Red Tide (9 page)

Unless, of course, they'd wanted the confrontation.

Above the headland Galantas could see the topsails of two vessels. Their rigging had been torn loose in places, and there seemed to be something—no, some
things
—hanging from the lower yards …

“Sender's mercy,” said Qinta, his Second, from beside him.

Bodies.

The yards had been transformed into makeshift gallows. Dozens of corpses swung back and forth in the breeze. Where the yards met the masts, more Rubyholters had been pinned to the wood—crucified, most likely. Still more bodies were piled on the main deck. Covering the dead, along with every inch of rigging, was a shifting white blanket of squabbling starbeaks. Galantas gave a low whistle. From Eremo's talk of sending messages, Galantas had known to expect a spectacle. When he'd walked through the harbor, though, he'd seen the stone-skin flagship without a scratch on it, and he'd wondered if he had misread the signs.

Something didn't add up, however. Ravin's Falcons were a steady bunch. There was no way two of their ships could have been routed by a solitary Augeran vessel, meaning Eremo must have had help from other stone-skins.

So where were these helpers now?

As the headland fell away, Galantas saw two boats plying the waters of the strait. The Augerans manning them were fishing from the waves the corpses of Rubyholters who must have died trying to flee the massacre. Tidying up after themselves, perhaps? Or checking to ensure there was no one who could report on what had happened here?

“Do you recognize the ships?” Galantas asked Qinta.

The Second crossed his tattooed arms. “Three-master's called the
Lively.
Yali is her captain.”

Or
was
her captain.

The breeze picked up, and Galantas caught the smell of blayfire oil. One of the boats had drawn alongside the two-master and was unloading its grisly catch. The crew of the other boat, meanwhile, had stopped to stare at the
Eternal
. Galantas could make out four stone-skins on board. One wore a red cloak, the others black—

“Captain,” Qinta said, pointing south.

Galantas looked in the direction indicated and saw an islet in the distance. Maybe a stone's throw across, it was little more than a tumble of rocks and yellow grasses.

Then he realized it wasn't the islet his Second had been pointing at, but a man swimming in the water near it. A survivor.
A witness.
Must have played dead all this time to avoid the stone-skins' notice. Now he started shouting to the
Eternal
and waving his hands in the air. Surprising reaction, really. Usually the best a drowning Islander could hope for from another clan was a boot on the head to speed his passage through Shroud's Gate. But clearly a swift death was better than what he'd get from the Augerans if they saw him.

And seen him they had. A wave of water-magic burgeoned beneath the nearest stone-skin boat, and it went shooting toward the man like a bolt fired from a ballista.

Oh no you don't.

Galantas gauged distances. The
Eternal
was closer to the swimmer, but the Augeran craft had the advantage of both weight and maneuverability. Galantas located his water-mage beside the ship's wheel. He was combing his long hair with a fish-bone comb.

“Barnick!” Galantas shouted.

The
Eternal
rose with a rush and fizz of water.

And the race was on.

Submerged ruins flashed past to either side of the ship. Ahead Galantas saw three towers beneath the waves like the prongs of a trident, and for an improbable moment he imagined them thrusting out of the sea to skewer the hull. The swimmer thrashed through the waves toward the
Eternal.
Just a few hundred armspans away now. Galantas gripped his shark-tooth necklace so tight, the teeth dug into his skin. The wind made his sharkskin cape billow behind him. He looked at the Augerans. The wave beneath their boat was of a size to match the
Eternal
's. At the prow, the stone-skin in the red cloak leaned out as far as he could, as if he thought that would hasten their passage.

“Gonna be a close thing,” Qinta said.

Too close for Galantas's liking. Maintain this course and speed, and they might beat the stone-skins to the swimmer only to roll over him and drown him beneath the hull.

“Barnick,” he called. “A point to starboard.”

The
Eternal
changed course.

The islet rushed closer. Was it just Galantas's imagination, or had the wave under the stone-skin boat grown larger? There was a corpse on the sea in front of it, and as the craft passed by, the body rose with the wave before falling behind amid a trail of white spume.

