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“Right now?” says Lyr, obediently getting to his feet. He sounds wary, but Damon doesn’t have time for Lyr’s concerns.
“Yes,” Damon says, grabbing hold of Lyr’s wrist as soon as he is on his feet.
“Why?” Lyr says as Damon drags him out of the tent.
“I need to speak to my fucking brother.”
As Damon drags Lyr through the camp, he sees Trysta. She sees him too, calling out and racing over.
“Damon,” she says. “Leaving without saying goodbye?”
“Atticul’s taken command of my fucking ship,” Damon snaps at her. “Sent it ahead to fucking Ik-Sundal to set up a second front.”
Trysta shrugs. “If you are no longer part of the Imperial Army you no longer have a fucking ship.”
“He knows if I knew of this I would have told him it’s too soon to push into Ik-Sundal. I would have made my point loudly and in front of his men.”
“When has Atticul ever sought your council? Even when you were one of his Generals.”
Damon leans close to Trysta. “He’s not even going himself. He’s sailing back to Attar. He expects me to take a cabin on the Azuria Ascendant.”
Trysta shrugs. “A fine ship.”
“No ship where Atticul is captain is fine for me.”
“I don’t think you have a choice unless you plan to march home.”
Damon swallows some of his rage. “When I am gone, I need you to look out for Endrew for me. He’s being left to lead this campaign. He’s twenty-two and struggles to keep charge of his men. You need to protect him.”
“Endrew is in command? I’ll do my best.”
“He’ll listen to you. Everyone listens to you.”
“They listen to me because they respect you. Everyone knows I have your ear.”
“So make it clear, any questioning of Endrew, any undermining of him and I will hear of it. Right?”
“Right.”
They look at each other. Damon sees it dawning on Trysta that they are saying goodbye. After years of fighting side by side, this could be the last time they see each other for a long time, perhaps forever. “Then, Zai, hold your heart,” he says, holding out a hand.
Trysta grasps his forearm. “Zai, hold your heart, soldier,” she says and pulls him into an embrace.
When he reaches the docks, Damon doesn’t have to look for Atticul. He comes swanning up to them, grinning. He has a tall woman on his arm, dressed in white and a little familiar. Damon assumes this is Atticul’s own prize from Ramel’s group of whores.
“Good morning to you, Bastard. Did you have a pleasant evening? We missed you at our revels. But I notice you vanished back to your tent as soon as you got your hands on this specimen.”
Damon glances at Lyr. He hadn’t given him much thought as he blazed through the camp to the docks. The place is hot and busy. The Imperial fleet is being readied for the return to Azuria. Men swarm everywhere loading ships with supplies. It’s a slick and regimented operation, typical of the Imperial Army. Damon notices that his ship, the White Watch, the flagship of his part of the fleet and the ship on which he always travels, is indeed gone.
“You sent my ship to Ik-Sundal.”
“It’s not your ship, Bastard, it’s the property of Azuria. As soon as you resigned your post it fell under my command as your superior. Did you really think you’d be allowed to simply keep a part of the Imperial fleet?”
“My ship was meant to be returning to Azuria.”
“There’s been a change of plan. We move forward to the Ik-Sundal border today. The White Watch has been sent down the coast to create a second front. Simply tactics.”
“Tactics?” Damon stares at Atticul. It will take days to march to the border between Jur-Mattan and Ik-Sundal and they will certainly meet Ik-Sundal troops there. There’s no port along the coast until Ashkan. His ship has not been sent to create a second front. “Are you chasing someone?”
