Kingdom Of Royth

CHAPTER 9

Cayla handled the little details of taking Blade on as her mate with a competence and a grasp of politics that impressed Blade in spite of himself. She sponsored him in his Initiation, when he stood up before the Captains' Council, let blood from a gash in his arm drip on to a small altar of Druk, the patron deity of seafarers, and said:

«By Druk, I swear to serve the Brotherhood, obey its laws in all ways, heed the word of the Council of Captains, shed my blood for it without stint as I do here, and hold my own life lightly if only the Brotherhood live. If I foreswear myself, may my Brothers turn away from me, my ship be swallowed up by Druk's green sea, and Druk himself cast me forth from his halls as foul and corrupt.»

Cayla also sponsored the elevation of her former first mate to the rank of Captain, to make a vacancy for Blade-and also to earn the mate's gratitude. One more client among the Captains. When she hooked the jeweled dagger of his predecessor onto his belt, she said loudly, «Wear this and wield this as well as he who wore it before you,» and Blade saw the other man almost glowing with pride. He also saw Alixa glowering at him, and afterwards she rejected all explanations and stamped away in a rage. He sighed, shrugged, and told Tuabir to continue his watch over Alixa.

«Aye, that I will do. The more for her sake than for yours, now. What can that witch have done to you, that you rush off to join her for mate-or mating?» It occurred to Blade that while Tuabir might not be adept like Cayla, he had a sharp eye and a fear of no man, woman, or beast. He might not be able to keep the old pirate as a friend now, but it would be wise not to make him into an enemy.

Then, quickly, there was too much for Blade to do to leave him with time for any worrying about his own intrigues or those of anybody else. Sea Witch had already been refitted and supplied for her next raiding voyage, and Cayla was anxious to be out and away again as soon as possible. But she would not leave until she was satisfied that Blade knew the ship and how to handle her and her crew as well as possible-or at least, as well as possible after ten days of instruction.

Blade spent every one of those ten days aboard Sea Witch, poring over charts and lists and navigational instruments, exploring every part of the ship from the masthead to the bilge, and finally standing aft beside Cayla as she watched him put the crew through every possible maneuver and exercise, flaying him at the top of her voice if he made a mistake. At times, being Cayla's first mate felt like being back at officer-training school, being tongue-lashed by the drill sergeants. But her competence as a sailor, like her political judgment, was something he had to respect. Cayla was now a friend, and it would be sheer suicide to make her into an enemy.

Finally, at the end of the eleventh day, she admitted him to her bed again, and as they lay in delicious exhaustion afterwards she told him of her plans for the voyage. It was a daring scheme she had in mind, and the risks of disaster were great, but the rewards of success would be even greater.

The County of Tram lay near the northern end of the coast of Mardha. It was almost an island, about sixty miles by thirty, and connected to the coast by a long isthmus no more than two miles wide. To save coastal shipping the long and dangerous passage around the shores of the County, the Counts of Tram had built a canal through the isthmus, for which they charged a stiff toll. A fair-sized town had grown up around the canal. In addition, there were at this time of year seldom less than thirty ships waiting at either end of the canal for passage. And there was the money from the tolls, stored in small forts at either end also. There were few places in the Four Kingdoms where so much wealth was concentrated in such a small area.

Not that it was entirely ripe for the plucking. The counts maintained a fair-sized fleet of war galleys and armed merchant vessels to patrol their coasts and the approaches to the canal. Also, both the canal entrances and the town were fortified in a rather haphazard fashion. Any large fleet approaching would certainly be detected and engaged on the way in. And no single ship could carry enough fighters to face the garrisons.

But two or three ships might achieve surprise, particularly if they came in by night, skirting the northern and eastern coasts that were supposed to be too reef-strewn for safe navigation. Cayla knew passages through the reefs-she said they were marked in ancient charts drawn up by the Serpent Priestesses.

