«The pirates will not trust us if we simply approach them as we are. But suppose we approach them in company with a ship we have taken from the fleet of the Emperor? They will know that we have committed ourselves to their side. Also, we may have a valuable batch of prisoners, who can be useful in many ways.»
Blade merely looked polite. Prince Durouman seemed openly delighted. «That's a marvelous idea, Commandant. But where do we find such a ship?»
The commandant looked around the little cabin. «This is knowledge we have received in Parine, but which does not seem to have reached the mainland. The Emperor is sending out armed sailing ships toward the eastern part of the Silver Sea, to watch the coasts of the Five Kingdoms.»
«And land spies and assassins?» put in the prince.
«Probably,» said the commandant. «The ships will be sailing alone, many miles apart. Our fighting men would easily outnumber the crew. Once we boarded, it would be all over.»
«Yes,» said Dzhai, «but-«He hesitated.
«But what?» said the commandant severely. Blade fought down an urge to kick the man in the shins under the cabin table. «What is your objection, Captain Dzhai?»
«It is not easy for a galley to attack a sailing ship if the ship has good guns and brave men behind them.»
«It is not easy to sink it, no,» said Prince Durouman, obviously sharing the commandant's annoyance. He was only trying to be polite to Dzhai out of respect for Blade. «But we wish to capture it. That is a matter of boarding and hand-to-hand fighting.»
Dzhai shrugged. Blade said nothing. He had some thoughts of his own about how galleys might sink sailing ships, but he didn't want to say a single word about them in front of the commandant.
Blade did not care very much for this idea of an attack on one of the Empire's scouting vessels. It meant an unnecessary battle and therefore an unnecessary risk. Blade had fought in more battles than any ten ordinary men, but he had never liked unnecessary ones and always avoided them when he could.
Besides, what was this about the scout ships? He hadn't heard anything of it until just now. If it had been known in Parine, as the commandant said, why hadn't he been told?
Blade firmly reined in his suspicions. It was quite possible that he was looking for sinister implications that weren't there. There was no good reason why he should have been told everything that Princess Tarassa learned. Besides, Prince Durouman was obviously falling in with the commandant's idea. That was the best argument of all for Blade's keeping his mouth shut. If he didn't, it could lead to an open quarrel between him and Prince Durouman. That would be a much greater danger to their success than anything that might come of this attack on the Imperial scout ship.
So Blade kept silent as Kukon made her way steadily toward the north.
They sighted the Imperial ship at sunrise on the morning of the seventh day out. At the lookout's wild cry, Blade started scrambling up the foremast shrouds to the crow's nest.
He saw the two masts and high-castled hull of a large sailing ship rising slowly above the horizon. There was only the faintest of breezes. If the calm held, Kukon would be able to run rings around the enemy. Perhaps she could even take a position off her bow or stern that would be safe from the enemy's heavier guns. Perhaps the commandant's idea would turn out to be a good one after all. Perhaps
Never mind the «perhaps.» There was a battle to fight. Blade leaned over the railing of the crow's nest and shouted down to the deck.
«Dzhai! Luun! All hands to battle stations!»
Dzhai nodded. Luun cupped his hands and shouted back, «Tek doon t' sails?»
«No time!» That wasn't strictly true, but Blade wanted to make absolutely sure that Kukon had something beside her oars to rely on if something-anything-went wrong. He swung himself back into the shrouds and slid down to the deck.
Two hundred of Kukon's men were now scrambling to their places on the rowing benches. Each man had a sword, bow, axe, spear, or musket ready under his bench. The rest of the men not needed for handling the ship were manning the guns or lining up, ready to board. Blade saw Prince Durouman take his place on the foc'sle, surrounded by his thirty green-clad guardsmen. The prince's face seemed one great smile.
Most of the other men on the deck were smiling as well. Some of them might not have gone out of their way to fight against the Emperor Kul-Nam, but none of them seemed to regret the chance to do so, now that it had come to them.
The drummers were beating out the cruising stroke. They would approach slowly, saving the rowers' strength for the final dash across the last three miles when they would be in range of the enemy's guns. Blade looked toward the Imperial ship. She was now hull-up, even from Kukon's deck. Her sails still hung as limply as wet wash from the yards.
Blade strode up and down Kukon's deck as she crept across the sea toward the enemy. He talked briefly with Dzhai, more briefly with Luun, still more briefly with Prince Durouman. The prince wore a full mail hauberk and a plate helmet and breastplate over that. In spite of the damp coolness and the breeze, he was sweating heavily and his dark beard was as limp as the enemy's sails.
The commandant was also sweating as he stood by the heavy gun forward. He wore no armor and carried no weapons except a sword and a dagger. Doubtless he was planning to rely on speed rather than protection. He was a first-class swordsman. He was also a man who'd been a soldier for twenty years without ever seeing a real battle. No doubt that was why he was sweating. The first taste of the real thing was always a nerve-wracking moment for any man in any Dimension.
Now the enemy was showing signs of alarm and alertness. Blade could see sails being hastily furled and hear a faint roll of drums as the enemy's crew scrambled to their battle stations. Kukon swung more sharply to starboard to cut across the enemy's bow.
A puff of white smoke came from the sailing ship's side. There was a long moment's wait, then a fountain of spray three hundred yards short of Kukon.
«Not shooting very well, are they?» said the commandant. His voice was brittle.
«They'll be doing better before long,» said Blade.
The galley continued her crawl across the sea toward the sailing ship. The enemy continued to fire single shots, testing the range. Six fell short. The seventh landed just astern. The eighth sailed over Kukon, with the familiar ripping-canvas sound, and splashed into the water on the other side.
Blade looked back along the swaying ranks of the rowers. All were sweating heavily, but most still smiled and none showed signs of strain. Some were eyeing their weapons. There was plenty of strength left in them.
Blade sprang up onto the breech of the heavy gun, drew his sword, and flourished it over his head. The pale sunlight glowed along it.
«Men of Kukon-forward! Drummers-the attack stroke!»
The roar of the drums was almost instantly drowned out by the furious clatter of the oars. Kukon seemed to dig in her stern like a speedboat as she shot forward. Water fountained up over the ram and spray doused Blade and the commandant. The gunners turned their backs to shield their lighted matches with their bodies.
The enemy ship grew steadily larger. Now Kukon's bow gunners spun around, holding their matches. They shouted, and Blade and the commandant sprang clear. Then four gunners pressed four matches into the touchholes of four cannon. All four went off together with an eruption of sound, flame, and swirling smoke. By the time Blade's eyes stopped watering, all four balls were nearing their target. Two struck home. Blade saw splinters fly and a chunk of the enemy's bulwark suddenly vanish.
«Good shooting!» he shouted. The gunners acknowledged the praise with brief smiles, white teeth showing in powder-blackened faces, then bent to their work again.