by David Bell
As the gap narrowed, Kanesh eased his sword in its scabbard and took the grappling hook Ektan held out to him. The archers nocked their shafts. They all heard the pirate captain yelling orders and saw a crewman rush to the stern, thrust an oar into the sea and lean on it in an attempt to steer. Another man came up to the captain and handed him a helmet. The captain pressed it down on his head with his uninjured hand and drew a sword from his belt. As the warship’s bow drew close he brandished the sword in defiance at Kanesh who swung his grappling hook, ready to cast. Once more the arrows hissed on their deadly flight, one glancing from the captain’s helmet and others finding marks among the desperate rowers. Kanesh drew back his arm to throw the grapple.
“White water ahead!” came an urgent shout from the warship’s lookout.
“Great Potheidan! What is it now?”
“Reef or rocks, Commander, and dead ahead,” said Potyr calmly. “We must reduce speed. Now; or we will run aground.”
“He’ll get away,” snarled the commander in fury. “Helmsman, half ahead and steer to larboard, clear of that white water.”
The warship’s speed rapidly fell away. A few ship lengths ahead, waves topped with white foam could be seen breaking on jagged black rocks. The pirate captain stood on the stern of his ship waving his sword in mocking farewell as he drew out of reach once again.
Potyr watched carefully. “They have no lookout and the captain is hurling defiance at us when he should be intent on his course. Our work is done. We have only to watch and wait,” he said. There was something like sadness in his voice.
The sound of splintering, snapping timbers came clearly across the waves as the pirate ship struck the rocks at full speed, its bow rearing up like a horse attempting an impossible jump and forcing her stern low into the water. The jagged black points sliced through her strakes like the teeth of a saw, letting in the hungry sea. She listed heavily to larboard, flinging half of her crew overboard, and was then forced off the rocks by a heavy wave. The warship’s crew watched in horrified silence as she broke in two, fore and aft sections sticking up for a few moments while the men still left in her slid helplessly down into the waves, and then disappeared into the depths.
“Prepare to rescue survivors,” called the commander.
“Throw lines, but stand clear, Commander, or the wind will have us on that reef,” said Potyr. Wreckage and bodies bobbed all around them in the snapping waves. They pulled two men aboard but both had arrows in their backs and died before they could be tended. There was nothing else worth recovering and the sky was darkening fast.
“That’s enough,” said the commander at last. “Helmsman, take us about and set a course to join our eager friend.” To Potyr and Kanesh who had now joined them on the stern, he said, “I want us back in the shelter of that headland for the night. Tomorrow at dawn we will sail for Keftiu with the good news.”
The warship turned in a great circle leaving foam in her wake, and headed back for the coast of Kestera, her sister ship coming up with them on the way. Potyr stood for a long time on the stern looking back towards the place where the enemy ship had gone down. Kanesh saw him raise one arm in a salute of farewell and then go into the cabin.
They sat on shore in the dusk, warming themselves before a brightly burning fire of driftwood and eating a savoury meal of newly caught fish stewed with olives, beans and wild thyme. Further off, their crew were singing in celebration of their victory, as they judged it.
Relief at still being alive, thought Kanesh, listening to their laughter as they taunted the other crew for arriving too late for the action. The archers, he noticed, were sitting apart, soberly licking their bowls clean and counting their arrows. Ektan had wrapped a rough bandage round the calf of the archer hit by the javelin. There had been no chance to recover all of the bronze broadheads, and they were expensive. Still, maybe this time, seeing what had been done, they wouldn’t have their pay docked.
Ektan poured wine into their beakers. They drank, Potyr first allowing a few drops to fall to the ground and moving his lips in a silent prayer.
“Why did he turn away from you?” said the commander to his junior captain. “Why did he steer for the strait? He was bound to be lost in that sea.”
“He was under orders,” said Kanesh.
“Orders? What orders?”
“Not to be taken,” said Potyr.
“Who gives orders to a pirate?” said the young captain.
“Was he a pirate?” said Kanesh, so quietly that perhaps he was talking to himself.
A bright silver moon seemed to be racing past long shredded clouds, in and out of them, as if she were fleeing from the great star following her. Kanesh stood on the bow watching her flight with his mind going back to the time that he had watched it once before, when, lashing their exhausted horses, they had fled their pursuers along that moonlit shore so long ago. Everyone else was asleep, except for the lookouts; and Potyr, of course, who never seemed to sleep when the moon was full. He turned at the sound of a footsep on the deck behind him.
“Ah, master Ektan; not taking the chance to rest, then?”
“Never could sleep after action, sir. Well, we done for him at last.”
“We helped, old friend, but he got away in the end. Death was his means of escape. I wanted him alive; there was much we need to know that he could have told us.”
“Wouldn’t be too sure about that, sir. Men who can fight and handle a ship like he did don’t give much away, no matter how hard you try to make them talk.”
