The Warrior's Tale Part 22

'I sure don't want t' throw them dice,' he said. 'You can figure it'll be a long d.a.m.ned sail. On seas we don't know more about th'n a half-a-copper wh.o.r.e knows gold when she sees it. If we had charts, maybe. But th' way she lays, I susp'ct the men won't hold firm fer long.'

I knew what he was thinking and agreed - these officers held their commands by force, luck and consensus. Mutiny could never be further away than one order that rang false to these disgruntled seamen. These rootless freebooters might easily overthrow their officers, murder us, and hoist the black flag. They might think they were as likely to find fortune as pirates here as back in more familiar waters around Orissa. Besides: 'Even if they would,' I said, 'would we be able to find Tristan again? Wouldn't the same spell The Sarzana laid to keep the Konyans from finding the island, a.s.suming he spoke truth, work against us, since we're surely now his enemies?'

'It would,' Gamelan said. 'That was just what I was about to say. No. We can't turn back.'

'We sure as h.e.l.l can't just sail on blindly,' Phocas, Cholla Yi's sailing master snapped.

'Of course not,' I said. 'We have the stick map, and now we know, since we've seen other islands, it's a true model. If we could manage to decipher it fully, we wouldn't be sailing blind.'

'Still ain't good enough,' Stryker said.

'No,' I agreed. 'But I don't see anyone having a better plan. I suggest this - we sail on, south and west. We should look for the most civilized island we can find. We sail in, boldly, and tell the truth - or at least a bit of it. We claim to be an exploratory expedition that lost its way. We come from a great mercantile empire, and seek to open trading routes with the west. It would be of great benefit for someone to aid us and give us directions back towards our own lands. Also we can hint it'd be dangerous to obstruct us, since our country has powerful magicians who'll seek revenge if harm comes to us. Maybe we can get a spell from one of their wizards, or better yet, since there'll be less possibility of our part in The Sarzana's escape being discovered by magic, sailing directions from a navigator or s.h.i.+p's captain. Perhaps they've got Guilds for deepwater seamen, as Redond does.'

There were mutters of approval. Stryker hissed, a noise that I thought signified support. Cholla Yi looked at the other sailors, and nodded his great head.

'Possibly,' he said. 'Possibly. At least your plan is a bold one, and we won't have to slink around until we're found out. Not at all bad, for a woman, and not dissimilar from what I myself had been about to suggest.'

Corais and Polillo stiffened, but showed no other sign of resentment. It didn't matter at all to me if Cholla Yi wanted to hog credit for this plan - if my vague idea could even be given that much of a name. I also chose to ignore the jab about it coming from a woman. Cholla Yi would never change.

'The most important thing,' I went on, 'is we'll have to move quickly. I sense Gamelan's right - sooner or later, our role in unloosing The Sarzana will be discovered. It'd be best if we were long gone from these islands they call Konya before that.'

So it was agreed. We'd sail on. Any landfall would be compared to the stick map, to see if we could begin triangulating our location and start drawing our own map of these seas and islands.

When we returned to the s.h.i.+p, Gamelan drew me aside. 'I think you did come up with the best idea, Rali, even though it's far from perfect, as you said. There's but one problem we haven't considered.'

'The Sarzana,' I said.

'Yes. I don't need any magic to know he'll begin working to regain his throne as rapidly as possible, by blood and spells, which is another reason for us to be out of this region quickly. Also, there is the blood-debt we've incurred in unleas.h.i.+ng him.'

'I know.' That weighed heavily on me. There was a stain on us all, even though we committed our crime unknowingly, under the influence of sorcery. 'How'll we make recompense? Or, at least, be shriven?'

'I don't know,' Gamelan said heavily. 'I don't know. But I do know it will have to be paid.'

As our s.h.i.+ps set full sail once more, Corais joined me on the quarterdeck. I noticed she had a strip of brightly patterned silk tied around her biceps. 'You've sworn an oath?'

Corais nodded. 'I tore this from one of the robes The Sarzana left behind. It'll remind me how I was shamed by that b.a.s.t.a.r.d. I vow, Rali, to you, to Maranonia, to Te-Date and to my own hearth G.o.d, that when next we meet... and I sense we aren't free of him yet... that I'll pay him back in blood for what he did to me!'

