by Greg Keyes
He conceded that with a nod.
She shrugged. “We weren’t able to fully provision at z’Espino. My men are remedying that now.” She cocked her head. “How do you feel?”
“Wonderful,” he replied.
“Good. Do you remember anything?”
“The last thing I remember was hearing the sound of the surf.”
“We found you on the strand. Your wounds were open, and your breath was faint. You were very cold.”
“But now—what happened?”
“As I told you, I know some arts. I hesitate to use them, because there is a price.” She smiled fiercely. “You are fortunate that the walls between life and death are so thin.”
A sick dread fluttered in Neil. “Was I dead? Did you—?”
“You were not dead. The life in you was a flickering candle, but it was not extinguished.”
“Lady, whatever sorcery you used, you should not have. Tell me its price, and I will pay it.”
“It isn’t yours to pay,” she said softly. “And it is already done.” Her voice grew firmer. “And I make my own decisions. Have no fear, you are not cursed or possessed of spirits unhultha. You will not walk the night and do evil at my bidding.”
“I could never imagine you doing me harm,” Neil replied.
“No? Yet you spurned my company when you owed me your life.” Her voice rose. “Do you understand? You threw your life away in z’Espino, and with it any duty or obligation you ever had. You threw it away and I picked it up. Can you not concede that it is mine now? Do you feel no duty toward me?”
“Of course I do,” Neil blurted, “and that is the problem. And now I owe you twice, but I cannot repay you. That is agony to me, lady. Do you understand? You have put me between the rising tide and the cliff—”
“And can think of nothing better to do than drown yourself again.” She snorted. “Enough. I am done with this.”
“Done?”
“You will never enter my service, I see that now. But you do owe me twice, and I do not expect you to forget that. One day I will ask you a favor and you will answer. Do you understand?”
“If I can.”
“No. If you feel obligation toward me, then take it as a geis. I will not call on you soon.”
He sighed and bowed his head. “Are you saying you will release me now if I accept this geis?”
“Hush. By noon we leave here, and I will take you to Paldh, no matter what you say now. But if you have any of the fabled integrity of Skern, you will take my geis.”
“I swear by the saints my fathers swore by, and take this geis,” Neil said. “When you have need of me, I will come, so long as it does not bring harm to those it is my charge to protect.”
“Very well,” she said. She stood and looked off across the distant fields. “I never went ashore in z’Espino,” she said softly. “This is the only strange land I have ever set foot on. It is fair.”
“Lady—”
“Make the ship ready,” she called to her men in Hanzish. Then she strode away from him without even a backwards glance.
CHAPTER NINE
THE WIND AND THE SEA
WILL THEY CATCH US?” Anne asked, watching intently as the masts of the pursuing ship appeared and disappeared behind the high swells. The sky was a turquoise gem, flawed only with a few streaks of white cloud. There was no land in sight.
Captain Malconio put his callused hands on the rail and leaned forward. Perversely, she noticed that he exuded the same faintly almond scent Cazio had when he sweated.
“Lord Netuno knows,” he said. “That’s a fast ship, a brimwulf built in Saltmark. And they’ve got a strong wind behind them.”
“Are they faster than us?” Anne asked.
“Much faster,” Malconio said.
“Then they will catch us.”
Malconio scratched his beard. “Ah, well—there’s more to it than speed, della. We can run against the wind a little better than she can, and we’ve got a shallower keel. If we can reach the shoals around Ter-na-Fath before nightfall, I give us a chance.”
“Only a chance?” Cazio sneered.
Malconio regarded his brother with narrowed eyes. “It’s not often I have the need to outrun a man-o’-war,” he said acidly. “In fact—why, that’s never happened to me before. It took you to come along and present me this delightful opportunity, frater mio. Indeed, it occurs to me our pursuers might be satisfied if I just gave up my cargo.”
“You won’t do that,” Anne said.
Malconio’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked at her as if she had just asked to cut off his foot. “Pardon me? I wonder how you formed that opinion?”
“These men came after me when I was in the coven Saint Cer. They killed every sister there. What makes you think they would spare you?”
“There’s also the maritime guild to consider,” z’Acatto added a bit drunkenly. He waved the narrow-necked bottle of wine he’d found somewhere. “You know they would never stand for it if one of their ships had been accosted, for any reason. The captain of the ship behind us won’t take that risk—he’ll never give you the chance to report him. So don’t be a collone.”
“Easy, old man,” Malconio said. “You know I was just talking—it’s the family curse. But if we can’t slip them, we’ll never be able to fight them. A ship like that will carry three or four arbalests, probably armed with sea fire. My brother will never even get to use his sword, unless they want the girl alive, for some reason.” He looked back at Anne. “Is that likely to be the case?”
“I don’t think so,” Anne said. “I think they just want to see me dead.”
“And you still won’t tell me why?”
“I still don’t know why,” Anne said helplessly.
“Well,” Malconio said. “So we run, and hope the breeze favors us.”
They tacked hard to the north, and at first the larger ship seemed to drop back a bit, but then it started picking up speed again. It wasn’t even noon yet.
