Crown of Renewal (Legend of Paksenarrion) (63 page)

Dorrin was asleep, making up for the previous night, when the captain woke her. “Come up; you need to see this.” The tone of his voice told her it was nothing good.

Once on the upper deck, she saw the sea was now a darker blue, with the sun highlighting sails in the distance.

“That one,” he said. “Big square sail. It’s on our track and has been since midmorning. Top basket saw it first, sure it came out of Ka-Immer. Not a merchanter. Closer now than it was, though it’ll be dark before it catches us. And there’s one just come out of Whiteskull—see there? Anything out of Whiteskull is a pirate.”

“It could be someone headed for the western ports like us.”

“Not likely.” He was silent a long moment. “If they’re after you … All I know of you is the Sea-Prince asked me to take a passenger and ask no questions. And I haven’t.”

“You haven’t,” Dorrin agreed.

“But now … you told me you were in Aarenis before, even in the Immer ports. Fighting, you said: that would be Siniava’s War, eh?”

“Yes.”

“And you might have enemies, you said. Even the Duke of Immer. You should’ve been safe enough aboard, up there in the basket … but someone’s on our track, with a way to call in help. What did you
do, steal from the Duke? Summat of great value? Is that what’s in your box that only you can move?”

“I stole nothing,” Dorrin said. “Something was stolen from my family, long ago. Stolen again in Fin Panir before I even knew it had been lost to us. And from that theft it came to Aarenis and the Duke of Immer; that much is known.”

“So … you are hunting it back?”

“No,” Dorrin said. “I have the rest … what it belongs to … and Immer wants it. He thinks it will give him mastery of the whole world.”

The captain stared at her a moment, then burst out laughing. “Mastery of the world! The man is crazy! And why would he think that?”

Dorrin shrugged.

“It must be magic, whatever it is … if he thinks that.”

Dorrin said nothing.

“And you have it. Here, on my ship?” He looked around as if it might be up on the top deck with them. “No—you have it on your person? Or in that box.” He came close to her. “What is it?”

“I must not tell you.”

“Not tell me? When my ship is in danger, you think you will not tell me what that danger is?”

“The danger is in those ships,” Dorrin said. “Not in what I have or do not have.”

“Do not chop words,” he said. “This is
my
ship—my life. My people. We carried you safely from Bannerlíth, through storm and good sailing both, and gave you cover in Ka-Immer. Yes, I know you fought with us against the pirates, but that saved your skin as well as mine. I will not risk my ship and my people for some … some …” He turned aside and spat. “You will tell me or you will go over the side, and may the fish demons gnaw your bones to sand.”

“If you throw me to the sea,” Dorrin said, “and Immer finds what I left aboard, he will rule everything and great trouble will come of it. Do you think he will treat you courteously when he finds it? No: he will kill you and everyone aboard to hide what he has taken and keep it secret, and all Aarenis will come to be as Aare is now, a barren land.”

“You speak nonsense,” he said, breathing hard.

“I speak truth,” Dorrin said, touching her ruby.

“So … what do you plan to do,
truth speaker
, when they catch up with us? Will you hide in the basket again and pretend to be a sailor? Hide in the hold and be dragged out like a rat? Or fight? I tell you, though we carry crossbows and cutlasses, if it comes to it before we are out in the open sea again, we will not fight free before more ships come from Whiteskull and Seafang both.” He took a breath or two, looking again at the distant sail behind them. “I am not willing to lose my ship for you. I do not hate you, but …”

“Will they be here before it’s dark?” Dorrin asked.

“What? No … no, not if the wind holds, but they can follow us in the dark. We will show against the sky as long as it is light, and they will be close … Why?”

“Put me and my box in your rowboat. I will row away. When they stop you, I will not be there.”

“You know how to use oars?”

“No … but it can’t be that hard. I watched the boats in the harbor.”

His eyebrows went up, and a snort of amusement came. “Cannot be that hard? If this were not a serious matter, I would do it now and let you find out how hard it is not.”

“I do not want you to lose your ship or be hurt or your crew to suffer because of me,” Dorrin said. “If I leave the ship with my box, you will be safe.”

She could tell he was considering that, though he was shaking his head slowly. “You will be killed. It will be my fault. The Sea-Prince will ask when I come again if you made it safely to Marley.”

“If we are close enough to the western shore I can row to shore, and hide … make my way west on land …”

“But you want to go to Aare—”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“What you do not know, you cannot be made to tell,” Dorrin said.

“You’ll never make it to shore,” he said. “I just wish I knew how someone found out you were on this ship.”

“Someone in Bannerlíth,” Dorrin said. “Or … the thing stolen from my family was a magical item. Perhaps it guides him.” She was sure of that.

The other ships drew nearer. Now Dorrin could see the black and green design on the sails of both: a sea-monster, with arms, claws, a serpent body, and a fish’s tail. She went back to her cabin, put on her mail, belted on the sword, and pulled the box out from under the bunk. She at least would fight. She felt the ship slow … heard flapping as the sails came down. When she came on deck, sailors were in a row across the deck, armed with wooden staves and cutlasses, watching her, and the captain was leaning over the railing of the upper deck. She looked up; two sailors in the top basket had crossbows aimed at her.

