Juliet McKenna - The Assassin's Edge

A ripple of appreciative laughter encouraged him. Temar waved a negligent hand.

“You’ll be well paid, that goes without saying, but all the gold ever minted can’t buy a life and it’s the lives of those innocents in that foul stockade you must fight for tonight. You’ve all heard what was done to Naldeth. You’ll not stand to see that done to anyone else, will you?”

A dour chorus of agreement ran around the sands and Temar saw righteous anger on most faces, coloured here and there with ferocious anticipation.

“This isn’t the night for making those scum pay for their crimes, mind you. That’ll come soon enough, never fear. Tonight you take away the stick they think they can beat us with. Then we wait for friends elsewhere to cut away the prop of their treacherous magic. Once that’s gone we’ll send them all so fast to the shades there’ll be standing room only in Poldrion’s ferry. Saedrin himself will have them drawing lots to see who steps up first.”

That didn’t get much of a laugh so Temar stopped straining his eloquence.

“Go in, get the prisoners, get back here with your skins whole.” He shrugged. “It’s simple enough. You know what you’re doing.”

That won him a rousing cheer and a slap on the shoulder from Halice. “We’ll make a leader of you yet, my lad.”

“Not if you keep calling me that,” he retorted.

“We’ll keep it between you and me, then.” She grinned, unapologetic. “Come on, Allin, Usara.”

Halice didn’t look back as she strode down the beach, her handpicked troop gathering around her. She’d stop calling Temar ‘lad’ when he’d earned the respect to go with the title birth and chance had conferred upon him. Not that he was doing so badly, she allowed, though that romantic streak would have had him long dead in the viciousness of the Lescari wars.

“What’s the joke, boss?” Minare was at her elbow, the rest following on behind.

“Nothing.” Halice’s smile vanished. “We’re ready for dealing out blood and filth and death and pain?”

“All single minds and no hearts,” Minare confirmed. “I should have known there’d be a price due for a peaceful life in Kellarin.”

“Make sure anyone within reach of your blade dies there and we can all go back to it.” That’s what Halice’s mind was set upon. “Come on, get a move on!” She waved the fighting force towards the waiting boats.

The captain of the Dulse was waiting on the main deck when she climbed aboard. “How close do you want me inshore?”

“We’ll tell you when we get there.” Halice looked to check the longboats were being securely lashed to the Dulse ’s stern. “Wait for our signal and then come in to get us.”

“It’s poor light and worse water,” Master Jevon warned her.

“The wizards have that in hand,” Halice reassured him. “Usara? This way.”

The mage followed her to the shallow deck of the forecastle where Halice found a dark-haired man with a coil of thin rope in his hands, leather and bone tags marking its length.

“Jil, this is Usara. Right, Master Mage, prove this idea of yours works before I risk all our necks trusting you.” She nodded to Jil who deftly cast the lead weight he held over the prow, fingers noting the thin rope’s progress without conscious thought. “We’ve got—”

Halice hushed him with a curt hand. “Usara?”

Usara frowned. “There’s five spans of water beneath the keel. The bottom’s sandy here but there are rocks about a plough length that way.” He pointed into the darkness. “And over there.”

“Jil?”

“That’s what the charts say,” admitted the sounding man.

“We’ll make a pilot of him yet, won’t we?” Halice grinned.

“Good enough to put me out of work.” Jil didn’t sound too thrilled.

Halice left the mage to placate the sailor and went down into the waist of the ship, balancing herself as the ship got underway. Her troop was gathered on one side of the deck, Darni’s on the other. Halice listened with half an ear as Darni spoke to those under his command. She’d been relieved to see he treated his men well as they’d drilled their motley band into some semblance of a corps. He was appropriately courteous to the few women under his command as well, but cut them no slack that might trip the entire troop. Halice had no quarrel with that.

The Dulse ’s crew moved round and above them, alert to every peril of night sailing. Master Jevon stood, arms akimbo, on the aftdeck. The helmsman didn’t take his eyes off his captain as he felt every movement of sea and ship through the whipstaff.

“Will this be like taking that watchpost?” Halice saw the lad Glane was looking apprehensive.

“Easier, if we all keep our heads,” she told him unemotionally. “Keep one eye on the enemy, one eye on your mates and one on Vaspret.”

Glane managed a hesitant laugh. “I’ll try.”

“You know where that third eye comes from, lad?” Peyt was sharpening a sword that gleamed brilliantly clean in contrast to his unshaven dishevelment.

Glane shook his head, mystified.

Peyt clutched his groin with a suggestive grin. “What’s got one eye in here?”

“Think with what’s between your ears, not between your legs,” Halice interrupted him. “Chance your arm like you did in Sharlac and I’ll leave you behind.”

“Peyt’ll just walk back across the open water,” Deglain laughed from his seat in the shadow of the mainsail.

Peyt sneered at him but, before he could reply, Halice bent close to whisper in his ear. “Don’t think you’ll get a chance to stay and turn pirate. I’ve someone ready to put a bolt through your head if I give the nod, you and all your cronies.” She watched him with a dangerous smile as he realised the men he’d relied on to back him in Kellarin were scattered between the two troops. The arrogance faded from his face.

Halice stood in the centre of the deck. “Tonight, we put a scare into them. Do that well enough and they’ll break like reeds when we make our main attack. Check your weapons and be sure you’re ready to go as soon as we get there.”

She moved on to the sheltered stretch of deck just below the aftcastle. Rosarn looked up from bundling sheaves of arrows into oiled skins to save them from salt and damp. “We’ve less than five quivers a bow,” she warned. “And fewer spare strings than I’d like.”

“It’s a raid, Ros,” Halice reminded her. “We’re not taking the field against the Duke of Parnilesse again.”

Rosarn smiled. “He’s too much sense to fight in the dark.”

“Nobles are supposed to be wise. It’s mercenaries are madder than rabid dogs.” Halice watched the crossbowmen checking ratchets, windlasses and quarrels. “Did you get those pictures from Pered?”

Rosarn patted the breast of her jerkin. “We’ll know them better than their own mothers.”

“If you get a shot, take it but we’re not out to kill them at any cost.” Halice raised her voice so all the archers heard her. “Just keep them scared and ducking their heads as we break the prisoners out.”

“All set?” Darni came up to join them.

“Well enough,” Halice confirmed. “Yours?”

Darni nodded. “The experienced lads know we’re saving some pottage for another day. They won’t let the green ones start a fight to the death.”

“As long as they’re blooded before we take them into a real fight.” Halice looked the length of the ship, her gaze halting on Usara still high in the forecastle. “Fighting was so much simpler without magic to complicate it.”

“Don’t blame the mages,” Darni grinned. “Planir’s all for a simple life.”

“Let me know if he manages one,” Halice said drily. “I’ll bottle the secret and hawk it round the fairs. Where’s his favourite complication?”