The Crystal Seas

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Blade never wanted to take a worse sea voyage than the one from the Sea Masters' Reefs back to the Sea Cities of Talgar. Wind and weather kept them at sea nearly longer than their food and water supply could last. Two full-fledged storms nearly sent the battered, ill-equipped little scout boat to the bottom of the crystal seas. At least half of the nineteen freed prisoners with Blade were too badly wounded, too sick, or too apathetic to lift a finger to work the ship. Half of the remainder were energetic, to the point of being barely willing to recognize Blade's authority. He had to quell at least one near-mutiny by using his fists.

But four or five of the men proved loyal, willing, and able. Without them Blade had no doubt that the little ship would ever have made Talgar. As it was, they spent seventeen days at sea. Seventeen days, with Blade existing on a daily ration of a pint of water, three salt fish, half a pound of bread, and three hours' sleep.

Eventually they reached the South Channel and were hailed by the patrols. They were nearly sunk by the patrols too. The ships of Talgar seemed to Blade to be even more trigger-happy than usual. But the patrols did hold their fire long enough for Blade to identify and explain himself.

They put a guard aboard the ship, gave food and water, then towed it back to the Sea Cities.

Talgar seemed to be a land under siege. After Blade learned the details of the defeat of the great fleet, he could understand the feeling. He didn't like it, for it would make his own job more difficult. But he could not blame the people of the Sea Cities.

Of the ten thousand men that had sailed eastward aboard the great fleet, more than two thousand had never returned. Of the two hundred ships and boats, forty were gone. And because the losses had fallen upon the fighters of the Cities, the Cities were far more dangerous than they might have been otherwise. In barely two months the Sea Cities had lost nearly one-third of their first-line fighting men, thousands of civilians, and more than a hundred ships of various sizes. Their morale was shattered, their nerves taut, and their soldiers and civilians alike walked with one eye cocked behind them. There was an ugly feeling in the Sea Cities, and Blade knew that he would be happier when he was on his way to Nurn.

That took more time than he had expected. Officers of the Conciliar Guard thoroughly interrogated all the returned prisoners-to find out about conditions among the Fishmen, they said. But Blade suspected it was to find out if any of the returned prisoners had committed treason. There was a wide-spread conviction in the Cities that the two disasters must have involved treason somewhere, a conviction that bode very ill for the Conciliators, who were still in prison.

There was also one of Stipors' most notorious henchmen among the officers. Blade was careful to lead that man a merry chase down a dozen useless avenues of inquiry. Fortunately the officer was not a very good interrogator. But all this nonsense took time. By the end of a week Blade was ready to bite off all his fingernails and tear out all his hair in sheer frustration. He did not dare breathe a word of any of his plans to anyone except Krodrus. But he could not even ask to see Krodrus until the interrogation was finished.

Eventually it was, just in time to keep Blade from strangling several of the interrogators with his bare hands. Then he had to endure a round of feasts and drinking parties, laid on to greet the returning heroes. Blade was glad that the other returned prisoners had a chance to eat and drink their fill. But he himself ate and drank very lightly and kept a close watch on his own tongue and on anyone who tried to strike up a conversation with him. He had the feeling Stipors still suspected that something was wrong somewhere. The last thing he could afford to do was give the Autocrat for War any excuse to imprison him, or even prevent him from seeing Krodrus.

Eventually Blade got his private appointment with Krodrus.

He had somehow expected an undersized man like Krodrus to occupy an imposing office and sit on a raised dais behind a desk half the size of a tennis court. But Krodrus' office was barely larger than Blade's sleeping cabin aboard Green Mistress. His desk was a rickety little table half buried under stacks of papers and inkwells containing five different colors of ink. Krodrus obviously didn't need any props to build himself up. He knew what he was and what he could do and felt no need to impress anybody with either by artificial means.

The Autocrat sat quietly behind his desk while Blade explained what he wanted to do and what help he needed to do it. Except for the occasional flicker of his eyelids, Krodrus might have been the carved figurehead on the bow of a Talgaran ship.

Blade held nothing back, or almost nothing. He mentioned the possibility that the Fishmen might want to make peace, only as something he had guessed, from what he had seen in the Reefs.

«They've taken losses too, Financier. I would guess they've lost at least a thousand warriors, plus all the destruction. Not as much as we have lost, of course. But I imagine they'd find it cheaper to make peace, if we offered them reasonable terms.»

Krodrus said nothing.

Blade did not mention Alanyra. Still less did he mention the fact that Alanyra and certain of her picked warriors were going to be helping him on his mission to Nurn. If he went.

«My Lord Autocrat,» Blade finished. «What I ask is something strange, I admit. But it is dangerous only to me, at least for now. If I am willing to run these dangers to help Talgar find peace and perhaps freedom from Nurn, can I ask your help?»

There was a long and, to Blade, exceedingly chilly silence in the dark and musty little room. Blade stared intently at Krodrus, trying to make out some expression on the brown and wrinkled little face.

He was trying to read the unreadable.

The silence stretched on, until Blade began to find it difficult to breathe because of the tension growing in him. And on. Now Krodrus wasn't even blinking. His dark eyes stared back at Blade, as motionless and expressionless as those of a snake.

Then the Autocrat took in a breath, and said, «What sort of help will you need?»

Blade in his turn let out a breath. He flexed muscles that had suddenly become cramped, and swallowed to get the dryness out of his throat. Then he gave the list that he had long since settled in his own mind. A small, fast ship, well-equipped and well-armed, with a small crew completely loyal to him and equally adept at fighting and seamanship. A reasonable sum in gold. Unquestionable credentials as an arms buyer for the Autocracy of Finance of the Sea Cities.

«I see you've thought this out well in advance,» said Krodrus. «Good. I was afraid I might be sending you to your death.»

