Thirst and heat, Agis knew, could thicken a man’s blood until he lost consciousness, but the noble did not think that was Tithian’s problem. If that had been the case, the king’s skin would have been flushed and clammy, instead of sun-blistered and peeling. It seemed more likely he had suffered a concussion from the blow that had bent his crown and split his scalp open.
Agis pulled a tangle of blood-matted hair away from the crown and gently tried to remove the diadem. The circlet moved only a fraction of an inch before the dented section snagged on the edge of the king’s wound. A distressed groan escaped Tithian’s lips, and he instinctively tried to pull his head away from the noble’s grasp. Encouraged by this development, Agis slipped a finger under the bent diadem and began to pry it off.
A gaunt hand flashed up from the king’s side, seizing the noble’s wrist. “Don’t touch my crown!” croaked Tithian, his broken fingernails digging into Agis’s flesh. Although his eyes had opened, they remained glazed and unfocused.
Agis released the diadem. “I think you’d return from the dead to keep this paltry circlet on your head.”
Tithian released the noble’s arm, struggling to focus his eyes on Agis’s face. “You!” he gasped weakly. “Traitor!”
Agis dumped a stream of water into Tithian’s mouth. “I’m not the traitor here.”
The king choked, then managed to swallow. “You cost me a fleet!” he sputtered, his thick-tongued voice barely more than a whisper.
As Tithian struggled to push himself upright, his eyes rolled back in their sockets, and he groaned in pain. He raised his fingers to his smashed diadem, then asked, “How did you make that fool Fylo betray me? I know you didn’t use the Way, because I tried that myself.”
“Fylo’s wise enough to know the truth when he sees it,” Agis replied, handing the waterskin to Tithian. “Now drink. It would be better if you’re still alive when I return you to Tyr.”
Tithian accepted the skin and raised it to his lips. After he had taken a half-dozen gulps, he said, “I’ve no wish to return to Tyr at the moment.”
“That’s not your choice,” replied Agis, laying a hand on his sword’s hilt. “I’m taking you back to the city.”
At the same time, the noble opened the internal pathway to his spiritual energy, preparing to defend himself with the Way. His palace spies had been keeping him informed of Tithian’s progress as both a mindbender and a sorcerer, and the noble knew the king would be a formidable opponent if it came to a fight.
Tithian shrugged. “I thought you’d be glad to be rid of me for a while,” he said. “But if you insist on taking me back, so be it. I’ll go.”
Agis narrowed his eyes. “Don’t think that your false promises will work on me,” he warned.
Tithian shook his head wearily. “We know each other too well for that,” he said. “I’m hurt and exhausted. I couldn’t resist if I wanted to.” He lifted the waterskin to his lips and drank deeply, then tied the mouth closed and handed it to the noble. “You’ll have to carry this, my friend.”
Agis slung the skin over his shoulder, then cautiously crawled toward the plank, motioning for the king to follow. Although the noble half expected an attack, Tithian caused no trouble. He followed close behind, breathing in labored, shallow gasps. As they moved, the bow slowly rocked toward the aft, tipping more steeply the nearer they came to their goal.
When they finally reached the plank, Agis waved the king ahead. “I’ll steady it,” he said, grabbing the end of the gangway. “You go on.”
“It’s nice to see you’re finally showing your king the proper respect,” Tithian joked, crawling onto the gangway.
“Concentrate on what you’re doing,” the noble ordered, his voice sour. “I want you alive.”
“How considerate,” Tithian replied, slowly pulling himself onto the plank.
As the king passed, Agis noticed the shadow of a mocking smile upon his lips. “Don’t even think of trying to betray me,” said the noble, lifting his chin toward Kester. “I’m paying that tarek well, and there’s not so much as a king’s bit in your satchel.”
Tithian paused to look back, an expression of feigned indignity on his face. “Am I really so predictable?”
“Be quiet and get on with yer crawling!” called Kester. “That derelict’ll soon be under the silt.”
Tithian finished crossing to the Shadow Viper, where Kester seized him and unceremoniously pulled him over the rail. Once the king stood safely on deck, the noble wasted no time crawling onto the gangway. He had gone no more than two yards when a deep rumble sounded from within the bow.
On the Shadow Viper’s deck, Tithian closed his eyes in concentration.
Agis had just enough time to curse the king before the gangway trembled violently. A terrible cacophony of creaks and groans sounded from the wreck, then the derelict’s bowsprit rose skyward and its aft end sank, sending a great plume of dust into the sky. The plank slipped and fell free, then Agis felt himself following it into the gray sea. He tried to scream, but managed no more than a strangled gasp as the mordant taste of silt filled his mouth.
Agis snapped to a stop less than a yard above the gray sea, his legs dangling in silt and his nose burning with hot loess. It almost felt as though someone had caught him with a safety line, though he knew that could not be. Nymos and Kester began calling his name, then the noble felt himself slowly rising through the gray cloud. The only explanation he could think of was that the blind sorcerer had used a spell to catch him.
As Agis rose through the roiling cloud of dust, he prepared a mental attack, determined to prevent Tithian from launching another assault on him. By the time he finished, the Shadow Viper’s hull was visible through the haze. He could barely make out the forms of the tarek captain and the others standing at the edge of the deck. Tithian was staring at him with a look of intense concentration, while Kester was grasping the gunnel and peering at him through the dust. Nymos stood at the tarek’s hip, his ear slit cocked toward Agis.
“Stop him!” the noble croaked, pointing at Tithian. He could barely choke the words out through all the silt clogging his throat.
Neither the tarek nor the wizard moved toward the king, so Agis drew his sword. As soon as he came near enough to the ship, he reached for the gunnel and pulled himself onto the deck. Kester intercepted him at the rail, blocking his way and grabbing his sword arm.
“It was Tithian that saved ye, so ye won’t be killin’ him on my ship,” said the tarek. “It’d bring an angry wind upon us.”
Scowling, Agis pulled his arm free and stepped around the tarek to see that Tithian had sunk to his knees. He was gasping for breath, while a pair of slaves supported his arms to keep him from collapsing altogether. His face looked even more haggard than when Agis had found him.
The noble sheathed his sword and stepped to the king’s side. “What’s your plan?” he demanded. “Why did you save me?”
“You could have let me die on the wreck,” Tithian whispered, peering up at Agis. “Now we’re even.”
The noble shook his head. “You’re not the kind who repays his debts.”
Tithian accepted the frank appraisal with an impassive face. “There are exceptions, you know.”
“Not likely,” Agis snapped. “You wouldn’t have saved me unless it served your purposes. Are you going to tell me what they are?”
“I have,” the king replied.
“As you wish, then,” the noble said. He grabbed a piece of giant hair rope off a stanchion cleat, then stepped behind Tithian and began tying his hands. “In the name of the Council of Advisors, I charge you with the high crime of slave-taking. You’re to accompany me back to Tyr, where you’ll answer for your misconduct before the Court of Free Citizens.”
Tithian jerked his hands free and struggled to his feet. “What’s this?” he demanded. He glanced at Kester and Nymos to make sure they were listening, then asked, “Has your jealousy grown so much that now you can appease it only by fabricating council charges against me?”