The ship launched into escape speed before the captain even gave the order. The cephalid handlers on the creature's brain were straining to keep her from fleeing at top speed until she was too tired to swim any farther.
"Evasive action!" the captain yelled. "Go, helmsman, go!" The leviathan surged away from the second ray, which followed close behind. Farther on, the first ray remained out of the chase and out of harm's way.
"Can we outrun them?" Veza asked.
"For a short time, but we'll get tired first."
"Can we fight?"
The captain shook his head. "We can ram them, but their stingers won't miss again. They only need about five seconds of con-tact to kill a ship this size."
Veza looked hard at the screen, then back at the captain. "How deep are we?"
"Doesn't matter. They can go as deep as we can."
"I don't want to go deeper. I want to go up."
The captain clicked something derogatory. "This is a deep sea vessel, ma'am."
"I know captain. But it's also a fish. Is this fish agile as well as fast?"
"She can turn back on herself without missing a stroke."
"Glad to hear it. Tell me, then, does this fish… breach?"
Realization sparked in the captain's eye, and he smiled at Veza. "Helm," he called. "Point the nose straight up. Maximum possible speed." He swam over to the ship's handlers to make sure they understood precisely what was expected of them.
The leviathan lurched and shot up though the chasm waters toward the surface. To Veza, it felt like gravity had shifted ninety degrees.
"Give me an aft view." The screen showed the ray close behind, accelerating to keep up with the leviathan's sudden burst of speed.
"We're almost at the surface, sir."
"Forward view." The screen now showed the surface, rushing toward them like a great liquid field.
"Maintain course and speed. On my mark, I want this vessel tucked and pointed straight down, back at the water."
"Aye, sir." The leviathan broke the surface and shot high into the air. The screen showed a huge wash of spray and painfully bright sunshine. Clouds in the sky rolled around the screen.
"Everyone hang on. Mark!"
Guided by her handlers, the ship wrenched itself into a U, then snapped back into its streamlined shape with its nose pointed downward. Veza, two crewmembers, and a handler were tossed around the bridge like beans in a can. Gravity quickly overcame the ship's motion, and the leviathan dropped back toward the sea.
Below, the razor ray had stopped just below the surface, confused about its prey's disappearance. The viewscreen showed a massive shadow fall over the submerged ray just before the leviathan's bony carapace came crashing down on it-with all twenty tons of leviathan behind it.
The scrying screen went black until the captain barked, "Aft view."
Behind them, the remains of the razor ray were no longer recognizable as anything that had ever been alive. A small cheer went up.
"Back to your stations!" the captain said. Before the crew could regain control of the leviathan, however, a blue-green beam lanced out of the second ray, the one with the silver horns. The beam splayed across the length of Llawan's transport, though there was no immediate reaction.
"Resume evasive action. Helm, get us deeper into the chasm."
"Helm is not responding, sir."
The captain swore. "Handlers?"
One of the robed cephalids swam up. "The ship is entangled, sir. She is blocked on all sides and cannot move."
"Damn." He looked angrily at Veza.
"What's wrong?"
"He's tangled us in sargassum. Whatever that spell beam was, it covered us in enough seaweed to choke this vessel dead in the water."
Veza struggled to think of something, anything, that would help them. She was interrupted by Laquatus's amplified voice.
"Greetings, Mer survey vessel. This is Laquatus. Prepare to be boarded."
The captain lowered his head, then lashed out at the console before him. Veza steeled herself for a reunion with the ambassador. On the screen, a half- dozen more vessels and behemoths swam into view, each wearing the ambassador's standard.
"And if the empress is by chance on board," Laquatus said, "let me add a hearty 'welcome' from the next Emperor of Mer."
CHAPTER 16
Kamahl and Chainer stood before the First, in the public reception hall of the manor. The First was dressed formally, with full robes and headdress, and he sat on a tall throne surrounded by his hand and skull attendants. Skellum stood beaming between the First and the fighters with the Master of the Games behind him.
"Twelve wins in a row," the First said. "Quite impressive."
"Thank you, Pater." Chainer said. He nudged Kamahl.
"Right. Thanks." The barbarian was clearly uncomfortable in such a fine room. He looked longingly at the door.
"But now, I'm afraid, the winning streak must end." "Of course, Pater." "What?"
Skellum and Chainer glanced at Kamahl. The barbarian was genuinely confused, on the point of becoming angry.
"It's all for the best," the Master of the Games said. "We're going to put you two up against another crusat squad from the Order. They'll win, become bolder, and start sending more teams into Cabal City. People are nervous with all the changes in leadership around here. They like seeing simple fights they can understand and root for. A barbarian and a Cabalist going up against toy soldiers, over and over again. You win some, they win some. It's familiar to crowds. Comfortable."
"I agree," Kamahl said, "but I don't lose on purpose."
"We're the house team," Chainer spoke quickly to fill in the uncomfortable silence. "And the house never loses. Not in the long run."
Kamahl made a rude noise. "That's dreck. If you don't win, you lose. Period."
"Would it help," the First said calmly, "to think of this as a strategic withdrawal? You'd be letting the Order have a small victory, so that you can secure a larger one later?"
Kamahl shook his head. "I don't fight to lose. I don't think I know how."
The First steepled his fingers. "Not even if the larger victory we're waiting for includes the Mirari?"
Chainer and Kamahl both perked up at the mention of the arti-fact's name. The Mirari hadn't been offered as a prize since Fulla brought it back from Mer.
"You're planning another Mirari games, Pater?"
"Yes, my child. And soon."
"But we need the right kind of build-up," the Master of the Games broke in. "The Order has to feel there's a chance of them winning. If they take down our best two-man team, they'll be sure to come back."
Kamahl shook his head again. "No deal." Chainer shot Skellum an agonized look, but Skellum could only look back with sympathy.
"Forgive us, honored guest," said the Master of the Games, "but the team of Kamahl and Chainer is going to lose their next bout. It has been arranged."
"Then the team of Kamahl and Chainer will not compete." Kamahl glanced at Chainer, then spoke to the First. "You have been an excellent host, Cabal First, but I am from a different tradition. I'm here to fight. I'm here to win the Mirari with strength, speed, and skill. When you decide to offer it up, I will be ready to work for it. But until then, count me out of these games you play to increase the audience and drive up the odds."
The Master of the Games started to speak, but the First interrupted. "I am truly sorry you feel that way."
"As am I. I mean no offense, but I was raised and trained never to do less than my best."
"You are a barbarian of principles," the First said. "But if you are not going to support our agenda for the next games, I'm going to have to ask you to excuse yourself. We have Cabal business to discuss."
Kamahl nodded, glanced at Chainer, and then stomped out, his heavy boots echoing down the hall with each step.