Scimitar War (41 page)

“Can you do it?” the emperor asked, breaking Cynthia’s reverie.

“I…believe so, Your Majesty. With the help of the mer and your fleet, we should be able to develop a workable strategy. I recommend that we start as soon as possible, while Edan is in deep water. If he realizes what we’re trying to do and grounds himself in shallow water, the city won’t sink. “

“But it would be immobilized,” General Plank said.

“Until a spring tide or a hurricane lifts him off.” She shook her head. “Better to do it in deep water. Then it’s done for good.”

“We agree.” The emperor stood and all followed suit. He nodded to the elves. “Thank you for your counsel. We are in your debt.”

“There is no debt, Emperor Tynean,” Xoihe said regretfully. “The city is our creation. We were seduced by a dream of unifying the races of sea and land, and when this failed, we should have taken steps to ensure that the city was destroyed. We did not think that another would take Akrotia’s place. We were wrong.”

“Very well.” The emperor turned to the rest of the attendees. “Commodore Henkle, continue to ready the fleet, and formulate a strategy with Mrs. Flaxal Brelak. Coordinate with the merfolk through her.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The commodore bowed.

“This council is adjourned.”

As the emperor departed, a buzz of conversation arose among the council attendants as they began to discuss how best to make use of this new information. Cynthia turned to the elves. “Pardon me, but I have another question.”

“Of course, Seamage Flaxal Brelak,” said Tierl.

Cynthia was taken aback; only the mer addressed her as Seamage. “What might happen if
two
people were in the crystal chamber when the city was activated?”

The two elves looked at one another, their normally tranquil expressions now puzzled, then back to her.

“We do not know, Seamage Flaxal Brelak. The enchantment was not designed to accommodate more than one. But then, it also was not designed to accommodate a pyromage.” Tierl gestured with her hands, a mer sign meaning, *How strange.* “If both were incorporated into the lattice, their minds would be joined. We know that Edan was incorporated, because his magic infuses the structure. Who was the other?”

“A girl. A very angry, confused girl.” Cynthia shook her head, wondering if this explained Edan’s actions, or simply confused the issue. “She was the one who killed Kloetesh Ghelfan, your distant kin.”

“This is grave news, Seamage Flaxal Brelak,” Tierl said, exchanging another glance with her companion; this time, her expression was definitely worried.

“Yes,” Cynthia agreed as a shiver ran up her spine. If Samantha’s presence in the city worried the elves, it terrified her.

Chapter 28

Orin’s Pride

“Looks like they’ve already got the news about Akrotia,” Horace said as
Orin’s Pride
sailed between two of the seven galleons moored in a close line across the mouth of Tsing Harbor. The ships had all been dismasted, and swarms of workers were fitting each with a massive catapult that occupied the entire foredeck. Supply barges moved swiftly back and forth between the ships and the naval dock. On each headland, even greater siege engines had been erected, huge counterweight-driven machines that could throw immense boulders long distances.

“Aye, and it looks like we be causin’ a bit of a stir, as well,” Chula agreed as a small fleet of launches left the naval pier and started toward them. “Be makin’ sure nobody touches anyt’in’ dat look like a weapon, Horace. Dey’ll be on us like stink on a sea monkey if we do somet’in’ stupid.”

“Not much more’n a riggin’ knife aboard anyway, Capt’n,” Horace said. He had not been happy about Chula’s orders to leave all their weapons at the shipyard, but had seen the wisdom in it.

“Good. No need ta be antagonizin’ ‘em.” He nodded to the approaching launches, each with half a dozen archers at the ready, arrows nocked.

“Should we shorten sail, Capt’n?” Horace glanced aloft, but they were only flying a reefed mainsail, fore-staysail and a single jib.

“Not ‘til dey order it, Horace.” Chula stepped to the port-side rail where the first of the launches was coming about to pace them. He waved amiably and opened his mouth to greet the officer standing in her bow, but the man cut him off.

“Shorten sail and prepare to be boarded! This ship is hereby impounded by order of the emperor!”

“Impounded?” Chula glanced to Horace and nodded. The fore-staysail was furled and the main sheet slacked until the schooner began to lose headway. “Yer pardon, sir, but why?”

“Because her master has been convicted as a traitor to the empire, and all his possessions are forfeit! Now prepare to be boarded!”

Chula stiffened. How could they call Captain Brelak a traitor? There were some mutters among the crew, but Chula silenced them with one dark glare.

“Come on aboard as you please, sir. We be puttin’ down de port-side ladder for ya.”

“If they scratch our new paint, I’ll have their hides for sailcloth,” Horace muttered, his huge hands flexing at his belt.

“I’m thinkin’ dat dis ain’t our ship no more, Horace, and if we be lucky dey won’t be throwin’ us in prison. You hear what dat fella said? Treason.”

“Aye, I heard it.” Horace scowled as the launch neared. “That don’t mean I have to like it.”

“Like it or no, dey be comin’ aboard.” Chula shot a glare to Horace. “Not one bit of foolishness, now, not from anyone. Us gettin’ in trouble won’t help Capt’n Brelak none.”

