Scimitar's Heir (20 page)

“Water, then,” she said quietly, this time comforted by the sound of her own voice in the darkness. “I need to find water to stay alive.”
And I need to stay alive
, she thought,
because when it’s safe, Emil will come for me
.

That thought solidified her resolve; sweet, gentle Emil, who had made love to her so carefully, so tenderly. Perhaps he would forgive her for what she had done, hiding here instead of continuing her charade by leaving with Parek. She might even be able to forgive herself, someday. But for now, she had to stay alive.

Camilla felt along the wall, found the torch bracket, but it was empty. She bumped into the wall perpendicular to the door, then followed it, feeling ahead with her toe until the floor ended. It seemed that a vast empty space stretched open before her: the stairs. Stretching out with her foot, she found the first step, lowered herself down, then found the next. Swallowing her fear, she made her way down into the darkness
.

Chapter 15

Orders

“I implore you to take action on this, Admiral Joslan.” Emil Norris clenched his hands behind his back. It took all of his diplomatic training to keep the anger, despair and impatience that tore at him from registering in his face and voice. The dullest, most inbred sovereign he had ever dealt with during his long career had greater wit than the addlebrained twit seated behind the broad teak desk in the great cabin of the
Indomitable
. “Lives are at stake here. You saw the carnage on the beach. The same, or
worse
, will be perpetrated upon those who were taken prisoner.”

“Lives are always at stake, Milord Count,” Admiral Joslan countered. He shoveled the last forkful of his lunch into his mouth, nudged the plate away, and dabbed his mouth with a silk napkin while the steward whisked away the plate and refreshed the admiral’s blackbrew. Joslan took a sip of the steaming beverage. “Lives were at stake when
Clairissa
and
Fire Drake
were destroyed. Until we know more about that—”

“I’ve
told
you how that happened.” Norris’ throat was raw from his hours-long account of the horrible chain of events that had led to the sinking of the
Fire Drake
and the burning of the
Clairissa
.

“Yes,” the admiral said, narrowing his eyes. “According to
you
, the seamage is completely innocent. The mer took down
Fire Drake
, a pyromage burned
Clairissa
, and a pirate stowed away on Brelak’s schooner fired the first shot. What you seem to be ignoring, Milord Count, is that the seamage is allied to both the mer and the pyromage—as if having one bloody sorcerer wasn’t enough—and is
married
to Brelak! If that doesn’t make her complicit, I don’t know what does. But that is for His Majesty to decide, not me. As to the cannibals taking captives, as commander of this armada, it is my responsibility to decide if the lives at stake warrant additional lives being put at risk, and I will not commit the emperor’s forces to an unknown situation.”

“The situation is
not
unknown, sir. Our lookout watched the ships sail away. The cannibal ship went south. There are few harbors of refuge available to a galleon of that size in that direction, and none, Paska tells me, large enough to hide the ship from view.” Norris was grateful that Paska had allowed him to speak on her behalf; a screaming woman and a crying baby would not have aided his negotiations, though, at this point, he was doubtful if they would have hurt much. “We must not delay our decision! Every moment could mean torture and death for those who were taken. It’s already been a full day!”

“
We
are not making this decision, Count Norris. I am!” The admiral cast down his napkin and glared across the desk, his face flushing dangerously. “You say there were hundreds of cannibals, and you would have us venture into
their
territory where there could be hundreds more, as well as unknown deployment, fortifications and terrain. Such an exercise would be costly, and as much as it pains me to say it, I believe it would be more costly than is warranted by the lives of a few natives.”

“Not only natives were taken, Admiral,” Norris argued. “The shipwright’s assistant, Miss Dura, was taken by the cannibals. She is a dwarf of renown in shipbuilding circles. And Miss Camilla, the seamage’s confidant and business partner, was almost surely kidnapped by the pirates who sailed north. Only through her courageous actions were the rest of us saved!”

“I am sorry, Milord Count, truly, but you’ll not sway my thinking.” The admiral stood, his broad fists firm on the desk top. “My orders are to secure Plume Isle and neutralize the seamage threat, which has now become a pyromage threat, too. We will fortify our position here and await their return,
if
they return. Splitting my force to search for pirates and cannibals is not, in my opinion, wise or warranted.”

“Admiral Joslan, I—”

“My decision is
final
. Once we have dealt with the seamage and pyromage, we will consider exploring the rest of the Shattered Isles. You, Milord Count, will sail north immediately aboard the
Lady Gwen
. I’m sure the emperor will be interested in your account of the situation.”

