Robert Redick - The Rats and the Ruling sea

'We'll get the book,' said Pazel, his voice low and earnest. 'We'll take it from him, before he finds out how to use the Stone.'

Oggosk's eyes widened, amusement and contempt struggling for control of her features. ' You'll get the book? The mighty Ormali and his suicidal friend? That's a capital idea. Knock on his door and ask to borrow it for the evening. No, monkey, I didn't call you here for that. I want something altogether simpler.'

'And what might that be?'

'I want you to stop caring for Thasha Isiq.'

This time Pazel gave the old woman just the right sort of look: baffled and offended, but with nothing to hide.

'I am not being spiteful,' said Oggosk. 'This is a grave matter, as important in every way as Arunis and his Polylex. Indeed the two issues are one and the same.'

'We're not handing over her body, if that's what you-'

'Thasha is alive and restless in her stateroom,' said the witch with finality. 'And you'll do exactly as I say. Dine with her, conspire with her, let her and the Tholjassan teach you to handle a sword. Flirt with her, if you like. I know better than to expect young men to do otherwise, even when to do so is to risk everything. Glah, that's a permanent flaw in humanity, and there's no cure under Heaven's Tree.

'But let your kisses be cold ones, boy. Do not love her. Do not let her love you. Enjoy yourself, but if she looks at you with tenderness you must laugh in her face, or walk away, or show her some other form of contempt. Do you understand me?'

'I understand you to be out of your nasty mind.'

'We should have brought other girls aboard,' said Oggosk, vexed. 'Girls your age, I mean. There are a number of women in steerage, however, and some have a look of experience about them. One or two are even attractive.'

'Goodbye,' Pazel sang out, for that was all he could do short of cursing her aloud. He made quickly for the door. He was appalled; he felt as though she had torn open a secret part of him and defiled it.

Oggosk's voice froze him in mid-stride. 'This is the only warning you will receive. Where Thasha is concerned I shall not be in the least forgiving. If that girl begins to love you I will send Sniraga into the Chathrand 's depths, and have her bring back an ixchel body to lay at Rose's feet. When he learns of the infestation he will slay the whole clan in a matter of hours — and believe me, the captain knows how it is done.'

Pazel spoke over his shoulder. 'You'd kill them all, just to punish me.'

'I would,' said Oggosk. 'I do not shrink from the obligations of history. But they need not die. You may advise them to disembark at our next landfall — provided you do as I say with Thasha. Give her no reason to love you, and your ixchel friends may survive to raid another ship.'

'As if anyone would trust you to keep a bargain like that,' said Pazel.

'You have no choice but to trust me,' said Oggosk simply. 'But listen: why not tell Thasha about the murth-girl? Say that you're still fond of her, that she fascinates you, haunts your dreams. You wouldn't even be lying, would you? But never let Thasha set a finger on you here!' — Lady Oggosk indicated her collarbone — 'Rin save you if you break the heart of a murth.'

He was dreaming. Not even Oggosk could be so senselessly cruel. But when she spoke again her voice was in deadly earnest.

'Removing the admiral from the scene was no pleasure,' she said. 'Don't share his fate, Mr Pathkendle. What Thasha is to do, she must do alone. You can only get in her way.'

Once more Pazel met the old woman's eyes. There was no gloating in them, and no hesitation either.

'I hate you,' he said. 'I hate all of you, with my soul.'

'Souls are exactly what concern me,' said Oggosk. 'Get out.'

29 Teala 941

108th day from Etherhorde

The Honourable Captain Theimat Rose

Northbeck Abbey, Mereldin Isle, South Quezans

Dear Sir,

Fond greetings from your only son.3 We are making no less than fourteen knots as I write these words, for the gale that carried us from Simja still blows favourably, east by south-east, and the warm Bramian Current works to our advantage as well. Today we passed the islet called Death's Cap: that lone round rock with its forest of poles, on which for countless years the Arquali Navy has displayed the skulls of pirates and mercenaries, and others who dare to live untamed by Magad's fleets. Our last glimpse of Imperial civilization.

We are yet some days from the Ruling Sea; by my reckoning the ship is currently due west of the Quezans. I shall raise a glass in your direction at supper tonight.

In fact I should like a bit more of a storm. Not only to speed us on our way, but also to keep lesser boats in port. Now that the deed at Talturi is done we must, above all things, remain unseen. And while we have kept to the loneliest stretch of the Nelu Peren, there is always the chance of an encounter. Last Thursday a ship appeared on the northern horizon, but she was too far even to count our masts, let alone identify us.

We kept our distance until nightfall, and when the dawn came there was fog to the north, and we saw her no more.

Rougher seas would have made the great charade at Talturi more convincing as well. You know the island: brave mariners along the western coast, especially those from the city-state of Manturl Cove. But the north-east is another world: the men there are witless clam-diggers and reef fishermen, all under the sway of a daft Bishwa who has them forever building seawalls against a tidal wave that never appears. This is where we chose to sink.

The fog might have ruined everything — for on this one occasion we had to be noticed. Fortunately it did not reach Talturi until well past dusk, and in the end it even worked to our advantage. Just before nightfall we paraded, close and clumsy, along the north shore and the Village of Three Rivers. I made certain they saw us; I even saluted their mean little wharf with one of the forecastle guns. The storm was chasing their fishing-fleet home with tucked tails, though of course we barely felt it on the Great Ship. We ran before the wind with excessive canvas. If any true sailors watched, they must have noted our fouled mizzentop, our wagging rudder, our overall carelessness (it cost me much to force the men to work poorly; it appalled my every instinct, and theirs). Worst of all, we ran due east: straight at Talturi Reef, as though we knew nothing of it and could not hear the clang-clang-clang of the warning buoy. The fisherfolk leaped and gestured, and one or two signalled danger with a scarlet flag. We ignored them and ran on.

But as soon as night closed in we tacked three points to windward, circumnavigated the reef, and crept back under shortened sail to Octurl Point, the eastern extreme of Talturi Island. The Bishwa keeps a lighthouse there, but its lamp is weak and could not pierce the fog: only the buoy told us our distance from the coral. I need not explain to you that the danger was real: dropping anchor was out of the question, and yet we were not half a league from a submerged wall that would tear the bottom out of Chathrand as surely as any other ship.

We turned Chathrand into the wind, striking all but the fore topsail in order to keep us pointed true, and to hold our shoreward drift to a minimum. Then I set six hundred men to work.

All that vital and expensive wreckage had been raised from the hold already: broken spars, shattered mastwood and gunwales, cabin doors with brass nameplates, boxes of engraved cutlery, footlockers, water casks, wine bottles, life preservers, a perfect replica of the Goose-Girl, a fine Arquali cello, first-class children's toys, a ruined longboat with IMS Chathrand emblazoned on her stern. All was genuine; even the tar on the tattered rigging matched our own. At my orders men pried open the crates, slit the burlap, severed the ropes that had secured all this flotsam, and dragged it to the gunwales, port and starboard, bow to stern. It was a weird sight, Father: our untouched Chathrand, draped in artifacts of her own demise.