Northern Storm

Chapter Two

Just where have our supposed guardians of these seaways got to?’ Kheda scowled past the upswept stern posts of the Mist Dove as the trireme pulled away from yet another landing empty of Chazen ships. ‘At least no one’s offered tales of trouble washing up on their beaches.’ Dev waved as the trireme eased along the shore watched by a party of huntsmen clutching the heavy square-ended blades they used for hacking paths through the dense forest.

‘And at least they look ready to drive it off, if trouble turns up.’ Kheda raised a hand to acknowledge two fishermen pausing to raise their long spears in salute on their hunt for the ugly bristle-mouthed fish that lurked among the roots of the coppery reed beds.

‘There should be more boats on the waters, shouldn’t there?’ Dev queried idly. ‘Trade’s in the Aldabreshin blood around here as much as in the central domains.’

Where you hid so effectively under the mask of a thoroughly amoral merchant for so many years.

‘Village spokesmen should be keeping in touch with one another, at the very least.’ Kheda’s irritation was unabated. ‘I want to know where Nyral is.’

The trireme continued to pick a cautious path between low, muddy islets, slowing almost to walking pace to navigate the turbid channel between the encroaching groves of knot trees. The breezes off the open seas were baffled by the smothering vegetation and the sun beat down ever hotter from above. The still air smelled more of silt than of salt and the raucous cries of crookbeaks crashed through the taller lilla trees set back from the shore.

Kheda wiped sweat from his face and accepted a cup of water from Dev. ‘Shaiam? Any suggestions where we might look for Nyral next?’

A tall, wiry man with plaited black hair and beard climbed up the ladderlike stair from the rowing deck. Nothing we haven’t already thought of, my lord.’ The trireme’s shipmaster clutched a battered and salt-stained black book in a hand almost the same hue as the leather cover. His naturally dark complexion had been deepened by years in the strong southern sun, striking against the vivid red of the long sleeveless mantle he wore over his bare chest. His russet trousers were cut short just below the knee, revealing sturdy calves and long splayed toes that gripped the smooth wood of the deck ‘So we’re still heading for Kalan?’ Alert in his seat just in front of the shipmaster’s lofty chair, the helmsman Yere gripped the twin stern oars that governed the mighty trireme’s movements. He spared a glance for the book open on his knees, bound in unfaded indigo leather.

Kheda noted that the helmsman’s painstakingly compiled record of Chazen’s sea lanes was nowhere near as thick as Shaiam’s mute testament to the older man’s years of experience.

A book holding so many of the secrets that the shipmasters barter between themselves. How many of Chazen’s hapless mariners were forced to trade away such precious knowledge as they fled the invaders? What else could they offer in return for water or food or a secure anchorage? Who has such knowledge now?

He stared out over the clouded waters as the narrow channel opened up and the rowing master down below signalled for the piper to pick up the pace.

‘We’d best not make a long stop at Kalan, my lord, not if we want to be back at the dry-season residence for the new-year rites.’ Yere’s serious expression sat oddly on his cheerful brown face, exuberant black hair curling untamed to his shoulders.

‘Let’s hope we find Shipmaster Nyral quickly, then,’ Kheda said curtly. ‘I’ll be interested to hear just how he and his crew plan on keeping bilge rats out of our waters when he’s nowhere to be found in the reach he was set to guard.’

‘We can make up some time here, my lord.’ Shaiam lifted callused fingers to his mouth to whistle down to the rowing master, who looked up from the sunlit aisle between the rowers on their staggered seats. Nodding, he clapped his hands briskly to encourage the oarsmen, indistinct on each side in the shade cast by the split upper deck of the trireme. The shrill note of the flute gathered speed, the piper sitting on the wooden block half-way down the aisle where the mast would be stepped, should Shaiam decide that the wind was favourable enough to call for the sail.

Kheda looked down at the shadowy oarsmen as the trireme shivered beneath his feet.

What would you rowers think if you knew I’d taken an oar in a merchant galley, pulling my weight all the way to the northernmost domains in search of lore to drive the invaders and their magic out of these southern waters? Would it strengthen your loyalty to know that I understand how the world shrinks to the oar in your hands and the pipe note in your ears after a long day’s haul? Would you be impressed that I know all the tricks of tying a rope grommet to secure an oar and how best to repair an oar port’s leather sleeve?

Or would you just want to know exactly what it was that I found in the far north? Would you guess it was Dev? Would you start speculating on just how it was that he could help me kill the savages’ wizards?

The oarsmen murmured a count among themselves to measure their increasing pace. The ship gathered speed, driven on by the rushing oars. The rowers fell silent as they settled into a regular rhythm, the only sounds from the lower deck the pipe, the creak of rope, leather and wood and, lower still, the susurration of water beneath the trireme’s long, lithe hull.

‘Of course, Nyral could have found someone making free with Chazen resources,’ remarked Dev thoughtfully, ‘and come to grief himself.’

Kheda shot a glance at the barbarian before nodding slowly. ‘It’s possible. Let’s be certain we’re ready for a fight.’

He walked swiftly forward along one half of the uppermost deck as the Mist Dove ploughed through a broad, shallow channel thick with mats of floating lily leaves. The small detachment of armoured men on the trireme’s bow platform rose dutifully to their feet at his approach and bowed low.

Ten swordsmen and four archers is the complement for a fast trireme sailing as advance scout or messenger. A heavy trireme like this should have fifty men ready to put paid to any mischief. And loyal as they are, these hopeful warriors are the remnants of those too old and too young to fight the savages last year. All Chazen’s best swordsmen died in defence of their women and children as they fled the murderous magic.

‘My lord.’ The senior warrior stepped forward and bowed low. In a plain chain-mail hauberk like the rest, helm of dull steel unadorned, he was sweating profusely in the breathless heat.

‘Aysi.’ Kheda inclined his head by way of acknowledgement. ‘I was wondering if Shipmaster Nyral might have run into trouble. Will you be ready to meet any challenge that comes our way?’

‘Ready and willing to serve, my lord.’ The grizzled swordsman stroked his close-cropped beard thoughtfully. ‘Ridu will probably be safest in a fight. His strokes are still so wild no one will dare come near him, for fear of losing their head by accident.’ He spared a glance for the youngest of his ill-assorted detachment, a lad with a beard barely a hopeful shadow on his round jaw. The lad ducked his head in discomfiture as the others studiously avoided catching each other’s gaze.

