Chapter One

  Does Misery Amuse You?

  The river stank like sewage. Brown haze floated on the horizon above the far shore of the Yuna River. Two months on a clipper ship across the ocean from Vastrum to the port city of Bankut. Two weeks up the river by steamship to the province of Ayodh. They would be there by evening if all went well. The Bloody 13th had been briefly stationed in Kathalamanyr. While Dryden had been on leave, the regiment had been repositioned just outside the great city of Kanmak in the province of Ayodh, a province deep in the southeast of those colonies held by Vastrum. It was further east than Dryden had ever served. Now, he was sitting in a sun chair lounging on deck while the steamship Jessamine chugged away beneath him. Julia was seated beside him in a similar deck chair. He was reading an old newspaper, which had been taken on at the last river port they had stopped at. Julia looked petulant and bored. She often looked that way of late. He supposed it mainly was the boredom of a long trip. Her red hair caught the sun, her slender face outlined by the morning light, and for a moment, he forgot their last fight.

  They had been married at his family’s estate in Marrowick. Dryden’s lord father disapproved but was deeply unwell and had not been in any condition to forbid him from marriage. His older brother James was acting head of the family and estate. He had always had a soft spot for John and had assented when Dryden had broached the subject of marrying Julia. The local priest had married them in the family’s tiny chapel. Few had attended. It was not considered a good match by the gentry. Julia had no family to attend, and John’s family, except for his brother, refused to attend in protest. There was nothing wrong with Julia except her lack of good breeding, connections, and wealth. Dryden’s aunt had given these issues a voice. The concerns that had not been voiced, at least not in Dryden or Julia’s presence, were her captivity and treatment at the hands of the Vuruni men. Still, this matter hung over the wedding like a heavy vapour. The service itself was a small, sad affair. John expected that Julia was more than a little disappointed in the wedding, but there was nothing more to be done. If anything, he felt, she was lucky that a gentleman of good breeding such as himself had been willing to offer his hand in marriage. That argument had not gone over well in a previous fight. For all his heroism and prowess as a soldier, John was lost when it came to Julia, and he deemed women's minds confounding.

  John tried a different tack, “Ahh, look here, Julia. Apparently, the king himself is visiting the colonies.” He pointed to an article in the weeks-old paper.

  “Truly?” she asked, her tone uninterested. “I wonder what he sees in them.” She had not wanted to leave Vastrum. He wondered that she had apparently thought they would marry and settle down in his family’s estate in Marrowick. He had repeatedly told her that he still had several years of service remaining and could not simply resign his commission without cause. He supposed he could understand that this was not where she wanted to be, not after her months-long captivity in Vurun. Still, he hoped she could understand that he needed to serve his commission and that, as an officer’s wife, she was expected to live with him at his posting.

  “Look!” He said, pointing to the edge of the river. An enormous crocodile was sunning itself on the sandy banks.

  “Oh.” She replied, “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to the cabin. I’m hot. Perhaps you can make friends with him.” She said, gesturing to the scaly reptile.

  Dryden pursed his lips. Julia was in a worse mood than usual. “You’ll take luncheon with me in the dining room later, won’t you?”

  “Very well.” She answered as if it were a bother. Then she turned, walked back towards the stairs that led down to the first-class cabins, and disappeared into the ship's interior.

  A few moments later, a man’s voice piped up from a few chairs up the deck, “Trouble with women, eh?” When Dryden did not immediately respond, he continued, “Pardon the intrusion. No offence was intended. I couldn’t help but overhear.”

  “Indeed, sir. I’m sure the whole ship has heard us. Apologies for the disturbance.” Dryden looked over at the man.

  The man who had spoken was older, perhaps in his fifties. He wore a white suit and sported a gleaming white pith helmet. He had a well-trimmed short beard that came to a point. He smiled disarmingly at Dryden. The man’s blue eyes seemed to bore into his. John felt he recognised the man somewhat and had seen him in the dining hall and upon the ship's deck during the two-week voyage, but they had not been introduced or spoken.

