized. The craft has been at work here. But why, she wondered, and on whose orders?
Deciding to speak to no one about this until Vespasian regained consciousness, she stood. Raising one arm and calling the craft, she gently levitated her husband’s body back onto the bed. She would lie with him until morning. If by then he didn’t awaken, she would use the craft to gently rouse him.
She knew that the only surefire way to protect Vespasian’s secret would be to have the two guards killed. It was a pity, for she knew them well and they had only been doing their duty. Even so, she couldn’t allow the slightest hint of this episode to surface-especially so close to the start of Vespasian’s massive new campaign.
As she lay beside him, she silently gave thanks to the all-powerful Vagaries flame that Vespasian had not unconsciously used his powers. Had that happened, he might have killed them both and destroyed the entire royal residence. Once she knew that Vespasian was well, as a token of her gratitude and devotion she would order the Priory maidens to slaughter a white bull in the Rotunda. Still worried about her husband, she held him closer.
She would remain that way until dawn.
CHAPTER IX
AS TYRANNY OF THE HOUSE OF WELBORNE STOOD AT THE bow of theTammerland, the sun’s rays started warming her back. Her fleet of four Black Ships was heading west and fighting a fierce headwind. Every hand had been awake all night.
With the Eutracian coast nearing, Tyranny could smell land. As usual, she planned to moor the Conclave fleet in the Cavalon Delta bay, where the ships could reprovision and take shelter against the unpredictable Sea of Whispers. It would be good to be home.
Despite how she loved being at sea, she would find an indulgent bath and one of Shawna’s wonderfully prepared meals very welcome. Although Tyranny preferred living aboard her flagship, Tristan had granted her personal quarters in the palace. When not at sea she often availed herself of the royal luxury. Even so, not one Conclave member would dare to call her a landlubber.
The fleet of Black Ships had been at sea for the past week. Of the six original vessels, two had been sunk while trying to attack Serena’s island stronghold. The late Vagaries Queen had somehow conjured a massive tidal wave that surged west, smashing theFlorian and theMalvina into matchsticks.
TheTammerland, theEphyra, theCavalon, and theIllendium had survived, but each suffered damage. Only theTammerland had remained seaworthy enough to sail home straightaway; the other three needed to stay in Parthalon for repairs. Tyranny and Adrian had sailed theTammerland home ahead of the others. After the Minion shipwrights declared the work on the other three vessels finished, the remaining acolytes had piloted the ships home. While she awaited the arrival of her fleet, Tyranny had prowled the palace like a caged tigress. When they finally arrived, she took immediate action.
Although the Minion shipwrights were immensely skilled, they knew that their workmanship must pass Tyranny’s muster. After giving the vessels a sharp visual inspection, she had insisted on a full week of sea trials. Traax and four Minion phalanxes had accompanied her.
Adrian empowered theTammerland, while the acolytes Astrid, Phoebe, and Marissa piloted the other Black Ships. Tyranny pushed the women hard and ordered the Minions to perform rigorous combat drills in the sky and on deck. During the trials the Minions’ seafaring fighting skills had sharpened and the sisters’ abilities to fly the great vessels improved markedly. With the trials all but over, Tyranny felt confident that she could give herJin’Sai a report that soundly testified to the fleet’s readiness. The report would also recommend that the same four Minion phalanxes be assigned to the fleet on a continual basis, and that Adrian, Phoebe, Marissa, and Claire become the Black Ships’ permanent pilots.
Tyranny looked northward. Their dark shapes glinting in the rising sun, the three sister ships were also flying high over the waves. Sailing through the sky was an exhilarating feeling and one that the Conclave privateer wasn’t entirely accustomed to. She had spent most of her life bounding atop the waves, not flying over them. She smiled. Her life had been nothing if not eventful.
After a hard run of nonstop flight yesterday, she had ordered the four acolytes to empower the ships all through the night as well. That had set a precedent. She hadn’t issued the harsh order because she felt hurried to return home; rather, she needed to know whether the sisters could endure the effort. Like the other Conclave members, Tyranny hoped that the threats to the Vigors east of the Tolenkas had finally been quashed. Even so, Tristan had taken her aside and told her that he wanted the acolytes and the Minions pushed to the limit during these trials. Like Tristan, she suspected that the fleet would be instrumental in somehow crossing the Tolenkas and finding Shashida.
Tyranny reached into her leather jacket and retrieved her new cigarillo case. It was solid gold and inscribed with the lettersTW. She removed a cigarillo and a match, then returned the case to its resting place. She was proud to be a member of the prince’s Conclave, and her adventures had made her the richest woman in all Eutracia. But she had come to realize that her seat on the Conclave meant far more to her than her wealth ever could.
For the first time in her life she felt like a valued part of something greater than herself, and so she had marked the occasion by buying the gold case. The privateer had been careful to avoid letting her newfound wealth turn her head; the case was one of the few purchases she had allowed herself. To this day her vast hoard of kisa-the gold coin of the realm-lay behind locked doors in the depths of the Redoubt.
As she turned her gaze westward she stabbed the cigarillo between her lips. Any time now, the Eutracian coastline would materialize and she would order the acolytes to put the ships down onto the sea. Reaching down, Tyranny prepared to strike the match against one of her knee boots.
“I can help you with that,” a familiar voice called out. Turning, Tyranny saw Sister Adrian approaching. The acolyte was carrying two cups of hot tea.
As she neared, Adrian called on the craft. At once the tip of Tyranny’s cigarillo glowed bright red. After inhaling a deep lungful of smoke, the privateer smiled.
“That’s a neat trick,” she said, raising her face to blow the smoke skyward. “If I had endowed blood, I would ask you to teach it to me. It would save much time, not to mention the wear and tear on my boots!”
Adrian laughed and handed Tyranny a teacup. “But I wouldn’t do it!” Adrian answered. “It would only make poisoning yourself with those things all the easier!”
Tyranny snorted out a short laugh. After taking a welcome sip of tea she tossed the unused match overboard.
During the past week, Tyranny and Adrian had become fast friends. Their relationship had matured far beyond the fact that each woman served on the Conclave. Despite being opposite personalities, they shared a common goal, and during the sea trials each had impressed the other with her unique abilities.
Adrian was as modest and thoughtful as Tyranny was brash and outspoken. Tyranny’s defenses were her wits
