The Assassin's Edge (Einarinn 5) (47 page)

“Make sure anyone within reach of your blade dies there and we can all go back to it.” That’s what Halice’s mind was set upon. “Come on, get a move on!” She waved the fighting force towards the waiting boats.

The captain of the
Dulse
was waiting on the main deck when she climbed aboard. “How close do you want me inshore?”

“We’ll tell you when we get there.” Halice looked to check the longboats were being securely lashed to the
Dulse
’s stern. “Wait for our signal and then come in to get us.”

“It’s poor light and worse water,” Master Jevon warned her.

“The wizards have that in hand,” Halice reassured him. “Usara? This way.”

The mage followed her to the shallow deck of the forecastle where Halice found a dark-haired man with a coil of thin rope in his hands, leather and bone tags marking its length.

“Jil, this is Usara. Right, Master Mage, prove this idea of yours works before I risk all our necks trusting you.” She nodded to Jil who deftly cast the lead weight he held over the prow, fingers noting the thin rope’s progress without conscious thought. “We’ve got—”

Halice hushed him with a curt hand. “Usara?”

Usara frowned. “There’s five spans of water beneath the keel. The bottom’s sandy here but there are rocks about a plough length that way.” He pointed into the darkness. “And over there.”

“Jil?”

“That’s what the charts say,” admitted the sounding man.

“We’ll make a pilot of him yet, won’t we?” Halice grinned.

“Good enough to put me out of work.” Jil didn’t sound too thrilled.

Halice left the mage to placate the sailor and went down into the waist of the ship, balancing herself as the ship got underway. Her troop was gathered on one side of the deck, Darni’s on the other. Halice listened with half an ear as Darni spoke to those under his command. She’d been relieved to see he treated his men well as they’d drilled their motley band into some semblance of a corps. He was appropriately courteous to the few women under his command as well, but cut them no slack that might trip the entire troop. Halice had no quarrel with that.

The
Dulse
’s crew moved round and above them, alert to every peril of night sailing. Master Jevon stood, arms akimbo, on the aftdeck. The helmsman didn’t take his eyes off his captain as he felt every movement of sea and ship through the whipstaff.

“Will this be like taking that watchpost?” Halice saw the lad Glane was looking apprehensive.

“Easier, if we all keep our heads,” she told him unemotionally. “Keep one eye on the enemy, one eye on your mates and one on Vaspret.”

Glane managed a hesitant laugh. “I’ll try.”

“You know where that third eye comes from, lad?” Peyt was sharpening a sword that gleamed brilliantly clean in contrast to his unshaven dishevelment.

Glane shook his head, mystified.

Peyt clutched his groin with a suggestive grin. “What’s got one eye in here?”

“Think with what’s between your ears, not between your legs,” Halice interrupted him. “Chance your arm like you did in Sharlac and I’ll leave you behind.”

“Peyt’ll just walk back across the open water,” Deglain laughed from his seat in the shadow of the mainsail.

Peyt sneered at him but, before he could reply, Halice bent close to whisper in his ear. “Don’t think you’ll get a chance to stay and turn pirate. I’ve someone ready to put a bolt through your head if I give the nod, you and all your cronies.” She watched him with a dangerous smile as he realised the men he’d relied on to back him in Kellarin were scattered between the two troops. The arrogance faded from his face.

Halice stood in the centre of the deck. “Tonight, we put a scare into them. Do that well enough and they’ll break like reeds when we make our main attack. Check your weapons and be sure you’re ready to go as soon as we get there.”

She moved on to the sheltered stretch of deck just below the aftcastle. Rosarn looked up from bundling sheaves of arrows into oiled skins to save them from salt and damp. “We’ve less than five quivers a bow,” she warned. “And fewer spare strings than I’d like.”

“It’s a raid, Ros,” Halice reminded her. “We’re not taking the field against the Duke of Parnilesse again.”

Rosarn smiled. “He’s too much sense to fight in the dark.”

“Nobles are supposed to be wise. It’s mercenaries are madder than rabid dogs.” Halice watched the crossbowmen checking ratchets, windlasses and quarrels. “Did you get those pictures from Pered?”

Rosarn patted the breast of her jerkin. “We’ll know them better than their own mothers.”

