Tenebroum

Chapter 159: Uneasy Silence

Chapter 159: Uneasy Silence

At first, the denizens of the port sought simply to ignore the dark fleet that had anchored in such a way as to choke off most of the harbor’s approach. A few brave merchant ships rowed by during the day, but by night, they lost their nerve and hid in the port, hoping for one more night of safety.

The Voice of Reason would have let them go, of course. Killing merchants and sinking their fine ships in sight of the city would have been exactly the wrong thing to do, to prepare for all that was coming next.

Twice, a small formation of ships rigged for war formed up in the harbor, preparing to sail on the Voice’s fleet. Whether that was because they planned to fight or because their pride demanded that they show they were, she couldn’t say. The spirits of the sailors they’d fished from the wreckage of their last battle largely agreed that the ships were waiting for the return of the fleet she’d already burned and that they would strike once they sighted those white sales on the horizon.

It would have been a classic pincer maneuver. It would probably have been quite effective, even. Sadly, they were out of allies and the fearful men would have to treat with her directly, or continue to cower behind the beautiful walls of their fragile city until she finally lost patience with them.

Given enough nights to study the place, she didn’t need her master’s Dark Paragon to tell her that it would have been much easier to conquer this place than Constantinal or Rahkin. She might have enough death knights and other constructs to march right up through the harbor and sack the palace in a night or two.

That would have defeated the point, though, she thought crossly to herself while she admired the distant lights that flickered off the glittering waves. The Lich had endless numbers of servants that could conquer, but only one that could do it without swords, and she needed to show her worth in that regard.

It took almost two weeks for the powers of Tanda to cease their bickering and send forth an envoy. His dhow was an ornate pleasure craft, which made it quite showy, but it was a flat-decked vessel that left nowhere to hide unwelcome surprises.

She approved. It was a sensible choice intended not to provoke her further while still offering a glimpse of the wealth and status of this place.

Thanks to the wraiths that circled the waters like so many gulls, she knew what she would see long before the fragile boat reached her flagship. Onboard the Mysterious Ways was a single, plump eunuch who only just barely managed not to tremble as he stood there between his eight rowers, reeking of fear.

The voice stood there as the boat pulled slowly alongside of hers, and then as he began to shout his entries as to parlay, she walked toward the bow of her ship, tracing the rails lightly as she studied the little man and his strange accent.

He tried three different languages before the figurehead on the bow of her vessel began to unfurl and extend. The Voice wasn’t concerned. She knew every language her Master did, and she was sure that any that she did not already know would come to her quickly.

The figurehead had been a beautiful maiden made of ivory holding a harp, but as soon as the Voice approached her, she extended into her true form, becoming a bony Llamaia that slithered almost completely free of her bonds, becoming a delicate stairway that curved around toward the aft of the dhow.

Though she could be unleashed completely and made into a killing machine, that was not the main purpose of the figurehead. It was to provide an easy way for the Voice to board and disembark the vessel. After all, she was far too heavy to float, and if she were to fall into the water, there would be nothing to catch her until she reached the abyssal sands hundreds of feet below.

Though she could presumably walk until she reached the shore again, she didn’t like to think of what such a fate would do to her fine dress or carefully tanned skin. The odds of staying unmolested by the things that dwelled down there long enough to reach land weren’t good, and she had not been built to fight them. Evidently, the Lich had similar fears, for it had given her this guardian to prevent exactly that fate, and graceful Llamia did an excellent job.

Even though both ships bobbed up and down in the surf out of sync with each other, the Voice never felt it. Instead, each bony stair beneath her moved ever so slightly to cancel out all the motion, making her the only part of the entire tableau that was even capable of stillness as she walked down the path with her stiff, prideful gate.

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The screams started before she reached the dhow, but she knew that they weren’t because of her. None of the rowers who were trying their very best to fling themselves into the sea were attempting to escape the beautiful woman in black who was strolling down her own private staircase made of serpentine vertebra; instead, they were doing all they they could to escape her loyal llama.

They couldn’t, though. They were chained to their rowing benches, and in the end, all they could do was find something to defend themselves.

