The Ruling Sea Part 22

'What are you going to do?' asked Pazel.

'Get Thasha her onion, what do you think?'

Astonished, the tarboys did as they were told. When they were alone Hercol took Thasha's hand.

'This is an unnatural hunger,' he said. 'You must not give in to it as soon as your hands close on an onion. It could very well be a trap.'

Thasha nodded. 'I know. But Hercol, you can't break down that door. You'll bring people running from all over the ship.'

Hercol smiled at her. With a quick glance along the pa.s.sage, he put a hand through the neck of his shirt and drew out a leather strap. On it hung a tarnished bra.s.s key.

'This is one of the ship's master keys,' he said. 'Diadrelu found it on the berth deck.'

'You've seen Dri!' whispered Thasha.

'Alas, no. One of her sophister sophisters appeared two nights ago in my cabin. I gather Mr Frix used the key to confiscate Fiffengurt's journal, and lost it in the scuffle that followed. As for Dri, I begin to worry. The ix-girl who brought that key looked troubled when I asked after her mistress, though she would tell me nothing. But hurry, now--' He lifted the key around his shoulders and gave it to Thasha. 'Get your onion, and get back out here, and whatever you do, don't take a bite.' don't take a bite.'

Thasha put the key in the lock. The door protested, and Thasha had to shake it up and down in its frame, but at last the key turned and the door sprang open.

Hercol pa.s.sed her the candle, and when she was safely inside he pulled the door shut behind her. The galley was long and narrow, and stank of coal and scrubbing lye. Its centerpiece was the Chathrand Chathrand 's great stove, an iron behemoth about the size of a cottage, with twelve burners, four baking ovens (one large enough for a whole boar), a firebox for coal and another for fuelwood, various warming, smoking and steaming chambers, and a hot-water boiler. Heat throbbed from it still, although the fire had been snuffed; Thasha couldn't imagine what the galley was like when the stove was roaring. Down the starboard wall ran a long cooking counter, with drawers, cabinets, and storm-safe racks of cooking implements above and below. Along the opposite wall ran the sinks and the racks of plates, bowls and cutlery. 's great stove, an iron behemoth about the size of a cottage, with twelve burners, four baking ovens (one large enough for a whole boar), a firebox for coal and another for fuelwood, various warming, smoking and steaming chambers, and a hot-water boiler. Heat throbbed from it still, although the fire had been snuffed; Thasha couldn't imagine what the galley was like when the stove was roaring. Down the starboard wall ran a long cooking counter, with drawers, cabinets, and storm-safe racks of cooking implements above and below. Along the opposite wall ran the sinks and the racks of plates, bowls and cutlery.

Onion. Thasha tiptoed forward, squinting. The counters were spotless, the dishracks empty, the towels knotted on their hangers. There were garlands of dry chilis like spiny red snakes nailed up on the beams, and hanging baskets of garlic, and (Thasha caught her breath) a skinless, salt-cured deer dangling from its antlers and dotted with flies. But no onions.

Thasha rounded the stove. There had to be another storage area. Where was the flour, the rice, the biscuit soaking for tomorrow's meals? She scratched at her arms, thinking I can smell the d.a.m.n thing. I can smell the d.a.m.n thing.

Turn around.

Thasha froze. Had someone spoken? No, no: she was talking to herself. She turned around, raising the candle as she did so.

Between the third and fourth sink, which she had pa.s.sed just moments ago, stood a little waist-high door. Amazed that she had failed to notice it the first time, Thasha approached. The door was cracked and pitted, its green paint flaking away; it was clearly very old. Could that be the pantry? What an odd piece of junk, she thought, in a place that was otherwise as neat Chadfallow's surgery.

She took hold of the iron k.n.o.b - corroded, rough against her palm - and hesitated. For some reason she was apprehensive about the door, and what might lie beyond it. Absurd, she told herself. What could possibly threaten her in an empty galley? But this is the But this is the Chathrand, Chathrand, and that door's blary strange. No, it's not quite absurd to be-- and that door's blary strange. No, it's not quite absurd to be-- Tw.a.n.g. Thump. She whirled about, drawing her knife from her belt in a flash. Dangling into the pa.s.sage was a wicker basket. It was strung beneath the first and second sinks, on short cords, but one of the cords had just snapped, tipping the basket on its side. Potatoes and cabbages rolled across the floor - and yes, there was an an onion, huge and red and perfect, the very specimen she had been craving for an hour.

