The Rats and the Ruling sea

28

24 Freala 941

For the first time in his life, Felthrup crossed a deck in broad daylight without fear of men. The only danger they posed now was trampling; rats were the last thing on their mind. After what had happened in Thasha's cabin, moreover, Felthrup felt a strange, intoxicating liberty coursing through him. When two sailors locked in an argument over battle protocol jammed the ladderway, he shrilled, 'One side, one side!' — making them leap from his path. I scared them, thought Felthrup. I might have been a bear, the way they jumped! Although in fact they could kill me with one blow. Reckless, that is the word. I am a reckless woken rat!

But also a rat with a mission. And once he had bounded down into the gloom of the mercy deck, Felthrup realised just how perilous his mission was. The normally abandoned deck was caught up in a frenzy such as he had never seen. Hurricane lamps whirled through the half-light. Sailors were running, striking at one another, bellowing for greater speed. Every voice was raised, and still they could scarcely be heard above the thunder of feet on the boards above. Don't stop, darling Felthrup, run now or you'll never run at all.

So Felthrup ran, straight through that frightened stampede, with men slamming and shouldering crates and hogsheads about as fast as they possibly could, securing everything that might slide or topple when the Great Ship fled. This I do for Dri. For the lady who saw me as I truly am.

In their cargo-crate fortress the ixchel huddled, hearing the madness of the giants spread, feeling the tremors as cargo-restraining boards were slapped down and nailed to the deck within a few yards of them. Young ixchel warriors stood armed and tensed; their elders sighed with remembered massacres; parents clutched children tight to their sides. Not one in six hundred made a sound, not even the youngest: ixchel learn not to cry in their first month of life, and never do so again except in silence.

When they heard the rat's voice, octaves above that of the giants, they did not know what to do. It did not sound like the normal witless rat-prattle. Indeed it could not be: there was too much of truth about it. You can hear me, cousins, I know you can. Your lady is wounded; the rest remain on Sandplume. Be fearless now or lose them for ever. Send me one — no more. Just one brave soul prepared to fly.

He struggled to shout over the humans — most bellowing orders, a few exclaiming about a woken rat, and a growing number declaring that miraculous or not, they would stomp the rodent dead if it didn't shut up.

Thasha followed the captain up the No. 5 ladderway, squeezed by the men rushing headlong in both directions. It had taken Rose nearly a full minute to believe her, she mused, but the crew of the Chathrand had taken his word without a second thought.

They stepped out on the topdeck and she paused, overwhelmed. She thought she knew what an active ship looked like, but past emergencies paled before this whirlwind. At every hatch the watch-captains punished their kettledrums. Sailors by the hundreds were leaping for the halyards, and between them Turachs were falling in with crossbows, longbows, and vascthas that flung discs of sharpened steel. The rigging boiled with men, laying aloft, running out the spars, freeing the clews on sail after sail. Tarboys raced down both sides of the ship, emptying sacks of sawdust for footing. The windscoops were capped, the running lights struck down, the few passengers in sight were driven below, the tonnage hatch was sealed with oilskin, and great rolls of netting were stretched between the shrouds, to guard the men on deck from falling mastwood.

Captain Rose marched towards the waist of the ship. 'Odd mains, Mr Alyash,' he cried, with that tireless trumpet-blast voice he could keep up for hours. 'Mr Frix, cut us free. Uskins, turn out Byrd's crew to the carronades, Tanner's to portside forward, and get Drellarek's replacement to the quarterdeck as soon as his men are in hand. Mr Jonhelm, see that the galley fire's put out. Lady Oggosk, I beg you to stay indoors.'

'Soon enough, Nilus. I want a look at her first.'

The witch had an excited gleam in her eye. She meant the Jistrolloq, Thasha knew, but if they caught sight of her while still trapped in the cove it would be the last thing they ever saw.

After his first explosive shout the captain had become extraordinarily calm. His voice when he raised it was deafening, but he spoke most of his orders softly to his lieutenants, who relayed them mast by mast along the ship. His face was emotionless; his eyes slid over the crew with an abstracted look. To Thasha, who had seen Rose spitting and furious over a misplaced pen, this subdued Rose was more unsettling than a thousand bellows.

'Let us have topgallants, Mr Alyash. But stand by to clew up the moment we clear the rock.'

Alyash looked at the cove's western headland. 'Oppo, sir. I can hear that wind. Not that it's doing us any good.'

'Full parties to the braces nonetheless,' said Rose. 'We're going to have to swing the mains about like a lady's parasol to scrape out of here.'

The anchor went by the board: Frix and Fegin, wielding a two-man hawser saw, cut through the tree-thick line in a few dozen strokes. Thasha felt the sudden kick as they floated free, and turned just in time to see the mainsail flash open, like a white castle wall suddenly raised in their midst. The forecourse and spanker-course followed: the odd-numbered mainsails, far enough apart not to fight one another for the meagre wind. Thasha raised her eyes even higher and saw men bending topsails. The upper canvas might catch a wind that the lower sails missed, but would all of them together give them speed enough to escape the cove in time? Between the stone cliffs the Chathrand stood nearly becalmed — even as the Jistrolloq raced towards them on the open fetch of the westerlies.

Suddenly a vast noise erupted to port, followed by the screams of ten thousand birds. All eyes whirled towards Sandplume. From the highest point on the island, a column of scarlet fire was rising heavenwards. Taller and taller it grew, until it resembled a great burning tree, while around it the seabirds rose in one contiguous mass of flapping terror. Many of the birds collided, or wheeled out of control into the fire itself, where they blazed for an instant and were gone.

'Silence, fore and aft,' boomed Rose over the cries of the sailors. 'Mr Coote, I want fire hoses ready at the bilge pumps.'

Even as he spoke the tree of flame blinked, trembled and was gone. But smoke still rose from the hilltop, and Thasha saw that the flame had set the brittle underbrush alight. She winced. All those blary nests.

Then Rose's hand closed on her shoulder. In a growl meant for her ears alone, he asked, 'What in the Nine Pits is happening, girl?'

'I don't know anything about that flame,' she said, leaning away from him. 'But there's a man on Sandplume — a priest, maybe. He has the sceptre that belonged to the old Mzithrini Father. Sathek's Sceptre, it's called. I don't know what it's for.'

'That's it?'