Atoun would never have embarrassed a lad like that. He had the knack of welding the most ill-matched men into a fighting force that won respect for Daish from all our neighbours. There’s no one in Chazen to equal him, to take his place as commander of the warlord’s warriors. Any man who could is probably dead like Atoun, at the claws of the monsters the invaders wrought with their magic.

Kheda turned to the archers. ‘Will we have fresh meat to feed these brave warriors this evening, Tawai?’

‘Give us half a day and we could feed a fleet, my lord.’ The oldest of the archers grinned, then his lined, leathery face turned serious as he patted the quiver at his hip, bristling with red and brown goose feathers. But we can’t bring down armoured men with blunt fowling arrows. We need chisel-heads to get through armour and broad-heads with barbs to be sure of a crippling wound, and we’ve few enough of those.’

‘I’ll be happy to let Tawai and his lads drop any scoundrels from a distance. It’s too hot for close-quarters fighting.’ Aysi didn’t quite succeed in making a joke of his interjection.

‘I’m sure you’ll make every shot count, if we do run into trouble,’ Kheda assured the archers with an encouraging smile.

Because I can hardly give Dev your fowling blunts and watch while he melts the very metal of the arrowheads in the palm of his hand, then reshapes it with his sorcery to suit your needs.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kheda saw the wizard intent on something ahead of the Mist Dove, the creases around his eyes deepening as he squinted against the brilliance of sea and sky. His already thin lips narrowed further. ‘There’s the Yellow SerpentV

As Dev pointed, Kheda saw the light galley emerge from a distant channel. A brassy flourish from the Mist Dove’s signal horn rang out and the Yellow Serpent altered her course with a crash of oars stirring dirty foam from the sluggish waters.

‘Still on her own, I see.’ Forcing his face into a polished mask of serenity, Kheda left the Mist Dove’s bow to her paltry fighting force and returned to the stern platform.

No sign of Nyral, it seems.’ Shaiam sat in the shipmaster’s chair, signal horn loose in his lap as he looked over Yere’s head to gauge the distant galley’s speed.

‘My lord, let’s have both of our ships draw into that bay.’ Dev pointed abruptly to one of the few lumps of land where tandra trees reinforced by the lofty grey trunks of ironwoods defied the all-pervasive knot trees.

‘Why?’ Kheda looked at the wizard, bemused.

‘You could go ashore and see if there’s any bird pepper growing thereabouts,’ said Dev with heavy emphasis. ‘You were saying you would be needing some if the turn of the year brought any cases of worm fever. It’ll only take the two of us and we’ll barely be delayed.’

‘What?’ Kheda stared for a moment before realisation dawned. ‘Yes, that’s very true. Good thinking, Dev.’ He glanced at the shipmaster with an apologetic smile. ‘If you would, Shaiam. I imagine there will be a shortage of healers this year.’

‘My lord.’ At Shaiam’s nod, Yere leaned against his steering oar to turn the ship towards the shore. Kheda jerked his head at Dev and the two men passed behind the shipmaster’s chair to lean against the solid baulk of timber made by the curved stern planking rising up above their heads.

Good thinking, Dev, if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, but you could have been more tactful. Telouet would have made some joke about making landfall to look for plants at every opportunity, to disguise any true intention.

He studied the uncommunicative back of Shaiam’s head.

And Jatta would have had something to say about it, as shipmaster of my personal trireme for six years and more. Smooth as the seas he sailed, he’d still have reminded me of all the reasons why I was needed back at the residence sooner rather than later and that any delay should be avoided. Let’s hope he still serves Daish as loyally.

Kheda glanced at Dev but the wizard was intent on the Yellow Serpent, which had noted the Mist Dove’s change of course and was following suit. The gap between the two ships was narrowing rapidly and every eye on the trireme was on the light galley.

You people are always so hesitant about speaking your mind, on this ship, at the residence, in any village I visit. Why so diffident? Chazen Saril was no brute. Though his father had a harsh reputation and his grandfather was a byword for ruthlessness according to Daish Reik. I don’t suppose anyone taught Saril that encouraging friendship and even honest disagreement would strengthen his people’s loyalty, not weaken his authority.

But how do I encourage openness and honesty when I have so much to hide, such deceits burdening me? The Mist Dove slowed and the rowers deftly turned the vessel before backing the trireme into a shelving landing. Gritty mud grated beneath the shallow hull and anchors splashed into the water at Shaiam’s command, an answering shout coming from the sailmaster up on the prow platform.

Dev threw a rope ladder down beside the stern posts, the perfect attentive slave. ‘Let’s be quick, my lord, then we can be back aboard before the Yellow Serpent reaches us with her news.’

‘Indeed.’ Kheda climbed down the ladder to discover that the water at the trireme’s stern was waist deep. Pausing to thread one arm through the rope rungs, he unbuckled his sword belt and held his blades shoulder high as he waded ashore, bare toes feeling more mud than sand underfoot. At least the cool seawater was refreshing in the heat of the day. Reaching the water’s edge, he paused to don his twin-looped sword belt and secure his weapons again, watching Dev stride through the sea towards him. ‘Finally, some privacy.’ The wizard grinned with satisfaction as he paused on the water’s edge. ‘Though there’s not much point having a password for our excursions if you can’t remember it. I thought it’d take you till sunset to catch my meaning.’

‘You’ll be spending the rest of the day polishing our chain mail after this wetting,’ Kheda pointed out with faint malice.

‘What are you going to wear in the meantime, my lord?’ Sarcasm sharpened Dev’s voice. ‘The threadbare blue silk or the yellow with the mould stain on the back?’

Kheda grimaced. ‘Let’s hope Itrac has managed to replenish my wardrobe with the necessary elegance by the time we get back. Now, what have you got to say that you don’t want Shaiam hearing?’

‘Let’s find some still water.’ Dev walked into the green gloom beneath the tandra trees. The air was still, perfumed by the yellow flowers of cat’s-claw creepers.

‘We can find Nyral without resorting to magic,’ Kheda said curtly, not moving.

Not and be sure of getting back to the residence for your new year. Isn’t that your overriding priority?’ Dev looked back over his shoulder. ‘Come on. And keep your eyes open for bird pepper,’ he added as an amused afterthought.

Kheda followed the barbarian reluctantly away from the shore and in among the taller trees where green pods were swelling in the forks of the tandra tree branches. Emerald and sapphire glory-birds were picking their way carefully around a striol vine’s vicious spines to reach a sard-beny bush’s bounty. Avid ruby butterflies flitted between the scarlet blooms while glittering beetles feasted on the fallen fruit. Beyond the dense shade cast by the mighty ironwoods, the orange-gold trefoils of fire-daggers carpeted the ground.