“Unless we get some luck, they’ll have us long before we reach the shoals,” Malconio finally admitted.
“Well, then, they’re in for a fight,” Cazio told his brother, resting his hand on the hilt of his rapier.
“I told you before,” Malconio said, “they’ve no reason to come close when they can sink us from a distance.” He put his hands on his hips. “But suppose they did try to board us—that fellow with the glowing sword—how do you intend to fight him? Your friend back at the docks dealt him a blow that should have had him buried in two places. But he was walking fine, last I saw him.”
“I’ve fought his kind before,” Cazio said with that overabundance of confidence that Anne found so infuriating. “I’ll cut off his head and send him to the bottom of the sea.”
“Last time you had me to drop bricks on him,” z’Acatto reminded him. “What shall I drop on this one?”
Cazio shrugged. “Perhaps an anchor? Surely we can find something.”
Malconio folded his hands. “What? No single combat this time? What of your honor?”
“It’s hardly honorable to fight with the aide of hell,” Cazio replied. “I’ve sworn to protect these ladies. I’ll do that even if I have to fight with less than perfect honor.”
Malconio rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t matter anyway,” he said. “They’ve twice our numbers without taking Casnar z’Estrigo into account. Drop an anchor on him if you wish, though I have only so many anchors.” He nodded at the approaching ship. “But it won’t come to that. See those arbalests? What did I tell you?”
Anne could see some sort of ungainly devices mounted on the other ship’s deck, but couldn’t make out what they were supposed to do. Austra saved her the embarrassment of asking what an arbalest was, by asking herself.
“It’s a huge mechanical bow,” Malconio replied. “Hurls stones, lead balls, pots of flame—things like that.”
“Don’t you have any sort of war engines, Captain?” Anne asked. “Some way to
fight back? Surely you’ve had to fend off pirates before.”
Malconio shook his head. “We’ve got one small arbalest. It’s all we ever needed against the few pirates that dare the wrath of the guild.”
“I suggest you set it up, then,” z’Acatto said.
“I suppose you’re right, old man. A little fight is better than none at all. And perhaps Netuno will smile on me. He has before.”
Five bells later, their pursuer lobbed a few experimental stones at them. They fell short, but not far short, and Malconio’s sailors stood nervously with their bows and set up their arbalest—which did indeed resemble a large crossbow. Anne could hear the sailors on the other ship now and see them scuttling about on the deck and in the rigging.
“We’ll be within their range long before they’re in ours,” Malconio said. “Ladies, I suggest you go below.” He glanced off toward the horizon, where black clouds were piling up. “It’s not often I wish for a storm, but you might pray to whatever saints you revere that that one catches us before they do. In a blow, we might be able to lose them.”
“I’ll stay up here,” Anne said.
“And do what?” Cazio asked. “Can you shoot a bow?”
“I could try.”
“We don’t have enough arrows to waste them,” Malconio said. “Go below. It’s my ship, and that’s an order.”
Anne prepared another objection, but let it fade behind her lips. Sir Neil had died because of her last poor decision. Malconio knew his business far better than she did.
“Come on, Austra,” Anne said.
“Take this,” Cazio said. He held out the hilt of a dagger.
“I have one,” she said.
“I don’t,” Austra said.
“You take it, then,” Cazio replied.
Austra took the weapon, but her face puckered. “I want to stay up here with you,” she said.
Cazio smiled and took Austra’s hand. “My brother is right this time,” he said. “Up here you would only be a distraction. With you safe below I can fight the way the saints intend me to.”
Austra lowered her eyes, then suddenly reached up and kissed Cazio on the lips.
“Don’t die,” she said.
“I won’t,” he assured her. “I’m not meant to die at sea. Go on, and be brave.”
She nodded and turned away, stumbling toward their cabin, trying vainly to hide her tears.
Cazio glanced at Anne then, and for a moment she couldn’t take her gaze away from his. She felt as if she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t have, but couldn’t form the words of an excuse.
Cazio broke the spell.
“Well, that’s one kiss for luck,” he said. “How about another?”
“That wasn’t a kiss for luck,” Anne said softly. “And you’re still a fool.”
Then she followed Austra.
“She’s right,” Malconio said, once the two women were out of sight. “You’re a fool, and playing at a fool’s game.”
“What could you possibly mean?” Cazio asked, irritated.
“Two girls. The one you’ve set your hopes on is the rofola—Diuvo knows why—but you’re cozying up to her friend.”
“I’ve no interest in Anne,” Cazio lied, “though if I did, it would be none of your business.”
“Your very apparent interest in her is about to get me killed, so it’s entirely my business,” Malconio said, “but I’ll let that pass. Still, it’s cruel to play with a girl’s heart.”
“Anne doesn’t have a heart.”
“I’m talking about the other one now.”
“Ah, but you just said we were about to be killed, so there’s no time for that to happen.”
“Yes, well, that’s your best hope.” To Cazio’s surprise, Malconio clapped him on the shoulder. “Stay under cover. You won’t be of any use until they actually board us, if they do.”
He started off.
“Wait a moment,” Cazio said.