'That's all I know, Captain.'

Rose bent even lower, drawing her into a huddle that shut out the deck. In a throaty whisper, he asked, 'Which one of them told you?'

Thasha dared not say a word. Did he know about the ixchel after all? Then Rose glanced surreptitiously down at their feet, and Thasha's skin went cold. There were other feet beside their own, other men, pressing close as if trying to listen in. Their boots were old and battered and darkly stained. Thasha felt the same whirling disorientation that came to her when she opened the Polylex, the same desire to turn away.

Rose flashed her a knowing look. 'You can tell me,' he said. 'Was it Captain Mauloj, with the facial tic? Or old Levirac, with the bad teeth? Or Farsin, maybe — the one with raw meat on his breath?'

Stiff with amazement, Thasha murmured: 'N-no, sir. It was… someone else.'

'Doesn't matter. You keep them away from me. Say whatever you like, just order them to keep their distance. Only if Kurlstaf appears, you listen to every word he says, and share it with me instantly, do you hear?'

'But which one is he?' Thasha pleaded.

'Kurlstaf, Captain Kurlstaf!' said Rose, exasperated. 'The pansy with the lipstick and painted nails!' With that he released her and bellowed for Fiffengurt — only to find the quartermaster already at his elbow.

'That flame was a signal to the Jistrolloq, Captain, or I'm a knave.'

'Aye, Quartermaster,' said Rose. He turned forward and boomed again: 'Tactical team to the quarterdeck. Mr Alyash, have a look at the gun decks before you join us. Mr Uskins, I want a report on the doings of the sorcerer: beat on his door until he opens it. And you-' he jabbed a finger at Thasha. '-close the shutters in that private palace of yours, then return to my side.'

I'm going mad, Thasha told herself, running for the stateroom. My mind 's coming to pieces; I've always wondered what it would feel like and now I know.

She was seeing the dead, seeing ghosts. They had vanished when Rose released her shoulder, without her ever catching a glimpse of their faces. But before she left the topdeck she had looked back at the captain, and there they were, milling about him like flies. They did not look monstrous — or rather, they looked monstrous in the same way Rose did: hard-bitten, brutal, weathered by years at sea. One was dressed like her great-uncle, in the old regalia of the Merchant Service. Two others wore the blue sash and high collar of the old Imperium: a uniform instantly familiar from the portraits that had adorned her father's study, portraits of naval captains of the First Sea War. A fourth was dressed in brown, like the axe-wielding men who had chased her belowdecks. Yet another wore a frock coat with outlandish tails, and grimaced with muscle spasms.

Why do they terrify us so? she couldn't help thinking. But the Polylex had provided one answer. She could still hear Felthrup, reading aloud two nights before: A ghost is one thing by daylight and quite another in the dark. At nightfall would they become the faceless people she had seen in the blane-sleep? Did that sort of creature visit the captain night after night? It would be enough to drive anyone mad.

Rose was trying studiously to ignore the spirits, as if they were beggars ready to mob him at the least encouragement. No one else knew they were there. Except for me, she thought. Why me? Was she being punished, or warned perhaps? Is my father dead, and calling me from the land of the dead, and giving me a way to see him? Is he searching for me right now? The thought was like a bone in her throat.

And still she sensed them around her: a soft tug at her sleeve, a moving shadow that vanished as she turned, a voice murmuring on an empty stair. We have him, it seemed to say, he's lost to you forever, he's oursClenched against the voices, she stepped out of the ladderway onto the upper gun deck and collided with Pazel, who was running in the opposite direction.

At the sight of Thasha his face lit up. He seized her arms, grinning, whirled her around — and then, just as suddenly, his eyes became guarded and evasive, and he banished the smile from his face.

'You're — different,' he said.

'Oh,' she laughed. 'Yes. And so are you.'

It was her first glimpse of him since the night of the dancing. His gaze slid to the deck. 'Made it back alive, anyway,' he said.

'So Fiffengurt told us,' she said pointedly. 'And I suppose it's good luck that we bumped into each other, since we may not be alive an hour from now.' Her anger with him was already rising to the surface. 'Excuse me, I have to close the storm-shutters.'

'Beat you to it,' he said. 'The stateroom's secured. Neeps is just finishing up.'

'How is Dri?'

'Worried. The ixchel girl Felthrup sent has never flown before.'

Thasha glanced nervously about the passage: they were still alone. 'Is it true, what Fiffengurt says?' she asked quietly. 'That you saw the scar on Rose's arm, I mean?'

He nodded. 'It's true, but that doesn't mean we can trust him. He's still the craziest man on this ship, and one of the nastiest. Thasha… what's happened to you?'

She knew he wasn't talking about her nicks or bruises, or anything as simple as that. But how could she explain, when she didn't understand herself? 'I stayed up late, reading the Polylex. What happened to you?'

'A giant lizard breathed on me.'

'Oh.'

'And talked. It was terrible. Thasha, are you in love with Fulbreech?'

'Maybe,' she said softly, glaring at him. Of course even maybe was an exaggeration; a truer reply would have been, Not yet, but where were you? But Pazel had no right to ask such questions. And Greysan didn't cringe when they kissed.

'I think you got older while I was gone,' he said.

'Only by three days, you blary fool.'

'They must have been Darkling Days,' said Pazel, making her laugh uncomfortably.7

He reached for her again. Thasha stood frozen; Pazel made as if to brush her lips with his fingers. But some kind of doubt overcame him, and he ended up idiotically pressing her nose. He snatched back his hand, gaping like one bereft of speech.

'I drank your blood,' he said at last. 'On Simja, I mean. In the milk.'

Thasha was frustrated almost to despair. 'You are absolutely the weirdest boy I've ever met,' she said. Turning on her heel, she raced back up the ladderway to the topdeck.

Thirty sails, and five hundred frightened men at the ropes, and terrible slow turns when the cliffs seemed close enough to touch — but they were gaining speed, and the mouth of the cove was ever nearer. Already the wind was freshening, the jibsails full and the topgallants tight and straining. Thasha looked at the headland, a black basalt cliff falling straight as a curtain into the sea, and half-expected to see the Jistrolloq appear from behind it, with all her guns run out, and a horde of soldiers crowding her deck. It could happen at any time: Diadrelu had not been very precise about the distance.

