Storms of Destiny

by A. C. Crispin

  As soon as the drug fumes cleared away and it could stand without weaving, Khith was at Thia’s bedside, shaking her gently. “Wake, Thia,” it said softly. “Wake up.”

  She stirred, muttered, then her eyes opened. “Master?

  What … what …”

  “We must awaken and plan,” Khith said. “The Redai’s ship will be here within the hour. And the first thing they will do—”

  Now fully awake, she sat up. “The first thing they’ll do is execute Jezzil! Barus said so! We have to stop them.”

  “Exactly,” Khith agreed. “So, what are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. “How can we fight all of them?”

  “We cannot fight them,” Khith said. “But there may be other ways. Wake Eregard. We must talk.”

  Abandon Ship!

  After three days in the dim, windowless cabin, the Sun struck Thia’s eyes like a blow. She hesitated at the top of the ladder, squinting, shielding her eyes, until the guard behind her gave her a poke and a curt order to move along. She pulled herself up the last few steps, then stood on the deck.

  Eregard was the next one up, followed by Khith. The Prince looked around the deck, blinking, then nudged Thia. “That must be Kerezau. The one in the middle, wearing the—”

  “Silence!” one of the guards barked in Pelanese, giving the Prince a shove.

  Thia could see the man Eregard referred to. He was not tall, but there was something about him that made him stand out. Physically, he was ordinary enough, with black hair, black eyes, a trimmed beard and moustache. His armor had plainly seen hard usage, but it was polished to a mirror sheen. Thia realized after a moment that he was literally set apart—no one stood too close to him. He was like a little island of command amidst the throng of Chonao warriors. She could see the ship that had brought him already moving away from the Pride.

  In response to an order from the guards, she, Eregard, and Khith were brought up to the outskirts of the crowd. Thia lost sight of Kerezau until someone barked a command in the Chonao language. Within moments the troops had assembled into precise lines, standing at attention.

  Kerezau and Barus stood together, with Barus barking orders. Thia caught the name “Jezzil” amid the unfamiliar words and knew that this was it. Her palms were sweaty, but she resisted the urge to wipe her hands on her skirt. Do nothing to draw attention to yourself, Khith had told her, until the time is right.

  She wet her lips. It was hot standing there in the sunlight, after so many days below in the hold. She wished desperately she’d been permitted to change her clothes before being brought up on deck. Might as well wish for a bath while you’re at it, she thought disgustedly.

  Nevertheless, she’d done her best to make herself look as feminine as possible, on Khith’s orders. She finger-combed her dirty hair and tied it up with a bit of ribbon. She unbuttoned the blouse she wore beneath her laced-up overtunic to display a hint of cleavage. She brushed the dust and cob-webs off her skirt …

  … and tore strips off her petticoat and used them to strap Khith’s little scalpel securely to the underside of her forearm, thankful that her blouse had long, full sleeves.

  Now she stood waiting tensely. Can I do this? What if it doesn’t work?

  Khith caught her eye and gave her a hint of a nod. Thia knew the doctor believed she could handle her part in the plan, and she hoped the Hthras was correct.

  Guards appeared from belowdecks, half dragging, half carrying another prisoner. It took Thia a moment to realize it was Jezzil. His long hair fell over his face, and he was so filthy that it was hard to even recognize him.

  He was hauled before the Redai, so weak he couldn’t even stand on his own. Despite his weakness, they were taking no chances. The guards bound his hands behind him as Kerezau addressed him in their own language, evidently reciting a list of charges, then made a single statement in a cold voice.

  Barus smiled.

  The Redai turned to face the three other prisoners, and there was a shuffling in the group of people surrounding him. Suddenly, Talis was there, standing to Kerezau’s left, next to one of his bodyguards. Thia’s eyes widened. The Katan rebel was wearing one of her best, most feminine outfits—an embroidered white silk blouse, a wine-colored velvet laced-up bodice, and a full skirt of crimson silk taffeta. Ruffled petticoats peeked out beneath the hem of her skirt. Why is she so dressed up? Thia wondered, seeing that Talis’s long black hair was pinned up high on her head, baring her neck and shoulders.