“Aye, Capt’n.”

The imperials boarded with military precision, marines first, then the officer. The launch bore off and another disgorged a second marine contingent. Only when there were a dozen armed marines on the deck did the officer step forward.

“Who is acting captain of this vessel?”

“I be de captain of
Orin’s Pride
, and I ain’t just actin’ at it neither.” Chula stepped forward, unsure of how to address the nervous officer. “We not be armed, sir, and de ship be yours if ya be wantin’ it, but I’d like to be askin’ about dis treason t’ing. De owner, Capt’n Brelak, he told us dere be some trouble he needed to come up here to see about, but he di’n’t mention no treason. And on top o’ dat, we seen dis big floatin’ islan’ sout’of here, and a bunch of warships, too. Dat was t’ree days down da coast, an’ we been runnin’ ‘bout twelve knots. We want ta report it ta whoever’s in charge. You know anyt’in’ ‘bout dat?”

The officer ignored Chula’s questions. “Your name, Captain?”

“My name be Chula, and dis be my first mate, Horace.” He squinted down at the man and wrinkled his brow. “You want all our names?”

“No, Captain…Chula. Yours is sufficient.” The officer squared his shoulders and continued. “This ship is hereby impounded on order of His Majesty, the emperor. You and your crew will be allowed to debark at the navy pier, and released on your own recognizance. Any attempt to resist will be dealt with by force. Is that understood?”

“Oh, aye, sir, though I’m not too sure what dat word ‘recognizance’ means. But as long as we be free to walk about, we okay wit’ dat.” He squinted over the officer’s shoulder at the pier and asked. “You want us to bring her into de dock, sir, or would you prefer, dis bein’ an impounded ship and all, to do it yourselves?”

“Uh…” The officer glance around the deck at the schooner’s unfamiliar rig and said, “Your assistance would be appreciated, Captain. Please pull her alongside the warship at the head of the pier.”

“All right. Horace, sheet de main and bring her two points to starboard if you be pleased. We’ll bring her up and let her backfill to draw us in, so be ready on de windward sheets. Smartly, now!”

“Aye, sir!”

Horace barked orders, and the crew responded like the veterans they were.
Orin’s Pride
fell off the wind and built up speed. Then, under Horace’s direction, the helmsman brought her up into the wind parallel to the pier. The mainsail and jib were cross-sheeted, and the ship came to an easy stop, then drifted to starboard just as the crew put out fenders.
Orin’s Pride
nudged the fenders so gently that one might have thought Odea’s own hand had guided her in. The sails were furled in moments, and the crew all gathered on deck. The sailors on the warship leaned over their rails, staring at the exotic rig and calling out compliments on the precision of their landing. Even the naval contingent aboard
Orin’s Pride
looked on appraisingly. Chula actually had to call for the officer’s attention as the last of the securing lines was cinched tight.

“You want to be takin’ her for your impoundin’ now, sir, or do you mind if me crew be gettin’ deir belongin’s before we do dat debarkin’ t’ing you said to do?”

“Uh…you may take your personal effects, Captain, but no cargo.”

“Oh, we not be haulin’ any cargo, sir. Just our stuff is all.” He nodded to Horace, who gave the order, then turned back to the navy man. “By de way, sir, would you be knowin’ if Count Emil Norris be in de city? We saw him down in de Shattered Isles, but dat was some weeks ago.”

“Actually, the count arrived some days ago aboard
Cape Storm
. His lady was the talk of the navy!”

“Miss Camilla?” Chula tried to hide his astonishment, and failed. “Uh, and could you maybe gimme directions to his house? I got a message for him.”

“Of course. The officer at the gate can direct you.”

“Bloody fine! Oh, and if yer captain wants to know Akrotia’s position, just have him look me up at de count’s house, ay?”

“Um…yes. Yes, I’ll inform the commodore.”

“All righty, den!” Chula accepted his sea bag from Horace and slung it over his shoulder. “De ship be yours, sir. Oh, and mind her brightwork, if you be pleased. She just had a refit and she’s spit and polish. I’d not be de one ta tell Captain Brelak dat his ship got all scratched up while she was bein’ impounded.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you, Captain, for your cooperation.”

Chula and the crew of
Orin’s Pride
debarked onto the much larger warship, crossed her deck and proceeded onto the pier. There Horace clapped his captain on the shoulder and said, “By the Nine Hells, Chula, that landing was a thing of beauty. I thought for sure we’d mess it up, there being such an audience and all. My hat’s off to ya, sir! I just hope we have a chance to sail her again someday.”

“Never you mind dat, Horace,” Chula replied, lengthening his strides toward the gate. “Dere’s notin’ we can do about de ship right now. But did you hear? Miss Cammy’s here! And did ya see dat
Lady Belle
on our way across de harbor?”

“That I did, sir.”

“Good. Now, we need to be gettin’ word to Count Norris. Mayhap dat son of a fornicatin’ pig of a pirate, Parek, is somewhere in de city still. And de count’s bound ta know what’s up wit’ de mistress and de captain. Bloody treason my arse!”

