9. Voices
The jarring clash of hammer on metal clanged out monotonously, the sound like a kitten's claws digging into Angelica's leg ... unwelcome yet also unavoidable.
Alexandras loomed up out of the ruddy murk of the night, the orange red of the horizon glinting off the bottle he carried. "Wine or water M'Lady?" he whispered quietly.
Angelica looked to Liva, who was staring carefully out towards the river none of them could see. "Wine, thank you. Liva?"
Liva turned without comment, and with practiced ease pulled three goblets out of the satchel she wore slung low on her hip, opposite to her sword scabbard. She offered Angelica's goblet to be filled first, then once Alexandras had filled it gave it to Angelica. Both she and Alexandras kept their balance easily as the ship swayed on the long swell, neither spilled a drop filling the other two goblets.
One eyebrow arched in question, Angelica held her goblet waiting as Alexandras withdrew to continue offering water to the soldiers and sailors on deck, his chain clinking gently as he walked.
Liva nodded her head gently in the direction of the bow, and presently Tori-Anna joined them accepting the third cup which she raised. All three tapped together between them in wordless tribute.
Angelica sipped slowly, the rich flavour banishing the lingering aftertaste of ash that pervaded everything.
"Can we trust her?" Tori-Anna began candidly.
"Why not?" Liva took the counterpoint "with what has happened, it is hardly possible she could do anything worse."
"That depends" Tori-Anna replied quietly.
"On?" Angelica offered, quite intrigued.
"Whether they did this" Tori-Anna replied.
"What, you mean all of this?" Angelica rocked backed, shocked at the implications.
"Yes" Tori-Anna replied. "To win the war."
Liva allowed the thought to linger, then after a sip of her wine replied cautiously "But that makes no sense. To unleash such devastation would risk their annihilation also. Besides, to do this would take arts that are little more than fanciful stories". She gestured to the horizon "that was not done by any Children of Mann. Or any of the others. And even if they could, which is impossible, why would they take such a risk?"
"And yet ..," Tori-Anna also gestured to the horizon "there it is. The impossible is upon us" she said slowly, her voice tinged with lament. "If they found a way, then it would make sense."
"How?" Angelica whispered softly, still struggling to believe they were even considering this as possible.
"To destroy your Family's legacy, M'Lady." Tori-Anna replied. "They could never defeat us in the field, and to be honest over time they have tried everything else. Assassins, intrigue, economics ... it is not called the Endless War without reason. Ever since your Family came to power, they have said our way of life is unnatural and contrary to the ways of Mann, and that the world was created for them to rule."
"Yes yes" replied Angelica tersely "I know all that. And we say the world was created by Angelica, whose name I bear, to be shared by the children of all the Qin. Everyone knows all that." she paused "Everyone except them."
"Indeed" offered Liva "but that also makes sense why they would unleash this atrocity" she looked down at her wine, as if it had soured. "It makes too much sense."
"I'm lost again?" Angelica admitted.
"How do you kill an idea?" Tori-Anna supplied.
"Obliterate all trace of everyone and everything who believed in it." Liva added calmly "but" she said firmly "I still say they could not have done this, none of us could. Not even us, Qin forbid."
"However," Tori-Anna emphasized the word "if they did, then they have not finished yet. Indeed, if the intent was to defeat your Family, they have very certainly not won the war, because here we are. Here you are."
"So she could try to kill me" Angelica said softly.
They sipped their wine, listening to the slap of waves against the hull, and creak of the rigging, and the clang of the "bell".
"Look on the bright side?" Liva offered " Ithikari's probably not going to try to seduce you into marriage?"
Angelica choked momentarily on her wine, then broke into uncontrollable laughter. The three of them were reduced to a laughing heap on the deck, various faces around peeking to try to uncover what the great jest was.
Alexandras quietly took the bottle out of his satchel and gave it a sniff, trying to work out quite why it had reduced three perfectly sensibly young women into giggling children. Satisfied it seemed perfectly ordinary, he replaced the stopper and went back to his water rounds.
-------//---------
Sleep eluded Angelica, the joy at finding survivors warring with the possibility that none of this was an accident. Or that she might have to put the young Countess to death if it was true. It was not raining, and leaning against the windward rail with Tori-Anna on one side and Liva on the other, with their cloaks the frigid air held little but a reminder of the season.
Why had the war begun?
Angelica could not remember. A boring lesson long forgotten had washed over her, different theories of who started what when, but the names eluded her. She even forgot the names of her kin who had, if the legends were true, forged the alliance that had eventually become her home.
The old tutor had worn his tabbard when he gave her that lesson, she remembered him more than what he had said. He had served in Father's army in the Vale, in the cavalry. That bloody slaughter had forced their old enemy to terms: their invasion force caught between an army of heavy foot and archers closing the pass ahead, then every lance Father had at his call catching their flank while they were still on the march. She knew that the timing of their march and disposition of their forces were betrayed by scouting the likes of which their enemy could never match, and that was part of why they never won. They had tried valiantly to attack, only to be repulsed, then they attempted to withdraw, only to be slaughtered with fire and steel. But even defeated with a peace treaty, they never truly gave up, either.
She had talked with the old cavalryman about horses, a topic he seemed far more enthusiastic about than the lesson to be honest. He recalled to her the beautiful chestnut stallion he was presented from the captured baggage train, which belonged to a Duke who made the mistake of riding a cheap nag into the battle fearing to lose his prize horse. He recounted, slowly and calmly, that he had ridden down that Duke and put a lance though his back. Not because he was a better rider, he carefully banished any suggestion of glory or pride, but because the land quickly turned to mud. The Duke's nag got bogged when a better horse would have easily pulled through to safety. The old man had looked at her with genuine concern, and impressed upon her never, ever, if the duty fell to her to ride to battle, to make such a poor choice.
They had mutually decided to abandon her failed attention to political history and instead he had her saddle Caverham. He chided her for every mistake she made, insisting she start again and again until she got it perfect. Perfect meant, of course, done the way the King's Cavalry did it rather than as he put it "for how some farmer plods to market".
It was late Spring, the rich floral scent of honeydew creepers on the hedgerows gifting fragrance to the sun as they rode, her guard following discretely behind. The old Cavalryman beside her did not seem to ever actually give his horse any instructions, so familiar they simply understood each other, a perfect team. She had asked him to teach her to jump, but he had politely declined on account of needing her Father's permission before taking such risks. Father had agreed that she could begin learning in the Spring ... but then ...
Angelica felt the stab of loss and tears leaking from her eyes, and crushed them closed to wish the tears away. She did not want to disturb the others, nor would anything anyone said change what had happened. Holding herself perfectly still, feeling the slow rise and fall of the ship on the swell, the warmth under the cloaks, and the scent of salt. Her whole life, she had been taught self control was everything. Mother had been unwavering on that point. She drew her senses into the present, relaxing her eyes, and listening, the loss and rage in her ebbing slowly.
The murmur of a child trying to comfort a younger child unable to sleep, the jumble of sounds from the animals in their cages in the hold, the creak of the rigging, the strangest phrases of the sailors tending their ships, that jarring and invasive ding of the hammer on metal every now and then. A distant pitiful cry "help". Whimpering of a child's bad dreams, water slapping against the hull.
Angelica sat bolt upright, both Liva and Tori-Anna starting awake with hands on weapons in alarm, faces turned to Angelica in question.
"I hear someone out there."
