Kingdom of Royth Part 8

"Very good," said Blade. "If the pirates have charts of the coast, they will be certain that our fleet could only get out one or two ships at a time. They will probably leave no more than a small squadron on patrol. And so our fleet can pour out and catch the pirates in the rear, and perhaps by surprise."

That idea made even the most crusted old men sit up and grin gleefully. But the objections were now joined by Pelthros himself. "We see much wisdom in your plan, Constable Blahyd," he said. "But to draw the pirates inland, we must needs leave a large expanse of our territory and many of our subjects exposed to barbarities which you yourself know well. What say you to that?"

"I say that if we arrange it so the pirates land close to where we have both the army and the fleet, we can strike at them quickly and reduce the damage they do. But I beg you to consider accepting the risk even of great damage. If this plan works, the pirate power will be broken for all time, and next year Your Majesty can even consider leading forth your forces against Neral itself! The name of Royth will shine forever with a mighty glory for having smitten the pirates down into the sea!" Blade wondered if he was developing a weakness of his own for melodramatic statements on all possible and impossible occasions.

"True enough," said the King. "But if we understand you, what you wish is that both the army and the navy be ma.s.sed well to the north. What a.s.surance can we have that the pirates will land where we wish, and not make straight for High Royth? The city would be left almost defenseless by your plan."

"I beg to differ, Your Majesty. High Royth is a mighty city, the jewel of your realm, and heavily fortified. It can stand alone against the pirates for many weeks, certainly long enough for your army to a.s.semble and crush the pirates if they are ma.s.sed around its walls. It can fall swiftly only through treachery, which Your Majesty's vigilance has rendered impossible." After your procrastination nearly rendered it successful, he would have liked to have added, but politeness to kings usually pays dividends. "And if your loyal subjects can be given back their arms and told to hold them ready for use against the pirates, I am sure you can leave High Royth with even fewer soldiers than usual."

The King contemplated that for a moment, then said, "Likewise true. Or true enough to deserve our consideration. But it would still be an ill thing for our capital to be besieged by the Neralers. Have you a scheme for indeed leading them to some place under the noses of our fighting men?"

Blade swallowed. The War Council had been purged of the treasonous, he hoped, but had it been purged of the garrulous? He-or the half-forgotten Richard Blade of Home Dimension, actually-had seen too many cover stories or ruses blown to smithereens because some fool knew too much and then had one drink too many. But he was in too deep to back out.

"I do. Let the rumor be circulated that the Kingdom's gold and other valuables from both public and private sources are being moved-for safety-to some place in this area." He tapped the map in the general area of the northeast corner of the Kingdom. "The thought of carrying away the whole royal treasury of Royth at a single blow will be enough to make the pirates search every hayloft and under every rock for it. And if we also fortify a number of towns and villages in the area, we can provide refuges for the country people and also delay the advance of the pirates until the royal army is ready to strike."

Pelthros nodded, with a look on his face of a man becoming largely but not yet entirely convinced.

"We would prefer to see some reliable way of getting word of the bait to the pirates. If Indhios had not been killed and his faction smashed, we could have dropped hints where he would pick them up and convey them to his allies. Perhaps we could present the rumor as coming from him still?" He appeared to be asking Blade.

Blade shook his head. "I fear not, Your Majesty. Had we smashed Indhios' faction less publicly, we could expect the pirates not to know that it had gone. But I am sure that boats are already bound for Neral, carrying the word. Indhios not only fell from power, he fell from a great height before a thousand witnesses. Anything that was supposed to come from Indhios, the pirates would know to be a trap."

Before Pelthros could say anything in reply, Blade went on. "I think the best way for pa.s.sing word of the bait might be for me to take a small ship, manned by my own men, and sail out to meet the pirates as though I were joining them. Or rejoining them," he added with a wry grin.

There were murmurs and rumbles of surprise all around the Council table, from younger and older members alike: Pelthros was the first to put his thoughts into words, and shocked enough to let the royal "we" slip.

"I appreciate your-your idea. But-won't they simply kill you outright before you can speak to them?"