Rose was pulling every trick of speed a captain could in a desperate quarter-hour, backing the topsails, sheeting the jibs to windward and leeward with each tack, even firing cannon from the bow so that the recoil might aid the men's efforts at the braces. There was no hope of stealth, after all, not with that spy on the hilltop. With such a mismatch in fighting strength, moreover, the Jistrolloq had to know that they would run. But would they even get the chance?

Pulling herself up the quarterdeck ladder, Thasha found all the senior officers assembled, plus Ott and Chadfallow, and a huge Turach with a broad forehead and cold blue eyes: Drellarek's replacement, she presumed. She could no longer see any ghosts, although Uskins was pale enough to pass for one.

'We'll make it, surely?' he was saying. 'We'll just squeak out?'

'How d'ye expect us to answer you?' said Elkstem irritably. 'We don't know how close she is. We don't even know the windspeed out there.'

'In five minutes we shall,' said Rose.

The men were all clustered around him, between the binnacle and the rail. The captain was the only man not on his feet: he had sent for a stool and his campaign desk, and had them bolted securely to the deck. The stool was finished with some tawny hide, and swivelled; the desk looked like a large wooden box on legs. Then Rose sprung two latches and raised the lid. Inside was a writing space protected by walls on three sides, and half-covered by a wooden canopy. There were small latched drawers, a stack of paper held down by battens, a plotting compass, an abacus and a knife.

Thasha found the sight of that desk alarming, and she saw that some of the officers did as well. Was Rose about to lose himself in paperwork? Just how crazy was he?

The captain began whittling a pencil. 'Attend me,' he said, as if the group would dream of doing anything else. 'This contest may end in minutes, or not for hours, or even days. If it ends swiftly we shall lose. The White Reaper is no idle nickname for the Jistrolloq. Isn't that so, Mr Uskins?'

The first mate nodded. 'Beyond a doubt, Captain. She's a killer and she wants for nothing. An armoured bow, she has, and four ship-shattering bow carronades. And a hundred and forty long guns down each flank.'

'Twice our count,' said Rose, 'and a crew drilled constantly in their use. This ship will be matchwood if the Jistrolloq rakes us with a broadside. And at a distance too they can best us. They'll be better shots, and aiming for a bigger target. They will also be faster, in these waters. Our size is nothing but a hazard, in short, until we find large waves and tearing wind.'

'Those may be close at hand, sir,' put in Alyash.

'Don't interrupt, Bosun!' snapped Fiffengurt. 'The captain's well aware of the conditions.'

'That I am,' said Rose. 'The storm brewing in the east will not be enough, however. Until the wind turns, Bramian herself will tame it. And there are shoals to either side of us, quelling the waves. No, we will not come into our own for two hours at the earliest. Until then we must stay alive. That means fire brigades, and chain-pumps, and any dead removed quickly to the surgical annexe, lest the sight of them demoralise the crew. Uskins, you will restrict Byrd and Tanner to strategic fire until further notice: we don't carry enough shot to waste it in a hopeless spray.

'And give no face but fury to the crew. Fury, gentlemen: not nerves, not reassurance. Let them see nothing but the mortal danger of displeasing you. That will save them from worrying overmuch about the Jistrolloq. Now then, Ott: will the Black Rags strike us with sorcery?'

(Obviously, Rose, whispered a voice from nowhere. Only Thasha and the captain raised their heads.)

'Depend on it,' said Ott. 'They have not brought Sathek's Sceptre all the way from Babqri just to send up a signal-flare.'

'What can they do with the thing? Change the winds?'

There were anxious hisses at the suggestion. But Ott shook his head. 'I haven't a clue,' he said, 'but it was for that sceptre that Arunis killed the Babqri Father.'

'And Kuminzat's daughter, as it happened,' said Rose. 'Have we any other idea of their motives?'

Alyash cleared his throat. 'Captain Rose, the Father never quite believed in the Great Peace. And he had a particular fascination with the Chathrand. We were already in his sights. It may be that he had already shared his suspicions with Kuminzat and the other officers assembled for Treaty Day.'

Rose pursed his lips, as though he found the remark disappointingly simple. After a moment he said, 'Their greatest advantage may be that man on the hilltop. A view to either side of Sandplume could well decide this contest. What has become of your falcon, Mr Ott?'

An expression like none Thasha had ever seen on the man came over the Spymaster's face. It took her a moment to recognise it as sorrow. 'I dispatched Niriviel the morning we landed on Bramian,' he said, 'with orders to return within a day. He flew south into the Nelluroq, looking for sign of the Vortex. I fear he met with some… misfortune.'

Thasha felt stricken. The bird had almost hated her, but it made no difference. There was something beautiful about his loyalty to Sandor Ott. She hated to imagine him alone over the fabled whirlpool, battling the winds, dropping at last into the depths.

'Captain Rose,' she said, forcing herself back to the matter at hand.

'What is it?' he demanded.

'I don't think they can change the winds. In fact I don't think they can use the sceptre well at all, if the Father's dead. Only the most powerful mage-priests can use it safely. But the Father may have used it before he died, to make his sfvantskor stronger, or the ship itself.'

'How in precious Pitfire could you know such things, girl?' scoffed Alyash.

Thasha looked at him evenly. 'I read a lot.'

'What Thasha says stands to reason,' said Chadfallow. 'The priest cannot have meant to set the whole hill on fire, when he was standing atop it. He may even have perished in the blaze.'

Rose turned on his stool. 'First Mate, you spoke with Arunis?'

'Aye, Captain. He's prowling about the jiggermast even now.' Uskins drew a deep breath. 'He was… of little help, sir.'

'No help, you mean?'

'He speculated that the sfvantskors present at the wedding ceremony had all boarded the Jistrolloq, Captain. And he said that the priest wielding Sathek's Sceptre could not fail to sense the presence of the Nilstone.'

Rose looked thoughtful. 'Lieutenant Khalmet,' he said.

The blue-eyed soldier nodded. 'Sir.'

'Do you command the Turachs, now that Drellarek is dead?'

'No, sir. That would be Sergeant Haddismal. The sergeant is inspecting the ranks, and begs your pardon for not attending this meeting himself.'

'He does not have it,' said Rose. 'Tell Haddismal never again to ignore a summons from the captain. And have him redouble the guard on the Shaggat Ness. I don't want the sorcerer taking advantage of our circumstances to make some attempt to reach his king.'

