Scimitar's Heir (23 page)

“So you think…” Feldrin started hesitantly.

“I think there are two possibilities: either Eelback’s own interpretation of the scrolls was incorrect, and he is unable to use your child to resurrect Akrotia as he planned, or we are walking into a trap…for you.” Ghelfan stared intently at Cynthia. “And your child is merely the bait to get you to the Chamber of Life. There, the mer will somehow attempt to force you to bring Akrotia back to life.”

The confusion in Cynthia’s mind disappeared. She closed her eyes and tried to picture her son; did he have her eyes, or Feldrin’s? Her fair skin, or Feldrin’s dusky hue? She didn’t know, but for the first time she truly believed that she would see him. She would find him alive.

“Okay.” Cynthia heaved a deep, cleansing breath and let it out, then turned to meet Feldrin’s anxious gaze. “This can work for us. It gives us time, and an element of surprise if Eelback doesn’t suspect we think it’s a trap.”

“Right,” Feldrin said, laying his huge hand on hers where it rested on his arm. His touch solidified her resolve. “Let’s go over them maps again, and figure out where to look next.”

Chapter 17

Discoveries

“The wind goes, Capt’n Sam,” Uag said, nodding up at the flapping canvas.

Manta
was still making reasonably good headway—maybe five knots, Sam estimated—but that was a far cry from the fantastic pace they had enjoyed down the island chain and across the Fathomless Reaches. The farther south they ventured, the lighter the winds became, and the more surly her crew. They had every stitch of canvas aloft, and the heat of the day was oppressive. There were only six crew on board: four men and two women. They were the ones she had deemed the most loyal, and least likely to crack her skull if things went poorly.

“Yes, Uag. The wind goes away. Soon there will be none, and we will have to use the new sweeps.” She gestured to the long planks they had laboriously carved into four long oars. They were small enough to be wielded by one person each, so they should be able to propel the slim-hulled
Manta
at a decent pace if they took turns. “We have plenty of water still, and we can catch fish if we need more food.”

“Yes, Capt’n Sam. Food and water.” He stood and peered out at the calm sea, his dark skin glistening in the sun, his coal-black eyes sweeping in a full circle. “Dis man we look for. He big magic, you say.”

“Yes, Uag.” She smiled, remembering the emperor’s flagship exploding in flames. She also remembered Edan’s other talents, the ones she had discovered before he gained his mastery of fire. “He has big magic. Much power.”

“He kill enemy for us. All enemy die.”

“Of course,” she lied. She wasn’t sure yet how she was going to coax Edan into helping Uag’s people, or if, indeed, she should try, but right now her promises were the only currency she had. Once Edan was back with her, she would have all the power, all the friends, she needed. The rest could burn for all she cared. She watched Uag make another circuit of the horizon with his eyes, then sit down under the small awning they had rigged over the cockpit. She didn’t like the worry on his face, but there was little she could do about it.

The heat, however, was something she could try to deal with. She picked up the bucket that they were using to dip seawater, and lowered it over the transom with the rope. It filled with a jerk, and she hauled it aboard. She stepped out of the cockpit onto the port hull and upended the bucked over her head. The water was tepid and hardly refreshing, but the breeze blew over her sodden clothes, and in moments she was cooler. Laughter and muttering from the cockpit made her smile. One of the others, a woman named Sepa who had more body piercings than seemed humanly possible, came out and grabbed up the bucket, dipped it and followed her example, grinning at her. She then dipped the bucket again, and doused the awning.

“Good!” Sepa said, which pretty much exhausted her language skills.

“Yes, good!” Sam agreed, climbing back under the awning to revel in the cooler air. The others were smiling now, too. Even Uag, her anxious first mate.

Sam checked their course, then sat back and closed her eyes for a moment. She let the cooling breeze calm her worries; she would find Edan and everything would be better. She eased into a light sleep, but her hand never strayed from the dagger at her belt.

≈

“Sail off the starboard bow!” came the call from
Lady Gwen’s
lookout, high atop the foremast.

Tim automatically looked to the north, though he didn’t expect to see anything; the lookout would see a ship miles before she was visible from the deck. He went back to watching the rocky shore of the mainland, only three miles to windward, amazed that anything could be so big. He’d been among the islands so long, he’d nearly forgotten even the idea of a continent. He kept expecting to round a point and see the land’s end, but beyond every cape the same huge land mass continued on.

“Where away?” the lieutenant on watch shouted up, raising his viewing glass to look.

