CHAPTER SIX
Allies

INTERNATIONAL CORPORATIONS…..In our day and age, the only true international corporations – those that operate in more than one nation of Terra, and are not partly or entirely owned by their respective Governments – all have their headquarters in the Fulton Republic, which was left relatively unscathed by the Terran War and its aftermath. But it is not false pride to note that the first such corporation, Regale Enterprises, was owned and run by Galvenians, and that its subsequent move to Fulton had more to do with the politics of loyalty than with any economic considerations…

- ENCYCLOPEDIA GALVENICA, 24th Edition, C.Y. 347

I don't know whom to tell, Lavie thought, as she stepped off the ferry from Mann Island, and looked around at the docks of Davenport. Mom, of course, but….I wish Ryan were here. Maybe I should just – write to him, though he may not bother replying, the jerk! Or maybe I should speak to the Lieutenant. He was so helpful when Daddy was shifted to the prison hospital…

For Sigmund Regale was now learning the hard way that years of toil, and of a certain devotion to Galvenia's finest breweries, did not go unnoticed by the body. He was now mercifully over the "terrors" of his first day of imprisonment, but his liver was – according to the physicians – in bad shape, and he would be discharged back to a low-security prison only in another two weeks. He had pleaded guilty to being one of the group that had sent Socius the Memory Crystal, but refused to name names, and strenuously denied any role in his assassination – something that Lavie and Emily, too, believed steadfastly.

Poor Daddy, she thought. I know he could be awful at times, but he's had a hard life, and he's always tried to be good to me. In a way, he's a lot softer on Mom now that he's sick, and they aren't quarrelling that often. Things were looking good – until today…

Slinging her bow across her back, she began to walk down the path that led back to the town, when she was shaken out of her brown study by a scream.

"Leave me alone!" a girl's voice called out indignantly. "What did I do to you, anyway?"

There was the sound of someone being pushed against a stack of crates, and Lavie froze, then drew her bow, moving forward cautiously. That voice, she thought. It can't be…

"Not screaming so much now, aren't you?" a man's voice, rough and harsh, replied. "Now, this is how it's going to be. We're going to take you with us, and your dad's going to sing like a canary. Do you…."

"Let go of her!" Lavie cried out, stepping behind the crates and finding that her ears had not played her false. Lying on the ground and struggling to stand was her rival, Marianne Robertson, who was being dragged by her hair by a tall, thin man with a scar on his right shoulder.

"Oh, look what we have here," the man said, looking at Lavie and whistling. "Baby doll, I'll tell you what. I'll leave the little girl alone if you give me a kiss or two. How about it?"

"How about trying this!" Lavie said angrily, scraping an arrow against her bangle and firing it at the man. It struck him squarely on the arm, and his shirt caught fire, sending him running desperately in the direction of the sea. A second man, who had been waiting behind a crate, saw the fate that had befallen his friend, and fled in turn.

"Hmph, what a jerk!" Lavie said. "That'll teach him a lesson, for sure!"

"Lavie?" Marianne rose to her knees with difficulty, and raised her head. "Sweet heavens, Lavie, what are you doing here of all people?"

"What does it look like?" Lavie replied archly, then softened, as she realized that Marianne was terrified. "I just heard you scream, and I, um, felt I had to intervene. It's nothing, really."

"Lavie, thank you," Marianne said, still shaking.

"Oh, don't mention it," Lavie replied, offering her a hand and helping her stand. "I suppose that if I can't help Ryan, I might as well help – those he cares about," she went on, a little stiffly.

"Ryan?" Marianne shook her head. "Look, Lavie, I'm sorry about Ryan, but that's all over, okay? I did try to make things up with him before he left, but he wouldn't reply to my note. I wrote to him twice, but I didn't get a reply."

"That makes two of us," Lavie said, surprised by what she had just heard. "Who were those horrid men, anyway?"

"I'd never seen them in my life before," Marianne replied, still breathing heavily. "I'd come down to the docks to pick up a parcel for my dad, and then the tall guy suddenly sprang out at me! He had the parcel, and he said he was going to – kidnap me and blackmail my dad…" She began to weep.