'Oppo, Captain. And if I might venture a thought, sir: release the Tholjassan, Hercol Stanapeth, and let him have his bow. We cannot have too many marksmen.'

'Is that your commander's advice?'

'No, sir, merely my own. Sergeant Haddismal has not ventured an opinion.'

Thasha was stunned by Khalmet's words. Could he be on our side? A Turach, trained to throw his life away at a word from the Emperor?

But the captain shook his head. 'Stanapeth defied my orders, and sent five of your comrades to the surgery. He is not to be freed unless the sfvantskors themselves come over our rails. Do I make myself clear?'

'Perfectly, Captain.'

'Mr Uskins,' said Rose, 'did Arunis have nothing else to say?'

Uskins hesitated. 'Sir, he told me we should drop sail and surrender, before the Reaper cuts us down.'

A brief silence fell. Thasha saw Rose's jaw tighten, and his gaze turn inward. He folded the knife, looked down at the blank paper before him, and suddenly began to sketch.

'Time to change tack,' he said, without looking up.

But everyone else did, and there were shouts and gasps, for they were little more than two ship's lengths from the western cliff. Fiffengurt, Uskins and Alyash flew to the rail, commands exploding from their lips. Elkstem rushed back to his mates at the wheel, and together they wrenched it to starboard, while five hundred backs strained on the deck below. The yards pivoted, the Chathrand heeled over, a frothy wake boiled along the starboard bow, and they cleared the point with ten yards to spare.

From the main-top a voice shouted, 'We're free, we're free!' And like a slap of reprimand the full west wind struck the foremast and carried both topgallants away.

'Clew up! Save the rest!' screamed Alyash. They were out of the cove, and the wind was four times the strength of a moment ago: too strong for the highest canvas, though the topsails could take it with ease, and the mains looked flaccid yet. Alyash cringed like a man tied and waiting for the whip: Rose had warned him about those topgallants. But the captain merely spun around and gave Elkstem the new heading, and told Chadfallow he might return to his surgery.

The next turn was effortless, for the wind shouldered them about. In seconds they were running east, skimming across the mouth of the cove that had nearly become their graveyard. Thasha looked down at the throng of sailors, snatching a moment's rest, and was not surprised to see Neeps joining the line-up on a starboard brace. Nobody's turning down his help today, she thought.

Then the lookout began to howl: 'Sail! Dead astern three miles! It's the enemy, Captain, I can see the red stars!'

A general groan, shouted down at once by the officers. Rose leaped from the stool and barrelled aft around the wheelhouse, extending his telescope as he went. Thasha chased after him. There was the Jistrolloq, tilted over like a white gravestone, slicing a neat white wake as she ran.

'Her topgallants are holding, blast her,' said Elkstem. 'By the Tree, she's a formidable ship. And closer to two miles than three.'

Rose lifted a hand for silence. A moment later he lowered the scope.

'She will have four knots on us,' he said, in a voice not meant to carry.

Thasha did not want to believe it. 'Four? That would let them catch us in — what? Less than an hour?'

'Thirty-seven minutes,' said Rose. 'Mr Elkstem, at my command we shall be making a very sharp tack to the south. A very visible tack. But give no orders before my mark, do you hear? Don't even look at the men.'

Elkstem was clearly mystified, but Rose's face ruled out any questioning. 'Oppo, sir, she'll corner handsomely,' he said.

'You wanted to see me, Captain?' said a voice from behind them.

It was Pazel. He was looking at Rose, and quite determinedly not at Thasha.

Rose's eye did not leave the telescope. 'Aye, Pathkendle, but only to keep these grackle-mouths quiet. They have you mixed up with your father, and seem to think I need Captain Gregory's advice.'

' "They," sir?'

Rose only frowned, and Thasha, ignoring Pazel's awkwardness, took his arm and tugged him aside. 'He's seeing ghosts,' she whispered. 'But he's not crazy, they're real. I can see them too. They're the old captains of the Chathrand.'

Pazel was certainly looking at her now. ' You're seeing these things?'

'Well, not this minute. Rose can scatter them, I think, but they keep coming back. Like flies. Right now I can hear them, and feel them. And this isn't the first time it's happened.'

'Are you talking about what happened the day you found Marila?'

Thasha shook her head. 'That was different. Those were real people, flesh and blood. But for weeks now I've been feeling… strange. As if people were surrounding me, when there was no one there at all. I think it was them, Pazel. I think they've been watching me.'

Pazel stared at her, aghast, but was he concerned for her safety or her sanity? She was on the point of asking him directly when Rose gave a startled grunt.

'The priest did not die,' he said, 'but the fire has driven him from the hilltop. He's watching us right now. He'll be blind to his own ship's whereabouts, though, unless that thing in his hand lets him see through solid rock. Ehiji, what's this? He's got friends! Sfvantskors, by the gods, sfvantskors coming out of the bush!'

Thasha could just make them out: three tall figures in black, rushing across the smouldering slope to join a fourth, bald-headed, with a long golden object in his hand. Even as she looked another sfvantskor emerged running from the trees.

'That new one has a longbow,' said Rose. 'And damned if he isn't — firing! Aloft! Take cover aloft!'

Scarcely had the words left his lips when they heard a wail, sharp and ethereal, and then a man's scream from the rigging. Thasha looked up and saw Kiprin Pondrakeri, the muscular Simjan recruit, face down in the battle netting with an arrow in his chest. The strange wail continued for a moment, then lowered and died.

The next thing she knew Pazel had leaped on her and borne her down onto the deck. The air was suddenly full of the wailing noises, and from the spankermast came another cry of agony. Thasha struggled out of Pazel's grasp and got to her hands and knees. But even as she did so a boot kicked her flat again.

Sandor Ott had delivered the kick as he dashed to the rail with a great bow of his own. He fired in a blur, once twice thrice, and then he lowered the bow and took a breath.

'Done,' he said. 'That one will shoot no more, and the rest are running for cover. You can stand up now, lass.'

As Thasha and Pazel rose, Ott reached up and seized the dripping end of the arrow embedded in Pondrakeri's chest. He pulled, and the netting sagged, but the shaft would not let go of the corpse.

