Journey into the Void (37 page)

The waterspout slid over the ocean waves, churning up water in its path, kicking up the clouds of sea foam and spray. The spout moved slowly toward the fleet's position, too distant to threaten any ship, but clearly visible to all.

Shamans aboard the ship of the Captain of Captains used their magical skills to shout orders that carried over the water to all ships of the line.

“They're being ordered to break off the attack,” said Shadamehr with satisfaction.

The waterspout continued to snake over the ocean. Several ships were already sailing away.

“You realize,” said Alise suddenly, “that our ship is going to go haring off along with all the rest. How do you plan to enter Krammes when we're five hundred miles away?”

“Damn!” Shadamehr swore. “I never thought of that. And my plan was so exceedingly brilliant! Strange I never noticed this minor flaw. Captain? Where's the bloody captain?”

Shadamehr went bounding across the deck, bumping into the rushing sailors, who muttered apologies and shoved him out of the way. Alise shook her head and smiled and sighed simultaneously.

A thundering shout came rolling across the water and slammed up against the ship. The mate responsible for communicating ship to ship answered with his own magically enhanced “halloo” and turned to report to Kal-Gah, just as Shadamehr came running up on the other side.

“Captain!” the mate said, with a salute. “We have orders to heave to. The Captain wants to speak to us.”

(The word “Captain” is the same for the captain of the ship and the great Captain of Captains, the leader of the orken nation. The manner in which the title is inflected indicates the difference.) Captain Kal-Gah shot a glance at Shadamehr.

“That is a very great honor,” Shadamehr said, relieved. They would not be leaving Krammes yet, apparently. “Or is it?” he asked, noting that the captain did not appear to be wildly enthusiastic.

Kal-Gah grunted. “Take your friends and get below. Keep out of sight.”

He began to shout orders so fast that his words clotted on his tongue.

“Seems a sound idea,” said Shadamehr.

Collecting Alise, he hastened back to their quarters, where he found Griffith in bed. He was not shamming now. He was exhausted after his spell-casting.

“Remarkable, Griffith!” said Shadamehr, going to shake hands. “Scared the bejeebers out of everyone, myself included. The orken fleet is fleeing hither and yon.”

“With one exception,” said Alise in ominous tones.

The elf lifted himself up on one elbow. “What's wrong? Did somebody suspect something?”

“Not that
I
could tell,” said Shadamehr.

Alise rolled her eyes.

“Then what's happening?” Damra demanded. “What's all the commotion.”

“We're heaving to. The Captain of Captains wants to have a word with our captain,” said Shadamehr.

“What does that mean?”

“I'm not sure. Kal-Gah thought it best if we removed ourselves from the premises.”

“Maybe she suspects our omen was a hoax,” Griffith said grimly.

“If that was the case, she wouldn't have let the other ships of the fleet leave,” Alise pointed out.

“Does she even know that humans and elves are on board?” Damra asked.

“Kal-Gah had a little chat with his fellow captain aboard that other ship when we first arrived,” said Shadamehr. “He might have kept the fact that he carried passengers secret—”

A knock sounded on their door.

“Captain's respects, and you're wanted up top,” said the cabin boy.

“Or he might not,” Shadamehr conceded.

 

“I have spoken to the Captain of Captains. She wants to meet you,” said Kal-Gah. “She is sending a boat to take you over to her ship.”

“You told her about us?” asked Damra.

“Of course,” said Kal-Gah, shrugging. “She is the Captain.”

The four looked at each other.

“I don't like this,” said Alise. “What if she is in league with Dagnarus? She might know all about us
and
what we carry!”

“I don't see that we have much choice,” Shadamehr said quietly.

As if to make his point, the orks on board the Captain's ship could be seen lowering a boat into the water.

“We could refuse to go,” Griffith suggested. “Kal-Gah likes us.”

“Kal-Gah could love me like a brother, but if the Captain told him to slit my throat, he'd be sharpening his knife.”

“An all-too-apt analogy,” said Alise.

“Sorry, but it's the best I could do on short notice. No ork would dare disobey the Captain of Captains,” said Shadamehr with finality. “I think we have two choices: We either climb into that boat or we try to swim to Krammes.”

