Lioness of Kell

by Paul E. Horsman

  ‘Yes, Captain, aye, aye.’ The midshipman stood beside the quartermaster and seemed about to fall asleep. Now he straightened hastily and opened his eyes wide.

  ‘I see.’ It was a lie; Yarwan knew the boy had just spent four hours on watch, on top of the aftereffects of the storm. But it was a noble lie. ‘Then give them a hail, Mister Lannard.’

  ‘Ahoy, the fishing ship,’ the boy cried in a warbling voice. ‘What is your business?’

  Over the water came the answer. ‘I’m out of Seatome. If you’re Chorwaynie, I carry a message for you.’

  Lannard shot his captain a questioning look and Yarwan nodded. ‘Give our identity.’

  ‘This is the Chorwaynie Merchant Marine ship Magonaut, Captain Yarwan commanding,’ the midshipman called.

  ‘You are the one I seek, then. I have a countryman of yours on board who wants a word with you.’

  ‘Send him over,’ Yarwan shouted. ‘But no foolishness; our archeresses never miss.’

  The voice laughed. ‘I’m a fisherman, Captain; not a sea soldier. I’m coming alongside.’

  ‘Mister Lannard, go get the visitor,’ Yarwan said.

  ‘Aye aye, Captain.’ The little midshipman saluted and ran toward the companion ladder.

  ‘Walk!’ Yarwan roared.

  The boy jumped and slowed his speed to a dignified crawl.

  Yarwan sighed. ‘He knew a suitable midshipman, the Overcaptain said. Suitable! That boy’s a babe.’

  Elhir hid a smile. Midshipman Lannard of Towne-Fastness was fourteen years old, but the gods had given him a mousy face and even for a Chorwaynie a small, scrawny body. Still, his father was a rich merchant and a councilor. The connection could only be favorable.

  ‘He’ll grow,’ she said. ‘At least he’s willing enough.’

  A few minutes later, a head appeared at the gangway, and a bone-thin Chorwaynie stepped on board. He was a seaman, wearing the short jacket of a petty officer that looked far too large for him. He saluted the quarterdeck and stood at attention as the midshipman addressed him.

  When Lannard returned with the man, Yarwan was shocked by the visitor’s appearance. His hair was long, yet he didn’t wear it in the customary pigtail. His face was hollow, the skin taut and gray and the salute he gave was shaky.

  ‘Zalim, former wandin of the brig Witch of Pukkut, out of Towne,’ he said, sounding exhausted.

  The brig’s name was unfamiliar to Yarwan, but his first mate nodded. ‘One of Hinguy’s pirate vessels.’

  The wandin bowed to Elhir. ‘Yes, ma’am. The noble Hinguy is our owner. Six months ago, we sailed with orders to contact a certain gentleman in Seatome. We entered harbor, well received by the locals, and moored at the one usable mole, behind two dhows. A messenger came to tell the captain our contact was out of town, but would arrive the next day. That night, soldiers boarded us and took the ship. They arrested our officers, locked us up in an empty barracks and for several days we heard and saw no one. Then, a lieutenant from the castle came and told us we were prisoners. The gentleman we were supposed to meet had denounced us. Why?’ The wandin shrugged. ‘Perhaps noble Hinguy’s proposals were rebuffed. Was it trade, or something more illegal? It wasn’t our position to know.’ He looked at Yarwan, his eyes unreadable. ‘We never saw our officers back alive. And that same day they put us to work, repairing the castle defenses.’ For a moment, he was silent. ‘The fisher who took me here is a friend. A local Vanhaari. I spoke with him several times and he has a great hatred for the Unwaari. This morning he told me of a ship sighted, sailing under Chorwaynie flag. I managed to sneak away after the morning musters and we sailed to meet you. I ... promised him you would pay a small sum for his aid, Captain.’

  ‘You did? You’re not afraid of taking risks, are you?’ Yarwan said. ‘Very well, I’ll see he gets his money. How do your men fare?’

  ‘Badly, Captain. Lack of food, little water, no sanitation, I’m afraid we’re dying. That’s why I dared to gamble. We have nothing to lose.’

  Yarwan frowned. ‘You are Hinguy’s men. His company was never my friend. What do you want of me?’

  The wandin looked unhappy at the direct question. ‘The men have a most humble request, Captain. We ...’ He hesitated as if unsure how to proceed.

  Behind him, Yarwan heard Elhir cough, and he moved his shoulders. I know what he wants, he thought, irritated. I must free them. ‘In what condition is the Witch?’