Emil clenched his fists to stop his hands from trembling—or throttling the bull-headed man before him—and tried one last plea. “Please, Admiral, for the sake of those abducted, at least loan Paska and the other natives a sailing skiff so they can reconnoiter the southern islands. They may be able to—”

“So they can rally their friends and attack? I think not!” Admiral Joslan tugged his uniform into taut lines. “Milord Count, I will dispatch no imperial vessel to search for the captives. My answer is
no
.”

≈

Dura woke to a throbbing head and the stench of blood, vomit and human waste. Bile burned her throat, but she swallowed hard and focused her mind until the nausea receded. When she tried to move, pain in her wrists and ankles jolted her more fully awake. She moaned and opened her eyes.

“Quiet!” a voice said from close by. It was dark enough that Dura had to squint to see who spoke, though she could discern shapes.

“Wh—” She choked on her parched throat, and tried again. “Where are we?”

“We’re still in de hold of dere ship. Keep your voice low.” The man next to her moved, and she could tell that he was bound as well. “Dey been arguin’, and dey run de ship aground twice. I t’ink dey tryin’ ta get her into a lagoon or an inlet, but I can’t hear…”

His voice faded as a bout of shouting broke out over their heads, dull through the thick timbers of the deck. Rattling chain and a splash from forward signified that the anchor had been dropped. The ship lurched and heeled, and more shouting rang out.

“The buggers don’t know much ‘bout anchorin’ a ship, do they?” Dura muttered, shifting to try to alleviate some of her aches and pains. She managed to sit up, but her wrists and ankles were bound tightly with thin cords fastened, in turn, to a support timber. From the darkness, she guessed that she and the other prisoners were in the lower hold, well below the waterline. There were two decks above them and only the bilge below, which explained the smell. “Nor much about cleanin’ one out proper.”

“Nor much ‘bout sailin’,” her companion agreed.

Squinting into the darkness, Dura was able to discern more prisoners, perhaps two dozen in all, also bound to the ship’s timbers. Some were sitting up, others were lying motionless: either sleeping, unconscious, or dead.
The dead are gonna be the lucky ones
, she thought, flexing her numb fingers to restore some feeling. The motion of the ship settled, and there were several loud thuds from overhead. Voices were closer now, a harsh gibberish that she could not understand, though it sounded vaguely like the language of the other natives.

“Can ye understand any o’ that gobbledygook?” she asked her companion as she felt the bindings on her wrists for a knot.

“Some,” her companion admitted, his voice despondent. “Ya don’t wanna know.”

“Oh, I know we’re in a pickle, lad,” she mumbled, working at the bindings with her teeth. The cord was too tough to chew through, but if she could just find a knot... “It’s plain enough that they mean ta eat us, but they took us alive fer a reason, too. Ach, the bloody buggers know a bit about tyin’ knots, don’t they.”

“Dey talkin’ ‘bout de ship, arguin’ ‘bout it, what to do wit’ it. Dere’s no argument ‘bout what dey gonna do wit’
us
. Dey brought us back fer sport, not just food.”

“Ah, well that’s somethin’ anyway. Might be good, and might be bad.”

The deck shook as the hatches above were thrown open, and a sliver of light stabbed down through the darkness; their captors were opening up the hold. Another loud thud sounded, then rapid footsteps on the deck above. Dura cursed silently; they didn’t have much time. “One thing, lads; if ye get the chance, a quick crack on the noggin or a blade across the throat fer me. I’d rather die quick than as some plaything fer the likes of these butchers.”

Mutters of agreement swept through the bound prisoners as the hatch over their heads was lifted and light poured in, but the illumination offered little hope. Their captors descended and began methodically preparing them to be taken off the ship, Dura gritted her teeth and stiffened her resolve. Getting out of this alive seemed unlikely, but she might just be able to fight her way to a quick death.

≈

*We have found it!* Eelback swam into the chamber, Redtail, as always, at his side. Eelback’s colors shifted in waves, so great was his excitement.

The wake of their entrance rocked Fah, rousing her from her invocation-induced stupor. With a flip of her tail, the dolphin shot out of the chamber, trailing a stream of thick white milk. Kelpie signed a curse and slashed her tail in agitation. It was hard enough to coax Fah into the chamber, much less into relaxing enough to provide the milk. Then the priestess had to get the baby to ingest the milk. It was a losing battle, and Cynthia’s baby was the victim; the infant looked thinner than it had immediately after birth, and she was afraid that soon it would perish. The rest of the mer in the chamber ignored her outburst.

