Fifty-Nine Her Majesty’s Commission

FIFTY-NINE

Her Majesty's Commission

SAMUEL

V ictory is not what we have achieved." Admiral Solace spoke to a table adorned by ornate silver coffee services, platters of victuals and more than one bottle of rum, which the company poured liberally into their coffee despite the early hour. The sun barely touched the swirled-glass windows of Fort Renown's admiral's chambers, and there was not a face in the room unmarred by wounds or sleeplessness.

It had been two days since the battle and the height of the Black Tide. My wounds ached and my body was still riddled with fatigue, not to mention the weight of the battle's aftermath—hundreds of bodies pulled from the water, survivors rescued from wrecks only to succumb to wounds, the haunted eyes of the residents of the Anchorage, and the reality that so, so many good men and women would simply never be found.

Enisca Alamay was among them.

There were some forty men and women present—nearly every high-ranking officer left in the Anchorage, aside from those overseeing the continued recovery efforts, those warding against the remainder of the Mereish Fleet in the west, and those too wounded to leave their beds.

Nearly everyone had noted my twin and I entering the room.

"Our losses were unconscionable. Obscene. And it means little that the Mereish took equal losses before their retreat—they have more to spare." Solace looked back to the company. "The most we can say is that we have not yet surrendered. If the Other had not spewed such quantities of beasts into our laps and distracted the Mereish, or our Stormsingers had not rallied… We would not be sitting here today."

Pride settled across my shoulders, though not at my own involvement. Mary had been a critical force among the Stormsingers, and it was her cyclones that had done the greatest damage to the enemy.

"And the wolves yet stalk the horizon," a grey-haired man added, his captain's hat cast boldly on the table.

Admiral Rosser surveyed his peers. "How many Mereish remain in our waters?"

"Eight, of those that broke through," a woman I did not know replied. She was stocky and looked too young for the captain's cuffs on her high-buttoned coat. Many other faces at the table did too, officers elevated in battle or in the wake of it as their superiors succumbed to injuries. "Two have already been captured. Just this morning I received word that another was stranded off Barrowman's Cay when the tide receded."

Mention of the Black Tide's waning made me glance towards the window, though little was visible of the Anchorage's sodden, debris-scattered islands. Beside me, Benedict stared at a bottle of rum, then picked up a pitcher of coffee instead and filled it, black, to the brim.

He took a long sip and met my gaze out of the corner of his eye, eyebrow cocked.

I held out my cup.

Admiral Rosser spoke up. "Mr. Poleye, Mr. Dusset, your vessels are fit for action?"

"Yes, sir," Mr. Poleye replied, nodding his dark-haired head.

Mr. Dusset, another young and unexpected promotion, murmured his affirmative.

"Reinforce Indomitable up north. No Mereish who broke into Aeadine waters will reach Tithe to claim safe harbor, do you understand?" Admiral Rosser said. "At all costs. We may not have won a resounding victory, but we are not defeated. The Anchorage is still ours. These waters are still ours. And we will show our strength."

Fists pounded on the table, and a few heartfelt mutters of "Hear, hear," rippled down the table.

"Yes, hear, hear," said a familiar voice. "However, there is another pressing matter that must be addressed."

Down the table, Captain Irving rose to his feet and surveyed Benedict and I with a hatred so direct I felt myself flag. His hair was grey as steel, fastened into a short braid. His narrow jaw was clean-shaven and his form trim, barely touched by age.

"Keep your tempers," Admiral Rosser said quietly to Ben and I. "He is unlikely to, and that will serve you well."

"While it is expected that uncommon allowances must be made in times of need," Captain Irving went on, "I see no reason why men of such ignoble character are present at this table. One is not even commissioned, the other awaiting trial for gross neglect of his former captaincy and the deaths of innumerable souls under his command."

"They are here because I invited them," Admiral Rosser replied, tossing down his napkin and leaning back in his chair, wrists clasped over his stomach. "Because, as you said, in times of great need uncommon allowances must be made. As you all know, Samuel Rosser proved himself invaluable during the battle. Benedict, though undoubtedly marked by his past, is still one of Her Majesty's officers and acquitted himself more than admirably. Together, these two men oversaw the taking or disabling of no less than five enemy ships."

Murmurs rippled down the table, though whether in surprise, disapproval or support, it was unclear.

I leveled my chin and waited.

"Mere actions—subject to myriad and no doubt venal motivations—cannot cleanse a sullied soul," Captain Irving countered. His voice was a fraction sharper now, his posture a little less composed. "Benedict Rosser is a man without honor. Samuel, whatever part he played in past events, was still complicit, whether in the orchestration of events or their concealment."

