Mamoru didn’t respond, staring straight ahead. He and Anhalt and four White Guardsmen stood facing the door. The wrought-iron elevator rose fitfully past an endless brick wall as it churned up the center of the great tower of Pharos One.
Anhalt didn’t turn his head. “Her Majesty regrets that she is unable to see you off. Despite all that has happened, she wishes me to convey her best wishes and sincere gratitude for all you did for her and her family.”
The samurai was apparently unmoved. His crimson robe fluttered in the wind pouring down the shaft.
The sirdar produced a heavy envelope with imperial seals. “This is an official edict of persona non grata. As well as a secret proclamation signed by Empress Adele the First confining you to imprisonment for the remainder of your life. You are to be taken to Jahannam Prison, a facility reserved for imperial enemies of the highest order. You shall be its only current inhabitant, but your accommodations will be hospitable, even luxurious by some standards.” Mamoru’s hands were chained behind his back, so Anhalt replaced the letters into his own tunic. “Your fate will be tucked into your luggage.”
The general clasped his hands behind his back, content to see the rest of this duty done in silence. He took no pleasure in it. He’d never had much contact with Mamoru over the years, and had never completely trusted him. However, the teacher had fed an intellectual curiosity in the empress that no one else could. She needed challenges to be happy, and the samurai priest had always provided that. This betrayal by her beloved Mamoru could’ve been a crushing blow, but Adele’s all-encompassing duty as empress kept her aloft.
Still, Anhalt feared for Adele. He was typically far away at the front, Greyfriar was frequently gone, and now Mamoru was banished. He would stay in Alexandria until the spring offensive began, but the days when he could remain by her side were over. There was no one to block the fierce winds that were sweeping around her.
The elevator cage jerked to a rough stop and Anhalt yanked back the gate. He stepped out into near gale-force winds that blasted the mooring platform atop Pharos One, the highest airship tower in Alexandria.
Beyond saluting soldiers, across the hundred yards of concrete, looming above the busy mooring crew, was an Equatorian frigate lashed close to the tower. The hull of the ship was a dull brown and grey, but the aluminum cage around the dirigible sparkled with the sun of a painfully blue sky. Mobs of teamsters lugged cargo over multiple gangplanks. A spiderweb of hoses hung from the ship’s dirigible as buoyancy gases were pumped in. Anhalt strode toward the airship with Mamoru and the White Guard behind. A parade of reports met him as he passed.
“The prisoner’s quarters are ready, Sirdar.”
“Khyber is scheduled to make way in two hours, Sirdar.”
“The prisoner’s baggage is stowed, Sirdar.”
Anhalt acknowledged each announcement until he reached a gangplank where a naval lieutenant waited. They exchanged salutes, and the young naval officer looked past Anhalt to study Mamoru. The sirdar produced multiple envelopes that flapped in the wind, threatening to escape into space.
“These are your orders, Lieutenant,” Anhalt said loudly, “regarding the disposition of the prisoner.”
The officer in his dress blue uniform with gold piping took the papers delicately in white-gloved hands, noting the highest imperial seal on the heavy paper. His nasal voice was not suited to the occasion. “I relieve you of your prisoner, sir.”
“I stand relieved.” Anhalt turned for a final word with his one-time ally. “This is good-bye then. We shall never meet again.”
“No, we shan’t.” Mamoru kicked back and struck one of the White Guard in the face and, in a single motion, slammed his foot into another man’s head. There was a hard snap. Then he leapt into air, striking out with both legs, spinning in the air, smashing two soldiers aside. He was so fast he could barely be seen, and he didn’t stop moving.
Anhalt’s saber was barely clear of the scabbard when the samurai cracked a foot into the general’s knee. As Anhalt staggered, Mamoru jumped and brought his chained hands under the soles of his feet. He had hardly touched the concrete again before he pulled a soldier’s sword free. With foot planted, he brought the saber against the sirdar’s chest. Anhalt reared back violently, off-balance, trying to gain distance from the deadly blade. He felt pressure pass along the front of his uniform jacket, and then a strong hand fell across his neck with a foot against his shin, tumbling him to the ground. He rolled off his right hip, trying for his revolver. A flash of red robe passed and slammed into the lieutenant, who had barely time to blink since the attack began. The young man toppled helplessly over the rail of the gangplank and off the tower.