  ‘She will be seaworthy. We see her every day, Captain; she’s berthed opposite the building they keep us in. Those buggers left her rigged, so I fear for the ropes and the sails. Luckily, she carries a full set of replacements.’ He hesitated. ‘I’m sure Master Merchant Hinguy will pay well to have her back.’

  At this, Yarwan’s face became grim. ‘The High Merchantry hanged Hinguy two months ago for attempted murder of the Overcaptain’s daughter. His son is in prison and his company closed down.’

  The wandin reeled. ‘Hinguy hanged? Then we’re lost. No ship, no captain, no company. We are dead men.’ He hung his head. ‘Your pardon, Captain. Permit me to return to the fishing boat; I will tell the others.’

  Yarwan turned and saw Elhir’s shocked face. ‘You think I’d abandon them, First Mate? How well don’t you know me. Have the bos’n take over your watch. I want you and Jorlok in my cabin right away. You too, Zalim.’ He strode to his cabin, wrestling with his anger.

  When the others joined him, he motioned for them to sit. ‘I too am a Jentakan, Zalim,’ he said. And to the hells with those who won’t accept it. ‘My mother is from Maiwar. I’ll not leave my people to rot in prison. What can you tell me of the harbor?’

  The wandin stared at him, hardly believing. ‘A Jentakan captain?’ His hands fluttered. ‘It’s Kallianura’s design. The harbor. I asked the fishers who brought me here, Captain. With that and what I’ve seen, I could draw you a map.’

  Without a word, Yarwan produced pen and paper. The wandin sketched with broad strokes. ‘Here is the mole, and here the quay. Further down, there are more quays, but this is the only one in use. Much of the town is ruined, you see, and no ships come here anymore.’ He looked up. ‘But we believe they do expect one, Captain. Our captors sometimes laugh at us and warn us our life will change when the blue ship comes.’ He shrugged. ‘It can’t get much worse.’

  ‘This is their blue ship,’ Yarwan said. ‘We captured her near Maiwar.’

  ‘I thought there would be but one blue steam sloop around, Captain,’ Zalim said. ‘You have hit them very hard, then.’

  ‘I plan to hit them even harder. Tell me all you know of the town. Its defenses, layout, everything.’

  Noon saw the Magonaut sailing toward Seatome harbor, under topsails alone and with her teeth showing. From the sea, it was clear how much of a ruin the town was. Portions of the walls had tumbled down, blocking two sections of the harbor. Rotting masts sticking from the water told where ships had foundered.

  ‘It would take a lot of explosives to clear all that,’ Jorlok said. ‘A pity; it’s such a fine harbor.’

  Yarwan had to agree with him. Seatome was a handsome place; large and well protected against the weather.

  ‘The battery on the mole is manned,’ Zalim said. He stood with Yarwan and his officers on the quarterdeck. He pointed at a round, stone building carrying a ragged flag. ‘They keep a tenman’s watch there. I don’t know what caliber guns.’

  Yarwan nodded. ‘And those two ships beyond?’

  ‘The dhows. They seldom sail, Captain. There’s a watch aboard one of them, that’s all.’

  ‘So the castle alone remains an unknown factor.’ Yarwan stared at the dark shape of the ancient citadel overlooking the harbor.

  ‘Yes, Captain. In those six months we’ve been here, I’ve never heard it fire a shot. Not even once, Captain.’

  ‘I hope that means they can’t,’ Yarwan said. ‘Otherwise it will become very hot very soon.’ He turned around and his eyes fell on the little midshipman. ‘Mister Lanna
rd.’

  The boy came to attention. ‘Captain, sir?’

  ‘I want you to collect a gunner’s mate and six sailors. Then go to the one in command of the battery over there. Tell him to surrender. Warn him that if he doesn’t, our 32-pounders will shoot his battery off the mole. When he does, leave the gunner’s mate in charge of the battery. You yourself will return with the prisoners and report to me. Got that?’

  ‘Aye aye, Captain.’ The midshipman’s face was a study in conflicting emotions. Then he saluted again. ‘Er, thank you, Captain.’ He hurried to the gangway, shouting for a gunner’s mate and his men. Minutes later, the ship’s boat set course for the mole.

  Yarwan followed his progress through his telescope.

  ‘I hope that Zalim is right about their morale, Captain,’ Elhir said beside him.

  ‘Those fellows would be foolish to resist with a row of 32-pounders pointing at them. We could blast their battery to pieces if they proved troublesome.’

