Tae scrambled to his feet, apologizing at least twenty times as he bowed repeatedly, lower each time. He tried to simulate the sailor's most conciliatory tone and added at the end, "I couldn't possibly be more sorry, and I will clean up every bit of this mess immediately."
The giant, obviously Firuz the Kjempemagiska growled out, "What's your name, sailor?"
Tae swallowed hard, not having to feign fear. He knew from his conversations in the dungeon that the Kjempemagiska would not hesitate to tear an alsona in half, burn him alive, or roll him in a vat of scalding acid. He did not fully understand their conventions of naming. It seemed best to use a name he already knew was alsona. He kept his head low, dodging the giant's gaze. "Jaxon, my lord."
"Well, Jaxon. Perhaps after you've cleaned this mess and are prepared to bring us more food, you'll have the wisdom to make two trips."
That's it? The Kjempemagiska did not seem nearly as cruel as the imprisoned alsona had suggested. I don't suppose they can punish every infraction with death. Otherwise, they would lose their servants: if not to murder, then to paralyzing fear, escape, or mutiny. "Yes, my lord. Thank you, my lord. How wise of you, my lord."
Tae set to the task of cleaning, attempting to appear eagerly efficient while actually lingering over the task.
The standing generals retook their seats.
The Kjempemagiska went back to business. "They have armies on how many beachfronts currently?"
The general Tae now knew as Fallon responded. "We believe three, my lord. Two on the south coast, with mountains between them, and one on the west coast."
"None on the east?" someone asked incredulously.
Tae casually turned his head toward the table to see one of the generals tracing the coast of his own realm.
"It's wide open."
Another man spoke as Tae returned to picking up the largest shards of glass and laying them in the basket. He had known bringing the Eastern forces westward would open his coast to attack. The alsona could take the entire country with little resistance, but the same geographical concerns that kept the East separated from the West most times would come into play.
Another of the generals pointed out what Tae already knew. "Wide open, but essentially useless. This band of mountains cuts the eastern part of the continent off from every other place. There's only one workable pass, and that's guarded by a large force here."
Tae did not have to look to know where "here" was. The East's only connection to the remainder of their world was the pass onto the barren Western Plains, where the Eastern army now massed. He set to gathering the smaller shards of glass. He appreciated the cloth lining the basket; he would not need to go above decks looking for rags to sop up the spillage.
"That could also work as an advantage." A new voice this time. "If we take the eastern quarter of the continent, we can fortify it. So long as we protect that pass, we're safe.Then, once we have magical forces, we can go over the mountains and attack from every direction."
Firuz' voice was ice. "You're awfully free with the lives of your masters, Kalka."
Kalka apologized as profusely as Tae had. "You're right, of course, my lord. I wasn't thinking."
A tense silence settled over the group. Tae paid them no obvious attention, trying to look absolutely absorbed in his work. He could only guess at the details. Apparently, they intended for the alsona to fully front the battle, keeping the Kjempemagiska safely home until needed. That boded well for the allies, at least until the war reached that critical stage.
Apparently trying to defuse the situation, Fallon cleared his throat. "We haven't checked the northern shores, my lord. North of these mountains…"
Northern Weathered Range, Tae filled in, still on the floor working to clean up the mess.
"… it's uninhabitably cold, by our reckoning."
Except to Northmen, Tae finished. And they're just crazy.
"Where, exactly, are the beachfronts?" someone asked. "Here, I assume, for one. And here."
Tae wished he could see where they indicated, but looking too often posed an unaffordable risk.
"Correct," Fallon said. "And the third one's here, on the west side. They have the largest army concentrated here."
Tae knew that corresponded to Bearn.
"They only have about a third as many men here and even fewer here."
The Western Plains and the open west coastline. Tae used the lining cloth, and the napkins, to mop up the spilled wine.
"I'm thinking," Fallon continued, "we could send a diversionary force toward their main body, then hit them hard on the west coast. It might take a week or so for their main force to reach us."
Tae dropped the soaked cloth into the basket, using the remaining napkins to dry up the last of the liquid and the tiniest pieces of glass. He glanced up in time to see Firuz' face locked in a tight grimace.
