Silence fell around the table. The Crown Prince cleared his throat. “A strong party loyal to the Kings of the Isles has risen in Preble,” he said. “They have extended an invitation to me, to come and free them from the tyrants of the mainland, and then to rule them as men are meant to be ruled.”
“And not to pay the Confed tribute anymore,” Casull added. “It’s heavy; they don’t really understand sea trade . . . farmers, really.”
Adrian nodded in unison with Esmond. No doubt a little gold from Chalice was spread around to get that Royalist party going, Raj said. But yes, on the whole, it looks like a good opportunity to test the Confeds.
probability of initial success is 77%, ±10, Center interjected. high degree of uncertainty indicates several factors, principally—
We’ll discuss that later, Adrian thought firmly. Aloud: “My lord King, perhaps we can take Preble,” he said. “Can we hold it?”
Tenny’s lower lip stuck out slightly. Adrian cursed himself silently; he should have framed that a little more tactfully. Casull nodded.
“That is the question,” he said. “Normally, no. The island is too close to the mainland, to the Confed armies, and to their fleet. The fleet’s laid up in ordinary”—meaning stripped and hauled up in boat-sheds—”but they can put it to sea fairly quickly.”
“As sailors, they’d make good cowherds,” Tenny observed. His father frowned.
“True, but don’t underestimate their numbers, or their discipline, or the way their infantry fights once they get on your deck—previous Kings of the Isles have done that, to their cost.” Casull III, for instance, had paid with his life for doing exactly that. “With ‘zieur Adrian’s new weapons, we may have a chance of holding it.”
Adrian traced the narrow strait with a finger. “What’s the depth, here, my lord King?”
“Ah, you see the problem. Shallow—full of shifting sandbars. Impossible to interdict with warships, but fine for shallow-draft barges carrying assault troops.”
“They might try a causeway, then,” Adrian said thoughtfully. “If they could round up enough peasants to dig.”
Casull winced slightly. “That would be even worse. Damn them, they’re always trying to turn sea into land.”
“By the Lord of the Trident, they’ll regret it this time,” Esmond said confidently. “Most of Adrian’s new weapons have the range to turn the straits into hell for them.”
“So we’ll put them into the hands of the Shades.” Tenny chuckled, licking his lips. “And I will be King in Preble.”
“Under me,” Casull added dryly, and the Prince looked down. Patricide was an ancient tradition in the Isles. “By sending you, my son, I assure the men of Preble that they are to be free subjects, not a possession to be squeezed.”
“What about the city militia?” Esmond said. “There ought to be . . . what, eight, ten thousand of them? In a city that size.”
Casull nodded. “They will not be involved initially,” he said. “Not if our plan goes as expected. Then they will have no choice but to fall in with us, and fight for us.”
“Certainly, if the Confed thinks they were disloyal,” Esmond said. “I take it, my lord, that the Strikers are to be the spearhead of this enterprise?” He bowed to Tenny. “Under your valiant son’s direction.”
“Of course,” Casull beamed. “And your brother will be with you, to see to the emplacement of the new weapons to defend our new city. We will follow with the fleet.”
The two Emeralds smiled and bowed to the King of the Isles. Adrian needed no voices from beyond the world to know exactly what the King was thinking: if the throw of the dice failed, he was out only one replaceable son and some Emerald mercenaries; if it succeeded, he had one of the richest cities in the Western Sea.
That’s how a King has to think, lad, Raj said. Adrian had an image of gray eyes, weary and amused. I never had to be that, for which I thank the Spirit of Man of the Stars.
“When do we strike?” Esmond asked.
“As soon as may be. With the fleet gathered, Confed spies will swarm here like flies to velipad shit, and this is a logical step. I will feed them a dozen contradictory stories—that way even if they learn the truth, it may drown in a storm of plausible lies—but better still to strike before they decide to reinforce all their coastal garrisons.”