*Found what?* Slickfin signed, flipping her tail to propel herself to Eelback’s side.

*The Chamber of Life!* he replied. *The seamage has not yet reached it, and when she does, we will be waiting for her!*

Kelpie’s signs were sharp and quick. *There you will tell her that if she agrees to enter the Chamber of Life, you will let her child live.*

Eelback’s gills fluttered in laughter. *So, you finally figured it out?* Slickfin and the others echoed his mirth. *When the seamage nears the chamber, you, Kelpie, will use Odea’s blessings to allow me to breathe air, and I will bargain with the seamage for the life of her child.*

The priestess’ heart sank; she had been foolish in hoping to foster discontent by revealing Eelback’s treachery. Of course the others already knew his plan. Only she had been kept in the dark. She restoked her anger and turned again to Eelback, flipping her fins in contempt. *And if I refuse to do as you ask?*

*Then we will all die,* he signed, his humor dissolving into cold anger. *There is no going back to Trident Holder Broadtail’s school; we are outcasts now, including you. If you refuse to do as I say, then everyone dies: you, me, the seamage and her child, even Tailwalker. Without the protection of a living Akrotia, the myxine will see to that.*

*You have already sealed the deaths of all of the landwalkers, including this child!* She turned to the rest of their school. *Why do you not see that he will betray you? He will betray anyone if it serves his purpose! He spent Sharkbite’s life just to trick me into subduing Seamage Flaxal. Do you think he will stop at sacrificing any of you, all of you, to further his ends?*

*I did not sacrifice Sharkbite!* Eelback signed, flushing dark with rage. *The
seamage
killed him!*

*Just like you
knew
she would,* she signed, leveling a glare at him. *I saw you promise the myxine the landwalkers on the seamage’s ships,
and
the mer that swim with them; your own school! Why do you do this, Eelback? Why murder them like this?*

*Because I know the landwalkers,* he signed. *If they are allowed to go, they will be back, and they will bring their warships, and they will destroy us. You sign of betrayal; the landwalkers know naught but betrayal. They betrayed the mer so many seasons ago, when they rejected the mer request for more grottos in Akrotia for our finlings. And again, when Akrotia died and they refused to bring it back. They have betrayed us at every turn, and will continue to do so. So we must
take
what we want. Akrotia will be
ours
, Kelpie. Ours
alone
! We will not share it with the landwalkers and allow them to betray us again.*

Kelpie had never been so angry. She swelled her chest, ready to call Odea’s curse down on Eelback…then realized that if she did, his school would kill her…the baby…Tailwalker. She deflated and made her decision, the one she had been struggling with for days: if she could not save all her friends, she could at least save one.

*It is time for you to agree to
my
bargain, Eelback,* she signed, flaring her fins defiantly. *I will do as you ask, but only if you vow, before all of your people here, that you will allow me to take Tailwalker away when I have done this thing for you.*

Eelback glared at her, his eyes narrowing dangerously. All looked to him, some of them with indecision plain in their shifting coloration. Her mention of Sharkbite’s suspicious death had shaken their faith in him. Kelpie knew that if Eelback hoped to keep their loyalty, he would have to keep his promise to her.

*Agreed,* he finally signed, his coloration fading to more sedate hues. *I promise to you, Kelpie, that when you do these things I have asked, you and Tailwalker will swim free.*

Kelpie closed her eyes and nodded. She and Tailwalker would leave Akrotia alive, but she wondered if she would ever be able to live with herself after keeping her end of such a promise.

≈

Huffington carefully reread the paper in his hands. This, his third pass through the document, revealed nothing new. The orders were plain enough: kill the seamage if she refused to come to Tsing to answer charges. Kill the pyromage…period, no options.

His gut clenched when he considered the task. It wasn’t the thought of facing magic that really bothered him; even a mage succumbs to a knife slipped between the ribs. Truly, it wasn’t even the killing—he had grown up in the downwind streets of Tsing, where one killed to survive. It was killing at someone
else’s
order that twisted his gut. It had always bothered him. It was a part of his life was that he had tried very hard to put behind him. The tasks he performed for Count Norris were one thing; a little theft, some covert listening, occasionally a bit of sabotage…just tools in the repertoire of diplomacy. Taking a life at the whim of another, even an emperor, was what Huffington loathed.