"No," the Kjempemagiska finally said. "We will attack them at their strongest point. If we can't best them there, we will never win this war. And, if we can, we will have won it in a single battle." He added with an actual hint of compassion, "And, in the long run, we will lose fewer soldiers by not splitting our ranks, diversionary or otherwise."
Tae tossed the butter crock and bread into the basket, on top of the sodden linens. If the alsona sailors were like his own people, Tae knew they would not worry about the condition of the ruined food, only about the taste. They would snack well on what the generals would no longer touch, so long as they avoided the glass shards.
The generals' conversation descended into strategic details involving the commanders and battalions; and, with his cleaning finished, Tae found it safest to leave. As the discussion became more finely honed, he understood fewer words, especially punctuated by given names, ship names, and titles.
Swiftly, Tae headed up the stairs, through the hatch, and onto the deck, quickly lowering the door behind him. The instant it closed, something bumped against it. Fear seized him. Did they figure me out? Is someone coming after me? He drew back into the shadows, watching and waiting, but no one came.
Tae set the basket down as his heart rate subsided to normal. "Imorelda," he whispered, glad the cat had followed his orders to hide. She had been right to brag about her stealthiness; even in broad daylight, knowing she was aboard, he could not find her.
The cat did not reply, with presence or mental voice.
"Imorelda," Tae called, a bit louder.
A sailor appeared from around the mainmast and studied Tae quizzically. "Did you say something?"
Tae shook his head, frowning. "No. Did you hear something?"
The sailor did not reply, only studied Tae more carefully in the full sunlight. "Who are you?"
Tae thought it best to stick with as much of his story as possible. "Jaxon. I came with General Fallon." He peered about cautiously, hoping he would spot Imorelda, and the sailor would not.*Imorelda,* he mind-called carefully, worried she might still have him attuned to the alsona's level. She would hear him, but they would also.
The sailor continued to stare. He did not seem to notice Tae's call. Yet, suddenly, his expression changed from curious to suspicious. He drew a wicked-looking knife from his belt, its blade curved and serrated. "Answer my question… Jaxon."
"I did," Tae insisted. "I told you-" It occurred to him abruptly that the man had asked something mentally. And he had not heard. Which meant Imorelda had dropped the alsona's communication level, she had passed beyond range of their connection, or she was dead. No. Tae refused to accept the latter possibility. Then, little things came back to haunt him: the light touch as he descended to the captain's quarters, the lost footing, the bang against the hatch as he closed it. She followed me down. A worse realization struck him. And she's still stuck there.
Knife leading, the sailor lunged for Tae so suddenly he dodged more from instinct than intent. As he whirled to run, Tae seized the handle of the basket and hurled it toward the sailor. He did not pause to see if it hit. Though he had lost his ment
al connection, Tae could imagine the call of "intruder" touching every mind above decks.
A grunt reached him, then a cry, followed by the pounding of many footfalls on the deck. Tae risked a glance back as he rounded on the hatch. Men raced toward him from the fore, sailors with knives, soldiers with swords, and even a few dragging out small bow-like weapons to which they were fitting strange, metal arrows. He could scarcely believe they had mobilized so fast.
Tae thought he could make it to the rail, barely, if he did not slow; but he would not leave Imorelda behind.With hardly a thought to his own survival, he snatched at the hatch and jerked it open.
Imorelda emerged, puffed up and hissing. Her mind touched Tae's for an instant, then disappeared as she noticed the crowd bearing down upon them.
Saving her proved Tae's downfall. He twisted as he moved, trying to minimize himself as a target. A sword stroke meant to decapitate him gashed through his right shoulder and slammed against bone. The impact hurled him leftward, saving him from a skewering from a second blade but sending him tripping over the hatch, into an uncontrolled spin toward the port stern. *IMORELDA!* Tae screamed, not caring if she had them on alsona level. Without solid wood between them, she should hear him.*Grab on, and don't panic!* Easy advice, impossible for either of them to obey. Another blade carved a crazy arc across Tae's back, partially protected by the resilience of the garment he wore. *Imorelda!*
Appearing out of nowhere, the cat flung herself at Tae's chest. He caught her without slowing, flinging himself desperately toward the rail. The hammer of footfalls, the shouts of the soldiers and sailors, the lap of the ocean all blended into one indecipherable noise. Then, Tae found himself airborne, falling in a spray of salt water and his own blood. Arrows whizzed around him. One nicked his ear. Another crashed into his back, piercing deep through muscle and into his chest. *Got him!* someone crowed.
