The Farthest Shore (Eden Series Book 3) (12 page)

He sat back down, frowning. If they held an easterly course to find out what had made that sound, it could be a good long time before he caught back up with
Checkmate
, and he had no way of keeping Captain Juell informed of anything he discovered. Both he and the shark could die out there in foreign waters and no one would ever know.

On the other hand, what else could he do? Turn around and swim back to
Checkmate
without being any the wiser? No, that settled it. He was seventeen and had been on assignments for two years, so this was nothing he couldn’t at least observe from a distance.

Touching the shark’s mind, he let her feel his curiosity and anticipation. Her tail lashed the water and she swam faster.

“You did very well,” Kaig said. “The ship we need won’t have sails, so when you see that one, don’t damage it. But if you deal with the others just as you did before, the commander will approve.”

He rarely handed out praise, but he knew the girl wasn’t happy. She’d shaken her head after only a few bites of food and lain back down in her nest of nerve fibers, her eyes closed. He put the back of his hand to her forehead, but it didn’t feel fevered. The confines of the control chamber seemed closer about him than usual.

“What’s wrong, Nuemy?” He guessed the answer and dreaded it.

“Why did we need to kill all those people?” she asked.

Kaig had brought her up since she had been five years old, teaching her that she would some day be a protector of the Archipelago, that the lives of free people like him would depend on her being brave enough to fight for them. He’d told her all the stories his parents had told him, of the Tureans’ struggle to govern themselves rather than kneeling to something known only as the Unity, of the citadels of coral in the north and the Battle of Crypthouse in the south.

It worried him to think she might have either forgotten it all or no longer considered it important, because talk in the isles said that a Denalait infant raised by Tureans inevitably remembered its origins. The memory was in the blood and the bones, just as a Turean raised among Denalaits—not that they would ever be so kind—could still drink of the sea and live.

“This is war,” he said. “In war, either they die or we do. Remember how Captain Falcer made the firegalleys which broke the blockade of the Straits of Scorpitale?”

She shifted as if the kraken’s flesh beneath her had grown thorns. “But the blockaders knew who they were fighting. It was a fair fight—”

“In war, everything is fair. It’s no different from Rueq the Ram disguising his galleass as a plague ship so he could hold off the mainlanders long enough to rescue his beloved wife.”

Nuemy blinked. “You never told me about that before.”

“Didn’t I? Well, once this is over, you’ll hear the whole story.” Thank the gods she was so young. “And don’t forget, the Denalaits are only winning this war because of their sneak attacks, so there’s nothing wrong with us doing the same. This might be our last chance to save our people.”

“I know, but…” Now she looked sad. “That ship wasn’t even fighting us.”

That’s the whole point
. “All Denalait ships fight us, little one. If they haven’t already sailed into the Iron Ocean to burn our houses and put our children to the sword, they’ll do it in the future. But if they sink today—”

“—we will always be safe from them.” She didn’t seem any happier, just resigned. “I know. Good night, Kaig.”

Disquieted, Kaig heaved himself up from the moist cool floor. To make matters worse, when he stepped out into the central cabin, Ralcilos Phane was just outside the door.

He’d heard everything, Kaig knew at once, but he covered his discomfiture as he closed and locked the door as always. He couldn’t stop Ralcilos from doing what he pleased as long as it didn’t interfere with the safety of
Nautilex
, and given that Ralcilos had brought nine of Jash’s most trusted troops with him, any altercations on board would not go in Kaig’s favor.

“Is she refusing?” Ralcilos said softly.

Kaig crossed the cabin and replied in the same muted tone. “She’ll do as she’s told, like the rest of us.”

“She seemed reluctant.”

Kaig tried to shrug. “It’s the first time the kraken saw battle. Reality’s not the same as tales of glory.”

Ralcilos’s eyes glittered in the light of glowcoral. “Maybe it’s not tales of glory she needs so much as stories of pain. I could tell her a few.”

And act them out with her, I’ve no doubt
. “Hurt her enough,” Kaig said, struggling to keep his voice quiet, “and the kraken will sense that. Chances are it’ll dive to escape. I don’t know what this submersible’s crush depth is, but I do know the kraken can reach the ocean bed alive, and we cannot. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Ralcilos’s mouth smoothed into a smile. “Though once we have
Checkmate
, there’s no need for the kraken or for her.”

Kaig longed to find
Checkmate
too, for a different reason—it would get Ralcilos and his troops away from
Nautilex
. If the worst came to the worst and they hurt Nuemy, or if her loyalty broke,
Nautilex
was designed with an escape mechanism that would tear the entire submersible away from the kraken. But since the kraken’s own blood vessels provided the air supply, the kraken would bleed to death in short order and the submersible could never return to the Archipelago under its own power.

“It’s getting late,” Ralcilos said. “Go find the ship.”

Kaig glared at him, hating him but well aware that Ralcilos’s allegiance was beyond doubt. Jash would never have chosen him for the mission if he wasn’t fanatical about defending the Archipelago and destroying any Denalaits in their way. Nuemy obviously wanted to do the former while avoiding the latter.

Ralcilos was right about another thing too—it was late, according to the timeglass. Which meant the kraken could surface. Kaig went to the central hatch half an hour later.

The lever that opened it became a rung when flipped down and locked. He climbed up, elbows braced against the rim of the hull. It was dark and humid outside, but being confined in the submersible like a pickle in a jar made him grateful for any small mercy.