The boat bumped alongside the ship. At Kal-Gah's order, his crew lowered rope ladders.

“What about the Sovereign Stone?” Damra asked softly, speaking in elven. “Will you take it with you or leave it here?”

“Take it with me, of course,” said Shadamehr. “I trust Kal-Gah, but orks have their own code of ethics that sometimes don't agree with ours. What about you?” he asked Damra.

“My part of the Stone is always with me,” she replied with a smile. “Safely hidden.”

“As is mine,” said Shadamehr. “Stuffed somewhere into the folds of time and space, according to Bashae.”

Kal-Gah came up to them. “The boat is here. You must not keep the Captain waiting.”

“We're eager to meet her, but I have to go back to the cabin to fetch something. A—a present for the great Captain,” said Shadamehr.

Captain Kal-Gah started to frown at the delay, but his frown cleared at the mention of a gift.

“A good idea,” he said.

“Now what am I going to give her?” Shadamehr muttered as he went clattering down the stairs that led belowdecks. Snatching up the knapsack, he grabbed one of Alise's pearl hair combs and was ready to toss it inside, when he saw something glittering at the bottom of the sack.

“Lord Gustav's amethyst ring,” he said, drawing it out. “The ring he told Bashae to take to his true love: I hope you won't mind, sir,” said Shadamehr, speaking respectfully to the spirit of the gallant knight, “but your true lover is going to stand six-foot-five and have fangs. I'd almost forgotten it was in there.”

He held the amethyst to the waning light. The sun glowed deep in the purple heart.

“Oh, no, you don't!” said Alise, bounding into their quarters. She snatched up her comb and thrust it defiantly in her hair. “I know the way your mind works. The minute Damra told me what you were up to, I knew you'd give my pearl comb to the ork.”

“I stand wrongfully accused,” said Shadamehr, wounded. “I'm going to give the Captain this.” He held up the ring.

“It won't fit,” said Alise. “Except maybe through her nose.”

“Still, I think she'll like it. I seem to recall hearing that orks value the amethyst, because they believe it protects them from the intoxicating effects of strong drink.” He thrust the ring back into the knapsack.

“She can always wear it on a chain around her neck,” suggested Alise.

“Excellent idea, my dear. It's why I keep you.” He kissed her on the
cheek, swiftly, before she could evade him. “That and for love of your red hair.”

“And my pearl comb,” she said, pushing him away. “Ulaf brought this comb all the way from Nimra and, no, you're not giving it to some ork.”

“Always best to have a fallback position, though,” Shadamehr muttered under his breath.

“I heard that!” said Alise.

 

Damra stared at the rope ladder dangling over the side of the ship and wondered how she was ever going to manage to descend the fragile-looking thing, especially with the ship riding up and down in the waves and the small boat bumping up against the hull. She was relieved to find out that she and the others would ride down in what was known as the “lubber's chair,” a contraption that looked very much like a child's swing attached to ropes.

She did not enjoy the ride, however. The lubber's chair twisted in the wind. The boat was far beneath her, and the orks who stood ready to catch her laughed and snickered and made crude jokes at her expense. They knew their business, however. The moment the chair came near, they grabbed her, hoisted her out of the chair, and flung her into the boat, leaving her gasping for breath and staring at the waves that had looked small from aboard the ship, but appeared mountainous now that she was down among them.

Alise came next and then Griffith, who caused the orks much amusement by riding down with his eyes tightly shut. He was unconcerned by their sneers, however. Shadamehr was last.

“Take away your lubber's chair,” he said with dignity, and, before Kal-Gah could argue some sense into him, Shadamehr was over the side and climbing down the rope.

Falling down the rope proved more accurate. He managed a few feet and then a wave came from out of nowhere, slapped against the hull, drenching Shadamehr and causing him to lose his grip. He tumbled backward into the arms of the orken sailors, who shook their heads and rolled their eyes and hustled him onto a seat. They began to row back to the Captain's ship.

“Must you always play the fool?” Alise demanded.

“I thought I would impress them with my seamanship,” said Shadamehr plaintively.

“You impressed them with something, that's for sure. Shadamehr,” she said, her voice changing. “What is Kal-Gah doing?”