I'm dead, Tae realized. The peace it brought put the world in slow motion. He heard nothing but a toneless buzz, saw only the vast blueness of the ocean rushing up to claim him, felt nothing but the cold kiss of sea air against his skin. Then, he hit the water with a slap that brought everything back into focus. A mass of arrows fell around him, slowed to a crawl by the thickness of the water, except for the one that pierced his left thigh.
Still clutching Imorelda, Tae dove, watching the water turn scarlet around him. The cat went crazy in his arms, clawing, biting, twisting in a berserk attempt to free herself from the enclosing depths. The more she fought, the tighter Tae winched her, forcing his legs to move. They had to come up in a different spot or risk another hail of arrows or worse. He hoped they would not be able to follow the blood trail. They may not, but the sharks eventually will.
In the shadow of the bow, Tae finally dared to surface, still grasping a sodden and deadly ball of fur.
Once she filled her lungs with air, Imorelda finally gained enough composure to speak.*You stupid, stupid two legs!You tried to drown me!*
Tae's every breath was agony. Bloody froth bubbled from his mouth, and his shoulder ached so badly he could barely move. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and surrender to darkness, to let death quietly take away the pain. Imorelda, he reminded himself. You have to get her home. The only thing firmly settled in Tae's mind was that he would not allow a loved one to die for his folly. Imorelda deserved to live, and Matrinka needed the cat for her sanity.*Imorelda, just listen.* Tae let his head sink backward, allowing the ocean to bear its weight.*Tell Matrinka they have five generals and one magical leader.*
Imorelda climbed onto Tae's uninjured shoulder, shaking out the water.*Tell her your damned self.*
Tae appreciated that the mental conversation did not require breathing. He could never have gasped out that many words.*Imorelda, just listen. Five generals and one magical leader.The whole force will come directly against Bearn. Can you tell her that?* *No, you cat drowner. I'm not telling her anything.* *Imorelda.* Tae did not have the energy to argue, even in his mind. He dared not move from beneath the bow for fear of another attack. *Quiet!* Imorelda commanded.
Tae obeyed gladly, the cat balanced on his shoulder. Her wet fur seemed ten times heavier than normal.
A moment later, Imorelda reappeared in his mind.*They're convinced we're dead.*
Anyone who had seen the arrow pierce him, who noticed the sheer volume of blood in the water, could come to no other conclusion. They're half right. I won't make it, but I'm going to get you home safely. Tae kept that thought to himself.*Hang on, Imorelda. I have to tear these clothes. If I don't stop the bleeding, the sharks will come.* The prospect seemed impossible. Tae felt his consciousness fading, and the idea of getting devoured did not seem so bad. At least, the pain would disappear.
Imorelda jabbed Tae with a claw.*So start ripping already.What are you waiting for?*
"I can't," Tae whispered.
Imorelda swiped her paw across his face hard enough to feel like a slap, though she kept her claws sheathed.
Tae opened his eyes; he did not remember closing them. *Get that bleeding stopped. I don't want to be eaten.*
As long as the sailors did not make a habit of shoveling fish entrails over the side, Tae knew he had a bit of time before the sharks found them. He just had to stay well away from the man he had killed to buy more time. I have to do this. For Imorelda. I can't let Imorelda die. Tae unfastened his one-piece garment and tried to tear it, without success. The sturdy, diagonal double-weave made it nearly impossible. He turned his attention to the shoulder area, where the soldier's sword had cut through the fabric. There, he found better leverage and managed to tear it in half. Cold ocean water seeped over every part of him, reviving and strangely soothing.
Maddeningly slowly, Tae managed to make long strips, which he first stuffed into the hole in his thigh. It felt like torture. Sharp pain racked his entire leg, but he finished the job before winding cloth around the wound to hold the pieces in place.
