The Dragon's Egg Page 8

  So as we strapped on swords and knives, and in Mikah’s case a bow and quiver, I said carefully, “There may indeed be Gods out there with power of some kind. But if so, I have never seen any sign that they take an interest in us.”

  “But everything in the world shows their interest in us,” Mikah said. “Why else would there be so much food provided for us to eat? Why else would rain fall to water the crops, and the sun shine to ripen them? It’s obvious.”

  I wasn’t much of a philosopher, so I let that go. “Just be cautious of religious folk, that’s all. Don’t take their word for anything, use your own judgement.”

  “Of course. I’m not stupid, you know.”

  The deck was quiet now, the alarm bell having done its work and been muffled again. All the sailors were in their appointed places. Although it was evening, brightmoon was only two days away, and the ship was lit as bright as a summer’s day. Around us, the fog had thinned and become patchy, so that here and there I caught a glimpse of the rigging above my head, alive now with people frantically releasing sails. The wind was fresher, too. I was no sailor, but I’d spent enough years in the open to notice the change of direction, and be glad that it would speed us along.

  I saw the captain peering through the fog with a seeing tube, but sight wasn’t sharp enough to spot anything, even looking through the tube with his eyes.

  “Can you see what’s out there?” I said to Mikah.

  The boy shook his head. This raider ship was some distance away, then. Good, that was good. A bit more fog would make it easier to avoid them, but still, the ship was fast and agile enough to escape them, whoever they were.

  After a while, the captain came down to the alcove where we stood, trying not to get in anyone’s way.

  “You are ready for any eventuality, then,” he said, with a glance at my sword. “I hope it will not come to that, but if it does, you will be most welcome, I assure you.”

  “How did we fall into the path of these people?” I said. “I thought the Straits of Dri’allar were safe enough.”

  “Aye, so they should be. The merchant vessels are mostly what these raiders want, and big ones travel in convoy for safety, and the smaller keep close to the shore. A small passenger ship like this would not normally be a target, but these last few years they have become more daring. And Master Zarin is right, unfortunately. We have drifted too far from safe waters.”

  “But we can outrun them, surely. This ship is very manoeuvrable, isn’t it?”

  The captain chewed his lip. “Well, yes. But have a look.” He handed me the seeing tube. “Those look even more manoeuvrable, to me.”

  Adjusting the seeing tube, I looked where he pointed. And I saw the problem at once. I couldn’t keep the astonishment out of my voice. “Those are sword ships, from the southern coast. So what under the sun and stars and all the moons are they doing here?”

  “Very good question, Master Garrett. You had best contemplate your seven Gods and hope for a good, strong wind to blow us to safety.”

  “The seven are not my Gods,” I muttered, as he returned to his post at the far end of the deck.

  There is one thing to be said about a battle at sea: it doesn’t take you by surprise. On land, you can wake to the clash of spears and swords and find yourself in the thick of it before you’ve had time to take a piss. Or you can be riding along, enjoying the scenery and thinking about the delightfully friendly serving girl at the last inn, and have fifty grim-faced and well-armed soldiers jump out from behind rocks. There’s no time for too much thinking.

  But no one can be taken unawares by a sea battle. For hours we watched the sword ships grow, at first no more than specks on the horizon, then gradually drawing nearer until even I could see men in the rigging, and hear the shouted commands. The wind favoured us, but they were fleeter. We shifted about, first one way, then the other, but they were depressingly agile. There were only two of them, but they were fast and determined. They were on our coastward side, so our efforts to avoid them drove us further out to sea, and close to the islands that crowded thickly here.

  “There are people living out here,” Mikah said. “Look! Smoke, from a campfire, I expect. And there’s a boat over there, between those two islands. Maybe we can get help.”

  “Those are the Dri’allar Islands, Mikah.”

  “So?”

  “That’s where the raiders live. That smoke is from the fires cooking their supper, and that boat is full of raiders waiting to scoop us out of the water if we try to swim for it.”

  He was silent after that. But there were some things that, perhaps, needed to be said.

  “I’m sorry you had to hear your mother insulted back there,” I began.

  He reddened and shrugged. “I’ve heard it all before.”

  “You were not surprised, then? By Zarin’s suggestion that Rythin might not be your father?”

  “No, no. I’ve known for years. My mother told me all about it.”

  “Oh.” That was a surprise. I’d thought Shakara more secretive than that. She’d always strenuously denied any entanglements, in my hearing, anyway. “So she told you who your father is?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “And you’re happy with that? Sometimes that kind of revelation… well, it changes a lot of things.”

  “I couldn’t be more happy about it,” he said, looking straight at me, without a trace of embarrassment.

  That was interesting. There were several rumours about Mikah’s parentage, none of them very savoury. Personally, I’d always wondered if he might not be Rythin’s all along, and that Shakara played some secret game of her own in concealing that fact. But apparently not.

  The captain waved me over. “How much of a fight do you have the stomach for? Because we will have to decide soon if we are to surrender or stand.”

  “I’m not the leader of our group. It’s hardly my place to make a decision like that.”