Several of the younger occupants of the table looked confused, and whispers began—explanations of and speculation upon the past Irving now referenced.

"Samuel had no part in what I did." Benedict's voice was as calm and cool as an autumn breeze.

"Your wife, Captain Irving, sent my brother dozens of solicitations," Ben continued. "He did not open them. I stole those letters. I stole his name and the affection your wife had for him—earned, I might add, through the common goodness and respect he extends to all. Yes, he did conceal the truth. Because my magecraft, my soul, was corrupted by the Black Tide Cult, and his silence ensured I was protected from the world. I had the opportunity to use my power to protect this nation, and I acquitted myself well, you must agree. Until the wreck, which my Sooth foresaw, and I took every action to prevent."

"For your own benefit," Irving snapped back.

Benedict shrugged. "Show me one person seated at this table who acts solely for the good of others. Even my brother cannot qualify, try as he might."

I nearly spoke up, but this was Benedict's moment. Benedict's reckoning.

Silence enshrouded the company. Solace was looking at Admiral Rosser with unspoken questions, and Captain Irving's face had begun to blotch with rage.

"For those still confused, I slept with Captain Irving's wife," Benedict informed the table. The silence fractured into murmurs and cries of indignation, which Solace shushed with a hand. Her eyes were curious now, but tight with warning.

Ben went on, "A young woman lonely and driven to seek comfort in me—in my brother—because of her husband's braggartly ways, his disregard for her and others, his gross and obvious favoritism, and his frequent, casual cruelty towards her inability to bear him a child. An inability, I might point out, that was rectified by a single night with me—"

"You bastard!" Captain Irving roared. "Silence yourself or I will have—"

Benedict continued, unruffled. "So perhaps, Captain, you might begin reconciliation with your wife by admitting your own faults in that matter. I understand that my daughter is healthy and whole, and I should think that you would consider her a gift."

Captain Irving's chair hit the floor with a clatter. Benedict and I both stood, facing our former mentor as the room looked on.

Irving stopped two paces away, his face scarlet with rage. "I have and will have nothing to do with your spawn . And you, the pair of you? I demand your blood."

"No." Admiral Solace also rose to her feet at the far end of the table. "Captain, your conduct is unbecoming. This incident, though unpleasant, is well in the past and, clearly, personal. If you cannot control yourself considering the threat our people face, I fear my confidence in you has been misplaced."

Captain Irving struggled to restrain himself. His feet still jerked compulsively forward, and I thought he might throw himself at Benedict and I. Instead, he stormed out of the room.

The door slammed with such ferocity, one of the youngest officers squeaked.

"Please, Rossers, sit," Solace said into the ensuing hush. "I intended to deal with you once the threat had passed, however… it seems this particular wound must be cauterized. Admiral Rosser, proceed."

Benedict and I slowly returned to our seats as our uncle presided.

"In light of recent revelations, Samuel Rosser, I am pleased to offer you a new commission in Her Majesty's Royal Navy," Admiral Rosser said. "And before accusations of favoritism arise, this was put forward by Admiral Solace and numerous others following the battle. Mr. Samuel Rosser, your ship and your crew are all welcome under Her Majesty's flag, if you so choose. Otherwise, another vessel will be appointed to you."

My ears began to ring. I stared at my uncle, then down the length of the table to Solace. Not every face between the Admiral of the South Fleet and I was friendly, but more than I anticipated.

Solace met my gaze. I saw no apology, but no hostility, either.

This woman had stolen Mary from me, and yet now she sat down the table with, to all appearances, no remorse. She spoke benevolently, calmly, with no regard for the violation she had orchestrated.

She offered me the boon I had desired for long, torturous years, and, by her expression, she expected my gratitude.

A new commission.

"Captain Benedict Rosser, your hearing will proceed as anticipated," Solace said. "But other concerns have been raised. Reports have been brought forward concerning other… questionable incidents during your career, all of which must be fairly investigated before your status can be decided."

I could well imagine what kind of incidents those might be.

"Your admission that your magecraft was corrupted by the Black Tide Cult will join these matters… though perhaps it also explains many of them," Admiral Solace added. Her gaze swept to me, knowledge there. "A corrupted Sooth or a Stormsinger is one matter, but a Magni, as we all well know, is another. None of us have forgotten Silvanus Lirr."

Benedict stiffened. I seized his hand under the table. He tried to pull away, but I squeezed.

"We have been healed," I stated, speaking before he could. "During the height of the Black Tide, the cult's actions were rectified through methods we were able to learn during our time in Mere."