Blade shook his head. "I know the Truce Code of the Brotherhood, which is inviolate. Even a man forsworn from the Brotherhood or outlawed from it can invoke Truce for twenty-four hours once in his life. I admit, some hothead may still put an arrow-through me. But I could be supplied with maps and doc.u.ments that will get the word to the pirates even if I die. And of course, if they kill me after I have spoken to them, my job will have been done."

If Blade had, like the late countess, been striving for dramatic effects, he would have been amply rewarded by the spectacle of twenty of the highest statesmen and soldiers in Royth reduced to an amazed silence. And when he saw Pelthros nod slowly, and go on nodding until looks of approval appeared on the faces all around the table, he knew that he had won. He would enjoy honor and influence in Royth second only to Pelthros himself, for his idea had impressed the younger leaders and his grand gesture in laying his own life on the line had impressed the older ones. Whether he would ever live to enjoy that honor and influence was, of course, another matter.

CHAPTER 19.

Blade watched the horizon grow sawtoothed with the sails of the pirate fleet. He suddenly realized that at last he was as calm as he had pretended to be since the War Council three weeks ago.

He had been on edge with the strain of waiting all during those weeks, a strain which not even the frantic bouts of lovemaking with Alixa could relieve. The strain was made worse by the fact that he himself had little to do with the preparations for trapping the pirates. His moment would come only when the fleet was reported in sight, and Pelthros insisted that in the meantime he and his crew (actually, Brora's crew) have a chance to rest, gain strength, and indulge themselves. There was a certain note of "the hearty last meal for the condemned man" in Pelthros' well-intentioned decision that made Blade feel no better.

So he watched from the windows of his luxurious suite in the palace, with Alixa beside him, as the royal fleet sailed north, a hundred warships and a hundred merchant vessels carrying extra soldiers, supplies, and the labor gangs who would dredge out the mouths of the Keltz. By night, he heard the rumble of wheels, the tramp of soldiers, and the harsh voices of sergeants calling cadence as the Royal Guard and a brigade from the garrison of High Royth moved out, northward bound also, to join the army a.s.sembling there. In the early morning as he walked through the marketplaces and arcades, unable to sleep or even lie still beside the sleeping Alixa, he saw men polishing pikes and halberds, piling stones and firewood, weaving ropes for catapults. And then he would go home, to sit detached and distant over a breakfast prepared by the King's own cooks, replying to Alixa's questions only with grunts or mutters until she sometimes burst into tears.

Then finally word came from a merchant vessel that ran herself frantically on the rocks at the mouth of the harbor in her flight. The pirates were in sight and no more than a day's sail off the coast. That night, Blade had no trouble talking to Alixa, nor she to him, as they writhed and tossed in a wild pa.s.sionate agony and then lay feeble as children in the tangled sheets.

Blade was up long before dawn the next morning, riding alone through the dark and dew-slick streets to the pier where Brora was putting the final touches on their ship, a light galley named Charger. Brora threw Blade a salute as he rode up, then grinned and said, "Aye, I'm becomin' too much the naval officer to remember how to be a pirate!"

"You'll be a better naval officer for having been a pirate, I think," said Blade. "We can all learn something from a man like Tuabir."

"Aye," said Brora. "May Druk keep him an' be merciful. Perhaps we'll be findin' out about Druk's mercy ourselves before the day be o'er."

Blade grinned. "Don't give up the ship until she sinks under you." He sprang down from the saddle and strode up the gangplank, calling greetings to the men he recognized. That was most of them, for all but a handful of Charger's forty-odd men had been part of Thunderbolt's crew or at least of Brora's action squads in the dockyard.

Half an hour later, with her blue and white sails to a rising dawn breeze and the sky behind her beginning to pale, Charger slipped past the breakwater and plunged out to sea. She was out of sight of land by mid-morning, and the cook had just called the hands to lunch when the foremast lookout squalled his warning. Blade ran forward, and a few minutes later he could see it too-the entire seaward horizon a forest of sails as the pirate fleet rose into view.

