“I don’t believe that nonsense,” said Azriyqam. “I used to dream my mother would save me from this floating prison and when did that ever come true?” Anger rose in her. “I don’t know how to save this ship, and for a handful of copper I’d burn it myself!”
Merav shoved her face into Azriyqam’s, and she recoiled. “Then you might as well kill us both now,” she cried. “Because Foreseeings come true unless they’re acted upon. And you’re the daughter of Shaaliym, the most powerful Foreseer we had in decades!” She flicked a wing at Avnai. “And if he dies, it will be you who kills him, not me!”
And then she was back in her seeming trance, whispering Commands, as if she had never spoken. But her face was a mask of rage behind her closed eyelids.
Shock and rage warred in Azriyqam. Shakily, she got to her feet. What did she mean? No, it’s clear what she meant. How…how dare she mean what she meant?
Azriyqam staggered out of the room. She was past Elazar before she realized tears of anger and fear were streaming down her face. He and Zhad escorted her back to their sleeping chamber. Slowly, she told them what Avnai had said to her.
“And what did Merav say to you?” Elazar asked, blandly. “It may prove to be important.”
Azriyqam closed her eyes so that she would not have to look at anyone. “She said that if I ignored my dream that it would be my fault if Avnai died!”
“Foreseeing is a well-known phenomenon, but I don’t know whether Merav—especially as overworked as she is—is liable to understand all of its implications.”
Reluctantly, Azriyqam said, “Senaatha said something similar. On the island, before we left. That I had the Foresight like my mother.” Her face contorted. “My mother’s Foresight left me a prisoner on this damned Ship for my entire life, and I lost her forever! If that’s what the Foresight demands, I want nothing to do with it, not ever again!” She felt as if a sore had burst inside her. Great racking sobs drove her to the floor, and she felt as if she would vomit bile, but nothing came.
Then she became aware of Zhad holding her. Zhad, who had always been there ever since Cana had withdrawn. The world spun. How had she come here? How had she come back here, again, when she had finally found a safe place?
“There is another way,” Zhad whispered.
She looked up at him through blurred eyes. “There is?”
“Sure. We can do what we did the first time. The Forecastle has its own boats. If Avnai’s taught you how to rig the winddrivers, we can escape the same way we did last time. We’re closer to home now than we were then. We can get Avnai home where there are sorcerers to spare for healing. The holds are still the holds: dark and mostly unguarded. I should be able to find a spare winddriver. We’ll be back in what, probably three days?”
Elazar spoke. “Avnai might not survive the trip.”
“He might not survive staying here longer than three days anyway,” said Zhad.
“A cogent point.” Elazar sighed. For the first time, Azriyqam saw her mentor’s reserve fracture. “I promised Their Majesties that I would keep you safe. It is what I am sworn to do. Merav, Senaatha, and I. Senaatha is gone, Merav is doing all she can but may break any moment.” His head came up and he looked at her. His voice firmed.
“But my crown prince put you in command.”
Azriyqam felt herself poised in the moment, as if she were about to launch herself from the tallest mountain. She had absolute freedom here and now and she would bear absolute responsibility for her choice.
Responsibility. She could not get away from that hated name.
If she told Elazar and Zhad that she wanted to escape, to leave Ekkaia to be burned, and Tselah and all her followers with it, they would follow her. She could give herself and Zhad the revenge they had always wanted: Ekkaia burning to ashes on the waves and sinking. She could say that she had followed Senaatha’s advice; the Foreseeing wasn’t to be trusted. The old dragon had said so herself.
But she knew that this was not what Senaatha had meant.
She could go home and tell her father she had done what she had to, and in a burst of clarity she saw that he would believe her, no matter what. Because he loved her. Because he would have her back, and Avnai, too. She could tell Avnai she had done all she could and failed. No one would say differently. She could leave Tselah alone, as Tselah had left her. As Haraad had left Avnai, helpless in the face of death.
