The River of Shadows Part 9

"Have you seen them?" she demanded.

"No," gasped Pazel, still winded from the stairs. "Who are they? I can't see any s.h.i.+p."

"There's no s.h.i.+p," said Fiffengurt. "That's why we were caught off-guard. d.a.m.nation, if those villagers betrayed us-"

They reached the tonnage hatch. As he had done many times, Pazel set a foot on the rail and leaped up to catch a mainmast forestay. With one hand on the wire-taut rope he leaned out over the yawning shaft, Ensyl clinging fiercely to his s.h.i.+rt. Now at last he could see over the crowd.

"But I still don't-"

His words died in his throat. He saw them: dlomu, hundreds strong, lining the sh.o.r.e road from the village to the Tower of Narybir. They were still coming, pouring through the gatehouse, leaping down from the wall, even pa.s.sing over the dunes about the tower's foot. Were they forming ranks, carrying weapons? The land was too distant for him to be sure.

"They look like Mr. Bolutu," said Ensyl. "Is it true what they're saying in the clan, Pazel-that those beings rule all the South, that there's no one else here at all?"

Pazel leaped to the deck again. He struggled to answer her as he raced to catch up with Fiffengurt, who had almost reached the forecastle. In normal times the commander gave his orders from the quarterdeck, but Fiffengurt was showing great deference to Captain Rose, who could still communicate by shouting through the window of the forecastle house.

Pazel went straight to that window himself. Alyash and a Besq mids.h.i.+pman were already standing before the dirty gla.s.s, yelling to the prisoners within. Framed between them, Captain Rose's huge, choleric, red-bearded form glared out at the deck. "Stand aside, Pathkendle!" he bellowed, his voice rattling the gla.s.s.

Pazel jumped back. On the captain's right stood Sandor Ott, a short man with the most savage face the tarboy had ever beheld. The spymaster's eyes moved ravenously, devouring information. One hand, mottled with age spots and knife-scars, the fingernails mangled decades ago by torture, lay flat upon the gla.s.s. Behind the two men the other hostages crowded, struggling for a glimpse of the deck.

There was Neeps! The Sollochi boy lit up at the sight of Pazel, and he flashed a tarboy signal (two fingers pinched to the thumb: Standing by to a.s.sist you Standing by to a.s.sist you) with an ironic grin that Pazel found almost miraculous. I'd be going mad in there. How's he managing to keep up his spirits? I'd be going mad in there. How's he managing to keep up his spirits?

There was no sign of Marila, and an instant later Neeps himself was shouldered aside. As he had many times before Pazel felt the ache of guilt. He had promised to get them out of there, weeks ago, but had made no progress at all.

The lookouts in the crosstrees were flinging down reports. "Warriors, Mr. Fiffengurt! Fish-eyes, every one, and armed to the teeth!"

Fiffengurt snapped open his telescope. "Conveyance!" he bellowed. "Where's their blary boat?"

"Not a boat to be seen, sir!" came the answer from the lookouts. "Not a launch, not a dinghy! They must have walked walked into that town!" into that town!"

Over the shouting Pazel caught Thasha's voice. She was there at the rail-with Fulbreech, to Pazel's undying irritation. They stood shoulder to shoulder, heads inches apart, taking turns with her father's telescope. Suddenly, as if he could feel Pazel's gaze, Fulbreech glanced over his shoulder. "Come and see, Pathkendle! Make room there, Thashula-"

He nudged Thasha over with a familiarity that almost drove Pazel mad. Thashula? Thashula? It was her childhood nickname, but Pazel had thought she hated it; she'd certainly never encouraged It was her childhood nickname, but Pazel had thought she hated it; she'd certainly never encouraged him- him- "Well, come on, man," said Fulbreech.

Pazel lurched forward and took the telescope, his face shouting Fool! Fool! in a banner of scarlet. in a banner of scarlet.

No question about it: the dlomu were warriors. They were tall and muscular, though slender like those in the village. All carried weapons-swords, hatchets, flails, glaives, crossbows, clubs-and a variety of other implements, from coiled rope to hammers and picks. They wore no armor, no s.h.i.+rts even, but many sported a kind of dark, round, tight-fitting cap. Some held standards aloft, a white bird against a field of deepest blue. A number of dlomu were inspecting the tower door.

"How did they get get there?" Thasha asked suddenly. "Do they have a camp in the woods? If so they stayed blary quiet yesterday." there?" Thasha asked suddenly. "Do they have a camp in the woods? If so they stayed blary quiet yesterday."