He suspected it would be a while before the pirates sighted Charger, small and low as she was. But before too long, he knew that two or three of the pirate galleys would race out toward her from the long line ahead. The interesting part would begin when they recognized his personal code flags and the Truce flags flying from Charger's masthead. He gave the orders for the crew to pull in their oars and pull on their armor, then went below to his own cabin to equip himself. Seeing Charger completely defenseless might be enough to overcome some of the pirates' scruples about violating Truce.

When he returned to the deck, he saw that two galleys were in fact pulling out ahead of the pirate fleet and closing on Charger. Blade strained to identify them, shading his eyes from the sun-then gulped as he recognized the badges on the approaching sails. One was the late Esdros' Spider Prince, the other was Cayla's own Sea Witch. Gasps and mutterings from the crew as they crowded forward to look told him that they also had recognized the approaching ships. Of all the Captains of the Brotherhood, Cayla was the most likely to be driven by a l.u.s.t for vengeance to throw caution and tradition to the winds and violate Truce. But there was nothing they could do about it without abandoning their whole plan, except what Brora was already doing-going among the men and warning them to be prepared for anything, with their weapons ready to hand.

Sea Witch was coming up so fast that even from miles away Blade could see the water foaming white at her ram and under her flashing oars. Cayla was obviously eager to come up with him and was driving her rowers along at a deadly pace. Within a few more minutes, Blade could make out every detail of Witch, now miles ahead of her consort-details including Cayla herself, standing on the quarterdeck as rigid as a stone statue. She did not move, nor did any of the other armed men on her ship's deck. Witch might have been a ship manned by statues, the oars pulling her along moved by magic.

Those oars did not stop until Sea Witch glided to a stop off to port of Charger, and her crew came pouring on deck fully armed. Cayla was also wearing armor, Blade noticed-a crested metal helm and a contoured leather cuira.s.s that yet left her with an oddly s.e.xless appearance.

But the voice that called across the hundred feet of water to Blade was the same as before, except for a new note of deadly rage.

"Well, Blahyd, how has being a traitor suited you?"

"What makes you think I am a traitor?" he shouted back.

That jerked her violently into silence for a moment and caused the men on Witch's deck to look at her and then at each other. Another moment, and she shouted back: "You slay Indhios, slaughter his picked men like sheep, and now you come and say you have not betrayed the Brotherhood? Indhios would have given us Royth like a roast pig on a platter, and now he is dead. Dead at your hand, you traitor!" Her voice had risen to a scream, and Blade saw her crew drawing swords and nocking arrows to their bows. He motioned his own crew to do the same, then replied, making his voice sound full of injured innocence: "Indhios was as much of a traitor to the Brotherhood as to Royth. Or at least he would have been. And the Brotherhood would have been destroyed in discovering this." Cayla's head jerked in astonishment, and Blade pressed his advantage, his voice becoming more urgent. "Indhios didn't want to rule Royth as the puppet of the Brotherhood. He wanted to rule it in his own right. He would have betrayed Royth, all right, and let you do all the hard work of destroying his enemies. Then he would have turned on you with his own men and destroyed you or driven you out. Then he could have ruled Royth as its savior from the pirates." Blade had a stack of carefully forged doc.u.ments below in his cabin to prove his arguments. He wondered if he would need them. Such a double betrayal would have been just like Indhios, and he suspected that the wiser heads among the pirates knew that already. But the experience of the other Richard Blade, the top-ranking secret agent, was guiding him now, with memories of how important it could be to support a lie as fully as possible.

Blade couldn't read the expressions on the faces staring at him over Witch's railing. But the total silence on the other ship's deck made him hope his words had left some sort of impression. He saw heads turning toward him, then Cayla waving one hand in a chopping gesture. Witch's men slipped their arrows back into the quivers and their swords back into their scabbards. Blade took a deep breath. Cayla hailed him again: "You have invoked Truce, Blahyd. And you bring word that might best be laid before the Council of Captains. Otherwise I would take your ship and kill your men before your eyes, then send your cods to your high-born doxy! You will follow me." She turned her back decisively to bark orders to her crew, who began dropping down to the rowing benches. Sea Witch swept away while Charger turned under Brora's orders to fall in astern of her, and Spider Prince curved round in a great circle to take up a position at the very rear. Like a convict and two guards, the three ships set off for their goal, the ever-growing pirate fleet that now blackened fully half the horizon.