  Yarwan watched the little boat reach the mole. The small figure of the midshipman with the gunner’s mate and the others behind him marched to the door. Someone opened it, and the boy gestured, waving his hands and pointing toward the Magonaut. Yarwan’s chest felt tight with strain. He’d sent the boy because it was a midshipman’s duty, but it would take one maniac in that battery and the child would be dead. Damn, what are they discussing? It’s a simple surrender, that shouldn’t take hours! Then he saw a row of men come out of the building and walk to the ship’s boat. Lannard waved his pathetic dirk at them, while the gunner’s mate and his crew disappeared inside.

  Yarwan went to the companion ladder and shouted to the main deck. ‘Leading Leopardess Dalja, cover that boat, as visible as you can.’

  The big archeress grinned and her girls took up positions at both sides of the gangway.

  The wind carried in Midshipman Lannard’s voice, shouting the rowing commands at the Unwaari backs. ‘Give way together, damn you!’

  With an audible bump, followed by a stream of curses in a boyish treble, the ship’s boat arrived. As sailors went down to secure the boat, Yarwan walked to the gangway. The prisoners came up, led by an elderly tenman. Midshipman Lannard came last, and shamefacedly saluted his captain.

  ‘Apologies for the clumsy return, Captain,’ he said, blushing. ‘Those ... lubbers are a bunch of loafers.’

  Yarwan smiled at the boy’s imitation of a sailor’s language. ‘No matter, Mister Lannard. Were they surprised to see you?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ the boy said. ‘At least that petty officer was. As if he’d expected something different.’

  Yarwan nodded. ‘He probably expected the Magonaut’s original owners. Return to your duties, Mister Lannard. You did well.’

  Beaming, the boy saluted and hurried back to the quarterdeck.

  Yarwan turned and inspected the captured gunners. They don’t look very impressive, he thought. Scruffy and underfed; not at all like those guys we fought at Jamril Bay.

  ‘Secure them below,’ he said to Dalja. ‘I’ll decide later what to do with them.’ As the archeresses herded the prisoners away, Yarwan returned to the quarterdeck.

  ‘That went all right,’ he said to Elhir. ‘Next stop, the prisoners.’

  The Magonaut ambled along the mole, past the dhows and the Witch of Pukkut. By now, it was growing dark and the dying light colored the captured vessel in somber shades.

  ‘She looks sad,’ Elhir said. ‘Like a neglected wife.’

  Yarwan glanced at her. The first mate wasn’t a fanciful woman and her observation surprised him.

  ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘We must do something about that. Muster the attack force.’ He turned to Zalim, standing in a corner. ‘Which building is the prison?’

  ‘Over there behind the gates, Captain,’ the wandin said. ‘The second of the three shacks is the prison. The redstone building outside is the guardhouse.’

  ‘Very well. You can lay us alongside the quay, First Mate.’

  Elhir shouted her orders, and the steam sloop came to rest.

  ‘I wish you would let me go,’ she said. ‘Forays into enemy towns are hardly a captain’s duty.’

  ‘Nor his second-in-command’s.’ Yarwan’s smile was tight. ‘Life isn’t fair, First Mate. I go and you stay on board.’

  Elhir sighed dramatically. ‘Aye aye, Captain.’

  ‘The boats are ready, Captain,’ Jorlok said, looking reproachful.

  ‘Then I’ll leave, so you can complain to each other about my egotism.’

  ‘We wouldn’t do that!’ Elhir said indignantly.

  Yarwan colored. ‘I am sorry,’ he said. ‘Of course you wouldn’t. Forgive me; if I don’t go, I’ll explode.’

  ‘I know.’ Elhir smiled at him. ‘Just get those prisoners out, Captain.’

  Yarwan ran to the gang board, where his attack force waited. ‘Come with me.’ He vaulted over the railing onto the quay below and like ghosts in the dusk, they ran to the guardhouse.

  As Yarwan burst inside, ten Unwaari soldiers sprang up, gaping in astonishment. One man jumped at Yarwan, sword raised, and died gurgling. The others threw up their hands.

  ‘We surrender! By Aera’s Faces, who are you?’

  ‘The Vanhaari Liberation Force,’ Yarwan said on the spur of the moment. ‘We come to give the country back to its people.’ He turned to the master’s mate beside him. ‘Secure those men.’ Within moments, the guards found themselves locked up in their own holding cell.

  Yarwan nodded at Zalim. ‘Let’s see to your people, Wandin.’

  They ran out and past the guardhouse. Yarwan gripped the door handle.

  ‘Damn, locked,’ he said.