His brother paused. “Only a moment.”
“What do you know about z’Acatto?”
Malconio shrugged. “Less than you, I should think. What do you mean?”
“A man in z’Espino—a man who knew him—called him Emrature.”
“That’s odd,” Malconio conceded.
“So I thought.”
“He did fight in the wars,” Malconio said. “Almost everyone did, even father.”
“Yes, but as a commander? Then why would he—?”
“Why would he dedicate his life to teaching the ill-behaved brats of a nearly destitute nobleman how to swing a sword around? I don’t know. Maybe you should ask him.”
“Have you ever tried asking him anything personal?”
Malconio smiled. “Once or twice, when I was too young to know better. But he’s always loved you, Cazio. You were different to him. It was you he stayed for.”
“Who killed our father, Malconio?”
His older brother’s features softened a bit. “Cazio, I’ve never understood you. Maybe when we were boys—we had a little fun, didn’t we? You were so serious and sober, like a little priest. Then after father died—”
“I don’t want to talk about this. And you don’t have time.”
“This may be the only time,” Malconio said. “After father died, you took to the sword as if you had no other life. Like any little boy, you were sworn to avenge his death. We wouldn’t tell you anything about the duel because we were afraid you would run away and try to find the man.”
“I would have.”
“But when you were older and—do not doubt this—the best dessrator in Avella, maybe in the whole Tero Mefio—you never asked, never tried to find out.”
“Because I didn’t care anymore,” Cazio replied. “Father was a fool. He frittered away our estates and got himself killed.”
“You fight duels every day,” Malconio said. “How can you fault father for fighting one? Especially when you know nothing of the circumstances?”
“I know he was hit in the back,” Cazio said softly. “I saw the body, Malconio. What kind of duelist gets hit in the back?”
Malconio’s face worked silently for a moment. “I didn’t see the fight, and neither did you,” he finally said. “Why do you suddenly care about this again?”
“I don’t know,” Cazio said. “It just popped into my head.”
“Z’Acatto saw the fight. He’s the one you need to talk to. But—father wasn’t so bad, Cazio. When our mother was still alive, he was a better man. A lot of him left with her.”
Another uncomfortable silence followed.
“Have you seen Chesco lately?” Cazio asked.
“Two months ago. He’s well. He’s got three ships of his own. You know, you’ve always been welcome to join us.”
“I can’t abandon our name and our home,” Cazio said. “I can’t.”
Malconio rolled his eyes. “Look around you,” he said. “You have—you just don’t know it yet.”
Cazio sighed and looked off at the distant storm. “It won’t get here in time to help us, will it?”
Malconio shook his head. “It’s not even coming this way.”
Anne felt a little queasy again as she sat on the edge of her cot. Austra was peering out through the thick panes of the window.
“They’re coming from backboard,” Anne said, “the other way.”
“I know,” Austra said stiffly. “It’s just—we should be up there.”
“They’re right,” Anne said. “We’d just be in the way.”
“We might be able to help,” Austra protested. “It’s not like we haven’t been in danger before.”
“Yes, but we don’t know anything about sailing or arbalests. And I think Captain Malconio hopes that if our enemies don’t see us there’s some small chance they’ll think they’re chasing the wrong boat.”
Austra shook her head. “Those men are guided by devils. They’ll never stop until we’re dead.”
“Until I’m dead,�
� Anne corrected. “It’s me they’re after, not the rest of you.”
Austra’s brow bunched. “You’re not thinking of running off again? You promised me you wouldn’t. Or are your promises to me no good now?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Anne demanded.
“Nothing.”
“Look, you’re the one spending all the time with Cazio. You’re the one who has no time for me, anymore,” Anne said.
Austra turned away and said something under her breath.
“What was that?” Anne asked.
“Nothing.”
“Tell me!”
Austra spun then, her face red. “You’ve been lying to me! Lying! Who are you?”
Anne stepped back from her sheer fury. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“I mean you know why they’re after you. You know, and yet you won’t tell me. And like you said, I’m going to get killed as dead as you, and so is Cazio, and z’Acatto—as dead as Neil MeqVren!”
“Don’t mention him!” Anne said.
“Why? Because it’s your fault he got killed?”
Anne’s growing anger collapsed into a lump in her throat, congealed fury and sorrow and frustration. She couldn’t say anything.
Which was fine. Austra had plenty more to say.
“Something happened to you at the coven. You see things other people don’t. You can do things other people can’t. I’ve been waiting for you to explain, but you aren’t going to, are you?”
“Austra—”
“You don’t trust me, do you? When was I ever anything but your loyal friend, even when it was dangerous for me?”
“You don’t understand, Austra. I don’t understand.”
Something struck the ship, hard, and they heard men yelling above deck.
“Well that’s not good enough!” Austra shrieked.
The sails of the Della Puchia began to drop as their pursuer threw a wind shadow over them, and moments later the first of the arbalest stones struck their bow with a hollow thud and bounced off into the water.
“That didn’t do much,” Cazio observed.
“They were just finding their range,” Malconio said grimly. “It will get worse.”
“They aren’t coming any closer.”