Awkwardly, Lavie placed a hand on the girl's shoulder. "It's all right, Marianne," she said. "You're safe now. But what do you mean, blackmailing your dad?"

"I don't know," Marianne said, shaking her head wildly. "Dad's an agent for many businessmen, including your dad. Maybe they wanted some business knowledge or trade secrets."

"Hmm, but isn't kidnapping his daughter rather a drastic thing to do?" Lavie reflected. "There must be something more to this."

"I don't know," Marianne replied. "Dad's so busy with his work, and though he does try to spend time with me, I'm alone most of the time. I – I miss Ryan, Lavie…"

"That makes two of us again, Marianne," Lavie said, not unkindly. "Your parents split up, didn't they?"

"Mom walked out on us just before our graduation, to be with some guy in Lorean," Marianne said, with an expression of disgust on her face. "She and Dad had been fighting a long time before that, mainly about her debts. It's just been the two of us since then – Dad and I."

"I'm sorry," Lavie said. "Look, Marianne, we've got to inform the police about this. If someone's stealing stuff from your dad and threatening you, we can't ignore it!"

"I don't know if I could face the police right now…" Marianne said doubtfully.

"Then come and – have a cup of tea, and if you're hurt, Carmen will look after you," Lavie said, a little reluctantly. "I'll talk to Mom – Granddaddy was a judge, so she knows some folks in the police, and they might be able to help you. That is, if you want to."

Marianne smiled weakly. "That's kind of you, Lavie," she replied. "I think I will. Dad won't be home anyway."

xxx

The month appointed by President Hipper was almost at an end, and the Zion troops showed no signs of leaving Itaria. Neither the ferocity of their war with the Varald – they had recaptured some of their towns, but were still suffering significant losses – nor the threat of Commonwealth action, nor the cold Itarian winter, seemed to dissuade them. Shipments of coal from Fulton – one of Itaria's greatest sources of fuel – were almost completely cut off, and when the Pontiff met his Council of Bishops, they met by candlelight.

"What news from the city, Polycarp?" Pious said, the light of the candle at his right hand reflecting off his spectacles.

Archbishop Polycarp Meissner – Pious' right-hand man, and the man involved in most of the practical governance of Itaria – folded his hands. "There is good and bad, Pontiff," he replied in a booming bass voice that had, in his younger days, made him a prized member of the Pontifical Chorus of Chant. "The courage of the simple folk, even in the face of privation, is heartening. Despite the almost complete loss of revenue from tourism, we have been able to ensure that the winter did not claim too many victims. And attendance at churches and liturgies has not decreased by one iota – nay, it has increased slightly. However…"

"You may speak frankly, Meissner," Archbishop Diaz said. "We are among friends here."

"Diaz, let me be as frank as I can," Meissner went on, with a sigh. "Unfortunately, this blockade has also brought tensions within our own land to the forefront. On the one hand, there are those who are pro-Zion, and who have begun to repeat the Zion's evil rumours about Pontiff Augustus and the false 'Secret of Geraud'. These groups live largely in the towns along the coast. On the other, there are those who are anti-Zion, and who see Charlemagne as another Maximilian the Heretic. They are angry with the blockade, have staged vigils outside the Zion embassy, and have been to mutter – not too loudly – about taking up arms."

"Much as I expected, my good Polycarp," Pontiff Pious replied. "What of the Itarian Guard?"

"They are unhappy, Pontiff. They are less used to living simply than the folk in our villages and towns, many of whom have only limited access to modernity in the first place. Moreover, many of them are Zionese, and while some oppose Charlemagne's tactics, others are less certain."

"Is there any imminent danger of an insurrection?"Archbishop Batista, whose diocese covered the coastal towns, said sharply.

"Not so far, Batista," Meissner replied. "but we cannot rule out the possibility. The loss of tourists has hit several people hard, and they will turn either against the Zion, or against us…"

"What news from the Commonwealth, Diaz?" the Pontiff interrupted.

