She regarded the divers with a scowl as they roused themselves, curious about her attention. She asked, “If Serrimundi were under attack from an enemy force, would you lift a hand to defend it? Or are you as worthless as the other wishpearl divers I’ve met?”
Angrily, the four shirtless men climbed to their feet and sneered at her. One man said, “I might lift a finger if you came to my bed.”
“Then I might lift a finger to crush all of your bones into little pieces,” she said. “Mark my words, the threat is coming, an army that could destroy this city.”
“What army?” asked one of the other divers. “We’ve heard of no army.”
“I am telling you so you can prepare, if you know how to fight.”
“We know how to swim,” said one of the divers, chuckling.
None of them took her seriously. She showed them Elsa’s image on the glass, which they found interesting, but unconvincing. “That is an army in the mountains. We have no mountains here.”
“Armies can cross mountains,” Nicci said. “They are on the move.”
“If they are far away, then I’m not worried yet,” said one diver.
“I don’t even believe there is an army,” said another, squinting closer at the preserved pane. “It’s just a trick. There is magic in that glass. She could be showing us anything.”
“Heh, I know something I’d like her to show me,” said the lecherous diver.
Nicci was of a mind to burst his testicles right there, which would certainly gain his attention, but she hadn’t expected to earn any support from wishpearl divers in the first place, and they didn’t disappoint her. After a long day she had hoped to rouse the people of Serrimundi, though she knew it would be a more difficult task than convincing General Linden and the D’Haran garrison. These people did not know her. Not yet.
As the wishpearl divers laughed, mocking her story about the great army, she heard shouts raised across the harbor. A lookout on the Mist Maiden’s tall mast was casting dried bread to screaming gulls, but he suddenly dropped his basket and began hollering at the top of his lungs. Around the harbor, other ships picked up the alarm. Loud ship’s bells rang.
Beyond the rocky promontory at the mouth of the harbor, Nicci saw smoke in the sky. A ship was sailing into the harbor, engulfed in flames. It bobbed and yawed without guidance, its sails ablaze, a krakener riding low in the water. She saw several sailors dive overboard. Two of them were caught in the current and swept up against the outcropping beneath the carving of the Sea Mother. The burning ship continued to drift into the crowded harbor.
“Ship on fire, ship on fire!” The outcries spread among the vessels. The krakener listed to one side as the flames grew more intense. Harbor workers scrambled about, afraid that the fire would spread to other vessels. Several fishing boats rapidly set sail away from the docks to get clear. The krakener took on water as it began to sink near the mouth of the harbor.
Nicci shaded her eyes, wondering what could have set the ship ablaze. It was like a warning torch thrown at the city of Serrimundi. Soon enough, she had her answer. They all did.
With midnight-blue sails fully stretched and line after line of oars extended, a Norukai serpent ship cruised around the promontory, coming in from the sea and entering Serrimundi Harbor, following the krakener they had set ablaze.
Behind the first Norukai serpent ship came another, and another, a line of ten raiders. Frantic shouts roared among the dockworkers, and the harbor bells clanged. Nicci had never seen so many Norukai ships, and they were coming to invade Serrimundi.
This was not the army she had warned them about, but it was a threat just as deadly.
CHAPTER 73
The mists on the wide river did not obscure the cold, miserable morning. Rain fell gently on the decks of the Norukai ships, and King Grieve stood in the open in his sharkskin vest, his massive bare arms slick from the rain. He stared ahead as if he could penetrate the fog with the power of his gaze, but he saw only the gray shadows of tangled trees on the nearer shore.
The treacherous swamps had gone on for miles as the Norukai fleet sailed upriver. The opposite shore was lost in the gloom and rain. In places, the Killraven River was so wide it seemed like the sea. Grieve didn’t like close banks and narrow shores, which made him feel confined.
Water lapped against the hull of his serpent ship, and the dark sails stretched, pushed along by the directed breeze. Grieve wanted to increase their pace, so Norukai crewmen extended their oars and drove the fleet onward, like a slow sword thrust against the current.
The fog muffled all sound. Drummers on each foredeck pounded out a steady rowing beat as the ominous vessels moved along. The rhythmic pounding would strike fear into any weak villagers huddled on the banks watching the ships pass.
A large trout leaped up, startled by the passage of such immense vessels. Chalk pranced over, gripping the rail and lurching himself up on spindly arms. He peered over the edge, squirming, watching the ripples in the brown current. Grieve grabbed his bony shoulder and pulled him back so he wouldn’t fall overboard.
“A fish, my Grieve, King Grieve! A king fish!” He grinned with lopsided lips on his pocked face. “Ildakar is a fish. We will catch it and gut it, and roast it over a fire.”
“Yes, we will catch it and gut it,” Grieve said, “but we can’t destroy it, because it is mine. It will be the capital of my new empire.”
“They’ll all grieve!” Chalk looked over the railing again, searching for more fish.
Another trout leaped, and the pale shaman grinned, but a different form cruised through the water, unseen. A swamp dragon lunged, and its jaws snatched the trout. Holding the fish in its teeth, the reptile submerged and swam away with barely a ripple.
The drumbeats continued, the long oars stroked, and the Norukai ships moved up the river.
Mounted on a spike at the prow was the hideous head of the selka. The slimy creature had sagged, the rubbery skin falling slack along its cheekbones and jaws. The yellow eyes had turned to jelly, and the crew had repeatedly chased away ravens that tried to peck at the delicacy. The sea creatures would not bother them now that the Norukai ships were far up the Killraven River.
Out in the ocean, the angry selka had followed the fleet, threatening, but unable to attack. The Norukai raiders had jeered and taunted them, throwing harpoons on ropes, trying to stab the outlying creatures, but missed. The selka followed them all the way to the estuary, raising their ugly heads above the water, hissing unintelligible curses. The Norukai responded by emptying the foul-smelling bilges into the water behind the ships.
The rain had started on their third day moving upriver. The Norukai ships sailed past villages on the banks, small fishing and trading towns. Previously, Norukai slavers might stop and raid the weaker villages just to replace any walking meat that died during the voyage.
This time, the fifty serpent ships were on a military conquest, not a mere raid, but Grieve’s fighters were restless. He allowed a few vessels to pull ashore and let the fighters slosh to the banks, where they could kill townspeople, set homes on fire, rape women, and leave a mark of terror. If King Grieve was going to wrap the entire continent in his iron fist, he needed the people to fear him. But he wanted to get to Ildakar.
Shivering, Chalk wrapped his scrawny arms around his bony chest. “Fire. I wish we had fire. So cold.”
“I gave you a blanket,” Grieve said. “Wrap yourself in it.”