‘This’ll do.’ Dev halted by a hollow where some storm had scoured the soil away from the buttress roots of an ironwood tree to leave a little pool as nursery for some blithely paddling froglets, their brown and yellow mottling a perfect match for the forest floor. Would this be a sign for you?’ the wizard asked with mild derision. ‘Or shall I just get on and find some certainty for us?’

‘You may be a man without convictions, Dev, but don’t scoff at those of us who see more than the here and now.’ Kheda studied the leaf-stained water. ‘As it happens, frogs can be a sign of many things. It’s certainly a good omen to find them thriving in a pond this long after the rains, especially since the last rains were so short’ He grimaced. ‘Though a frog’s croaking can signify someone talking nonsense. They can be a symbol of foolish aspiration or a reminder to stay close to one’s home and birthplace.’ Do you talk nonsense, wizard, when you try to convince me to meet your demands? Am I deluding myself if I think

/ can make a success of ruling a domain I wasn’t born to? Would our lives have been better if we had both stayed close to home and never become entangled like this?

Dev chuckled as emerald light dripped from his fingers into the water and the frogs hopped frantically in all directions. ‘They don’t want to hang around. Make of that what you will, Kheda, while I do something useful.’ The wizard crouched by the pool, which was now suffused with a mossy light.

‘Just be quick about it.’ Kheda turned his back, trying to ascertain if anyone else had come ashore from the Mist Dove. ‘If you can see Nyral, try to find some excuse for whatever detour we’ll need to take to happen to encounter him. I want to see what he’s got to say for himself before I quit these waters.’ There was no sign of any movement by the shoreline, so Kheda searched the undergrowth for bird pepper or any other medicinal plant.

Better find something to justify this trip ashore. And curse him, Dev’s right. Horn else am I going to find out what’s afoot in these islands? But we’re not going to be doing this for much longer. Not once I’ve woven a proper net of eyes and ears to sustain my rule. Not once I’ve reinstated the beacon chains and we’ve bred enough courier doves to send the length and breadth of the domain.

Chazen will recover, surely? These people are strong and they are bound together in so many ways. They’ve known each other, traded with each other’s villages, since they were old enough to sail the waters in between. More than that, they’ve been through the sorest of trials this last year and survived, not least because every one of them lent a helping hand to anyone who needed it, in the face of the invaders’ malevolence.

Let’s hope such ties are strong enough to hold the domain together until they accept me as reader of portents, giver of their laws and healer of their sick. Let’s hope they are strong enough to defy any menace I’ve inadvertently brought into these waters through my compromises with magic.

‘I can’t find Nyral,’ Dev said slowly, but you should have a look at this. You’ve got vermin in your waters.’

‘What?’ Kheda threw aside a handful of feathery raposa stems.

‘See for yourself,’ Dev invited, hands spread palms down over the water.

Reluctantly, Kheda looked into the ensorcelled pool. An image floated on the iridescent magic. Several sailing boats scarcely bigger than pearl skiffs were drawn up on a muddy landing.

Not such unusual boats for fishermen.’ Kheda scowled dubiously all the same.

‘With enough men to crew them five times over and no sign of nets?’ scoffed Dev. ‘Granted, they’ve got women with them, but no children, no elders. And if they are honest islanders come back to Chazen, why are they hiding their boats?’

Kheda watched the minuscule figures hastily concealing the vessels under green branches hacked and ripped from the knot trees. ‘Show me those huts.’

Dev swept his hands over the pool and the image shivered, clearing to reveal the battered remnants of a village set just out of reach of tide and storm where ironwood trees offered shade.

‘There’s not a sailer seedling planted and no one’s tended those vegetable plots this side of the rains,’ Kheda said more to himself than to Dev. ‘What do you suppose they’re here for?’

‘It’s half a year since you drove out the invaders.’ Dev shrugged, unconcerned. ‘It’s a fair bet some island or other will have something worth stealing by now.’

Not in that village.’ Kheda studied the crude repairs made to those few houses still standing after the torrential rains of the wet season had added to the depredations of the invaders. Holes and burned patches in thatch and walls had simply been roughly patched with woven panels torn from the remnants of wrecked huts. Where exactly are they? They’re not staying anywhere in Chazen without explaining themselves to me.

‘Which will just mean more delay,’ said Dev with distaste. ‘You can see as well as I can that they’re no loyal Chazen folk come home to rebuild their lives.’ He grinned wickedly. ‘I can chase them off for you from here. They won’t stop rowing till they run aground on the northern mainland.’

‘You use no magic without my sanction,’ snapped Kheda. ‘And remember what I said If anyone sees you using any enchantment, I’ll behead you myself.’

The mage gazed at him, untroubled. ‘Do you think they’ll believe you when you swear you’d no idea that I could be such a foul thing as a wizard? Who knows, they might. Stranger things have happened,’ he taunted, ‘like wild men coming out of the empty ocean, following wizards who clear their path with torrents of murderous fire. And stranger still, those same wizards suddenly all starting a fight to the death among themselves, presumably to be cock of the dunghill they’ve made of the Chazen domain. And strangest of all, Daish Kheda, who everyone would swear was dead, just happens to be there to see it and to spearhead an Archipelagan riposte. Which does at least entitle him to lay claim to the domain when Chazen Sail, coward though he was, happens to die in most peculiar circumstances.’ Kheda gritted his teeth. ‘We can deal with this without your enchantments. Just show me where they are.’ Dev concentrated on the shimmering pool. ‘We can accidentally run across these people if you can talk Shaiam into cutting across to the more northerly sea lane that runs back to the residence.’ He looked up at Kheda, dark eyes unfathomable. ‘Then we set sail for the western isles as soon as you’ve seen your new year in. I don’t want to lose my chance of finding some clue as to where those invaders came from before your swordsmen slaughter the last of them. And I’ll be going looking in my own way and be cursed to your Aldabreshin ignorance and fear of magic. You owe me, Kheda, and don’t think you can settle our account with a knife in my ribs.’

‘First things first. Let’s see who these beggars washed up on Chazen shores might be.’ Kheda looked down to find he was gripping one of his sword hilts and thrust it back into its scabbard with a muted click ‘And let’s get back to the ships before someone comes looking for us.’

Clearing out such parasites is something honest I can do for Chazen s good at least. Will they prove to be thieves, though, or truly paupers in need of our care?

Do you want to make any wager against the future here? If Dev is proved right, does that mean your best course will be to take him to the western isles in the hope of unravelling the mysteries of those savages? The warlord turned his back on the wizard, heading for the shore with rapid strides. He barely slowed as he entered the water, wading out to the ladders hanging from the Mist Dove.

