Red Tide (44 page)

Oh, the indignity.

A grunt sounded from the courtyard, and there was a collective intake of breath from the spectators. Alas, Romany had moved out of sight of the duelists, and thus had no idea what the gasp signified. As she and Uriel rounded a corner, she sensed the boy's gaze on her, but when she glanced down he looked away. Then he looked back at her again, his expression showing puzzlement and earnestness in equal measure. The resemblance to his half sister was quite striking in that instant. He opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to think better of it. Probably working up the courage to ask her for a story. Romany would have to go back to her room for that book on Augera, that was sure to send him to sleep.

Uriel looked at her again.

Here it comes.

“Why do you wear that mask?” he said at last. “Is it because you're very ugly?”

*   *   *

“Here he comes,” Noon said.

Amerel looked up to see Caval making his way toward them along the alley leading to the harbor. Dressed in midnight blue, and with his power engaged, he was little more than a tremor in the darkness. He'd been gone for a quarter-bell, and Karmel's relief at his return was evident in her slowly released breath.

Caval's voice was a whisper over the gurgle of water entering the pool from the underwater aqueduct. “There's no doubt about it, the stone-skins are preparing to pull out. The waterfront is crawling with them.”

Amerel swore. She'd feared as much on the journey through the city when they had only to evade a dozen patrols. She wiped sweat from her brow. “Any ships leaving
now
?”

“No, they're still making preparations. Though I did see one ship come in to dock before immediately casting off again.”

Meaning this withdrawal was not in the stone-skins' original script. Meaning something, somewhere, had happened to make the Augerans change their plans. And Amerel was willing to bet that that “something” spelled trouble for Erin Elal. “Jambar never warned you of this?”

Caval looked at Karmel, then said, “No. He told us we'd have days, if not weeks, before the fleet moved.”

Noon spoke. “Could it be the Rubyholters? Could the stone-skins have got wind of an attack?”

Amerel shook her head. Even if the Islanders had teamed up for a retaliatory strike, how big a force could they assemble at such short notice? Big enough to set the stone-skins running with their tails between their legs? The Guardian doubted it.

A cloud of needleflies swarmed about her, and she waved a hand at them. “What's the story with this blayfire oil we can smell?” she asked Caval. It had been burning her nostrils for the last half-bell. “Are the stone-skins getting ready to fire the Rubyholt ships?”

“If they are, they're not going to do it while their own ships are here.”

Noon said, “So what's to stop us striking the flint now?”

“Nothing,” Caval replied. “But if you did so, there's no guarantee you'd send the stone-skin ships up in flames with the Rubyholt ones. The Augerans have got water-mages, remember? Difficult to make a fire spread when there are water-mages about.”

Karmel said, “So what now?”

Amerel's voice was iron. “We go through with the original plan.”

The priestess stared at her. “You're serious? Did you miss the part where Caval said the waterfront is crawling with stone-skins?”

“So we do this carefully. But we do it now. In a bell's time, the chance will have gone.”

“If we do it carefully, we'll be lucky to mark a couple of ships before they leave.”

“But a couple might still lure the dragons. And when they come, with luck they'll take down not just the marked ships but the rest of the fleet too.”

Karmel looked unconvinced. “What about the plan B we discussed at the boneyard? Why don't we tip the blood in the harbor—”

“No,” Amerel cut her off. “You said it yourself, if we do that the dragons will come here rather than to wherever the Augeran fleet is.”

“Maybe to start with. But they'll get round to the stone-skins eventually.” Then Karmel's eyes widened in understanding. “Except you're worried about where the fleet is heading
now,
aren't you? You think it's going for Erin Elal, not the League.”

Before Amerel could respond, Caval said, “Even if we mark the ships, it'll be days before the blood draws the dragons. It's nearly two weeks since Dragon Day, so most of the creatures will be back in the Southern Wastes. There's no way they're going to get here before the stone-skins reach wherever it is they're heading.”

