Krodrus's face clouded. «Stipors is speaking of trying the Conciliators for treason. If matters come to a trial, I am sure they will be convicted, and if convicted, they will die. If you can return in time-«He let the sentence die unfinished.
It was a hot airless summer dawn, with a low heat haze over the glassy sea. The scout boat Sea Fox drifted aimlessly, her sails flapping monotonously against her mast.
Gershon saluted as Blade came up from the tiny captain's cabin aft. «Mornin', sir. Put the men to the sweeps?»
Blade shook his head. «Not much sense in that. We'd have everybody worn out inside of two hours.»
«I know, sir. But supposin' the Fishmen were about-?»
«All the more reason for keeping everybody fresh. We've got little enough chance if they attack as it is.»
Gershon saluted again and went forward. Blade leaned against the railing, hands clasped behind his back, and looked up. The white-painted mast and yard showed clearly from the deck. That was the identifying sign he had agreed on with Alanyra. And here they were, within two miles of the rendezvous. Damn that haze! If Alanyra's little company couldn't find Fox before some other less friendly group of Sea Master raiders did- Blade swung himself into the rigging and hauled himself hand over hand up to the crow's nest. He might not be able to see much better up there. But at least he wouldn't be able to pace up and down the deck until someone asked him what he was so worried about!
An hour passed, then another. Sea Fox rocked gently to the swell. Small sounds floated up from her deck-voices, a bucket dropped with a clatter, the banging of the pump as it worked to keep the bilge dry. Not much needed for that-Fox was a tight, well-found little ship. Also, appropriately named for the mission she was on, thought Blade. He looked down again and realized that the sun was beginning to burn off some of the haze.
Then a shout from the stern made him spin around. A hundred yards dead astern the head of a yulon broke the water. Blade stared. It was a tame one. He could see the harness. But did that mean-?
Gershon was already beating the signal drum for battle call, and the crew was dashing about, snatching up their weapons. Blade flung himself into the rigging and scrambled monkeylike back down to the deck. As he reached it, the head of the yulon sank slowly out of sight. No sign of any of the Sea Masters with it.
Gershon was cursing under his breath as Blade came up to him. «We should never ha' come with such a small crew, Cap'n. Now we're all in trouble.»
«Perhaps,» said Blade. «It depends on how many of them there are.» And also on who they are, he added silently.
Howls of fear rose from Fox's deck a moment later, as the head of the yulon rose from the water again almost alongside. But another head rose beside it, high-cheeked, elfin, green-haired, with a broad smile on the full lips, and red jewels glittering in the green hair. Blade waved a hand in greeting-then struck Gershon's crossbow to the deck as the mate raised it to fire at Alanyra.
Gershon let out an oath and drew his dagger. Blade stepped back until he had the railing and the sea behind him, then dropped into fighting stance. «Hold, Gershon! If you have any faith in me, let me speak. And make the rest of the crew let me speak too. Otherwise we shall all die, and so will many others-all for nothing.»
Gershon's eyes narrowed sullenly, but he growled agreement. One of the other sailors sprang forward, knife raised. As he did, Gershon spun around and drove an enormous, sun-browned fist into the man's stomach, then chopped down with the other hand on his right wrist. The man folded in the middle, sat down on the deck, and tried to ease his tingling wrist and throw up his breakfast at the same time.
Blade was relieved. For the moment at least Gershon's loyalty held. He began to speak, in a low, firm, urgent voice. He left out nothing except his relations with Alanyra, nothing at all that was needed to explain the situation to the crew.
He could not be sure for a long time that they were listening to him, still less believing him. To have the idea of friendship with the Fishmen sprung on them this way would have stunned better minds than those of the sailors'.
But eventually Gershon sheathed his dagger. His brown face split in a rueful grin. He shook his lead, so that his pigtail swung from side to side. «Well, may the Goddess strike me dead if I foreswear my friendship with ye, Cap'n Blade. I make no promises to like this new friendship, mind ye. But the Fishmen'll have naught to fear from me or any man aboard Fox, long as we've naught to fear from them.»
Blade nodded and smiled. «Fair enough.» It was as much as he could hope for at the moment. But it was also enough.
Chapter FOURTEEN
The towers of Mestron, the capital and chief port of the Empire of Nurn, rose black against the sunset. Blade and Alanyra leaned against the railing of Fox's crow's nest. They watched the setting sun trail orange across the waters of the bay and gild the sails of the coastal shipping sliding in and out of the harbor. The wind had dropped, and Fox once again rocked gently on the waves.
From below, the voices of both Talgarans and Sea Masters rose into the evening air. The Sea Masters were almost submerged, hanging onto lines trailing over Fox's side. They seldom came aboard, but that was more to keep their presence a secret than out of fear of Blade's crew.
The week's voyage from Talgar had done one thing at least. It had taught each people that the other was not necessarily a monster lusting for blood and destruction. Hearing each other call many sea creatures by the same names and swear by the same Goddess had been a new, almost frightening experience for both sides. But slowly they had recovered. Now they still could not exactly be called friends. But they could be called a crew that Blade would trust to do anything he asked of them. That was a good enough start for the mission.
Alanyra turned to Blade. The red sunset light gave her skin a weird pinkish tinge. «Are you waiting for a pilot to take you in?»
«No. We're not going into Mestron, at least not aboard Fox. There's a smaller port to the north of Mestron that Gershon knows like he knows this ship's deck. That's where Fox and the yulon will be staying. There'd be too many prying eyes and wagging tongues around us in Mestron. In Clintrod there won't be so many questions asked, or so many soldiers around to fight if we can't give the right answer.»
«I see. But you will be in Mestron, Blade. You will be in danger all the time, and the rest of us only part of the time. Is that fair?»
Blade shrugged. There was really no better answer to that question.
A big pleasure galley raced past, oars scarring the darkening water with silver foam. On her single, green, triangular sail was a black bull's head.
«Some nobleman's private yacht,» said Blade. Then he leaned over the railing and shouted down to the deck. «Ahoy, Gershon! Set a course for Clintrod.»
«Aye, aye, sir.»
Blade's plan was simple, like any good espionage operation. Complicated schemes in that business had a way of going wrong in the worst way at the worst possible moment. The only thing complicated about Blade's plan was its use of eight Sea Masters and their trained yulon. But that was also something nobody in Nurn would believe even if they saw it. So nobody would be looking for it. Blade hoped things would stay that way until he had finished his work.
That work went slowly at first, slowly enough to have given Blade a few sleepless nights if he had been the type to lie awake worrying. He wasn't. He was painfully aware that the more time passed, the greater his chances of returning to Talgar and finding Svera's head nailed on the Traitors' Beam by the dockyard entrance.