The Ruling Sea (79 page)

“Human?”

“Tongueless, man, that’s all.”

Bolutu shook his head. “I had hoped my disguise would last across the Ruling Sea. It still may. In any case I see no reason to give it up before I must.”

“Good,” said Fiffengurt. “Usually best to keep things simple. Let’s be off, then, lad.”

They stepped out of the room. Dastu glanced back at the remaining faces. His usual strong, steady look was nowhere to be found. “Simple?” he whispered, closing the door.

Now the three friends were alone with Bolutu. Neeps cradled a last stump of candle. Thasha caught Pazel’s eye again, plainly begging for contact, for an end to his severity and distance. Miserable, raging inside, Pazel looked away.

Bolutu cleared his throat. “One thing more. I regret I must say this now, in haste.”

In great haste
, said Diadrelu sharply.
Tell him, Pazel. There are sounds of waking from the berth deck
.

Pazel felt a tightening in his stomach. “Oh gods,” he said. “Be quick, Bolutu. Is it
more
bad news?”

Bolutu looked at him, and the pride gleamed again in his eyes, stronger than before. “On the contrary, I have saved the best news for last. You can forget organizing a mutiny, forget Rose and Ott and their schemes. Arunis alone concerns us now. For I have not failed, Pazel. The good mages of Bali Adro, who sent me north two decades ago—
they are expecting us
. They see through my eyes, listen with my ears. As soon as we make landfall, and I spot a mountain or a castle or other landmark familiar to my masters, they will inform our good Emperor. His Highness will dispatch a mighty force to surround and seize the
Chathrand
, and the full might of Bali Adro wizardry will fall on Arunis, and he will be crushed. And this time my masters will not allow the Nilstone, or Arunis himself, to vanish and plague them another day. They will take this burden from you, as they should have done from Erithusmé centuries ago.”

Pazel could scarcely breathe. He turned to Thasha, and she looked back at him, alarmed and uncertain. Neeps was studying Bolutu, his face blank with shock.
Wheels within wheels within wheels
, thought Pazel.

At last Thasha broke the silence. “Why didn’t you tell the whole blary council?” she said.

Bolutu gave her another glance of surprise, as if Thasha should have no need of asking such a question. But he said, “I am under orders to confide in as few as possible. My masters’ only fear is that the wrong persons aboard
Chathrand
might learn that they are watching and waiting. Of course Arunis is the most dangerous in this regard.” Bolutu’s voice lowered grimly. “He has proved it, these last twenty years. We were forty sent to slay him, but in the court of the Shaggat Ness, Arunis had grown more powerful than we ever suspected. All those who had hunted him inside the Mzithrin he killed in a single week—all but one, who fled with a broken mind, and sought to warn Arqual of the Nilstone.” Bolutu looked gravely at Thasha. “He died at your feet, m’lady.”

Thasha gasped. “Him! That tramp who shouted at me in the garden? The one who knew about the Red Wolf?”

Bolutu nodded. “Machal, he was called: and Ott’s arrow saved Arunis the trouble of killing him. Machal was one of the last. Arunis had sought us from the Crownless Lands to East Arqual. One by one he sniffed us out: he had found a way to detect the spells our masters worked through us, you see. By the time we grasped this, just two of us from Bali Adro were left alive. Myself and one human being. Only his ignorance protects us. He does not know who we are, or that any of our number survive.”

“But he read your mind,” said Pazel. “That day in the Straits of Simja—didn’t he?”

“That day,” said Bolutu with a shudder, “Ramachni shielded me, to his own great pain. The sorcerer glimpsed only what was foremost in my thoughts. Be in no doubt: if he
had
learned all I know—learned of my masters, awaiting him—he would have fled this ship before we entered the Nelluroq. And if he learns of them now, he will risk anything, kill anyone, to stop us reaching the South. That is why my masters cannot act through me, and why I cannot even speak to them, or see their faces. They look through my eyes, but hide from his. They approach me only in dreams.”

“What does Arunis expect to happen, when we reach the South?” Pazel asked. “Does he know that the ones who sent him—the Ravens, you called ’em?—have been put in jail?”

“I don’t know,” said Bolutu. “But whether he is aware of their downfall or not, he has long since abandoned the Ravens. He has his puppet-king, through whom he hopes to wield the Nilstone. More important, he has ambitions all his own. The Ravens dreamed only of dominion; Arunis dreams of something darker still. And from the South he wants only what Rose and Ott desire: provisions, a course heading for Gurishal, a swift and stealthy departure.” Bolutu gave them an unsettling smile. “They will all get more than they bargained for.”

“What happens when your masters take the Nilstone?” asked Pazel quietly.

“It will not be for me to decide,” said Bolutu, “but I imagine that the conspirators will all be jailed, and that you will be guests of Bali Adro for as long as you like, unless you wish to take the
Chathrand
home again, under another commander.”

“But this is incredible,” said Neeps. “Pazel, Thasha, do you hear the man? We’re saved.”

Not if you don’t get out of that chamber
, hissed Diadrelu.

“We have but one task,” said Bolutu. “To be sure Arunis finds no new, unforeseen way to use the Nilstone in the weeks ahead. Once we reach the South, my masters will take care of the rest. Trust me, friends: this journey began with treachery and loss, but it will end with redemption for us all.”

Neeps was staring at Bolutu as though suddenly fascinated. Pazel turned to Thasha, forgetting the need to scorn her, wanting her help. “I don’t know what to say, Mr. Bolutu,” he said. “You’ve changed everything, and it’s wonderful, unbelievable. But—”

“I’m not sure this is how it’s
supposed
to happen,” said Thasha.