“Here’s what it is,” he said. “You admit you, or what you’ve got in that box—or both—are what they want. Those are all Immer’s ships. I paid the fees—nothing held back, and they know that. If we make it easy, they’ll take you and won’t harm my ship or my crew. If you want to fight them, do it somewhere else, not on my ship. If you were willing to be cast off in a rowboat, you should be willing to do that.”

“And if I’m not?”

“If you think you can take down my crew, that’s near four hands altogether, including the cook behind you now with a carving knife, you’re welcome to try, and we’ll hand you over to them bound and bloody and probably dying.”

Dorrin glanced back. The cook grinned at her, not a friendly grin.

Free me. Open the box
.

She let the box slide out of her arm and set it on the deck, then bent to the clasp.

“Stop!” the captain said. “Don’t open it. I’m not letting you throw it overboard or loose whatever magery is inside. Just stand there until they come, and then get off my ship.”

“Later,” she said quietly to the crown. It did not reply.

The ship rocked gently in the waves as the other ships came nearer. All were galleys, one of them rowed by men in green and black uniforms and the others by crews of what looked like brigands,
but with green and black badges to match the pennants flapping from the mastheads. Two slid alongside, one on either side; the others waited at a little distance. One hailed the captain; its crews wore the uniforms.

“You have a passenger.”

“Aye, so I do. Standing there on deck.”

“We take.”

“Go ahead.” The captain nodded to his crew, and two of them tossed a bundle of netting over the side.

Men with cutlasses and crossbows swarmed aboard from both sides; one of those in green and black wore a helmet with a green plume.
Blessing
’s crew retreated to the bow, offering no resistance.

“You didn’t say at Ka-Immer,” the man with the helmet said to the captain.

The captain shrugged. “Nobody asked.”

The man looked at Dorrin. “Put sword down.”

“No,” Dorrin said.

“Or we kill.” He half drew his own sword.

Dorrin shrugged. “If you kill me, you will not be able to move the box.”

He laughed and said something she did not understand. Two of the men in black and green came toward her and took hold of the box. They tugged; it did not move. Tugged harder … still no movement. They looked at her, then at their commander.

“You cannot move it without me,” Dorrin said. She murmured nonsense, hoping they would take it for a command, and touched the box with her boot. It rose in the air and settled into her arm. Their eyes widened.

“You bring, then,” their commander said.

From the foredeck of the galley, Dorrin looked up at
Blessing
. Sails lifted; the ship moved through the water, away from the galley. The other galleys were already rowing back toward Whiteskull.

“You come,” said the man with the helmet. Half the oarsmen were
back at their benches, working their oars to turn the galley around; the rest, weapons still in hand, formed a guard around Dorrin as she moved aft between the rowers. She had no idea what would happen, though she suspected it would end with her death when they reached shore.

When the black-haired man hobbled out of the aft cabin and faced her, she did not recognize him until the man with the helmet addressed him as “my lord Duke.” The Alured she remembered—young, handsome, arrogant, and oddly appealing—had aged and now looked desperately ill, his face lined with pain, fever patching his cheeks an unnatural red, his lips pale as if he had lost blood. One leg was bandaged, the bandages stained as if the wound drained. Yet the determination he had always shown was still there. And a glint of blue showed at his throat, where his hand clutched at his shirt. He stared at her then spoke to his commander.

“Take the box; open it.”

The man reached for the box; Dorrin did not try to hold onto it, and it jerked from the man’s hand, crashing to the deck as if it were heavy with gold.

“Open it!” Alured said again; Dorrin could hear the strain in his voice. Once more, the men tried and could not open the box.

“
You
, Captain Dorrin. Open it.”

“No,” said Dorrin. “And you will not open it without me.”

He laughed a little. “So you think. I have the key to that lock.” He reached into his shirt and pulled out the necklace. Dorrin caught her breath. It was larger than she had imagined, the stones glittering in the afternoon sun. And it leaned away from Alured’s hand toward the box like a pennant in the wind. Dorrin heard indrawn breaths from some of those watching.

“Bring it to me,” Alured said, looking at the necklace. “Open, now …”

Dorrin had been sure the crown would command the necklace, that the box would not open for anyone but her. When the box flew open and the regalia lifted out from beneath her spare clothes, her heart sank.

“Yes,” Alured said. “There it is—there is my crown!”

The crown hung a moment in the air, revolving, sending watery patterns of refracted light over them all, the galley, the water around, until Dorrin was dizzy with it. And then the crown settled on her head, a definite weight.

Queen. At last. Together
.

The necklace lifted from Alured’s neck and slid over his head as if weightless.

“No!” Alured said, grabbing it before it could escape. “You’re wrong … it’s not hers! It’s mine!
I’m
the king! She’s just an old woman. I’m strong.
I’m
the one!” He hobbled toward her. “Give it to me!” Then to the others, “Make her give it to me! Get it—”

Quick as a striking snake, the necklace recoiled and wrapped around Alured’s neck, tightening like a noose. Two of the loose stones from the box flew straight at his face, striking his eyes. He shrieked, clawed at his throat, staggered onto his bandaged leg, and fell.

And at that moment, Dorrin felt a crushing blow on her back that drove her over the side of the galley, face-first into the water.

Arcolin watched dust rising from a fast-moving horseman on the path beside the Guild League road’s paved center section.

“One of ours?” Cracolnya said.

“We’ll know soon enough,” Arcolin said. As the rider neared, Arcolin could see the rose of his tabard under a coating of yellow dust.