As he worked, Imorelda shifted around to keep from falling into the water. Apparently, she examined Tae as she did so.*Your shoulder looks like rats have been chewing on it. And there's an arrow sticking out of your back.Want me to try to pull it out?*
Tae could not answer quickly enough.*No! Don't touch it.* He knew what might happen. Moving the shaft could cause the tip to shift, possibly into his heart. He would die instantly. And, even if the worst did not occur, removing it would result in more blood than they might be able to staunch.*Is it bleeding at all?*
Imorelda shifted cautiously.*No.* *Better to leave it, then.*
Imorelda finished the sentence,*Until trained healers can get to it?*
Tae nodded, without real consideration. It did not matter if they ever removed it; he was essentially already dead. He only had to survive long enough to get Imorelda to shore. *Your ear's bleeding, too; but not a lot.Want me to direct you?* *Please.* Tae set to the shoulder first, winding material around it in a bundle. Although the thick sturdiness of the cloth had made it difficult to tear, he now appreciated that it also did a better job of staunching and covering the bleeding. He moved delicately, as much to maintain consciousness as to accommodate the cat. Have to get Imorelda home. The thought became an inviolate chant, the only thing keeping him going long after he should have surrendered. *Now the ear,* Imorelda prompted.
Tae wound his remaining strip of cloth around his head, binding the right ear tightly against his skull. As he did so, he started looking for pieces of wood, a bit of flotsam, anything to which he might cling. It did not take him long. The pirates had destroyed many Western ships, and hunks of broken hull haunted this part of the sea. Tae threw his arms over a generous hunk of nailed-together boards and steered them toward shore.
CHAPTER 43
Success is the product of the application of good sense to the circumstances of the moment
. -General Santagithi
Tae Kahn awakened to a sudden stabbing pain in his shoulder and a shout echoing through his head.*Wake up! Wake up! Wakeupw
akeupwakeup!* Disoriented, he remained utterly still, trying to recall where he was and how he had gotten there. He lay slumped over a timber, floating in water. He had to force his eyelids open; and, when he did, salt stung them mercilessly. Surrounded by the steely grayness of dawn or twilight, he caught a blurry view of ocean and distant shore. Shore!*Imorelda, we're almost home.*
But Imorelda, he realized, was facing the other direction, her hackles raised and her claws still embedded in his wounded shoulder.*This way! Danger!*
Pain that racked his body kept Tae from moving quickly. Reluctantly, he turned his head to see a broad dorsal fin slicing the water behind him. It moved erratically, driving toward them, then backing away to return at a different angle. Shark, Tae realized, ransacking his brain for all the information he had ever absorbed about the creatures. Don't panic. Realizing Imorelda needed to know as well, he sent,*Don't panic.*
The cat minced backward, finally extracting her claws from Tae's wound, to his great relief.*Don't panic? Don't panic? There's a killer fish about to rip us to pieces, and I'm not supposed to panic? Fish aren't supposed to eat cats; cats are supposed to eat fish.* She paused an instant, breathing heavily.*I'm panicking, damn it. I'm panicking.*
Tae ignored her, watching the fin as it settled into a circular motion. Slowly, carefully, he pulled free his knife. Even that small movement hurt. His injuries seemed to have coalesced into one giant, overwhelming ache, and he kept his breathing shallow, to avoid the agony that came with the gasps his body sought. The bleeding from his throat had diminished, probably what had drawn the shark in the first place. *Imorelda, climb off me onto the boards.*
The cat gave no notice of having heard him.
The fin dipped. *Imorelda, go!*
The shark slammed against Tae and his makeshift float, knocking them apart. The weight of the cat on his shoulders disappeared, and water replaced the fur on the back of his neck. Tae grabbed wildly for support, and his hand scraped against something rougher than unsanded wood, abrading his fingers. Sharkskin. He swung the knife. Hilt and fist slammed against a nose hard as rock, and Tae found himself nearly on top of it, staring into a beady, black eye. Slowed by dizziness and exhaustion, Tae attempted to stab it in the eye but managed only to poke it with his fingers. The hilt jarred sideways against its hide, and the blade wrenched loose from Tae's fingers, sinking into the dark depths.
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