At the brutal pace Witch set, they came up with the advance guards of the pirate armada within half an hour. Blade saw familiar badges on the sails of the galleys as they fell behind and saw their crews pointing and staring at his own flags and the Truce banners flying from Charger's masts.

Beyond the advance guard lay a stretch of open sea, then the main body. Four hundred ships now seemed a conservative estimate of its total strength, Blade felt. There seemed to be an endless arc of galleys interspersed with high-prowed merchant vessels, now stretching completely across Blade's field of vision, and seeming to reach around to either side to engulf the three ships racing up to it. He could see the sun winking on helms and weapons aboard some of the merchant vessels, the intricate frames of catapults and ballistas on the high castles of others, skiffs and pinnacles with bright orange and blue and gold sails darting back and forth among the larger ships, like swallows around cliffs.

Blade soon saw that Cayla was leading them toward a particular ship, a huge merchantman even larger than Khystros' long-gone Triumph. From its three masts streamed the green and white banner of the Captain's Council of the Brotherhood, the same that Blade had seen over Council House on Neral. As Charger drew closer and the flagship loomed higher and higher over him, Blade saw that her decks were crowded not only with armed soldiers, but with Captains in full battle gear, as well as their ceremonial white baldrics and green cloaks. It appeared that Charger had arrived in the middle of a full meeting of the Council itself. Blade wondered what the Captains had been discussing before and smiled at the havoc he would be wreaking on their carefully planned agenda. Those Captains senior enough or distinguished enough to win seats upon the Council were also often old enough to have developed a taste for complicated paperwork and tidy agendas.

The seniors were out in even greater force than usual, judging from the amount of gray and white in the beards that appeared at the railing as Charger ranged alongside the flagship. A rope ladder plummeted down onto Charger's deck. Blade caught it nimbly and scrambled up to the deck of the flagship.

As he stepped onto the deck, so did Cayla on the other side of the ship. The mercenaries and even the Captains eased themselves out of her path as she strode toward Blade. He could read her expression now-suspicion, hatred, and sheer cold fury mixed in constantly changing proportions. She too was now wearing the emblems of a Council member, a sight that made Blade even warier. She must have been rising fast and far in influence to take a seat on the Captain's Council while still barely thirty.

She stood watching him, hands clasped behind her back and feet braced apart, while the High Captain, chairman of the Council, ran through the formal greetings in a chilly and perfunctory manner. Not even for a traitor would the Brotherhood now violate a proclaimed Truce, but the control Blade saw written in many faces was stretched thin.

When the High Captain had finished speaking, the sudden silence and the eyes turned his way told Blade that it was now up to him. "Captains," he began. "I did indeed flee from Neral, and it was indeed after slaying a fellow Captain. But that Captain and certain others-" he glared at Cayla, whose face showed no reaction "-for reasons of their own attempted to murder me by night in my own quarters. I defended myself, slaying Esdros and some of his companions. I plead guilty to bad judgment in having fled and suborned my crew to help me flee, rather than await the justice of the Brotherhood." He hoped that last bit of flattery would go over well with some of the senior Captains. But he could see no change in the frozen faces staring at him.

"So I came to Royth, and far from being welcomed as a traitor to the Brotherhood, was cast in prison and only liberated by unexpected influences." He would not have Larina's name dragged into this debate if he could avoid it; he owed her that much. "As I gained the freedom to move about, I saw that Indhios was planning to betray not only the Kingdom of Royth, but afterwards the Brotherhood, and rule over the ruins of both. He was a man to whom it came naturally to betray everyone in succession." That, at least, was no lie. "So I set myself to defeat him, for the good of the Brotherhood, and did so. How, I am sure you all know." There was still no thawing of the faces confronting him, but heads began to nod. The silence went on until the High Captain cleared his throat.

"Blahyd," he said shortly. "You have proof of this?"

"I do."