All she had to do to live was to be like Haraad. To leave her enemies to die because she wanted them dead. The sour taste of vomit rose in the back of her throat.
She gripped Zhad’s hands, hard. “No, Zhad,” she said, her voice firm. “Not yet.” She met Elazar’s eyes. “Avnai wanted us to save the Ship. For that, I will need you, Elazar. More than I ever did for a duel.”
He inclined his head. “Kyria?”
“Avnai said you could tell me about offering Crown Land…and asylum to Tselah.”
The old halfdragon’s brows drew down, and then rose in understanding. “I see.”
They talked for a long time. Then they sent for Tselah.
* * *
It took some time for Tselah to arrive. First, she said that Azriyqam could come and see her if it was so damned important. This, Elazar said, would not do, and sent back a sharp message. Eventually, Tselah arrived.
Her eyes widened as Zhad escorted her in. Azriyqam sat in the room’s only chair, the finest they had been able to find in the rebel-held section of the Ship. They had raised it on a dais of flat boxes. Elazar stood behind her. Azriyqam felt slightly ridiculous, and Tselah must have thought she looked it.
“What is this?” she said, incredulity seasoning her voice. “You wanted to talk to me?”
“The Princess Azriyqam wishes to treat with the high captain of the Century Ship Ekkaia,” said Elazar.
She snorted. “I’ll just go and fetch him for you?”
“We had thought that your contention was that Haraad was not the legitimate high captain of this vessel,” he said. “Is that not the case?”
“Well, yes it is, but—”
“If he is not the high captain, then who is?”
Tselah hesitated. “The sailing master is next in the chain of command. Garth Elam should be acting high captain.”
“He is following Haraad, is he not?”
“Yes.”
“Then he cannot be high captain,” said Elazar. “An officer who is following another mutinous officer is no officer at all, is he?”
“If you have brought me here to have some sort of debate about legal niceties, I have other things to do,” Tselah said angrily. “Haraad is acting high captain whether we like it or not.”
“If he is, then I am wasting all of our time, and you are guilty of mutiny for defying his legal orders. We are deadly serious, Tselah. Is Haraad the acting high captain and you a mutineer, or not?”
Tselah fumed. “Haraad has no right to be acting high captain. He should be on trial. And I am no mutineer.”
“Then if Haraad is no acting high captain, he is a mutineer, isn’t he?”
Tselah eyed Elazar suspiciously. “That…would seem to follow.”
“If he is a mutineer, then what does that make his followers?”
“Mutineers,” said Tselah, cautiously. Clearly, she had never thought about it this way.
“If that is the case,” said Elazar, using the teaching tones Azriyqam knew so well, “then who is the acting high captain of this Ship?”
“I don’t know!” said Tselah.
“Yes, you do. The Princess Azriyqam knows. That is why we have invited you here. Acting High Captain Tselah.”
Her mouth worked.
Azriyqam felt both pity and triumph. She’s just as out of her depth and afraid as I am. Maybe even more.
“As the high captain,” pressed Elazar, not giving her time to think, “you are fully empowered to treat with the Princess Azriyqam, representing the Crown and Throne of Evenmarch of the Near Islands. Will you hear her proposal of
aid?”
Tselah’s eyes hardened. “You can’t tell me that she can speak for your king!”
“High Captain, in case you have not understood, Lieutenant Avnai is the heir to the Crown. That gives him full power to make binding treaties in his father’s name. He, being gravely wounded, has passed this power to his half-sister, whom I advise. You stand in need of help. I repeat: will you listen to the princess’s proposals?”
“You are refugees from Haraad even more than we are. What help can you give?”
“We might—just as an example—be able to stop him from sending men down the foresail to attack you from above,” said Azriyqam, speaking for the first time. “Or have you forgotten?”
“No. That was well done, but what can you do besides help us hold Haraad off?” Despair crept into her voice. “He’s practically won.”
“That is what we are here to discuss,” said Elazar. “Are you ready to listen, then?”
Tselah nodded.
“Then please be seated.” He gestured to a chair just away from the door. She sat.
