Juliet McKenna - The Assassin's Edge

“We can’t go back, not any of us, Guinalle.” Temar rubbed at bruises left by her fingertips. “I’m not doing this with you, not now, not ever again.” He swallowed hard and glanced involuntarily across the beach. Mercenaries, yeomen and sailors were all going unconcerned about their business while he was knee deep in anguished emotion. “Let’s concentrate on the matter in hand, shall we? Debates over present, past or future will be entirely pointless if we’re dead at the hands of these pirates or their Elietimm friends.”

For a tense moment, he wondered if Guinalle was going to weep, storm off, or slap him in the face. Instead she girded her customary self-possession tight once more and held out her hand. “Halice will want to know what far-seeing has shown us.”

Temar seriously considered not taking it. Then he recalled what fits of pique had cost him in the past. Abandoning his aetheric studies to pay Guinalle back for her rejection of his youthful love, for instance. If he hadn’t done that he could work this far-seeing himself. If he were to truly lead these people as their Sieur, he had to know what their enemy was doing. Temar set his jaw, took Guinalle’s hand and tried to summon up every defence she’d taught him in case her feelings got the better of her again.

But Guinalle had turned her back on her own inner turmoil. Her seeking mind rose high above the islands of Suthyfer, intent on the echoes of hopes and desires whispering through the unseen aether. Her stern purpose brought them to the Nenuphar , captain and crew keeping alert watch. Guinalle wove their myriad thoughts into a vision of the empty sea between the headlands that marked the strait between the islands, bright sunlight dancing on the water. Temar saw the Eryngo reassuringly massive in the water, bright red paint weathered to a satin coral hue. Pennants at every masthead declared the ship’s determination to bar the way to any pirate. The Asterias cut broad circles in the sea a little way off, foam scoring the rippling surface as the lesser ship made sure no pirate lurked in the hidden corners of the coast. Her master stood by the foremast, feet solid, watchful and at one with his ship and men.

“This looks well enough,” Temar said with relief.

“Let’s see what else they’re up to.” Guinalle sounded as if her adamant discipline had never so much as splintered, let alone cracked to reveal her vulnerability.

Temar silently thanked Ostrin for his long-dead adepts and the way they had trained her and then winced as the poisonous discord around the pirates’ camp rang like a tocsin in his head. “Can you find Naldeth?” Allin was sure to ask him.

“I daren’t go so close.” Guinalle held herself aloof, the gravel strand a distant vision. “There’s precious little subtlety to their Artifice but even they’d feel me coming any nearer. I daren’t lead them to him.”

“That’s their sloop being rigged and readied.” Temar closed his eyes the better to study the picture painting itself inside his mind. “They’re up to something.”

“He’s not sure what he’s dealing with as yet.” Guinalle watched dispassionate as Muredarch walked to the water’s edge. “He can’t make a plan until he does.”

“We’re not dealing with a fool.” Temar didn’t need Artifice to tell him that.

“They’re coming north.” As Guinalle spoke, Muredarch stepped into a battered longboat with pale new wood hastily patching its wounds. The oarsmen pushed off for the deeper water of the channel. “His enchanters have told him we’re here.”

“What are they doing?” frowned Temar.

“Waiting for instruction.” Satisfaction coloured Guinalle’s thoughts. “It seems Ilkehan doesn’t encourage initiative.”

Temar watched the pirates coaxing the sloop against the discouraging wind Larissa was carefully spinning from the breeze of the open ocean.

“He’s going to offer a parley.” Guinalle dropped Temar’s hand.

He opened his eyes. “We’d better tell Halice.”

The corps commander’s reaction was immediate and uncompromising. “Vaspret! Signal the Dulse . We want her underway as soon as maybe. Ros! Get your troop together and ready for anything. This Muredarch wants to talk.”

“I’m coming too.” Temar caught Halice’s sleeve.

She looked at him, considering. “All right. Darni! You’re in command here. I can’t see how they could try anything but that doesn’t mean they won’t.”

The mercenaries sprang into action leaving Temar and Guinalle looking apprehensively at each other.

Usara and Allin came out of the cabin.

“What’s all the commotion?” the mage-girl asked, concerned.

“Muredarch’s sailing to parley with us,” Guinalle replied, voice steady.

Usara was watching her closely. “Do you suspect some deceit?”

Guinalle’s brow creased. “I don’t believe so.”

“I would welcome your presence.” Temar looked from Allin to Usara. “Both of you. Just in case.”

“You’ll need me.” Larissa had come, unnoticed, to stand a few paces off.

Temar was uncertain. “Darni won’t like it.”

“Darni’s not my keeper,” snapped Larissa.

“No, I mean that will leave him without a mage, should he need one, should we need to send him some message.”

“Any mage can bespeak Darni,” Larissa said quickly. “He’s an affinity, for all it’s too weak to be any use.”

That left Temar on the wrong foot. Before he could think what to say, Allin spoke.

“It’s all right. I’ll stay.”

Temar found either prospect bothered him; taking Allin into possible danger or leaving her here where some unforeseen trouble might come down on her.

“It’s better you take Larissa,” Allin continued. “Her element’s the air, after all.”

“Very well,” he agreed reluctantly.

“Come on!” Halice was waiting by a longboat on the water-line. “We want to be waiting to meet the bastard. He needs to know we’re wise to his every move.”

Temar hurried down the beach, flanked by Usara and Larissa. He managed not to look back for Allin until he was on board the Dulse . Then he found her close by Darni’s reassuring bulk.

“He’ll keep her safe.” Usara stood by him at the ship’s rail.

“And she him, no doubt.” Temar turned to look at the afterdeck where Larissa stood by the helmsman, ill-concealed triumph on her face as she raised her arms and summoned skeins of sapphire power to swell the sails. “Just what is she trying to prove, ’Sar?”

“I’m not really sure.” The mage paused. “I don’t think she is either.”

Whatever drove Larissa, Temar had to acknowledge her skills as her wizardry drove the Dulse through the water so fast that foam surged beneath her prow. By the time the labouring pirates had coaxed their sluggish ship all the way up the strait, the Dulse had been waiting long enough for Halice to become visibly impatient.

“At last,” she muttered as the lookout hailed the expectant gathering on the aftdeck.

“They look exhausted,” remarked Temar with satisfaction.

Larissa giggled, bright eyed. “Shall I slacken the breeze a little?”

“Can you encircle them?” Temar asked. “Make sure they’ve no chance to make a run for it?”

“Oh yes,” Larissa said confidently.

“Mute your magelight,” Usara said suddenly. “He knows we have magic but not necessarily who are the mages.” Larissa blushed and did as she was bidden.

“Temar.” Halice nodded to the pirate’s snake-crested pennant, which was sliding to halfway down the sloop’s single mast. “Time to play the Sieur for all you’re worth.”

Temar took a deep breath as the mercenary ushered him down the steps to the main deck. Usara followed him to the side of the ship as, at Halice’s nod, the helmsman skilfully swung the Dulse closer to the pirates. Not too close. Not within the reach of a grapnel.