"Mazarus has just informed me that Hipper will be deploying a fleet of the Commonwealth Naval Authority, carrying a projection force of around one thousand troops mainly drawn from the Republic and a few Galvenians. If needed, they will be strengthened by further troops withdrawn from the Republic, as Hipper feels that a regular peacekeeping force is not needed there."

"From the Republic?" Pious XXI closed his eyes. "You wouldn't suppose that they'd be withdrawing them from…"

"Your Holiness!" Meissner exclaimed. "Surely even Hipper would not dare to do that. For almost a century and a half, the troops in Indernes have guarded – what lies there."

"I must confess I foresaw such an eventuality, Polycarp," Pious said apologetically. "I did not want to frighten you with it, my friends, but now I see that we must bow with the inevitable."

"Then Saint Geraud's prophecy was…" Diaz began, then stopped, looking at his colleagues with horror.

"Not yet, my good Diaz, not yet – there are some prophecies which are proleptic, as you well know. They have an early, partial fulfillment, but their consummation comes about later. We are in for troubled times, but remember" – he smiled and folded his hands in prayer – "the end is not yet. We must pray and hope, for now things will begin to unravel."

"May the Infinity save us all," Batista whispered.

xxx

"This is an outrage!" Jeffrey Tolbruk grumbled, hurling his empty glass against the wall, where it shattered. "Do these Royal morons not realize how much they, and their precious Socius, owe to us?"

"Easy there, Mr. Tolbruk," Theodore Eramond said uneasily. He had always been uncomfortable at the few semi-secret meetings of the Fletcher Council that he had attended, but never as much as he was today. "Remember, Sigmund is holding firm, and they have no evidence on which to detain him. Soon, he'll be back with his family."

"Theodore is right, Jeffrey," Ellesimar Vryce observed, petting the dog that danced around his heels. "But something evil is afoot, mark my words. We need to get to the bottom of it all. The outrage on Robertson's daughter indicates that we are dealing with a clever enemy, one who wants to harm both us and the Galvenian government."

"We need allies, gentlemen – the Fletcher Council was never meant to be involved in espionage, though Robertson has served us wonderfully," Simeon Wright said, shaking his head.

"I have a suggestion," Alex Robertson replied. He still looked hesitant, and was trying hard not to show how much the attack on his beloved "little girl" had unnerved him. "I have it on good authority that young Marksmith is doing a little private investigation of his own."

"Marksmith?" Vryce picked up his dog, Lucky, and placed him on his lap. "Isn't he our next Prince Consort?"

"That's not yet public knowledge, Vryce," Tolbruk replied, "but it's the worst-kept secret in Galvenia, I'd say. How do you know this, Robertson?"

"Let's just say that some of my men ran into some of his, and we found that we had a common adversary," Robertson replied quietly. "I have made tentative overtures to him, as instructed by Sigmund…"

"What? Is Regale already out of prison?" Tolbruk exclaimed.

"No, he communicates with me by telegram, using a pre-arranged code. He is eager to meet us a week from now, to exchange information. What do you think?"

Slowly, all the men in the room nodded, except Theodore Eramond, and they all turned to stare at him.

"I don't know how good an idea this is, Alex," he said, finally, realizing that he was expected to speak. "Father always told me that the Marksmiths were two-faced, and Walter had conclusive evidence that they played turncoat at Chespa Bay, though that information was sealed by King George III for political reasons. For all we know, he could be like his ancestors."

"Nonsense, Eramond," Vryce said soothingly. "Don't be a wet blanket. We need to pool our resources and get to the bottom of this Socius affair, if we don't want a cloud to hang over Regale Enterprises."

"Or Eramond Delivery Services," Wright added slyly.

Theodore's shoulders sagged. "Very well," he replied with a sigh. "We might as well give it a try."

xxx

"Good riddance, I say," Lieutenant-Colonel Stein of the Commonwealth Special Forces commented, as the last of his men boarded the ships bound for Itaria. "It was nice having a paid vacation all this time, but it's good to see some action for a change!"

"How bad is the situation there, Stein?" was the rejoinder from his fellow commanding officer, Rear Admiral Suleiman of the Commonwealth Naval Authority. "Hipper's already sent some of us over there, bless his soul."

