Chapter 11
It did not take long for Lieutenant Burrell to adapt to success. No longer constrained by his secret orders from Lord Quesnel, Burrell threw himself into planning the long-term occupation of Gallifrey harbor. He drafted sailors from federation vessels in port to man the forts, freely promising Lord Quesnel’s gold in return for their service. With no sign of the transport ships that were to have supported Ysobel’s mission, Burrell convinced a reluctant captain to divert his ship, bearing a message to the nearest naval base.
While Burrell did not speak of it aloud, both knew that their reinforcements were neither tardy nor the victims of ill fortune. Quesnel had deliberately withheld them before the attack, hoping that she would fail. But having succeeded against the odds, not even Quesnel would throw away victory for his personal vendetta, and she was confident that reinforcements would soon be on their way.
While Burrell secured their military position, Ysobel took control as acting harbormaster. She met first with the mayor, then the leading merchants, assuring them that the federation had no intention of disrupting trade. As a sign of that good faith, she reopened the harbor. The first ship to leave was an Ikarian merchant, with the former harbormaster aboard. He would report what had transpired, but the federation was gambling that the Ikarian Empire would be too consumed by its internal conflicts to worry about retaking a small foreign port. Gallifrey was a vital trade link for goods coming down from the Northern Wastes, but it had little military significance.
After two days, trading vessels began arriving, their captains far more concerned about rumors of plague than they were about the change in control of the harbor. The Dolphin remained on guard outside the harbor entrance, sending work parties to board and inspect each vessel before it was allowed to enter the harbor. A few captains objected to such treatment, but Elpheme’s crew made it clear that they were searching for weapons and soldiers only. They had no interest in whatever cargo the vessel carried.
Though naturally they reported all cargo to Ysobel, legitimate goods and contraband alike. Knowing which captains and houses were honest, and which were not above a bit of smuggling, was invaluable intelligence for a master trader.
Ysobel’s second decree abolished the schemes that had given preferential dock space and reduced cargo fees to Ikarian vessels. Antonius had fled his office in such haste that he had left behind ledgers recording the bribes that each captain had paid. It was a complicated scheme based on the nationality of the captain, the type of cargo carried, and the frequency of one’s visits to Gallifrey. Half of the bribes were remitted to Ikaria as special docking fees, while the rest went directly into Antonius’s purse.
Instead Ysobel began assigning dock space as was done in the federation—according to a published schedule of fees based on the length of the ship and time spent in port. The docking fees were higher than they had been, but the elimination of bribes meant that even an Ikarian captain would pay less than he had before.
With more coin flowing into the official coffers, this meant more tax dollars for Gallifrey’s mayor, who was quick to signal his approval of her plans. He even offered Ysobel the service of one of his own clerks to help run the harbormaster’s office. The clerk’s skill at keeping records quickly brought order out of chaos, and Ysobel’s scrupulous honesty in dealing with the traders meant that he would have nothing but favorable words to report to his master.
She would make sure her replacement understood the importance of keeping the mayor content. Gallifrey was the largest port in Thuridon, but it was not the only one. Goodwill built here would extend along the coastline. And the federation could have need of that goodwill someday—if it kept on the path to war with the empire.
Ysobel had never realized the full scope of a harbormaster’s responsibilities. Previously she had been on the other side of the counter—now she was the one negotiating with merchants over duties and trying to smooth tempers among captains, all of whom insisted that their needs took precedence. A captain herself, she sympathized with their plight, even as she pointed out that no amount of shouting or threats could create an empty berth out of thin air.
It was a valuable opportunity. Each lading list that she reviewed, every argument with a captain, each request for supplies, provided her with insights into the local trade and the conditions of her competitors. Consider the house of Laurent, which was generally believed to be prosperous: The ship they sent to Gallifrey was undermanned and carried a cargo of fleece and leathers, which would bring only a meager profit. On the other hand, the local trading vessels from Vidrun were ancient single-masted relics, but their derelict appearance disguised their valuable cargoes of perfumes and exotic spices.
As the days passed, incoming ships brought news of other skirmishes between the Ikarian and Seddonian navies, though reports of how the conflict was progressing depended on the nationality of the captain telling the tale. So far all agreed that no pitched battles had been fought between the fleets, but there had been a handful of encounters between vessels. One reported that the federation had claimed the island harbor of Eykstra, another that the incursion had been beaten back.
