“Did you?” Her voice was full of ugly suspicion again.
“Yes, of course. What do you mean?”
She didn’t answer for a time. Finally she turned away and said, almost casually, “Remint told us that you had sold us… and then tried to buy your safety by telling Corean where we were.”
“Oh, no. No.”
“Did he lie?”
“Yes.” Ruiz shook his head wearily; small wonder she seemed distrustful and cold. “I had nothing to do with your capture; it was just bad luck.”
“Really?” Her voice had a sudden lightness.
“Really. If I’d betrayed you to Corean, why would I have returned for you?”
“I couldn’t understand that,” she said. “But I’ve seen so many things I couldn’t understand, since I left Pharaoh.”
He smiled. After a moment she smiled, too, and though it was a small uneasy smile, he felt better than he had in many days. A particularly violent roll threw her against his shoulder. She didn’t immediately pull away, and for a time he was able to enjoy the warmth where they touched.
“So,” she said. “What did happen to you, after you left us?”
“It’s a long story.”
She glanced about the dark livestock stall. “I suppose I could spare a few minutes.”
“Well, then…” He told her about asking help from Publius the monster maker, who had betrayed Ruiz at every opportunity, who had plotted to reign over SeaStack, who had been mortally wounded by Remint the slayer… Publius, who had died on the third day of the voyage.
The price of Publius’s help had been an assault on the fortress of Alonzo Yubere, who controlled an enclave of Gencha minddivers.
Ruiz told her of returning to the pen where he had left her and the others — and finding them gone.
Her eyes grew a little softer.
“I learned that Remint had taken you. He set a trap for me at a fabularium,” he said. “He caught me, too. Effortlessly. But for blind luck, I’d still be entertaining Corean.”
“But you got away.”
“Yes. I followed Remint back to Publius’s laboratories, and ambushed him when he was wounded and off his guard. He almost killed me anyway… the man wasn’t human. Any other time, he’d have bested me easily.” Ruiz shivered. Remembering the slayer, his present situation seemed less threatening.
“And then?”
“I forced Publius to keep his bargain, which was to provide us this escape from SeaStack. Something was going on in the city, something that had the pirate Lords in a frenzy… and this barge was the only way out.”
He fell silent, remembering the events of the past several weeks. He couldn’t shake off a feeling that his life had passed beyond his control, running faster and faster down invisible rails.
“A lot happened, didn’t it?” Nisa said, finally, and he could hear that she wasn’t entirely convinced. But at least she was speaking to him, which seemed a vast improvement.
He might have attempted further conversation, but just then Molnekh and Dolmaero returned, soaking wet. Dolmaero’s normally ruddy face was gray, and his lips had a bluish cast. He leaned heavily on Molnekh, and collapsed on his pallet, breathing with apparent difficulty.
Ruiz knelt beside him and loosened the lacings of his robe. Dolmaero looked up at him, eyes dull with misery. “I suppose I’ll die soon, Ruiz Aw. Though at the moment, I’m more afraid of the possibility that I will continue to live.”
Ruiz was very worried about the Guildmaster, but he made himself smile; “That’s the common reaction to seasickness, but it’s rarely a fatal condition.”
“Oh, no,” said Dolmaero faintly, and closed his eyes.
Ruiz covered the Guildmaster with bedding he had collected over the past few days from Immolators who had prematurely consummated their rites. “Rest for a while,” he said. “You’ll feel better for it.”
Thereafter everyone was quiet. The Loracca rolled and plunged, and the wind rose to such a pitch that it almost drowned out the screams of the Immolators.
Corean Heiclaro, late of the Blacktear Pens and once a rich slaver, hid in a dank steel room deep under the surface waters of SeaStack. She stared moodily into a broken piece of mirror, pushing back sweaty tendrils of dark hair. She barely recognized her expensive face; her beauty had suffered during the days she had spent hiding from the pirate Lords, who in their self-destructive hysteria had turned SeaStack into a battlefield.
Blood enriched the canals and lagoons, and the predatory margars were growing fat on the bodies that fell from the heights above.
At least she was alive. And she could take comfort in her fantasies — all of which involved Ruiz Aw and a versatile cast of sharp things, of red-hot things, of barbed things.
At the moment she was alone but for her Mocrassar bondwarrior. The huge insectoid stood silent and still in the farthest corner of her refuge, awaiting her instructions. The Moc was her greatest remaining asset, until such time as she could return safely to the Blacktear Pens. As long as it obeyed her, she was reasonably safe.
Her other asset, an ancient cyborged pirate named Marmo, was away. With any luck, he had posted a query for the Pharaohan slaves Ruiz Aw had stolen from her. The query would go out over the datastream to all the slave markets of Sook.
Sooner or later, Ruiz would sell them. Then she would find him. Then she could begin balancing their accounts.
Time drained away sluggishly, but finally Marmo returned.
“So?” she said impatiently.
He settled into the driest corner of the room, his chassis dull with a fine patina of brown corrosion. “I found a live datalink, though I was almost ambushed there by a gang of starving terrace farmers…. Anyway, your order is in the datastream, for good or ill.” His voice was devoid of resentment, but Corean knew him well.
“It’s for the good,” she said firmly — though in the deepest part of her mind, doubts bred. “I’ll find him eventually.”
Marmo made his voice even colder. “And then what? What will you buy him with? How will you fetch him?”
She opened her mouth to speak an angry impotent curse, but then, as if from the damp musty air, an idea came to her.
“Good questions,” she said, smiling brightly.
Marmo seemed to shrink, becoming a lump of worn metal and ancient flesh. “I will not like this, will I?” he asked, in another voice, almost a whisper.
Just before midnight, Ruiz woke from a light doze. Something had changed. After a moment’s confusion, he realized that he could no longer feel the Loracca’s engines through the alloy deck of the stall.
The motion had altered into a slow long roll, reaching a dangerous degree of heel at the end of each roll.
The others were awake, though Dolmaero looked little better than he had before.
Molnekh ventured to speak. “I know nothing about boats, Ruiz, but should this be happening?”
“Probably not,” said Ruiz. “But there’s nothing we can do.” He reflected that the Loracca carried only two lifeboats, just enough for the crew; perhaps he should look into the situation. He rose wearily, holding on to the stall’s divider. “Wait here; I’ll have another look. But be ready to come running, if it starts to look bad.”
He made his way down to the main deck and clung to a companionway railing on the lee side. The barge was lying broadside to the waves, rolling her scuppers under as the swell passed beneath her. Each time green water roared over the bulwark, a number of Immolators were washed away. Their white robes were indistinguishable from the welter of foam that streaked the toppling faces of the waves.
Ruiz judged that the old barge was coming apart. Ominous grinding sounds came up through a nearby ventilator shaft, and the deck plating was starting to buckle. It seemed only a matter of time before she broke her back.