  Kerezau addressed Thia, Eregard, and Khith in strongly accented Pelanese. “I have just sentenced your friend to die by hanging. The execution will be carried out immediately.”

  Thia let out a shriek of anguish and plunged forward, falling on her hands and knees before the Chonao leader.

  “No! No, no, no! Please, my lord, spare my husband! I cannot live without him! Please! Spare him, for the sake of his babe that I carry!”

  Halfway through her speech, guards had grabbed her and hauled her upright. Frowning, Kerezau turned to Barus, who muttered a quick translation.

  “This man,” Kerezau pointed at Jezzil, who was standing stock still, his mouth hanging open, “is your husband?”

  “Yes!” Thia wailed, burying her face in her hands despite the guards’ grip on her upper arms. “Oh, yes, my lord! He is my husband, and I love him! I cannot be parted from him!

  He is everything to me!”

  She broke into a noisy storm of weeping and blubbering, tearing at her face with her hands, and, to her own surprise, felt real tears start.

  Jezzil, who had been barely able to stand, shook back his hair, revealing a filthy, bruised face. His beard was matted.

  He took a step toward her. “This woman is mad,” he said loudly. “I don’t even know her. She’s not my wife!”

  Thia shrieked again, piercingly. “No! Don’t deny me, husband! Don’t deny your wee babe that I carry!”

  She flung herself at Jezzil, and this time the guards, who seemed to be laughing, let her go. Thia scrabbled toward him on her knees, wailing aloud, and grabbed him around his thighs, pressing her face against him. The stench was terrible. “My love!” she howled, looking up at him beseech-ingly. “My husband!”

  Jezzil raised his leg, trying to push her away. “Get off me!

  Your Excellency, I never saw this woman before now! She’s mad, anyone can tell that! I am not married, I have no wife!”

  Thia let herself be pushed away, and sprawled on the deck, yowling wordlessly, like a singed cat. “Don’t deny me, my love!” she cried. She could feel her own face, hot and swollen with tears as she writhed, holding her belly. “Don’t deny our babe!” To her own surprise, she realized that she was actually enjoying her own performance. She’d never behaved like this in her life, and there was something freeing about it. “I love you!”

  “Shut this hyena bitch up,” Barus said, looking as though he wanted to cover his ears. “What difference does it make if she’s his wife? We’re still going to hang him!”

  Suddenly Talis was there, crouching beside her. “Thia!”

  she shouted, raised her hand and slapped her. Thia reeled back from the force of her slap. “Thia, what’s wrong with you?”

  The stinging blow helped bring more tears. Thia sprawled back on her rear, her skirts rucked up around her, and began shrieking again. Kerezau gestured, and two guards pulled Talis away. Another gesture, and Thia was dragged to her feet. “Silence, you stupid slut!” he ordered. One of the guards slapped a hand over Thia’s mouth. She subsided, gulping noisily.

  “You say you do not wish to be parted from your husband?” Kerezau asked.

  Her mouth still covered by the guard’s huge, grimy paw, Thia nodded.

  “Very well. We will hang him, and then we will hang you.

  You can be together in death.” He made a dismissive gesture.

  “Take them away.”

  Behind the guard’s hand, Thia allowed herself a faint smile, then sigh
ed, threw up her hands and swooned. The guards did not let her fall. She made herself stay limp as they dragged her over to the mainmast, where they had taken Jezzil. Her pretense paid off; they did not bind her hands.

  The guards had already run a long thick rope up through a pulley set into the rigging above the boom of the mainmast.

  Thia saw that it had a noose on the other end. Two guards grabbed the free end of the line and pulled it down. They stood holding it, ready to begin hoisting when the noose was in place.

  Thia tensed inwardly but kept her body limp, relaxed.

  They had to believe she was harmless. She began keening, but softly. She didn’t want them to gag her.

  Barus stepped forward, nodded to the guard, looked straight at Jezzil and spoke in their language. From his tone, his comment was evidently an admonition to the guards.

  They stiffened, and tightened their hold on Jezzil.

