Eric Flint - This Rough Magic

The shaman picked up his quodba drum with blistered fingers. He could not help noticing that the skin of his one-time foe, now the drumhead, was singing. Vibrating just faintly all by itself.

Benito, a Corfiote seaman, Capitano Douro and Erik stood in the captain's cabin, peering at a chart of the island. "If they have patrols out, it will be here, milord," said the seaman, pointing. "Between Kavos and the mainland. It is only, oh, maybe three leagues across the strait there."

"They'll have lookouts on both sides, I presume?" asked Erik, studying the chart.

The seaman shook his head fiercely. "Not on the mainland! The Lord of the Mountains would never allow that."

"The Lord of the Mountains?"

"Iskander Beg. He is chief of the Illyrians over there. He is a very bad man." The Corfiote shuddered.

"So there will be a watch on the Corfiote shore," mused Erik. "But probably just a ship at anchor well off the other shore."

"Do ships sail this strait at night?" asked Benito.

The sailor managed to look shifty, evasive and shocked, all at the same time. "Oh, no! It is dangerous. It is not allowed. The podesta has ordered-strictly-that there is to be no shipping in the straits at night."

"But you just happen to know how to sail it," said Benito, dryly.

The sailor shrugged. "Fishermen do it. There are some fish best caught at night."

"Ah. Fish which would pay taxes if they were landed by daylight? You needn't worry my friend," chuckled Benito. "I'm not a tax collector. In fact a good friend, a very, very good friend of mine, used to be involved in smuggling stuff into Venice. Someone all of us here know, in fact, except maybe the capitano, and I wouldn't be too certain about that."

The sailor looked hastily at the Venetian captain, and said nothing.

Benito looked at the captain too. "Capitano Douro. Unless I'm a lot stupider than I think I am… you've got some goods you weren't planning to pay taxes on when the ship reached Ascalon?"

The captain looked startled. "Well…"

"I'm not planning on telling anyone," said Benito. "And this ship won't be getting to Ascalon. I just wish to reassure our guide."

The captain nodded. "A matter of some amber… just a few small, choice pieces."

The seaman looked at Benito, shook his head and chuckled. "You're too sharp for one so young, milord. Yes. We'd bring cargo in and land it right on the wharf in Kerkira. I've been up the strait in the dark more times than I can count. There are a few places you need to avoid. This time of year the current runs strong. The worst piece will be the last bit. We need to approach close to the mole. Farther east, we'll rip her guts out. But as I said to the skipper: I can get us in."

The captain grunted. "Not as well as you could if we had a load of taxable cargo on board," he countered, but he did so with a smile.

The oars were bound in sacking. Men sharpened weapons. The gunners prepared the cannons, though they were not to be used, except as a last resort. Armor was readied but not donned. If they got through the screen of guard boats, then the armor would be hastily put on. Boarders and armor did not go together, and they might have to board a guard ship.

It was an awkward combination of circumstances. The moon, a hazy object often hidden behind gathering clouds, was slipping beneath the horizon. It was going to be as black as the inside of a cat out there. If they came upon a guard boat suddenly, the knights would act as boarders-no firearms, just swords and murderous haste. A single shot fired would mean retreat, and landfall elsewhere.

After that, if they were spotted they'd run for shore and try to beach the vessel. The knights had already planned to smash out the cladding timbers between the ship's ribs and swim their horses to shore. Once again armor was likely to drown both the knight and the horse. So, for that it would be helmets and shields only. But in the final attempt to reach the Citadel, they aimed to bring the ships to rest on the shingle just off the northern side of the islet. Sea access to this was between the islet and castle on Vidos and the Corfu Citadel itself.

The biggest difficulty was going to be keeping two silent, darkened vessels in touch with each other. They had one steersman, and two ships. A long line between the two helped. A man on the bow of the second ship kept a coil of this line in his hand, keeping the line tight without allowing it to pull. He had to feel whether it was pulling away to any direction or if the front vessel was slowing or speeding up. A second man in the bow of the second ship was ready to listen to softly made gull cries. One for port, two for starboard. Gulls shouldn't be calling in the small hours of the night, but Benito's ingenuity deserted him on this one. At least it wouldn't sound as unnatural as voices.

By the time they reached the southern channel it was so dark that all that could be seen was a shape of deeper darkness where the landmasses lay. Well… except for the cheerful lanterns that burned on the four equidistantly placed watch vessels.

How nice of them to show Benito where they were!

It was all Benito could do to stop himself laughing helplessly. They slipped through relatively close to the lantern-lit vessels, just in case the enemy had put unlit vessels between.

In the tense darkness, Manfred snorted. "We're past. Let's give a rousing cheer to celebrate."

"There are more hurdles," said Benito. "Listen. You can hear the cannon fire."

They could. A distant deadly rumble. The steersman pointed. "Those lights are Lefkimi. We're passing Lefkimi point now."

"How long is it going to take us to get to Kerkira?" whispered Erik.

The man looked at the sky. "If we get the sail up now, we should be within hailing distance just before dawn." Benito caught the flash of teeth. "Or within cannon shot. I hope those priests can come up with the magic they promised, milord, or the Venetians' own fort and Vidos castle will blow us apart."

"They're very powerful Christian mages, those priests," replied Erik stiffly.

The Corfiote didn't seem especially impressed. "I've no faith in priest's magic. On Corfu we have some real, old magics. Scary things, but powerful, sirs, maybe more powerful than anything you've ever seen."

"Eneko Lopez is one of the most scary men in the world. And he is not going to let us down." Benito spoke quietly, with a faith he hoped he felt.

"I reckon we'll get a chance to see if that is true. If he fails we're shit. Fish-shit, soon enough," said the steersman with morbid humor.

On the main deck the seamen were raising the carefully blackened mainsail. Under oars it had been tricky to keep the two vessels running in tandem. Under sail it would be virtually impossible. The second vessel would just have to do its best with a helmsman following the dark patch that was the sail of the lead vessel. They still had a good few leagues to go before the final dash.

"There's a small vessel ahead! Also running without lanterns. Running away from us."

"Smuggler?"

"Must be. We've made someone shit themselves." The seaman grinned.

Manfred came up on deck. "What was that?"

"Smuggler-ship. Avoiding taxes," said Benito knowledgeably.

Manfred half-choked. "And just who is collecting taxes right now, Benito?"

"Oh, hell! Do you think it was a watch-boat? We'd better run for shore."

"No," said Erik decisively. "If it was a watch vessel, someone would have fired off a signal. What you saw there was a sign that things are pretty bad on the island. That 'smuggler' will have a human cargo. He's taking refugees away, not bringing illegal goods in."

"I've got three sisters and a brother in Achilleon," said their steersman, quietly. "I wonder what's happening to them."