It’s not really fair, he thought as Owl projected schematics of Saram and Rhaigair Bay—and the exact position of every Dohlaran vessel in either of them—onto his contact lenses. It was like peering down over God’s own shoulder, and Raisahndo had about as much chance of eluding Sarmouth’s observation as he would have had hiding from the Archangels.
Assuming the Archangels had ever existed, that was. Which they hadn’t.
Unhappily for Admiral Raisahndo, the Imperial Charisian Navy—and Sir Dunkyn Yairley—did exist.
Well, maybe it isn’t fair … but it’s a damned poor excuse for a flag officer who worries about “fair” when it comes to keeping his people alive and making the other fellow’s people do the dying.
Truth be told, he wasn’t that eager for anyone to die, but he rather doubted Caitahno Raisahndo was going to meekly haul down his flag when he ran into the Imperial Charisian Navy at sea. Which could be very unfortunate for the Western Squadron, given the powerful reinforcements Tymythy Darys had delivered to Claw Island even before Zhaztro’s arrival. Unlike Sir Dunkyn Yairley, the officers and men of HMS Lightning, Seamount, and Floodtide were eager to kill as many of Raisahndo’s ships—and men—as they could. They especially wanted any of the ships which had been present in the Kaudzhu Narrows and taken their sister ship Dreadnought, but any unit of Raisahndo’s squadron would do in a pinch.
Well, they’ll get their chance, he thought grimly. I don’t suppose it’ll hurt my reputation for smelling my way to the enemy, either. For that matter, he snorted, I guess it shouldn’t. After all, I did figure out what Raisahndo was most likely to do even before he was kind enough to confirm it to the SNARCs. Fortunately, I’m far too modest a fellow to gloat at the doubters’ awestruck admiration of my strategic brilliance once it’s vindicated.
He chuckled and shook his head, then straightened and tucked his hands behind him. Under current wind conditions, Raisahndo could make a good perhaps seven knots—what would have been six knots, back on Old Earth—at which rate it would take him over forty hours to clear Basset Channel. That was on the direct route from Rhaigair, however, and it was very unlikely he’d take that route with Zhaztro loose inside the bay. No, he’d circle wide—heading east, hugging the north shore of the bay and hopefully disappearing from sight before Zhaztro came into range of Rhaigair. The Western Squadron was far slower than the ironclads, but Zhaztro’s smoke would be visible to a galleon’s masthead lookouts well before anyone aboard his own low-lying ships spotted its topsails. With only a little luck, Raisahndo should be able to successfully play hide-and-seek with the invaders … especially since Zhaztro had no interest in chasing him. Immediately, at least. The 2nd Ironclad Squadron would deal with the Western Squadron if it was unwise enough to enter its reach, but first things first. Hainz Zhaztro’s primary business was with Rhaigair, and unlike Sarmouth, he was unable to eavesdrop on Raisahndo’s intentions and movements. He was perfectly content to leave Sarmouth and his galleons to keep the Dohlaran force penned up inside the Bay while he got on with demolishing their base and its fortifications. If Raisahndo avoided action by turning back from the Gulf when he sighted Sarmouth, there’d be plenty of time for the ironclads to hunt him down then.
But assuming Sarmouth had properly assessed the Dohlaran’s choice of courses, eluding Zhaztro would add another fifty miles, easily, to his route. Which meant he’d present himself in the waters between Shyan Island and Shipworm Shoal about this same time day after tomorrow.
Just in time for lunch, he thought. I can work with that.
He clapped his hands together, breath steaming before it whipped away on the wind, and smiled a small, cold smile as he discovered he was just a bit less blasé about personally delivering a little retribution to the victors of the Kaudzhu Narrows than he’d realized.
.III.
HMS Eraystor, 22,
and
Battery St. Charlz,
Main Ship Channel,
Rhaigair Bay,
Province of Stene,
Harchgong Empire.
“Enter!”
The chart room door opened and a tallish young man with fair hair and gray eyes stepped through it.
“Second Lieutenant’s respects, Sir.” He touched his chest in salute to Sir Hainz Zhaztro. “Trident’s just signaled. She reports no sign of the enemy … except for a few columns of smoke that are probably from ships on fire.”
There was a pronounced edge of satisfaction in the last fourteen words, Admiral Zhaztro noted without surprise. Despite his coloration—inherited from his “imported” Siddarmarkian mother—Midshipman Paitryk Shawnysy was a native Old Charisian. His accent was straight from Tellesberg, but his attitude towards the Group of Four and all its works came from what had happened to his mother’s family when the Sword of Schueler struck the Republic.
“Thank you,” the admiral replied. “My compliments to Lieutenant Audhaimyr. And instruct him to relay a ‘Well done’ to Trident from me.”
“Aye, aye, Sir. Your compliments to Lieutenant Audhaimyr, and relay ‘Well done’ to Trident,” Shawnysy replied. Zhaztro nodded at the confirmation, and the midshipman saluted again and withdrew.
“Well, that’s disappointing, Sir,” Captain Cahnyrs observed as the door closed behind him. “I’ve been looking to something a tad more … energetic than that. I hate to miss a party I’ve been counting on.”
“‘A few’ columns of smoke hardly indicate Raisahndo’s burned his entire squadron just to evade us. And the fact that Trident didn’t see anyone doesn’t mean they aren’t there,” Zhaztro reminded his flag captain. “Her lookouts’ maximum range can’t be more than twenty miles, even assuming conditions are as clear for them as they are for us, and you know how patchy the weather can be this time of year. Even if she’s got brilliant sunlight and crystal blue skies, there’s plenty of room for them to be hiding from her somewhere deeper into the bay.”
“Of course there is.” Cahnyrs nodded. “But if I was Raisahndo and I thought the Imperial Charisian Navy was about to come calling, I’d have my warships up close enough to support my fortifications.”
“You might. Or you might think about it and decide it would be smarter to keep them as far out of those nasty Charisians’ range as you possibly could.”
“Either they’re going to stop us short of the city or they aren’t, Sir.” Cahnyrs shrugged. “If they aren’t, it doesn’t matter where their ships are. Sooner or later we’ll find them, and when we do, they’ll be dead meat. At the same time, we know they’ve been reinforced with some pretty powerful galleons. It’s at least possible those ships could make the difference as to whether or not we get past the shore batteries, and everything we know about Raisahndo suggests he’s the sort who’d recognize that.” The flag captain shook his head. “No, Sir. If he was still inside Rhaigair Bay, he’d be anchored on springs to support the batteries or at least hovering close enough to the channels to see if he’d be needed. And if he was that close Trident would’ve seen his mastheads. If she didn’t, he’s not there. Which means he’s gotten away from us.”