She could glean no clear picture of the federation strategy. At times, it seemed as if the strategy was merely to nibble away at the edges of Ikaria’s foreign possessions, reckoning that no single piece would be seen as worth reclaiming. At other times, she thought grimly that there was no overall strategy, merely individual commanders making a grab for whatever they could in the confusion.
Her darkest imaginings gained strength when a battered ship sailed into harbor, bearing a federation prize crew on a vessel that she had last seen flying an Ikarian pennant. The acting captain claimed to have seized the vessel from pirates, and such was legal under federation law. But she was troubled that there were no survivors aboard who could prove the truth of the tale.
With nothing to back up her suspicions, she could take no official action against the captain. Indeed, it seemed hypocritical to suspect him—after all, her aunt Tilda had started as a pirate hunter herself and, without that legacy, Ysobel would never have achieved her own success. Yet Tilda had always been careful to turn over the surviving pirates to the authorities on dry land, even when keeping them alive meant short rations for all else on board.
She worried about her own ships, and whether they had been swept up in the madness. Since her flight from Ikaria, her ships no longer ventured into Ikarian waters, but that did not mean they were safe. She wrote to her factor, sending new orders to her captains, instructing them to only accept cargoes bound for the east.
Elpheme was busy aboard the Dolphin, and Ysobel saw little of her. By contrast, Burrell was a near-constant presence, as he divided his time between the two forts. Having been assured of his worth, she found herself turning to Burrell as a sounding board. She would not call him a friend, but there was no one else that she could speak to frankly.
Working closely together gave her a new appreciation for Burrell—he had demonstrated both courage and wit, two qualities she greatly admired. She could feel the attraction simmering between them—saw proof of it in his gaze when he thought himself unobserved.
But this was neither the time nor the place to indulge herself. While the people of Thuridon were not quite as rigid in their views on women as the Ikarians, it was still unusual for them to place a woman in a position of power. News that she was involved in a liaison with one of her subordinates would be seen as a sign that she was untrustworthy, and she needed the support of Mayor Calvino and his people if she was to keep control of this harbor.
Weeks passed, and finally, just when she had convinced herself that she would have to hold the port through the winter, two navy ships arrived. Using the message semaphore atop the customs house, she sent orders that they be allowed to anchor in harbor and an invitation for their captains to meet her in her office at their earliest convenience.
After a moment’s consideration, she sent a runner to fetch Lieutenant Burrell. It was a courtesy, though his own watch would surely have informed him of the ships’ arrival.
She wondered what orders the ships brought. Would she be allowed to return home? Or did Lord Quesnel have a different fate in mind for her?
Nerves taut, she forced herself to continue reviewing the day’s accounts until the two ships had dropped anchor in the harbor. Only then did she send her clerk to fetch hot apple wine and fresh nut rolls from the bakery stall that catered to the docks. Plain fare, but bound to be appreciated by those who had been on sea rations. Burrell arrived as she was giving the orders to her clerk, having taken the time to change into his dress uniform and don the brass shoulder cord that proclaimed him the ranking officer at this post.
“At last,” he said. “The sailors we impressed will no doubt rejoice tonight.”
Though Burrell did not have the look of a man who was pleased. His expression was guarded, as it had been during the earliest days of their acquaintance.
She offered him apple wine, which he declined, choosing instead to pace restlessly, peering around her office as if he had never seen it before. He circled the large meeting table twice, then came over to her desk. Picking up a scroll from the basket on the far left side of her desk, he juggled it idly in his hands before replacing it with another.
“My clerk will have both our hides if we disturb his filing system,” she said, carefully lifting the scroll and returning it to its place.
He flushed. “My apologies,” he said, before clasping his arms behind his back and retreating a few paces.
Strangely enough, seeing his nerves calmed her own. She was able to wait with seeming diffidence until the sharp knock on her door announced the arrival of her guests.
The first to enter wore the dress uniform of the navy, showing he had taken time to change before presenting himself, his graying hair tied back neatly in a plait. “Lady Ysobel,” he said, inclining his head in respect. “I am Captain Justin, born into the house of Bendat, and this is Major Armand.”
Major Armand was the younger of the two, with a ruddy complexion and light brown hair that curled close to his scalp. He, too, wore a dress uniform, fit for a court presentation and not the deck of a ship.