For several days we saw little civilization. The isles we pa.s.sed were small and rocky, and the few villages we saw clinging to their sides would hardly give us either the magician or navigator we sought. A few times we chanced hailing fis.h.i.+ng boats, and bought fish for our supper with a gold coin. A few coppers would've been sufficient, but we wanted information as well. I invited them on board, and casually chatted about their lives to lead into questions about what we really sought.

There was little to be learned. Each island was independent, and had little contact with another, or with what one fisherman called 'the men of the lights' further south and deeper into the archipelago. Sailing was hazardous beyond this island group where the sea was open, with little land except the reefs and s.h.i.+p-rending stacks known as the Giants' Dice, where the ocean currents pulled your vessel into their embrace.

They explained why they never dealt with the Konyans further south. Neither had anything the other wanted. No, they knew of no noted sorcerer, and were most grateful they didn't. One fisherman said he'd heard stories of a great war between lords and magicians some time gone, one that had ended in the defeat of the wizards. He told us, and swore it was true, sea demons had been raised to bring them down. I guessed he'd heard tales of The Sarzana's defeat. The only diviners he knew about were the village witches, which were all they needed to call the fish, and maybe provide a bagged wind to drive a boat safely home or, failing that, a little weather-luck to keep boats from getting caught in the storms.

As for navigators skilled with map, astrolabe and compa.s.s, they had no place here with these fishermen. A man didn't need to sail far beyond his own village. Haifa day out, half a day back at most, and any boy knew how to read the sea close to home long before he was permitted to stand behind the rudder. If a boat was caught by a storm, and driven out to sea, well, the fishermen shrugged, if the G.o.ds were good he might find his way home. Otherwise ...

We were told we'd likely find what we were seeking further south, beyond the Giants' Dice, which had been cast there by monstrous beings ages before, after they'd gambled and lost with men - the stakes being these fis.h.i.+ng islands. But we'd best sail carefully, and perhaps wait some weeks, until the summer storms that were brewing blew past. But we had no time to spare.

We sailed on, and as the tiny dots of land grew fewer and fewer, the seas became stronger, green rollers that seemed to have travelled through many waters, building strength as they went.

The way was rough and wet for our small galleys, but I'd learned by now a small, light boat like these could ride out almost any tempest. Besides, we'd survived the storm of the Archon, and those great waves that came with it. And so, unworried if a bit queasy, we bore away from all land, still questing towards the heart of Konya.

One morning, just after dawn, a lookout sighted a sail far ahead, just on the horizon. One, then three more, as we overhauled them. We conferred hastily. Should we avoid them? Should we close? Cholla Yi said we should proceed boldly. We outnumbered them more than two to one, probably had speed on them, and if they were hostile, well, his his men at least were eager to wash the salt from their swords in blood, particularly if there was loot in the offing. Perhaps this might be a way to test the situation rather than sail blindly into some harbour where we could be trapped. men at least were eager to wash the salt from their swords in blood, particularly if there was loot in the offing. Perhaps this might be a way to test the situation rather than sail blindly into some harbour where we could be trapped.

We altered course towards the four s.h.i.+ps. When we did, our s.h.i.+ps began rolling even more. Now we were sailing almost due east, with the wind on our starboard beam. The seas grew heavier as we sailed on, the wind rose in ferocity, and rain began sheeting down in intermittent squalls. It was mid-morning, but it might just as well have been a grey, dark twilight.

'I'm thinkin' we'll be comin' to a blow,' Stryker said. "Pears to me them fishermen weren't tale-tellin' when they said th' summer storms be d.a.m.ned fierce.'

Duban drew him over to the staff our long weather gla.s.s was stapled to. I followed. Stryker tapped the gla.s.s, eyed the level the liquid within had sunk to, and whistled.

'Aye,' Duban said, having nearly to shout to make himself understood over the wind's roar. 'Dropped 'most a fingerwidth in less'n three turnings of the hourgla.s.s. We're in for it, Cap'n.'

'That we be,' Stryker agreed. 'Turn out the watch below. Make certain all's lashed down. 'N have th' galley fire quenched. Double-lash th' boats, and secure th' oars.' He turned to me. 'Cap'n Antero, if you please. Could I have a work detail of yer Guardswomen to help secure th' cargo below? I'll detail mates to supervise.'