'Singing arrows,' he said admiringly. 'We still don't know how they work — must be expensive, however; they fire 'em all in the first few volleys. Marvellous way to demoralise an enemy.'

He released the arrow, having not glanced once at the dead man, and set off smiling for the topdeck.

'He's enjoying this,' said Thasha. 'I think he lives for fighting and killing, the beast.'

'He doesn't enjoy it,' said Pazel. 'He's… addicted. It's not the same thing.'

Thasha gave him a sceptical look. 'How do you know so much? Did you and Sandor have a heart-to-heart chat on Bramian?'

Pazel watched the spymaster swing down the ladder. 'Sort of,' he said.

A pool of blood was forming under the dead man. Thasha looked up and saw the other victim, a mizzen topman, dangling upside-down from the rigging some seventy feet overhead.

'We're making twelve knots by the log, sir,' cried a lieutenant.

'Send for a bucket, Mr Truel,' said Rose. 'And you, Pathkendle: find a mate and get these cadavers below.'

Pazel gazed wordlessly up at the bodies. The topman was swinging perilously. Blood streamed from the arrow in his throat to his fingertips, where the wind licked it away.

Thasha took a deep breath. 'I'll help you,' she said.

Pazel looked intensely relieved. He could not, after all, order anyone to help him. 'Let me fetch a rope. I'll be right back — thank you, Thasha.'

When he returned he brought Neeps as well as a rope. The small boy was fidgeting with irritation; he and Pazel scarcely looked at one another. But he had come nonetheless. The three scaled the shrouds, and Neeps continued up to the main spankermast yard while Thasha and Pazel stepped gingerly onto the netting. It was a long crawl to where Pondrakeri dangled. They had almost reached him when Thasha saw Rose's hand sweep down like a signal flag.

'Now, Mr Elkstem!'

'Haul away starboard!' boomed Elkstem, putting his weight on the wheel. 'Look sharp, lads, we're turning on a mussel tin!'

The order raced forward, the deckhands threw their shoulders against the ropes, and with startling speed the Great Ship heeled around to the south.

Thasha and Pazel clung to the netting as the huge timbers groaned and squeaked, and blood from the topman spattered around them like rain. Thasha looked west at the Jistrolloq. 'What are you hoping they'll do, Captain Rose?' she called.

Rose lowered the telescope, watching the enemy with his naked eye. 'They've just done it,' he said, 'and I didn't need to hope.'

Before Thasha could ask what he meant, the lookout cried: 'Black Rags altering course, sir, due south, matching us point-for-point.'

Rose favoured Thasha with a glance. 'Admiral Kuminzat knows what he's up against,' he said. 'Unless he has the gods' own luck with weather, he has to take us soon. Every mile we can run out on the Nelluroq plays to our advantage. He's turned south to cut us off.'

'Around the far side of the island,' said Pazel. 'And you waited until he was almost on top of Sandplume, so that he'd have to make a hasty choice, didn't you?'

'A hasty choice and a bad one, Pathkendle. Maybe you do know something.'

Thasha could hear the ghosts whispering approval. In minutes Sandplume would hide the Chathrand from the Jistrolloq, and then Rose could turn as he liked without giving their course away. For the Mzithrinis, reversing direction was impossible: they would lose a good hour tacking against the wind just to get safely clear of Sandplume and back on the course she had abandoned. She could only run south now, and take up the pursuit after rounding the isle — but Thasha doubted that the Chathrand would be anywhere near Sandplume by then.

High above, Neeps fed the line through a wheelblock, then tugged it through yard by yard. When it reached them, Pazel leaned out and snatched the rope, and clinging to the spar with his legs alone, tied a slipknot. Together he and Thasha eased the loop over Pondrakeri's head and arms, struggling to keep him from toppling to the deck.

As she heaved at the dead man, Thasha kept one eye on Rose. Now and then the air about him seemed to flicker, as if unseen hands were gesturing and pointing, but Rose paid no attention to the apparitions. Instead he turned from the rail and shouted:

'Hard to port, Sailmaster! East by south-east!'

'Hard to port! Haul away port!'

The frantic struggle on the deck began again, and in a matter of seconds they were back on their old eastward course.

'Brilliant,' said Pazel with grudging admiration. 'We'll gain miles on 'em this way. But there's nowhere else to hide, now that we're leaving the islands. And hours of daylight yet. Sooner or later we'll have to run south again, if Rose plans to escape into the Ruling Sea.'

'We may not escape even there,' said Thasha. 'The Jistrolloq's braved the Nelluroq before. She's too small to cross it, but she can handle the margins. The huge waves are mostly farther out.'

Pazel was gaping at her. 'How do you know all that, Thasha?'

She blinked at him, startled. 'The Polylex?' she said, uncertain.

Pazel shook his head in wonder. He tied off the extra rope around Pondrakeri's legs.

On a impulse, Thasha asked him, 'How did Drellarek die? Was it the creature who breathed on you?'

Pazel's face paled. He looked suddenly as though he was going to be sick. He nodded, breathing hard.

'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I shouldn't have asked.'

Pazel made no reply. His eyes had slid to the quarterdeck. Thasha followed his gaze and saw Lady Oggosk directly below, watching them keenly.

Pazel turned his back on Thasha. 'We've got a job to finish,' he said coldly, 'that is, if you really came to help.'

They hoisted Pondrakeri from the netting like a drowned man, and guided him, swaying and spinning, over the rail and down to the main deck. The topman was far more difficult. At seventy feet the mast pitched enormously, and at the end of each pendular swing they looked down from the ropes not on the quarterdeck but on the churning ocean. Thasha found herself mouthing prayers from the Lorg School, and was glad when the practised hands of the ex-tarboys shot out to steady her. The hands of the topman were scarlet, slippery as eels. By the time they had him down on the deck the three youths were painted with blood from face to calves. As she and Pazel wrestled the bodies down to the surgical annexe (Neeps had stayed behind to scrub the quarterdeck) Thasha had to fight the urge to vomit. The smell of blood — a rank stench of rust and wet clay — was overpowering. Flies bit her sticky arms and sweaty face.

They laid the bodies side by side. Pazel forced out a laugh — a bitter laugh, almost cruel, like nothing she'd ever heard from his lips. 'Wonder how much company they'll have before the day's done,' he said, smiling, clenching his fists.

'Let's just get out of here,' said Thasha.