She pounced on it, and the smell made her moan. Hercol's warning stood no chance. Setting the candle on the counter, she dug her nails into the dry outer skin, found purchase, ripped.

Instantly her craving vanished. The skin of the onion came off in a single sheet, and beneath the crackling outer layer it was strong and supple as leather. Thasha turned it over in her hand. The onion itself meant nothing to her now. It was the skin she needed, the skin that had called out to her in her sleep.

She spread it flat beside the candle, with the slick inner surface facing up. She brought her face close. And where her breath touched the onion skin, words appeared: words written in fire.

She had seen their like once before, on her bedroom ceiling in Etherhorde. Pale blue fire in a handwritten script - Ramachni's script. The mage was speaking to her at last.

Forgive me, Thasha: I am weak, and fall back on what tricks and small powers I can to send word to you. Worse still, Arunis has painted your ship in spells of warding and interference. I had a long search for a means of reaching you that he would be unlikely to detect - if only because a craving for onions should strike him as too foolish to investigate.

The sorcerer taxed me more than he knows in our last battle - and far more than I wish him to know. But return I shall at the promised time, and fight again at your side. Before that day I may be able to send another message, or messenger - and then again, I may not.

For today, three warnings: first, YOU MUST READ THE POLYLEX. YOU MUST READ THE POLYLEX. Knowledge cannot spare you pain, indeed it may increase your suffering, but what is that compared to the doom on the world? If you have left off reading it, as I suspect, my advice is to start at the bitter end and work back to where you stand. Knowledge cannot spare you pain, indeed it may increase your suffering, but what is that compared to the doom on the world? If you have left off reading it, as I suspect, my advice is to start at the bitter end and work back to where you stand.

Second, keep an eye on anyone who spends time with Arunis. Like me he is hiding his battle-wounds, but whatever the extent of his powers, his cunning remains. I am worried also by the way he controlled Mr Druffle: the human mind is easily swayed, but rarely seized by force. What is certain is that he will do the same to others, given the chance.

Third, beware your own great heart. Our enemies will try to use it against you, having failed to kill you or make you afraid.

You, Pazel, Neeps, Hercol and Diadrelu were singled out by the spirit in the Red Wolf. That spirit, be it Erithusme's or some other's, believed you could defend your world from the Nilstone. But this much I have learned from afar: your guess was right. There were seven, not five, burned by the molten iron of the Wolf. You must find the other two and enlist them, no matter who they are.

I will not lie to you, my champion: you stand over a precipice, upon a bridge so frail that it will crumble at the slightest misstep. And yet you must gain the other side. We all must, or perish together in the fall.

Ramachni

P.S. Here is a fourth warning: do not open that green door behind you. Keep your loved ones from it too.

Thasha blinked: the mage's scrawled signature was fading, fading - gone. And when she raised her eyes, she saw that the entire letter was gone as well. Just as before, the act of reading had erased them; the only place where they remained was in her mind.

Three warnings . . . anyone who spends time with Arunis . . . two more bearing the wolf scar . . . How could he possibly expect her to remember everything? She wasn't a mage; she wasn't even a particularly good student, as Pazel had reminded her over their Mzithrini lessons. But after a moment of panic, Thasha found herself growing calmer. The message was frightening, but not so complicated. And if Ramachni believed she could remember it, then she would do so. She would hurry back to her cabin and write it down. . How could he possibly expect her to remember everything? She wasn't a mage; she wasn't even a particularly good student, as Pazel had reminded her over their Mzithrini lessons. But after a moment of panic, Thasha found herself growing calmer. The message was frightening, but not so complicated. And if Ramachni believed she could remember it, then she would do so. She would hurry back to her cabin and write it down.

Her eyes fell once more on the ancient door between the sinks. Keep your loved ones from it too. Keep your loved ones from it too.