I shouted for Corais, and told her to follow Stryker's orders. She nodded, then looked over my shoulder, and her eyes widened in amazement.

I turned, and I, too, gaped. As the storm built, I'd momentarily forgotten the Konyan s.h.i.+ps. Now, we were within a few hundred yards, and even through the rain, could see them clearly. Three of them were smaller, about twice the size of our galleys. Each had three masts, with lateen sails, and were high-decked, with a single p.o.o.pdeck running from amids.h.i.+ps to the stern. It was the fourth s.h.i.+p that made us marvel.

It was a galley, but one such as I could never have imagined. I thought it about ten times the length of our s.h.i.+ps, and as wide as it was long. It had but a single row of oars, but those oars stuck far out into the water. They disappeared into oarholes on a lower deck, so I couldn't see how many men it took to work each of them, but thought there must've been at least five or six to each bench. Above the main-deck was a shelter deck that wasn't much smaller than die main, and, above that the topdeck. Perhaps it was this that gave the s.h.i.+p its amazing appearance, since it was set with three cabins that were roofed like houses on land, with each roof uptilted like so many sun bonnets at the corners. I could see the s.h.i.+p's timbers were covered with elaborate carvings. All of die cabins had huge round portholes, as did the main structure on the deck below. Heavy railings lined the decks, and the ladders leading to each level were more like stairs. It looked, in short, like a two-storey villa, or a small country temple had been magically given a hull and sent to sea. There was a single mast set in the middle of the s.h.i.+p, and one square sail, now with a double goose-wing reef, hung from a yard that must've been turned from a huge tree.

'd.a.m.ned thing's a wooden water-beetle,' Stryker said, and so it appeared as the long oars flailed at the seas, sending up nearly as much spume as the wind.

'Surely h.e.l.l to navigate in a storm like this,' Duban said. 'Look at how it's bein' driven downwind, an' the full storm ain't struck yet. Must be near flat-bottomed like a barge.'

It didn't take any expertise on my part to know he was right -1 could see ten, no fourteen men bending mightily at twin tillers that led to the monstrous rudder I saw for a flash when the s.h.i.+p pitched into a swell, burying its bow in a wave and sending its stern pointed skyward. More sailors swarmed around the shrouds. could see ten, no fourteen men bending mightily at twin tillers that led to the monstrous rudder I saw for a flash when the s.h.i.+p pitched into a swell, burying its bow in a wave and sending its stern pointed skyward. More sailors swarmed around the shrouds.

'What is it?' Polillo asked.

'Can't tell,' Stryker said. 'Unhandy vessel like that, I'd say she might be some kind'a insh.o.r.e merchantman. But look at them workin' parties they got crawlin' all over th' pig. Too d.a.m.ned many sailors fer a merchantman's profit. Maybe she's a wars.h.i.+p. But how does she fight, dammit? Ifn she's got her ram - 'n she's wallowin' like she do -I -I can't see how it'd do any damage, 'less she was a'ter somebody at anchor. h.e.l.l, maybe these Konyans get cross-eyed drunk 'fore they go to battle and try to run down anythin' they spy. Probably, though, they just pull up alongside each other and go at it 'til they run out of heads to chop off, and there be the winner, by d.a.m.ned.' He grew thoughtful. 'It'd surely be interestin',' he said, 't' see what we could do against such a s.h.i.+p, considerin' the amount of prize cargo she might bear.' can't see how it'd do any damage, 'less she was a'ter somebody at anchor. h.e.l.l, maybe these Konyans get cross-eyed drunk 'fore they go to battle and try to run down anythin' they spy. Probably, though, they just pull up alongside each other and go at it 'til they run out of heads to chop off, and there be the winner, by d.a.m.ned.' He grew thoughtful. 'It'd surely be interestin',' he said, 't' see what we could do against such a s.h.i.+p, considerin' the amount of prize cargo she might bear.'

I, too, was thinking in those terms, but caught myself. Was I becoming as great a freebooter as Cholla Yi's men? There was a purpose for s.h.i.+ps, after all, besides war and booty. But still ... I thought of four or so swift galleys, harrying such a behemoth, like direwolves taking down a giant bear. I set the thought aside, to ponder and develop at a more placid time.