Qinta said, “Want me to get the lads to fire a few shots across their bows? Might spook them into slowing.”

It might also end up with a stone-skin joining the corpses in the water. Galantas shook his head. He didn't want to start a war here. For while the prospect of losing his father twenty thousand talents was appealing, he might be inheriting that money soon. Besides, it looked like he was winning the race. The man in the red cloak gestured and shouted to the Rubyholters to give ground.

“Hold your course,” Galantas shouted to Barnick.

“We're gonna bump 'em,” Qinta said.

“It'll hurt them more than it hurts us.”

The stone-skins must have reached the same conclusion, for the wave beneath their craft receded. Immediately Barnick slowed the
Eternal
's rush so it did not overshoot its target. The deck tilted, and Galantas seized the rail. The quartermaster, Drefel, sprawled to the boards and swore. As the ship settled on the sea, the dregs of the wave that had been carrying it went hissing toward the islet. A crash, a spray of white, then a dozen nesting limewings took flight, squawking.

The swimmer was now abeam to port, bobbing on the swell. The wave created by the
Eternal
's coming washed over him, and he went under before breaking the surface again.

“Get him up here,” Galantas said to Qinta.

The Second nodded and moved off.

Some of the crew were whooping and jeering at the Augeran boat off the starboard bow. The stone-skins, by contrast, were silent. Bad losers, going by their scowls, but that just made the
Eternal
's crew cheer louder. Galantas could see a handful of corpses at the bottom of the Augeran boat, all studded with crossbow bolts. The stone-skin in the red cloak was watching him. As his gaze locked to Galantas's, he lifted a sandaled foot and lowered it onto the face of a dead woman. Then he twisted it back and forth like he was putting out a blackweed stick.

A new wave raised the Augeran boat high and carried it toward the
Eternal
. The hulls of the two craft came together with a thud and a clank, and the red-cloaked stone-skin seized the rail and sprang over it. Tall bastard, he was. Taller even than Qinta, though not as broad. His skin was a lighter hue than that of the Augerans Galantas had met in Bezzle. The jeers of the
Eternal
's crew died away. A hundred sets of hard eyes were fixed on him, yet he might have been a captain come to inspect his crew for all the apprehension he showed. He crossed to the stairs and climbed to the quarterdeck.

Qinta was waiting for him at the top. The stone-skin tried to move around to get to Galantas, but the Second blocked him.

“Qinta,” Galantas said, and the Islander stepped back.

When the Augeran approached, he brought with him a whiff of blayfire oil. He stopped a pace away. Not a sailor, judging by the way he swayed with every shift of the deck. He stared at Galantas, and Galantas felt the gazes of his crew upon him. Anticipating the confrontation to come, no doubt. Some men might have been intimidated by that expectation, but Galantas was never more comfortable than when playing to an audience.

“Welcome aboard,” he said to the stone-skin. “I am Galantas Galair of the Spears. And you are?”

“My name Ostari Abrahim al Third, Peer of Honored.” The Augeran looked about him. “Curious is ship. Metal plates on hull made steel?”

Galantas nodded. Evidently not every stone-skin spoke the common tongue with the same fluency as Commander Eremo.

“Slow and heavy must make,” Ostari added.

“It didn't seem to hold us back just now.”

The Augeran pressed on. “Bulkheads on low decks, plates make tight against water?”

“Yes. There is also an inner skin of steel. Together with the plating on the hull, it makes the ship impenetrable to rams.”

“Though is little use when defend enemy that tries to board.”

“I wouldn't know about that.” Galantas looked at his crew. “We're the ones who do the boarding, eh, lads?”

Chuckles greeted his words.

Ostari's smile was glacial.

There was movement at the corner of Galantas's eye. He looked across to see Squint and Critter heaving on a line over the port rail. A head of red hair appeared over the gunwale, and the two crewmen reached over and hauled the swimmer onto the deck. He lay gasping on the boards, curled up like a newborn. He was younger than Galantas had been expecting, maybe only fourteen or fifteen. The youth's gaze settled on the red-cloaked Augeran before shying away.

