The King's Justice (30 page)

Slew drew us aside. Standing in his stirrups, he peered into the west. Then he informed us, “I see no sign of armies. They are too distant. They must march hard and long to reach the town if they hope to find any of its folk alive.”

“A generous gesture,” Vail muttered, “but wasted. Better to defend her house.”

I believed that my Queen's commands to Baron Plinth served
more than one purpose, but I did not speak my thoughts. Our mission demanded haste—and yet the prospect of wending our way through Venture's wrack sickened me to the marrow of my bones. While I flinched, however, Excrucia touched my arm. She nodded to indicate her comprehension, then smiled to demonstrate her willingness. Thus encouraged, I swallowed my nausea and urged Slew to proceed.

With more alacrity than I knew how to endure, Slew Immordson led us among the storms of fire and destruction that were Venture's death-throes.

At every moment, I expected to be struck by a fatal ball, or by its explosion, or by the wreckage it wrought. In my mind, I saw myself become a smear of blood and meat on the cobbled streets. Evidences of similar fates lay everywhere. I beheld an appalling number of mangled corpses—a number matched only by the maimed and dying. I rode haunted by screams, and endangered on all sides by wind-lashed pyres, and near blinded by heat. Excrucia had grasped the edge of her cloak and drawn it across her face, leaving only her eyes uncovered. Of her, I knew only that she wept. Vail, however, reacted in another fashion. He now rode erect, straight as the shaft of a halberd, and in his slitted eyes and clenched jaws I saw a rage of such intensity that the wound in his side was forgotten.

As for Slew, the sight of his back revealed naught except concentration. Turning this way and that, choosing one street rather than another for no reason that I could discern, he led us ever closer to the wharves and the attacking vessel.

Through carnage and devastation, we went onward until I guessed that we were near our goal, though our foe remained blocked from my sight. There I called Slew to a halt. In Vail's hearing, and in Excrucia's, so that they would know my needs, I spoke to my Queen's bodyguard.

“I cannot gauge whether what I ask is possible. That you must determine. But I hope that you will now part from us to seek some concealed vantage from which you can observe us. The difficulty is that your covert must be within bowshot of that vessel's foredeck.

“I will bear our flag of parley. It will persuade our foe's captain to take us aboard his ship.” If it failed to do so, Excrucia's presence would succeed. “With Vail, we will gain the foredeck. There we will attempt some form of negotiation. If I am then permitted to depart, you will know that my efforts have succeeded. If I am altogether spurned, however, I will drop my halberd. By that sign, you will know that we require an instant distraction.

“My hope is that you will send a shaft into the chest of some foeman upon the foredeck. If you cannot strike at the captain himself, or at the man who speaks for him, any other will suffice. But you must be able to use your bow accurately at a considerable distance.

“Tell me now if what I ask is possible. Otherwise I must consider a more hazardous distraction.”

By
more hazardous
, I meant
more easily anticipated
. More easily thwarted. I depended upon the confusion that an unanticipated attack would cause.

While I spoke, Slew betrayed no reaction. Briefly he studied me as though he doubted neither his skill nor his success, but only my true intent. Then he released his halberd to me.

“Venture lacks elevation,” he replied. “I must have higher ground. There is a path that ascends partway up the cliff below the Domicile. It is used to watch for returning vessels when the seas are perilous. There I will be able to do as you ask.”

An instant later, his tone and manner changed. Abruptly he became the man who had murdered Excrucia's father—a man who did not balk at bloodshed. “Be warned, Hieronomer,” he said in a bitten voice. “If you intend betrayal, my second shaft will find
your
heart.”

At that, Excrucia flinched. She poised herself to expostulate. Ere she could find words for her protest, however, Slew wheeled his mount and rode away, running hard for the south and the cliff.

She flung a look of fright at me—or perhaps it was an appeal for reassurance. Yet she did not utter her query, and I did not answer it. So craven was I that I could not name my intent, even to myself.

When I had secured my grasp on the halberd, and had confirmed that my pouch of
chrism
and my hieronomer's blade remained hidden within easy reach, I urged Vail to lead us onward.

The man replied with a grin as ready for killing as Slew's threat, but he did not hesitate. First trotting, then cantering, he took us toward the docks.

Over the roar of cannon and flames, the smash of balls and the fall of timbers, Excrucia contrived to make her voice carry. Doubtless Vail heard her, yet her challenge was for me alone.

“Betrayal, Mayhew? You?”

My need to offer some reply was as great as her need to receive it. “Never!” I shouted though I quavered. “I will serve Her Majesty and you and Indemnie with my last breath!”

Staring at me, her eyes grew wide. Surely she had already surmised that my peril was more immediate than hers. She was too valuable a hostage to be blithely slain, whereas I might well be deemed mere dross. Now she appeared to consider less obvious dangers. Indeed, she appeared to consider that I had chosen her to bear the greatest cost of my designs.

So softly that I was scarce able to hear her through the tumult, she replied, “I will have you or nothing, Mayhew Gordian. If you mean to cast away your life, I will cast mine with you. I will not remain to be imprisoned while you are lost.”

Altogether she compelled me to consider that she—like Slew and Vail—like Inimica Phlegathon deVry herself—knew my last secret.

Spurred by alarm, I struggled to envision some expedient that would spare her. However, I was too much afraid to reason clearly.

Also I had no time. While I belabored my mind in a bootless effort to exceed its bounds, we passed among the few remaining structures and cantered onto a wharf in plain view of the black ship at anchor.

For a moment, I froze in my seat, stricken motionless by the sight of the huge vessel with its cannon protruding from its foredeck—and by the sudden knowledge that my small gifts and smaller wits could serve no worthy purpose against so puissant a foe. Until Vail barked my name, making a command of its humble sounds, I did not recall myself enough to hold my halberd high and wave its flag of parley from side to side, demanding notice—or pleading for it.