The three smaller s.h.i.+ps were obviously escorting the fourth. When we approached, they'd been in a vee-formation in front of the galley. Now they'd changed course, and all three were between us and their charge.

'd.a.m.n' protective, ain't they,' Duban said. 'I'd surely give a year out've my life to root around in them holds for an hour or so, playin' keepsies. Pity we've got other business with 'em.'

Signal bunting fluttered to the tops of the escorts' masts, which we couldn't read, but was, no doubt, challenging us, indicating what waters these s.h.i.+ps of an unknown type hailed from and asking what was our intent. I looked at the flags.h.i.+p to see what reply Cholla Yi was making. He'd bent on a single large white banner, evidently figuring that would be taken for peaceful intent even in these foreign waters. I told Stryker to do the same.

Perhaps it meant something else here, or perhaps we weren't being believed, for I saw armoured men fight their way out on deck into positions by the rail, and two light catapults on each of their foredecks were cleared for action.

'Stryker,' I ordered. 'Signal Cholla Yi to stand off. They think we're attacking.'

'Not in this weather we ain't,' he said, but shouted for the mate on watch.

'We'll try to stay within eyesight of them,' I decided. 'When the storm's over, we'll approach them again with a single s.h.i.+p.'

'Signal from Admiral Yi, sir,' the watch mate ordered. 'All s.h.i.+ps... proceed independently. Run SSE before wind. Will rea.s.semble ... that's all I can make out, sir.'

Now there was no time to worry about these foreign s.h.i.+ps as the storm closed around us. The air was heavy with spume. The wind had grown into a steady scream. I counted one, two, only three of our s.h.i.+ps visible through the murk, then lost them. The Konyans had already vanished into the storm.

'How's the gla.s.s?' Stryker asked.

'Still dropping!'

Stryker swore. He snapped a stream of orders, and working parties fought their way forward along the storming bridge, and put a double reef on the foresail, leaving only a sc.r.a.p of canvas to steady us. The mainmast and yard were lowered, and I heard Stryker cursing Duban for not bringing it down an hour earlier. I had a moment to wonder whether Klisura's murder might not punish us further, since it was evident from Stryker's treatment of the new master he had nowhere near the regard for Duban that he'd had for Klisura.

I ordered my Guard below. Polillo, who was looking distincdy pale, pulled me aside and swore she'd rather be washed overside than be stifled in her sickness below. I took pity, and ordered her to tie herself to the port rail, and stand by to help the steersman. Stryker had already detailed two men to the tiller, but even they were fighting to hold the s.h.i.+p on its course. I went below and told off Dica and two others to take care of Gamelan in his cabin, and also quiedy gave them the harsh order that in the event of complete disaster their lives were less vital than the wizard's, and they should act accordingly. They understood and took no offence.

Back on deck, I tied a line around my waist and to the staff, with about ten feet of slack so I could move around the small quarterdeck. Stryker and Duban did the same.

The winds grew louder still, rising to a howl. The rigging screeched like a cornered bear. Stryker ordered the lookouts in the forepeak below, and we began taking green water over the rails. We had barely got the mast down in time - now, anyone venturing down onto the weather deck wouldn't stand a chance. It didn't look as if we were on a s.h.i.+p at all, but rather on two square rafts, the foredeck and the quarterdeck, invisibly tied together, drifting through this tempest.

The strangest thing, though, was something you would never hear from an old sailor's dockside yarn about great storms - the weather was tropical, muddy. The waves that dashed over us were warm as blood.

We were running due south, the wind behind us, unable to hold the south-southeast heading Cholla Yi had ordered. A cross-swell hit us from the east, and our s.h.i.+p was pitching, slamming from side to side. Polillo was now at the tiller, and I saw her muscles bulge as she and the tillermen fought to hold our course. The ocean was slate-grey, the shrieking wind blowing the tops off the waves, and streaking the sea itself. It was hard to tell where air stopped and the water began. The winds paused for a moment, and I saw, astern of us, another Orissan galley and then the typhoon closed in.

