“Guns?” Kristos asked.
“They appear to be fully equipped,” she replied, handing him her spyglass. “But ask Sianh, I’ve no good gauge on naval weaponry.”
Sianh confirmed what Alba had guessed as soon as he arrived, snatching the glass from Kristos. “Serafan an-thentai. Exact translation is sea falcons, but they are the rough equivalent of your frigates.” He passed the glass to Theodor. “If they are being used as troop transport, they may be intending an incursion here. Our artillery will barrage and likely prevent landing. We will also assemble infantry to prevent their movement up the shoreline road if any are able to land.”
“I may be able to do something. If they’re close.” My mouth pinched. If they were close, and only if they were close, could I effect any change in their fortune. And if they were close, we were in danger.
The three ships grew nearer, aided by the swift winds bearing the bracing scent of salt. Their imposing rows of guns leered at the coastline from open ports. “They’re not close enough yet,” I said. The First Regiment assembled and marched toward the steep cliff road at a quick rate.
“At least they already voted,” I joked weakly.
Sianh nodded. “That will not do much good if these vessels are only the beginning of a larger invasion here.”
“Ever the optimist, Sianh.” Theodor’s voice was strained. “None of our intelligence suggests that the Serafans have committed to a full military alliance with the Royalists. Just tacit support.”
“That appears to be more than tacit support,” Sianh retorted.
“And they did send martial magicians,” I added. The ships grew closer. I began to pull dark curse magic. I could try for a ball of bad luck on their guns, laying destructive will on them as I had the Royalist ship on the way from Fen. It was the best idea I had; layering bad luck on the vessels would be difficult as they were still so far out.
I didn’t like how comfortable it felt even as I readied a fistful of curse magic.
“Wait.” Sianh squinted. “Those are not Royalist flags.”
I looked down at the ships, but didn’t see any flags I recognized at all. No Serafan banners, no Fenian commercial markings. But run high was a simple flag of red and gray stripes.
“Those are our colors,” I said, holding the darkness steady but not loosing it. Not yet. “Not our flag, but—”
“But intentionally those colors.” Sianh shook his head. “Have we a navy we did not know about?”
“I—I don’t know.” Theodor shook his head. “They’re not Royalist or Serafan.”
“Unless this is a very nasty ruse,” Sianh said. “Unbecoming of the Serafan Navy, but I would not put it past your Royalists to engage in such tactics.”
“Only one way to find out,” Theodor said. “Sophie, you should stay here. Just in case.”
“No, I should come with you. Just in case.” The ships drew closer to the bay below. “The closer I am, the more effective I am.”
He hesitated. “Sianh?”
“Wherever she is most effective. If this is a ruse, we will have very little time to react and our troops will be bottlenecked at the cliff road. Which is why I am going to remain here to direct the artillery and reinforcements.” He pressed his lips into a thin line, and I knew that there were a dozen scenarios unspooling behind his focused eyes.
“Good enough. We’ll go greet these—shall we optimistically call them a delegation?” Theodor said with a strained smile that Sianh didn’t return.
We moved quickly down the cliff road, its winding, slow descent particularly frustrating at this moment. I scuffed my boot on a rock and sent a loose torrent of gravel down the side of the cliff face.
“Easy,” said Theodor. “They’ll have to lower boats, and row them to shore, and that takes some time.”
“You’re assuming that they—whoever they are—are here for something nice, not Royalist marines worming their way past our artillery cover to pitch grenades through our defenses or some such.”
“You have the loveliest imagination,” Theodor said.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t consider it, too.”
“Of course I did. Not the grenades, I don’t believe that the marines employ grenadiers,” he added with a grin.
My breath pulsed against my stays, my lungs burning. If I was going to march north with the army, I chided myself, I was going to need to be in better condition.
We reached the bottom of the cliff road where it opened into a sandy harbor beach. Rows of red-and-gray clad soldiers lined the bottom of the road and the bay, making an impressive show of force with their muskets ready and bayonet hilts glinting in their belts. Already the ships had anchored in the bay and were preparing to lower boats.
“That’s a good sign,” I said, cautiously. “If they intended to fire on us, they wouldn’t be anchoring, would they?”
“Doubtful,” Theodor agreed. “I’ll get the opinion of the men down here—maybe you should find a place to cast from… just in case.” He strode toward a nearby officer, a captain of the First Regiment, and conversed with him in low tones.
The bay was wide and open, and the beach offered very little cover. Still, I spotted a rocky outcropping behind a company of the First where I could comfortably slip out of sight—and out of the way—if need be. I squinted at the boats, each outfitted with rows of oars manned by sailors. No uniforms, I ascertained, even on the man in the bow of one longboat, standing with hand on the hilt of a sword and, I guessed, either the captain of the ship or an officer of the landing party.
I looked harder, and my eyes widened. “Theodor!” I called, ducking out from my half-hidden spot and dashing toward him.
He turned, panicked, and I slowed my pace. “Don’t worry, it’s good news!”
The longboat scraped ashore as Theodor joined me. “Is that—no.”
“It is!” the officer called, and made a nimble hop into the shallow water, wading the last few steps to us, then drew Theodor into an exuberant embrace.
Annette. In a simple gray coat and with a dainty rapier slung over her chest, her dark hair clubbed and her cheeks ruddy with the sun.
“And you! Sophie! I’m so glad—I wasn’t sure if you had made it here.” She flung her arms around me, and I stood half-dumbfounded.
“But how?” I finally managed to ask. “How are you—with a boat—is that yours?” I asked, pointing to the sword.
Annette laughed, and the last of the tension holding the First Regiment behind us melted. “Yes, it’s mine. It’s a Serafan blade—pretty little thing, isn’t it? A captain of a ship needs a sword.”
“Captain of a ship!” Theodor exclaimed.
“Admiral of a fleet, if you prefer,” she said. “I’m given to understand you’re in need of a navy.”
“Desperately,” Theodor said. “But how is it you’ve come by one?”
“Oh, it’s a long story and involves too much time talking about bank transfers.” She turned back toward the boats. “So might we repair to your headquarters—I presume you at least have a marquee with a chair or two? I’ve someone on board who won’t wait another minute to get to the main encampment.”