Angus Wells - The God Wars 01 (31 page)

 
          
"That
craft has the lines of a warboat," ek'Jemm announced. "It seems
corsairs follow us."

 
          
Calandryll
lowered the glass and faced the captain, his heart beating dully. "Do the
corsairs sail so early?" he
asked.

 
          
"No."
The Kand shook his head. "Mine is the first craft to make the spring
crossing. And no pirate vessel came after. That warboat set sail from
Lysse."

 
          
"Perhaps
it lay in wait."

 
          
Calandryll
hoped the captain would agree: if not, the vessel was likely sent by Azumandias.
Might carry the warlock on board. But Rahamman ek'Jemm disappointed him. He
shook his head again and said, "No. It sailed from Lysse. I think it
chases you."

 
          
Calandryll
passed the spyglass back.

 
          
"What
will you do?"

 
          
"Pray
to Burash we can outran her. If not, fight. Or..."

 
          
He
paused studying Calandryll speculatively.

 
          
"Or?"

 
          
"Give
them what they want," ek'Jemm said calmly. "I'll not lose my ship for
one hundred varre."

 
          
“You
made a bargain!” Calandryll stared at the man,
aware that outrage—or
trepidation, he was not sure which—lent his protest a shrill edge. He cleared
his throat, self-consciously deepening his voice. "You undertook to bring
us safe to
Kandahar
."

           
Ek'Jemm ducked his head in the
direction of the war-boat, without the spyglass no more than a speck on the
blue horizon.

 
          
"I
undertook to carry two passengers to Mherut'yi. There was no mention of
pursuit."

 
          
Calandryll
clutched the hilt of his sword, wondering if he should draw the weapon: set the
point to the Kand's throat and insist he fight if necessary. He dismissed the
impulse as senseless: were Bracht with him they might bring it off, but even
were the mercenary fit enough to back him they would still face all of
ek'Jemm's crew; and their pursuers. He thought of offering a bonus, but
dismissed that, too. The funds Varent had provided were needed to get them to
Gessyth: without them, they would be stranded in a foreign land. And what coin
he did carry was scarcely sufficient to compensate ek'Jemm for the risking of
his vessel. And if the captain knew how much they carried, he might take it for
himself. It seemed diplomacy was his only resort.

 
          
"Lord
Varent would take it ill should you deliver us into the hands of his
enemies," he said, doing his best to make his voice coolly threatening.
"You'd likely find yourself banned from Aldarin harbor."

 
          
The
Kand studied him for a moment, lips pursed, then said, "How should Lord
Varent find out?"

 
          
"He'd
know," said Calandryll. "My word on it."

 
          
Ek'Jemm
chuckled, glancing astern.

 
          
"You've
nerve enough, I'll grant you that. And there's time in hand to make such
decisions—that sea wolf's fast, but she'll not catch us for a day or two if
this wind holds. Perhaps we can outdistance her. If not, well. . . I'll decide then."

 
          
"It
would be worth your while to fight," Calandryll promised rashly.
"Lord Varent would reward you well."

 
          
Ek'Jemm
nodded. "Perhaps. But what good a reward if I lie with Burash?"

 
          
Calandryll
could think of no appropriate answer and the Kand chuckled again, humorlessly.
"You see my dilemma? I've a boat and crew to think of. Best pray we can
outrun her."

 
          
Calandryll
grimaced, turning to stare aft. The sky was darkening, the sun already touching
the western horizon, and the warboat was lost in the obfuscation.

 
          
"The
Sea Dancer’s
fleet enough," ek'Jemm said, a trifle more kindly,
"perhaps we can lose her in the night. Perhaps our arbalests will put her
off."

 
          
He
patted the great crossbow affectionately, then turned Dack to the wheel.

 
          
"Now
clear my deck. Keep out of my crew's way— we've some sailing to do,- and light
no lanterns."

 
          
Dismissed,
Calandryll climbed from the poop, returning to the cabin, where Bracht lay
sleeping. The freesword stirred as he entered, a dark shape in the shadowy
interior. Calandryll set the bucket down, cursing as he rose to bump his head
against the low ceiling.

 
          
"Is
tnere no lantern?" asked the Kern.

 
          
"We
run without lights," Calandryll said, and explained the situation.

 
          
"Azumandias?"
Bracht grunted. "Did Varent's magic not conceal our tracks, then?"

 
          
He
seemed almost pleased at the prospect of such failure, as if it justified his
distrust of magic. Calandryll shrugged, the gesture unseen in the darkness, and
found the nostrum, administering a further dose. Bracht drank the potion and
swung his feet to the floor, groaning. He was clearly too weak to fight and
Calandryll pushed him back.

 
          
"There's
nothing you can do," he advised. "Ek'Jemm says it will take the
warboat a day or two to catch us if the wind holds, and we might lose her in
the night. Better that you rest."

 
          
The
Kern sighed and fell back across the bunk. "If we'd gone horseback, like
civilized folk ..."

 
          
Mehemmed's
face appeared in the hatchway then, nostrils wrinkling as he smelled the cabin.
"I've brought you food," he said in thickly accented Lyssian.
"Open the port and I'll fetch something to clear the stink."

