Dark Empress (65 page)
“This had better work, Samir. I’m not going to see you skinned.”
Samir smiled.
“I have no intention of ending my days bobbing pink and white in a barrel, Ghassan. We’ve laid our cards on the table and so has the council. Now we just need to know what hand the Governor holds.”
Ghassan nodded.
“We’ll find out first thing tomorrow, I suspect.”
In which the fleet sails
Ghassan leaned on the rail, wincing. His back had begun to ooze a little this morning and Samir had worried enough to consult the doctor, who’d merely become irritated and incensed that the taller brother was being too active and not resting enough to allow the wound to heal properly.
Samir gave him an admonishing glare as he squeezed his eyes tight and fought down the sharp pain.
“It’s alright, Samir. He says I’m in no immediate danger and, given the situation, I think that’s a better than average estimate.”
He gestured at the command deck in front.
The Dark Empress had set off at first light, leading the other eleven vessels from the docks of Lassos and heading into the nightmare reefs in thick fog; the most dangerous time to attempt a passage of the sharp teeth that protected the island. The three members of the council had come aboard just in time to sail, with an escort of more than a dozen hand-picked men chosen from the crew of the other, more dependable, ships.
Halcar was taking no chances with Samir’s potential treachery and had organised the ship and the fleet so that those vessels who were likely to be more sympathetic to him, under Captains Faerus and Orin, had been manipulated into ‘safe’ positions, far back in the line from the Empress and between more traditional captains who owed their success to the council. Ghassan could see no way that Samir could pull anything out of this mess.
“What will we do about that?” he asked very quietly, gesturing subtly in the direction of the three masters of Lassos who stood side by side, leaning over the rail at the front of the command deck, keeping a close watch on the activity on deck, while their guard kept a close watch on their safety.
Samir shrugged.
“They’re not a problem. If they don’t deal with it themselves, we’ll handle them when the time is right.”
“Samir, we are rather seriously running out of time.”
“On the contrary, my dear brother. We have all the time in the world. Quite possibly,” he added, grinning, “we have the whole rest of our lives.”
Ghassan glared at him.
“I just wish you’d tell me everything. I’ve got the main plan straight in my head. It’s a good plan… or at least it would be if the council weren’t hog-tying us. But there are so many things you haven’t explained. How are we going to rally your friends? What are you going to do about the three councillors and their thugs? How are you going to stop the others from fleeing back to the island? I’m just too nervous about the uncertainty of everything.”
Samir nodded.
“I understand, but there really is nothing to worry about. In fact, I think something is about to fall into place that I’d only tentatively hoped for. The only thing that still makes me tense is the governor. What will he do?”
Ghassan shrugged.
“He’ll do as you asked. It’s to his advantage.”
Samir nodded with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
“That may be so, but there are other ways he could look at it. He’d be taking a fairly serious risk and putting his own career in jeopardy. And that’s even if he trusts or believes me, which is a fairly tall order on its own.”
Ghassan nodded.
“I don’t worry about the governor. It’s the problems that are a little closer that worry me.”
“Regardless, Ghassan, right now we need to prepare and steel ourselves. All hell is about to break loose and we need to be ready. Can you see how far back the other ships are?”
Ghassan narrowed his eyes as he turned and peered over the rear rail.
“Not really. The fog’s too thick. I can see two behind us, and they’re keeping very close, paying attention to the signals.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I suppose you’ve given thought to the possibility of having your man give a false signal? You could scupper the whole fleet within the rocks. Not a ship would make it out.”
Samir shook his head.
“There are good people back there that I wouldn’t leave behind. Besides, I’ve only got one of the compasses. I don’t know yet which captain was given the other, but it’ll be somewhere near the back and someone that Halcar trusts. Even with the chaos I’d cause, it’s more than possible that a ship or two would escape back to Lassos and with the compass to boot.”
Ghassan nodded.
“You’re right, of course. I just don’t like uncertainty.”
“Cheer up” Samir smiled. “We’re about to leave the reefs.”
“A great relief, I’m sure” Ghassan replied sourly.
The last few glistening rocks with their sad and pleading occupants slid toward the bow of the ship and washed past in the oppressive, velvety silence, the figures pawing at the timbers as though they could help. Ghassan shuddered. No matter how many times he ever passed these reefs, that sight would still make him shudder.
Tensely, he watched the slick rocks drift past and into their wake, where his attention was drawn, as the mist thinned and finally evaporated, to the Hart’s Heart behind them, captained by a particularly notorious man named Gharic, and currently also host to two more of the council’s elders.
“Ha’Rish shine a good face on us today.”
Samir’s mouth turned up at the corner cheekily.
“Are you intimating that our favourite goddess has ugly faces?”
Ghassan flashed a glare at Samir, who merely laughed.
Suddenly, with the veil of mist lifted, the Sea of Winter Storms reflected the dancing sunlight back to them in all its glory, revealing a wide swathe of open horizon and drawing the viewer’s attention squarely to the array of sails positioned in a rough arc around the sea into which they sailed. In other circumstances it might look pretty; it was certainly impressive. Perhaps forty or fifty daram of varying sizes and construction face the Empress as she emerged from the fleecy blanket. Three quarters of the sails were white, bearing aloft the colours of the Imperial navy, punctuated by the less common black sail of the fleet of the King of Pelasia. And in the centre of the arc, a particularly outsized daram, bearing the blue insignia of the governor of M’Dahz.
