Pirates Of Gohar

Chapter 11

Blade's first night with Fierssa wasn't the last night he went short of sleep while in Gohar. He now found himself dealing with two women who liked his company in bed, two political conspiracies, all his public social activities, and the normal daily routine of eating, sleeping, bathing, and going to the toilet.

To make matters worse, he had to be careful not to let Princess Elyana know anything about his dealings with Fierssa and the Friends of Mythor, or give Fierssa any idea he was on intimate terms with Princess Elyana. Both women hated Kloret, but otherwise Blade couldn't be sure they'd have much in common. Elyana wanted to learn about the rebels, but she could hardly want to help them against her own husband. Fierssa already knew about the rebels, and wanted to get Blade on their side.

There was also the matter of jealousy. Very few people were completely immune to it, and Blade doubted that either Fierssa or the princess were among these few. When he was sleeping with more than one woman at a time, Blade always preferred to say too little rather than too much.

Fortunately he and Fierssa weren't able to get together often enough to require explanations to Elyana, or as often as the girl would have liked. There weren't enough safe places for them to meet, and even Fierssa admitted this. «I'm not going to put my friends in danger just to have more fun in bed,» she said.

«Good for you,» said Blade. Half the time Fierssa seemed as naive and foolish as a child about what she was doing. The other half she seemed as thoroughly clear-headed as anyone could ask. She was a strange mixture of child and woman, and if she lived long enough for the woman to replace the child, the Friends of Mythor might have the leader they needed. How desperately they needed such leadership was clear after his first meeting with them. They had plenty of courage, but were short of practically everything else.

It was also clear that he was going to have to get to Mythor as soon as possible. Ideally, he should be ready to leave as soon as he'd met with the rebel envoys and found out who to meet in the south. Any unnecessary delay could be an open invitation to trouble from the Prime Minister.

It was the wrong season for a swift voyage to the south, so Blade's choices would be limited. Degyat's galley squadron was already at sea, and might not be back for weeks. Blue Swallow had returned with her load of timber and might be making an out-of-season voyage to Mythor, but Blade was reluctant to drag Captain Nemyet into his affairs. The captain might already be a marked man in Kloret's eyes, and any further involvement with Blade could put him in real danger.

Eventually Blade decided to put the whole matter before Elyana, so that if all else failed she could ask her husband's help. Before he could arrange the necessary meeting with the princess, events suddenly moved completely out of his control.

It was announced that His Radiance Thrayket IV had taken to his bed. A congestion of the chest and a fever, said the official report. There was no need to fear. The less official and almost certainly more reliable word said that Thrayket was never going to rise from his bed, and might leave it in his shroud within a few days.

Two days after that, Blade met Fierssa and learned that she'd arranged the meeting with the envoys of the Mythoran rebels for the next night.

«There's a beach north of Berkyut's Tomb. Do you know where that is?»

«No.»

«Well, then. Meet me here at the first night hour, and we'll go together.» She kissed him, drew the hood over her face again, and hurried off.

Blade was reasonably certain nobody trailed him to his rendezvous with Fierssa, but this wasn't much comfort. He doubted if Kloret wasted any time or men trailing him now. It would be so much easier to keep a watch on the Friends of Mythor and let them act as bait for larger fish. Blade had shown that he had both skill and determination in covering his tracks, while the Friends had neither.

Even less reassuring was the complete absence of any official news about the Emperor's health. This almost certainly meant Thrayket was so sick that it was no longer safe to tell the truth. Blade would be very surprised if the maneuvering for position, which always follows the death of a king, hadn't already begun. Everybody would be doing it, whatever faction they supported. The only consolation was that Kloret might now be too busy watching his own back to watch anyone else.

«On the other hand, he might think no one is watching him, so he can strike freely,» Blade told Fierssa, as they walked along the shore. A mile ahead, the chopped-off black pyramid of Berkyut's Tomb was fading into the twilight. Beyond the trees on the other side of it was the beach where they'd meet the rebel envoys.

«I couldn't say,» she replied. «Father's told me even less than usual. That might be a good sign. When things are going well for him, he always boasts. If he's silent…»

She seemed to be taking some comfort from this reasoning, and Blade didn't feel like pointing out its faults. She was dressed as a man, so he couldn't take her hand as they walked. Side by side, they tramped across the hard-packed beach sand, rounded the base of the dune where the tomb stood, and climbed up through the trees. By the time they came out on the beach beyond, it was nearly dark.

