Or would you just want to know exactly what it was that I found in the far north? Would you guess it was Dev? Would you start speculating on just how it was that he could help me kill the savages’ wizards?
The oarsmen murmured a count among themselves to measure their increasing pace. The ship gathered speed, driven on by the rushing oars. The rowers fell silent as they settled into a regular rhythm, the only sounds from the lower deck the pipe, the creak of rope, leather and wood and, lower still, the susurration of water beneath the trireme’s long, lithe hull.
‘Of course, Nyral could have found someone making free with Chazen resources,’ remarked Dev thoughtfully, ‘and come to grief himself.’
Kheda shot a glance at the barbarian before nodding slowly. ‘It’s possible. Let’s be certain we’re ready for a fight.’
He walked swiftly forward along one half of the uppermost deck as the Mist Dove ploughed through a broad, shallow channel thick with mats of floating lily leaves. The small detachment of armoured men on the trireme’s bow platform rose dutifully to their feet at his approach and bowed low.
Ten swordsmen and four archers is the complement for a fast trireme sailing as advance scout or messenger. A heavy trireme like this should have fifty men ready to put paid to any mischief. And loyal as they are, these hopeful warriors are the remnants of those too old and too young to fight the savages last year. All Chazen’s best swordsmen died in defence of their women and children as they fled the murderous magic.
‘My lord.’ The senior warrior stepped forward and bowed low. In a plain chain-mail hauberk like the rest, helm of dull steel unadorned, he was sweating profusely in the breathless heat.
‘Aysi.’ Kheda inclined his head by way of acknowledgement. ‘I was wondering if Shipmaster Nyral might have run into trouble. Will you be ready to meet any challenge that comes our way?’
‘Ready and willing to serve, my lord.’ The grizzled swordsman stroked his close-cropped beard thoughtfully. ‘Ridu will probably be safest in a fight. His strokes are still so wild no one will dare come near him, for fear of losing their head by accident.’ He spared a glance for the youngest of his ill-assorted detachment, a lad with a beard barely a hopeful shadow on his round jaw. The lad ducked his head in discomfiture as the others studiously avoided catching each other’s gaze.
Atoun would never have embarrassed a lad like that. He had the knack of welding the most ill-matched men into a fighting force that won respect for Daish from all our neighbours. There’s no one in Chazen to equal him, to take his place as commander of the warlord’s warriors. Any man who could is probably dead like Atoun, at the claws of the monsters the invaders wrought with their magic.
Kheda turned to the archers. ‘Will we have fresh meat to feed these brave warriors this evening, Tawai?’
‘Give us half a day and we could feed a fleet, my lord.’ The oldest of the archers grinned, then his lined, leathery face turned serious as he patted the quiver at his hip, bristling with red and brown goose feathers. But we can’t bring down armoured men with blunt fowling arrows. We need chisel-heads to get through armour and broad-heads with barbs to be sure of a crippling wound, and we’ve few enough of those.’
‘I’ll be happy to let Tawai and his lads drop any scoundrels from a distance. It’s too hot for close-quarters fighting.’ Aysi didn’t quite succeed in making a joke of his interjection.
‘I’m sure you’ll make every shot count, if we do run into trouble,’ Kheda assured the archers with an encouraging smile.
Because I can hardly give Dev your fowling blunts and watch while he melts the very metal of the arrowheads in the palm of his hand, then reshapes it with his sorcery to suit your needs.
Out of the corner of his eye, Kheda saw the wizard intent on something ahead of the Mist Dove, the creases around his eyes deepening as he squinted against the brilliance of sea and sky. His already thin lips narrowed further. ‘There’s the Yellow SerpentV
As Dev pointed, Kheda saw the light galley emerge from a distant channel. A brassy flourish from the Mist Dove’s signal horn rang out and the Yellow Serpent altered her course with a crash of oars stirring dirty foam from the sluggish waters.
‘Still on her own, I see.’ Forcing his face into a polished mask of serenity, Kheda left the Mist Dove’s bow to her paltry fighting force and returned to the stern platform.
No sign of Nyral, it seems.’ Shaiam sat in the shipmaster’s chair, signal horn loose in his lap as he looked over Yere’s head to gauge the distant galley’s speed.
‘My lord, let’s have both of our ships draw into that bay.’ Dev pointed abruptly to one of the few lumps of land where tandra trees reinforced by the lofty grey trunks of ironwoods defied the all-pervasive knot trees.
‘Why?’ Kheda looked at the wizard, bemused.
‘You could go ashore and see if there’s any bird pepper growing thereabouts,’ said Dev with heavy emphasis. ‘You were saying you would be needing some if the turn of the year brought any cases of worm fever. It’ll only take the two of us and we’ll barely be delayed.’
‘What?’ Kheda stared for a moment before realisation dawned. ‘Yes, that’s very true. Good thinking, Dev.’ He glanced at the shipmaster with an apologetic smile. ‘If you would, Shaiam. I imagine there will be a shortage of healers this year.’
‘My lord.’ At Shaiam’s nod, Yere leaned against his steering oar to turn the ship towards the shore. Kheda jerked his head at Dev and the two men passed behind the shipmaster’s chair to lean against the solid baulk of timber made by the curved stern planking rising up above their heads.
Good thinking, Dev, if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, but you could have been more tactful. Telouet would have made some joke about making landfall to look for plants at every opportunity, to disguise any true intention.
He studied the uncommunicative back of Shaiam’s head.
And Jatta would have had something to say about it, as shipmaster of my personal trireme for six years and more. Smooth as the seas he sailed, he’d still have reminded me of all the reasons why I was needed back at the residence sooner rather than later and that any delay should be avoided. Let’s hope he still serves Daish as loyally.
Kheda glanced at Dev but the wizard was intent on the Yellow Serpent, which had noted the Mist Dove’s change of course and was following suit. The gap between the two ships was narrowing rapidly and every eye on the trireme was on the light galley.
You people are always so hesitant about speaking your mind, on this ship, at the residence, in any village I visit. Why so diffident? Chazen Saril was no brute. Though his father had a harsh reputation and his grandfather was a byword for ruthlessness according to Daish Reik. I don’t suppose anyone taught Saril that encouraging friendship and even honest disagreement would strengthen his people’s loyalty, not weaken his authority.
But how do I encourage openness and honesty when I have so much to hide, such deceits burdening me? The Mist Dove slowed and the rowers deftly turned the vessel before backing the trireme into a shelving landing. Gritty mud grated beneath the shallow hull and anchors splashed into the water at Shaiam’s command, an answering shout coming from the sailmaster up on the prow platform.
Dev threw a rope ladder down beside the stern posts, the perfect attentive slave. ‘Let’s be quick, my lord, then we can be back aboard before the Yellow Serpent reaches us with her news.’