“I’m sure,” said Neeps suddenly. He took a mystified Bolutu by the shoulder and made him bend, then pointed to the back of his neck. There, faint but unmistakable against the black skin, was a scar in the shape of a wolf.

34
Alliances Redrawn

9 Umbrin 941

Pitch darkness. The candle had burned out; there was no time to light another. Neeps and Thasha had departed; in a moment Pazel and Bolutu were to follow.

Hopes and fears spun madly together in Pazel’s head; it was like warming one’s hands over a fire while being pelted by sleet. Bolutu carried the wolf-scar. They had found their seventh and final ally; and his masters, so he claimed, were stronger than all their foes put together. Certainly they were doing as the Red Wolf had intended: bringing the Nilstone back to those Erithusmé had thought could guard it best. Surely it was all going as planned.

So why did Pazel feel such dread? Was it all too good to be true? Or were the sleepless nights, the bad food, the reek of bilge and the foul, close air just catching up with him? He tried to force himself to concentrate; it might be days before he could speak to Bolutu again.

“If you’d decided to tell us—the three of us, I mean—why did you wait so blary long? We could have started working together months ago.”

“I did as my masters advised,” said Bolutu’s voice in the darkness. “There was no way to tell you just a little, and I feared to tell you a lot. Nor did I have any idea that the scar on the back of my neck was anything special. Dlömu have excellent vision, but we’re no better than humans at seeing out of the backs of our heads. You say that
Rose
, of all people, bears this mark?”

“On his forearm, yes,” said Pazel impatiently. “Do you mean to say you weren’t sure you could trust us?”

“I doubted you’d be alive long enough to trust,” said Bolutu. “More to the point, I didn’t know how well you or Thasha or Neeps could hide what you knew from Arunis. What if I had told you all this before that day on the bowsprit, when he saw into your mind?”

Pazel shuddered at the memory, knowing Bolutu had a point. He pressed on; there was so little time.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard about Bramian,” he said.

“I heard that they asked you about a place called Stath Bálfyr,” said Bolutu.

At once the ixchel began to exclaim.
Stath Bálfyr! Who asked the boy about Stath Bálfyr! Dri, they’re discussing Sanctuary! Does Taliktrum know this? He’ll go mad! What if he finds out that
—

Quiet!
shouted Dri.

“I also,” said Pazel, struggling for composure, “talked to a horrible thing called an eguar. It told me something very strange.
I do not think you should die before you see the wondrous South, the world my brethren made
. Those were its exact words. Do you have any idea what they could mean?”

Bolutu said nothing at first. Pazel supposed he was thinking over the creature’s words, but when his voice came again it was clear that he was in shock. “You spoke … to a
what
?”

“An eguar. Do you know what that is?”

“Keep your distance. You should have burned your clothes. An eguar. Gods of night, you’ll have contaminated the ship!”

“We did burn our clothes,” Pazel interrupted. “On Bramian, Dr. Chadfallow insisted. And he made us scrub in a river—wash our hair, clean under our nails. We nearly froze to death.”

Bolutu gave a great sigh. “That’s all right, then. Yes, I know what an eguar is, though I have never seen one. They are ancient creatures, ancestors of dragons. The poisons in their breath and secretions are a thousand times more lethal than that of the deadliest snake, and the magic in their blood is akin to that raging fire in which the world was made. When the
maukslar
, the demon lords, reigned in Alifros, they kept eguar as palace watchdogs. Most have died out. Where they die a crater opens, as if the land itself were decaying with the corpse. Living eguar are terribly rare today. I did not know that any were to be found north of the Nelluroq.”

“And
the world my brethren made
?”

Another pause. “I don’t know,” said Bolutu at last. “Perhaps it merely wished to frighten you.”

“Well, it succeeded,” said Pazel. “All right, it’s time to go.”

“And still there is more I would say,” said Bolutu with regret. “But I suppose it must wait.”

“You suppose right,” said Pazel firmly. “No more talking. Follow me.”

They opened the door and stepped out of the vault, into a narrow passage formed by stacked crates. It was just as dark and stuffy here as in the vault itself, for this entire corner of the hold was cut off from the rest by a fluke arrangement of cargo and retaining walls. The crew called the area the Abandoned House, and it hadn’t taken long to see why. Pazel crept along the rattling planks over the bilge well, feeling water slop against his toes, bracing himself with his hands. After a dozen steps his right hand found the ten-inch gap he was looking for, and he made Bolutu stop. Turning sideways, they slid into this crack and shuffled another ten yards. There was a second turn, and the passage widened, and then they were at the scuttle, that narrow emergency stair that was the only way into or out of the House.

Goodbye, Pazel!
Diadrelu’s voice came softly, from twenty or thirty feet to his left.
I will visit you this evening, if I can. Right now I must go to Hercól, who needs me. You’ve done well, my dear boy. You’ve kept your head, and followed your heart
.

He had never heard such open affection in her voice, and wondered at it, and wished he could say something in reply. He waved a hand in the darkness, hoping she had not turned away.

Up the steep stair they climbed, carefully skipping the top step, and emerging at last onto the mercy deck. The blackness was still almost perfect, but Pazel could hear distant thumps and mutterings from the decks above.
We’ve stayed too blary long
. He gave Bolutu a firm nudge to starboard.
That way
. A hand touched Pazel’s shoulder, and then he was gone.