“If you get a shot, take it but we’re not out to kill them at any cost.” Halice raised her voice so all the archers heard her. “Just keep them scared and ducking their heads as we break the prisoners out.”

“All set?” Darni came up to join them.

“Well enough,” Halice confirmed. “Yours?”

Darni nodded. “The experienced lads know we’re saving some pottage for another day. They won’t let the green ones start a fight to the death.”

“As long as they’re blooded before we take them into a real fight.” Halice looked the length of the ship, her gaze halting on Usara still high in the forecastle. “Fighting was so much simpler without magic to complicate it.”

“Don’t blame the mages,” Darni grinned. “Planir’s all for a simple life.”

“Let me know if he manages one,” Halice said drily. “I’ll bottle the secret and hawk it round the fairs. Where’s his favourite complication?”

Darni nodded towards the aft cabin. “Taking a rest, along with little Allin.” The Hadrumal warrior’s square face was unreadable in the gloom.

Halice beckoned and he followed her up to the aftdeck. The helmsman and Master Jevon ignored them, intent on guiding the ship safely through the dark waters.

“How is your troop?” Halice asked Darni quietly. “Who would you send them up against? Who would you run from?”

Darni considered her question before answering. “They’d hold their own in a skirmish with the Brewer’s Boys, as long as we got the drop on them, that is. I wouldn’t want to face them in line of battle. I’d be the first one running if we fell foul of Arkady or Wynald.”

“Fair enough.” That Darni had fought in Lescar at the Archmage’s behest was a secondary consideration for Halice, as long as his judgement agreed with hers.

Darni studied the men down on the main deck. “We can still use all the time we can get to drill them but I don’t suppose Sorgrad will dally just to suit our convenience.” There was respect for the Mountain Man in the warrior’s voice.

“No, I don’t suppose he will.” Halice wrinkled her nose in a private grimace. She’d rather have Sorgrad as her co-commander on this raid but better a bony fish than an empty dish. Besides, Darni had won Sorgrad’s esteem when they’d fought together in the Mountains last summer. That made Darni one of a very select company.

Still, Halice acknowledged, if the big dog’s loyalty to his master’s quail got him killed, she wouldn’t weep for Darni. If he got any of hers killed for the mage-girl’s sake, she’d claim a slice of his hide for each and every one of them. She’d try, anyway. Could she take him? She mentally measured his reach and stride. She hadn’t gone up against another corps commander in a long while. Not since before she’d had her leg smashed.

Halice rubbed absently at her thigh, feeling as always the slight thickening of the mended bone. She’d been crippled as surely as Naldeth until Artifice had reshaped the twisted and shortened limb. Magic certainly complicated the fighting life but there was no denying the value of skills like Guinalle’s, and the mages’ come to that. If she had to take up her sword again, better for a cause like this than some mere coffer of gold.

“Are your banner sergeants clear on their tasks?”

Darni was unscrewing the pommel of his sword. “Absolutely.” He took a coin out of the hollow in the hilt and polished it against his jerkin before putting it back. He grinned at Halice. “A luck piece from Strell, my wife. What do you carry?”

Halice smiled briefly. “A good whetstone.” She looked over her troop again, satisfying herself that Minare and Vaspret were best placed to strengthen the less experienced lads like Glane.

The ship ran on through the silent seas, everyone deep in their own thoughts. As the darkness of Suthyfer carved an outline against the stars, every head turned towards the crouching islands and the rushing of the surf. Sailors rushed aloft to furl sails and the ship slowed.

“How close do we go?” Master Jevon asked Halice.

“Watch the wizard.” She pointed to Usara standing shoulder to shoulder in the prow with Jil. The mage was intent on the black sea beneath the bowsprit and the entire ship fell silent, watching him. The helmsman moved the whipstaff with agonising delicacy at every shift of Jil’s hand. The ship crept closer and closer to the mouth of the strait where the pirates lurked. Ominous, the islands closed on either side of the
Dulse
, blotting out the few stars breaking through the rents in the cloud above.

“Stir the girls,” Halice said quietly.

Darni slid silently down the ladder to summon Larissa and Allin. They joined him on the deck, faces pale in a passing gleam of the scant moonlight.

