Nights of Villjamur - Mark Charan Newton [46]
“Good. I’ve requested for a garuda to track us in the skies—to scout around also, so that we don’t get surprised again. So you know in advance, while we’re away, the Council will make an announcement revealing that Emperor Johynn has died, and that his elder daughter, the Lady Rika, will become ruler of the Jamur territories. Villjamur will be officially in a state of mourning until our return.”
“With the new Empress, I take it?” Nelum tapped the side of the carriage with his palm.
Brynd nodded, “Yes, we’re collecting her from Southfjords. She knows we’re coming to meet her, but not that her father’s dead.”
“Whose job is it to deliver the news?” Sen said.
“That honor appears to be mine,” Brynd said grimly.
“I’ve heard she never liked him that much anyway,” Nelum muttered.
“Meanwhile …” Brynd faced each of them in turn, “no flirting, no smiling—in fact, no talking to her, unless I say so. Just remember, she’s your new ruler. You serve her loyally. We’re her guard.”
They nodded in confirmation.
“Just us five going?” Nelum inquired.
“No point drawing too much attention to our departure. It’d alert too many people that something was up. We won’t get any trouble going to Southfjords, so no need to waste extra men. There aren’t enough of us Night Guardsmen left, anyway. I’ll have to recruit more after we return.”
Silence passed as they reflected on dead comrades.
“Right,” Brynd continued, “we’ve a longship waiting for us at Gish, and that’s where we ride first. It’ll take the best part of two days, so let’s get going.”
They all mounted their horses.
“You’re very quiet today,” Brynd remarked to Apium. The redhead was clutching at his stomach.
“Aye. Seems that I can no longer handle a bit of lager like I used to.”
In the center of the Atrium, Chancellor Urtica stood before the assembled Council. He flicked back his gray cloak dramatically, looking around with a falsely solemn expression. If he wanted to initiate a combat situation, he would have to be at his most persuasive, most charming. The reactions of the other members were uniformly glum.
“Fellow councilors,” he began. “I’ve only this morning had a private meeting with Commander Brynd Lathraea of the Night Guard. He has informed me that he strongly suspects the Varltung islanders as being responsible for the surprise slaughter of his men.”
Urtica produced the arrow that Brynd had given him earlier, passing it to the nearest councilor to hand around the chamber for inspection.
“Somehow these wretched people have found out about our secret mission to secure more firegrain, and are now planning to make sure we crumble before the Freeze properly settles in.”
There was a murmur throughout the chamber, and someone spoke up, “Are you quite certain this is from Varltung?”
“Indeed, the armory will take a look to make sure, but we’re confident it’s from Varltung. They clearly knew of our plans and consequently destroyed some of our best regiment.”
“But they’re merely barbarians,” Councilor Mewún protested. “How could they do this?”
Urtica’s voice became bolder, a well-rehearsed ploy on his part. He felt it important to inject some drama into these meetings. “I strongly recommend that we act on this outrage promptly. We should send a naval assault to seize the entire island and disable it, and take their resources. Who knows what they will be capable of later, whilst our city gates are closed?”
“Should the new Empress not decide this?” Urtica couldn’t see who spoke.
Silence, for several heartbeats. “She’ll have many other concerns once she arrives, and I don’t think she is capable of conducting a military operation yet.”
“I’m not certain we should consider going to war on such little evidence. How can you launch an attack without more definite proof?” It was Councilor Yiak, a chubby woman