The cross-swell was making our s.h.i.+p yaw, and Stryker shouted, close in my ear, we were in peril - we could broach. It was more than the wind, he thought. We were in the grip of an ocean current that drove us along as fast as if we were riding the spring flood down Orissa's river. We needed to put out a sea anchor. Stryker told me what was needed. I knew where the bosun's stores were, up forward, and worked my way to a hatchway, waited until there was a s.p.a.ce between waves, jerked the hatch open and dropped down the companionway.

If the deck was h.e.l.lish, it was worse below. The world, lit only by the dim glow from a handful of small gla.s.s deadlights set in the deck above, pitched and rolled. The air was as thick as a sauna, and reeked of fear-sweat, dirty bodies, stale bread, mould, vomit and s.h.i.+t. Not everything had been lashed down in time - a mess chest skittered across the deck, and a sailor barely rolled out of its way. Bronze dishes clattered their way from side to side as we rolled, and I felt the crunch of shattered pottery under my boot-heels.

Stryker's sailors were in every posture imaginable. Some tried yarning with their s.h.i.+pmates, and I wondered if the stories made sense and, if so, who could tell. Some were praying. Some just waited, staring blankly, having tied themselves to a deck stanchion. Some pretended unconcern, and cast lots on a blanket, although I noted no one seemed quite sure of the stakes. But one sailor, an old grey-bearded man whose name I remembered as Bertulf, topped everyone. He'd slung his hammock from its beams, crawled in, and gone to sleep. He wasn't shamming. I bent over and heard him snore, and his breath would've made a whale's spout smell sweet.

My Guardswomen were holding in as good an order as could be expected. Even though I'd never trained them for such a time, there were no signs of panic or disorder. Again the truth of the old saw that to fight easy you must train hard came. I took Cliges and Ebbo, both nearly as strong as Polillo, and we worked our way forward.

We were just to the mainmast step when I smelt something. Smoke! A wooden, tarred s.h.i.+p could explode in seconds if fire broke out, and I'd heard tales of s.h.i.+ps that had ironically been destroyed in storms by runaway fire, not water. I saw, or maybe thought I saw, a tiny wisp of smoke. It was near a chest mounted solidly to the deck, and I remembered it contained the cook's pots. I rushed to it, jerked the catch away, and the door opened. Smoke billowed out. Someone shouted fire, and I heard a rush of feet, and a blow, and a shout of 'Stop' as panic spread but I paid no attention. I looked about wildly for water, saw nothing, had a moment to realize the irony, then spotted a bucket lashed to a beam, and ripped it from its stays and cast its contents into the chest. Steam billowed, and I heard a hiss over the roar of the wind outside. I nearly vomited. But the jakes bucket did its work, and the smoke was gone, the fire out.

I spun, looking for the culprit, and spotted him. The cook cowered against a bulkhead. I stepped towards him, and he moved away, holding his hands up as if to ward off a blow. 'It was ... just a bit of punk ... I didn't mean ... I thought it was safe ... it was so I could start the fire when the wind died ...' and then both his hands jerked up in the air, as if he were praying, and he collapsed.

The pillow-nosed sailor named Santh bent and wiped the wet blade of his dagger on the corpse's smock. He straightened, sheathed his knife, and looked at me. 'Someone's intent on killin' me, I think it's on'y fair I do them first.' Santh laughed. "Sides, th' b.a.s.t.a.r.d couldn' cook worth fish s.h.i.+t, anyway.'

I didn't say anything, but pushed past. We had an entire s.h.i.+p to worry about. Punis.h.i.+ng him was Stryker's or Duban's duty, anyway -since I tried to stay clear of disciplining the sailors - if he'd even committed a crime in their eyes.

We found our way to the bosun's storeroom, and, c.u.mbered with the coil of heavy line, went back the way we came, and out on deck.

I didn't think it was possible for the storm to worsen, but it had. There was nothing in the universe except our s.h.i.+p, and the storm. I could barely make out the forepeak through the streaming rain. Following Stryker's orders, we tied the great line in a bight, and lashed it securely to the sternpost. Then we let it stream astern. I could feel the difference almost immediately, as our s.h.i.+p slowed its wild yawing. It did, however, have a nasty snap as each wave rolled past under us, and the sea anchor came taut.