As they descended the slope, slipping and lurching in the loose sand, a cluster of dark shapes rose from the sand to their right.

«Mythor,» said someone.

«Shall,» replied Fierssa.

«Be,» from another shape.

«Free,» said Fierssa.

A lantern glowed yellow, and Blade saw three faces he recognized from the Friends of Mythor, two young men and a girl. Four others must be the rebel envoys. Mythorans were slightly darker than Goharans from exposure to the fiercer southern sun, and the men were usually clean-shaven.

Blade stepped forward to greet them. As he took his third step a sharp voice rose behind him, drowning out the wind and the sea and freezing him in midstride.

«Stop, traitors to Gohar!»

It was Kloret's voice.

Each of the «traitors» reacted at his own speed. Blade was the fastest, the four rebels next, and the Friends of Mythor a bad last.

Blade whirled, drawing his sword and shielding Fierssa. The four envoys also drew their swords, looked up and down the beach, then as if they'd been one man sprinted off toward the west. Before Blade could take two deep breaths the Mythorans were out of sight in the darkness. They must also have been out of sight from above, because Blade heard Kloret's voice again, sharp and angry.

«Don't waste arrows, you fools! Some of you go after them. The rest come with me.»

Two lanterns glowed, showing half a dozen armed men dashing off after the Mythorans. The rest followed Kloret down onto the beach. Five of them were archers, with arrows nocked and ready to shoot. Blade estimated the chances of doing anything, and decided that they weren't good. In fact, the chances of doing anything except taking Kloret with him were small, and he'd have to pick the right moment for that.

Even waiting and watching would still help gain time for the Mythorans. As long as Kloret was dealing with Blade and the Friends, he might not send more men after the rebels. In the darkness, the Mythorans could probably evade or kill the ones on their trail now.

So Blade stood quietly, letting the Prime Minister's men disarm him. It was unfortunate that Goharan clothing didn't provide any secure hiding places for knives, but that couldn't be helped. The soldiers were carrying plenty of weapons, and some of them would certainly be within easy reach when he decided to strike.

Two of Kloret's men stood behind Blade with drawn swords and two others covered him with their bows while their comrades went to work on the Friends of Mythor. The two men and the girl were stripped naked and their hands tied behind their backs. The men were dragging Fierssa forward to strip her when Kloret raised a hand.

«No. Leave her to me.»

So Fierssa had her hands tied, but otherwise she was left alone. She stood just behind her father, head bowed, eyes closed, face pale and sweating. She seemed as much ashamed at being protected by her father as she was afraid of what might come.

With driftwood and branches, the Prime Minister's men built a fire and tossed the clothing from the stripped prisoners into it. The three exchanged uncertain looks, and Blade saw them fighting hard for self-control. They thought the burning of their clothing meant they wouldn't be leaving the beach alive. They were probably right.

However, Blade might have some influence, and if he did he'd better use it now while everybody was still in one piece. «Kloret,» he said sharply. One of the swords pricked him in the back, then the Prime Minister raised his hand again.

«A moment. Yes, Blade?»

«What have these people done?»

For a moment Kloret looked as though he suspected Blade's sanity, then he laughed. «Does it matter to you, Blade?» Before Blade could think of an answer, Kloret went on. «If you don't know what they've done, why should you worry about their punishment? But I think you're lying. I think you know exactly what they've done and that's why you're here with them. So you're as guilty as they are. If we can't learn what we need to know from them-«

At this point the courage of one of the young men broke. He threw himself on the sand as close to the Prime Minister as he could get, sobbing and desperately twisting his bound hands. The other two Friends stood close together, the girl swallowing hard and the man trying to comfort her with looks only. Blade remembered that they were lovers.

Eventually the young man ran out of breath. Kloret gave another hand signal, and one of the guards stepped over to the young man and straddled him. Then he rammed his spear down through the young man's body, so hard it pinned him to the beach like a butterfly on display. The scream he let out was something out of a nightmare. The young woman would have collapsed if her lover hadn't moved so she could lean against him.

Kloret swept the other prisoners with his chilly eyes. «He's going to die slowly, but you'll die even more slowly if you don't answer my questions.»