Kal-Gah had been standing at the rail, watching them depart. Now, after a wave, he turned around and began shouting orders. Sailors ran up the lines, began to unfurl the sails and shake them out to catch the wind.

“He's leaving,” said Shadamehr.

T
HE GREAT CAPTAIN OF CAPTAINS WAS IN HER FIFTIETH YEAR.
Big-boned, with iron gray hair that she wore in one long braid, she looked to be part of the sea on which she'd spent her life. Her eyes were the color of the waves on a gray morning in winter. She rolled in her gait as the waves rolled onto shore. She wore around her neck a strand of seashells and shark's teeth. Golden earrings hung from her earlobes. She was dressed as any other orken sailor, in leather breeches and a loose-fitting shirt that bellied out with the wind like a sail. She was barefoot and bare-armed. All of her flesh that was visible was covered with tattoos of dolphins and seagulls, whales and starfish.

The trip in the small boat—sliding up waves and diving down into them—had been unsettling to elven stomachs. Both Damra and Griffith once again became seasick and could barely stand by the time they staggered out of the lubber's chair.

“Time for my notable charm,” said Shadamehr, rubbing his hands.

“It's worked so well so far,” said Alise caustically. “As I recall, in the past few weeks, you've been slapped, stabbed, and thrown overboard.”

“I fell overboard,” said Shadamehr with dignity.

“You might try to find out if we're guests or prisoners,” Griffith suggested. He was pale, but composed, feeling more at ease now that he was out of the small boat.

“You may not want to the know the answer,” said Shadamehr. “Shush, here she comes.”

The Captain of Captains strode across the deck, approached them without ceremony. She towered over them by a head and shoulders, stared down her nose at them. Her expression was stern, and the hard gray glint in her eye did little to make her guests feel at ease.

“Baron Shadamehr at your service,” he said, bowing. “Meeting the Captain of Captains is a very great honor.”

The Captain eyed him up and down and grunted. The feeling was obviously not mutual.

“Captain Kal-Gah told me about you,” she said. Her gaze flicked to the elves. “And them.”

“I have the pleasure of introducing Damra of Gwyenoc,” said Shadamehr. “Her husband, Griffith. This is Alise.”

The Captain eyed each in turn, her gaze long and penetrating.

“You are a wizard,” she said to Griffith.

“I have the honor to be one of the Wyred,” he replied.

The Captain switched the gray glint to Alise. “And you, as well.”

“I have some small skill in Earth magic,” Alise replied.

The Captain glanced from Alise to Shadamehr and back to Alise again. “Are you his woman?”

“No, I am not,” said Alise in frost-rimed tones.

“You are wise,” said the Captain.

Her voice was deep, but well modulated, not harsh, as are some orken voices. She spoke Elderspeak fluently, with a trace of an accent that Shadamehr recognized as Nimran. According to Kal-Gah, the Captain of Captains had grown up on a ship that sailed the trade routes between Nimra and the orken territories. Kal-Gah had provided little other information, except the fact that Captain was a widow, with grown children who were now sailing ships of their own. She had been Captain of Captains for twenty-five years. She was an orken hero, having sunk two Karnuan vessels and captured three more.

“Now that everyone has been introduced,” said Shadamehr, “I brought you this in honor of our meeting.”

He presented the Captain with the amethyst ring.

She took the ring—it seemed small as a child's christening ring in her huge hand—held it to the light and watched it sparkle.

“A good omen,” she said and deposited the ring in her capacious bosom.

“You're welcome,” said Shadamehr. “Now I was wondering if you could tell us why Captain Kal-Gah has departed in this sudden manner—”

“He left because of the bad omen,” said the Captain, frowning. “The waterspout.”

“Oh,” said Shadamehr, discomfited. “I see.”

The Captain's eyes narrowed. “The omens were good until you came among us. You brought a bad omen with you. Why is that?”

“Uh, no, you've got that wrong,” protested Shadamehr. “I didn't bring the bad omen. My omens are all good, as you can plainly see with the ring there. You could ask Kal-Gah. Well, you can't since he's left. But I didn't have a bad omen to my name the entire voyage. Same with my friends. Lucky, very lucky. All of us.”