"They could have come from the north side," said Pazel.

"From the Nelluroq?" said Fulbreech, incredulous. "How? We sailed for five days along that string of dunes. There's no harbor, no other inlet-just beach after beach, pounded night and day by those lethal waves."

"They look blary lethal themselves," mused Fiffengurt. "However they got there, I'm glad there's three miles of water between us."

"Under three from the end of that jetty, sir," put in Mr. Fegin.

Pazel glanced at the long, smooth seawall jutting out into the gulf from one end of the village. A number of dlomu stood near its base. Like the others they were examining the Chathrand Chathrand with the keenest interest. with the keenest interest.

"That bunch by the gate must be the officers," said Thasha. "Look-they're sending messengers up and down the ranks. And they're pointing telescopes at us as well."

"Then they know this is a human s.h.i.+p," said Ensyl. "That would explain their curiosity."

"It's one one explanation," said Fiffengurt. "Mr. Brule, update the captain. Ah, listen! Your friends Refeg and Rer are on the job, Pathkendle." explanation," said Fiffengurt. "Mr. Brule, update the captain. Ah, listen! Your friends Refeg and Rer are on the job, Pathkendle."

A deep, slow click...click click...click, like a reluctant grandfather clock: it was the turning of the capstan, as the anchors rose heavily from the seabed. They were harrow anchors, Pazel knew: far lighter than the mammoth mains; still the men would be glad of the augrongs' help before the task was done.

"Good thinking," said Alyash. "They might wheel guns out of that village. Just as well we're through with it."

Thasha turned to him accusingly. "Ibjen lives in that village," she said. "His father's waiting for him."

"Ibjen should've mentioned the army camped out in the bush," countered Alyash. should've mentioned the army camped out in the bush," countered Alyash.

"Ten seconds between clicks," said Fiffengurt, "and we're at fourteen fathoms. Quickly, now: who's got the calculus for me?"

No tarboy had to ask what the calculus the calculus meant. Pazel focused instantly: meant. Pazel focused instantly: Ten seconds a click. Six clicks a minute. Four cable-feet Ten seconds a click. Six clicks a minute. Four cable-feet per click. Cable length twice the vertical depth per click. Cable length twice the vertical depth. "That's about...about-"

"Seven minutes," said Thasha, "before we could get under way. If we needed to."

"Admiral's daughter!" said Fulbreech with an approving grin. Absently he pa.s.sed the telescope to Pazel again, but his eyes remained on Thasha. "Doesn't she amaze you, Pathkendle?"

Pazel s.n.a.t.c.hed the telescope, calculating the time it would take Fulbreech to strike the water once Pazel pushed him over the rail. Two seconds, maybe. Then a faint voice reached them from the sh.o.r.e.

"Silence on deck!" shouted Fiffengurt.

The voice came from somewhere near the village gate. Pazel squinted and saw a man bellowing into an enormous, funnel-shaped sh.e.l.l, which he held before his face like a voice-trumpet. Try as he might, Pazel could not catch a word.

Then the soldiers parted, and a new figure walked out upon the quay.

He was a ma.s.sive dlomu, broad in neck and shoulder, and his walk was somehow cruel. The others did not approach him. Something about the man brought the armada itself to mind-something vile, Pazel thought. But whatever it was refused to surface in his memory. The man gestured at the crier, and the latter screamed into the sh.e.l.l-device once again.

"Pathkendle?" said Fiffengurt.

Pazel shook his head. "Sorry, sir, I can't hear a thing."

Fiffengurt turned to the mids.h.i.+pman. "Get some steerage pa.s.sengers up here on the run, Mr. Bravun-some who ain't been deafened by cannon fire." He twisted, pointing his good eye up at the Chathrand Chathrand's pennants. "Wind's on the port beam. We'd have to tack a sight closer closer to those gentlefolk before we could turn and run." to those gentlefolk before we could turn and run."

"We've no cause to run anywhere, till we decide a course," said Alyash.

"Drogues bow and stern, Mr. Coote, if you please," said Fiffengurt. "We're close enough without this drift."

Coote set men running, and in short order Pazel saw an umbrella-like drogue tossed from the forecastle on its chain. In calm waters the drogues would keep the Chathrand Chathrand almost at a standstill, but unlike the anchors they could be jettisoned, and built anew from wood and canvas. almost at a standstill, but unlike the anchors they could be jettisoned, and built anew from wood and canvas.

