He expected a deluge of objections, but the court was silent. The merchant lords in their gaudy robes and jewels avoided his gaze. They knew what he would ask next.
“Since I have no royal ships left,” D’zan said, “I require a merchant vessel and its crew for this voyage. I will pay handsomely any sea lord who volunteers. You will also have the glory of serving your King and the interests of the realm.”
There was silence between the tapestries decorating the throne room walls.
The graybeard Metricus, who served as Master of Coin for the King, leaned close to whisper in D’zan’s ear. “Majesty, you will find it difficult to convince any of the merchant houses to offer up their vessels. This is the busiest of trading seasons after all. And there are other factors as well.”
“What other factors?” D’zan asked.
“Forgive me, my King,” said Metricus, “but there is a rumor that the Sea God’s curse lies upon your house. No other King in our history has lost an entire fleet. Naturally I, myself, do not believe such nonsense, but these merchants are prey to many superstitions. Lastly, it is well known that the Isle of Iardu is protected by sorcery that manifests as a ring of perpetual storms to drive away continental ships. Many men have died while seeking the Shaper’s favor.”
D’zan leaned his head against the cushioned back of his throne. “So fear and superstition rule the hearts of Yaskatha’s nobles.” He said it loud enough so that all in the hall could hear him. “If the Sea God’s curse lies upon me, then why did he spare me at the Battle of the Jades?”
None of the assembled nobles would dare to answer this question.
“I will pay fourteen chests of gold to the lord who lends me a ship,” D’zan said. “Consider this offer as you dine at my table and enjoy the pleasures of my court this evening.”
D’zan left the throne and the fawning courtiers, choosing to take his supper on a balcony overlooking the harbor. Sharadza used to sit with him on this same terrace. The young couple had watched the moon rise many times from this perch. Lyrilan had sat here drinking with D’zan during his brief exile. Both D’zan’s first love and his best friend were far from him now.
Surrounded by a palace full of people, D’zan was alone.
In the early morning a servant roused him while Cymetha and the baby were still asleep. It seemed that a young merchant lord had come forth to accept the King’s generous offer. D’zan dressed himself in a tunic of silver and sable, donned the lightest of his three crowns, and met the merchant in his private study.
Lord Andolon of House Silver was at least two years younger than D’zan, who was still a young King at the age of twenty-four. Andolon was a slim youth with angular shoulders, bright eyes, and a strong chin. His black mustache was neatly trimmed and oiled, and he wore rich fabrics done in a simple style. A necklace of silver links marked the sign of his wealthy and well-reputed house. His father had died only recently, leaving tremendous wealth and status to his eldest son. Andolon’s five younger brothers sailed the finest vessels in their house’s fleet. D’zan could tell Andolon was also a swordsman by the thickness of his arms and the way he carried himself. The longblade on his hip with its ornate handle might have been worn by any merchant nobleman, but here was a man who knew how to wield such a blade. This was a rare skill among the elite of tradesmen.
After formal introductions, Andolon spoke with candor and grace. “My Lord, I am ashamed of the cowardice displayed by my fellow merchants,” he said. “I offer you my house’s proudest vessel, the Cointosser, and the service of its best and boldest captain, that noble personage being myself.”
D’zan smiled. “My gold has swayed you.”
Andolon cocked his head. The oiled ringlets of his hair hung below his shoulders. “I will accept no payment, Majesty,” he said. “It is my duty to serve you, and in so doing to prove that Yaskathans are not afraid of the sea or its mysteries. My father served your own in the wars of the Southern Isles. It was the abiding pride of his life. I can do no less.”
You are lucky that you did not serve me when I sailed to the Jade Isles.
“I accept your kind offer,” said D’zan, “and I commend your bravery.”
The very next day the Cointosser had departed. Cymetha tried to talk D’zan out of making the voyage, and little Theskalus cried the whole morning. D’zan could not explain himself to his wife. Not yet. He simply asked Cymetha to trust him. He kissed the infant on its forehead before leaving the palace.
The Cointosser was manned by thirty men, including Andolon, who was its captain. D’zan brought a company of twelve palace guardsmen along, at the insistence of his advisors. The bright sails of the merchant fleets in the harbor grew tiny as the Cointosser took to the open sea. On the ninth day they passed the pearly cliffs of Mumbaza, whose harbor sat nearly empty of swanships. Perhaps a dozen of the white ships had remained behind when most had sailed to make war under Undutu’s banner. D’zan had considered leaving a few of his own ships in Yaskatha when he had joined the swan fleet, but he knew he would need every single one of them to destroy the black reavers of Khyrei. How could he know that the reavers would end up his allies instead of enemies? Or that numbers of ships would make no difference in the slaughter to come? As it was with Yaskatha, the majority of ships docking at Mumbaza now were merchant vessels.