On the weather coast of Kestera there were many rock pools and the boy knew just the place to catch crabs. His mother would be pleased with the ones he had in his straw basket. He was about to leave when he saw something shining white under the water of one weed-fringed pool, something like a very big crab. He pulled it up from the sandy bottom and almost threw it back again in shock. He thought better of it and put the boar’s tusk helmet gingerly in the basket and covered it with seaweed in case some of the other boys saw it. He did not know what it was, but his father would be glad to have it, he thought.
Typhis gave out a great gobbling snore and woke up with a start and a thirst that needed immediate attention. He got up from the bench and looked round for a jug of wine, water, anything. Sharesh came over to him and offered him a long-necked pitcher. He emptied its contents down his throat and Namun put another into his hand.
“Where is everybody?” he croaked. He peered at Namun. “Where did he come from?”
“I think they are still playing the game,” said Sharesh. “I got tired of it, so I came back here.”
“I had to give the painter his brush back,” said Namun. “Then I bumped into Sharesh, so we came back together, to find you.”
Typhis glared at them suspiciously. They stared back with eyes full of innocence. He frowned, up-ended the second pictcher, emptied that, and wiped his hand across his mouth.
“You’ve been up to something, you two. I wouldn’t put it past you to have been wandering all over this place, poking your noses in places you shouldn’t be. Wait till we get back to the ship. I want a word with you. Get your things; we’re going.”
“Why, there you are,” said Pasipha, coming into the room and walking up to Sharesh. “Everyone has been looking for you.” She took his hands in hers, pressed them to her breast and brought her face very close to his. Her almond eyes were huge, dark and deep. She had on an intoxicating perfume. She whispered to him so low that the others could not hear. “And did you find your way to the secret place? Did you see anyone, or anything you wanted? Did you like the game? Yes, I think you did, a little bit, didn’t you? We do want you to play again. You do want to play, don’t you?” Sharesh felt himself beginning to nod, to say yes to her questions.
“My lady, the painter asked me to give a message to you. He says he needs you urgently. To have your decision on what he plans for you, for your picture. He awaits you in the outer chamber.”
She turned her he
ad at the voice and flashed her great eyes at Namun. She gave him a long calculating look. At last she smiled thinly and let go of Sharesh’s hands.
“Well, I must not keep an artist from his work, must I? Master helmsman, you are fatigued and your charges need to be in their beds. I bid you goodnight. You will find one of my grooms waiting at the gate with the carriage. I think we should meet again. I will let you know when.” She placed a hand on Namun’s shoulder and gripped it hard. “You must bring this young man with you. He interests me.” She left them staring after her in complete silence as she walked gracefully out of the room, leaving behind the fragrance of her perfume.
HEAR A VOICE ON THE WIND
Sekara had decided not to make any public announcement of the successful expedition against the pirates. Word would spread soon enough and that way would create a better impression of the authorities calmly going about the business of dealing with sea robbers in a routine but ruthless fashion. The Commander was informed of the outcome and ordered a special audience with the naval officers and Kanesh and Potyr to commend them. Merchants were reminded of the efforts that the Palace made on their behalf and of how they might assist with the costs of these expensive services. It was all very satisfactory. Almost all, that is; the only disappointment lay in not securing any prisoners. Where these robbers were coming from was still uncertain, and the uncertainty was disturbing.
Kanesh watched Sharesh and Namun going about their work again in the shipyard. Typhis had told him of their invitation to the Palace, to the dancing and storytelling, but nothing, of course, of the game, other than that Sharesh had taken part in it. Typhis’s casual mention of Pasipha’s presence set Kanesh thinking hard. Sharesh had said nothing about Pasipha or the game, but from the look on the boy’s face, it was clear something serious had happened, something at once frightening and thrilling. Namun had been part of it, or at least knew of it, he was sure. Namun must be questioned, but very subtly and discretly. Namun was someone to be reckoned with. He watched Sharesh carrying waterskins slung over his shoulder towards the thirsty shipwrights. The boy was growing up. Perhaps the time was coming, and coming soon, when he should go back to Kallista, to his mother, and Dareka. His initiation ceremony would have to be arranged.
Leilia had already talked to Namun and got the story out of him. She had seen a change in Sharesh and what Namun told her explained the anxiety she sometimes saw in the other boy’s face. Yet there was something else, something that was making him quieter, less carefree. The answer came to her when a few days later when she came across him sitting in the shade of a tamarisk tree, holding one of her bowls on his knee. It was half full of water and he was looking at his reflection in it as he smoothed his hand across his cheek. He glanced up when he heard her come near and, thinking to amuse him, she laughed and said he could borrow her obsidian mirror if he liked. He blushed and smiled sheepishly at her. He asked her where she kept it, and wasn’t she worried that he might crack it by looking into it, but his eyes held other questions. She sat down beside him and began to talk about ordinary things, how the shipwrights liked this kind of fish, and the seamen that kind, how the guards had chased away some snoopers the other day, how the work on the ship had quickened up after a delivery of timber, and so on. She gradually worked round to asking him about the visit to the Palace, what they had done, whom had they seen. He gave only vague answers at first, about the music and the storytelling, and then he told her how he had been drawn into the dance and had the bull mask over his face, but he hadn’t been frightened, and at the end of the dance the other dancers were kneeling round him, and wasn’t that strange? She asked had they done anything else and he became vague again, saying there had been a game of hide and seek and he got lost for a while in the dark passages, but in the end found the way back to the place where Typhis was waiting. Did he shiver for a moment, she wondered, when he said he was glad to see Typhis again? He seemed to read her thoughts.