‘Hesi hasn’t seen any sign of Nyral,’ Shaiam announced without preamble.

‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’ Kheda glanced over at the Yellow Serpent waiting patiently out in deeper water. ‘But he had better keep looking. As for ourselves, we had best set a course to the residence if we’re to be sure of arriving for the turn of the year. Won’t we make a quicker passage if we cut across towards the main sea lane coming down from the north?’ He looked at Shaiam, brows raised in query.

I hope that makes sense. I could almost wish for one of Dev’s treacherous barbarian maps of these waters. I don’t think I will ever understand Chazen’s isles and backwaters the way I did those of Daish. You have to be born to a domain to truly know it.

Shaiam nodded slowly, a little perplexed. ‘I don’t see it making much difference but we might pick up some wind to win us a few ship lengths.’

Kheda hid his relief as he feigned a new thought. ‘It’s always possible Nyral has sailed that way. Signal Hesi to follow us and the Yellow Serpent can search those reaches.’

As Dev climbed over the rail on to the stern platform, Shaiam moved to shout this new plan across to Hesi. Yere glanced curiously at Dev, to be met with a blank look that the barbarian edged with just a hint of challenge. The youthful helmsman turned his attention to calling down to the rowing master and settling himself at his steering oars.

As Shaiam set his crew hauling on their oars with a shout of encouragement, Kheda moved to sit cross-legged at the rear of the stern platform. He took off his helm and stared ahead, unseeing. Muddy seawater from his trousers spread across the deck, glistening briefly before the breeze brushed it away. Dev sat silently beside him, the barbarian fingering the links of his chain-mail hauberk as he dried in the sun.

Have there truly been such positive omens and so many favourable portents on this voyage? Can I be sure I’m not misreading them? Could the con-uption of the savages’ enchantments still be perverting the natural order in Chazen? Could my ties to past and present have been severed by the touch of Dev’s magic?

I’m sick of such uncertainty. My commitment to this domain must surely link me to its future. I must start looking to the heavens again. The stars ride far above any earthly taint. And I must be sure I am committed to Chazen. I must turn my back on Daish once and for all if I’m to be any kind of warlord to these people, or any kind of husband to Itrac Chazen.

As Kheda looked up, resolutely banishing recollections of clearer seas, the trireme broke free of the clinging islands to reach a broad channel opening still wider to the south. Kheda took an appreciative breath of the fresher air but noted the empty vista with displeasure.

Dev’s right to wonder at the lack of trade. There should be merchant galleys sailing north and south at this season—Chazen’s own and visitors from all the local domains proud to fly the pennants that give them the right of passage in our waters.

‘My lord!’ A shout from the prow was half-surprised, half-alarmed, and one of the youthful swordsmen came running back along the side deck. ‘There’s a boat in the water, my lord, overturned.’ His voice turned to outrage. ‘It’s been holed, my lord, deliberately. Looks like an axe did it.’

Is this a sign that we need not resort to any more lies to find these people?

Kheda forced himself not to look at Dev. Where has it come from? Shaiam, can you tell? Yere?’

‘On that side of the channel?’ The helmsman searched the murky water for the wreckage before leafing through his route record to confirm exactly where the navigable backwaters ran hereabouts. ‘It’ll have washed out of that inlet, I think?’ He pointed, looking to Shaiam for support.

The shipmaster nodded, tugging at his braided beard. ‘Or the one to the north.’

Kheda got to his feet. ‘Raise signal flags for the Yellow Serpent. We’ll take the northern channel, they can take the southern. Let’s see who thinks Chazen can afford to lose a serviceable boat for firewood.’ He stifled a qualm of apprehension as the vessel shot towards a gap in the chain of islands on the far side of the channel. At first glance, the narrow entrance offered no more than a stagnant dead end for the unwary, or worse, a deathtrap for the uninvited. The shore was thick with grey-brown knot-tree roots clawing at tangles of lily leaves. As the Yellow Serpent vanished down a similarly uninviting watercourse, the air grew thick and stifling once again. Kheda felt sweat trickle down his spine.

In contrast to his apprehension, this unexpected turn of events prompted a surge of enthusiasm from the rowing deck. The Mist Dove forced a path through the dense vegetation, branches yielding in a flurry of snapping noises.

‘My lord!’ Another of Aysi’s hopeful swordsmen was perched precariously out on the timbers that projected from the trireme’s bow to protect the foremost oars when ramming an enemy. He clung to the upswept prow with one hand. ‘A trading boat but flying no pennant!’

‘Follow it!’ Kheda shouted back.

Shaiam caught up his coiled brass horn and blew a terse demand that the smaller vessel stop to identify itself. Its master plainly had no such intention, hastily canting his sail to catch the wind and speed away. ‘Sound a signal for the Yellow Serpent,” Kheda ordered Shaiam, keeping his eyes on the fugitive.

As the horn’s cry echoed back from the green-cloaked isles all around, the Mist Dove’s piper picked up his pace and the trireme’s rowers followed suit. They were nearly on top of the trading boat as it rounded a shallow headland foul with muck and flotsam and fled headlong for a muddy cove. With a shock of relief, Kheda recognised the landing that Dev’s spell had shown him. Small figures on the shore froze in startled confusion as they saw the trireme bearing down on them.

‘We’re going ashore,’ said Kheda tersely.

‘My lord?’ Shaiam looked at him with surprise.

Kheda could see the unspoken words in the shipmaster’s dark eyes.

It’s not the place of warlords to get themselves killed in skirmishes like common swordsmen. That’s all very well, as long as a warlord has plenty of common swordsmen to do his bidding. ‘I’m going ashore,’ he reiterated, ‘and I want every oarsman trained with a sword to follow.’

At least they have proper swords, even if each lesson Dev gives them is the one I’ve just finished drilling into him.

‘Hold on to something,’ Shaiam advised before shouting down to the rowing master, ‘Turn and beach us!’ The piper sounded a shrill note and every blade rose clear of the water. Kheda held tightly on to the back of the shipmaster’s chair as Yere hauled on his steering oars to twist the Mist Dove’s stern to the land. Below, the rowers lifted their feet and spun around on their seats, each man now facing the prow. Turning almost inside its own length, the Mist Dove wallowed for a moment before the rowers dug their first stroke deep with a guttural shout. The oars crashed into the water and the galley surged stern-first for the shore.