"Why was this not shared with your report? Upon your return?" Admiral Rosser asked.

"It was unfounded and undertested," I replied. "Little more than speculation."

"How was it accomplished?" someone else asked. "Such healing is impossible."

"It is not impossible with Mereish magics," Benedict said. "Surely no one at this table can deny their advances now."

"Mereish magecraft and practices are topics for another day." Solace raised her voice to override all others. "What remains is this: Samuel Rosser, you are officially welcomed back into Her Majesty's Royal Navy. Please give us your decision by the end of the day. Benedict Rosser, until such a time as a determination can be struck, you will have no ship."

In my grasp, Benedict's hand began to shake. I recognized the point he was reaching, the threshold where he would be unable to stop himself from acting, from breaking, from tearing.

But he did not topple over the edge.

"I understand," he said, his voice devoid of emotion once more. He pried his hand from mine. "Admiral."

Other voices spoke up, but my ears filled with a ringing, ominous hiss. The stiff back of the chair dug into my flesh as I sat, pinned to it.

"I cannot accept." My voice was drowned by the chatter down the table, but it was loud enough for those nearest me to hear. My uncle's sharp look and Benedict's inscrutable stare followed me as I rose and, giving the table a shallow bow, repeated myself into a recaptured silence, "I cannot accept the commission, not from an Admiralty who violated my Stormsinger's freedom and will continue to do so to her kind. I will not continue to fight a war with questionable roots. I will labor for what is good and right in this world, but I cannot do it with you."

Every word was a revelation. And as they left my lips, so did a weight lift from my back.

"I remain Aeadine and an ally, no matter whose colors I sail under," I added, locking my eyes on Solace's. "But if anyone comes after my Stormsinger again, they will discover what it means to be my enemy."

I turned to my uncle. "I trust that Hart 's prize money will be forthcoming? My crew will have their due."

Admiral Rosser sat frozen, coffee abandoned between limp fingers. He subtly cleared his throat, but he could not disguise the tightness in his voice as he grated out, "You will have your lawful share. Though it may take some time."

"Have it put in trust, accounts for each of my crew at Gawell's in Jurry. I have already submitted my assessment and statement of shares." I refastened the top button of my coat and nodded to Benedict, then strode out of the room.

"What did you just do?" my brother hissed as we reconvened in the hallway. Our footsteps echoed on the stone, barely dampened by thick carpets and row upon row of captured flags and complex tapestries.

"I made a choice," I said. I grinned thinly. "They took Mary. I cannot serve them."

"What of my situation? You do not protest that."

I shook my head. "Ben, you are capable and intelligent, and dangerous. You have done terrible things—as have many of them."

"So you agree with them?" He paused a breath, visibly trying to rein in his anger. "They will never give me a ship again, Samuel. I am no Sooth, but a fool could see that. I am being put off."

We descended a staircase, at the bottom of which we waited while a stream of soldiers passed by. I considered my brother from the corner of my eye, weighing how honest I could be. In many ways, his moods felt more unpredictable since his healing, and I had yet to assess his new boundaries.

"Your corruption was healed, but your actions remain," I said as we crossed the corridor and left the keep, circumnavigating a courtyard and heading for the main gate—down to the town, the docks, and Hart . "You may regret what you did, now that you can. But feelings mean little to the world. It requires action. Restitution."

Benedict stopped and faced me just outside of the gate, staring with such injury that I nearly regretted my words, though I held to the truth of them.

The sea wind buffeted us and, far out on the western horizon, the sails of lingering Mereish watchers stood out against a pale lavender sky.

"You believe I am incapable of doing that," Benedict accused.

I shook my head. "No. But you need time to heal first."

Benedict snorted. "So what do you propose I do? Take the airs in Caffith Sound?"

"Stay with me." I started walking, but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back. I elaborated: "Not as crew, just as yourself. Take time to reflect. Learn to make better choices, now that you can."

Disgust flooded his eyes. "Oh, and you will teach me to do that, will you? Saint, you are still a self-righteous ass. What will you do? Bless the world with your pomposity?"

"I do not know," I admitted, looking down towards the harbor and the distant shape of Hart . "But we cannot stay here, not with Irving on a warpath and the Navy's eyes on Mary. Not to mention the Ess Noti's shadow at our backs—I doubt they will relent so easily, and the Black Tide Cult is everywhere, as we have well seen."

Benedict let me go, and, slowly, his emotion retreated behind a cool mask. He started walking, hands shoved deep into his pockets. And though we walked the same road down to the harbor, I sensed he had another direction in mind.

"Ben?" I called, starting after him.

He made no reply.