  “George Sterling, at your service.” He beamed at Dryden and extended his hand.

  “John Dryden.” He took the man’s hand and shook it. He had a firm grip.

  “I know who you are. I believe the whole ship knows who you are.” The man said, “A war hero and proper celebrity.”

  “So they tell me.” Dryden replied, “What brings you to Ayodh?”

  “I enjoy hunting. I have heard that no colony has richer hunting grounds than the hills in the north of Ayodh. Know you the region?”

  “I’m afraid not. This is my first time in this country, though I have heard the same. I hope to find the time for a hunt, though I find the service keeps me busy.”

  “You cannot be spared for a few moments?” George asked.

  Dryden chuckled, “Duty often calls.”

  “I understand,” George said smilingly. “Duty had a strong pull on me when I was young. Would you allow me to give you a small piece of marital advice, John?”

  Dryden looked at the man, wondering what gave him the right to be so familiar. He wanted so badly to say no, to tell the man to leave him alone; he was in no mood for advice. His sense of decorum and good manners obliged him to nod in assent.

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  “It is a long road, marriage. You cannot always be happy, and it is not a failing of the marriage to be unhappy at times. You have a duty now, not only to king and country but to your wife. You may find no time for hunting but do not neglect this new duty you hold. Cleave to it as you do your duty as a soldier, and you may find happiness one day.”

  Dryden was silent for a time. He did not know what to say.

  The man filled the silence, “Are you surprised that I do not speak of love?”

  “I suppose I am.”

  “Love is good where you find it. Love can take much time to blossom. Many a man of Vastrum has been married for one reason or another without love but found love in time. Patience is a virtue.”

  “What of those who never find love?” Dryden asked, surprising himself. The curse that Aisa had spoken at Dau still haunted the dark recesses of his thoughts.

  “Let us hope for kinder fates, eh? I would bid you a fine afternoon. It was a pleasure meeting you.” George stood and went to leave, “Perhaps I will see you again in Ayodh, John.”

  “Perhaps. The pleasure was all mine.” Dryden answered though he did not think they would likely see one another. The man did not seem the soldierly type, and he expected all his days in Ayodh to be spent preparing for the next war. There was always another war.

  “Chin-chin,” George said as he turned and walked off down the deck as if he hadn’t a care in all the world. Dryden found it strange when another man dressed in black standing off looking over the railing of the steamship went to follow George, shadowing him as he strode confidently toward the ship's bow.

  Dryden lounged about the deck until lunch, taking in the sights that lazily floated by: a steamship bound downstream, smoke billowing behind it, long wooden canoes loaded with goods, a fisherman on a small boat that was no more than a bamboo raft, an alligator basking in the sun on the shore, a river dolphin splashing in the murky waters. Finally, near lunch, as the boat came around a wide bend in the river, he saw the city of Kanmak for the first time. Gleaming white and red stone buildings lined the river, sporting a multitude of small towers and onion-shaped domes. Flags waved in the breeze above a great crenellated fort. Stands of palm trees leaned lazily around the grand buildings. Dryden knew from looking at maps, which he often did, that the harbour was north of the central city, and they would pass by the sprawling city for an hour or more before they arrived at the port itself. He noted numerous small boats ferrying people and goods across the muddy waters, for there were no bridges across the Yuna for a hundred miles. The first bridge at Kanmak was being built, as evidenced by work crews constructing a great stone foundation on the far shore. After watching the city approach for a few minutes, he sat for lunch in the posh first-class dining room. He sat waiting, hoping Julia would join him for lunch as promised. A waiter came by. The man wore a crisp white and black suit made of brocaded silk and a neat turban.

  “Sahib, would you care for refreshment?” He asked, bobbing his head in the manner that was common in Ayodh.

  “Yes. A gin and tonic, if you please.”

  “And for lunch?” The man asked.

  “The rest of the bottle.” He said flippantly.