Dev threw the ladders down over the stern while the timbers were still reverberating with the impact. Aysi and his men came running along the side decks, the archers scanning the shore, arrows nocked and ready. Below, the innermost ranks of rowers abandoned their sweeps to their neighbours as the sail crew handed out the weapons the ship carried in lieu of a full contingent of warriors. Kheda pulled on mail-backed gloves and steadied his swords as he made ready to drop over the stern.

‘Running like rats.’ Dev observed the commotion ashore with contempt.

‘A cornered rat can still take your finger off’ Kheda watched the men and women on the beach scattering. A few were running to the huts just visible in the trees. More were retreating towards the three ships they had beached, drawing swords of their own. Some had clambered aboard the vessels, throwing aside the concealing knot-tree branches with frantic haste.

‘They won’t get them afloat, not with the tide as it is,’ Dev said with cruel amusement before sliding lithely down a rope ladder.

‘If they do, Hesi will catch them.’ Kheda glanced over his shoulder to see the distinctive silhouette of the

Yellow Serpent approaching. He settled his helm firmly on his head and drew the chain-mail veil around his neck and throat, snapping the clasp below his chin. Sliding the ornate face plate down the nasal bar, he locked it in place. But as he climbed down the ladder, he realised he was lacking the metal-plated leggings that should complete his armour.

You still have a lot to learn about being a decent body slave, Dev. Telouet would never have let me on to a hostile shore with bare knees.

He had no chance to do anything about it. The trireme’s swordsmen were pressing close behind him, drawing their blades in a flurry of flashing sunlight as they splashed through the shallows. ‘If they yield, take them prisoner.’ Kheda’s words rang out across the beach for the benefit of these unknown newcomers as well as Aysi’s warriors. ‘If they fight, kill them. This is Chazen land and my writ runs here.’ His voice was harsh behind the steely lattice of his visor.

At the centre of the ragged line of armoured men, Kheda led a slow advance across the damp, muddy ground. The youth Ridu raised a cry of ‘Chazen!’ and the oarsmen backing the swordsmen picked it up, every repetition gathering menace.

The unknown men and women drew back till they had their boats at their backs, swords thrust forward. All Kheda could see was ugly defiance. Men and women alike, all were young, their feet planted firmly on this ground they had claimed and brandishing swords with more ferocity than skill. A couple wore chain mail and a handful more had somehow scrounged the coats of nail-studded leather that were customarily a village spokesman’s privilege. The rest were relying on hastily sewn jerkins of turtle hide or sharkskin.

The Chazen line advanced to within twenty paces of the beached boats. With an inarticulate roar the enemy rushed forward, wild strokes cleaving the air until Chazen blades met them with a grating clash of steel.

Kheda’s vision shrank to the foe before him, anything to either side a blur. His opponent thrust desperately, a last instant of hesitation robbing his sword of any real strength. Kheda parried easily before turning his stroke into a backhanded slash to bite deep into the man’s upper ann. With skills honed since his earliest youth, he swept up his off-hand sword to run the man clean through just below his ribcage.

Not so low as to strike a hip. Not so deep into the body as to risk binding on the backbone.

Kheda ripped his sword free of the dying man and took an instant to assess the combat on either side. Dev was more than holding his own, even if his strokes owed more to natural viciousness than real skill. A rower to Kheda’s open side was not doing so well, already bleeding from a ragged slash to his thigh. Kheda moved to shield the man with his armoured body and a killing stroke came down to rasp impotently along the warlord’s mail-clad arm as Kheda forced the rusty sword aside.

Kheda brought his second blade round at waist height to disembowel this new adversary but the man leapt backwards in the nick of time. Even as he shied away, the man twisted his own sword into a brutal thrust at Kheda’s face. The warlord couldn’t help but flinch, knocking the blade away with an instinctive blow. The nameless adversary followed up his advantage, sword spiralling down to hack at Kheda’s unprotected legs. Kheda dropped instantly to one knee, awns rising as he did so. The solid steel side plate of his hauberk met the enemy’s notched blade as Kheda’s leading sword swept up and across to cut the man’s hand off at the wrist. The spray of blood had barely reached the warlord before his second blade bit deep into the man’s thigh. Springing to his feet, Kheda ripped the blade backwards and bright heart’s blood soaked the man’s grubby cotton trews. As he cried out, he locked gazes with Kheda for a timeless instant.

You’ve been in battle before. You’ve a deftness in your swordplay that speaks of decent training. And you ‘ve seen enough blood to know that you ‘re dying.

As the man let his sword ann fall, unprotesting, Kheda put all his strength into a backhanded scything stroke. The man’s severed head flew a few paces sideways to startle another foe rushing in to attack Dev. The man stumbled and Dev was on him, running him through the breast. The wizard’s enthusiasm betrayed him and he found himself struggling to extricate his sword from the clinging embrace of the dead man’s ribs.

Kheda saw a youth lift his sword in a shaking hand to thrust at Dev’s face. The warlord shoved Dev aside and stepped forward to sweep the stained and notched blade away before bringing the youth down with a sharp slice to the side of his leg. The lad fell to the trampled and bloodied ground, clutching the crippling wound to his knee, his shrieks lost in the all-encircling clamour.

As Dev finally ripped his sword free, Kheda heard a new sound shoot across the tumult. Getting Dev’s atten—

tion with an emphatic elbow, he jerked his head backwards and the two of them retreated from the thick of the fight, the Mist Dove’s eager rowers closing up the gap they had left.

A second hiss of arrows flew across the beach and Kheda looked to see Tawai and his archers up on the Mist Dove’s side decks sending a rain of arrows soaring towards the village. Aysi and a handful of his swordsmen were advancing towards the huts. As the cascade of shafts ceased, Aysi broke into a run, the others hard on his heels.

‘After them!’ Kheda ran inland, Dev at his side, his breath rasping within the confines of his helmet. Sweat soaked the padded cotton beneath his armour, hot between his shoulder blades and trickling down the hollow of his spine to disappear into the cleft of his buttocks. His shoulders protested at the unrelenting weight of his armour and his thighs burned with the effort of running up the incline towards the sorry huts. When they arrived, no enemy was still standing. Several were dead with arrows ripped through their bodies or dying of mortal sword wounds. Two were face down in the dirt with a Chazen foot on their necks to make sure they stayed that way.

‘My lord!’ Ridu appeared from behind one of the tumbledown huts, gore clotting on both of his swords. ‘Here, quickly!’

Kheda sheathed one sword and raised the face plate of his helmet. ‘What is it?’

‘Aysi,’ Ridu gasped, face ashen.

Kheda rounded the but to find the old warrior flat on his back, his helmet cast aside. One side of his face had been laid open by an axe blow, the weapon lying beside him. Its owner was sprawled some distance away with enough gaping wounds to kill him three times over.