“One point starboard, near the shore, sir! She just came hull up, makin’ good time. A fishing smack, from the look of her!”

“A fishing smack?” Emil Norris looked up from where he’d been writing in a small leather-bound journal. “Isn’t this a bit far from anywhere for a fishing smack?”

“Not really, Father,” Tim said. “Could be a courier, a root runner, or even a smuggler. Bloodwind used them as messenger boats. Want me to go up for a look?” he asked hopefully. He loved climbing to the foretop, though he knew it made his father nervous.

“We’ll see it soon enough,” Emil said absently, turning back to his journal.

Tim shrugged and looked back out over the water. He was bored with the view, the sailors’ conversations, the ship and their current predicament. They’d been ordered aboard the
Lady Gwen
two days ago, and had done nothing since but sit and watch the scenery pass by. He could tell his father was depressed, and Tim could hardly blame him; after meeting with the admiral, he had paced their room, raving about beating his head against a rock and pig-brained peacocks stuffed into uniforms. And they still had no idea where Miss Cammy or the captured prisoners were, or even if they still lived.

Too antsy to stand in one place any longer, Tim strode to the foredeck and peered to the north. He could barely make out a triangle of white ahead of them, just nearer to the shore than their course.

“Can I borrow your glass for a look, Lieutenant Fenley?” he asked, smiling up at the tall officer. He’d made friends quickly with all of the crew and some of the officers, and he liked Fenley. He’d taught the man two knots that he didn’t know, and won half a crown at Five-Card Mango with him and the boatswain during one of the night watches. He didn’t know until later that playing cards while on watch was against the rules, but the lieutenant had been the senior officer, so it didn’t seem likely to come back to bite him.

“Sure, Tim. Just be careful with it.” Fenley handed the glass over.

“Thank you, sir. I’ll be careful.” He raised the viewing glass and focused it, wondering idly why all adults thought anyone under the age of twenty was clumsy, stupid, and ignorant. He wrapped an arm around the foremast shroud and brought the glass to his eye. One glance at the sweep of
Flothrindel’s
graceful bow and he recognized her instantly. He opened his mouth and said, “It’s the—” but managed to stop himself.

“What’s that, Tim?” Fenley squinted down at him, curiosity written on his narrow face.

“I was gonna say it’s the sweetest little smack I’ve ever seen, sir, but then I remembered another one, elf-made, that had nicer lines.” He handed the glass back to the lieutenant with a polite nod. “Thank you, sir.”

The officer took the glass back with a nod and looked again, making a “Hmm,” sound in his throat.

Tim sauntered back to where his father sat and took a seat right next to him, so close that he jostled the man’s pen. “It’s the
Flothrindel
!” he whispered.

“The—” Emil Norris’ eyes widened, and his pen clattered to the deck. “Tipos! He’s on his way back already!”

“Shhhh!” Tim warned with a finger to his lips. “It’s got to be, Father. Unless the emperor took the
Flothrindel
and is using her as a messenger boat.”

“We should be able to see who’s at the helm, but the question is, what can we do if it
is
Tipos?” The count’s eyes were wide, his jaw set.

Tim opened his mouth to answer, then looked at his father for a moment, wondering if he was really ready for what Tim was about to suggest. After all, Tim had been a pirate, and was used to breaking the rules. His father was one of those people who
made
the rules. Then he remembered the way Emil had cursed when he wasn’t allowed to send out a search party for Miss Cammy or the captives, and he thought that maybe, just maybe, he was ready.
Well
, he thought,
we’re about to find out.
“The jollyboat,” he hissed beneath his breath, barely loud enough to hear.

The
Lady Gwen
, being a supply ship, had several launches at her disposal. One, the jollyboat, was barely larger than a bathtub, and might fit three men if they were not too large. It stood on davits well aft, just forward of the stern castle, and Tim knew he could cut it loose and lever it over the side in a flash.

“I can cut it loose, if you go forward and make sure it’s Tipos at her helm. If I borrow Fenley’s glass again, he’ll get suspicious. Tell him I told you it was a pretty boat, and that I said you’d like to see it. If you see Tipos, just drop your handkerchief, and I’ll cut the boat loose.”

“But how will I…” The count’s eyes widened even further, then they narrowed, the muscles of his jaw bunched up, and he nodded.

“You
can
swim, can’t you?” Tim asked. If not, their escape might turn into a rescue.

“Yes. Or, at least, I used to. Not for years, and certainly not in a waistcoat!” He sounded worried, but determined. “I shouldn’t have to swim far.”