"The Zion are absurd," Stein replied. "Our forces are already approaching Itaria, and they're making no move to pull out – in fact, our agents have informed us that they are trying to make contacts with rebels along the coast. Do they want to invade the wretched country? Isn't one war at a time enough for Terra?"

"I have to agree with you, Stein," Suleiman replied, "and yet – who are we to comment on what's absurd? Haven't we been the living definition of absurdity, guarding a territory which is only occupied by a few peasants and artisans, and where the last armed conflict occurred one hundred and fifty-five years ago? Honestly, though I have no brief for the Varald, I agree with Hipper – guarding Indernes is a waste of time."

"Unless there are still Zion sorcerers hidden there," Stein joked. "If there are, they'd better get their hundred-league boots on and fly to the Zion border as soon as they can – before the Varald make further incursions! Hell, Suleiman, magic is probably the only thing that can save them from a long, painful, humiliating war of attrition."

"And this time, they won't be the ones suing for peace," Suleiman replied, chuckling to himself. "But let's get going now. All your men are accounted for. What are the orders?"

"Hipper has asked us to approach Itaria, but to wait for instructions from our colleagues who reach there first," Stein said. "After all, it's not like the Zion are going to start attacking us immediately."

"Perhaps they'll start praying for the Almighty to smite us," Suleiman replied, as the two men boarded their ship in high good humour, unaware of what they would soon face…

xxx

"To Darington?" Henrik said doubtfully. "But – that isn't even Galvenian territory now; it's Imperial soil, and it's highly guarded after the war and the death of Socius. How will we get in?"

"I think my friend Miriam will answer that for us, Spenson," Professor Scott replied.

"Miriam?"

"Well, hello, Henrik!" Sister Miriam said, entering the room flushed and a little out of breath. "Goodness, when the Duke wrote to me last week, I didn't know what I was getting into!"

"Hi, Sister!" Henrik said, greeting her with a smile and a wave. "Don't tell me you're a part of this too…"

"I'm afraid I am," she replied. "You two children will need a chaperone for the trip to Issachar. When the Archbishop of Lorean gives me an instruction, I must obey!"

"Issachar?" Viola drew in her breath sharply. "What's happening, Sister?"

"Let me explain," Miriam said patiently, as she sat down next to Professor Scott. "It is almost certain that the Zion will make an attempt to kidnap – or even harm – Mother Anna, the elderly superior of the Sisters of Redemption at Issachar."

"Yes, I read the papers," Henrik observed, holding up the Davenport Herald. Its front page recorded the Pontiff's official censure of the Zion blockade of Itaria, as well as a statement from Sister Anna, expressing support for the Pontiff and disapproval for his former allies' conduct. "But I didn't think they would dare to do so. It would be a grave sin to harm her."

"The Council of Viceroys is not truly religious, Spenson," Professor Scott replied. "They are using religion as a tool to set up their precious Hohenzollern Emperor, that's all."

"Therefore, the Archbishop of Lorean – working with the approval of the Pontiff – has taken it upon himself to offer her a safe place in Galvenia, at least until the war ends," Miriam continued. "And if you are willing, children, you can help us. Ivan was one of the Pontiff's contacts in Galvenia, and his mission – besides studying philosophy – was to assess if the time was ripe for such a rescue, poor soul."

"Ivan?" Viola wiped a tear from her eye. "If he was helping you with this, Sister, I am willing to do the same, and I'm sure Henrik feels the same way."

"No disagreement there," Henrik agreed. "What is it that we need to do?"

"It is simple. This Saturday, you and Miss Benise, accompanied by Miriam and one of our priests, will travel across the border to Darington, in the guise of youth seeking to join the Mendicant Brothers of Divine Love."

"Hmm, I've actually contributed to that order," Henrik said. "Ryan used to make fun of them, and call them the 'Romancing Walkers', because many of them were personable young men."

Viola giggled. "That's actually sort of funny, Henrik," she replied. "Are you sure they won't spot us, Sister? I mean, Mummy was a churchgoer, but I'm not exactly the religious type!"