They sat on the lower gun deck near Tanner's gunnery team, a tub of seawater between them, and scrubbed off the worst of the blood with rags. Thasha watched Pazel peel off his gory shirt and dunk it in the tub, where the water was already pink. What's wrong with you? she wanted to scream. Why've you gone so blary hateful? Then she saw that Pazel's eyes were moist.

'What was his name?' he said. 'The topman, I mean. Nobody on the quarterdeck even knew his name.'

They parted at the compartment door, and Thasha went to the stateroom to change. The guard outside the stateroom, curiously enough, had been withdrawn; and as she ran to the door Thasha let herself hope that Hercol had been set free as well. But her tutor was not in the stateroom — no one was, in fact, except Jorl and Suzyt, padding the bare boards in a room where everything that could not be bolted down had been stowed.

'Get off, idiots,' she said as they jumped on her. She locked the door and called out softly for Diadrelu. 'I'm alone,' she said. 'Where have you gone?'

'Here,' came a faint voice from the washroom.

Thasha opened the door. On the footstool sat Dri, washed and clothed in a new shirt of black silk. She held up her hand, stopping Thasha in the doorway, and turned to face the cast-iron bathtub.

'Ensyl,' she said, 'you have nothing to fear from Lady Thasha.'

Thasha tensed. From behind the bathtub stepped another ixchel, a thin young woman with a large forehead and wide, watchful eyes. She was heavily armed — sword, dagger, bow — and barefoot, as Dri always was. The woman's lips moved as if in speech, but Thasha could hear no sound.

'Bend your voice,' Diadrelu told her. To Thasha, she said, 'Ensyl is my sophister — my apprentice, if you like. She is here to be sure I behave like an invalid.'

'My lady must not make sport of me,' said the girl, who had not taken her eyes from Thasha. Her whole face clenched as she spoke; she did not appear to have much practice in pitching her voice to the human register.

'Nor shall I ever,' said Diadrelu. 'What is more, I applaud your choice. For you have made a very serious choice, you know. You are only the third ixchel on the Chathrand to show herself to a human. I am another; and the third is Taliktrum himself, who has since forbidden contact with humans under any circumstances, on pain of death.'

'I wanted to see you,' said Ensyl to Thasha. 'Some of my people have notions about you. They believe you will be the doom of this ship. Even today Lord Taliktrum's attendant Myett spoke of you as one bewitched. But Lady Dri is my only mistress, and if she tells me I have nothing to fear, then I fear not.'

'I said you need not fear Thasha,' corrected Dri. 'We may all have something to fear from lies and superstitions — to say nothing of cannon-fire. How goes the chase, Lady Thasha?'

'We gained a little time,' said Thasha, with a nervous glance at the window, 'but not enough to escape the Jistrolloq. Arunis said we should surrender before they kill us all.'

'Arunis still dreams of Sathek's Sceptre,' said Diadrelu. 'Our watch saw him looking from the gunports at the red flame on Sandplume, with a hunger so great one could all but smell it. Surrender, I think, would just be a means of bringing the sceptre within his reach. Its power is surely slight compared to that of the Nilstone — but he has no means of using the Nilstone, yet. He failed with the Shaggat, and again on Dhola's Rib. Now I begin to wonder if there might be a connection between the sceptre and the Stone.'

'What sort of connection?' asked Thasha warily.

Dri closed her eyes. 'When Arunis called up Sathek's ghost, he said, "I must have it for my king." And something else: "Imagine him when the Swarm returns. The Nilstone in one fist, your sceptre in the other. Armies shall wilt before him, like petals in the frost." ' She opened her eyes. 'Arunis literally dares not touch the Nilstone. But when a poker in the fire is too hot to touch, what do we do?'

'We use a glove,' said Ensyl.

'Yes,' said Dri, 'and what if the sceptre is that glove? The Nilstone, as we learned, slays any with fear in their hearts. What if fearlessness is just what the sceptre can provide?'

Thasha drew a shaky breath. 'His precious king is still just a rock,' she said.

'That too the sceptre might reverse,' said Dri, 'once it is in the hands of a sorcerer. But enough of speculation for the moment. Thasha, where is Felthrup?'

Thasha was suddenly alarmed. 'Hasn't he come back?'

Dri shook her head. 'Felthrup completed his mission splendidly. Thanks to him, Ensyl came for the swallow-suit, and our people escaped Sandplume before the fire could overtake them. But what became of Felthrup after he delivered the message I cannot say. I hoped he had found his way to you, somehow. Marila has gone in search of him, although the odds are against one girl finding one lost rat on the largest ship in Alifros.'

'We've got to!' said Thasha. 'He isn't safe anywhere but the stateroom. Oh Pitfire, why did they let him go? Neeps or Marila could have gone instead!'

'And shouted at an empty corner of the mercy deck? No, Thasha, Neeps and Marila would have been stopped and questioned, and their faces would have given us all away. But you are right about the danger to Felthrup. Master Mugstur has excommunicated him, and in the rat-king's twisted ethos those who stray from Rin's path must all be killed.'

'I'm going to look for him too,' said Thasha. 'I'll take Suzyt and Jorl; they know his scent. Rose will throw a fit, though, if I don't hurry back to the quarterdeck.'

'We ixchel should do the searching,' said Diadrelu. 'We can enter the rat-spaces no human eye can pierce. Ensyl, go to Night Village. I do not have much hope that Taliktrum will listen to you, but you must try. Invoke the honour of the clan. Perhaps he will concede to a party of volunteers.

'As for me, Lady Thasha, I throw myself on your hospitality. There is no home for me among my people: indeed they are under edict to slay me, "before I further endanger the clan." '

'That edict will be lifted,' said Ensyl hotly.

Diadrelu shook her head. 'Some things cannot be undone. I have disobeyed the clan leader in a moment of crisis, and Taliktrum has drawn family blood.'

'Wait and see, mistress,' said Ensyl. 'In time they will beg you to return.'

She glanced once more at Thasha, then turned and vanished behind the bathtub.

'We have a trapdoor there,' said Diadrelu.

'I can't say I'm glad to hear it,' said Thasha. 'Oh, I'm happy that you and Ensyl can come and go. But it proves there's a gap in the magic wall. Could it be getting larger? What if it's about to fail?'