The trappings of state are important, Elazar had said, when they had transformed the cabin into a beggar’s throne room. The ceremonies of power evolved for a reason: they work. Azriyqam saw the truth of it, now. By taking command of the room’s appearance, of Tselah’s position, they had achieved a kind of power over the process. A very shaky kind of power. But it was time for her to speak.
“We know how to modify your winddrivers to make them more powerful, and to function without access to the sails. We can stop this Ship dead in the ocean. Maybe even steer it for you.”
“You’re going to take the winddrivers? The two of you? We couldn’t even hold them, and you’ll take them back?”
“The three of us will,” said Azriyqam. She gestured, and Zhad cleared his throat and came up behind Tselah. “At your service,” he said, bowing in her direction.
She barked a laugh. “Oh, of course, because a blind boy makes all the difference!”
“He very much does,” said Azriyqam, leaning forward and putting steel in her voice. “Without Zhad, Avnai’s bones, and most likely mine, would be dangling from the starving cage. He makes the difference like two twisted freaks make the difference between holding this forecastle and losing it without your topmen. Are you going to keep underestimating us, Captain? Or will you consider that you may have something to learn?”
Flushing darkly, Tselah sat back. “But how can you make winddrivers so much more powerful? And use them without sails? That’s impossible.”
“Meaning no disrespect, Captain,” said Elazar, “but your people, while gifted sailors, have only rudimentary knowledge of your powerful enchantments. You create them by rote, using the same formulas, endlessly repeated. All the Near Islands have a better understanding. It is one of the reasons we were able to consistently find and raid you. A winddriver is a product of enchantment. Nothing more.”
“If you can do that, Haraad would be forced to come to terms with us,” Tselah breathed.
“No,” said Azriyqam.
Tselah’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
“We are not offering to help you negotiate a surrender. We are offering you asylum in the kingdom of Evenmarch. We are offering to take you there and bring Haraad to justice as a criminal against both of our peoples.”
Tselah went pale brown and her jaw dropped. “No. You’re asking for us to surrender? To you? To become pirates? Impossible!”
Elazar raised a finger. “We are not asking for your surrender. We are asking for your allegiance. We offer you land, to support yourselves and this Ship. We will grant your families titles in the kingdom, equivalent to your ranks. We offer honorable citizenship in exchange for fealty.”
“Fealty to a pirate king?”
“You prefer fealty to a mutineer? Mutiny is only punished when the mutineers lose. In fact, it appears that losing is what will make the difference between mutineers and loyal sailors in this case. Make no mistake, this is your choice.”
Tselah’s lips pulled back from her teeth. “If you do not help us, you, too, will die. When the Consortium you fear so much attacks, you will go down into the sea with us!”
“No,” said Azriyqam. “We will simply fly from this place. One day, we will be gone.”
“You would abandon your brother to his fate with us? You would just leave him to die?”
“He’ll die anyway if we stay and do not change the Ship’s course,” said Azriyqam, trying to keep her voice hard, though she felt tears starting in her eyes. “Why would it be better to die with him? Besides, you didn’t know we could fly. I wouldn’t count on knowing everything we can do.”
“You heartless bitch,” said Tselah. “You’d threaten that, rather than allow us to go Home.”
“Come, Captain,” Elazar said. “What else can you do? You cannot overpower Haraad. If we steer you to the Grove, you will be punished as mutineers. If we stop you dead in the water with the winddrivers, you will eventually be overpowered by Haraad and be killed. Only the kingdom and its navy can offer you a chance of living with your honor intact.”
Tselah’s face fell upon hearing it laid out so baldly. When she spoke, she sounded even younger than Merav. “All we wanted to do was go Home. That’s why we resisted Haraad. All we wanted was Home. So many of us have never even seen it.” At last, she raised her eyes. “I must speak with my officers. I must tell them of your proposal.”