  He looked me up and down, as if measuring my courage. “You have more experience of such matters than the lady or the scholar or the priest. My role is to transport you all to the homeland, no more than that. My sailors are not trained in warfare, but they will fight willingly to defend the ship – and your people, if you deem that necessary. But I would not see my friends die without good reason, and that is not a judgement I can make.”

  “I don’t want anyone to die without good reason,” I said. “But I don’t want to surrender tamely, either, not if we have a chance of escaping.”

  “Good. Then we understand each other. I believe we cannot avoid the conflict, but the question is whether we can fight them off successfully.”

  “I don’t think the odds are very good,” I said. “Those ships are too delicate to sink us directly, but they will be full of well-armed fighting men ready to board us, and a few well-aimed crossbows will reduce our sails to ribbons. They also have fire buckets on deck, I see.”

  “You are observant,” he said. “Fire is the greatest risk, yes, although they will not use it unless we force them to.”

  “And if we surrender?” I said. “What would that be like?”

  A long pause. “Not pleasant, but we are more valuable to them alive and with all our limbs. They do not kill – not directly, at any rate. We would be sold to the slave merchants, and shipped along the coast.”

  “What about the women? Would they be mistreated?”

  The captain avoided my gaze. “Rumour has it that their queen forbids such practices.”

  “Queen?” That was interesting.

  “Aye, they are ruled by a queen – of sorts. However, I find it hard to believe that she can restrain these men, who clearly have no scruples at all, or they would be respectably employed on the mainland. I think the women should be prepared for the worst. And men too – anyone young and attractive will be vulnerable.”

  Mikah gave out a tiny squeak, but when I looked at him, his mouth was set in a line of grim determination. I wasn’t sure whether he was more
concerned on his mother’s account or his own.

  “May I borrow your seeing tube?” I said.

  The captain handed it over wordlessly, and I gazed at our attackers. Nothing about them surprised me. The spears and bows, the mailed hands resting on sword hilts, the shadowy helmed faces. Neat rows filled both decks, as they waited quietly to engage us. Some quick counting – they outnumbered us three or four to one, and they were well-armed, probably well-trained. They exuded discipline.

  “We will surrender,” I said.

  The captain nodded. “Very well, Master Garrett. I will give the orders.”

  He made his way down the deck, years of experience allowing him to roll with the rises and falls without holding on.

  I felt rather than saw Mikah’s hostility. “What would you have me do?” I asked him.

  “Fight! Fight for our honour! Tamely surrendering… it’s… it’s…”

  “Cowardly? Or practical. Here.” I passed him the seeing tube. “Tell me how much honour we would end up with against that little lot. We have precisely two trained swordsmen and a bunch of sailors who’ve honed their combat skills in tavern brawls. Gambling is in my blood, Mikah, but I know how to weigh the odds. If we fight, a lot of people die and we will still lose. Better to live, don’t you think? Live, and save our strength for another day.”

  “But… slavery?”

  “Slavery is illegal.” Drusinaar’s voice startled me. I hadn’t seen her emerge from below deck.

  “It may be illegal, but it still goes on,” I said.

  “Slavery is illegal,” she said again, tonelessly. Her eyes flicked about restlessly.

  “That doesn’t help, Dru!” Mikah hissed.

  “Actually, it does,” I said. “If slavery is against the law, it can only happen in secret. If a slave manages to escape, the law will not intervene. That gives us possibilities. But first we have to survive.”

  One by one, the others emerged on deck, too. The slowing of the ship had given them hope, but Mikah was quick to tell them I’d ordered the captain to surrender.

  “The Gods will protect the virtuous,” the priest said.

  Shakara raised her eyes in exasperation. “As if these animals care which of us might be virtuous.”

  I wondered if Shakara counted herself as virtuous. Probably. What is virtue, anyway, and who decides? No one is without fault. I’d done some pretty bad things in my time, but lately I’d have called myself a good man. It was all a matter of balance, doing the best you could and hoping the good outweighed the bad.

  I shuffled round the group until I was next to Zarin. “Drusinaar says that slavery is illegal. Is that true?”

  His eyes glittered, but whether with irritation or amusement I couldn’t say. “You are asking my advice now?”

  “You know more about these things than I do. I’ve never been so far north, and I’m not much of a book reader. The old empire was built with slaves, so it’s said, but I don’t know how things are now. I’d like to know what we face.”

  “Slavery was abolished when the Akk’asharan Empire was destroyed. What they have now is bonded servitude. Some people enter into it voluntarily, and others are sold into it. It is just like being a servant, only without the option to leave – unless you buy your freedom, of course.”

  “You can buy your way out of it?”

  “Of course. You can redeem the bond at any time, if you have the coin.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad,” I said. We’d have an unpleasant time of it for a while, but I’d never had a problem acquiring money.

  Gradually the sails were tied away, and the ship lost speed. A long line of flags was hauled up, which I guessed was a coded message to the raiders. The little sword ships drew nearer, one on each side of us now. There were some shouted instructions, a bump as one of the two came alongside, and within moments men were swarming over the rail onto our deck.

  “Well, a fine bodyguard you turned out to be,” Shakara hissed in my ear.