 
          
He
set two platters down and disappeared, returning moments later with sticks of
incense. He set them about the cabin and stmck a spark from a tinderbox,
lighting them. They gave off no glow, but sweet-scented smoke drifted from the
tips, mingling with the fresh sea air to overwhelm the sour odor of Bracht's
vomit.

 
          
"That's
better," the Kand youth declared, grinning. "How d'you feel?"

 
          
"Nervous,"
Bracht grunted.

 
          
Mehemmed
chuckled. "It's exciting isn't it? I've sailed with the captain five
voyages now and we've never been chased."

 
          
Calandryll
stared at him, noticing that he wore a long dagger sheathed in his sash,
surprised by his enthusiasm.

 
          
"Aren't
you afraid?" he asked.

 
          
"I
suppose so." Mehemmed shrugged. "But it's still exciting. I doubt the
warboat can catch us, anyway—we're running under full sail and the captain
thinks the wind will hold for a while. Likely we'll lose the warboat tonight."

 
          
His
optimism was cheering, but misplaced.

 
          
The
next morning, while Bracht still slept, Calandryll made for the poop deck.
Rahamman ek'Jemm stood by the wheel as though he had stood there all night, and
would stand there throughout the voyage, though now a wide-bladed sword was
belted on his sizable waist. His green eyes narrowed as Calandryll appeared.

 
          
"It's
still there." He stabbed a thumb to the northeast. Calandryll squinted
into the glare and saw nothing.

 
          
"Here."
Ek'Jemm thrust the spyglass toward
him

 
          
"She's
hull down on the skyline. We've kept distance, no iqflre."

 
          
^Calandryll
took the glass and raised it to his eye, wine- ing as the new risen sun was
magnified, traversing the horizon until he located the dark square of sail. It
seemed to him the Kand was pessimistic: surely the warboat had fallen back a
little?

 
          
"If
we can only hold distance we must reach Mherut'yi before she closes," he
said.

 
          
"If
this wind holds," ek'Jemm nodded, "but only if it holds. I smell a
change coming, and that sea wolf carries oars—which gives her an advantage if
we've no wind."

 
          
Calandryll
gestured at the arbalest. "If they must use oars, can you not cripple
them?"

 
          
The
Kand shrugged. "If we're lucky, but a warboat's hard to stop. You'd best
hope Burash accepted that offering you made."

 
          
"Yes,"
he agreed, and went in search of breakfast.

 
          
He
carried two plates to the cabin, finding Bracht awake, measuring the nostrum
into a beaker of stale water.

 
          
"I
feel recovered," the freesword declared. "We must obtain more of this
when we sail for Gessyth."

 
          
He
seemed closer to his old self. The greenish pallor that had colored his face
was faded and his eyes were brighter. Calandryll saw that the bucket stood
empty, and when he set the plates down, Bracht took one without demur. He
tossed the slab of salted pork out through the window, but ate the bread and
cheese. Better still, he kept it down, and when he was finished, declared his
intention of going on deck.

 
          
Almost
immediately he faltered, looking wildly round for something to clutch as the
Dancer
rolled beneath his feet. Calandryll took his arm and helped him to the rail,
which he held firmly, bracing himself against the swaying planks.

 
          
"Ahrd
knows," he muttered grimly, "this is no way for a man to travel."

 
          
Calandryll
grinned, delighted that his comrade regained his composure.

 
          
"Now,"
said Bracht, "I'd see this boat that chases us."

 
          
Ek'Jemm
was irritated by their presence, but passed the Kem his spyglass, smiling
maliciously as Bracht tottered uncomfortably to the arbalest, steadying himself
against the crossbow as he peered through the glass.

           
"So that's a warboat," he
murmured. "What's that carved on the bow?"

 
          
"The
bow?" Calandryll snatched the glass from his hands. "You can see the
bow?"

 
          
He
adjusted his weight, compensating for the pitch of the deck, and saw the
slender craft had gained on them. It no longer lay hull down below the horizon,
but was closer, the dragon's head prow clearly visible.

 
          
"Give
me the glass."

 
          
Ek'Jemm's
harsh voice rang in his ear and he passed the telescope to the Kand. The man
stood for long moments with the leather tube pressed to his eye, then grunted,
turning to peer up at his sails.

 
          
"Burash
rot them," he muttered. "It's as I feared."

 
          
"The
wind drops," Calandryll told Bracht. "And the warboat carries
oars."

 
          
Bracht
followed the captain's gaze and nodded, glancing at Calandryll, who in turn
stared at the sails. It seemed that in the time they had emerged from their
cabin and climbed to the poop the wind had lessened. It still blew, but the
Sea
Dancer
lost headway. Ek'Jemm bellowed orders and seamen clambered aloft,
adjusting the canvas. The captain mouthed a curse and ordered his helm brought
over. The vessel swung slightly to starboard, the sails filling again. Ek'Jemm
said, "Go below."

 
          
"We'd
not be handed over like cattle for the slaughtering," said Bracht, his
free hand set about the falchion's hilt.

 
          
"I
think," said the captain, "that if you draw that sword you'll fall
down."