"Let it be brought before the Council, then." He turned sharply on one sea-booted heel and strode away toward the aft cabin, the other Council members following him, all except Cayla, who glided like a prowling cat over to Blade and hissed in his ear (at least it sounded like a serpent's hissing to Blade's tight nerves), "Remember, Blade. I will denounce you if I once suspect you of telling a lie."

Blade nodded. "I still serve the Brotherhood, Cayla. Why should I tell a lie? It seems to me that you have more to conceal. How many of the Captains will fight to restore the rule of the Serpent Priestesses, I ask you? Denounce me, and they will find out all you so freely told me."

Cayla sprang back as though she had stepped barefoot on hot coals, and her face turned white and red and then white again with rage. Her lips tightened until they were bloodless; then she let out a long, whistling breath and nodded. Blade waited until she was out of earshot, then let his own breath out in a long sigh. He was gambling that Cayla was still so committed to her fantasies of reviving the Serpent Cult that a threat to reveal them in open Council would intimidate her. If he could keep her from stripping the "cover" off his-and Royth's-cover story, he felt he had at least a fighting chance of convincing the Brotherhood to follow the desired course.

It was indeed a "fighting" chance that the Council gave him, when they sat in the great cabin of the flagship to listen to his story in more detail. After three hours of presenting his own arguments and listening to the Council wrangle, Blade felt as wrung-out and sweat-soaked as he had felt after more than one battle.

He had spent only a few minutes of those three hours reviewing what had happened between his flight from Neral and Indhios' fall. Whether they held him innocent or not, the Council apparently had little interest in that part of his adventures. Indhios was dead; he could not be revived. "So," as one elderly Captain put it, "we need to play with the cards Blahyd dealt us, whether we will or no.

What really kept the Council's attention centered on him was his story of the panic in Royth. No part of that story was a total lie. Everything happening in Royth over the past few weeks was, he knew, known to the pirates. It was simply a question of shading the truth, of revealing the actions but hiding the motives.

The royal navy of Royth-fled northwards, its commanders crying out that they were too weak to fight the pirates, too weak to do anything but hide themselves until the pirate fleet had departed. (Savage laughter around the Council table; words such as, "By the time we've departed, they'll have naught left to defend save the bare bones of the Kingdom!") Likewise, the royal army, scattering into garrisons in a frantic effort to defend every key place at once. (The pirates-and even more, the mercenary officers-didn't even bother to laugh at that. They only grinned fiercely.) High Royth in turmoil, stripped of its garrison, some citizens making desperate efforts to arm themselves, others clogging the roads inland in headlong flight, some simply cowering in their houses, hoping to escape notice when the pirates stormed over the walls. (More mocking grins.) The gold and precious stones from the royal treasury dispatched north, in a hastily a.s.sembled convoy of wagons "How much of the treasury?" from the mercenary commander, and the Council looking at their hired man with sourness at his intervening in the discussion.

"I'm not absolutely sure. I heard reports of at least twenty million crowns, perhaps half again that much. It was a huge convoy-two or three miles of wagons, and a whole cavalry brigade riding escort." Blade broke off and tried not to grin too openly in response to the l.u.s.t for gold that he saw spreading across every face in the Council-except Cayla's.

"Mmmmmm," said one of the Captains after a long silence. He sounded like a small boy just offered a lifetime supply of ice cream.

"I think-" began another Captain, paused, then went on quickly. "I think they are practically throwing their gold into our hands. And if we take all their gold . . ." He seemed too stunned by the prospect to be able to finish his sentence.

"Yes," said the High Captain. "If we can take all of Royth's gold at a single blow, it won't matter whether or not we defeat their fleet and army this time. They will be so crippled that we can return with an even larger force next year and finish them off."

One of the oldest Captains, judging from his completely white hair and beard, began to bristle. "Are you suggesting that we hire even more mercenaries, bought soldiers not of the Brotherhood, rather than rely on our own strength? Where then is our victory-our honor-?"