Aysi’s nose and cheekbone were smashed, white splinters sinking beneath the welling blood that had already drowned his mined eye. It pooled in his ear, soaking through his grizzled hair to puddle on the ground beneath his head. The warrior’s jaw worked desperately as he choked on blood and spittle.

‘Don’t try to talk’ Kheda knelt and gripped Aysi’s hands as the old man feebly sought to clutch at his pain. As the blood trickled away from the hideous wound, Kheda saw just how deep it had gone.

‘Get the warlord’s physic chest!’ Dev bellowed and other voices carried the order down to the beached trireme.

There’s no staunching this, no salve that can do anything, not even dull the pain before he dies.

Kheda held both of Aysi’s hands firmly in his mail gauntlets. You proved yourself a mighty warrior today. You have won a warlord’s consideration for your family and your whole village.’

Aysi’s unwounded eye looked up past Kheda, uncomprehending, as his lips moved soundlessly. He coughed up more blood and froze in a rigid spasm of agony before going limp.

Kheda heaved a sigh and laid the old man’s lifeless hands gently on his breast. ‘Is anyone else hurt? Ridu!’ He raised his voice to get the youth’s attention.

No more than scratches.’ The youth looked down at his dead mentor, distraught. ‘Apart from Aysi.’

‘Let’s make sure his death hasn’t been in vain.’ Kheda rose to his feet and gripped the lad’s shoulder hard with one mailed hand. ‘Did you catch them all?’

Dev glowered at his side. ‘Are you sure none of them fled into the trees?’

No, that is, we got them all.’ Ridu scrubbed tears from his cheeks, his hazel eyes still white-rimmed with shock.

‘Bring your captives down to join their friends.’

Kheda waited a moment to be sure the youthful warriors had themselves in hand before striding back down to the shore. ‘Let’s see what these scum have to say for themselves.’

Now what?’ Dev’s brown eyes were avid.

Now you’ll see what it means to have me as your warlord,’ said Kheda shortly. ‘You and everyone else.’ I didn’t look for an opportunity to send this kind of message, but I can’t afford to pass it up. Down by the sea, the dead had already been dragged aside into a loose-limbed heap, the dying left to whimper out their last moments. Those who had thrown down their weapons were circled by oarsmen holding ready blades. The prisoners knelt with their forehearls pressed to the damp earth. Kheda saw that the trireme’s archers had come ashore and were gathering up the abandoned blades. He summoned Tawai with a snap of his fingers. ‘Did they carry daggers?’

None, my lord, just rough knives.’ The archer came over with an armful of swords, some scabbarded, most not.

‘They had some warrior’s weapons.’ Kheda carefully extricated one naked blade from the pile. The steel was stained with rust as well as blood and the filthy silken cord braiding the handle was inexpertly wound. ‘But scarcely cared for and clumsily sharpened.’

‘Salvaged from some isle where the invaders slaughtered Chazen warriors?’ Tawai hazarded. ‘The savages never bothered picking up fallen blades.’

‘Didn’t know how to use them,’ remarked Dev derisively.

‘They killed enough of our people with their stone clubs and wooden spears.’ Tawai looked at the barbarian with as much distaste as he dared.

‘We are hardly likely to forget that,’ said Kheda with mild reproof. ‘No, nothing about this sword tells me where it came from, or whose armoury it was made for.’

Telouet might have seen similar somewhere, might have known enough to hazard a guess. No one here is going to be able to.

He tossed the mined blade aside. ‘Let’s see if one of these vermin can tell us where they got their blades.’ The circle of rowers parted obediently to give him access to the cowering captives, who raised hopeless eyes to the armoured warlord.

‘Who led you here?’ barked Kheda.

Most immediately dropped their gaze to the patch of ground in front of their knees. A few were startled into betraying the same man with an unguarded glance.

‘Bring him here.’ Kheda pointed a merciless finger.

Dev promptly stepped forward and wound one hand in the loose cloth of the man’s tunic, throwing him down in front of Kheda, who studied him dispassionately.

‘One of our warriors died today, reclaiming this land for Chazen. You owe the domain a death.’ Kheda nodded at Dev, who looked back at him with faint confusion.

Much as I like to see you disconcerted, wizard, this is hardly the time.

Kheda held his breath as understanding dawned in Dev’s eyes and the barbarian drew his sword with slow deliberation.

‘My lord, please . . .’ The prisoner shrank into himself, shoulders hunched.

His plea was silenced as Dev’s blade flashed in the sunlight. The captive’s head leapt from his shoulders, the cut clean and barely bleeding.

Hopefully no one else will have seen enough beheadings to know what an impossible stroke that was. Hopefully I was the only one who saw that shimmer of fire edging Dev’s blade.

His face a mask of implacable severity, Kheda looked around the cove to see the Mist Dove’s oarsmen wide-eyed with awe at their warlord’s decisive action. The swordsmen and archers were more open in their vengeful appreciation of such immediate retribution. Kheda addressed himself to the rest of the quaking prisoners with cold condemnation.

‘You came unbidden into Chazen waters. Far from seeking my permission to stay and promising your duty to me, to this domain and its blood, you have plundered this island and who knows what else besides. Shall we see what we find in your ships and your huts to answer that question?’ he wondered ominously. He paused for a moment and was relieved to see guilty glances passing between some of the captives, condemning them as thieves as well as interlopers.

None of you carries any dagger to acknowledge the domain that bore you, so you’ve plainly abandoned such allegiances,’ he continued with scorn. ‘At least that spares me the tiresome chore of seeking recompense for your malfeasance from any other warlord. You can all pay for your offences with your bodies, as slaves. My lady Itrac Chazen will be opening her dealings with the domains to the north shortly. I’m sure she can find some value in your worthless carcasses.’

Kheda turned his back on a despairing wail of protest stifled by a heavy blow behind him. He summoned Tawai with a curt gesture. ‘Call the Mist Dove’s sail crew ashore. They can flog these wretches into submission and stow them aboard the Yellow Serpent. I’m not carrying that amount of dead weight on the voyage back to the residence. Light a fire and burn those bodies, they deserve no better. Set Ridu and his boys to burying Aysi fittingly. His body in the soil of this place will assuredly confer strength and courage on those who may dwell here in the future.’

‘As you wish, my lord.’ Tawai bowed low.

‘And tell your men I am most impressed with their skills. You are obviously an excellent teacher. I’d be grateful if you’d share your talents with the residence garrison.’ Surprising the archer with a smile of warm approbation, Kheda walked away along the shore towards the beached trireme.