“Perhaps I can provide a reason for the bad omen,” Griffith interjected smoothly. Now that he was on the ship's deck, which was far more stable than the cockleshell boat, he and Damra were starting to feel better. “It seems to me that it came because the gods are trying to tell you that you are attacking the wrong people. You should not be attacking Krammes. Your war is not with Vinnengael. Your war is with Karnu.”

“We would go to war against them,” the Captain growled. “If the sons-of-weasels would fight us on the open seas, ship to ship and man to man. The vermin hide behind the walls of their forts far inland, so that we have to march for days to reach them and then, instead of fighting a fair and honorable battle, they form into squares and columns and march this way and dash that way and come at us from all directions. We do not know how to fight on land.”

The Captain nodded in the direction of the city of Krammes, where thin tendrils of smoke could still be seen rising into the air. “I have heard that some of the best generals in all of Loerem are in Krammes. What do they call that place—a horse school?”

“Imperial Cavalry School,” said Shadamehr. “But ‘horse school' pretty well sums it up.”

The Captain glowered at him. “I was planning to ask them to help us learn how to fight our foe on land. How to deal with these columns of pikemen and hordes of archers and horses. We go to war to fight humans, not horses, yet that's what we're up against.”

She thrust her lower fangs—that had been filed to sharp points—over
her lip and nodded again toward Krammes. “As I said, I was going to ask for their help, then you came, bringing your bad omens.”

“But,” said Alise, confused, “you weren't asking for help. You attacked them. Set buildings on fire.”

“Yes?” said the Captain. “So?”

“You don't pummel someone you're going to ask a favor of—” Shadamehr began. His voice petered out, as he realized that it might, in fact, be an orken custom.

“Answer me this, Baron.” The Captain jabbed Shadamehr in the chest with her forefinger. “If I limped into this wonderful horse school of theirs, showing off my wounds and begging the horse teachers to help me, what would they say?”

“Well—” Shadamehr began.

“‘Wounded ork,' they would say in pity. ‘You are bleeding on our carpet. Please go away.'”

“I don't think—”

“I come to them wielding a fiery sword,” said the Captain with a fierce snort. “I want them to say, ‘These orks are fighters! Worthy of our teaching.' And then you come along,” she grunted, “and ruin it.”

“Could I confer with my colleagues for a moment?” Shadamehr asked. “Explain this to them? They don't speak orken.”

The Captain waved her hand, walked a few paces off.

“She does have a point, in a twisted sort of way,” Damra said.

“If you believe her,” said Griffith skeptically.

“I find it impossible to see how anyone could have thought up a lie like that,” Shadamehr said, sighing. He scratched his head. “I may have mucked up things rather badly.”

“Don't worry, dear,” said Alise, in soothing tones. “It's not the first time, and I'm sure it won't be the last.”

“My woman!” cried Shadamehr heartily, putting his arm around her and hugging her. “Such a comfort! I think I have a remedy, though.

“Captain,” Shadamehr called out. “I know many of the officers at the…er…horse school, and I think I could persuade them to help you. You and I could go ashore under a flag of truce and speak to them. Explain about the fiery sword and all that.”

The Captain eyed him narrowly. “Do you think they would listen to you?”

“I've donated quite a lot of money to the school over the years,” said Shadamehr. “I think they might listen to me. And to the great Captain of Captains, of course.”

“Humpf,” said the Captain, sucking her lower lip. “I will think on it.”

She folded her arms across her ample bosom, tilted back her head. “Captain Kal-Gah said he was taking you to Krammes. What business did
you
have there?”

“Sea voyage,” said Shadamehr promptly. “Good for our health.”

To his surprise, the Captain gave a great guffaw of laughter.

“So Kal-Gah said,” she said and, still laughing, she walked off.

 

The orks escorted the four to their quarters belowdecks, similar in all respects to their quarters aboard Kal-Gah's ship: four small cubbyholes built into the walls; a table on which some dried-out bread had been placed along with a slab of cheese, a bowl of water, and several crockery mugs.

“So what do you suppose Kal-Gah really told her about us?” Damra asked.

