years,” Vaelin said. “A good stretch of time to lay the ground for their attack. Gather intelligence on the strength of the defences, seed the city with assassins under her thrall. The Darkblade is careful, it seems, and patient.”
“The Darkblade,” Deputy Governor Neshim repeated, silk swatting at his brow with renewed energy. “So he’s coming? The war is actually upon us?”
“As I explained,” Sho Tsai said. “I also explained that the title of governor, and its responsibilities, now falls to you.”
“To me?” Neshim began to chew on the corner of his handkerchief, which had somehow found its way into his mouth. “Really?”
“Yes, Governor.” The captain gritted his teeth and forced a smile. He fell to an expectant silence, one Neshim seemed to harbour no desire to fill, continuing to chew on his handkerchief in consternation.
“Perhaps,” Vaelin said, “the governor would be better placed to formulate his orders if he were given a fuller picture of the current situation.” He knew such an intervention was probably a severe breach of etiquette but every hour spent in this city meant Sherin would be slipping further beyond his reach. That morning Ahm Lin had advised his song had taken on a subtle but discernible note of warning.
“She continues to journey north, brother,” the mason said. “But the danger she faces grows by the day.”
A flicker of annoyance passed across Sho Tsai’s brow before he sighed and turned to the other man in the room, a blunt-featured figure wearing the unadorned iron-grey armour of the local soldiery. “Subcommander Deshai,” Sho Tsai said, providing the required bow of an officer greeting a superior. “As I understand it, command of the city’s defences now rests with you. Perhaps you have a report for the governor?”
Deshai gave a stiff nod, Vaelin discerning a degree of understanding in him that greatly surpassed his newly ascended superior. A subcommander outranked a captain, but this captain had the favour of the Merchant King.
“We lost over a hundred men last night,” Deshai told the governor. “More than half were officers and senior sergeants. The rest were mostly skilled archers and engineers. Damage was also done to the main lock where the canal meets the Black Vein, meaning we’ll have trouble moving cargo at a decent rate until it’s repaired.”
“Which will take longer than usual because we lost so many engineers,” Sho Tsai mused, rubbing the faint stubble on his chin. This was the first morning since their journey began that Vaelin had seen him unshaven. “Officers, sergeants, engineers, the garrison commander and the most able administrators in the city. Clearly, this was a blow long in the planning.”
“And delivered early,” Vaelin reminded him. “Meaning there may well be sufficient time for these capable gentlemen to put it right whilst we continue our most vital mission.”
Sho Tsai frowned at his pointed tone but it was plain the need to delay here chafed on him also. “What messages have been sent?” he asked Neshim, who blanched at the question.
“Messages?” he said, the handkerchief finally slipping from between his teeth.
“Yes, Governor, messages,” Sho Tsai repeated. “Messages warning the other strongholds in the region. Messages to the bordering Prefectures. Messages to the Merchant King.”
Neshim spent some time gaping at the captain before summoning a modicum of inner resolve. “I, ah—” He coughed. “I shall see to it immediately. Though I may need some small assistance with the formal phrasing. Hushan always took care of that sort of thing . . .” Neshim’s voice faded, as if the mere mention of the traitor’s name might herald some form of censure. Sho Tsai paid it no mind, however.
“I shall be glad to help,” he said. “But our honoured guest”—he inclined his head at Vaelin—“is correct in reminding me of the urgency of our mission. I shall take my company north before the day is out and return as soon as possible. When I do, I hope to write to the Merchant King informing him of your fulsome preparations to meet the coming assault. Subcommander Deshai, I suggest you ignore the former governor’s stricture against forming a militia and start recruitment and training without further delay.”
The subcommander’s blunt features betrayed a wariness that evidently overcame any resentment at the clear instruction in Sho Tsai’s tone. “A suggestion happily accepted, Captain,” he said.
“Excellent.” Sho Tsai moved to Vaelin, speaking in Realm Tongue. “I won’t tarry with these fools any longer than I have to. Get your people ready to ride and tell the Dai Lo to muster the Red