Dev drew level with him. You don’t want to spring surprises like that on me,’ the mage said frankly. Kheda glanced around to make sure there was no one close enough to overhear them. ‘At least you rose to the occasion.’

‘I always do that.’ Dev chuckled.

‘I think I saw how,’ said Kheda, unsmiling. ‘Just be thankful no one else did.’

‘So what do we do now? My lord,’ Dev added for the benefit of Shaiam, who was climbing down from the trireme’s stern.

Kheda addressed himself to the shipmaster. ‘The Yellow Serpent can stay to patrol these waters as we decided earlier, even with captives in her hold. We don’t need them weighing us down ‘

‘My lord.’ Excessively apologetic, Shaiam inten-upted and gestured out to sea. ‘The Thorn Circle has appeared.’

Nyral’s ship?’ Kheda moved to get a clear view and found that he recognised the fast trireme. Well, well. I wonder what he will have to say for himself

‘Was it just his laziness that let these scavengers get a foothold here?’ Shaiam looked dubiously at the slowly approaching vessel. ‘Or could he be in league with them?’

‘Either way I’ll be stripping him of his command for failing the domain so grievously,’ Kheda said severely. ‘The only question is should he just be flogged bloody or until we see the bones of his ribs.’

‘Care for a wager on that?’ Dev cocked a sardonic brow at the shipmaster.

Kheda continued as if the barbarian hadn’t spoken. ‘The Thorn Circle can follow the Yellow Serpent under a new master. You and Hesi decide between you if it’s Yere or the Yellow Serpent’s helmsman who’s earned the promotion.’

‘The Thorn Circle’s crew have sailed with Nyral a long time, my lord,’ said Shaiam doubtfully. ‘I don’t know how they’ll take to a new shipmaster.’

‘Then tell Hesi to remove any who look as if they might be trouble and to mix plenty of the Yellow Serpent’s oarsmen in with the rest.’ Kheda looked steadily at the tall mariner. ‘And let the Thorn Circle’s men know that Hesi has order to ram them at the first sign of mutiny. A light galley won’t sink a fast trireme but the Yellow Serpent could certainly spring enough planks to cripple it. Tell Hesi to drive it into shallow water first, though, if it comes to it,’ he added wryly. ‘Truth be told, we can’t afford to lose any vessels and I don’t want to lose any men if we can help it. I just want Nyral and the rest of his crew to know that I am master here.’

‘There’ll be fewer doubters when word of this day’s work sprearls.’ A broad grin cracked Shaiam’s dark face.

‘I certainly hope so.’ Kheda smiled conspiratorially before nodding towards the captured boats now stripped of their ineffectual cloak of knot-tree branches. ‘Pick the best men you can spare to crew those and to spread that word a little wider. Have them tell Hesi if there are any honest folk living in these backwaters. I’d like to have someone ready to send word if they see any unknown ships that might be considering a sniff down towards the pearl reefs. Tell Hesi I’ll send him out a cage of courier doves when I get back to the residence so that he can report to me directly.’

‘Yes, my lord,’ said Shaiam with satisfaction. ‘And now let’s deal with Nyral,’ concluded Kheda softly. The Thorn Circle was drawing cautiously alongside the Mist Dove. The three men stood silently as the fast trireme grounded softly and her stern ladders promptly lowered. Dev turned and whistled and the Mist Dove’s swordsmen quickly drew up behind Kheda in a guard that made up in grimness for what it lacked in polish. Tawai and the archers moved casually to one side, making sure they all had a clear shot at whoever disembarked from the newly arrived ship. There’s nothing like the unity that comes from having been in a battle together. I’ll settle for that, even if it isn’t inborn loyalty to me as their warlord. Kheda nodded to acknowledge the fast trireme’s shipmaster as the man splashed through the shallows to bow before him. Nyral.’

‘My lord.’ There was no hint of obsequiousness in the heavy-set mariner’s voice or in his brown face, with his long black beard plaited to a sharp point. He wore a Redigal dagger on his scarlet leather belt, just like the helmsman standing at his shoulder, one massive hand dwarfing the thin and tattered route record that he clutched. There was a strong resemblance between the two men: both had deep-set, circumspect eyes and tip-tilted noses, though something forceful had sent the helmsman’s all lopsided a few years ago.

‘What traffic have you seen since we left you to watch these sea lanes?’ Kheda demanded.

‘A Daish flotilla, my lord.’ The man’s confident answer was entirely unexpected. ‘A great galley escorted by two fast triremes and two heavy.’ Nyral shrugged, curly head canted arrogantly. ‘They flew the old pennants from Chazen Sari’s day but we didn’t feel inclined to try stopping them, did we, Banse?’ The helmsman cleared his throat. ‘I recognised the steersman of the galley and the shipmaster of one of the light triremes.’

‘I knew several of the swordsmen on the heavy triremes’ upper decks.’ Unbidden, the Thorn Circle’s rowing master joined them. Like the other men, he wore a sleeveless tunic and loose trousers of dirty white cotton. He wore the narrow double-edged dagger of the Aedis domain on his belt of plaited rainbow cords.

Aedis and Redigal rowers make up more than half the Thorn Circle’s crew. Even their carpenter’s from Ritsem Caid’s domain. What choice did I have? Chazen has few enough triremes left after all the invaders’ destruction and less than half the mariners needed to man them. And why shouldn’t I believe men seeking to better themselves by helping to rebuild Chazen when opportunities prove limited in the domains that bore them?

Kheda gestured towards Nyral’s dagger. ‘When you come back to the residence anchorage we should have Chazen knives for you all.’

‘Thank you, my lord.’ There was a marked lack of enthusiasm in the mariner’s voice.

‘It has always been my practice to reward loyalty.’ Kheda kept his face impassive despite noting a scowl fleet across the helmsman’s face. ‘As well as punishing laxity, naturally.’

‘My lord?’ Nyral looked puzzled but his henchmen’s expressions verged on insolent.

‘You have been lax, haven’t you, to allow these vermin to dig in like sand lice on a lizard too sluggish to move?’ Kheda gestured at the wretched captives now firmly bound hand and foot. ‘I don’t want to contemplate any alternative explanation.’

‘I’m not quite sure what you mean, my lord.’ Nyral’s words were polite but uncertainty hooded his eyes as he tried to work out his safest course here.

‘You’ve either been lax in your watch on these reaches or you’ve allowed these people to make landfall.’ Kheda shrugged. ‘What next? Will we find pirates preying on this pitiful domain, once you’ve let them spy out Chazen’s seaways?’