As she emerged from the galley, Hercol called softly to Pazel and Neeps. The tarboys came running. 'What happened?' asked Neeps breathlessly. 'Did you find your onion?'

'Please tell me you got what you wanted,' said Pazel.

'Not exactly,' said Thasha, relocking the door. 'But don't ask me any questions. I'll tell you everything in the morning.'

'Then there's something to tell?' said Neeps.

'Lots. But tomorrow, please! Let's get some rest while we can.'

Hercol reached for the key, and paused a moment, feeling the tremor in her hand. 'Yes,' he said softly, 'I think we shall need it.'

16.

Dhola's Rib

5 Freala 941 114th day from Etherhorde

A sharp rap of wood on wood. Jorl and Suzyt erupted in howls. On the bench under the gallery windows Pazel jerked awake, hit his head on the window cas.e.m.e.nt, tangled his feet in the blanket and fell to the floor.

It was pitch dark. Outside the stateroom Hercol was shouting 'Madam! Madam!' The dogs bayed; Neeps flopped over with a groan. Pazel heard Thasha sweep from her cabin. They collided; she cursed, pushed a dog to one side, and threw open the stateroom door.

Yellow light flooded the room. There in the doorway stood Lady Oggosk, dressed in a sea-cloak, holding a lamp and a walking stick of pale, gnarled wood. Hercol stood beside her, distressed by the old woman's intrusion but unclear whether to prevent it by force. Oggosk pointed at the youths with her stick.

'Get dressed,' she said. 'We're going ash.o.r.e. The captain has need of your services, Pathkendle.'

Hercol loomed over her, furious. 'I do not know how you pa.s.sed through the barrier, old woman. But you give no orders here.'

'Shut up,' said Oggosk. 'You're coming too, girl. Bring a weapon. And bring this valet of yours; he's useful in a fight. The Sollochi runt I will not allow.'

Thasha looked at her coldly. 'We're not going anywhere with you. Are we, Pazel ?'

Pazel was distracted by the hope that he was dreaming, and by the memory of Oggosk's threats, and above all by his collision with Thasha's soft, invisible, bed-warmed body moments ago. 'Of course,' he blurted. 'That is - no, absolutely. What?'

Lady Oggosk turned him a scalding look.

'We are at Dhola's Rib. The sorcerer is already halfway to the beach, with his Polylex Polylex in hand. If we sit back and wait he is going to learn the secret of the Nilstone's use - today, right under our noses. You won't be bickering with me then. You'll be dead, and so will I, and so will the dream of Alifros. I will see you on deck in five minutes.' in hand. If we sit back and wait he is going to learn the secret of the Nilstone's use - today, right under our noses. You won't be bickering with me then. You'll be dead, and so will I, and so will the dream of Alifros. I will see you on deck in five minutes.'

It must have been too small, or too unimportant, to appear on the chart in her father's cabin. As she dressed, Thasha s.n.a.t.c.hed a look at her own Polylex Polylex, tearing through the pages by candlelight. Daggerfish. Death's Head Coin. Deer's tongue. Dhol of Enfatha. Dhola's Rib. Daggerfish. Death's Head Coin. Deer's tongue. Dhol of Enfatha. Dhola's Rib.

In the outer stateroom Hercol was shouting her name. Thasha read only: a thin, curved islet between Nurth and Opalt, abandoned by man a thin, curved islet between Nurth and Opalt, abandoned by man. Then she slammed her Polylex Polylex, hid it in a place not even Hercol was aware of, and sprinted for the topdeck, still carrying her boots.

The island was invisible as they pulled for sh.o.r.e: Thasha could see only a dark silhouette blocking the stars of the Milk Tree. They were in the twenty-foot skiff, rowing hard but freezing nonetheless, for the wind was carving spindrift from the wave-tops and flinging it in their faces. It was frightening work, making for a sh.o.r.e you couldn't see. Rose held a lantern at the bow; Oggosk sat curled in her sea-cloak. Four hulking Turachs sat behind the d.u.c.h.ess, armour clinking as they rowed. Hercol and Drellarek took an oar apiece.