“Kal-Gah is a loyal friend, but an ork's first loyalty is to the Captain. We can safely assume he told her everything he knows,” said Shadamehr. “Which would include finding Alise and me half-dead and tainted with Void in the sewers of New Vinnengael. Cheese anyone? I think it's goat.”

“And he would have told her everything that happened at the keep,” Alise observed. She stood leaning against the door, glancing out every so often to make certain no one was eavesdropping. “Some of the orks on board the ship were with us at the keep. The arrival of Damra—an elf—traveling in company with a pecwae and a Trevinici was the talk of everyone there.”

“And we've never made a secret of the fact that Damra is a Dominion Lord,” said Griffith, exchanging glances with his wife.

“A lackwit could reach the conclusion that Bashae was carrying something of value in this knapsack,” said Shadamehr, throwing the knapsack on the bed and throwing himself after it. “Something so valuable that a Dominion Lord was guarding him. And while orks have their own way of thinking, they're certainly not lackwits. I don't trust this Captain.” He glanced at Damra. “Do orks have Dominion Lords these days? I know they did years ago.”

“If they do, 'Gra. The trouble began when they pet I haven't met any. They stopped attending the Council meetings after the fall of Mount Saitioned the Dominion Lords to assist them in recovering their mountain, and the Dominion Lords refused.”

“Why did they think they would help?” Shadamehr asked, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Because the orken portion of the Sovereign Stone is in Mount Sa 'Gra,” Damra replied.

“I see.” Shadamehr looked grave.

“Supposedly the Stone is safe and well hidden,” said Damra. “At least, that's what the orks told the Council.”

“But they still refused,” said Alise.

“We had good reason to,” Damra stated. “The duty of a Dominion Lord is to try to bring about peace between the races, not to join in a war with one race against another. We tried to explain that to the orks, but we didn't get very far. Their Dominion Lords walked out, and they haven't been back since.”

“Meanwhile, Dagnarus is exerting all his efforts to find the four parts of the Sovereign Stone. His Vrykyl have infiltrated governments of other races. I don't see any reason why the orks should be different. Which brings us back to our original theory that he has offered them to help take back Mount Sa 'Gra in return for attacking Krammes from the sea, keeping them busy while he marches overland.”

“I have to admit that makes more sense than giving the people of Krammes a bloody nose with one hand and offering to shake with the other,” said Griffith.

“Still,” argued Shadamehr, “there's a certain wonderful logic to that which I like.”

“So what do we do?”

“Nothing we can do,” said Shadamehr. Leaning back on the bed, he rested his head on his arms. “Keep the two Sovereign Stones safe and secure until we manage to reach Krammes—”

“Griffith,” said Alise suddenly, “wouldn't you like to wash your face?”

“Do I have dirt on it,” asked Griffith, startled. “Where—”

“Yes, it's filthy. Wash your face in that bowl of water,” Alise said urgently, pointing. “That nice, refreshing
bowl of water
…

“Ah!” cried Griffith. “Thank you for pointing that out to me.”

He grabbed hold of the bowl and hurled it to the deck. The bowl broke into pieces. Water splashed over his shoes and the hem of his robes.

Shadamehr sat up on the bed, staring. “Are you generally in the habit of smashing up the crockery?”

Griffith ignored him.

“I fell for that same trick when I was a student,” he said bitterly. “I had to live on nothing but water for a week to teach me the lesson. Obviously a week wasn't long enough.”

“If someone would explain—” said Shadamehr.

Alise bent down, picked up a piece of the bowl. “Do you remember that message Rigiswald sent to you? Quai-ghai looked into a bowl of water and she could hear—”

“—everything that other ork said to her,” finished Shadamehr. He came over to view the wreckage. “Well done, Alise, though you might have been a bit quicker on the uptake.”

“It looks harmless enough,” said Damra, carefully picking up another one of the crockery shards. “Maybe we're letting our fears run away with us. Is there any way you can tell for certain if they were using this to spy on us?”

“Not now,” said Griffith. “The spell has been dissipated.”

“What do we do?” Alise asked.

Shadamehr shook his head. “Nothing much we can do. We talked a lot about the Sovereign Stones, let any number of cats out of the bag. It's too late to go chasing after them. Are you positive it was you who created that waterspout, Griffith?”