“I wasn’t frightened, you know. It was rather, well, exciting.”
She smiled at him. No, you were not frightened, she thought. You were tempted, and that is worse.
Early the following day she explained to Kanesh that she had important business with, among others, one of the food suppliers in the port and would be away for most of the morning. Naudok had agreed that Namun could deal with his needs while she was away, a very rare privilege, she said archly, and one accorded only to Namun. Kanesh looked at her steadily.
“I have noticed that Namun has much to offer,” he said. “Of course you must go about your business as you think fit.”
Just before midday he was standing on the newly completed bow deck of the ship and saw her graceful figure treading the path through the dunes back to the bay. He was standing at the door of the workshop when she arrived, tired after her long dusty walk. She told him that she had chanced to meet the Lady Tuwea who said that negotiations to charter a ship for her return to Kallista with a cargo of goods being assembled in her husband’s warehouses were at an advanced stage. Potyr would be in command, with Typhis as helmsman and, of course, the Lord Kanesh would be welcome to make the passage too, if he so wished.
“I expect Merida will want an eyewitness account of progress on the new ship,” said Kanesh. “Indeed. Oh, I forgot: the Lady Tuwea expects Sharesh to accompany her.”
“Then we must consider arrangements. How fortunate that you happened to meet the Lady Tuwea. I trust you managed to complete your other business, too. Perhaps I should alert the captain and the helmsman. They have not said anything of this so far, but I expect they will be glad of some relief from the quarry trade.”
A messenger from Merida’s agent arrived the next morning repeating much of what Leilia had said and adding that the chartered ship would in fact be a vessel loaned from the Palace fleet, by the gracious permission of the deputy commander, in recognition of the services performed by the Lord Kanesh and Captain Potyr on the recent expedition against pirates.
“Reply that we should sail with the new moon,” said Potyr. “We will need to get the feel of the ship first. I should like to crew her with some of my men from the Dolphin. They would welcome a chance to see their families again on Kallista.”
“Is that all?” said Kanesh to the messenger.
“The Lady Tuwea’s father, Lord Gerax, enquires whether you you caught any hawks on Kalana, sir.”
“Tell him the only hawks they saw were sea hawks,” laughed Typhis, “but they didn’t manage to bring any any back.”
The timbers propping her on the launch way could not hide the ship’s long graceful lines now. Most of the recent work had been on her prow which was high and raked, tapering to a stempost that Naudok had designed to lie into the wind, as he put it. The head shipwright had said there were drawings of how it was to be carved. The cambered bow deck was finished, ready for caulking in fact, but the sticky black oily paste that dried out hard had not yet come in on any of the ships from Gubal. The carpenters were hard at work now on sawing and planing the heavy baulks that would be laid athwartships to support the main deck and give her lateral strength. Naudok had calculated that no midline deck girder would be needed if some of these were supported by centrally sited stanchions and the result was a much larger and more easily accessible hold space. The work required the most careful measuring and shaping of the ends of the baulks where they fitted into notches in the upper strakes, and of the curved pieces that the shipwrights called knees set in below the baulk ends for extra support. The work was consequently very painstaking and, because Naudok demanded the utmost accuracy, he had no hesitation in rejecting any piece of work he did not like.
“Merida is not going to be happy when we tell him the ship will not be ready this year,” said Kanesh.
“The sun began to turn back some days ago,” said Typhis. “It’s hard to believe it on a day as hot as this, but that means winter for a lot of sailors in another two moons.”
“What do you think, Potyr?”
&
nbsp; “Everone follows his own rule. I know captains who put to sea much later than that, if it is open-water work and the money is good. Think of the Kinaani ships plying the Black Land sealane: they need the wind that comes with what they call ship winter. Some refuse to sail after they see the birds flying back to their warm winter homes and others say keep working until the time of the new wine, then drink it, but lay up your ship. I would only sail after that tight little group of Blue Sisters has left the night sky if I were searching for a lost friend.”
“As I understand it,” said Kanesh, “that is about the time that the birds fly home, as well. Perhaps they know where the sailing stars go in the winter.”
“The main decking will be finished but there is much work to do at the stern and that takes time, more time than usual with this ship, according to Naudok. Then there is the mast, the yards, the rigging, none of which has even been started. The mast will be so high that it will need special standing rigging and bronze eyes fastened deep into the deck balks to hold it. Add to those all the finishing and fittings and you might get her into the water, but she could not be taken anywhere. No, she is here to be worked on until we see the sailing stars rise again next year. Then she will be good and ready for her first trials.”