So convinced was I of my littleness that I expected no response. Indeed, I saw none, heard none—no men at the foredeck rails, no shouts across the water. For that reason, I was shocked by Vail's nonchalant announcement, “The cannon do not fire.”

Forgetting to flourish my flag, I gaped around me. For a time, I held my breath, certain that the bombardment would resume on the instant. Yet the tubes did not utter their jets of flame. No horrid thunder resounded from the unruly seas. No exploding balls crashed into Venture's heart. An unearthly silence deafened the harbor—unearthly and fatal. Long moments passed ere I was again able to discern the shrieks and wails of Venture's people at my back.

Vail stood in his stirrups. Excrucia pointed. “There, Mayhew,” she panted. “There.” Yet I saw nothing, understood nothing. I only listened as she breathed, “They lower a longboat. They will take us aboard.”

Now I remembered to hold up my halberd.

Black against the black ship, the longboat remained invisible
to me until it entered the glare of fires upon the water. Then I was able to descry it—a longboat indeed, three oars to a side, six men at the oars, and four more armed and armored in the stern. These four remained standing despite the heave of the seas and the strong sweep of the oars, a feat which they achieved by bracing their legs against the thwarts.

Straight as an arrow, the longboat came for us, bringing with it a doom that I had chosen for Excrucia as well as myself—and perhaps for all Indemnie.

When Vail dismounted, clutching briefly at his side, Excrucia and I joined him, she lightly, I with trembling legs.

At once, I took Vail's arm. “Hear me,” I urged, attempting command. “Should my efforts fail—should I drop my halberd, and Slew succeed—you must save yourself at any cost. We will endure our fates. You must bear our tidings to Her Majesty. She must know all that you will be able to tell her.”

He spared no more than a grunt for my instructions. His gaze remained fixed on the approaching longboat. When he nodded, I could not determine whether he indicated assent or mere comprehension. He may have wished only to direct my attention toward our foes.

The great vessel was not distant, and the longboat was swift. With quick proficiency, the rowers shipped their oars, caught the side of the nearest pier, and secured their craft. Thereafter they returned to their seats while the four soldiers or marines disembarked. The heavy rise and fall of the waves caused them no apparent awkwardness.

The four marched toward us with their blades drawn, cutlasses keenly curved. Seen by moon- and firelight, their raiment was motley. Two wore chain sarks that flapped against their knees. Another had a turban on his head, a shirt open to the navel, and voluminous pantaloons. Only the fourth was clad in what might be styled a uniform—a fitted breastplate of bronze, leggings of silk, and high boots much abused. In addition, the men were variously groomed. The individual in the turban wore a shrubbery of beard to cover much of his chest. One of his comrades had a moustache oiled and waxed to sharp points. Another was clean shaven. The man in uniform had neglected his whiskers for some days. Altogether they resembled brigands more than men-at-arms.

Nevertheless their discipline was plain. As they gained the wharf, they fanned out to encircle us with their blades. Only when we were surrounded did the uniformed man speak.

In a voice thickly accented, he announced, “You are now our prisoners. If you seek parley, you must convince our captain to hear you. If you have some other purpose, we will cut you down.” After a pause, he added, “We may find a better use for the woman.”

Excrucia met his gaze as though to defy him. Nevertheless she closed her cloak around her and held it tight.

Angered by this threat to my friend and ally, I overcame my fear with an attempt at hauteur. “We do seek parley. We have made our purpose plain.” I waved my halberd. “You will treat us
courteously until your captain has heard us. Thereafter you may learn to regret your rudeness.”

Vail's brief glance hinted at approval. Excrucia's gaze held firm on our foe's spokesman.

My reply was greeted with coarse chuckles and guffaws, but our captors offered no further threats. The spokesman answered only, “Follow me,” and turned away.

Encouraged by cutlasses, Vail, Excrucia, and I obeyed.

Soon we were upon the pier—and sooner still, Vail dropped into the wave-tossed longboat. That movement wrung a groan from him, though he mastered his pain quickly to assist Excrucia. For my part, I contrived to step from the pier and land on the floorboards without pitching myself overboard. A moment later, our captors embarked, now guarding us fore and aft. At once, the near-side oarsmen cast off, unshipped their sweeps, and joined their fellows rowing us headlong into the high tumult of the seas.

W
hen the longboat had been hoisted onto its hanger, and we had made shift to gain our feet aboard the ship, our escort accompanied us to the foredeck. There we found ourselves placed near the foremast at no great distance from the infernal bulk of the cannon. Piled near the mast and the rails were the usual equipage of a large vessel, chiefly massive
hawsers coiled almost to my own height, ranks of belaying pins, and anchor-chains, but also long troughs lined with iron balls for the cannon, and iron-bound casks which doubtless held explosive powder.

All along the rails and before the forecastle, men as motley as our guards studied us in silence—sailors, soldiers, marines, I knew not what. Most regarded us with an admixture of open animosity and glazed disinterest, though a small number appeared to regard us as freakish curiosities. All, however, were armed with cutlasses, and some bore dirks and truncheons as well.

No one among them spoke.

At my side, Excrucia surveyed the assemblage with her head held high and her eyes clear in the moonlight. Near us, Vail hunched over his wound, clamping one arm there to constrict the flow of blood, and breathing in low hisses through his teeth. While I searched myself for courage, I scanned the men, seeking one with an air of authority, one who stood somewhat apart from his fellows. However, I found none. To my eyes, they were all and none captains, as leaderless and incapable of restraint as a rabble poised for frenzy.