Azriyqam realized she had won. She could not have imagined up until that point it was possible to feel triumph, revulsion, exultation, and regret all at the same time. Elazar had said that this was no surrender. It was an absolute truth, and a terrible lie, she saw. The whole future Tselah had imagined, all she had planned for her life, would have to be surrendered.
“Please let us know when you have come to a decision,” said Elazar. Tselah nodded and left the cabin, walking slowly.
“Elazar?”
“Yes, kyria?”
“Would my father want us to do this?”
Elazar hesitated for a long moment. “I don’t know. If I did, I’d do my best to obey what I thought his commands would be. As it is, I have only my duty. Which is to serve you and your brother. I do not know what your father would want. But he would be proud of what you are trying to do.”
“Thank you,” she said again. “Get some rest. We all need it.”
Elazar nodded. She sensed him preparing for bed, but she was asleep herself as soon as her head hit the lumpy pillow. Still, it felt like no time at all before Zhad was shaking her awake again.
“What is it now?” she mumbled.
“Tselah was just here,” he said. “She said to tell you, ‘Yes.’”
* * * * *
Chapter 17
Azriyqam paced the length of the forecastle’s highest level and looked at the siege lines drawn around it. The makeshift wall that had divided the ship when they had arrived had been moved forward and reinforced. The oil lamps of the barricade were lit, providing the only illumination in the—thank the dead and absent gods—still overcast and lightless sky.
“Why doesn’t he just attack? It’s not like we’d stop them.”
Elazar answered, “Because, as with any small rebellion, the most motivated fighters are on our side. Nobody on his side wants to slaughter their friends and relatives. Still less do they want to be killed by them. Not now, not so close to home. So, they will wait until they get home to the Grove to let the problem be solved there.”
She did not know—could not know, since the loss of the skyship and its charts—how long it would be before the Ekkaia arrived at the island where the Consortium’s trap lay waiting, but the Century Ship had corrected course and spread sails soon after the forecastle had been besieged. Wherever it was, Ekkaia was now making straight for it.
“Where are they?” Azriyqam muttered, for what must have been the dozenth time.
“Princess, stop pacing and muttering. A ruler must not only comma
nd but appear to command. More important than that, she must appear in command of herself.”
“I’m not a ruler,” she said.
“You are a ruler, right now. You rule these people.”
“Tselah and her council rule these rebels.”
He shook his head. “No. You’ve bent them to your will. They are doing as you desire. Therefore, you are the ruler. Whether you remain the ruler is an open question, and the answer may change because of your conduct.”
She drew in a breath with effort. “I’m just so worried about them.”
“Even so, showing your worry does them no good now and can only hurt you later, when you’ll need their confidence.”
“Why are you being so deferential all of a sudden?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You can’t tell me?”
“You’re trying to build me up, aren’t you?” she whispered. “You know most of this plan is your idea. I couldn’t ever have convinced Tselah to support us by myself.”
“Then how fortunate the Crown’s house is to have such competent and loyal advisors.”
“Here, no one would ever credit another for their own idea. They’d want promotion too badly.”
“I can’t be promoted, as I am exactly where I want to be.”
“Trapped among rebels on an enemy ship, sailing into the clutches of worse enemies?” asked Azriyqam.
“Well,” Elazar murmured, “I was speaking more in generalities, but the devils are always in the details. As I was trying to teach you, display calm.”
“Where do you get this calm?” she asked, more seriously. “When everything depends on our success, and you can’t do anything about it?”
“In the knowledge that I am doing my duty, protecting you, your brother, and the kingdom. Princess, the world I grew up in ended soon after you were born. That’s the day the Consortium attacked. I lost almost half my family, my father, two brothers, and a sister, friends I miss greatly. I was already skilled with the blade, but I had to learn an entirely new way to fight. The kingdom we had known was gone forever. I cannot lose that again. However, the Crown was the same. The land was the same. My oaths were the same. And there were still people I cared for. It was a hard lesson. But I survived.” He gripped her elbow in his two strong fingers. “Unless the cost is your soul, Princess—survive.”
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