When the voice stepped onto the deck, she curtsied slightly in her long black dress. She only walked three steps forward before the first fearful slave attempted to strike out at her. Fortunately, his master was faster with his whip, and before the terrified rower could strike a second time, the chubby little eunuch was already waddling toward her.

“Mistress, please!” he said, struggling to maintain his composure as he moved himself between her and the rest of his crew. “One thousand pardons for this. I will have him flayed to within an inch of his life once we return to port. I am Harun Rok, a lowly functionary who serves the Sultan, and I have come here to ascertain who the great power behind such a fleet might be and what it is that they would want from the ivory port of Tanda.”

“This would be an acceptable apology,” she nodded, letting a moment of silence linger before she continued just to make the man sweat. “I am the Voice of Reason, and I come from the darkened lands to the south at the behest of my Master.”

“Your Master?” he asked hopefully, seeking to wheedle out more information, but the Voice ignored him.

“We thank you for your bravery, Harun Rok,” the Voice said with a cold smile, “But this is a conversation for your lord. You are here to work out the details for such things and nothing more.”

The man was so concerned with the snake woman that lingered just beneath her that he barely noticed the slight. Instead, he nodded blankly and agreed, “Yes, the arrangements, of course. When will you…”

“Midnight,” she said in a tone that was as much answer as it was command. “I shall journey to the palace tomorrow at midnight so that we may have an amicable discussion about all of this. Please go and deliver this message to your lord so that he may expect my arrival.”

The man had obviously expected a longer audience or even negotiations, but as soon as the exchange was complete, the Voice was turning away and returning to her ship. There was nothing to be gained by further discussions with someone who had no power, not when the cost was mystery and intrigue. She would let poor master Rok return alone with nothing but a name and a time, and that would be enough to practically watch the whole of Tanda’s dense harbor, and white walls burst into flames of intrigue from here.

She watched the tiny dhow slink back the way it had come with its tail between its legs, and In the day that followed, she did little except choose a few appropriate gifts as tokens of her Master’s generosity. After some consideration, she chose a fist-sized pearl carved in the shape of an eye and a wind-up raven made of brass and bone that would flap its wings quite convincingly when the key was turned.

The latter had no magic, of course, which was just as well because the former was overflowing in enchantments. With the right level of focus from the Lich, it would be able to spy on half the city even if they tucked this thing away in the deepest treasury, which is what any sensible ruler would do. Still, it was a work of singular beauty, and the iridescent iris was arresting in its detail, so she was fairly certain that a ruler with this level of wealth and vanity would put it on display regardless of what his advisors had to say.

She wouldn’t have to wait long to find out, though. Less than 24 hours later, her ship, along with two more flanking it, moved slowly toward the vacant pier at the heart of Tanda’s harbor where her small company of only a few dozen disembarked. The voice no longer had her carriage, but even if she did, she wouldn’t have had any way of moving it from sea to land. Neither did she have any way of matching the ostentatious pomp of this foreign place, so she didn’t try.

Instead, she met the overwhelming wealth of their mosaics and silken banners with dread austerity as she mounted her palanquin and was carried into the city by four towering death knights. They were escorted by another three dozen that marched in perfect unison; it was an impressive showing of steel and precision, but that was not the reason that she’d chosen them for this occasion.

It wasn’t even because they were as merciless as they were deadly; It was because out of all the soldiers and monstrosities concealed below decks in the black fleet, these were the only ones that appeared to be human in a convincing way, and while she was in no way ashamed of her undeath or that of her minions, she had a better understanding of fear and panic after the events of Rahkin, and she would not let the reaction of the streets and those who dwelled among the gutters force the Sultan’s hand.

So, despite the growing crowds, she and her fearsome entourage marched in perfect silence from the harbor to the palace. There had been a welcoming party to greet them, headed by the same eunuch and a few other dignitaries, but her dismissive gaze had made her stance clear without a wasted word: I am not here for you.

That dismissive silence clung to the group as it made its way to the palace, and though the size and the volume of the onlookers increased as they went, even their exclamations were not enough to breach the metallic drum beat of dead footsteps that silenced everything as they went.