By Schism Rent Asunder Read Free Page B

mother. He was probably going to favor his father in height, too, although it was a bit early to be sure about that. At fifteen, Crown Prince Hektor still had some growing to do.
    In more ways than one , his father thought grimly.
    â€œNo, we can’t,” he said aloud. The crown prince frowned, and his shoulders hunched as he shoved his hands into his breeches’ pockets. It wouldn’t be quite fair to call his expression a pout, but Prince Hektor couldn’t think of a word that came closer.
    Irys, you’re worth a dozen of him, the prince thought. Why, oh why, couldn’t you have been born a man?
    Unfortunately, Princess Irys hadn’t been, which meant Hektor had to make do with his namesake.
    â€œPay attention,” he said coldly now, giving the boy a moderately stern glare. “Men died to bring this ship home, Hektor. You might learn something from their example.”
    Hektor the younger flushed angrily at the public reprimand. His father observed his darkened color with a certain satisfaction, then reminded himself that publicly humiliating the child who would someday sit on his throne and rule his princedom was probably not a very good idea. Princes who remembered that sort of treatment tended to take it out on their own subjects, with predictable results.
    Not that the odds of this particular crown prince having the opportunity to do anything of the sort were particularly good. Which had quite a lot to do with the damage to the battered galley on which Hektor stood.
    He turned in place, looking up and down the full length of the ship. Tartarian was right, he reflected. Getting this ship home must have been a nightmare. Her pumps were still working even now, as she lay to her anchor. The long, crawling voyage home from Darcos Sound—almost seven thousand miles—in a ship which had been holed at least a dozen times below the waterline, and a third of whose crew had been slaughtered by the Charisian artillery, was the stuff of which legends were made. Hektor hadn’t even tried to count the shot holes above the waterline, but he’d already made a mental note to have Captain Zhoel Harys promoted.
    And at least I have plenty of vacancies to promote him into, don’t I? Hektor thought, looking down at the dark discoloration where human blood had soaked deeply into Lance ’s deck planking.
    â€œAll right, Hektor,” he said. “We can go, I suppose. You’re late for your fencing lesson, anyway.”
    *   *   *
    Some hours later, Hektor; Admiral Tartarian; Sir Lyndahr Raimynd, Hektor’s treasurer; and the Earl of Coris, his spymaster, sat in a small council chamber whose window overlooked the naval anchorage.
    â€œHow many does that make, My Prince?” Earl Coris asked.
    â€œNine,” Hektor said, rather more harshly than he’d intended to. “Nine,” he repeated in a more moderate tone. “And I doubt we’re going to see many more of them.”
    â€œAnd according to our latest messages from the Grand Duke, none of the Zebediahan-manned galleys have made it home even now,” Coris murmured.
    â€œI’m well aware of that,” Hektor said.
    And I’m not very surprised, either , he thought. There never were many of them, and despite anything Tohmys may have to say, I’ll wager his precious captains surrendered just about as quickly as Sharleyan’s Chisholmians. He snorted mentally . After all, they love me just about as much as Sharleyan does .
    Actually, that probably wasn’t quite fair, he reflected. It had been over twenty years since he had defeated and deposed—and executed—the last Prince of Zebediah. Who hadn’t been a particularly good prince before the conquest even when he’d had a head, as even the most rabid Zebediahan patriot was forced to admit. Hektor might have displayed a certain ruthlessness in rooting out potential resistance and making sure the entire