  Zalim held out a bunch of keys. ‘I saw these hanging inside the guardhouse door,’ he said apologetically.

  ‘Quick thinking,’ Yarwan said, smiling. ‘Open the door.’

  The third key fitted, and with a creaking sound, the door opened. They hurried inside, into a large room. Dirty redstone walls, a barred window overlooking the prison court, a circle of men and women. As Yarwan and the wandin entered, the Jentakans all turned their heads and gaped at them.

  ‘He came!’ Zalim said breathlessly. ‘Captain Yarwan is one of us and a very honorable man. He comes to free us all.’ The he saw the dead man spread-eagled in the circle and he recoiled. ‘How ...’

  An older woman bowed her head. ‘When you weren’t at muster, Estimable Zalim, they ordered us to tell where you’d gone. No one spoke. So they shot him, and promised to shoot another one at the next muster, unless we told.’

  ‘I am sorry,’ Zalim said, and the tears ran down his face. ‘We couldn’t come sooner.’

  ‘Take him for burial at sea,’ Yarwan said. ‘We’ll speak later. For now, go to your ship. Sail the Witch to the battery on the mole and wait for orders.’

  ‘Aye aye, Captain,’ the wandin said. He spread his arms to his people. ‘We will go to the guardhouse first; we need some arms. Then we will retake the Witch. We will be free again!’

  The faces of the Jentakans bore a mixture of exultation and unbelief as they came to their feet. They looked emaciated and filthy, but their spirits were unbroken.

  ‘Go with Kallianura,’ Yarwan said. ‘You will be shipbound again.’

  Zalim bowed for all of them. ‘Would you offer us service, Captain?’ His eyes studied Yarwan’s face.

  ‘By the laws of the sea the Witch is mine. You will sign on as her crew with the company I represent. That will make you shipbound and takes care of your pay. For the oath, I must find another captain. Also, I will have a word with the Overcaptain. Perhaps there is some money left from Hinguy’s confiscation to compensate you for the months as prisoners.’

  Zalim touched his heart. ‘Whatever else happens, you gave us back our pride, Captain. For that alone, all of Dilli Village will be grateful to you.’ Then they went out to get their home back.

  Yarwan led his men out after them. The quays, the street beyond and in the dista
nce the castle square were empty of people. Strange, that silence, thought Yarwan. No onlookers, no enemy soldiers; not even a stray cat. No sounds either. As if they’re all dead.

  ‘Back to the ship,’ he said.

  As he returned to his quarterdeck, he saw the Witch of Pukkut hoist her sails and turn away from the quay. The only sign she’d been there was the drifting body of the Unwaari guard.

  ‘The castle is still quiescent,’ Yarwan said. He turned to Midshipman Lannard. ‘Orders. Go and ask the bos’n for two leadings hands and four ordinary, and take possession of the dhows. Sail them out and moor at the battery. The Witch is there, too. Be careful to signal them you’re our people, not the enemy.’

  ‘Aye aye, Captain.’ The boy touched his hat, unsuccessfully trying to hide a grin of pleasure. He wanted to run, but then he skipped and walked to the companion ladder.

  ‘Nothing moved while you were gone, sir,’ Elhir said. ‘The town looks deserted.’ She stared toward the castle. ‘Eerily silent.’

  At that moment, a sailor came up and saluted. ‘Your pardon, Captain. There’s a person on the quay asking for you. An enemy officer.’

  ‘Bring him aft.’ Yarwan straightened his jacket and waited, arms behind his back.

  The sailor returned with a nervous-looking man in an Unwaari uniform and a plumed helm. At the top of the companion ladder, he saluted, looking from Yarwan to Elhir as if unsure whom to address.

  ‘Lieutenant Dalhaun of the Unwaari Army of the Southern Reaches,’ he said. ‘Captain ...?’

  ‘Yarwan, of the Chorwaynie steam sloop Magonaut.’

  ‘Captain Yarwan, I am second-in-command of the troops in Seatome. My commander sent me to discuss terms.’

  ‘Terms?’ Yarwan gave the fidgety lieutenant a cold stare. ‘What terms, Lieutenant?’

  ‘The surrender of your ship, Captain. Before our castle fires upon you.’

  Yarwan felt his blood run cold. ‘You’ve gotten it wrong, Lieutenant,’ he said, fighting down his sudden nausea. ‘The castle will surrender to me, as your guns have stood idle for too long and now can’t fire. You will tell your commander to strike his flag, march out with his men and disarm on the quay. If not, I will breach your walls with my 32-pounders and come ashore to drag you all out by your ears. Am I clear?’