Thasha's rowing-partner was Dr Chadfallow. The man's nearness made her bristle: he lied, he conspired; he had brought the Nilstone aboard in the first place! And despite his help in exposing Syrarys' treachery, Thasha could not bring herself to believe that he'd known nothing of the s.h.a.ggat.

On the other hand, Dastu was along. That was a stroke of luck, even though his orders (he'd confided in a whisper) were to keep an eye on her and Pazel. There had been a slight hint of mischief in his voice: enough to let Thasha know that he might not follow those orders to the letter.

A blast of spray caught Drellarek in the face. He growled with fury. 'How did this happen? What fool let Arunis put a boat in the water?'

'No one authorised it,' Rose shouted back. 'The sorcerer launched the dory with the aid of one tarboy - Peytr Bourjon.'

'So Jervik's not the only tarboy he's got his claws into,' said Pazel quietly.

'They are not so far ahead,' Rose was saying, 'and it is always possible that they have struck a rock in this darkness. In that case we will try to rescue Bourjon, and let Arunis drown, as he should have forty years ago.'

'He will not drown,' said Hercol.

'But what does he want want out there?' demanded the Turach commander. out there?' demanded the Turach commander.

Oggosk pulled back the hood of her cloak. 'I told you he has the forbidden Polylex Polylex. That book holds more than knowledge embarrasing to kings. Priests and mages feared it too, for what it revealed of their own arts - the worst worst of their arts, the black charms and curses they would rather keep from the minds of men. Arunis may have stumbled on one he thinks he can use against the power that resides on Dhola's Rib.' of their arts, the black charms and curses they would rather keep from the minds of men. Arunis may have stumbled on one he thinks he can use against the power that resides on Dhola's Rib.'

'I hear music!' said Dastu suddenly. Thasha heard it too: a strange, rich, hollow sound, as of many notes played together by a crowd blowing horns. The sound came from the darkness ahead.

As they rowed on the sky began to glow in the east, and the shape of the island emerged. Thasha did not like what she saw. It was a giant rock, nothing more: high and jagged at one end, smooth and low at the other. The ridgetop looked sheer and lifeless.

The landing, however, was not as bad as she feared. The beach was narrow but sheltered and gently sloped, and a sandbar broke the force of the waves. Everyone leaped into the cold surf except Oggosk, who waited until the others had dragged the skiff well ash.o.r.e before allowing the captain to lift her down.

The mysterious noises blended eerily with the moan of the wind. Soaked and shivering, Thasha glanced up again and saw patches of sun on the ridgetop. A great building loomed there, carved from the native stone. It might once have been a mighty keep or temple, but time and countless storms had melted its edges to a waxy smoothness. The domed roof bulged out over the walls, then tapered swiftly to a weathered peak.

Higher up, where the sand gave way to rock, they found the dory beached on its side, oars tucked under the hull. Rose bent and placed a hand on the gunnel. 'Still dripping,' he said. 'Arunis is just minutes ahead of us. You--' He pointed at a pair of Drellarek's soldiers. '--will remain here and guard the sh.o.r.e. The rest of you will climb with me.'

'Captain Rose,' said Drellarek earnestly. 'Why go any farther? Maroon him here! Tow the dory back to Chathrand Chathrand and set sail! He's made no progress turning the s.h.a.ggat back into a man, and he nearly got us into a shooting war in the Bay of Simja. Let Arunis plague us no more, Captain. With any luck he will starve!' and set sail! He's made no progress turning the s.h.a.ggat back into a man, and he nearly got us into a shooting war in the Bay of Simja. Let Arunis plague us no more, Captain. With any luck he will starve!'

'On Dhola's Rib men die of thirst before hunger,' said Chadfallow, 'and there are quicker ways than thirst.'

'Thirst, hunger! What do we care?'

'One of my crew is with him, Sergeant Drellarek,' said Rose.

'That Bourjon imbecile?' scoffed Drellarek. 'Good riddance! If he's taken up with the sorcerer then he's long since broken faith with the ship.'