A great wave loomed up from astern. I had time to grab Cliges, scrabble for a handhold, and saw Ebbo go flat, both hands clinging for life itself to the taffrail, and the wave came down on us. I felt that same swirl and water pulling as I'd known when the volcanoes' sea-waves took us. But this lasted only for half an eternity, and then was gone. I stumbled to my feet, gave Cliges a hand up, and then shuddered, as I saw four full feet of the taffrail had been ripped away by the wave. The taffrail... and Ebbo! I pulled my way to the side, and peered out. Perhaps, just for a moment, far astern, I saw the white flash of an arm flailing, or perhaps I imagined it. But then there was nothing.

Duban was beside me. 'Mebbe,' he growled, 'that'll give th' tempest a sacrifice it wants.'

I almost struck him, but what good would it do? Perhaps he was right. I said a short prayer for my spearwoman Ebbo to Maranonia, and resolved to make sacrifice for her when we returned to Orissa, as I must do for all too many of my women. But there wasn't time for mourning, as the storm took us again in its grip, shaking us, shaking us, shaking us, as one of my brother's warehouse terriers worries a rat.

The storm roared on. The sea anchor helped, but it still wasn't enough. The s.h.i.+p shuddered as wave after wave cascaded over the main-deck, and I wondered how long the hull could take the punishment. I asked Stryker, and he shrugged - who knew?

We needed something to flatten the seas. I wished yet again Gamelan hadn't lost his powers - perhaps he could've cast a spell to help, maybe surrounding the s.h.i.+p with calm, a placid moon pool. I knew it would take a sorcerer of mighty powers to produce a conjuration that'd stand against this hurricane. I thought, and then it came. Oil. Stryker said we only had a few containers of cooking oil below, and one or two jugs of mineral oil to keep the weaponry from rusting.

I grinned - this might be easy. One container could easily become many. Just then, in the height of the storm, it came together, if only for a moment. I had a flas.h.i.+ng memory from my childhood, of puzzling over strange squiggles that meant something to others but were meaningless ciphers to me, until one day there was a snap, and I could read. Now I had a vision of what Gamelan had been saying about Janos Greycloak's 'single natural force'. If that was true, and I knew it so, there must be many, many ways to the same end, as many as the mind of man or demon could produce. Now, as to what I needed ...

It was as if there were some bearded pedant in my mind, perhaps one of my brother's boyhood tutors, except one with real real knowledge, saying, 'Oil, harrumph, yes. Oil is a liquid, and all liquids share common qualities, do they not? The trick then must be ...' knowledge, saying, 'Oil, harrumph, yes. Oil is a liquid, and all liquids share common qualities, do they not? The trick then must be ...'

The trick was easy, and I didn't need to go below. I grabbed the pannikin that hung next to the scuttleb.u.t.t for the steersman, and held it out. In an instant the pouring rain filled it to overflowing. I opened the door to the storage cabinet under the binnacle, and found the small vial that held oil to replenish the compa.s.s needle's bath. Holding myself steady against the s.h.i.+p's pitching, I uncorked the vial and let a single drop fall into the pannikin.

The words came swiftly...

Water listen Water hear Feel your cousin Hold her close Let her body be yours Breathe together You are one You are her.

... and the pannikin was full of oil.

It was equally simple to dump the sand out of the fire buckets, let them fill with water, drop a bit of the oil from the pannikin into the bucket, and then heave the full bucket of oil over the stern. Polillo exerted all of her great strength and held the tiller steady, and the other four of us emptied bucket after bucket overside.

Emboldened by success, I chanced another spell, telling the men to touch each bucket against the sternpost before dumping it. Again, I chanted: From the s.h.i.+p you were born Follow your mother Follow her close Follow her near Let none come between.

I couldn't tell if this incantation worked. The oil did seem to hang close to the s.h.i.+p's stern, and follow us as if we were leaking from a great tank, but maybe our suction was just drawing it along. I didn't think the spell was a complete success, certainly - it wasn't what I'd envisioned, intending to produce that huge moon pool with us sitting in the middle.

The second spell's partial success didn't matter much. The oil held the seas down, and not nearly as many came cras.h.i.+ng aboard, especially from astern. Not that we'd suddenly entered some kind of magical safe harbour. The winds still screeched and the s.h.i.+p snapped back and forth, back and forth.