  I ignored her. As if I didn’t know that I’d failed. This might be a pragmatic decision, but it didn’t make it any easier. The thought of Drusinaar in the hands of these savages was like a spear to the gut. Shakara and Zarin, too – neither of them would do well as slaves. The priest – I didn’t care much about him. Let his precious Gods look after him.

  We waited while the raiders secured the ship. They were very efficient. The leader stood amidships, barking out orders, and his juniors jumped to his commands. The lower-ranked crew members were bound and led away to one or other of the sword ships. The captain and senior crew surrendered their weapons and were held at swordpoint while the ship was searched. Only then did they turn their attention to us.

  Mikah and I had unstrapped all our weapons, even the boot and sleeve knives, laying them down on the deck. They searched us pretty thoroughly, even so, and none too gently. Mikah squeaked when they found his tender parts.

  “Nothing there at all,” one of the raiders said, and the others laughed.

  “Still, he’s a pretty boy,” one of the others said. More laughter. Mikah reddened, but wisely said nothing. Then they herded us into the captain’s group, swords at our throats. We waited, while the leader went below deck to inspect the findings.

  “Are you not even going to attempt to escape?” Shakara said to me.

  “Don’t think so, no. But don’t let me stop you.”

  She clucked in annoyance, shaking her head, but she seemed angry rather than fearful. I disliked her intensely, but I had to admire her spirit.

  Drusinaar stood quietly, watching everything, quite composed. Mikah was pale, but steady. The priest was muttering contemplations under his breath. Fat lot of good that would do. Zarin – poor Zarin quivered from head to toe. It was lucky we were in a sheltered spot, out of the wind, for I think the slightest puff would have blown him over. Nothing in his quiet life of books had prepared him for this sort of situation, and he was terrified, poor man.

  The moon was almost set, and dusk had spread itself across the three ships, before the leader emerged from his inspection below deck, and ambled over to us. He was tall, handsome in a way, with coal-black eyes set in sallow skin. It was a strong face, the trials of his life etched into deep grooves around a harsh mouth, twisted just now into a superior smirk. I could only hope he wouldn’t look too closely at me under my beard.

  A minion held up a lamp so that he could examine us, one by one, moving through the group without his helmet or mail, just basic armoured leather. If I’d only had a knife in my hand, I could have wiped that smirk from his ugly face.

  Unfortunately, I was as helpless as a baby.

  He reached me, looked in my face, moved on. Stopped. Came back. Looked at me again. The smirk spread right across his face.

  “Well, well, well. If it isn’t my old friend Garrett.”

  He began to laugh.

  9: The Sword Ship (Zarin)

  Zarin shivered. He was chilled to the bone, even though they were crammed into the hold of one of the small ships with all the captured sailors, with crates and barrels all round them, and the sailors’ hammocks suspended from beams above their heads.

  “You might have told us you knew these people,” Shakara said. Her voice oozed anger in the dark.

  “I didn’t know for sure until I saw Kestimar’s face,” Garrett said irritably. “Besides, what difference would it have made?”

  “You could have told us something about them,” Zarin said wearily. “Perhaps we might have been better prepared.”

  “I don’t see how—” Garrett began, his tone sharp.

  “Tell us now,” Zarin said. “Everything you know about these people.”

  A heavy sigh. “Right. They are originally from the great plains between the Sky Mountains and the Crested Mountains—”

  “The Plains of Kallanash,” Dru said. “Three thousand marks from east to west at the widest point, five thousand from the Two Rivers Basin to the southern coast. Originally home to the
nomadic Vahsi, who followed the herds of kishorn. Then the Petty Kings settled in the centre, an area now known as the Karningplain. The climate—”

  “Yes, yes, child, we know,” Zarin said. It was a comfort that she felt no fear in their present situation. She might remember every word she had read, and quote them with great precision, but her mind had no understanding, and the Gods knew, she was better that way. If only the rest of them could be free of their terrors.

  “That’s right,” Garrett said, his voice softer. “The Karningplain, that’s where the leader comes from, anyway, and a few of the others. The rest of them are new to me.”

  “And how do you know these people?” Zarin said.

  Garrett sighed. “I’m from the Karningplain myself. I left there with them fourteen years ago, spent eight years in their company. But I’ll tell you this – I was very glad to see the back of them, and I hoped I’d never see any of them again.”

  Zarin was sure there was more to the tale that Garrett wasn’t saying, but he had no energy to fight with him. “So they are civilised, these people?” he said wearily. “This is… just trade? Take a ship, keep whatever is useful, sell the rest?”

  A long silence. “Not sure how civilised I’d say they are,” Garrett said. “But then, we’re all savages underneath the fancy clothes, aren’t we?”

  “Speak for yourself,” Shakara said.

  ~~~~~

  The ship moved swiftly for a while, then there were shouted orders, feet running about, a rhythmic chant to accompany some task or other, and the ship slowed almost to a halt.

  A hatch above their heads was flung open, and a lamp wavered there. Two men scampered down the ladder, one holding the lamp aloft while the other scanned the silent prisoners. They stopped at Garrett, and grinned.