Queen of Fire полностью

He continued to work, not looking up as Frentis moved on. Captain Belorath was at the stern, standing as still as the shifting deck would allow, his sextant trained on the horizon. Frentis had no notion of how the device worked or the meaning of the numbers the captain paused to scribble on parchment, but knew it was how he fixed their position on this ocean.

“Seas are calmer today,” he offered. In fact it was the first calm day for over a week; the stories he had heard of the Boraelin’s tempestuous wintry nature had not been exaggerated.

Belorath replied with a customary grunt, raising his sextant once more. “But the clouds aren’t. Promises another storm by tomorrow.” He squinted, keeping the sextant level, his eyes tracking to a brief glimpse of the sun through the cloud. “I believe, brother,” he said, consulting the numbers on his parchment. “We are less than two weeks from Volarian shores. It’s time a decision was made.”

• • •

“Eskethia.” Thirty-Four’s finger tapped the chart where a two-hundred-mile-long stretch of Volarian coastline traced from north to south. “One of the last provinces to fall to Volarian rule. The free people there may be less inclined to fight for the empire. Also, New Kethia is home to the largest slave market in the western provinces. Many of the slaves seized in your homeland will still be there, awaiting the winter auctions.”

“Well garrisoned?” Frentis asked him, although it was Lekran who replied.

“At least a division,” he said. “As our friend says, Eskethians are ever resentful at the loss of their sovereignty, though it happened centuries ago.”

Frentis eyed the chart closely, gauging the distance from Eskethia to Volar. Close enough to threaten the capital, but sufficiently distant to ensure any forces sent against us won’t have time to return when the queen lands. He raised his gaze to Belorath. “Captain?”

“It’s not a shore I’m familiar with, may take a while to find a suitable landing site. Luckily the coming storm should mask our approach from their patrol ships.”

Frentis nodded. “Eskethia then,” he said, hating himself for the dread that clutched at his chest, knowing the decision meant his weeks of dreamless sleep would soon have to be abandoned. Just one night, he told himself. What can she do in just one night?

• • •

There was a time she would have made them watch, delighting in their impotence as they squirmed in their bonds, helpless witnesses to the slaughter of their families. But for reasons she can’t fathom such diversions hold no interest for her now and she has been content to gather them atop the Council Tower, standing at the parapet with the tip of a sword pricking every back, watching smoke and flames rise from the wealthier districts of the city as their estates are laid waste. It is close to midnight and the flames are bright, though they are at too great a height to hear the screams. For all their unnatural vitality these greats of the empire are now revealed as old men, sagging in grief, weeping or choking out desperate pleas for mercy, kept upright only by the promise of instant death should they falter.

“I realise this may be a redundant statement, Honoured Council-men,” she tells them. “But the Ally is less than impressed by your efforts to fulfil his great design.”