«And as for the rest-it is always easiest to take a fortress that has not been threatened for many years. Its defenders become lazy and their watchfulness fades, because they think they have no need to worry.» Almost as an afterthought, she added, «The Counts of Tram were great in the persecution of our Cult. They stuffed their coffers with gold and jewels looted from our shrines, and they filled their dungeons and torture chambers with our priestesses and acolytes.» There was a flare of vengeful rage in her eyes.

Esdros, the former first mate, was joining them with his new ship, Spider Prince. But they needed a third, if possible.

«What about Tuabir and Thunderbolt?» asked Blade. «He seems to be a tough fighter and a good captain. And Thunderbolt's larger and has a bigger crew than either Prince or Witch.»

«All that is true,» said Cayla. «But I cannot help thinking that Tuabir is your friend and supporter more than mine.»

«If I am your Companion, my friends and supporters are yours.»

«Are they, Blahyd? I often wonder whether you seek to build up your faction within our faction.»

«Tuabir will not turn down a chance to score a great victory and win great booty,» said Blade, to turn the conversation away from this touchy area. «And if he values my friendship, he will follow those I follow.»

«He will if he values his life,» said Cayla shortly. «So be it. That will give us nearly three hundred good fighters. If we cannot make the Count of Tram howl with those, I shall give up my place as a Captain to someone who can!» Blade devoutly wished that last sentence might prove more than a mere verbal flourish.

Recruiting Thunderbolt caused more delay. This annoyed Cayla, since there were only about six weeks left for raiding voyages before the winter storms set in. It relieved Blade, however, since he had no desire to see Cayla get any more wealth and influence than she had now, even if his own would increase along with hers. It also gave him more time to consider how best to make his escape from Neral and somehow contrive to make his way to the shores of Royth with Alixa and Brora. He could not conceivably make his own escape and leave them on Neral to face a certain and horrible death.

There could be no way off the southern end of the island. Over the cliffs there was no possible route, unless one were a combination of bird and fish. And there was no way out through the passage. All of those fortifications could keep someone in as easily as keep them out.

Off the northern part of the island, beyond the Mountain? More possible. That area was flat and comparatively unguarded. There were apparently only enough sentries there to keep out casual trespassers and keep in the household and plantation slaves. Some of the wealthier Captains had small villas on the northern slopes of the Mountain and small yachts in creek-mouth along the northern coast. If the three of them could make it across the Mountain and manage to steal one of those yachts, and if they could then get a good head start toward the coast of Royth before the alarm was raised-well, the Ocean was large. Even Cayla's influence would hardly be enough to turn out the whole Brotherhood after him. It was a hair-raisingly risky project, but apparently the best hope he had. And in any case, there was no need to do anything serious about it for some months yet, until the end of the coming winter. Trying to sail a small yacht all the way to Royth against the winter storms would simply be a complicated way to commit suicide. Blade firmly put the matter of escape from Neral out of his mind and concentrated on the raid against Tram.

Tuabir had been dubious about the raid at first, but once he had agreed to join it, he drove his own men and the dockyard crews as though sea monsters would swallow them all up if Thunderbolt were not ready for sea in three days at the latest. So did Captain Esdros. But enough days still passed to make Cayla short-tempered and snappish before all three ships were manned, equipped, stored, and ready for sea.

Tuabir and Esdros were new as Captains, and Cayla was not one of the most popular ones, so there were no crowds to see them off. Perhaps there would have been none in any case, for they slipped out through the passage in the pale gray light of early dawn, with lanterns still burning to illuminate the dark passage and make the faint curls of foam from the oars glimmer. Clear of the reefs, they raised sail to the brisk following wind and swung away on a broad reach toward the west and their goal.

They sighted the high peak called the Helmet that marked the northeastern corner of Tram only thirteen days out from Neral. Tuabir's navigation had brought the squadron directly to their intended landfall. Almost too close, in fact, since Cayla said there were watchposts on the Helmet that scanned the sea for the approach of hostile fleets. The squadron turned north for half a day, then east again, and it was not until the sun was going down on the fifteenth day of their voyage that Cayla ordered course changed to the south again. She brought out a brass tube, uncapped it, and pulled out a chart yellow with age and frayed with much handling. Blade could recognize the outlines of the land masses, but could not read a single word or number.

