“What now?”
“The Minotaur’s ship-gone.”
“Sunk?” Aurhinius allowed himself a pleasant moment’s fantasy in which Pride of the Mountains had rammed and sunk Gullwing. Then he could offer the Karthayans to Waydol as the price of peace-
“No. Stolen away, in the night. That heir was treacherous, after all.”
“Either that or a bad navigator. Did he possibly follow the transports when they parted company, thinking they were the main fleet?” The landing party was on its way south; Aurhinius had spent all the time that he could spare, praying for their safe arrival.
The secretary shook his head dolefully. “It was no mischance, my lord. We found a boat they’d set adrift with a lantern tied aloft in her midst, to deceive us.”
Aurhinius put his feet out of bed. The deck seemed colder than last night. So did the air. In these waters, such a drop in the temperature often meant a storm. Several other things seemed more useful at the moment.
“I presume the fleet is pursuing?”
“Yes. The foremost scout reports she has Gullwing in sight, but may not be able to close with her before nightfall even if the wind stays fair and the weather clear.”
“I am ecstatic,” Aurhinius said. Another matter left dangling suddenly struck him. “Has anything been seen of Tarothin?”
“Nothing, my lord.”
“Where was Pride of the Mountains when Gullwing disappeared?”
“Ah-in the next column, or so I have heard.”
“Within-shall we say-swimming distance?”
“For a strong, bold swimmer, perhaps, but wizards are-”
“More apt to use their heads than anyone in this fleet seems to be doing at the moment.”
Aurhinius retained the powers of speech after this last remark, but declined to waste words that would accomplish nothing. He pointed at the door. The secretary could not have departed, or the servants entered, more swiftly, if Aurhinius had sworn the sails from the masts and the masts from the deck.
* * * * *
Darin wanted to climb to Gullwing’s masthead and study his pursuers himself. Instead, he kept his feet on the deck and his faith in the lookouts. They were carefully chosen for keen eyes and cool heads, and the least of them was more agile aloft than he was.
Find good men under you, and you will not need to be everywhere at once and do everything yourself. It was as if Waydol’s voice had spoken to him on the sea wind.
“Deck, there!” the lookout called. “I can see some more ships behind the lead one.”
No need to ask if they were Istarians. Darin looked aft. At first sighting, the Istarian pursuer had been visible only from the top. Now he could make out its sails from the deck. The other Istarians were still too far off for anyone but the lookouts.
“Think we ought to lighten the ship?” the Mate of the Deck said.
“How?” Darin asked. “I don’t like dropping ballast when it may be coming on to blow, and that’s slow work anyway.”
“I was thinking of the food and water. We’re either not going to be out here long, or we’ll be out here forever and needing no food or water.”
“You are in fine spirits this morning,” Darin said in gentle reproof.
“I can count fingers held up in front of my face,” the mate replied. “Leastways, until after the fourth cup.”
Darin considered. Gullwing had been loaded with stores for a long voyage with a full crew. They’d reckoned that if the ship returned early, it would be to carry off Waydol’s men, with no time for loading new stores.
Now it seemed that the first task was to make sure that Gullwing returned at all.
“Start with the water casks,” Darin said. “Broach them and pump the water overboard. Then lay out sails to catch any rain the storm may bring. And have Tarothin come to me. I trust he is well?”
“Oh, well he is, Heir. Willing, that’s another matter. But he’ll see reason.”
* * * * *
Jemar and Eskaia stood side by side atop the midships deckhouse of Windsword. It was not as high as Jemar wished to go, but it was as high as he dared allow Eskaia.
Also, climbing aloft and making the lookouts uneasy would speed no sightings of friend or foe.
What made Jemar more uneasy was the sudden drop in the temperature overnight, together with the rising wind. The fog was long gone, but he felt in his bones that a storm was coming.
A natural storm, for now. But it’s no secret that weather magic is easier when you can play with power already set afoot instead of doing everything with your own spells.
Tarothin commanded some weather spells; Jemar hoped the Red Robe was looking for a chance to use them.
“Deck!” called the lookout. “Signal from Thunderlaugh. She’s sighted beacons ashore. Says they’re your private signal.”
Eskaia’s sigh of relief nearly matched the force of the wind, and she gripped her husband’s hand. Jemar would have danced if he’d no dignity to think of.
“Well and good,” Jemar said. A messenger ran forward, to the sailors at the signal halyards. Soon flags were soaring up to the yardarms and breaking into blazes of color against the sullen sky.
Thunderlaugh signaled back, with the course and distance to the beacons. Jemar sent thanks and promise of reward to Kurulus, shouted the same to the lookout, and then unbent enough to hug Eskaia.
“Almost done?” she said, returning the embrace.
“Call it a good, long step forward,” Jemar said, freeing one hand reluctantly to make a gesture of aversion. The sea gave men victory only reluctantly, and it could strike back in many a natural way before the men ashore were safe.
Jemar made another gesture of aversion, this one with both hands. He had just performed it when the lookout called down again, this time in a voice cracking with excitement.
“Sail, ho! It’s a galley with a minotaur’s head on her foresail. Gullwing for sure, and she’s coming on fast, like someone was chasing her.”
Jemar frowned. The galley would be out of signaling range for some while yet, and even then its crew might have no way to read sea barbarian signals. Should he deploy his ships for battle now, or wait until he knew more?
One thing he knew: His ships were already beating hard to windward. Maneuvering them into battle formation would slow them still further.
Something else he also knew: The time to take care was when danger was only a possibility. True enough on land, and ten times truer at sea.
Jemar looked at his ships, then began inking three signals on a smooth-shaven wooden message board.
“I see what you want the ships to do,” Eskaia said, looking at the board. “But why?”
“This way, we’ll leave the heavier ships in open water, to meet Gullwing and her pursuers. They’ll stay between the enemy, if there is one, and the lighter ships will go in to Waydol.”
“Will it come to a fight?”
“You sound almost eager.”
Eskaia flushed. “I beg your pardon. The fight aboard Golden Cup was quite enough for me. Besides, I am quite unfit to wrestle minotaurs now.”
Jemar embraced her again. If it was the Istarians pursuing Gullwing, he wasn’t sure they wouldn’t be better off facing minotaurs!
* * * * *
Tarothin lay in his bunk, not because he was sick, reluctant, or entranced. He merely needed all his concentration to understand the message he was receiving.
He also needed more than concentration to believe it in the first place.
The first ticklings of the message were not in his mind, but in other parts of his body. Parts associated with certain ancient rites that he had performed with Rubina, more than once and with great joy. At least on his side, and he was gentleman enough to hope that she had taken as much as she gave.