“I’ll give you Black Moclips,” Sen Dunsidan announced suddenly. “She is the best of our warships, a Roverbuilt ship of the line, a proven vessel. Her history is remarkable. She has fought in over two hundred engagements and never been defeated or even disabled. Just now, she has a new Captain and crew, and they are eager to prove themselves. Veterans all, don’t misunderstand me, but new to this ship. They were brought aboard when her Rover crew deserted.”
She studied him. “They are seasoned and reliable? They are tested in battle?”
“Two full years on the Prekkendorran, all of them. They are a strong and dependable unit, well led and thoroughly trained.”
And a full complement of Federation soldiers, she was about to say when the Morgawr’s roughedged voice stopped her. No soldiers, he hissed, so that only she could hear. It was an unmistakable reminder of his earlier warning, when she had insisted she must have soldiers to combat the Elven forces. A ship, a Captain, and a crew—nothing more. Do not question me. She froze under the lash of his voice, projected from the shadows behind Sen Dunsidan, where he waited in hiding.
“Lady?” the Minister of Defense asked solicitously, sensing the hesitation in her.
“Supplies for a long voyage,” she said, forging ahead as if nothing had intruded on her thinking, looking directly toward the Morgawr, unwilling to concede him anything. She resented his insistence on trying to control matters when he himself had no intention of being involved in the expedition. He saw himself as her mentor, and he was, but she was his equal now and no longer in his thrall. She had always possessed magic, even before he came to her and helped her to rebuild her shattered life. She had never been helpless or unaware, and he seemed too quick to forget how strong she was.
“The ship will be delivered to you fully outfitted and ready to sail.” Sen Dunsidan reclaimed her attention. “I’ll have her ready in a week.”
“Four days,” the Ilse Witch said softly, holding his gaze firmly with her own. “I’ll come for her myself. Have her Captain and crew under orders to obey me in everything. Everything, Minister. There are to be no questions, no arguments, and no hesitations. All decisions are to be mine.”
The Federation Minister nodded without enthusiasm. “The Captain and crew will be advised, Dark Lady.”
“Go back to bed,” she ordered, and turned away, dismissing him.
Standing with her gaze directed out the windows and into the night, she waited until he was gone, then wheeled back to face the Morgawr, who had emerged from hiding, tall and dark and spectral. He had come with her to the city, but kept hidden while she did the talking. He told her that it was best if Sen Dunsidan believed she was the one he must listen to, the one in control. As in fact I am, she had wanted to reply, but instead held her tongue.
“You did well,” he said, sliding into the faint light.
“I don’t appreciate your interference with my efforts!” she snapped, unappeased. “Or your reminders of what you think I should or shouldn’t do! I am the one who risks life and limb to gain possession of the magic!”
“I only seek to supply help where help is needed,” he replied calmly.
“Then do so!” she snapped. Her patience was exhausted. “We need soldiers! We need hardened warriors! Where are they to come from, if not from the Federation?”
He dismissed her anger and displeasure with a wave of his gloved hand. “From me,” he replied casually. “I have already arranged for it. Three dozen Mwellrets, commanded by Cree Bega. They will be your warriors, your fighters. You will have nothing to fear with them beside you.”
Mwellrets. She cringed at the idea. He knew she hated rets. As fighters, they were savage and relentless, but they were deceivers, as well. She did not trust them. She could not see inside their minds. They resisted her magic and employed subterfuges and artifices of their own. It was why the Morgawr liked them, why he was using them. They would be effective fighters in her behalf, but they would act as her keepers, as well. Giving her Mwellrets was a means of keeping her in line.