“Maybe,” Amerel said. “But maybe it'll take the Augerans longer than we expect to sail through the Isles. Or maybe there's a dragon nearby that hasn't made the trip south yet.”

“That's a long ‘maybe' to risk getting caught over.”

Amerel couldn't disagree. And if the roles were reversed, there was no way she would have been persuaded to gamble her life. But then the Chameleons didn't have the Will to help with the persuading. She gathered it now and turned it on Karmel.

“We knew what we were getting into from the start,” she said to the priestess. “We knew how many stone-skins would be here. So what if they're all at the harbor? That just means we had an easy ride getting through the city. Got to take the rough with the smooth.” She lowered the pitch of her voice, gave it that rhythm she used when she lulled Lyssa to sleep. “The stone-skins are busy pulling out. They won't be expecting trouble. And as for hitting the ships without someone noticing, it's just a matter of picking the right targets. I saw close to twenty stone-skin ships dock. There must be some that aren't as well guarded as the others.”

It wasn't working. Karmel looked about as convinced by Amerel's words as the Guardian was herself. Amerel needed to try something else—keep changing the point of her attack until she found what would work as a hook.

“We have to do this,” she said. “We
have
to. Maybe the stone-skins are going to hit my people, maybe they're going to hit yours, it doesn't matter. Either way it'll be a bloodbath.” Her voice was smooth as honey. “They've got Rubyholt guides now. They can strike anywhere they like on the Ribbon Sea coast, or along Erin Elal's eastern seaboard. Even at Arkarbour. The people there aren't ready. They don't have bells to warn them what's coming. If you think the slaughter's bad now, wait until the stone-skins sack Arkarbour. It's ten times the size of Bezzle. We'll be able to watch the bodies pile up from here.”

Still no give in Karmel. The priestess seemed to be looking through Amerel rather than at her. Karmel opened her mouth to speak, but the Guardian plunged on. If appealing to the woman's reason wasn't getting her anywhere, she'd have to up the ante. “Please,” she said, stepping closer. “I have a niece in Arkarbour. Her name's Lyssa. She's only six. Her mother—my sister—died a year ago. She's all I have left.” Another step. “Please. She's the only reason I'm here. I can't lose her now. Maybe it's already too late for her, but I have to try. This is the only way. This could be her only chance.”

Karmel said nothing. She held Amerel's gaze before looking at Caval. Her expression hadn't changed, but there was a vulnerability in her eyes. Caval stared back at her. The Guardian counted herself good at reading people, but she had no idea what their shared look meant. Maybe the Chameleons didn't know themselves. As the heartbeats dragged out, Amerel took a breath. Damn this heat! Sweat poured off her, making her spider bites itch. It seemed madness that they should be standing here arguing, when the stone-skins could stumble on them at any instant. Amerel forced herself to remain still, though, sensing the Chameleons' decision wavered on a knife-edge.

When Karmel at last turned toward the Guardian, Amerel still couldn't guess what her decision would be. If the answer was no, Amerel would kill the Chameleons, take the blood, and carry on alone. She wanted to signal Noon to be ready, but she dared not take her gaze from Karmel. Her hand drifted toward her sword hilt.

Then the priestess nodded and turned away.

Amerel watched the Chameleons shoulder their packs and head silently toward the waterfront. Just two more shadows amid all the others. The Guardian could feel Noon's gaze on her, and she looked across. The Breaker was frowning at her like she'd set him a riddle he couldn't fathom.

She leaned in close and whispered, “That was easy.”

 

C
HAPTER
15

C
AVAL PUSHED
open the back door to the house and moved through, clearing the way for Karmel to follow behind. Once inside, she closed the door and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dark. She was in a room that made up the entire ground floor. There were flies everywhere, weaving through the murk. On the opposite wall was a window. Its shutters were closed, but through the gaps between the bars came strips of light that left bright scratches on the north-facing wall. The other side of the room was veiled in blackness. Karmel watched for any shift in the consistency of the gloom that might indicate movement.

Nothing.

