“I was thinking more of sentries who don’t want to face the rain. I’m sure you’ve known that breed.”
Haimya had enough wits left to grin at Pirvan’s words. “Then you suggest we go on?”
“It’s the last thing anybody will be expecting us to do. That makes it the best way of keeping our surprise.”
Haimya had the grace to look up at the sky and shake a fist at it before nodding. Pirvan dug in his staff and took the lead.
I hope I don’t have to use the Spell of Seeing the Expected, the thief thought. How does one look like a rainstorm, anyway?
* * * * *
As the minotaurs swarmed up Golden Cup’s side, to Lady Eskaia they looked like a rockslide-solid brown, black, and gray masses moving in an irresistible wall. Except that this rockslide was sliding up rather than down, each “rock” a strong, seasoned, and well-armed fighter, and there was no safety out of their immediate path. This avalanche would pursue every human aboard Golden Cup to death or slavery, unless the humans could fight it to a standstill.
Eskaia began to wonder if she’d been wise to remain on deck. She could hardly do much up here except perhaps get useful fighters killed trying to protect her, and fighting her own fear would be harder. She wanted to put her hand in her mouth and bite down on it hard to stifle a whimper of terror.
But a look over the side told her that the archers’ shafts had flown true, once they started shooting to hit live targets. At least one minotaur was sitting down, with a shaft in one arm and another in his left thigh. He was awkwardly trying to work the second arrow clear, when a human archer put a third shaft into his eye. He threw up both arms, fell over backward, and lay still except for a trickle of blood from his mouth.
He wasn’t the only minotaur who needed to pluck encumbering shafts from his body, but he was the only one who fell. The rest came on, streaming blood or with rag dressings about their wounds. The first minotaur to reach the deck actually had the stub of an arrow protruding from his belly. Eskaia closed her eyes and shuddered at the thought of how the minotaur must feel.
That much pain ought to be unlawful.…
“Are you well?”
Eskaia opened her eyes and saw Kurulus beside her. His voice was tight, and that almost frightened her into another shudder.
“Frightened, yes. Is that a sickness?”
“Right now, it’s good sense.” Kurulus looked her up and down. “I take that back about the good sense. Is that helmet all the gear you have?”
Eskaia patted her dagger. “I have everything I know how to use. In a fight, anything else is just extra weight.”
“You’ve been listening to that sellsword maid of yours-” Kurulus began.
“She is a shrewder fighter than most aboard this ship, I tell you,” Eskaia snapped.
“I don’t deny that,” Kurulus said. “I only wish she and Pirvan were here now,”
“I could wish for a pair of siege engines and fifty Qualinesti archers, too,” Eskaia snapped, “but my wish would be as futile as yours.”
From below, a sling stone whistled up, parting Kurulus’s hair. A finger’s-breadth lower and it would have split his skull. The mate drew his sword, a broadsword rather than a sailor’s cutlass, and pointed toward the stern.
“Stay behind me. War luck may save you from the minotaurs, but if it doesn’t, nothing will save me from Jemar.”
“Jemar-?” Eskaia began, knowing she’d heard something not really intended for her ears. But Kurulus was balancing on the railing, then leaped down to the next deck, and at last vanished into the swirling chaos that was now Golden Cup’s deck amidships.
Another stone flew, and this one took a sailor in the arm. Before he could cry out, Eskaia was beside him, urging him to the deck while she drew clean cloth and a flask of healing potion from her purse.
With her hands busy, it became almost easy not to think of what might happen next, even not listen to the charnel house din of what was happening now.
* * * * *
Pirvan and Haimya found their cliff only after the rain had slackened. In civilized lands, it would still have been called heavy rain, enough to break a drought or send streams out of their banks, but Crater Gulf was not a civilized land.
The thief mentally amended his resolve to avoid quests that took him to sea. He would also try to avoid those that took him into jungles, at least during the rainy season (though it had begun to seem doubtful that this coast had any other).
They still had ample warning of the cliff. Unfortunately, this warning did them little good. The sixty-foot drop was by far the easiest way down. Indeed, as the rain lifted more, they saw that it was virtually the only way down on their present route. Elsewhere the descents were either higher, more dangerous, or waterfalls swollen by the rain.
The only other alternative was retracing their steps and taking their chances with alerted sentries, not to mention patrols from the two camps also probably warned by now. Following this route to the castle had at least the same virtue as marching in the rain-it was something that no sane person would be expected to do.
“We’d better lower our heavy packs first,” Pirvan said. “Easier and safer than pulling them after us.”
At least Haimya made no protest at the idea of climbing down. Her face seemed the same hue as when she had been seasick, but she began unbuckling her pack with steady hands.
It took both ropes together to get the packs safely down, and for a while afterward Pirvan wasn’t sure if the slipknot was going to slip. Finally it did its duty and he hauled the rope in hand over hand, watching carefully for places where it might snag or fray against sharp edges.
“This face seems fairly smooth,” he said, as he examined the rope.
“Also fairly visible to anyone who wanders by,” Haimya said. She looked down. “Oh, pardon. I see that rock spur a trifle farther down the valley. Anyone beyond it won’t be able to see the cliff.”
“No, and on a day like this nobody is going to be wandering about from idle curiosity,” Pirvan said.
“Or perhaps even strictly ordered duty,” Haimya said.
“You’re the soldier,” Pirvan said. She grinned. “Now I want you to move around as if you were dancing,” he added. “A lively dance, like something sea barbarians would do in a tavern.”
Haimya looked at the cliff. “Let me step back a few paces.”
It did not surprise Pirvan to see that each one of Haimya’s movements flowed naturally into the next. Had she been dancing in a tavern, she would have danced on silver by the end of the evening.
“Good.” He stepped forward and began undoing the knots on one of her pouches.
She raised a hand and gently pushed his away. “Pirvan, what are you doing?”
“Sorry. I should have explained.” He told her briefly about the need for having all one’s gear balanced while climbing.
“I balanced mine without thinking, but I nearly forgot that you don’t have a thief’s training.”
“Perhaps I should gain it,” Haimya said. This time she made no protest when he started rearranging her gear.
Pirvan shook his head. “Ten years ago I would have said that. Now-I don’t know.”
“Night work is hard for one who is more good than not, I suppose.”
“You flatter me, Haimya. I’ll go where the gods put me, when they tell me where that is. But meanwhile, I wouldn’t mind work that let me sleep easier of nights. I beg your pardon,” he added, realizing that his hands were roaming over parts of Haimya’s body that might give offense.
“None needed,” Haimya said. Her smile showed a good many teeth; also true warmth. “But do keep your thoughts on the serious work. Else we shall end up sleeping together at the bottom of this cliff never to wake.”
* * * * *
Grimsoar One-Eye had fought minotaurs twice before, once in a wrestling bout that not only began friendly but remained that way, and once in a brawl that was unfriendly from beginning to end. It had taken a skilled healer to put his back and hip in order after the brawl, which had left him willing thereafter to keep his distance from minotaurs.