"They're working with us, Henrik," Miriam replied with a grin. "Once you reach Darington, the Superior of the Mendicant Brothers, Brother Richard, will place you on a carriage. To all appearances, it will be carrying patients to a hospital run by the Sisters of Redemption at Issachar, and you will be dressed as nursing students. You will travel there, and meet Mother Anna, who will leave with you and return first to Darington, and then to Lorean."

"Will they let us go so easily?" Henrik said, surprised.

"Oh, it'll be a fair exchange, Henrik," Miriam replied. "I will stay behind in her place and keep them running. If the Zion want an impostor" – she chuckled – "let's give them one!"

"But won't it be dangerous, Sister?" Viola gasped. "Sooner or later, they'll find out."

"A Sister of Saint Mikhail is ready to defend her fellow religious, even if this means danger," Sister Miriam said stoutly, a determined look on her face. "As for the journey out, we have friends here who will help us. Father Eugene Thomssen, the Queen's spiritual advisor, and the Duke of Marksmith will arrange the necessary permits and documents, and will even provide you with concealed guards for your return. They will also keep Mother Anna concealed at Court, until the Commonwealth can repulse the Zion attack on Itaria. Now, Henrik, Viola – are you still with us?"

"Absolutely, Sister," Henrik replied, looking at her with admiration. "It's bad enough that I can't join the Army because Father refused; let me at least serve Galvenia, and the Faith, as best as I can."

"I'm with Henrik," Viola said, colouring deeply. "I may not know much about your Church, but I do know what is right and what is wrong."

"Excellent, my friends," Professor Scott replied. "Now, tonight after the curfew, meet me in my room. I'll have a carriage waiting to take you to Marksmith's manor, and we'll leave from there."

xxx

"To the Republic?" Lavie said, her eyes widening. "What do you mean, Mom? We can't leave home!"

"I'm afraid that's what we'll have to do, Lavie, at least for a while," Emily said sadly. "It's part of the conditions for your father's release. Though they've found him 'not guilty', he's still under a cloud, and they've given us two options. Either we can stay here under house arrest, with policemen living in Casa Regale, or he can accept a temporary exile in the Fulton, where some of his relatives live. It'll only be for a year – or less, if the war ends before that."

"Suppose the Republic is also involved in the war," Lavie whispered. "Will we ever be able to go home again?"

"I do hope so, dear, and I don't think Fulton is important enough to be involved in any war," Emily said soothingly. "Now chin up, Lavie, and take it as a Lancaster woman should. We both know that your father is innocent, and that this is just the Unionist Party's attempt at revenge, but we will not let that defeat us."

"But what about Gran?" Lavie said anxiously. "She's already been ill, and she's…" She stopped herself, blushing.

"What about Mother, Lavie?" Emily said sharply, noticing the guilty look on her daughter's face.

"Oh, I didn't want to tell you, Mom," Lavie stammered, "but now…."

"Out with it, Lavie," Emily replied, a little more gently. "You're been going around with a long face for over a week now, and I'm sure it's not just about Ryan. What has Mother told you?"

"Gran said she's consulted the doctors at Lorean," Lavie said, so softly that Emily had to stand beside her, "and they're afraid they can't do very much more…for her. They've given her…a month, at best."

"A month!" Emily stared at her daughter uncomprehendingly. "Lavender Regale, do you mean you knew Mother was dying, and you never told me?"

"She made me promise not to tell you," Lavie wailed. "She said she'd sent word to you when – when the time was near, because she knew you were worried about Daddy, and she didn't want to upset you further…"

"Dear Mother," Emily said, feeling a lump rise in her throat. "She was always like that. Well, Lavie, now that you've told me, I don't have the heart to scold you – or to remain here talking about the Republic. Get dressed, Lavie. We're going to see her."

"All right, Mom," Lavie replied, a little more cheerily – for even in the current circumstances, she always treasured her visits to her grandmother. "I hope – she'll understand, and not be too mad at me…"

"Oh, Lavie," Emily said, embracing her, "trust me, I know Mother. She won't mind."

xxx

"A transfer to the Commonwealth Special Forces?" Ryan said, staring incredulously at the letter in front of him. "Are you sure this isn't some sort of joke?"