"Where is your sense, Fenz?" snapped the High Captain. "Royth is our enemy, and it matters little how we smash them if smash them we do. Does anyone care to join Fenz in disputing that?" The High Captain's hand dropped toward his sword hilt. Fenz glared at the High Captain and fingered his dagger, and Blade saw others do the same. Again, he had to fight back a grin. Sowing dissent among the Council Captains was something he had hoped for but hardly expected- Cayla's voice sliced through the building tension like a knife cutting fruit. "Why count our gold before we have it in our hands? Blahyd, do you know where this mighty convoy was going?"

"Not certainly. I stole a map that shows the general area where they were going to hide the gold, but many different cities are marked on it."

"Where is that map?"

"Aboard my ship."

An immediate flurry of orders as men were sent out to bring Blade's files from Charger and others to bring in wine and food. Blade, in spite of his taut nerves, found he was ravenously hungry, and in politeness the Council permitted him to eat with them. Eventually-perhaps three-quarters of an hour, although seeming to Blade like three-quarters of a day-both the meal and the perusal came to an end. The High Captain handed the map, now well splotched with gravy and wine stains, back to Blade. Then he rose, placed his hands on his Baldric of Office, and addressed the Council according to the traditional formula: "Captains of the Council of the Brotherhood. I, High Captain, say unto you: let each say yea or nay that we shall sail north in search of the horded gold of the Kingdom of Royth. And as ye hope for the blessing of Druk and honor among your Brothers and the great glory of the Brotherhood, speak only your true mind, and when all have spoken abide by the decision of the greater part." He began calling out the names of the Captains. There were twenty-five in all, and when all twenty-five had spoken out, the "decision of the greater part" stood nineteen to six in favor of going north.

Blade sagged into his chair at the release of tension. He had done his part in the plan, whatever happened to him now. And Cayla seemed to have some ideas on that score, the way she was looking at him. He was not surprised when her voice again cut in.

"What are we going to do with Blahyd?"

"What do you want to do with him, Captain?" said the High Captain. A number of other Captains chuckled and still others threw out bawdy remarks that made Cayla again flare red, then turn pale and speak in a clipped voice.

"He deserted the Brotherhood, even if you think he did not betray it. And now he has convinced us to sail north in search of Pelthros' gold. What is there to show he will not desert us again, running off to warn Pelthros so that His Artistic Majesty can lay a trap for us?"

Blade thanked both the local and Home Dimension G.o.ds that his plan did not depend on his being free. The forces of Royth could carry out their part of it whether he was with them or not, or even whether he was alive or not. Cayla was obviously determined to do as much to him as the Council would let her do-or as much as the Council could be persuaded to overlook. And she had raised the possibility of a trap. Oh well, if she hadn't, there would have been somebody else intelligent enough to do it. The nods around the Council table indicated that much.

"Very well, Cayla," said the High Captain. "You are quite possibly right. Will you take charge of him yourself? Or do you wish another to bear the burden of carrying out your idea?"

Cayla bridled at the High Captain's tone of voice, but said nothing in reply beyond, "I will accept him"

"Good." The High Captain rose again and spoke in his formal tone. "The Council of Captains of the Brotherhood has decided. Let the orders go out: we sail north. And may Druk prosper the Brotherhood in this undertaking."

When Blade came on deck, escorted by four mercenaries with short swords and javelins, the Council's decision had already hurled the fleet into a frenzy of activity. Men were swarming up the flagship's rigging to make extra sail and double-man the lookout posts. Rainbow strings of signal flags soared up the mizzenmast and were answered in kind from nearby ships. Amidships, two dozen armed guards were climbing down the rope ladder onto the deck of Charger. Blade saw Brora standing in their path, tension and alertness written in every line of his stance, and shouted down to him to let the guards go where they would. Farther aft, a crew of sailors under the profane urgings of a bearded bosun's mate was breaking out a thick hawser and paying it out over the side onto Charger's deck. Blade realized that both he and his ship would be closely guarded on the voyage north. And afterwards? He had just reached the point of speculating on that when he heard a footstep behind him and turned away from the spectacle to face Cayla.

Although they were almost breathing into each other's faces this time, he could read no expression in any of her features. She once more had herself totally under control, both body and voice.

"Well, Blahyd, you have won your victory."

"Sister Captain, the Brotherhood has won it." He could not relax one bit of his pose as a fanatically loyal Brother, least of all with this bitter, deadly, suspicious woman.