  The man was taken aback, unsure if he was serious or joking. The waiter stood there, looking as if he was trying to clarify but struggling to find a tactful way to ask.

  “I’m only joking about the bottle.” Dryden preempted him and flashed his best disarming smile, “Just bring some sandwiches. Oh, and a flute of sparkling white in case my wife joins me.”

  “Cigar?” The man offered.

  “No, not today. Thank you.”

  “Very good, sahib.” The waiter replied with a genuine smile, and then he disappeared into the ship’s galley. He returned a minute later with the drinks and a plate piled high with various small tea sandwiches. The man served them with a small bow and bob of his head.

  Dryden waved him off to dismiss him. Only then did Julia finally arrive. She sat in a huff, looking at him angrily. She picked up her flute of sparkling wine and sipped at it.

  “The city is very charming to look at.” He said.

  “I suppose so.” She said, taking another sip.

  “There will be much to explore in this new place. I hope we can do so together.”

  She raised an eyebrow at that. She did not yell or chastise him for the suggestion. It was perhaps a step in the right direction, though she did not answer him.

  He spoke quietly, “I know this soldier’s life is not the life you want. My years of service will end one day. When they do, I hope we can return to Marrowick, settle down, and live more at ease.”

  “Promise you will not leave me alone in this foreign land, John.”

  Dryden frowned. He remembered that horrible moment when they had given up their civilians, their women and children and camp followers to their enemy to be prisoners. He remembered how she had slapped him and chastised them. It was the last time she had seen her own father, Colonel Marcus Gorst. He and the Vastrum army had rescued her many months later. Months of captivity. She had every right to be bitter. She had every right to ask that of him. But he could not promise it.

  “War makes no promises, Julia.”

  In one gulp, she emptied her wine flute, “I’m not asking war to make me promises, John. I’m asking you.”

  “I am an officer in the King’s Own 13th Dragoons. I have my duty, Julia, to my king and country. There will be another war; there is always another. I will be deployed and sent away to fight. It is the way of soldiers and armies. I cannot decide where or when to go. Furthermore, I cannot bring you with me; war is no place for wives and women.”

  “And yet you soldiers so often bring it to us!” She raised her voice, causing other diners to look their way.

  “What would you have me do, Julia?” He hissed, trying to keep his tone down and avoid causing a scene. The situation was slipping away from him. He knew what her answer would likely be. She had demanded it often enough: resign his commission.

  Yet she did not say it. She looked about at all the other passengers who were surreptitiously glancing their way, “Does this amuse you?” She asked, “Is the misery of others entertaining? Do you think yourselves the better of me?” Her tone was haughty.

  “Julia, please.” Nothing was worse to Dryden than causing a scene.

  She pursed her lips and turned back to the table, taking a deep breath. “I’m not a monster, John. I only want what is reasonable.”

  “If I could give it to you without compromising myself, I would, without hesitation, but I have a duty to attend, one that I made well before we had even met, let alone married. Let me attend it. When it is done, we can settle down in Marrowick. We can have little ones running about, attend garden parties, and have my brother’s family over for tea. We can attend the symphony and opera, eat at the finest restaurants, and do whatever you want. But first, I must do my duty.”

  “Fine.” She said finally. It was the first time in all their fights that she had said anything of the sort. “I will hold you to it, John.” Only then did she take a small slice of sandwich from the plate and eat a bite.

  The ship docked an hour later. They walked down the gangplank and out into the city. Dryden found a familiar face waiting for them. Mar stood, his normally grim face cracking a smile when he saw them. His pale, gaunt face was sporting an eye patch, but his good eye twinkled gold in the afternoon sun. He looked slightly hale than when Dryden had seen him last. He extended a hand, and they shook.

  “Welcome to Ayodh, John. Julia, may I say that you are as radiant as ever.” Mar smiled, bowed to Julia, and kissed her hand.

  Dryden grinned back at the regimental wizard. It was good to see a friendly face first thing off the boat.