“Just stay afloat, and I’ll come get you.” Excitement rose in Tim like an inexorable tide. Finally, they could
do
something. “Don’t jump over until you see the jollyboat fall.”

“Right.” Norris stood, tucked the small book in the belt of his trousers and tugged his waistcoat over it. “It’ll probably be ruined, but I dare not leave it to be read.”

“Okay.” Tim stood, trying not to grin. “Oh, and Father, if you can manage it, a sword might be useful.”

“A sw—” The count blanched, as if dubious what another three pounds of steel might do to his swimming ability, then he tightened his belt a notch and nodded. “Very well, Tim, but wait for my signal.”

“Right.”

Tim turned away without another word and sauntered aft. He leaned on the rail near the jollyboat and gazed out at the passing shore, glancing furtively first at the approaching sail, then at his father. It looked like the
Flothrindel
would pass within a half mile, close enough to recognize Tipos, he hoped. He drew the dagger he had hidden under his shirt—they’d confiscated his cutlass before hustling him and his father onto the
Lady Gwen
, saying he was too young to be armed—and held it along the underside of his arm. He watched his father speak to Fenley and receive the man’s viewing glass, then peer at the smack. Tim edged toward the davit lines. They were hemp, and as big around as his thumb, but the edge of his dagger was shaving sharp. One stroke where the lines were spliced to the beckets and the cut line would burn through the blocks as the boat fell, slowing its descent and hopefully ensuring that it would land right side up. He hadn’t mentioned that possible complication to his father, but if the little boat flipped, they would be in trouble.

He watched out of the corner of his eye, his arm with the dagger resting casually on the block. His father took off his coat; his mouth moved but Tim could not hear the words. He folded the jacket over his arm and withdrew a handkerchief to mop his forehead.

Tim tensed.

For a scant instant their eyes met, and his father gave a quick nod. The handkerchief fluttered free.

Tim cut the line without another thought, then whirled to cut the other as the little boat’s keel thumped against the rail. He braced his shoulder against the boat’s hull and heaved it over the side. The hemp line sang through the blocks, and he leapt up to the railing between the davits. A sailor’s shout reached his ears, but he ignored it, held the dagger carefully away from his body and dove over the falling jollyboat. The boy and the boat hit the water almost at the same instant. A quick sailor had already reached the railing where he had jumped, trying to grab the lines that had held the jollyboat, but the little boat bobbed free on the choppy sea.

Tim surfaced and looked toward the bow of the
Lady Gwen
in time to see his father leap from the railing, Fenley’s cutlass in hand. The count hit the water with somewhat less grace, but he surfaced and started to swim away from the ship. Tim was up and over the jollyboat’s transom like an otter, and had the oars set in their locks before the water had even emptied from his pockets. He turned and rowed for his father’s bobbing head, the shouts from the deck of the
Lady Gwen
fading in his ears.

“Father, are you okay?” he shouted over his shoulder as he turned the nimble little craft, presenting the lower stern for the man to climb over.

“Yes, I…” His father’s claim was drowned by a gurgle, but one hand reached up to grasp the transom. The other held the stolen cutlass up by the hilt and handed it over.

Tim took the weapon and flung it forward, then grasped his father’s hand and helped him, coughing and sputtering, into the little boat. Tim grinned, grabbed the oars and rowed like mad toward the white triangle of the
Flothrindel’s
sails.

“That was…” Emil Norris coughed again and then sneezed mightily, shaking the water from his hair like a dog. “That was exhilarating!”

“Glad you enjoyed it,” Tim said, pulling hard but grinning like a fiend. “Good job nicking his sword, by the way.”

“It was easy! When you cut the boat free and jumped from the rail, every eye on the ship was on you. I just grabbed the hilt, pulled it free, and jumped! Exhilarating! Why, I never thought to do such a thing in my entire life!” He clapped his knee with one hand and turned to look at the receding ship. “They are preparing to bring her about, Tim. Hopefully we can get aboard the
Flothrindel
before they do, or all of this adventure is for naught, and I’m afraid we’ll be in a great deal of trouble.”

“It’ll take her a quarter hour to get turned and back to this spot, Father. The problem will be if Tipos doesn’t see us.” Tim glanced over his shoulder but the swells blocked his view. “Where’s the
Flothrindel
?”

“She’s about two points to port. You’re on a perfect line if she…wait! She’s turning! I think they’ve seen us!” Norris stood and waved his arms, shouting, “Tipos! Ahoy!”