Cayla did not bother to explain, but went forward with the chart and a small silver box. She gave strict orders that none were to go forward of amidships until she gave the word. Blade and Brora sat down on the deck, with the rest of the crew behind them. They waited nervously while Sea Witch drifted aimlessly and the other two ships formed in a line behind her.

A low murmur from forward made Blade's flesh crawl. Cayla was chanting an incantation. A pungent whiff of the same smoke he had smelled in the underground shrine drifted aft. Then he started violently, feeling his hair stand on end.

Something large was moving in the water just below the bow-something large and living. Blade heard a splashing, the sound of a rough surface dragging across metal, then a prolonged and unmistakable hissing noise. Cayla's voice rose again, louder this time, with a note of impatience. The hissing came again. Cayla spoke a single word. Then a quick rasp, a loud splash followed by several smaller ones, and silence.

That silence was broken by a shout from Cayla. «Man the oars, you dogs! Blahyd, you pass my orders on to the steersman. Tell Esdros and Tuabir to follow us exactly, to the stroke.» Again, there was a faint splashing sound from ahead, quickly drowned out by the thuds and bangs of the men running to the oars. Slowly Sea Witch gathered speed, with Blade standing amidships and relaying Cayla's orders. Brora stood on the stern and watched to see that the other two ships were following them. What they themselves were following, what Cayla had conjured out of the sea, Blade did not care to speculate.

The night was dark, but even in the darkness Blade soon caught the loom of land off to starboard. They were cutting dangerously close to the eastern coast of Tram, through waters the chart showed to be crisscrossed with an impenetrable and lethal maze of reefs. He supposed he should be glad that Cayla had somehow conjured their invisible guide out of the dark sea to lead them, but found he could not manage it.

How long they crept through the darkness behind the thing that swam ahead of them Blade never knew precisely. It was still deep darkness when Cayla suddenly shouted, «Back oars! Let go the anchors!» Blade heard the oar thumps and the rattle and scrape of the anchor chain echoing around them. There was land, high and close by, but invisible in the darkness. He saw the ghostly shapes of Thunderbolt and Spider Prince range up alongside them, then faint flurries of white as their anchors in turn went down. In the silence that followed, Cayla's voice rose again in a mighty shout of triumph that had no words in it, and was answered by a prolonged hiss from the water and a final tumult of splashing. Blade risked stepping over to the railing just in time to see a faintly glistening mound of water passing aft just beyond the tips of the oars. But what swam beneath that mound and raised it by its passage was still as invisible as it had been all during the night.

Cayla came aft, and for once she came into Blade's arms to be supported and held, as though the night had been too much of a strain even for her iron body and spirit. «I did not think they would answer, after all these years. But they live. They live.» No need to ask what «they» were.

«Where are we?»

«A small river mouth less than two hours due west of our goal. We will spend the day here, resting, then move against Tram tonight.»

«Won't they find us easily here?»

«Here?» She laughed savagely. «Once a temple of our Cult stood here. You will see the ruins when daylight comes. The count who made it ruins laid his curse on the spot and forbade all his subjects to ever pass by. The people's own superstitions will keep them away and us safe.»

Gradually the ships settled down for their rest, and gradually also the blackness around them turned gray. In that gray light Blade saw that the three ships were nestled between two steep bluffs, heavily wooded almost down to the water's edge. On top of the bluff to the right, a gaunt tower with windows gaping like the eyes of a skull rose above the trees. Dead black except where vines had struggled up from below, it seemed to brood over past evils-or contemplate future ones. Remembering what inhabited the still, black waters below it, Blade did not wonder that the land around the tower was shunned as cursed. With nothing else to do, he wrapped himself in his cloak and lay down on the deck in the shade of one of the rower's benches. He could not, after this night, bring himself to go below and share Cayla's bed.