«I have often done this sort of work before,» said Blade. «One learns much in traveling far.»

«One does. I wonder exactly how far you have traveled,» said Krodrus. He seemed to be speaking half to himself. Then, briskly, «How many men will you need?»

«Ten or twelve. I can act as my own captain, but I'll need a good mate. If he's available, I'd like Gershon-the one I defeated on the Council House steps the day of the riot. He'll be loyal to me, I'm sure, so I can let him pick the rest of the crew himself.»

«I will have word sent to the Registrar of Sailors,» said Krodrus. «I hope for your sake and the sake of the Sea Cities that he can indeed be trusted. Stipors would pay well to learn of this mission, and I think even better to foil it.»

«You think he is behind the war, perhaps?»

«He favors it because it favors some plans of his own. If I knew what they were- But one cannot go about accusing one's fellow Autocrats, unless one has proof of great wrongdoing. Not now. I do not think that he himself is the game player you believe in. I think you are right that there is one, but I also agree with you that he is most likely in Nurn.»

«Have you any idea who he might be?» asked Blade. «If I can guide my search-«

The Autocrat shook his head. «There are any of half a dozen great nobles who might be ambitious in this direction. To break the power of both the Sea Cities and the Fishmen and make them vassals of the Empire would be much to his credit. Perhaps he might even think to set up his creatures to rule over both people, and then turn them into a base for his own power. In such a case he might be aiming at the throne of Nurn itself.»

Intrigues piled upon intrigues, it seemed. But this was normal, in any dimension. «Thank you, Lord Krodrus. I hope to be back within two months with at least some of the answers.»

«You would do well to be back sooner, if you can.»

Krodrus's face clouded. «Stipors is speaking of trying the Conciliators for treason. If matters come to a trial, I am sure they will be convicted, and if convicted, they will die. If you can return in time-«He let the sentence die unfinished.

It was a hot airless summer dawn, with a low heat haze over the glassy sea. The scout boat Sea Fox drifted aimlessly, her sails flapping monotonously against her mast.

Gershon saluted as Blade came up from the tiny captain's cabin aft. «Mornin', sir. Put the men to the sweeps?»

Blade shook his head. «Not much sense in that. We'd have everybody worn out inside of two hours.»

«I know, sir. But supposin' the Fishmen were about-?»

«All the more reason for keeping everybody fresh. We've got little enough chance if they attack as it is.»

Gershon saluted again and went forward. Blade leaned against the railing, hands clasped behind his back, and looked up. The white-painted mast and yard showed clearly from the deck. That was the identifying sign he had agreed on with Alanyra. And here they were, within two miles of the rendezvous. Damn that haze! If Alanyra's little company couldn't find Fox before some other less friendly group of Sea Master raiders did- Blade swung himself into the rigging and hauled himself hand over hand up to the crow's nest. He might not be able to see much better up there. But at least he wouldn't be able to pace up and down the deck until someone asked him what he was so worried about!

An hour passed, then another. Sea Fox rocked gently to the swell. Small sounds floated up from her deck-voices, a bucket dropped with a clatter, the banging of the pump as it worked to keep the bilge dry. Not much needed for that-Fox was a tight, well-found little ship. Also, appropriately named for the mission she was on, thought Blade. He looked down again and realized that the sun was beginning to burn off some of the haze.

Then a shout from the stern made him spin around. A hundred yards dead astern the head of a yulon broke the water. Blade stared. It was a tame one. He could see the harness. But did that mean-?

Gershon was already beating the signal drum for battle call, and the crew was dashing about, snatching up their weapons. Blade flung himself into the rigging and scrambled monkeylike back down to the deck. As he reached it, the head of the yulon sank slowly out of sight. No sign of any of the Sea Masters with it.

Gershon was cursing under his breath as Blade came up to him. «We should never ha' come with such a small crew, Cap'n. Now we're all in trouble.»

«Perhaps,» said Blade. «It depends on how many of them there are.» And also on who they are, he added silently.

Howls of fear rose from Fox's deck a moment later, as the head of the yulon rose from the water again almost alongside. But another head rose beside it, high-cheeked, elfin, green-haired, with a broad smile on the full lips, and red jewels glittering in the green hair. Blade waved a hand in greeting-then struck Gershon's crossbow to the deck as the mate raised it to fire at Alanyra.

Gershon let out an oath and drew his dagger. Blade stepped back until he had the railing and the sea behind him, then dropped into fighting stance. «Hold, Gershon! If you have any faith in me, let me speak. And make the rest of the crew let me speak too. Otherwise we shall all die, and so will many others-all for nothing.»

Gershon's eyes narrowed sullenly, but he growled agreement. One of the other sailors sprang forward, knife raised. As he did, Gershon spun around and drove an enormous, sun-browned fist into the man's stomach, then chopped down with the other hand on his right wrist. The man folded in the middle, sat down on the deck, and tried to ease his tingling wrist and throw up his breakfast at the same time.

Blade was relieved. For the moment at least Gershon's loyalty held. He began to speak, in a low, firm, urgent voice. He left out nothing except his relations with Alanyra, nothing at all that was needed to explain the situation to the crew.

He could not be sure for a long time that they were listening to him, still less believing him. To have the idea of friendship with the Fishmen sprung on them this way would have stunned better minds than those of the sailors'.

But eventually Gershon sheathed his dagger. His brown face split in a rueful grin. He shook his lead, so that his pigtail swung from side to side. «Well, may the Goddess strike me dead if I foreswear my friendship with ye, Cap'n Blade. I make no promises to like this new friendship, mind ye. But the Fishmen'll have naught to fear from me or any man aboard Fox, long as we've naught to fear from them.»

Blade nodded and smiled. «Fair enough.» It was as much as he could hope for at the moment. But it was also enough.