Their immaculate attire did not impress her—it gave them the air of courtiers, not sailors.
“Captain; Major,” she said, nodding to each in turn. “And this is Lieutenant Burrell.”
Burrell saluted. The major stared at him for a long moment, his gaze dismissive, before finally returning his salute.
“I was surprised to receive your message,” Major Armand said. He was speaking to Ysobel, but his gaze flickered back over to Burrell, and this time she could see the animosity. It appeared that the two knew each other and had not parted on friendly terms.
“Surprised, but pleased by your success,” Captain Justin hastened to clarify.
“Please, have a seat, gentlemen,” Ysobel said. “We have much to discuss.”
Her guests accepted goblets of the warmed apple wine, in deference to the damp chill of autumn, but declined the nut rolls, giving a look that said they had far more important considerations than their stomachs. Seized by an imp of contrariness she took a roll for herself and made sure to offer them to Burrell before taking a seat at the table.
The visitors had chosen to sit side by side, with Burrell to their left. She sat to their right, so she could watch them with ease, while they would be forced to divide their attention between herself and Burrell.
“Tell me, how did you take Gallifrey with so few men?” Captain Justin asked. “I would have sworn it couldn’t be done.”
“A trader knows how to improvise,” she said. It took only a few moments to recount the taking of the harbor—a reckless, heart-stopping gamble recounted as if it were a children’s tale. Burrell then took up the thread of the narrative, discussing the improvements to the defenses that he had made since he had taken over.
Major Armand grunted in apparent approval though he did not speak his praise aloud. His attitude irritated her, for what harm could there be in acknowledging Burrell’s efforts? A few words of honest praise would cost him nothing, yet his refusal to utter them spoke volumes about his character.
She had expected her own efforts to be dismissed. She was a master trader with no military experience—failure would have been her responsibility, but any success would be credited to luck or the skill of her advisors. She had come to this meeting ready to fight for her role to be acknowledged. She hadn’t expected to have to defend Burrell. The lieutenant had shown himself courageous and deserving of respect.
But despite his posturing, Armand was not in charge—as a mere marine, he would take his orders from the navy. Captain Justin was in charge of this mission, and it was his words that would be heeded.
Justin, who’d introduced himself as born into the house of Bendat, but not of that house. Some saw the navy as honorable service, but for one born into a trading house, such service was seen as the lesser path. The favored sons and daughters of the house would have followed the merchant’s path. Ysobel outranked him twice—as a master trader who had earned the title of Lady, and as the head of her own house. She might be constrained to follow Lord Quesnel’s orders, but these men were her inferiors. A fact that they seemed to have forgotten.
“Justin, how many marines have you brought, and how quickly can you take control of the harbor?” she asked, deliberately omitting his title.
He blinked in surprise. “Major Armand has a full contingent of one hundred marines—”
“Good,” she interrupted. “Lieutenant Burrell, after their shift, send the impressed sailors to me and I will see that they are paid for their service. If any choose to remain, have them see Major Armand. Otherwise, I will find them temporary work at the docks until they can find a berth on a ship.”
“As you command,” Burrell said.
“You overstep yourself. My marines will need time—” Armand began.
“Time? To learn garrison duty? Lieutenant Burrell was able to seize these forts and hold them for over two months with half as many marines, but if your troops are incapable, I suppose I could ask the sailors to remain…at double their pay.”
Burrell’s face was studiously blank, while the major’s naturally ruddy complexion darkened. “I will take command of the fortifications as soon as my marines can be set ashore.”
“Good.” She had won that point. It was time to find out if Quesnel had sent instructions for her, as well. If not, she would seize this opportunity to implement her own plans—they could not hold her here on their own authority. “Justin, you will need to appoint a harbormaster to take my place.”
“My quartermaster can take charge until a replacement arrives. And we will need to review any agreements you have entered into on the federation’s behalf,” Justin said.
Here was the trap they hoped to catch her in. If they could prove corruption, or that she had exceeded her authority by entering into new treaties, then Quesnel would have the justification he needed to destroy her.
But they had misjudged their prey. She was far too cunning to be caught in such obvious misdeeds. “Never steal anything worth less than the sum of your house,” Tilda had once advised her, and as of yet she had never come across anything that tempted her to break that rule.
“Of course. I made no new agreements, but merely reaffirmed the old treaties under which the port was governed. If you feel you can negotiate better terms, I am certain the mayor is willing to hear you.”