  Barus smiled, and it was a terrible sight.

  The guard pushed the noose over Jezzil’s head, then tightened it so it couldn’t slip off when the executioners began hauling on the rope.

  When the noose was secure, the guard stepped back and nodded to the other two. They grasped the rope and began to pull. Jezzil’s body went up … up … until he was teetering on his tiptoes. The guards looked to Barus for the command to pull him up higher, but Barus did not seem disposed to make a quick end. He stood there smiling, watching Jezzil sway on his tiptoes, back and forth, back and— Without warning, there was a loud BOOM belowdecks.

  The Pride shuddered and heaved; smoke and flame belched from the side of the ship. Thia was thrown to her knees.

  Jezzil’s guards staggered. She heard loud, reverberating metallic crashing from below, mixed with the crackle of fire and the shouts of sailors.

  Just as they are about to hang Jezzil, there will be a distraction, Khith had told her.

  This is it! she thought. Her guards had both been thrown

  to the deck, and neither of them paid her the slightest attention as she scrabbled forward on her hands and knees. She didn’t know exactly what the little mage had done, but at least she’d been warned to expect something. She knew she must move fast, while everyone else was distracted.

  Jezzil’s guards, like everyone else on the deck except for Thia, were now looking off to starboard. She reached Jezzil, stood up and began sawing at the ropes binding his wrists with Khith’s scalpel. She could hear him gagging, choking from the taut-drawn noose.

  Beneath her hands, Jezzil’s wrists suddenly vanished. She could still feel the ropes and his flesh, but could no longer see them. She sawed frantically at the last rope, seeing blood smear her hands. She had cut him.

  A second later she could feel nothing—he was gone. The noose swung, empty. Thia looked around her at the chaos that had been the well-ordered Chonao troops.

  What now?

  Talis staggered, nearly thrown off her feet. She smelled acrid smoke and heard loud, metallic clanging from belowdecks. What in the name of the Goddess was that? Like everyone else, she turned to see smoke billowing out of the Pride’s starboard side. Chaos reigned on deck as the captain shouted for all hands to go below and fight the fire.

  Talis turned back to see what had happened to Jezzil, only to realize he was gone. His guards were shouting and flailing the air with their swords. He disappeared! He’s free!

  Kerezau and his men were milling around, everyone shouting and pointing, clearly caught off guard. Now’s my chance! she thought, and her fingers went to the buttons of her skirt. It took but a moment to unfasten it and the petticoats beneath it, then step out of them. She bunched them up and tossed them overboard. Clad in the breeches she’d worn underneath, she eased her way through the gesticulating, shouting crowd surrounding the Redai.

  Just as she’d thought, Kerezau’s guards were not paying attention to what was going on behind them. She sidled closer, her hand going up to her hair. Her gaze fastened on the back of Kerezau’s neck. Could she try for such a small target, or would it be better to work her way around to the side, so she could go for the artery?

  The sharpened hairpin, its point shrouded in fabric, was in her hand. Carefully, using a fold of her shirt, she pulled the protective fabric away. The metal point was dulled from the solution she’d dipped it in. Was it the poison or the soporific? Or was it some other type of powder that would prove harmless?

  Step by step, Talis eased forward, keeping her hands down, guarding her gaze. She decided that the top of the spine was too small a target. Kerezau’s armor had a thick metal collar that concealed much of his neck and throat, but it dipped a bit in front. That would be her target …

  And afterward?

  Talis told herself that she couldn’t afford to think about afterward. Perhaps she’d have a fighting chance if she could grab Kerezau’s sword.

  She was only two steps away now, and everyone’s attention was still focused on the smoke billowing out of the Pride’s side.

  One step …

  Talis leaped, her hand flashing out and toward the Redai’s throat. But her blow did not land true. Somehow Kerezau managed to twist at the last possible second, and the hairpin scraped along the top of his armored collar. He slapped his hand to his neck as if stung. “Assassin! Katan whore! You are a dead woman!”

  Had she scratched him at all? Drawn blood? Talis couldn’t tell. The Redai whirled, drew his sword and came after her. He waved the others back. “Somebody give her a blade! I want her for myself!”

