The Silver Lake by Fiona Patton Page B

could sense his master’s thoughts, leaping down to stuff his head under his hand as he came out of trance, and Kemal ruffled the dog’s huge, flopping ears with a smile.
    “Who knows why, eh?” he asked him fondly. “Come on, it’s time for breakfast.”

    The huge main refectory wing was filled to bursting when they arrived. Estavia’s warriors numbered nearly ten thousand at full strength, and although most were stationed at the nine village towers around Gol-Beyaz or at Anavatan’s many gates, there were usually upward of seven or eight hundred people taking meals at Estavia-Sarayi at any given time. The kitchens, staffed by dozens of Oristo’s stewards, were enormous.
    Lining up before the long, central table, Kemal tossed Jaq a slab of tripe before helping himself to a piece of flat bread liberally spread with quince jam, a slice of sheep’s cheese, and a handful of dried figs. Weaving his way through the crowds to the blue-and-gold-tiled Cyan dining hall, he glanced around for Yashar but didn’t see him. Kaptin Julide, however, saw Kemal, and pointed at an empty cushion across from her.
    “Good morning, Ghazi.”
    He took the seat with a resigned expression. “Kaptin.”
    “Tea?”
    “Thank you.”
    “Bazmin, tea.” She gestured and her delinkos caught up the large, silver urn from the center of the low table and poured Kemal a cup. Allowing him to take a single sip, she then caught him in a firm stare.
    “You’re to attend Assembly this morning.”
    He sighed. “Yes, Kaptin.”
    “There shouldn’t be much more than damage reports from across the city; Lazim-Hisar reports no signal from the lake towers, the walls are secure, and the city garrisons survived the night intact, so you’ll have no more to say than anyone else. You should be out of there in less than an hour.”
    “No movement from the north, Kaptin?”
    “The northern watchtowers report the strait’s empty of all movement—friend, foe, and fish alike. Which makes sense on Havo’s First Morning. We’ll know more about the smaller harbors when we hear from the coastal garrison later today, but it would take some pretty powerful magics to sail across the northern sea during Havo’s Dance. These first spring storms are always the worst once they push past the strait into open water. Relax and enjoy the boredom for a few more days, Ghazi. Cyan Company is being deployed south to Anahtar-Hisar next week, and there’ll be plenty there to keep you occupied.”
    “Yes, Kaptin.” Draining his cup, Kemal picked up his bread and jam with a distracted frown. Last season they’d driven several suspicious-acting ships away from the Bogazi-Isik Strait to the north—Estavia’s naval kaptins had been certain they were scout ships. Betting was three to one in the temple that the northern powers of Rostov and Volinsk were taking an interest in Anavatan and its profitable hold on the southern route through the walled-off and guarded silvery Gol-Beyaz Lake once again, but Elif and the temple-seers disagreed; Rostov and Volinsk had been at war for over two decades and showed no signs of mending their earlier alliance. The towers of Anahtar, Kapi and Kenor-Hisar, however, had reported increased activity on the Deniz-Hadi Sea to the south, and their traditional trading partners and sometime allies of Thasos and Ithos Islands had been distinctively nervous all winter. If a new power were rising to the south, they had to be ready to meet it. The bulk of the Battle God’s fighting companies would be stationed at the southernmost towers this season especially since their ancient enemies, the Yuruk nomads of the Berbat-Dunya wild lands to the north-west and the Petchan hill fighters of the Gurney-Dag Mountains to the southwest, had been defeated so thoroughly in the last decade that they were now at a fraction of their earlier numbers. But, like most of the rank and file drawn from the western villages, Kemal believed they were making a mistake in