"I'm afraid not, Ryan," Sergeant Ferrars replied. "The Commonwealth is calling for reinforcements, now that the Zion have actually launched an attack on the Itarian coast. The Zion and the Varald cannot commit more men to them, and the Rough Riders are on the Zion border. Hipper sent a personal request to the King, asking for reserves from the regular forces."

"But isn't getting into the CSF, um, difficult?" Ryan said, still unable to believe his good fortune. "My dad tried to, and he couldn't."

"Your dad didn't save the Crown Princess of Galvenia twice, son," Ferrars said affectionately. "Besides, your performance so far – at the mines, on Royal guard duty, and at Darington – has been good, and King Arlbert himself recommended you and Humphreys. Do us proud, Lance-Corporal."

"I will, Sir," Ryan said.

"Lieutenant Curtis, here, will brief you about your upcoming mission," Ferrars said, leading Ryan to a smaller room and opening the door. "Good luck, Ryan."

"Thank you, sir," Ryan replied. As he entered the room, he found a hundred of his fellow soldiers with him – including his platoon-mates, Humphreys and Davies – already seated. Lieutenant Curtis of the Commonwealth Naval Authority was standing in front of a blackboard, holding a pointer in one hand.

"Ah, hello, Eramond," he said. "Do take a seat. Now that we're all here, let me tell you what's going to happen in Itaria. There'll be about five hundred of you setting sail from Serin's Peak by the end of this week, in ten of our ships. Your mission is to keep the peace – not to engage the Zion in combat, unless this is inevitable, but to protect the people of Itaria and to try and keep the trade routes open."

"What's it like out there, Sir?" a sergeant asked cheerfully.

"It's a bloody mess, Sergeant," Curtis replied darkly. "The Zion have superior numbers, and apparently they're being aided and hidden by people in the coastal towns. The majority of our men there are Republicans, and they're not used to the sort of commando-guerrilla monkey show that the Zion are running. But you boys ought to fix that."

As the briefing went on, Ryan listened with only half his attention. A single thought ran through his mind.

Grandpa, he thought exultantly, this is it! I'm going to serve with the CSF, and I'm going to keep the peace, not just invade another country! Just as you did. Grandpa – can you see me now?

xxx

To understand why Ryan and his friends were being mobilized, we must turn the clock back a few days…

"We should be reaching Itaria in less than six hours, Stein," Rear Admiral Suleiman observed, consulting his instruments. "From what I've heard, the Zion are taking no prisoners."

"What excuse do they give for this disgraceful conduct?" Stein said angrily. "Good Lord, it's hard to tell who's the aggressor here – they are behaving as badly as the Varald!"

"Radio Caledonia claims that a group of Itarians attacked Zion sailors who had docked near the city of Lucida," Suleiman said, with no great conviction. "Apparently they retaliated in self-defense, but more Itarians poured out and began to use guns."

"Lies," Stein growled – though an Old Republican himself, his wife was a Church member, and he had little patience for anyone who upset her. "Itarians and guns? Next they'll be telling me that Arlbert has sworn a vow of celibacy."

"At any rate, the Zion ships claimed they fired two volleys in self-defence – one of which conveniently destroyed the Church of the Five Angels at Lucida," Suleiman continued. "That got the Itarians wild – there is a limit even to pacifism – and a militia from the town, brandishing old swords and other paraphernalia, engaged in two tussles with the Zion troops. At the end of it all, fifty Itarians and two Zion soldiers were dead, and the Zion accused the Itarians of violating the terms of the Concordat of Johan. The first of forces arrived soon and were deployed immediately, but the Zion are holding them off."

"I may not be an Intelligence agent, Suleiman," Stein retorted, "but I know a cheap trick when I see one. What is wrong with those blasted Zionese?"

"Admiral!" The voice behind the two men was urgent. "A fleet of Zion ships is approaching us rapidly from behind!"

"What?" Suleiman exclaimed. Turning around and looking into his telescope, he saw that the lookout's words were chillingly true.