Suddenly a cry arose on the topdeck: 'Sail ho! Jistrolloq at eight miles!'

'They've rounded Sandplume!' said Thasha. 'By the Tree, that was fast! I've got to get up there — although helping Rose is the last thing I feel like doing.'

'Help him,' said Diadrelu firmly. 'You have little hope of finding Felthrup, even with your dogs. And there will be no point in finding him if the White Reaper blasts us to pieces.'

Rose did need her help, for when she returned there were no less than seven ghost-captains upon the quarterdeck, flickering in and out of existence. Three were dogging Rose's heels, arguing over tactics in voices laced with sarcasm and antique slang. Another, an ugly, woolly-bearded giant with a naked cutlass in his hand, stood growling and threatening near the wheelhouse, his eyes on an oblivious Alyash. The others milled about the deck, hectoring the living despite the fact that only Rose had any notion of their presence.

Thasha had her orders, but it was hard to face a deck full of ghosts, every one of which had commanded the ship from this very spot. Nor did she relish talking to thin air in front of Elkstem, Alyash and the half-dozen others crowding the quarterdeck. That's why he needs me to do it, she thought, to keep him from looking a perfect lunatic.

'My heart's in the heavens,' she sang out boldly, climbing the ladder, 'my soul is the Tree, my dance is for ever, I fear not thee!'

The ghosts all turned to face her, and the cutlass-wielding giant, who was nearest, simply faded away. The others scattered about the deck, looking startled and irritated. Thasha was startled as well: the Lorg School chant had been far less effective against the wraiths in the Crab Fens.

'Very, uh, good, Missy,' said Alyash, obviously confused. 'We're not afraid of them Black Rags, are we?'

Thasha shot him a piercing look. You're one yourself, you liar.

Whether the chant or something else altogether had affected them, the remaining ghosts did not want to be anywhere near her. Confident now, Thasha pursued them around the mast and the wheelhouse. They dodged and scurried; it was a bit like playing tag. One by one they vanished from her sight. But as the last captain faded, he pointed at her with a long, blackened nail. 'Tonight,' he said, and was gone.

For some time afterwards she had little to do but watch the chase. It was worse than being busy, even with gruesome tasks. Rose turned them south; the Jistrolloq tacked instantly to a diagonal intercept, and Rose had no option but to set them east again. The wind was dying, which played into the enemy's hands. By mid-afternoon just six miles separated the ships.

Pazel, skulking behind the wheelhouse, would not look at her. Fine, she thought, go boil yourself in the Pits. But more than once she had the feeling he was watching her, though she never quite caught him in the act.

Rose spent much of this time at his campaign desk, his back to the Jistrolloq, sketching. When Thasha sidled close enough for a glance she saw a page covered with tiny pencilled numbers, long arrows, rough outlines of hulls.

At four bells he stood and latched the desk shut. 'Come, Thasha, Pathkendle. We shall dine in my cabin. Mr Elkstem, I will have updates by speaking-tube.'

Thasha and Pazel followed Rose down the ladder. They did not go immediately to the cabin, however, but walked the whole length of the Chathrand, squeezing through the busy mass of men. Thasha thought the sailors looked as frightened as any crowd she had ever been among, but as Rose passed with a smouldering gaze each man seemed to concentrate just a bit harder on his task, as if those eyes could strip away distractions like a knife stripping bark from a switch. On their return Rose paused here and there to murmur to the watch-captains, and behind their backs Thasha heard the officers shouting: 'Captain Rose is formidable proud of you, lads! Says you're the picture of an Imperial crew! His very words!'

She glanced over her shoulder, slightly awed. Rose's casual manner was doing wonders to keep the sailors calm, and the compliments, which he never gave in easy times, were bringing smiles to their faces. Crazy or not, she thought, he's blary good at what he does.

Lady Oggosk joined them at table. Pazel visibly stiffened at the sight of her — and also, it appeared, at being once more in Rose's cabin. He was glancing about with a savaged expression, and Thasha reflected again that she knew almost nothing of what had been done to Pazel since the Turachs dragged him away.

'Something new in here since your last visit, Pathkendle,' said Rose, striding forwards. 'Which of you can tell me what these are?'

Ranged along the gallery windows were four stout, wide-mouthed cannon, their carriages tightly lashed to the deck. Behind them, bolted rigid as a mast, stood a long wooden rack about three feet high, and dangling from the rack were twenty or thirty canvas sacks, each one ending in a small iron disc. The sacks were about the size of hams, and bulged as if filled with giant marbles.

'They're grapeshot guns,' said Thasha.

'Not much use against an armoured hull, are they?' Pazel added.

Rose looked sternly at the two youths, and made no answer. 'Let us sit down,' he said at last.

During the meal they spoke very little. The steward poured four glasses of cloudy wine. Rose ate like a horse at a feed-bag, eyes downcast, jaw working non-stop. Lady Oggosk mashed her food with her fingers, while her red cat snored peacefully in a spot of sun.

All the while the Jistrolloq was plainly visible through the gallery windows. By the time they finished eating she was within three miles.

'Tell us, Pathkendle,' said Rose suddenly, 'what would your father do in these circumstances, if he were in command?'

Pazel was taken aback. 'I don't know,' he said. 'Edge his way south, maybe. Look for higher seas.'

'You misunderstand the question,' said Rose. 'I meant, what would Captain Gregory do if he commanded the Jistrolloq, and wanted to take us? He must have learned to think like a Black Rag, after serving with them for years. And of course your presence on Chathrand would present no obstacle. Gregory sailed away from Cape Coristel without a backward glance at you, didn't he? And we know he doesn't shrink from firing on his kin.'

Pazel had spent almost six years as a bonded servant, and five months under Captain Rose. He was not, Thasha knew, particularly easy to shock. But the brutality of Rose's offhand comment slipped past his defences. His eyes widened, and a spasm of anger twisted his face.

Under the table, Thasha furtively touched his hand. Pazel was on the verge of doing something drastic, something Neeps-like: overturning the table, or cursing Rose at the top of his lungs. But at her touch he managed to check himself, bite back the words trying to detonate on his tongue.

'Well,' he said, breathing hard, 'let's see. I suppose he might think back on what he knows about the enemy — about you, in other words. He might say to himself, "Right, here's this old shifty captain who's famous for his nastiness-" '

Rose lifted an eyebrow.

