Scars came running. His eyes were eager, predatory.
"The crow's nest has sighted her!" he said. "She's north-northwest of us, about a half hour away. You should just be able to see her running lamps through your glass." Smiling, he handed her the telescope.
Raising the spyglass to her eye, Tyranny scoured the sea. At first she could find nothing. Then she caught a pinprick of light. She carefully twisted the cylinders of the glass. What she saw did not disappoint her.
The light from the enemy vessel's running lamps burned brightly enough to tell the privateer that she was looking at a frigate, the same vessel type used by the demonslavers. She appeared to be at full sail. Even though the ship was still too far away to tell whether demonslavers were aboard, as far as Tyranny was concerned, K'jarr's word was enough. Her jaw set, she lowered the glass and looked back at Scars.
"I want the fleet to fan out in a straight line, with the Reprise in the center," she ordered. "Leave just enough space between vessels for some maneuvering room, should I decide to change my attack plans. When we approach, at my order we will surround her. No other action is to be taken until I give the word for her to be boarded. As the flagship, we shall have the honor of drawing first blood. But not until we have found and secured her captain, and squeezed some answers from him. I want to know why he sails toward Eutracia without escort."
She paused as she considered her next words. "Then we will kill them all," she added.
While Scars hurried off to relay her orders, Tyranny looked back over the sea. The running lamps of the other ship slowly became visible without the aid of the spyglass. The wind rustled through her wayward hair, and a grim, determined smile came to the privateer's lips. Her eyes still trained upon her quarry, Tyranny reached down and drew her short sword from its scabbard. Satine watched bratach gaze out over the sea. he had been doing this nonstop for the last two days, and she knew that the only reason he hadn't collapsed from exhaustion was his mastery of the craft. While he searched, the consul's hawklike face moved slowly from side to side within the hood of his dark blue robe. The westerlies were brisk, the crimson-colored sea restless as their ship made her way toward the Cavalon Delta.
So far, the voyage had been without incident. Yet as Satine approached the consul, she knew something was afoot. She had been awakened by one of the demonslavers and told that Bratach wished to see her topside right away. Pulling her gray cloak around her, she shook off her sleepiness and closed out the cold wind.
"What is it?" she asked.
At first Bratach remained silent. Then he turned toward her. He did not seem alarmed.
"We have company," he said. "I have been expecting as much for the last several days. There are a dozen frigates of the monarchy out there, coming toward us. They fly the lion and the broadsword, the battle flag of the House of Galland. They have formed an attack line, and they will soon be upon us. They sail with their running lamps extinguished." He turned his dark eyes back to the sea.
"You cannot see them yet, but I can," he added. "They mean to take us."
Satine stiffened. Twelve to one were not odds she was willing to bargain with.
"We have to run," she insisted. "We can never defeat so many, even with you aboard."
"I have no intention of trying to defeat them," Bratach responded.
"Nor will we run from them. I intend to lure them in, and then go straight through their line. Besides, this is too valuable an opportunity to let pass. Much could be learned from such an experience."
Satine's eyes went wide. "Are you mad?" she nearly shouted at him.
"Watch and learn," the consul said. "Do not be alarmed by what is about to happen. Whatever you do, do not cry out. If we are to succeed, silence will be paramount. All of my demonslavers have been given the same orders."
No sooner had the consul uttered the words than Satine began to feel a tingling throughout her body. It was not unpleasant, and it provided a welcome warmth.
Then, both she and everything around her disappeared.
She looked around in terror. Staring down, all she could see were the waves as they passed by, several dozen meters below. At first she expected to fall into the water, but she did not. She stood firmly upon nothing, and she could see nothing except the three moons and the ocean they highlighted. Still, she knew she was moving with the ship by the way the deck beneath her continued to sway. It was a liberating feeling, and she wondered if this was what flying was like.
Reaching down the sides of her body, she was grateful to find that she still had substance, even though she couldn't see herself. Then she looked aft, and noticed that even the ship's wake had disappeared.
She turned to where she hoped Bratach still stood.
"I understand," she whispered. "It's marvelous."
Satine held her breath as the line of enemy frigates approached across their port bow. Dark and spectral, the looming hulls rose up out of the sea like those of ghost ships. She felt her ship tack and head straight for the center of the enemy line. But would there be enough room to pass through?
Brave as she was, she couldn't help but cringe as they neared the line of enemy ships. Reaching out, she took hold of the invisible gunwale. Her breath caught in her lungs.
They were so close that she could see the crewmen aboard the oncoming vessels. They seemed to be in great disarray, and there was much shouting. A woman stood upon the bow of what Satine assumed to be the flagship. She seemed angry beyond words as she shouted out her orders. Gripping the gunwale railing even harder, Satine knew that the next few seconds would surely determine their fate.
The enemy vessels slid by on either side, and their lone frigate slipped between the two closest ships. Satine gasped. They were so near that she could actually make out the faces of the enemy crewmen. One of them in particular stood out: a great hulking bear of a man, face, arms, and bare chest covered with scars.
Then they were past the enemy fleet and leaving it behind. Despite her distrust of the craft, this was the most awe-inspiring thing Satine had ever witnessed. Looking aft again, she saw that the distance between them and the fleet was growing quickly. There was little chance of the enemy finding them again. While she stood collecting her thoughts, she sensed that Bratach had returned to her side.
"Amazing," she said. "And very well done. But why did you risk running us so close? Wouldn't it have been safer to have outflanked them, rather than slip through their line that way?"
When Bratach finally spoke, his voice seemed to come from nothing.
"I wanted to see who was captaining the fleet, and I was not disappointed," he answered. "Tell me, did you recognize her?"
Satine realized that she did. The woman commanding the enemy fleet was one of those pictured in the parchments Wulfgar had given her that morning at the Citadel.
"I understand," she said. "Who is she?"
"Her name is Tyranny, and she is now the prince's personal privateer," Bratach answered. "My spies tell me that she is very capable. It is also rumored that she is unusually fond of the prince, a bit of information you might find useful, I should think."
Smiling to herself, Satine looked down at the waves passing beneath her feet. Being in the employ of a wizard might have its advantages after all.
She could feel the warmth of the rising sun on the small of her back. Then she felt their ship tack again, resuming their course for the delta.
As a precaution, Bratach kept their ship invisible all of the remaining way to the coast.
CHAPTER VIII
"You must eat something!" shawna the short exclaimed at the two worried women sitting before her.
The huge breakfast tray that Shawna had prepared sat on the meeting table before them, untouched by Shailiha and Celeste. Morganna, Shailiha's toddler, lay sleeping in her stroller by the princess' side, while Caprice sat perched on the top of the princess' high-backed chair. Shawna loved these two women, and in recent days the princess had come to rely upon the gnome wife heavily-especially as a trusted nanny for Morganna.