'So did you,' said Rose, 'when you raised your hand against the captain appointed by your Emperor. Listen to me, Turach: I alone will decide who is to be disposed of, and when.'

One side of Drellarek's mouth curled upwards, as though Rose's words amused him, but he said no more. Again Thasha felt her suspicions rise. Whatever Rose was up to, it wasn't about saving Peytr. She had her doubts that he meant to confront Arunis at all. But Oggosk means to, that's for certain. But Oggosk means to, that's for certain.

Oggosk was already hobbling up the slope, leaning heavily on her stick. The others followed, hugging their soggy coats more tightly about them. Soon they were exposed once more to the wind, which was fierce and cold.

Once Pazel stumbled, and began to roll perilously towards a cliff. Thasha, Hercol and Dastu all leaped after him, but swifter than any of them was Dr Chadfallow. With a scramble and a tremendous lurch he reached Pazel and caught his arm, stopping him just feet from the cliff. Breathless, Pazel looked the doctor in the eye. Neither he nor Chadfallow said a word.

Minutes later they gained the ridgetop, not far from its crowning temple, and stepped into the full morning sun. A spectacular sight opened before them. Dhola's Rib was much larger than Thasha had supposed. It was shaped much like its namesake bone. They had landed on the only west-facing beach. The eastern side of the island, however, curved away for nine or ten miles, before sharpening to a wave-swept point. The long beaches there were ablaze with sunlight.

And covering those beaches were thousands upon thousands of animals. They were seals, enormous, rust-coloured seals. They lolled and flopped and surged in and out of the waves, one huge congregation after another, merging into a solid carpet of bodies in the distance. From every pod came the booming, wailing, rippling song they had heard in the darkness. It rose and fell with the gusting wind, now soft, now suddenly high and drowning out all speech.

'Pipe-organ seals!' grunted Rose with a vigorous nod. 'It fits. Yes, it fits.'

'Well I'll be a candy-a.r.s.ed cadet,' said Drellarek. 'Pipers? Them beasts that come ash.o.r.e just once every nine years?'

'And on just nine beaches in Alifros,' said Hercol.

'Eight,' said Chadfallow. 'The ninth beach was on Gurishal, where the s.h.a.ggat's worshippers have known generations of hunger. One night a few decades ago they heard the singing, and rushed the beach, and killed thousands for their meat. The seals that escaped never returned to Gurishal.'

He shielded his eyes, marvelling at the sight before them. 'To the old tribes of the Crownless Lands these animals were sacred, and to hear their song was a mighty omen. What a stroke of luck to arrive today! Look there, the pups are learning to swim!'

For a moment they all watched in silence. Then Drellarek pointed and gave a belly laugh. 'And the sharks are helping out with the lesson! D'ye see 'em, boys?'

Thasha saw them: the churning dorsal fins, the pups vanishing one after another beneath the darkening foam. Those ash.o.r.e kept coming, unaware of the carnage farther out. Thasha repressed a shudder, irritated by her response (Hercol would not flinch, her father would not flinch). But laughter? That was worse, abominable. She saw Pazel looking at Drellarek with unguarded hate. Was he thinking of Ormael - the men gutted and thrown from the fishing pier, while her father, in command of the attacking fleet, sat at anchor offsh.o.r.e?

'Ouch! Pitfire!' cried Drellarek happily, still watching the sharks. 'You're right, Chadfallow, you don't see that that kind of show every day! Don't look, Lady Oggosk - Lady Oggosk?' kind of show every day! Don't look, Lady Oggosk - Lady Oggosk?'

The witch had left them behind again. They hurried after her, climbing straight for the temple. Thasha could now see a curious feature of the building: its windows. They were small, irregular ovals, scattered apparently at random across the domed roof, gaping like toothless mouths.

'That is Dhola's Manse,' said Chadfallow as they climbed. 'It is only a ruin, now, but centuries before the Rinfaith was born it was a mighty cloister, built over the island's only spring. I do not know if anyone in Alifros knows the full story of its builders. They vanished, leaving only a name - Bracek Dhola Bracek Dhola, Dhola's Rib - and a handful of legends among the sh.o.r.e folk of the western isles.'