"The Brotherhood is too busy dividing the gold they have yet to see to worry about the difference. I hope-for your sake-there is none. If there is . . . " She shook her head. "If you do not betray the Brotherhood, I have no choice but to let you survive betraying me." Her voice dropped. "And the Sisters of the Serpent." She bared her teeth in a death's-head smile. "But if you betray the Brotherhood, there will be none to complain if I avenge both betrayals at once. And I have allies to help in my vengeance." She c.o.c.ked her head to one side and directed her eyes over the side at the water, as if she could see through the shimmering surface and the green and blue fading down below into the depths. Blade would not permit his face to suggest that he knew what she was talking about, but he felt a cold chill. It was a stronger chill than the sudden shadow that fell over them both could cause, the sudden shadow of the sails as the flagship came about on her new course northwards.

CHAPTER 20.

When Blade came up onto the flagship's deck after breakfast, he found the same scene that had greeted him every morning for the past week. To seaward a flat, glazed blue sea stretched to meet a glowing blue sky, the sea broken only by the sails of the patrol ships and the sky by a few puffs of white cloud.

Toward the land, the first thing he always saw was Charger, tied up alongside the flagship like a kitten snuggling up to its mother. Men were moving on her decks-the guards, leaning wearily against the masts and railings in postures that reeked of boredom, and her own crew, washing down the decks and airing hammocks under Brora's supervision. On either side of the flagship a line of merchant vessels stretched off for miles into the distance, their sails furled and decks bare except for morning working parties and officers taking the air like Blade. These were the deep-draft transports, which drew too much water to anchor closer in or run up on the beach.

Farther in toward the land a line of galleys and smaller merchant vessels tugged at their anchors. Beyond them still another line of masts rose into the air, marking the galleys actually drawn up on the beach. Amid those masts rose the thin curls of blue smoke marking the cooking fires of the camps on sh.o.r.e.

Then the land climbed into swelling green hills, marching away and blurring into the faint haze that shrouded the landward horizon. The nearest hill was surmounted by a scar of black-the ruins of a small fishing village. The ruins had been smoldering as late as two days before, long after the flames and screams that rose into the night as the pirates sacked the village had died away.

It had taken the pirates two days to sail north to their chosen landing point and another day to put ash.o.r.e their landing force, fortify the camp, and anchor or beach their ships. Cayla's fear of a trap had had some effect; the pirate fleet was less vulnerable to a seaward attack than Blade had hoped it would be. But it would most certainly be short-handed. On the fourth day the landing force had marched off into the hills, more than thirty thousand men in four great columns. Occasional faint spots of fire in the night and distant pillars of smoke by day showed where they were spreading out across the countryside in search of the gold horde of Royth. Otherwise, they might as well have all marched off the edge of the world-or into a sealed trap laid by the army of Royth. Blade hoped it was the latter.

The flagship was coming awake around him now. Smoke curled up into the almost windless air from the galley smokestack as the cooks prepared breakfast. All the fresh provisions were long gone; breakfast would probably be another unappetizing mush of pounded biscuit and minced salt meat. Amidships, the officer of the watch was looking importantly around him, taking bearings on the neighboring ships to make sure the flagship had not dragged her anchors during the night. Forward, one of the anchor windla.s.ses creaked as a working party hauled buckets of seawater for washing the decks thirty feet straight up from the sea. One of the armorers squatted on the deck with a large pot of paint, carefully dipping the tips of catapult bolts into it.

The faint brrrum-brrrum-brrrurn of an oarmaster's drum beating out a cruising stroke came over the water to Blade. Turning, he saw Sea Witch gliding past, Cayla for once sitting rather than standing by the tiller, her unhelmeted blonde head gleaming bright in the sun. She raised an arm in mocking salute as Witch cut across the flagship's stern, heading out to take up her patrol station. Blade was glad when the other ship pa.s.sed out of his field of view. Seeing Witch and Cayla reminded him always of her murmured words about the allies she had, to deal with Blade in case of treachery.