"What do you think they want with us?" Stein said, the bluster gone from his voice.

"I don't know, Stein," Suleiman said, looking resolutely at the approaching fleet of five ships. "Ensign, send instructions to the other two ships with us, asking them to be ready for action. Do not break from our trajectory, but keep making for the Coast of Saint Valentius."

The necessary instructions were soon given, but the Zion ships were gaining on them rapidly.

"Sir, they're – they're too fast!" the chief engineer called out, as Suleiman stood at the helm, trying to steer a course between the approaching vessels and the rocks that ringed the continent of Itaria. "We're at maximum speed, and we can't outdistance them!"

"Prepare for combat, then," Stein said hoarsely. The cannon were loaded, when suddenly, the sky was lit up by an eerie orange glow.

"They've opened fire, Sir!" the lookout called out frantically. A shell struck one of the other Commonwealth ships, and its hull began to burn.

"Damn!" Suleiman said, between clenched teeth. "Return fire, gunners!"

Four shots rang out, and one of the Zion ships, thrown off course, struck a rock and began to flounder.

"Got them!" Stein said with satisfaction. "Another round, now! Prepare the lifeboats for any eventuality."

There was a deafening explosion, and Suleiman's ship began to pitch and sway.

"Sir, we've been hit below the waterline!" a voice called out desperately from beneath the decks.

"Impossible," Suleiman gasped. "They can't hit us at this range…."

Then the second blow struck, and the ship began to take in water.

"Damn it, sir," the lookout cried out, "they're attacking us with an underwater vessel!"

"Bloody Zion!" Suleiman swore. "Men, continue firing until we reach that rock over there – the Rock of the Pontiffs. Once you are there, abandon ship."

The next few minutes were chaos and confusion. Another of the Zion ships was hit and struck the rocks, but the submarine vessel sank the third of the Commonwealth ships, and as Suleiman's flagship drew near the Rock, it was clear that its days were numbered.

"Abandon ship!" Suleiman ordered. "No panic, to the lifeboats, and make for the coast!"

And after what seemed like scarcely a moment, he and his men – as well as Stein's – were rowing frantically for the shore, looking back at the smouldering wreckage of the ship they had just left…

xxx

"Sorry, ma'am," the Naval guard said apologetically. "We've received word of criminal elements lurking around the docks, and Mayor Saunders has suspended all ferries to Mann Island for the time being. You could hire a private boat, but even they probably wouldn't risk it."

"Dear me," Emily said, wishing she could use a stronger phrase. "Is there no other way to get to the island?"

"Trouble, Miss?"

Emily and Lavie turned around to face Lieutenant Reckland, who was in uniform. "Hi, Lieutenant!" Lavie said, brightening a little. "We need to get to Mann Island to see my Gran, who's not well…Can you help us?"

"Mrs. Lancaster's not well?" a second voice broke in, alarmed, and Lavie – who recognized it instantly – turned a deep shade of red. "Lavie, what's going on?"

"Hi, Ryan," she said, looking down at the cobblestones. "Well, Gran hasn't been well for a while…Mom and I just wanted to see her. We – won't be staying here too long, Ryan."

"I know, I read about it in the papers," Ryan said sympathetically. "I'd been following the case. I'm – sorry about your dad, Lavie."

"Er, thanks, I guess," Lavie replied. "So what are you doing here?"

"Shipping out with the Commonwealth to Itaria, to put down the Zion forces there," Ryan said, trying to keep the pride out of his voice. "The Lieutenant's just coming with me to pick up a few spare radio sets from Westchester. We're going down in his boat."

"You have a boat?" Lavie said, surprised.

"A youthful indiscretion," Reckland admitted. "I once capsized it as a teenager, and developed a mortal fear of drowning as a result – something that only years in the Royal Marines cured me of. I've now fitted it with a motor – a sailor like me can't afford to be out of touch with the sea, though he's stuck on land." He smiled.

"Say – would you like to, um, come with us?" Ryan said awkwardly. "The boat's big enough for four or five people, and if your Gran's ill, I wouldn't mind saying hello either."