‘We’ve been patrolling the lesser channels, my lord,’ Nyral insisted with a hint of defiance.

Not very effectively, if this is any example of your diligence,’ countered Kheda calmly. ‘Have you built a full chain of beacons yet?’

‘We’ve done all we can but we need metal fire baskets, my lord,’ Nyral protested with every appearance of sincerity. ‘We daren’t set a blaze without one and the season grows drier every day.’

Which is one honest answer, at least. Itrac Chazen hai better add iron to the list of things she needs to trade for. The pearl harvest is going to have to be truly spectacular if she’s to secure half the things we need.

‘So if you haven’t been busy setting beacons, how do you explain your laxity in letting these vermin sneak past and make themselves at home?’ Kheda gestured towards the captives once again.

The Thorn Circle’s rowing master and helmsman slid each other dubious looks behind their shipmaster’s back.

‘We can’t be everywhere at once, my lord.’ Nyral shrugged broad shoulders with scant contrition. Kheda took a moment to pretend to consider this defence, looking past Nyral and his henchmen to the Thorn Circle’s side decks. The fast trireme’s rowers were surveying the carnage on shore, hearts close together in discreet deliberation.

Counting heads and realising that they’re outnumbered, as well as seeing that these men have had a taste of blood today. Besides, I am the warlord here. I’ve proved it in this fight

Does anyone really want to raise his sword against me and find no one follows his lead? ‘So you simply didn’t know these vermin were here?’ Kheda shook his head.

No, my lord,’ said Nyral with belated regret.

‘Yet you were close enough to hear our horns and come to see what was amiss?’ Kheda wondered, apparently puzzled.

‘A stroke of fortune, my lord.’ The boldness in Nyral’s voice ebbed away. ‘We came as fast as we could, to lend our strength to yours.’

The Thorn Circle’s rowing master and helmsman were looking past Kheda to the belligerent half-circle of the Mist Dove’s swordsmen with growing apprehension.

‘I’m glad of it.’ Kheda nodded. ‘And since you admit your dereliction, I am inclined to be merciful. You will merely be flogged and chained to an oar in the lowest bank of the Mist Dove until Shipmaster Shaiam is inclined to release you.’

Nyral’s face turned ugly and he took a pace forward before abruptly freezing.

Kheda took a step forward to match the shipmaster’s, gripping the man’s forearm so he couldn’t go for his knife and leaning close. ‘Do you want me to ask those new slaves if anyone recognises you and your ship? If they’ve paid for your blindness with loot or their women’s favours? I’ll get whatever answer I want and you can settle your account with your head. No one will lift a finger to save you.’ As he spoke, Kheda felt an unnatural tension in Nyral, the muscles cording his arm shuddering as if the man strained against invisible bonds. He looked the shipmaster in the eye and saw panic there instead of rebellion. Nyral’s jaw worked beneath his beard, the man struggling to speak even as his own mouth refused to obey him.

Dev, you disobedient, bloody-minded, lizard-eating barbarian.

As quick as that thought came to him, Kheda drew his own dagger and sunk it to the hilt into Nyral’s unprotected midriff. Pulling the mariner towards him, he drove the blade deeper and twisted it up behind the man’s ribs. Dev already had a drawn sword at the throat of the Thorn Circle’s helmsman and Shaiam had his own dagger levelled at the fast trireme’s rowing master. As Kheda stepped back, heartsick and withdrawing his dagger with remarkably little blood, Nyral collapsed dead to the damp ground. The other two men from the Thorn Circle dropped to their knees, arms outstretched, hands nowhere near their belt weapons.

‘You two can pay his penalty, for standing with him,’ snarled Shaiam. The Mist Dove’s swordsmen seized them, four or five to each unresisting man, and dragged them away. Bring me a lash!’ Shaiam bellowed as he stalked after them.

Everyone else retreated to leave Kheda and Dev isolated on the water’s edge.

‘I thought flogging was the sailmaster’s job, what with all that hauling on ropes to build the shoulders,’ Dev commented lightly. ‘Though I suppose Shaiam’s got the muscles to make a decent enough job of it.’

‘Why did you do that?’ Kheda glared at the wizard with discreet fury. ‘How could I let Nyral let live after you had wrapped him in the toils of some cursed enchantment?’

‘What was I supposed to do? Let that bastard cut your throat for you while the rest of us stood there with our hands down our trousers?’ Dev was unmoved. ‘Maybe you could have taken him in a fight. I’m no augur but I could see that turning into a battle that would leave this bead knee-deep in blood if the Thorn Circle’s men decided to make a fight of it. As long as I’m playing your body slave it’s my duty to keep you alive, and you know I’m no swordsman.’ Dev looked down at NyraPs lifeless body and poked it with one foot. ‘Anyway, what have you lost besides one half-competent and likely corrupt shipmaster? All these men have just seen you act with the resolution of an awesome warlord. That’s no bad trade for one life.’ The wizard turned from the corpse at his feet to speak softly into Kheda’s ear. ‘Besides, what are you going to do about it?’

‘I do not wish to rule these people through fear,’ said Kheda through gritted teeth.

‘And you can be as generous and kindly as you like when your rule is truly secure,’ Dev retorted. ‘In the meantime, settle for knowing that everyone hereabouts is cowed by your ruthlessness. Now we can sail back to the residence without worrying what’s going on behind our backs. After you’ve done whatever you people do to celebrate your new year, we can sail west.’

‘We’ll certainly sail west as soon as possible,’ Kheda assured him grimly. ‘I’ve decided I want every last mud-painted, feather-wearing savage dead. If you can learn anything that serves your purpose while we do it, that’s your affair.’

‘You’re finally talking about a proper campaign to hunt them out?’ Dev was openly surprised. No more of this slowly drawing a noose around them to see if thirst and heat can do the job for you?’

‘I can’t afford to keep those triremes in the west if we need our trade routes hereabouts guarded. We plainly can’t trust Nyral and his like and word of the pearl harvest will soon spread, especially if Daish galleys are finally risking these waters again. Come to that, I want to show Daish all the triremes we can muster until I know how the wind blows in that quarter.’

Kheda looked at the wizard, unsmiling. ‘So yes, it’s time to put an end to those last skulking invaders, even I if it does cost us Chazen blood. I’ll find another body slave from somewhere and you can go looking for whatever it is you think you’ll find among them. That should settle all accounts between us. As soon as they are all dead, you can sail north and lose yourself wherever you see fit. Then I can concentrate on looking to this domain’s future without the dubious benefit of your particular services.’