Ostari said to Galantas, “See you have something mine.”

“Oh?”

“Boy on ship that attack us.”

Galantas raised an eyebrow. “I saw your flagship in our harbor earlier. There was no damage to it.”

“Did not say attack successful.”

“But you took casualties?”

“Minor scrapes, that all.”

“Explains why you felt the need to turn those ships”—Galantas gestured to the stricken Rubyholt vessels—“into floating gallows.”

Ostari pointed to the survivor. “By law, his life mine.”

“What law is that?”

“Augeran maritime law. Can quote sections, if want.”

Galantas leaned forward. “I'll let you in on a secret,” he said. “You're not
in
Augera anymore.”

Ostari straightened. “And what your laws say done? I assume
have
laws here.”

“Under our laws, a pirate must atone for his crime by serving the clan he attacked.” If he was stupid enough to get caught, that is. And if he hadn't already suffered a more lasting punishment.

“Perfect,” Ostari said, showing his teeth. “I promise care well of him.”

Galantas let the silence drag out. He wanted the watching Falcon boy to feel his life being weighed. The more the youth convinced himself he was doomed, the more grateful he'd be when he was spared. “I think not,” Galantas said at last.

“But is law, you say yourself.”

Galantas snorted. The only true law in the Isles came at the end of a blade, as the Augerans had proved to the Falcons. Too late for them now to cry foul. They'd used the fight to send a message to the clans, and Galantas intended to send a message of his own. “If you feel aggrieved, you can take your complaint to the next gathering of clan leaders at the Hub. I'm sure they'll give you a fair hearing.”

“I am sure. Must wonder, though, if your reaction be different if
we
victims, not Rubyholters.”

Galantas did not respond.

Ostari studied him. “You said you Spear clan? Hear you agree today with us over sail through Isles. Bad start if let man go.”

“The agreement isn't signed yet.”

The Augeran nodded as if that was the answer he'd expected. Then he spun and headed back the way he'd come. His shoulder brushed Qinta's as he passed. When he reached the main deck, he cast a final look at the Falcon boy before vaulting over the rail and into his waiting boat.

The craft sped away.

Galantas watched it go, wondering how Eremo would react to this afternoon's events. Doubtless he'd complain to Dresk, but by that time the Falcon would be back among his own people. And Galantas suspected the treaty was too important to the stone-skins to cancel it over the fate of one boy. Of more interest was how the Falcon's clan leader, Ravin, would take the news of what had happened here—not just with regard to Galantas's intervention, but also to the stone-skins' treatment of Yali's men. He could have no complaint, of course, that the Augerans had defended themselves against raiders. But the butchery that had followed had surely crossed a line.

He looked at Critter and gestured to the survivor. “Bring him.”

Critter hauled the Falcon to his feet and pushed him toward Galantas. The youth came slowly, his gaze fixed on the deck. For all he knew, Galantas might have spared him from Ostari just so he could kill him himself. Relations between the Spears and Falcons had been strained of late. Only a week ago, one of Dresk's krels had killed a Falcon in a dispute over some barren lump of rock no bigger than the islet off the
Eternal
's bow.

Another shove from Critter sent the boy crashing into the steps to the quarterdeck. He climbed them in sullen silence and halted before Galantas, his red hair hanging across his eyes.

“Who are you?” Galantas asked.

Critter said, “What he means is, are you worth anything to us as ransom?”

Laughs from the crew, and Galantas made a calming gesture with his hand. “What's your name?” he said.

“Allott,” the Falcon muttered.

“Allott,
Captain.
”

The boy did not reply.

Qinta said, “I recognize him. You're Tusker's bastard, ain't you?”

Allott said nothing.

Tusker, as in Ravin's dead brother? That would make Allot the clan leader's nephew.
Better and better.
“What happened here?” Galantas asked.

Silence.

Qinta growled and stepped forward, but Galantas blocked him with his arm.
Okay, let's try something easier.
He indicated the two Falcon ships and said to Allott, “You were on board when Yali hit the stone-skins?”