"Would you, really?" Emily said gratefully. "That's very gallant of you, Ryan."

"Hey," Ryan replied with embarrassment, "it's the Lieutenant's boat, Mrs. Regale. Do you think we could, sir?"

"Of course," Reckland said, smiling at Lavie. "Hop on board, and I'll take you there in a few minutes!"

xxx

"What are you reading, Viola?" Henrik said curiously. They were in one of the Convent of Divine Love's Spartan dormitories, speaking in low tones - for Sister Miriam, their chaperone, was fast asleep. Henrik was sitting on the edge of his bunk, reading the last of his bedtime devotions from the Itarian Book of Prayer, while Viola was reclining on hers, engrossed in her book.

"The Bride of the Fulton Rains, by Jeanne Leighton," Viola replied, with a laugh. "It's a very manly story, Henrik. If you get bored, I can lend it to you."

"Do you actually enjoy things like that?" Henrik asked. "I'm asking without malice – I'm just trying to figure out what makes young women tick."

"I see you have the makings of a future psychologist," Viola replied with a wink. "Well, on one level, they're just fun, I guess! But on another, they deal with what Professor Parker would call archetypes – characters who look like caricatures, but who also tell us something basic about human nature."

"Hmm, that's interesting," Henrik said. "Such as princesses in distress, brave knights, rogues waiting to be reformed, and so on?"

"And tall, handsome strangers with dark beards," Viola said dreamily. "You seem well acquainted with the genre."

"Oh, blame that on my dad," Henrik joked. "He keeps complaining about how people buy romance novels, but can't spare a dollar for his depressing books. Maybe I should lecture him about archetypes the next time he goes off on one of his rants!"

"I actually like your dad's books, though I can't read them on a bad day," Viola replied. "They're tough and rather bitter, but sometimes life is like that."

"Did your dad also like reading?" Henrik asked gently.

"Oh, he did!" Viola closed her eyes. "He met Mummy at a library, actually. They were both trying to check out the same book. They actually fought a little over it, or so Daddy claimed."

"Aw, that's sweet," Henrik said. "So tell me, which particular tall, handsome, dark stranger do you have in mind?" He grinned.

Viola laughed. "Don't be so literal-minded, Henrik Spenson," she replied. "Though, to be honest, I did have a bit of a crush on Ivan, though it was hopeless – he was going to become a priest, after all!"

"God rest his soul," Henrik said soberly. "I guess we all have our ideals, until life knocks them out of us."

"Does it?" Viola replied. "I'd like to believe that we get to keep at least some of them. Like your religion, for example. Mummy would approve of you."

"Which of your ideals would you like to keep, Viola?" Henrik enquired.

Unfortunately for both of them, before she could answer this question, a man in monk's robes entered, carrying a book and a lantern.

"Good evening, my young friends," he said. He was middle-aged and study in appearance, with a tonsured head only partly covered by his loose hood. "We will leave early tomorrow morning for Issachar, so I would advise you to get a good night's sleep."

"Sure thing, Brother," Henrik said. "I was more or less done, anyway."

"I see that you enjoy a good story, Miss Benise," the monk said, looking at the cover of Viola's book – which depicted a young woman in flowing robes dancing in the midst of a thunderstorm – as if it was an interesting specimen in a zoology museum. "Perhaps you and your friend might enjoy this one." He held out the book he was carrying, and Viola took it.

"The Story of the Journeymen, by Aramondrius," Viola said, reading the title. "It looks like a very valuable book, Sir."

"Oh, don't call me sir," the monk said genially. "And yes, it is very valuable, but only those whose hearts are in the right place will appreciate its value. I trust you will find it profitable. Good night, my friends."

"Good night, Brother," Viola called out, as he turned off the lights, leaving them in darkness.

"Good night, Viola," Henrik whispered. "Good luck for tomorrow."

"Same to you, Henrik," she replied, with a sleepy smile, before falling into a deep and pleasant sleep, in which Ivan and Henrik were together engaged in a fierce battle to rescue the daughter of a Fulton chieftain.

xxx