Ghassan frowned.
“It worries me that the governor’s flying that pennant. If he’d agreed, I would expect to see a different insignia there.” He ground his teeth. “But then they’re all here… they haven’t blockaded the entire circuit. Isn’t that a good sign?”
Samir shrugged.
“Either very good, or very bad. Hush for a moment. One of my more interesting coin tosses is about to come down. Let’s see whether we win or lose this one…”
Ghassan frowned again as he looked past Samir. Master Culin of the Lassos council was strolling toward them, hands clasped behind his back, while the other two councillors remained at the rail watching the events ahead unfold. As he approached, Culin stopped by the group of menacing looking guards that the councillors had brought aboard and selected half a dozen of them, gesturing for them to join him. Ghassan winced inwardly and realised that his breathing had become shallow and fast. He forced himself to calm down. Culin was the sort of man who could read emotions and appeared to have an intuitive mind, almost a match for Samir.
“Captain…” the man addressed Samir, and then nodded at Ghassan.
“Master Culin. What could I possibly do for you?”
Culin smiled quietly.
“Samir, please… you are not the only one here able to see beyond the end of his nose. I’m not entirely sure how you’re going to do it, but I have a pretty shrewd idea of what’s about to happen. Somehow, despite being outnumbered more than three to one by an enemy fleet and having most of your own fleet out for your blood, I have this disturbing feeling that next to you may be the safest place to stand today.”
Samir sketched a light bow.
“Master Culin, you flatter me. I am a mere gambler with an eye for good odds.”
Culin’s answering grin was equally self-assured.
“As am I, Samir. I have been watching you and my peers with interest and trying to decide what to do about my suspicions. As a matter of duty and sense, I fear that what we should most do right now is to dispatch you both and tip you overboard before you can do any more damage.”
He sighed.
“My somewhat acute sense of self-preservation, however, presses me to other courses of action. When your little game plays out here, Samir, I would appreciate it if you remember the choice I made.”
Samir nodded, his smile fading to a grave expression.
“You are, as you have been for a while, foremost in my thoughts, master Culin.”
The councillor nodded and then turned to the men with him.
“Stay with the captain and first officer. You know what to do.”
The burly pirate he addressed nodded respectfully as the master turned and strode back to the rail to join his peers. Once he was out of easy earshot, Ghassan leaned close to Samir and spoke under his breath.
“I don’t know what you’re up to with him, but that sounded good?”
Samir grinned as he nodded.
“Master Culin has revealed his hand and, I think, that the balance in our own fleet has just tipped in our favour.”
He smiled curiously.
“How prophetic I was…”
Ghassan frowned and Samir laughed.
“Later, my brother.” He squared his shoulders. “Can you see the ships behind us now? Your eyes are so much better than mine.”
Ghassan squinted off behind them.
“Most of them. They’re coming out of the fog and they’re all as close as the ones just behind us. Shall I give the signal?”
Samir waved his hand noncommittally.
“Best ask the council for permission first.”
As Ghassan stood tensely, Samir stepped forward and cleared his throat, addressing the pirate leaders in a loud and clear voice.
“Masters? May I ask your indulgence and allow my brother to give the order to call the fleet to battle lines?”
Halcar turned his sour, hawk like face back to them.
“You do not have to send any messages to your people yet?”
Samir grinned.
“That’s taken care of, Master Halcar. We should see a reply any time. Permission?”
Halcar looked at Culin and Saja, standing to his left at the rail. Saja shrugged his bare ebony shoulders and Culin raised his brow.
“Why not?”
Halcar turned back to Samir.
“You have the council’s permission to prepare for the attack.”
Samir nodded and turned to his brother.
“Alright Ghassan, let’s get this fleet into position while we wait for my other coin to fall.”
In which other coins come down
With the practiced ease of veteran sailors, the eleven assorted vessels accompanying the Dark Empress from the reefs fanned out into a battle line. Given their hushed conversations the previous night, during which Samir had given his brother a complete rundown of the ships, their captains and any crew or tactics that he knew of, Ghassan rubbed his chin and glanced to the left and right trying to size up the fleet. Careful attention as the ships spread gracefully out into the line had given him the time and leisure to put together a mental map of the battlefield, as it were.
The Empress held the centre of the fleet. Stretching away to starboard lay six ships. The first, the Hart’s Heart, clearly held little love for the Empress and her captain. The artillery master on the vessel had two of his weapons charged and angled to fire on the enemy fleet, below the rigging and past the mast, but the third weapon stood on a pivot and continually straying back and forth along the hull of Samir’s vessel. Ghassan sighed. The Hart’s Heart would be the most dangerous foe here. Beyond her lay three more ships captained by the more barbarous of Lassos’ occupants, each of whom would have no compunction about sinking the brothers without a moment’s pause. Beyond them, and almost out of useful reach of the Empress, lay one of their few allies: Orin’s vessel, the Southern Fang, itself being shepherded carefully by another council-loyal vessel at the far flank.