'"-and his greed, and for being afraid of a shipboard cat, and for the fact that he writes letters to-" '

'Silence, bastard!' shrieked Lady Oggosk, rising from her chair and pointing at Pazel. 'Never, never was there a lowborn with such a reckless tongue! Walk out of here, you insolent Ormali gutter-dog, before the captain has you-'

'Peace!' Rose slammed his palm against the table. 'Lady Oggosk, your defence is unnecessary. Pathkendle remains confused, no more. Look out that window, lad, and your confusion will evaporate.'

Rose turned and gestured at the Jistrolloq, bright white in the sun and near enough now to count the seven falling stars on her forecourse. 'There stands a man, Kuminzat, who's crossed half the known world in our pursuit. Ott tells me that his daughter was a sfvantskor, or soon to be, and that she was killed by the incubus Arunis hurled at their old priest.'

'You knew.' Thasha sat up, eyes widening with anger. 'You knew about the incubus. You knew what the Sizzies accused us of was true, and denied it to their faces.'

'Very little occurs on the Great Ship that we don't know,' said Oggosk. 'You ought to keep that in mind, both of you.'

Thasha turned on her, bristling. 'Care to prove it?' she said. 'Can you tell me what Arunis has been doing while the Jistrolloq closes in? Or why he wants that sceptre almost as badly as the Nilstone? Or which of the crew might be spying on you for Sandor Ott?'

The old woman actually looked somewhat cowed. She dropped her eyes, as though Thasha's gaze was too sharp for her liking. 'I might if you gave me a reason,' she muttered uneasily.

'We are straying from the matter at hand,' said Rose. 'Pathkendle, what do you say to my challenge? Neither you nor I know that admiral's character. I have been substituting other men for him in my mind, and asking myself what each would do if he commanded the Jistrolloq. I would know what you think. Answer me, if you've a tenth the craftiness Rin gave your father. I have no more time to waste.'

Pazel's hand was tight on Thasha's own. 'Your question is a waste of time,' he said at last. 'I never sailed with my father. I don't know what skills he used, or what tactics.'

'Then leave tactics to me. What would Gregory have felt like? What would make him chase another vessel from Simja right down to the margins of the Ruling Sea?'

Pazel made as if to speak, then once again held his tongue. Rose smiled and shook his head.

'Not gold. If riches were his aim he could have sold his services to any number of lawless barons in the Rekere or the Crownless Lands, and become rich indeed. And not the rescue of his son. What's left? What would drive the resourceful Captain Gregory to do as Kuminzat's done, hazarding his very life and that of his crew?'

Pazel's grip on her hand was painful now, and a new fury shone in his eyes. 'Nothing, all right?' he said at last. 'Absolutely nothing would make my father go to so much trouble. He's as selfish as you.'

Rose shook his head, as if in wonder. 'From his own boy's mouth,' he said. 'Well now: that is good news. We can count on one hand the things a man will kill for. Love, lust, gold, honour, tribe: the raw ingredients of power. Ninety-nine men in a hundred will quickly show you which of these enslaves them. A ferocity lights 'em up when they're pursuing it, and there's no mistaking that look. All the trouble comes from the mystery man — that one man in a hundred who can keep his motives out of sight. Men like Gregory, you see.'

'And Admiral Kuminzat,' said Thasha.

'You have it, lass,' said Rose. 'Though my predecessors will keep babbling their theories. How I wish they'd shut up!'

He said the last words in a sudden fury, knocking his fists against his temples. Thasha averted her eyes. It was then that she noticed Lady Oggosk was staring at her — and also realised that she, Thasha, had shed a few silent tears. They were for Pazel, she supposed, and for herself, and the murdered topman, and the shame of so much wanting — love, lust, gold — but why did Oggosk look so enraged? The witch's eyes flickered down along Thasha's arm, extended subtly towards Pazel's lap, and Thasha knew she guessed that they were holding hands.

What's it to you, you hag?

Pazel too noticed Oggosk's look. With a start he pulled his hand away. Thasha turned and found him glaring at her. When he spoke it was against some deep resistance, as if he had to wring the words out of himself. But the words were lacerating.

'If I need pity I'll let you know,' he said. 'Meanwhile keep it to yourself. I'm — tired of this, see? Tired of being your charity case.'

'My what?'

'You think I'm dying for your attention. Like an Ormali should be, when a highborn Arquali girl stoops to help him, I guess. And you can spare me that wounded face. There's plenty aboard who'll be happy to tell you how special you are. Cross me off your list, that's all — leave me alone.'

He gave her a look that was almost deranged, then turned to Rose. 'As for your question, Captain Sir: you really ought to be asking Thasha, not me. She's good with tactics. But I'll tell you right now: ghosts or no ghosts, there's something wrong with a man who sits here tormenting people, just because he's realised that he can't outrun his enemy. That's cowardice, that is. Not that you'll ever admit it.'

No one at the table breathed. Thasha tensed herself for the fight of her life. Pazel had gone mad, Rose and Oggosk already were, and any sort of violence seemed possible. She'd lost her knife, she'd have to use things on the table, the serving fork, a shard of a plateThen Rose did the last thing on earth she expected. He laughed. A smile grew in the red thicket of his beard, looking like something transplanted from a merrier man. 'Outrun,' he said. 'Outrun.'

He raised his eyes to the skylight above the table, and the laugh grew until his great bulk fairly shook with mirth. And as he finished laughing the room suddenly darkened, for a heavy cloud had eclipsed the sun. At almost the same moment, on the quarterdeck, Mr Fiffengurt began to shout:

'Wind's turning! The wind's turning right about! Inform the captain, that's a north-easter blowin' in!'

A great commotion began overhead, and Rose put his hands on the table and heaved to his feet. Lumbering to his desk, wine in hand, he flipped open a speaking-tube and bellowed:

'South south-east, Mr Elkstem, and all the sail she'll bear. Full crews to their guns. I'm on my way.'

He drank the wine in a gulp and wiped his mouth.

'Back to the quarterdeck, Lady Thasha. And you, Pathkendle: stick to your schoolbooks; there's not a drop of sailor's blood in you. Have you forgotten that we must let no one set eyes on the Chathrand and live? I never spoke of escaping the Black Rags; the only question is how best to destroy them.'