Regent

by Brian Rathbone

  * * *

  Kenward paced from bow to stern and tried to avoid making eye contact with Pelivor, knowing the man was near his breaking point and there was nothing he could say to ease the burden. For years the Slippery Eel had been among the fastest ships on the water and had evaded even the most determined pursuers, but she was weighed down, and the ships behind them moved faster than any he'd seen before. He wondered again if the unnatural storm drove them to such great speed or if some new design allowed them to cut the waves faster than ships that had come before. Using his looking glass, he could see nothing that distinguished those ships from any other, and he came, once again, to the conclusion that some malevolent force drove them forward. The sense of impending evil was the most telling factor, and Kenward felt a rare wave of fear overtake him. Despite his efforts to hide the fear from his crew, he knew they could sense it, and that alone was enough to put them all on edge.

  Watching Pelivor from behind, he prayed the gods had not lost patience with him, and after tossing another gold coin into the waves, he hoped it was enough. A dim glow pulsed around Pelivor's hands, and Kenward dared to hope, but nothing happened. Soon after, the glow faltered and the sailor lowered his hands, his frustration clear in his posture. Again Kenward ran through his options, and again he came to the conclusion that nothing he could do would save them. Catrin's stonework thrones, cut from the mines deep below Ohmahold, were too heavy for his men to move without rope, pulleys, and substantial frameworks--none of which would be available until they reached the Godfist. He'd known the risk and accepted it, but now their precious cargo became their biggest liability, and jettisoning the other heavy cargo would destabilize the ship, only making the problem worse. Pelivor was their only hope, and that hope was as thin as gossamer.

  "They're gonna catch us soon," came the voice of Bryn, the bosun, and Kenward turned to him with an annoyed glare for stating the obvious. "I know we can't unload the thrones, but if we just keep going as we are, we'll have to fight them on their terms."

  "What are you suggesting?"

  "Do something they won't be expecting," Bryn said with a wink, the freckles standing out on his reddened skin, which never seemed to tan, and his blue eyes twinkled.

  Kenward grinned, a plan forming in his mind.