  Talis leaped back just as the nearest guard tossed her his sword, hilt first. The blade was long for her, the curved shape not as familiar as the straight Katan swords. She had practiced with Jezzil’s sword a time or two, but …

  With a shout, Kerezau rushed her and they engaged.

  Talis had been a passable swordswoman before Jezzil came into her life. After several months of his training, she was much improved, probably able to best most Katan soldiers. But the Chonao were a different breed. Within moments she was pressed hard just to keep herself from being spitted.

  Their blades wove a clashing symphony of bright silver in the sun, hissing and ringing and clanging. She used every trick she’d ever learned, feinting, sidestepping, parrying …

  anything to keep Kerezau’s sword from hitting her body.

  Talis kept backing up, trying to remember the way the deck had looked behind her, hoping there was nothing there for her to trip over. One stumble and she was dead; she knew it.

  After a minute or two she realized that Kerezau was deliberately prolonging the fight—he intended to cut her to pieces, little by little. A cat playing with a mouse.

  Her chest was heaving now as she parried yet another thrust, and her arm was growing tired. What should I do? she wondered as she saw a quick opening and lunged. Kerezau stepped aside easily, though, and laughed. “Not bad for a Katan slut!”

  Suddenly, she heard a bellow from a voice she recognized. “Talis! There’s a plan! Jump! Swim southeast!”

  That’s Eregard, she thought as she automatically parried another lunge, only to discover it was actually a feint.

  Kerezau could have slashed her throat, but he only laughed and brushed the top of her shoulder with the tip of the blade.

  Jump?

  She could swim, but … wouldn’t that be sure death?

  Exactly what are you facing here and now, my girl? she thought, and then, before she could allow herself to think further, she flung the sword at Kerezau with all her might, turned, ran four long paces and leapt over the railing.

  Eregard saw Talis go over the railing with a feeling of relief.

  His apportioned task for their escape was to make sure everyone knew there was a plan, and that plan was to swim southeast of the Pride. He turned and ran across the deck, dodging sailors and Chonao. There was still a lot of smoke, but the fire did not seem to be spreading. He knew that Khith had designed his “distraction” so it would cause pandemo-nium on deck but would not, with luck, sink
the ship.

  He reached Falar’s pen, then crouched on the other side, out of sight, wondering whether to open the gate and let her go. He knew Jezzil was bound to end up here at some point … he would no more abandon Falar than he would one of his human companions. The Prince shaded his eyes from the sun, looking across the deck, searching for his friends. He saw Khith, clutching its medical bag, over on the southeastern side of the ship, climbing the railing. The little Hthras looked back at him as it straddled the railing and dropped its bag. With a quick nod, the doctor was gone, over the side.

  Two down, Eregard thought. Where are Jezzil and Thia?

  He was a bit concerned about Talis. She had jumped over on the northwest side of the ship, which would necessitate her swimming quite a distance to get clear of the Pride and then all the way around her. He told himself to relax, Talis was probably as competent at swimming as she was at everything else. He couldn’t believe she’d managed to hold off Kerezau for as long as she had.

  Without warning, the door to Falar’s pen opened. Eregard leaped up. “Jezzil! Khith has a plan—swim southeast!

  There’s one of the seaweed islands, we can regroup there!”

  He heard Jezzil’s voice, though no one was visible. “Did Khith cause that explosion?”

  “Yes,” Eregard said. “It planned the whole thing, but we couldn’t get word to Talis.”

  “Where is Talis?”

  “She fought with the Redai, held him off, then I told her to go over the side. Khith just went. It’s your turn, my friend.

  Can you swim?”

  Eregard heard a low chuckle. “Anything to get off this cursed ship, my friend.”

  Eregard suddenly focused and pointed. “There’s Thia. I’ll go get her.”

  “Let me,” Jezzil’s voice came back. “You’ve done your part. Over you go.”

  Eregard sketched a half salute. The door to Falar’s pen burst open and the mare bolted out at full stride. The Prince turned, ran for the railing, and executed a clean, precise dive into the Narrow Sea.