As the men tried to stand, it was plain to see that the ice-cold water was even higher now, and that the situation was quickly becoming hopeless. Soon other sections of this deck would be engulfed, and the Reprise would almost certainly go down. Shailiha looked over at Tyranny. The privateer's expression was hard.
"Scars!" Tyranny cried out.
At the sound of her voice the gigantic first mate looked up and saw the two women standing halfway down the stairway. It took several precious moments, but he finally managed to wade over to them.
"We aren't going to make it, are we?" Tyranny shouted, raising her lantern a bit.
Without answering, Scars turned back to look at the rent in the hull. They heard a harsh, tearing sound, as yet another plank flanking the damage came loose and flew into the room. More seawater flooded in behind it. It was now nearly as high as the crewmen's chests.
Scars turned back to his captain. "Our problem isn't so much the damage as it is the storm!" he shouted back at her. "If the ship wasn't rocking back and forth so badly, we might be able to repair her! But the situation only grows worse. If we do not succeed very soon, she will surely go down!"
For several moments Tyranny did not speak. Then she seemed to make up her mind. "I am going topside!" she shouted. "I will unfurl the sails! Then I'll do what I can to heel her over! When you feel her come hard to port and the damage to the hull rises clear of the waves, you must hurry! I don't know how long I'll be able to hold her over in these winds!"
Scars looked horrified.
"Captain, you can't do this!" he shouted back. "In a storm like this you must leave the sails furled and allow her to nose into the wind! It's the only way she'll survive the stresses! You know that! Raising the sails now could rip every remaining mast from the ship and tear the hull in half!"
By now every man and warrior in the chamber had stopped what he was doing and strained to hear the argument above the raging storm. Looking down into the rapidly flooding chamber, Tyranny scanned the workers, taking a moment to stare into the eyes of every man there. Handing the lantern to Shailiha, she placed her fists akimbo.
"This is not up for debate!" she shouted at them. "True, what I propose may not work! But if we don't try, what do you think will happen, eh? At best you have one more chance to succeed! And if you don't, we're all food for the fishes anyway!" Then her expression softened a bit, and she looked down at Scars.
"Don't fail me," she said. She turned and pushed Shailiha back up the stairway.
When they reached topside, the storm was raging worse than ever. Glancing around, Tyranny spotted one of her officers and headed for him. Snatching the lantern from Shailiha, Tyranny shoved it into the man's hands, then put her mouth to his ear.
"I want every sail unfurled-now!" she shouted. "Be quick about it! This is a matter of life or death!" His mouth hanging open, the officer looked at her as though she had just gone mad.
Tyranny reached down to her thigh, drew her dagger, and placed its blade at the man's throat.
"Now!" she barked. "Or I'll throw you overboard myself!"
With a quick nod, the officer went to give the orders.
"You're with me!" Tyranny shouted to Shailiha. Together they made their way astern, toward the ship's wheel, which was still tightly bound with rope.
"Stand clear!" Tyranny shouted. Shailiha did as she was told.
Tyranny raised her face to the storm and watched with hope as the sails came down. The wind tore at them relentlessly, threatening to rip both them and the masts they were attached to away from the Reprise and out into the darkness of the sea. Then the sails filled and the frigate lurched forward, bounding uncontrollably through the waves. Taking a deep breath, Tyranny knew it was time. Removing her sword from its scabbard, she held it high and then brought it down with all her strength against the rope binding the ship's wheel.
Finally free, the wheel spun madly, its spokes a blur as the ship's rudder struggled to find its equilibrium in the raging currents. As the wheel settled down, Tyranny motioned for Shailiha to come and join her. They each took hold of it. Tyranny looked up at the straining sails and back at Shailiha.
"Now!" the privateer shouted. "And with everything you have!" Straining against the wheel, the two women began to turn it with all their might.
With an agonizing groan, the Reprise did her best to heel over toward the port side. As she started to come about, Tyranny and Shailiha turned the wheel over even harder, and the great ship screamed as though she were about to come apart.
Knowing there was nothing else she could do, Shailiha closed her eyes. She thought of Tristan and Morganna. Then the great ship lurched, and another of the masts came tumbling down.
CHAPTER XXXI
Eyes closed, Faegan smoothly stroked the strings of his centuries-old violin. As the sorrowful melody rose into the air, he focused on the many problems plaguing his nation. He had been playing and thinking for more than an hour now, yet no concrete answers had come to him. Too many pieces of the puzzle were still missing.
He suddenly sensed an extra weight upon the scroll of his violin, and felt an unexpected breeze caress his face. With a short smile he stopped playing and lowered his bow. He opened his eyes.
Caprice, Shailiha's yellow and violet flier of the fields, perched upon his violin as if to tell him not to worry, that everything would be all right. The wizard found such a thought to be a very tempting luxury. But then his mind started to work again and he sighed sadly.
"You're lonely for your mistress, aren't you?" he asked. Caprice slowly opened and closed her wings one time: Yes.
He smiled. Although Shailiha and Caprice were oftentimes inseparable, the princess had chosen to leave the flier behind when she left on her mission with Tyranny.
"I know," Faegan said. "I miss her, too."
The wizard sat on the balcony overlooking the aviary of the fliers of the fields. This was perhaps his favorite place in the world. He often came here to be alone and to think. Located in the depths of the Redoubt, the aviary was more than three stories high and filled with soaring fliers of all the colors of the rainbow. Oil sconces on the light-blue marble walls gave the chamber a soft, welcoming feel.
Faegan gave the violin a gentle shake, and Caprice launched herself into the air to rejoin her fellows. As she went, Faegan's sadness returned.
He hadn't come here to punish himself, although that was what sitting here alone had come to feel like.
He was worried for all of those who were now so far afield. Geldon's note, which had arrived the previous night, had done nothing to assuage his fears about the rampaging orb. He feared for Wigg, Tristan, and Celeste, as they probed the depths of the Recluse. But he was most concerned about the welfare of Shailiha and Tyranny, and all of the other brave souls aboard the Reprise.
He knew that the theory behind transporting something so large was basically sound. He was also reasonably sure that his calculations for the ship's destination in the Sea of Whispers were accurate-at least to within a league or so. But when the portal had swallowed up the ship, his blood had run cold.
He had never known the vortex to make any sound whatsoever, much less the terrible screeching noise he had heard that day. He had come to the conclusion that this had been because of the portal's unusual size, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it for the time being. But still he worried. Sending the ship through a portal had been his idea.
On top of all those concerns, something even worse gnawed at his conscience and his sense of personal honor.
Because he had broken under Wulfgar's torture, the Scroll of the Vigors had become damaged. And as long as Wulfgar-who, he was sure, still lived-possessed the Scroll of the Vagaries, their trials and tribulations might never end.