≈

They had taken his ship!

The bloody imperial navy had commandeered
King Gull
, dismasted her, and put her captain and crew ashore. And what was more, they didn’t even give him as much as a bent copper for her! Farin cursed under his breath and glared into his empty tankard.

“Could be worse, Captain,” Quid said, spitting a dark stream of tobacco juice onto the floor of the seedy waterfront tavern, “they could’a kept the cargo as well.”

“Aye, that’s true enough,” Farin admitted, waylaying a passing barmaid and signaling for another round. They
had
made a pretty profit on the cargo. And, he grudgingly admitted, the imperials had told him that his ship would be returned, her masts restepped and all damage repaired, as soon as the crisis was over. Of course, they wouldn’t tell him what the crisis was, though the city was abuzz with speculation.

“Saw some people packin’ up wagons this mornin’ like they was takin’ everythin’ they had and skippin’ town.” Quid sipped his rum and frowned. “Think we should do the same, maybe?”

“Figger I’ll stick around, Quid. I was lookin’ forward to bein’ a merchant captain, and I’ll be damned if I let them imperials rob me of it.” He received his refill from the barmaid and took a sip.

“Well, we been robbin’ them fer as long as I can remember, so I guess they’re just tryin’ to get back at us, ay?” Quid laughed at the joke, but Farin didn’t find it quite as funny. “Some of the men have already set out on their own. Hired on as caravan guards, if you believe it.”

“Aye, they’re payin’ good wages to anyone who can handle a blade.” He sipped again and looked around the tavern. “They’re scared, Quid. When people get scared, they get dangerous.”

“That’s a fact, sure as—” Quid suddenly sat up, eyes widening in shock as he focused on something outside the tavern’s murky front window. “By the hells, Captain, I just seen Kori!”

“What?” Farin turned to scan the bustling waterfront, but didn’t see anyone resembling the
Cutthroat’s
former boatswain. “You sure?”

“Aye, I’m sure, Captain. Dressed up like cock of the walk, he was, but it was Kori sure enough.” He downed the rest of his rum and stood. “Mayhap he knows where Parek’s got off to, ay?”

“Maybe he does at that,” Farin agreed. He downed his drink at one swallow and left a silver crown on the table. “Come on!”

≈

“Would ya be lookin’ at dis!” said Chula as he and Horace strode across the neatly cobbled street toward the tall stone townhouse. Three floors of gleaming windows and white trim, with a widow’s walk atop, the house was impressive.

“I guess diplomacy pays pretty good,’” muttered Horace, who seemed distinctly uncomfortable in such upscale surroundings. Two constables on the corner were eying them suspiciously, and Chula was glad that they had sent the rest of the crew off to find lodgings. This didn’t look like a neighborhood that hosted many parties of sailors, unless they were the naval kind with gold epaulets and lots of medals.

“Aye,” agreed Chula, “but dere’s not a tree or a beach ta be seen. And you can prob’ly only see de ocean from de rooftop.”

“And cities are such smelly places. No breeze at all,” Horace added. “Yer right.
I
wouldn’t wanna live here.”

Grinning at one another, they climbed the steps and rapped on the bronze knocker.

“Hello, Tim,” Chula said when the front door opened. He grinned at the boy’s wide eyes. “Fancy meetin’ you here. Would yer father de count be about?”

“Chula! Horace! Uh…yeah! Come in! Come in!” He backed up and held the door wide, ushering them into a large foyer. “Father! Father, come quick!”

“Please, Tim, there’s no need to yell. Kloe is sleeping upstairs and—” Norris stepped from the adjoining room and stared in shock. “By the Gods of Light! Chula! What are you doing here?”

“Well, yer Countship, we stopped fer de repairs we needed and found out a few t’ings dat we—”

“Chula!” Cynthia dashed across the foyer and flung her arms around him.

“Shambata Daroo! I’m guessin’ dat de emperor believe you, huh? Is Capt’n Brelak about? Some navy feller say somet’in’ ‘bout treason, but I knew dat couldn’t be true.”

Cynthia stood back and her smile vanished. She looked back over her shoulder, and he saw two imperial guards standing in the doorway, watching the proceedings with wary eyes. “No, Chula, the emperor didn’t believe us. I was sentenced to ten years in prison, and Feldrin was sentenced to death.”

“What?” Horace gasped, his face blanching white.

“No! Dey can’t! De bloody rotten…” Chula’s heart hammered in his chest, his fists clenching at his sides. Only when Cynthia raised a calming hand did he relent.

“Chula, please, listen; I made a deal with the emperor, and Feldrin’s sentence was commuted.”

“Deal? What kinda…” The pieces all fit together in his mind in a flash of insight. “He want you ta fight Akrotia, don’t he?”

“Yes, he— Wait! How do you know about Akrotia?” she asked, clutching his arm.

“We saw it when we come outta Ghelfan’s shipyard. A picket of warships was sailin’ along wit’ it.”