Captain Justin’s smile faltered in the face of her self-confidence.
“Unless you have new orders for me, I believe this concludes our business. I will, of course, make myself available to meet with your quartermaster and to answer any questions you might have about the running of the port.”
“There is one more thing,” Captain Justin added, withdrawing a scroll from a pocket in his tunic. “Upon satisfactory completion of your duties here, you are instructed to join the fleet to assist in the campaign against Kazagan.”
“Kazagan?” she asked. It had been too much to hope that Quesnel had forgotten about her, but this was beyond anything she had expected. “Have they gone mad? Kazagan was the pride of Nerissa’s house—the new emperor cannot let it go, not without alienating his supporters. The Ikarian navy will attack us at sea, and their armies will crush us should we attempt to land.”
Justin bristled. “It is not your place to question the minister’s orders.”
“The Ikarians have other concerns—the legions from the north march to the capital in support of their own claimant to the throne, while their navy is still confined to harbor by order of the emperor. By the time they learn of our attack, we will already be victorious,” Major Armand said.
It was a risky gamble. Even if the rumors were true, and Ikaria was consumed in a civil war, circumstances could change. An external threat could unite the rival factions behind the emperor, and in that case, federation victory was far less certain.
She had no doubt that their ships would prevail in their initial attack, thanks to the superior skills of their sailors. But should the federation try to invade Kazagan…
It was madness. She shook her head in disbelief even as she accepted the scroll from Captain Justin. Her orders were simple—return at once to the naval base on Melene and place herself and her ship at the disposal of the commodore there. There was no mention of when the orders had been written or the target for their attack.
Perhaps the talk of Kazagan was a diversion. Or perhaps the plans were not firm—there was still time for the council to come to their senses.
Or perhaps the war had already started.
“And what of Lieutenant Burrell?” she asked.
“I can find something to keep him occupied,” Major Armand said.
So Burrell’s success had not redeemed him. And the look on the major’s face did not bode well for the lieutenant’s future.
“You may enjoy garrison duty, but the lieutenant is far too valuable to be allowed to rot away here,” Ysobel said. She knew her hasty words were making an enemy, but she did not care. If these men were so blind that they could not see the looming disaster, then their respect was not worth having. “My instructions from Lord Quesnel allow me to retain my own crew, so if the lieutenant will agree to continue under my command?”
“The lieutenant is an officer of the marines—” Major Armand began.
“And I am Lady Ysobel, acting under the direct authority of Lord Quesnel, the minister of war,” she countered. “I answer to the minister, not to you.”
“Your point is noted,” Captain Justin said. He turned to face Burrell. “I am certain the lieutenant would prefer to remain in the service of the marines, and to assist Major Armand as he takes command of the harbor. Is that not so?”
Burrell took a deep breath, his gaze wandering over the two officers then fixing itself on Ysobel’s face. “I have no doubt Major Armand will serve ably in his new role,” he said. “As for myself, I would be honored to serve under Lady Ysobel’s command as she goes into battle.”
“So be it,” Justin said.
He stood, and Major Armand hastily rose to his feet as well.
“I will see that the necessary arrangements are made for the transfer of command,” Captain Justin said. “You may instruct your ship to prepare to sail the day after tomorrow.”
“Excellent,” she said.
With insincere bows, the visitors left. Ysobel waited until the door had shut behind them, then said, “I did you no favors.”
“You did me no harm. The major and I have long disliked each other. Any service with him would have been unpleasant.”
She wondered if he would ever trust her enough to tell her the reason for such animosity, and whether his tale would explain why a man of his age was still a mere lieutenant.
“Any service with me is likely to be brief,” she said.
Burrell shrugged. “If it is to be war, then eventually all of us will be called upon to fight. I’d rather do so with someone I trusted.”
“And I as well. Come now, there is much to be done. Most of your marines will have to stay behind, but you can pick a dozen of them to come with us. I’d suggest volunteers, but I’ll leave that up to you.”
Justin would not challenge her over a dozen marines, not when she could insist on the full complement that she had brought with her on the Dolphin. Indeed, she was tempted to ask for them all, but doing so might leave Gallifrey shorthanded should an attack come. And since the major seemed remarkably lacking in cunning, he would need to rely upon superior forces instead.
She would have to rely upon her wits, and on those she trusted. She could only hope they would be enough.