A Burning Sea by Theodore Brun (snow like ashes series TXT) 📗

pulled away and her face was beaming. ‘And still you’re as beautiful as ever!’ As if that were the sum of the whole matter.

Lilla smiled, hiding her irritation. ‘As are you, dear Anna. Is your husband well?’ Not that she gave a damn.

The princess gave a sullen little pout. ‘How would I know? I never see him, he’s so busy.’

‘He’s an important man,’ said her father. ‘With important matters to attend to.’

‘Yes, yes.’ Anna rolled her eyes.

‘Didn’t I tell you to bring something warm, child?’

‘Oh, Father, you do fuss so. See, I can share Lilla’s cloak if it gets too cold. Can’t I, sister?’ Lilla found her exuberance hard to endure. But of course she agreed readily enough.

‘Where is your mother?’ asked Leo.

‘Oh, I meant to tell you – she’s feeling unwell. You know her, Father! Especially in her condition.’

The empress was carrying a child, expected later that year – but the sickness of her early pregnancy seemed to weigh hard on her. Lilla remembered the feeling. It was only a distant memory now. And a bitter one.

‘I’m sorry she’ll miss the spectacle.’ Leo turned again towards the sun now slanting from the west. ‘D’you see now, daughter, the angle at which the sun lies?’

‘Yes, Father.’

‘It means the time has come.’

‘For what, Father?’

He laid his hand against his daughter’s cheek and smiled. ‘To unleash chaos.’ Then he turned and cried out in a loud voice, ‘Ignite the beacon fires!’

The Bulgars were about to earn their gold.

‘I thought you could use a new belt,’ said Einar, tossing Erlan a long strip of leather.

‘Much obliged to you.’ He fastened the buckle, wincing as the leather squeezed the burns circling his waist. ‘Gerutha says I have you to thank for this banging headache, too.’

‘Well,’ drawled Einar, ‘what are friends for?’ He sniffed. ‘Anyhow, are you. . . all right?’

‘What do you think?’

‘Truth is, I don’t know what to think in this den of madmen any more. I’ve seen things I never thought possible in this place, but I grant you – nothing so queer as what came out of you.’

‘You and me both.’

‘But you’re. . . changed, like.’

‘I think so.’

The Fat-Belly pulled a face. ‘Well, if whatever magic that priest worked on you stops you spewing up purple any time someone gives you wine to drink, that’s got to be a good thing. Stank something bloody awful.’

‘Aye. Sorry about that.’

The two Northmen hurried down the hill towards the Prosphorion Harbour. Below them, the narrow neck of water that formed the Golden Horn was so crowded with ships a man could have walked from the south bank to the north without getting his feet wet.

Even so, only a few of the big beasts – the chelandions – were off their anchor. Most of the fleet manoeuvring close to the great chain that protected the mouth of the Horn were the smaller dromons, the attack ships, each one armed with a deadly fire-syphon mounted high in the bows.

‘Arbasdos should be marshalling the fleet from the Karabisianon,’ said Erlan. That was the naval headquarters that stood overlooking the harbour. ‘Don’t expect a warm welcome.’

‘You’re late, slave,’ barked Arbasdos when at length they climbed the stairs to the wooden balcony where the general and his retinue of spatharioi were gathered, among whom stood Davit, who gave them a grudging nod. ‘And your fat friend, too.’

‘Not heard that one before,’ Einar sighed in Norse.

‘Let’s be clear.’ Arbasdos prodded Erlan with the baton that marked his high office. ‘I indulge you only because the basíleus orders it. But understand this – I don’t need you. I don’t want you. And when this is over you can scuttle back to the palace where you cock-suckers in white belong.’

‘Friendly fella, ain’t he?’ muttered Einar.

‘Did I say you could speak, you sack of offal?’

Einar hefted his axe menacingly but held his tongue.

‘What’s past is past,’ said Erlan. ‘I have no quarrel with you. We have a common enemy now.’

‘Hah. If only life were so simple. Debts are debts, even in war.’ Arbasdos suddenly laughed. ‘No matter. For my part, at least, I consider myself amply repaid.’ Erlan figured he meant the gold Lilla had paid for his freedom. He never had got out of her what price he had fetched. ‘Just be sure not to get in my way,’ he added. ‘I have work to do.’

Dusk was growing thicker now. The flares at either end of the balcony burned brighter in the deepening dark. Arbasdos looked out over the harbour and spread his hands along the balustrade. ‘They say the Mother of God protects this city. That victory rests in her hands.’

‘Then let’s hope the old bitch is still awake,’ growled Einar.

The general turned and glared at the Fat-Belly. And then, all of a sudden, his face cracked into a smile. ‘Amen,’ he said, and threw back his head and laughed. ‘Amen. . .’

Lilla watched the last of the second fleet disappear around the point. A hazy blanket of darkness was settling over the straits and the distant hills of Asia.

‘Three hundred and sixty sails by my count,’ said Leo.

‘Where have they gone?’ asked Lilla.

‘There’s a bay beyond the headland. My guess is they’re there, unloading as fast as they can.’

‘Then what are you waiting for? Why don’t you release the fleet?’

He smiled at her. ‘Don’t you trust me?’

Lilla felt suddenly awkward, the way he was looking at her.

‘Listen.’ Anna’s voice broke the moment. ‘Can you hear it?’ She turned back to the city. ‘They’re singing.’ Sure enough, a chorus of voices came floating down from the galleries of the Great Church on the hill behind them.

‘Sad that men are dying while something so beautiful is going on.’ It was Gerutha who had spoken, her voice wistful. The emperor turned and looked at her. ‘Forgive me,’ she added, her gaze dropping demurely. ‘It’s not my place to say so.’

‘Sometimes men must die to preserve what is beautiful,’ the emperor replied.

‘Majesty, look!’ One of the guards was pointing excitedly across the straits. ‘Around