109 Calay

After the storm winds finally chased the black clouds inland, heartened workers around the castle opened shutters and pried off the plank coverings that protected the delicate glass windows. Brisk salty wind blew in, as refreshing as laughter.

Anjine stared up at a patchy blue sky with the only glimmer of joy she had felt in some time. “Guard-Marshall Vorannen, escort me while I inspect my city. Let's see what this storm has done to us.” Once he had returned safely from his patrols during the height of the storm, Vorannen had given her full briefings of what he had seen, and Enifir insisted that he stay inside the shelter of the castle; Anjine had reaffirmed that with her own order.

And now they were ready to depart again, into the aftermath.

Old Prester-Marshall Rudio hurried down the hall. His wisps of gray hair were mussed and his clothes rumpled since he had not brought a change of garments for the four days he'd remained in the castle. “I would accompany you, my Queen, but first I must attend to the presters in my kirk.”

“We will be some time, Prester-Marshall. Meet us down at the harbor later this afternoon.”

Sen Leo na-Hadra followed her and Vorannen through the Royal District, across the bridge to the Military District where soldiers were already working to repair roofs and walls on barracks that had suffered great damage. Some buildings had collapsed, and grim people dug through the wreckage, pulling out bodies. Presters walked slowly through the streets, calling out verses from the Book of Aiden, offering comfort and sharing prayers. Animals wandered loose; many pens had been smashed. A barking dog raced by, chasing a pair of ducks. Neighbors compared damage to each other's houses.

At the Sonnen forges, Ammur and Vicka rallied their apprentices and journeymen to rebuild fences and shovel debris from the work areas. A young man stood precariously balanced on the roof of the main house, whose chimney had collapsed; covered in soot, he moved bricks out of the way, looking forlorn at the prospect of reassembling the chimney.

Queen Anjine paused, realizing that this was Mateo's home, now that he had married Vicka Sonnen. She had stayed at the smithy, managing business matters, while Mateo carried out his military duties… including the terrible duty Anjine had given him.

The big blacksmith saw her and bowed, looking flustered. Vicka gave a quick curtsey, without a second thought to her muddy dress or unkempt hair. “Majesty, do you have any word when Mateo will be back? We could certainly use his help around here after the storm.”

Anjine froze, realizing that Vicka didn't know about Mateo's orders. Mateo wouldn't have told her… no, he was too upset. This woman didn't know what her husband had done.

“I… expect the storm might have delayed his return. He has many responsibilities for the army.” Anjine looked at the woman and recognized the beauty and self-confidence Mateo saw in her. He would not have wanted a wilting flower who pined for him every hour he was away.

“I do miss him, but I know where his heart lies, Majesty.”

“You're his wife—his heart belongs to you.”

Vicka flushed, wiped a hand on her skirt, and pushed dark hair out of her eyes. “Yes, but he also loves his land and his queen. I get only part of his heart.”

And I get part of it as well. Instead of voicing her thought, Anjine said, “Tierra is lucky to have a man like Mateo to protect us against the vile Urecari.”

“True enough, Majesty. Even so, I could use his help rebuilding that chimney.” Anjine nodded to two of her soldiers, asked them to help with the work at the blacksmith shop; it was the least she could do, after sending Mateo—Vicka's husband—away. She let the woman get back to her tasks as she continued her procession to view the damage around the city.

In the Saedran District, families picked up debris, patched shattered windows, swept away muck that had spilled from flower boxes and vegetable gardens. Biento and Yura na-Curic stood before their small house, picking up shards of broken pottery. Their grandchildren ran about, chasing stray chickens. Sen Leo paused at the doorway to the Saedran temple. “By your leave, my Queen, I will see to my people, my wife, and my daughters now.”

“Your people are in good hands with you, Sen Leo.”

In the Butchers' District, the relentless rain had washed away the smell of offal and crowded livestock, but many of the pens had flooded; bloated animals lay covered in mud or sprawled in murky puddles. With a shudder, Anjine recalled the terrible mission she had given Mateo. She had known he would never refuse. He would have done anything for her—ah, but what she had asked him to do….

The procession wound around the bays and points of the large harbor. Anjine listened to the conversations, complaints, grieving, and expressions of relief. By now, the magnitude of the damage overwhelmed her, and she longed to go back to the castle, but she had obligations here. She needed to show the people their queen's concern for her city. She knew Calay could rebuild.

When she and her entourage reached the merchants' docks, the damage was the worst she had seen. Many piers were smashed, cargo barges and tall ships battered about like toys, some of them driven up onto the wharves. Crates and barrels floated loose in the water along with tangled nets, waterlogged sails, and a few scarecrowish bodies.

People in small boats rowed toward the headlands and the mouth of Calay harbor, where the water was gray-brown, filled with silt, seaweed, and debris. “I suppose the beachcombers will find great bounty,” Vorannen remarked.

Anjine nodded. “Who knows what the hurricane has stirred up from the bottom of the sea?”

Merchants picked their way across the precarious piers, using boathooks to snag drifting possessions, trying to recover scraps of their losses.

Out in the water, a man in a small dinghy let out a loud cry and flailed his oars. One of the oars was snatched out of his grip, and the boat rocked wildly back and forth, finally capsizing as the triangular head of a black-scaled sea serpent lifted itself high. The creature gave a shrill blast through its blowhole. The man clung to his capsized dinghy, cringing in terror as the black serpent swam past. Ripples of golden scales highlighted its ebony hide.

People began yelling up and down the docks. Ferrymen who had rowed merchants out to gather flotsam now struggled frantically back toward shore.

Farther out in the harbor, Anjine saw the head and neck of a second black-and-gold serpent rise in a cascade of water to hoot at its companion.

Aboard one of the intact tall ships, seamen who had been hanging fresh sails now dropped the wet canvas sheets and swung down from the yardarms to gather harpoons. Yelling, they threw the spears at the nearest monster. One iron-tipped harpoon struck the serpentine neck and pierced the scales, though not deeply. The monster roared and shook its head, knocking the harpoon free, then charged forward to smash the hull of the offending vessel.

Marshall Vorannen was already shouting orders. “Alert the city guard! Open the armories. We must defend Calay!”

Anjine watched in dismay as another pair of sea-serpent heads rose out of the water, and the four giant creatures moved deeper into the crowded harbor.