She drew a throwing knife. Its hilt felt slick against her palm. The house smelled of wood smoke and mirispice. From outside came the rattle of bonechimes stirred to life by the breeze, the thud of a hull bumping into a quay—the hull of Karmel's target, most likely—then above that a
drip, drip
as of water from a leaky roof.

That was when she saw it: a pool of liquid—blood?—at the center of the floor. There was a stain on the ceiling above. Karmel's breath stuck in her throat. She looked at Caval, and he nodded to indicate he'd spotted it. If the blood was wet enough to drip, it must have been spilled recently. Karmel strained to hear any noise that might indicate someone was upstairs. A creak sounded. Probably just one of the beams settling down for the night, since it was unlikely that a stone-skin was up there taking a nap.

They'd be finding out soon enough. There was no way they could unbolt the downstairs shutters without alerting the stone-skins on the waterfront, so they'd have to try their luck upstairs. To Karmel's right, a wooden staircase led up to a square of paler gloom in the ceiling. Caval moved toward it. Karmel waited until he reached the bottom, then followed. Scattered across the floor were potsherds and splinters of wood from a smashed chair, and the priestess lifted her feet high before placing them down again so as not to kick something across the ground. For a moment she was back training in the temple, stepping over pieces of glass in the courtyard as she closed on the acolyte at its center.

Drip, drip.

She drew up alongside Caval, wishing she could see in his face even a trace of her own apprehension. His expression, though, was quiet, as if he'd done this before many times. All those occasions he'd gone missing from the temple when she was younger, were they for missions such as this? Each time he'd returned, he had changed a little from the person who had left. The priestess was only now seeing the effect of all those differences put together, and realizing she didn't know what they added up to. He'd never spoken about his experiences, and she had never asked. Just one more thing they would have to put right if they got out of this alive.

Caval climbed the steps and drew up when his head came level with the ceiling. With his power employed, he would be invisible to anyone lying in wait. He scanned the room above.

Outside, the bonechimes clattered again.

Drip, drip.

Earlier Karmel and Caval had discussed what they would do if they were interrupted before they could shoot the dart. At the time Karmel had felt reassured to think they were ready for all eventualities. When you boiled it down, though, their plans amounted to no more than hide or run if they could, fight if they couldn't—and
then
hide or run. While hoping the Erin Elalese, waiting somewhere out back, had something to contribute beyond showing them a clean pair of heels.

Voices sounded on the waterfront, along with the measured tread of an Augeran patrol. As the soldiers' footsteps died away Karmel swung her gaze to Caval. He beckoned to her, then headed up the last of the stairs and out of sight.

Karmel started climbing. The steps were smeared with blood, and she kept to the outer edges where the boards were unstained. The buzzing of the flies rose from a hum to a drone.

Upstairs consisted of a single room too, with windows looking out onto the harbor. Unlike downstairs, the shutters were open. A breath of air alerted Karmel to the broken pane of glass before she saw it. Light from a torch on the waterfront reflected in the panes, making it seem as if flames licked at the glass. Against the south-facing wall was a bed covered in blood-speckled rushes, and beside it was a pool of blood and viscera. Karmel could smell the stink of it even over the blayfire fumes. A woodcutter's ax was buried in the wall next to the bed. Not the weapon of a stone-skin soldier. Evidently the house's former occupant had taken a swing at one of his attackers before being cut down.

Karmel's fingers were cramping from their grip on her knife, so she sheathed the weapon before joining Caval at the window. Outside she saw the stone-skin ship that was their target, tied up along the waterfront to her left. In the darkness, the cordage hanging between its masts and spars looked like the threads of some vast spider's web. Figures moved on deck, and lights shone from the windows at the stern.

On the waterfront itself stood two black-cloaked Augerans. A stone's throw to Karmel's left, and moving farther away, was the patrol that had just walked past. To the north, more figures milled about on the quays, and Karmel heard the rattle of a gangplank, the rumble of rolling barrels. The stone-skins were preparing to withdraw, no question. But for now, the section of waterfront immediately outside the house was quiet.