The Reformer

Adrian nodded-to both the entities he was communicating with. 'Yes, my King. The next is a small taste of what a full-scale steam-propelled ship will be. .'

He heard a chuff. . chuff. . chuff . . sound. The twelve oar launch he'd converted came into view. Murmurs arose from the Islander chiefs; they understood the sea and ships. He could see them pointing out the rudder and tiller arrangement he'd rigged, debating its merits, and then there were louder murmurs as they realized that the launch was heading directly into the wind at seven knots, throwing back white water from both sides of its prow as well as the wheels that thrashed the harbor surface to foam on either side. Black smoke puffed in balls from the tall smokestack secured like a mast with staywires to fore and aft.

'Think of a full-sized ship, my lord,' Adrian said. 'Her decks covered over with a timber shell and iron plates, and with an iron-backed ram. No vulnerable oars, impossible to board, free of wind, tide and current. .'

Casull was a fighting man who'd spent most of a long life waging war at sea, or preparing to.

'Tell me more,' he said, breathing hard.

SIX

'Pity you didn't get an opportunity to try out your new toys at sea,' Esmond said.

'This will do,' Adrian said.

The archipelago ruled-ruled more or less; from which they collected protection money, at least-by the Directors of Vase was considerably smaller than the one centered on Chalice. Few of the islands in it had enough area to grow crops, and they were low-lying and therefore dry, covered in open forest and scrub rather than jungle. To balance that there were mines, the fishing in the shallow waters round about was excellent, and they were a very convenient location for raids on the mainland. Vase was the largest, and the only one which looked like giving the Royal forces any sustained resistance.

'I can see why,' Adrian said, bracing a hand against the mast of the transport, where it ran through the maintop. He'd been at sea long enough now to sway naturally with the motion of the ship, exaggerated by the sixty-foot height of the mast. They were both used to the bilge stink and the cramped quarters by now as well, and the unmerciful heat of the reflected sun that had tanned them both several shades darker.

'This is a tough nut,' he said to his brother.

Esmond grunted agreement. 'Harbor shaped like a U,' he murmured, half to himself. 'Steep rocky ground all around-absolute bitch getting men up those, never mind the walls at the top. Let's see. . harbor wall just back from the docks, looks like it started out as a row of stone warehouses. Streets-tenement blocks, mansions, whatever, all bad-then the citadel itself on that low ridge.'

Esmond squinted carefully, then looked down at the map King Casull's spies had provided. 'Now, that's interesting,' he said.

'What is?'

'This shows a ruined tower back of the rear wall of the citadel-unoccupied. Careless of them.'

Adrian peered over his brother's armored shoulder. 'That commands the citadel walls?' he said.

'Looks like. It's a thousand yards from the rear wall of the citadel, say a quarter-mile from the inner face of the works facing the harbor,' he said. 'Hmmm. Well out of bow and slingshot, of course, and you couldn't mount a useful number of torsion machines there.'

He looked up, and for a moment his grin made him look young again, the youth who'd stood to be crowned at the Five Year Games. 'But they don't know about your toys, do they?'

Smart lad, your brother, Raj said. He's got a real eye for the ground. That's extremely important-nobody fights battles on a tabletop, and a rise of six feet can be crucial.

'No, they don't,' Adrian said, smiling back. Oh, shit, he thought to himself.

King Casull looked up at the burning fortress at the outer harbor mouth of Vase. It was a low massive blocky building, set cunningly into the rocky crags and scree, well placed to rain down arrows and burning oil and naphtha on any force trying to scramble up the gravel and boulder-littered slopes to its gates. That had helped it not at all when the shells from Adrian Gellert's mortar landed behind the battlements. A thick column of greasy black smoke rose, heavy with the scent of things that should not burn, a smell he was intimately familiar with comprised of old timber, paint, leather, cloth, wine, cooking oil, human flesh.

'How do you advise we assault the town and citadel, General Gellert?' he asked.

'If it please my lord the King,' Esmond said, 'we'll send in the gunboats now.'

Those were waiting beside the royal galley, keeping station with occasional strokes of their oars. Ten of those to a side, with two men on each; the single cannon fired forward, over the bows; a long inclined wooden slide reached backward to nearly amidships, letting the weapon run in when it was fired or be lashed over the center of gravity when the gunboat was at sea. The crews waved respectfully as they saw the royal eyes fall on them.

'And we'll send the troop transports close behind. The cannon will fire solid shot until they've battered down a gate, or a suitable breach in a wall.'

Casull nodded; it was often better to break down a wall, if you could-the rubble provided a natural ramp for assault troops, and gates usually had nasty dogleg irregularities and unpleasant surprises waiting for a storming party.

'That will give us the town,' Esmond said. 'But the guns are large-getting them up to the inner edge of the Directors' citadel, that will be difficult. Most of it's within bowshot of the walls, and all of it's within range of the boltcasters.'

He nodded towards Vase. Two tall semicircular towers rose from the edges of the citadel facing the town. That was a curve itself; the whole inner complex where the ruler resided was shaped like an irregular wedge of pie, with the palace and keep occupying the outer, narrow tip.

'Well, my lord King,' Esmond said. 'My brother and I have thought up something that may distract the men on the battlements quite considerably.'

* * *

'Here you are, sir,' the transport captain said.

Adrian nodded, modeling his expression on the one Esmond used. Firm, confident, in charge, but not hostile or remote, he told himself.

Men were going ashore in relays; the little semicircle of beach was too small to take the ship, or more than a few score at a time. Three hundred men didn't seem like too many, until he saw them all together like this. A hundred of the Sea Strikers had gone ashore first: Esmond's security detachment-light infantry with sword, buckler and javelin. The two hundred arquebusiers and grenade slingers were following more slowly, burdened with their heavy weapons and ammunition. Adrian heard a thump and a volley of curses from the netting on the side of the ship where men climbed down into the boats. Long, clumsy and heavy, he amended to himself.

Beyond the little cove rose stony hills covered in thorny scrub. . and beyond those, the ruined tower where he was supposed to 'amuse' the enemy and keep them from hindering the main assault. Adrian shook the captain's hand, adjusted his satchel of grenades, and swung over the bulwark himself.

'Feet here, sir,' one of the Emerald slingers said cheerfully.

* * *

'What's that sound?'

'Ninety-nine, one hundred,' Helga Demansk said, completing the series of sit-ups.

'Oh, stop that, Helga and come look,' Keffrine said.

The woman who'd once been the pampered daughter of a Confederation Justiciar unhooked her feet from the back of the chair and padded over to the high barred window. If she stood on tiptoe, she could see some of the rooftops of Vase, down from the citadel. If she sprang up and gripped the bars, she could see a good deal more. She did, jumping nearly her own height and holding herself up easily, shaking tawny hair out of her eyes and peering against the bright light of morning reflecting off sea and roof tile.