«Kloret,» Blade snapped. «You're right. It doesn't matter what these people have done. At least it won't matter to you, when the Emperor learns about this. You'll lose your office for amusing yourself this way, and if the Emperor-«

«Which Emperor, Blade?» said Kloret. Again he laughed. It was the most discouraging laugh Blade had ever heard. It hinted at all sorts of secret knowledge that made him the complete master of the situation.

Kloret shook his head. «I doubt if Thrayket will ever learn about anything. He's dead.» Fierssa jumped as if she'd been stabbed, and Blade found it harder than usual to keep his own self-control. «As for Harkrat-Blade, I think you know better than to hope he'll be in a position to take any vengeance for you, let alone these worms here.»

He faced the two Friends. «My daughter has already told me a good deal of what I want to know-«

«That's a lie!» Fierssa shouted. One of the spearmen drove the butt of his weapon into the small of her back. She gasped and fell to the ground.

«You didn't make things any easier for your friends or for yourself,» Kloret told his daughter. Then he turned back to the others. «I need to know certain things about the work of the Friends. First, who were those traitors who ran off into the darkness?»

The two lovers looked at each other. Blade was silent. If Thrayket was dead and Harkrat was likely to be blackmailed into silence by the threat of revealing his secret there wasn't much to be done. His own chances of survival were not going to be particularly good, and the Friends of Mythor were doomed. He'd better keep his mouth shut, since every time he opened it seemed to put a greater strain on the desperate courage of the Friends. There wasn't much left for them except to die with dignity, so he could at least let them do that.

In the end, Blade's keeping silent didn't make much difference to the lovers. Nobody could have died with dignity after what Kloret had done to them. He kept at them even after it was obvious they weren't going to talk, and then until they couldn't talk, only scream. Even after they could no longer scream the work went on, with steel and fire and cords and bare hands. It didn't stop until life was gone and the two lovers were sprawled in the middle of a patch of foul and bloody sand.

Blade felt himself sweating in spite of the chilly sea breeze, and Fierssa was obviously staying on her feet only by a heroic effort. Blade still had one faint hope. The screams of the two lovers must have been audible a mile away. Perhaps Kloret's rank or his armed guards could drive off any inquisitive passers-by. But perhaps not, and in any sort of a fight or confusion, Blade and Fierssa might at least have a chance to escape. They'd be fugitives in a Gohar sliding steadily toward civil war, but that was better than ending up sprawled on the sand like the two Friends.

Then out of the darkness to the west came a gurgling cry. The sound was barely human, and after the nightmare of the last hour it was possible to believe it wasn't human at all.

Some vengeful ghost or monster from the depths of the sea could be on the prowl, awakened by the screams.

Then the cry came again, and with it the sound of shuffling footsteps. A third cry, and a lurching human figure appeared on the edge of the firelight. Two guards ran up to it and dragged it closer.

It was one of Kloret's guards, one arm dangling useless while he used the other to press together a gaping wound in his stomach. His face was a mask of dried blood from a deep scalp wound.

Kloret stepped forward. «What happened?»

Lips moved under the blood. «The-traitors. Caught us-got out-and-I'm only-one-«

Fierssa gave a cry of delight and Blade felt like shouting himself. So the Mythorans were not only clean away, but they'd killed all but one of the men sent after them. And if they'd got away, they might be able to call friends and-

Kloret stepped close to the guard, then his sword was in his hand. The firelight danced along the steel as he raised it over his head, then slashed downward. The guard collapsed onto the sand, his skull split open.

Before Kloret could turn away from the corpse, Fierssa moved. She leaped forward, her hands free and reaching for the knife on Kloret's belt. She snatched it, struck with all her strength at her father's back, and screamed in rage as the knife point struck metal and leather under his robe. Kloret turned, shouting for the guards, his sword raised to strike. A second time Fierssa was too quick. She pressed the point of the knife against her ribs, then flung herself to the ground, driving the knife into her body. She writhed and kicked for a moment, then relaxed in death as Kloret bent to roll her over.

The Prime Minister stood up, and the look on his face made Blade quite sure his last moment was here. With that matter settled, he found it easy to concentrate all his attention on finding a way to take Kloret with him. Death would put an end to all the man's plans, and- if Blade could no longer save himself or the Project, he could at least save-

Fire exploded in Blade's head, as something heavy smashed down on his skull. The fire spread and swelled, blinding him as he fell, then swamping all his other senses so that he barely felt the sand grains against his skin.

At last the fire turned into blackness, and the blackness swallowed Blade.