There was another problem - when we rolled the s.h.i.+p hesitated for long moments before coming back to normal. Maybe we were taking water in the bilges, maybe we were rolling farther than the craftsman who first carved a model of this galley to build from could dream of. On one such roll I found myself hanging from the port rail, looking almost straight down at Polillo at the tiller. We stayed like that nearly for ever, then, reluctantly, the s.h.i.+p groaned and started back. Even with the sea anchor and the oil, we were hard-pressed.

Time pa.s.sed. It must've been only hours, because I don't remember darkness. I remember water, and wind, and being slammed back and forth, bruise growing upon bruise. I remember only two things clearly from those long hours: I relieved Polillo at the tiller, as two other sailors took over for the steersmen. Her face was bright red. I thought at first it was merely flushed, but then realized she was bleeding. The wind was strong enough to cut skin like a knife. I ordered her below. She peered Wearily, then nodded and made no protest. The other was when a wave lifted us, almost broaching us to and rolling us under, and I thanked Te-Date for the sea anchor. We rolled almost on our beams, and I looked out and nearly screamed. In the trough below was that monstrous Konyan galley, its sail ripped to shreds, mast broken halfway up, and no sign of life on its decks, its tiller lashed hard and unmanned. For a moment, I thought we were going to be cast down on top of it, shattering both s.h.i.+ps, but then it was away, invisible in the gale.

There wasn't anything then, except the wind and the water and the fear.

Then we broke into clear, sunny skies.

'We're in th' eye of it now,' I heard Duban shout.

It should've been a calm summer sea, fit for dabbling with a lover in a canoe from the blue sky and bright sun. But it was a maelstrom, as waves battered us from all directions, and the wind whipped through all points of the compa.s.s. A flock of gulls were hurled past by the wind and then were gone.

I saw the Konyan galley once more, rolling and pitching in the seas. Just ahead were the rearing reefs and rocks I knew to be the Giants' Dice. The current was pulling both of us down to doom. Huge rocks, reefs and stacks jutted from the tossing ocean. Nowhere was there a bit of green or even brown earth to be seen, nothing but bare stone.

Duban and Stryker shouted for all hands, and the oars were manned, the oarsmen lashed to their benches. Gamelan wanted to come on deck, but I refused to let him, and told Dica to make sure he stayed below. Even with eyes it was all too easy to let your attention slip and the sea take you. Gamelan grumbled, but obeyed.

Somehow, the mainmast and yard were hoisted, and a small amount of canvas unfurled. It was enough to give us way against the current, and slowly we beat our track out of harm's way.

But there was no salvation for the Konyan s.h.i.+p. It was carried relentlessly towards its fate. Of all the islets and reefs that made up the Giants' Dice, the ones the galley was being drawn to must've been the deadliest. Sheer pillars stuck straight up, curved across the ocean like a cupped hand, or better, fangs set in open jaws. There were s.p.a.ces between these rocks, but certainly not wide enough for even the most skilled captain to pilot a s.h.i.+p through in calm seas. We saw no sign of the three escort vessels, either then or ever, and I guess they must've been driven down in the storm.

Even through the spume-thick air, I could see Konyan sailors on the decks of the galley, trying to jury-rig some sort of storm sail on the mast-stub. Brown canvas showed, and I felt a bit of hope, but seconds later the wind ripped it away. The galley's oars were manned, but it looked as if the oarsmen were panicked, each oar sweeping to its own rhythm. The s.h.i.+p pitched sideways, nearly broaching, nearly smas.h.i.+ng against a rock as large as it was, but it cleared, brus.h.i.+ng past but smas.h.i.+ng all of the oars on that side like toothpicks. Now the Konyan s.h.i.+p was completely out of control.

Polillo, her seasickness forgotten, was beside me. 'What can we do?'

I didn't know.

'We can't just... let them die,' she said.

I looked to Stryker.

'Captain?'

He shook his head. 'If that b.a.s.t.a.r.d was smaller, and the seas calmer, and this G.o.ds-cursed current weren't runnin' at full ebb, maybe we could work closer, pa.s.s them a line and try to tow them out. But... h.e.l.l! There's nothing!' His eyes moved past me, onto the s.h.i.+p. Now it was very close to the rocks. 'Anchor it, you stupid b.a.s.t.a.r.ds! Get some iron down!'