"Maxian." Galen's voice was cold and held a quelling edge. He matched angry glares with his brother. This time, Maxian did not relent or look away. Instead, Galen did. The Emperor sat down on the edge of the table, bone-deep exhaustion flooding back, stealing the last fragment of hope he'd clawed from the ruin of the Persian attack. "Listen. Today the Persian army made four full-scale assaults on the defenses of Alexandria. They did not stint themselves-I watched your Persian sorcerer rage for the better part of a day, trying to throw down the rampart and those towers-and they failed."
The Emperor opened his eyes, giving his brother a frank and appraising look. "You were not there. Our best guess is Aurelian managed to save a few thaumaturges from the wreck of Pelusium, and they are holding on, working only to defend, not to attack. The Persians were forced to strike directly into our fortifications, man-to-man, steel against steel. Our old Horse and his men held and made the Persians-and their Greek and Arab allies-pay dearly."
Maxian's tight, angry expression softened a little. "But…"
"Listen to me, just for a moment. Then you'll have your say." Galen paused, struggling to arrange his thoughts, to remember everything he held in play. His memory was beginning to fail, battered by too little sleep and too much to do.
The prince almost spoke, then gestured sharply for the Emperor to continue.
"The Persians are far from home," Galen managed to say, after two deep breaths. "Their numbers are limited and by our count, only half-again Aurelian's strength. But we hold a strong position. The harbor remains open, for they are loath to commit their fleet for fear of ours, so Alexandria will not starve. I have sent letters to the comes Alexandros in Constantinople. In another week, perhaps two, the remains of our fleet will be able to shift his army to Egypt. Then we will outnumber the Persians by two to one."
Maxian's eyes blazed. "I can be in Egypt in three days," he cried.
Galen did not respond and the prince flushed, stung by his brother's icy demeanor, then sat down again.
"When our fleet approaches the Nile mouth," the Emperor said in an even, steady voice, "the Persians will sortie to destroy them. On another day, I would gladly accept a sea battle-our fleet would be packed to the railings with legionaries-and victory would be likely. But on this day… We have been watching the battle closely and you should know the Persian sorcerer is no longer alone."
"I know," Maxian said sharply, "a dog-headed man fought beside him at Constantinople, though I thought it destroyed…"
Galen's lips twitched into a wintry smile. "The Jackal lives. There are two others, apparently equal in strength."
"Two more?" Maxian stared in surprise.
Galen nodded, rubbing the back of a knuckle against his eyebrows. He squeezed his left eye shut, trying to quell the tap-tap-tap chipping away at his concentration. "Yes. A man and a woman. Their faces are shadowed and indistinct, but we think they are Greeks." The Emperor shook his head, sighing. "The city of Palmyra had a great school and many learned sons and daughters. I wonder… no matter. No matter."
"There are four of them?" Maxian sounded ill. He sat down.
"Four." Galen's face was grim. "Can you defeat four sorcerers?"
"I… Perhaps." The prince swallowed, rubbing his temples. "How many Legion thaumaturges can accompany me?"
Galen did not answer for a moment. His eyes narrowed in calculation. "Tell me this, brother. Can you protect our fleet against them, if you stand one against four?"
"Of course-" Maxian paused, then turned his head to listen. His expression twisted into frustrated anger. "No, no, I cannot. Not if the Serpent engages my attention-then the others will savage our fleet. Each ship will require a thaumaturge aboard, to see to its defense."
"We account barely twenty Legion thaumaturges still in the West." Galen's voice was heavy.
"Only twenty?" Maxian's eyes widened in shock and a taint of despair crept into his voice.
"Twenty. Aurelian had a round dozen with him and they are dead or pressed to the limit in Alexandria. More died before Constantinople and Alexandros' Gothic Legion, for all his valor and their skill, accounts none among their number." Galen spread his hands. "The Eastern Empire's wizards are scattered, slain or fled. So… I have you, and these twenty."
"How many ships are in the fleet?" Maxian bit his thumb, staring into an unguessable distance.
"Two hundred, large and small, and they will be stretched to the limit to carry Alexandros' army."
The prince took on a pickled look, grinding his fist against his teeth. After a moment, he gave his brother a sick, exhausted look. "I can't protect so many. If these Persians can handle fire, they will wreck half the fleet, or more, before we can make harbor."
Galen nodded. "I thought as much." He essayed a smile, but knew the expression was no better than a death's head. "I am not a wizard, yet I can listen and learn and count as well as any man. This is not easy to say, but…" Then he stopped, grimacing at a bitter taste in his mouth. "We are outmatched for the moment. We need to buy time."
"Time for what?" Maxian's voice rose, frustrated and angry. "What difference will a week make, save the Persians may find a way into Alexandria and our brother and thousands of Roman soldiers will be dead?"
"Be quiet and listen!" Galen snapped back, his patience eroding. "I have been following the reports from your workshops in Florentia very closely. In three weeks, the first of your flying machines will be complete. In four, they will all be ready to fly." He raised a finger sharply. "When they are ready, you will take them to Egypt. The fleet will arrive at roughly the same time. With the long eyes of your iron drakes, we will be able to spy the Persian fleet long before they can see us-I hope to reinforce the city before the enemy can respond. And when he does…"
"I will be waiting, in the sky." Maxian's lips stretched in a feral grin. "Their fleet will be helpless against an attack from above."
"Even so," Galen said, showing a little of his own satisfaction. "The odds will shift in our favor, I think."
Maxian's exhaustion faded, bunching his fists eagerly. His spirits revived, then worry clouded his face again. "Four weeks…" He stared at the quiet, still telecast, then back at Galen. "What if our Horse can't hold the city that long? What then?"
Galen shook his head sadly. "He has to hold on, piglet. We don't have another option."
"That's not good enough!" Maxian's anger flared again. "Let me go! I can land Iron Pegasus on sand or sea and snatch him away if things go poorly."
"No," Galen said, stiffening. "He must stay. If he leaves, the defense will collapse. You saw those faces in the telecast-the men are weary, driven to the edge, but they believe in him-his confidence holds them together. Aurelian must stay in Alexandria until we can relieve him." A finger stabbed at the prince. "And you must make ready. You have to be in Florentia in three weeks to complete the sorcery binding the iron drakes. Without them, we've no chance to salvaging the situation in Egypt."
"But-"
"Are you ready to face this monster?" Galen's voice cracked like a whip, making Maxian flinch. The Emperor advanced on his younger brother, eyes glittering. "You'll only get one throw in this game, one toss, one set of bones rattling in the cup. The next time you face the Serpent, you must win."
Maxian snarled back, a guttural, unintelligible sound. He raised a hand, naked fury in the choppy motion. "I will be ready!" he shouted. "I am ready now!"
"I don't think you are," Galen barked in a cold, cutting voice. "Rested, yes. Focused, no! I've given you all the time I can, but your idle youth is now past. Now you must fight and win and there is no margin for failure!"