“Call up the boats.” At her order, Master Jevon snapped his fingers at the boatswain and the
Dulse
’s crew began hauling up the longboats that had followed her like so many ducklings. The stealthy flap and rustle of canvas overhead was overtaken by the noise of cautious boots on the deck as both troops began climbing down the ladders and netting that the sailors draped over the rails on either side. Only a few whispered oaths broke the hush as somebody was jostled, and then stealthy oars slid into the water.

“See you later, Commander,” said Rosarn. Burdened with arrows and bows, the archers climbed carefully down to a boat crewed by men from the
Dulse
.

Halice went down to the main deck where Allin waited for her, bundled up in a dark cloak. “Let’s go.”

She went down the ladder first, ready to catch the mage-girl if she slipped. The last thing they needed was that kind of commotion. Once they were aboard without mishap, Halice looked across the inky water to find the longboat where Darni hulked massive in the prow, Larissa hooded beside him. She nodded to Minare who silently signalled the men to start rowing. The boats crept forward, silence more precious than speed, sliding into line, each behind the other. Darni led the rest on the other side of the strait.

Halice saw a coppery thread curling through the blackness of the night sea, a sheen like firelight glittering in the very water that should kill it dead, just far enough ahead so the tiller man could see it. Allin sat beside her, round face grave with concentration as the guiding light led them through the rock-strewn shadows of the ever-narrowing strait. Halice rubbed absently at her thigh.

An oar scraped against a hidden rock and a banner sergeant’s rebuke was hastily stifled. A scatter of huge stones tumbled down from the cliffs appeared in the water, shadows coming and going beneath the fitful light of the greater moon. Halice scowled upwards. It was a shame these wizards couldn’t concoct some means of summoning back the clouds.

The breeze brought the acrid scent of damp, charred wood and Halice dismissed every thought beyond the task ahead of her. She could just make out the stark wrecks of the burnt ships some way down the strait as the thread of magelight coiled in a faint pool of radiance at the very end of the shingle beach. Halice patted Allin’s cloaked arm in mute approval before climbing carefully out of the boat. She slid her boots noiselessly through the water, careful of her footing on treacherous stones.

Glancing back, she saw the newer recruits intent on her, anticipation in their shining eyes. Those already blooded under her command were keeping watch for the enemy. Halice studied the sprawling encampment on the far side of the landing. Some of the crooked cabins had spread to two and three rooms and moonlight glinted on windows plundered from the stern cabins of the
Tang
and Den Harkeil’s ship. One even boasted a precarious, stubby chimney but most were relying on cook fires scorching the turf or dug into stone-lined pits. Dying back in this stillest watch of the night, they threw up little more than a reddish glow.

There was one fire burning bright, a figure momentarily silhouetted as he threw a log from a handy pile into the flames. Halice watched that single fire as she led her troop ashore. It was a good way off and while it was on higher ground, the indisciplined huts and canvas-covered stores of loot obscured what should have been a clear view of the water. The other side of that coin was Halice couldn’t make out just how many raiders were awake and supposedly on watch. A handful? A double handful?

Her foremost men were at the very end of the shingle reach now, creeping closer and closer to the stockade. Minare’s men were the first to leave the treacherous stones and move more quickly over the muffling grass. As soon as the timber-walled prison was between her force and the sleeping pirates, Halice divided them with silent hand signals. Minare led his lads up around the stockade to keep watch on the landward side while Halice sent her men the other way, their path curling round close beneath the base of the wall. She fell back behind them, Vaspret at her side, the two of them low to the ground and moving out into the darkness until she could see the whole arc of the beach and the ground rising up to the pirate encampment beyond. She drew her sword.

“Go.”

Her soft command sent Vaspret running low and silent like a coursing hound. The sentry sat idly dozing against the gate of the stockade died before waking without a sound. Vaspret jerked his knife out of the pirate’s ribs, keeping one hand still clamped over the corpse’s mouth and nose as he wiped the blade clean.

As the rest of the troop waited, Deglain was already moving. With Vaspret keeping watch for him, he brought a formidable pair of blacksmith’s pincers to bear on the chain threaded through the gate. He leant all his strength to the task and the link he’d chosen gave way with a sharp crack. Everyone froze but no alarm roused among the oblivious huts.