Mids.h.i.+pman Bravun returned with three steerage pa.s.sengers: a bearded Simjan man, the apple-cheeked Altymiran woman who had lately become Mr. Teggatz's galley a.s.sistant, and an older, white-haired woman whose husband had perished on the Ruling Sea. Fiffengurt silenced the chatter again. "Cup your ears and face forward, everybody," he said. "Let 'em see we're listening."

The signal worked: once again the dlomic crier shouted his imperative command. The steerage pa.s.sengers whispered together, debating what they'd heard. It was clever of Fiffengurt to call on them, Pazel thought: locked in their compartment below the waterline for most of the voyage, the steerage pa.s.sengers had been buffered from the noise of both battle and typhoon. It was about the only good luck they'd had since stepping aboard the Great s.h.i.+p.

"We ain't sure, Mr. Fiffengurt," said the bearded Simjan, "but he might might be talking about a putative." be talking about a putative."

Fiffengurt frowned. "Come again?"

"'Chin of the putative,'" said the Altymiran woman. "That's what he said, sir."

"Madam," said Fiffengurt, "putative ain't a thing, and don't take an article." ain't a thing, and don't take an article."

"Does that mean it can't have a chin?"

The white-haired woman merely clung to the rail and stared. When Pazel's turn with the scope came again, he held it up for Ensyl. The ixchel woman steadied it with both hands. "Focus, Pazel, good. That's strange: the leader is taking off his boots."

"Most of them are barefoot already," said Thasha. "They don't seem to care much for shoes."

The white-haired woman took a frightened step backward. "I think we should go," she said.

"They're shuffling equipment, too," said Ensyl. "Collecting s.h.i.+elds, and some of the weapons. But they're strapping other things across their backs. Lighter weapons, maybe, and-"

"Hus.h.!.+" said Alyash. "He's calling again!"

The s.h.i.+p held its breath. No use, thought Pazel: he could hear only the tone of anger in the distant voice. It was a bit disturbing to think that the Chathrand Chathrand had stolen part of his hearing forever. had stolen part of his hearing forever.

"I really really think we should be think we should be leaving, leaving," begged the old woman, pressing a frail hand to her mouth.

The Altymiran woman smiled. "Not chin chin. It's give give he's shouting. he's shouting. Give of the putative Give of the putative-that's the first bit, and then stubborn, stubborn- stubborn, stubborn-"

"Stubborn the consciousness," said the Simjan, looking at Mr. Fiffengurt for approval. Then his face turned pensive. "Actually, that doesn't mean a thing." said the Simjan, looking at Mr. Fiffengurt for approval. Then his face turned pensive. "Actually, that doesn't mean a thing."

"Get rid of these fools," said Alyash with an irate gesture. "Where's our dear Brother Bolutu? He should be helping us sort out this gibberish."

All at once there was turmoil at the village gate. More dlomic warriors were spilling out onto the road. But this time they were bringing villagers with them, at sword-point.

"There's Mr. Isul," said Thasha. "By the Tree, they're taking hostages! But what do they blary want want?"

Belowdecks, Refeg and Rer gave a final, satisfied roar. The capstans fell silent: the s.h.i.+p was floating free.

"Captain Fiffengurt," said the white-haired woman.

"I'm not the captain, my dear lady-"

"Give up the fugitive. That's what the creature said. Give him up or suffer the consequences. suffer the consequences."

Sailors and pa.s.sengers gaped at her. Then Alyash snapped his fingers. "The sfvantskor sfvantskors! Those lying b.a.s.t.a.r.ds tangled with the dlomu before you ever laid eyes on 'em, Fiffengurt! They must have killed a few."

"Nonsense!" said Pazel. "They told us their whole story, from the moment we sank the Jistrolloq Jistrolloq. The only dlomu they've seen were dead ones, on a s.h.i.+pwreck."

"And you believe them Black Rags?" said the mids.h.i.+pman.

Alyash turned and struck the man backhanded across the jaw. "That's for your swinish nicknames," he said. "I'd give it to you harder, Bravun, but you have a point. A for your swinish nicknames," he said. "I'd give it to you harder, Bravun, but you have a point. A sfvantskor sfvantskor will say anything to gain an advantage over a nonbeliever." will say anything to gain an advantage over a nonbeliever."3 "But their words rang true," Pazel insisted.

