Once the brig was secured to makeshift mooring stakes, a gangplank descended. General Anhalt started to lope up, but he was met by Empress Adele striding down. She smiled wide, enhancing her Persian features. Her expression was open and friendly, an odd combination of girlish enthusiasm and mature intelligence, even wisdom. Her hair was unencumbered and went chaotic in the wind. She was lovely, but not stunning. Still, she exuded a personal authority that demanded attention.
She wore simple traveling clothes. A long corduroy skirt topped leather boots with a heavy Madras blouse, a thick fur-lined coat flying open over it all. She had her Fahrenheit khukri dagger, a gift from her late mother, shoved into her belt.
The lanky form of a hard-eyed army captain was close at the empress's elbow. Her White Guard in their khaki helmets, red woolen tunics, and blue trousers with white gaiters crowded behind her like a protective scarlet cloak. Anhalt had once commanded the esteemed White Guard. He knew these men well, particularly their new commander, Captain Shirazi. They were a select core of the regiment, the most loyal and toughest men who had accompanied him last summer deep into Africa with the exiled princess Adele. This group had bonded into a distinct unit, fanatically dedicated to the empress. They came to refer to themselves as the Harmattan, the fearful red wind of the Sahara. Adele couldn't go far without her loyal Harmattan swirling about her.
The general's stern demeanor didn't alter as he backed up so the empress could descend the gangplank, though it didn't seem to faze her. Her stride continued steady and measured, her expression remained regal, her head held high. She was every inch an empress and no longer the exuberant young girl he remembered.
Troopers who were gathering around the ship in great numbers began to chant her name. Adele inclined her head to the ranks, but he knew she was listening for only one voice among the multitudes. Her eyes scanned the gathering crowd, holding a trace of disappointment. Anhalt regarded her, his mouth a hard line. His right arm snapped up into a salute that he didn't release until she nodded. Then he dropped to one knee before her, head bowed. The whole battlefield around them followed suit in a rattle of arms and mail.
Anhalt heard Adele's breath quicken at the magnitude of her people's loyalty. He was proud that there was no sign of a haughty demeanor in her, only genuine gratitude for the troops' respect and adoration.
“Rise, Sirdar,” Adele said, extending her arm.
General Anhalt took her hand, and immediately felt weakness in it. “Your Majesty. Are you well?”
“I am,” she replied warmly, noting his expression of concern. “It is so good to see you, my old friend.” She scanned the crowd again and her voice held a trace of anxiety, “Where is Greyfriar?”
“He could not attend you.” When her concerned eyes darted quickly to him, Anhalt shook his head. “He is well, Your Majesty, merely…indisposed.”
Adele breathed a sigh of relief.
“Your arrival is most unexpected.” He raised a chiding eyebrow at her, then at the captain of the Harmattan. “And most foolish.”
There was a collective gasp. The gathered soldiers' surprised looks darted between the general and the empress. Adele stared sternly at Anhalt, but then after a moment laughed loudly, throwing her head back in delight. “Only you would be cross at me for saving your life.”
“Perhaps next time you could just send the ship without escorting it yourself.”
“Now where's the fun in that?”
“The Empire cannot bear your loss, Your Majesty.”
“Of course not, Sirdar,” she conceded with a sobering nod, “but in this case, my presence was necessary. It was the only way to break through the enemy lines and reach you. And to bring you supplies.”
He bowed and smiled at her. “Then you are most welcome.”
Captain Hariri came down the gangplank with desert robes flying, and clasped Anhalt warmly. “Just like old times, eh? But colder.”
The general grunted. “You really should at least try to resist going along with the empress's schemes.”
“I only follow your voluminous previous examples, effendi.”
Anhalt regarded Adele with a scowl. “I should have never introduced the two of you.”
“Adele!”
The empress spun toward the familiar voice, her entire demeanor swiftly altering from a woman in charge to a woman in love.
The tall figure in grey strode to her, his long hair blowing wildly along with the ends of his head wrap. Adele ran to him but immediately halted as Greyfriar stiffened in his tracks, exhaling a sharp hiss of pain. He took a halting step back from her.
Adele's face showed her own anguish. The geomancy still echoed in her veins.