Yet somehow on such a day, all stillness and color and sunlight, it was hard to believe in the slithering submarine monstrosities that Blade's imagination conjured up out of his memories and his fears. He had seen no signs of them during the voyage north or the week of waiting. Perhaps they could not survive so far from the haunted waters of Mardha where they laired.

But he had also seen no signs of the royal fleet of Royth. That was much less welcome. How long would the fleet wait in its northern lair before bursting out and taking the pirates in the rear? They were less than a day's sail north of the pirate anchorage. Had Pelthros' admirals developed cold feet? The trap had to close on both the pirate fleet and the pirate army to make the victory complete. If only their army was destroyed or driven away, the whole thing might have to be done over again in a few years, regardless of what he had said in the Council. Blade found himself sweating with more than the rising heat of the sun and pacing the deck like a caged animal, until he caught himself and forced himself to sit down and at least look calm.

Breakfast arrived-what he had expected. He pulled out a wooden spoon and sat down on a canvas stool to eat. The shrieks of squabbling seabirds floated up from aft as the cooks emptied the garbage over the side.

Then all at once Blade saw smoke gush into the air at the far northern end of the line of merchant vessels. Some seconds later a dull thud floated down the line to his ears. He saw eyes swivel to follow his own gaze and took a closer look.

Oily gray-brown smoke was pouring up from a ship anch.o.r.ed close in the lee of the little peninsula marking the northern end of the bay. Even as Blade watched, another ship spouted smoke and this time flame, and splashes went up beside a third one. Somebody up on the peninsula was doing remarkably good shooting with a siege engine firing-what? Pots of burning oil, most likely.

Blade didn't wait to wonder who was attacking or why at this time. Only one force could be striking at the pirates here and now. Why the royal fleet was attacking its superior opponent in broad daylight was something to consider later. Right now there was not a split second to spare for either him or Charger if they wanted to get clear of the pirate armada safely.

He had only his eating dagger; the first thing to get was a weapon. The guard a.s.signed to him was too busy looking north to notice anything else until he found himself jerked off his feet and over the railing by two colossal arms. Blade barely had a chance to get a good grip on his new sword when two other guards ran at him, pikes leveled. He launched a kick at one that took him down with a smashed kneecap and opened the throat of the other with a backslash. Then he dashed forward, toward the galley smokestack, s.n.a.t.c.hing up the stunned armorer's paint pot on the run.

He whipped his arm up in an underarm swing, and the paint pot arched through the air like a cricket ball and dropped out of sight down the smoking galley stack. Blade was already backing away, dueling furiously with three sailors, when the galley stack spewed black smoke and orange flames. Screams floated up from below as the galley fires erupted all over the cooks. Smoke was already beginning to billow up through the hatches as Blade ran lightly up the ladder to the foc'sle, locked both arms around the windla.s.s rope, and slid down it to the sea.

He landed near Charger's stern, to be almost at once nearly knocked silly by the body of a mercenary guard that came sailing over the stem railing, a cutla.s.s firmly rammed through its chest. He swam forward to the waist, keeping on the side of Charger away from the flagship for safety's sake, then seized the mooring line of one of the boats bobbing there and hauled himself furiously up the side onto the deck of his own ship. It was the first time he had stood there in nearly ten days.

Another mercenary ran at him as he got to his feet. Blade, seeing that the man was trying to flee rather than trying to kill, sidestepped his clumsy lunge, tripped him, and pitched him head first over the side. It seemed now to Blade that all his trained perceptions and reflexes were operating at a higher pitch than ever before, now that the final moment of action had arrived. So it was a fighting machine that saw and heard and felt everything, and killed nearly everything in its path that sprang into combat.

One of the crew was trying to hack through the hawser holding Charger to the flagship. A soldier ran at him, ran him through, then died with Blade's sword jutting out through his chest. Blade whipped the sword free just in time to hack down a javelin thrust at him and take off the wielder's arm-on the backswing. Another man darted past Blade, s.n.a.t.c.hed up the fallen axe, swung it down on the hawser. Blade in his turn s.n.a.t.c.hed up the javelin and hurled it to bring down a soldier backing a sailor against the foremast, then whirled around to face two more soldiers.