"Especially your sister's, eh?" said Alyash.

Pazel glared at him. Double agent Double agent, he thought. Or triple? How can anyone, even Ott, really know which side he's on? Or triple? How can anyone, even Ott, really know which side he's on?

Fiffengurt rapped his knuckles on the wall of the forecastle house. "That Jalantri fellow's trapped in here now. But there's no harm in putting the other two on display. Get 'em up here! Let's see who knows their faces."

Messengers were dispatched to the Turachs. In sight of the dlomic warriors, Fiffengurt raised both hands, palms outward: Patience Patience. A few minutes later a great mob of Turachs climbed the ladderway, escorting Neda and Cayer Vispek, who were chained hand and foot. At the rear came Sergeant Haddismal, dragging Ibjen roughly by the arm.

"We caught this one squeezing through a hawse-hole," he said, "like he was about to s.h.i.+mmy down the cable into the gulf."

"Then he's he's the fugitive," said Mids.h.i.+pman Bravun. the fugitive," said Mids.h.i.+pman Bravun.

"Fugitive?" cried Ibjen. "Fugitive from whom? I just want to get back to my father!"

Ensyl glanced at the distant sh.o.r.e. "Are you a champion swimmer?" she asked.

"Champion? Of course not! Let me go!"

"Pazel," said Neda suddenly, in Ormali, "have you seen Jalantri? Do you know why he's been kept apart from us in this way?"

She was hiding her anxiety-but not well enough to fool a brother. "It's complicated, Neda," he said.

Her eyes grew suddenly wide. "Did they kill him? They did, didn't they? Tell me the truth!"

Pazel was about to a.s.sure her that Jalantri was safe when Fiffengurt stepped forward, waving his arms. "Quiet, Pathkendle! Listen up, Mr. Ibjen, and you sfvantskor sfvantskors as well: I'm not handing you over to anybody without a reason. But you might just give me that reason if I find out you're telling lies."

"Now you insult us," said Cayer Vispek. "We surrendered to you in good faith."

"We'll see," said Fiffengurt. At his gesture, the sfvantskor sfvantskor prisoners and the dlomic boy were dragged to the rail, and stood facing the dlomu host. Once again the two sides fell silent, applying themselves to their telescopes. prisoners and the dlomic boy were dragged to the rail, and stood facing the dlomu host. Once again the two sides fell silent, applying themselves to their telescopes.

"Their leader's waving them off," said Fulbreech. "He's not interested in them, that's plain." He looked the sfvantskor sfvantskors over carefully. "I suppose they were telling the truth."

"Of course we were," said Vispek, angrier than ever. "What have we to do with them them? Yes, we took some necessities from a s.h.i.+p full of those creatures. But the s.h.i.+p was abandoned, and the crew already dead." He raised his shackled arms. "Mr. Fiffengurt, where is your shame? You have no reason to treat us like criminals."

"Reasons, Cayer?" said Neda with quiet bitterness. "Who needs reasons? Excuses are good enough for Arqualis"-she glanced bitterly at Pazel-"and their pets."

Pazel could not believe his ears. "How can you say that, Neda? How can you think think that?" that?"

"Wait!" cried Thasha suddenly. "The big man's moving. Ah, look: he's reaching for the sh.e.l.l. Maybe he'll give it a try himself."

With his naked eye Pazel could just make out the orange sh.e.l.l, as the mighty leader took it from his aide. But rather than shout into the device he tossed it contemptuously to the ground.

Humans and dlomu grew deathly still. Pazel heard the creak of timbers, the piping of sh.o.r.ebirds about the rocky islets, the b.u.mping of a wheelblock against the foremast. And then came a sudden, desperate banging at the window, and Captain Rose's furious, gale-surmounting roar: "RUN! RUN HER SOUTH! WARE THE s.h.i.+P AND BLARY RUN!"

As that very instant the dlomic warriors gave a terrible cry and began sprinting out along the jetty in their hundreds.

"Ware the s.h.i.+p!" howled Fiffengurt. "Bindhammer, Fegin, aloft your yardmen! Bend them topsails now now!"

"G.o.ds of death," said Haddismal, pointing.

The first dlomu were nearing the end of the jetty, some two miles from the Chathrand Chathrand. But they did not stop: they dived with the grace of dolphins into the sea. One after another they dived, in a long coordinated maneuver. Dozens, then hundreds: the battalion was taking to the waves.