Watching for ships was a nightly ritual carried out ever since they had entered the Sheltered Ocean. It was how he had found the Denalait ships in the first place, except they had been crafty enough to stay within sight of each other. He hadn’t dared draw closer, well aware that other than the kraken, surprise was his only real weapon.

But three evenings before, when Nuemy had told him the kraken sensed the ocean surging above it, he had thought of using the cover of the storm to take a ship. That succeeded, though he was relieved when the kraken sank back down into the depths. Thick as the submersible’s walls were, he felt waves pounding down, heavy as a cascade of liquid lead. And being trapped in
Nautilex
while a battle raged outside made him helpless as well as blind. He didn’t even know the Denalait ship had sunk until Nuemy told him.

He went back below shortly afterwards, because they took it in turns to spend an hour enjoying the air and keeping watch. One of Ralcilos’s men spotted lanterns, but when the kraken drew closer, the smell made it obvious the ship was a whaler. Kaig refused to attack. Even if he had wanted to antagonize Dagre—and the Archipelago was losing the war against one land, let alone two—he had no intention of spending time in the control chamber making up stories about how those ships boiled down Tureans for oil when they couldn’t catch whales.

He wondered if the storm had scattered the ships too far, but the next night the woman who was on watch beckoned to him. Since Denalait eyes and ears could range far from their ships, Ralcilos’s crew was careful not to make too many sounds. He climbed up with a spyglass.

At first he saw nothing in the calm darkness, and he thought the woman had been mistaken. Then moonlight gleamed off a swiftly moving speck in the distance—steel perhaps, or flat glass. He squinted and saw it more clearly. A man glided through the water, except there was no sign of a boat and the man’s arms didn’t move. Kaig didn’t need to see the shark beneath the waves to know it was there.

Kill it?
he thought.

Not yet
. They would lose the advantage of surprise when they were near enough for the shark to pick out the kraken’s scent from the multitude of smells in the ocean, and for now he would gain more from following the creature. It was certain to lead him to another Denalait ship.

Hovering only a few feet below the surface of the ocean, the kraken sucked in water and spewed it back out from opposite sides of a strong, flexing funnel. That was enough propulsion to drift backwards. Kaig had been right, and following the shark had led them to a ship, but now he wondered if the Seawatch agent had seen them after all, and had led them on a merry dance as a result.

The shark had swum for miles, only to stop at a ship which didn’t fly the black-circle-on-white flag of Denalay. He would have thought it was a Denalait ship under false colors, but one look at the ship itself told him it was Dagran. The odd weapons protruding from stern and sides were proof enough.

All the more reason not to fight, then, at least until he knew what those weapons could do, but why in the world had the shark stopped there? He waited, tensed, for the quarry to become the stalker, but nothing further happened. Faint sounds from the ship—voices and the ring of a bell—carried over the waves. He tapped a foot quietly against the inside of the hatch twice, a command for the kraken to retreat even further. With the hatch open, he didn’t dare attract attention from either Dagran sailors or Denalait fish.

He stared through the spyglass again, reading the ship’s name off her stern.
Enlightenment
, how flowery. The wide spreads of her sails hid the stars. When he looked lower, the lanternlight gleamed off wet smooth sharkskin, a hide that wrapped the body of a man climbing aboard. A few Dagrans surrounded him but didn’t seem at all surprised, let alone hostile, and one of them escorted the man out of sight.

Kaig climbed down, motioned Liggar to keep watch for the shark and went to confer with Ralcilos. “Why would a Seawatch agent go to a Dagran ship?” he said.

“Because it’s giving them supplies and news?” Ralcilos frowned. “No, they’d carry their own food, and they wouldn’t rely on any Dagran ship for messages when they could send sharks.” The frown cleared. “Or because it’s one of them.”

Kaig shook his head. “The ship looks Dagran.”

“I mean she’s one of those racing for the prize.”

“There are Dagran ships in this race too?”

Ralcilos shrugged. “Why not, when the race takes place in their waters? Seems polite to allow them to join in.”

Kaig turned his head in the ship’s direction, wishing he could look through
Nautilex
’s hull, through the kraken’s skin, through waves and wood and a cabin to see what the Seawatch man was doing. He felt nothing for the Dagrans and would have been content to leave them to win the ridiculous race, but when he looked back at Ralcilos he knew it wouldn’t happen.

“You want to smash their ship,” he said.

Ralcilos laughed, a rasp softer than an exhalation. “Course not. But it’s sailing in the same direction we are, more or less, and it could be useful. Wait for the Seawatch man to leave and take us close.”

“How close?” Kaig said suspiciously.

“Enough for me to swim.”

The cook had prepared James Terlow’s favorite dessert, crisp biscuits topped with rosehip jam, along with a wedge of cheese. He looked longingly at the platter as Gerald Lek helped himself to seconds. Somehow Gerald stayed lean as an eel, whereas James was always aware of the extra pounds he carried on his belly. Either the cook didn’t see those or the cook had it in for him, but the end result was that he had to watch his officers scoffing the delicious food while he gnawed at a dried apple. He had invited the Denalait boy with the stripeyface to stay for dinner, because he would have loved to learn more about Seawatch, but the boy had declined and swum off.

“How is Captain Solarcis?” he said to the surgeon.

“Still unconscious, sir.” The surgeon cut into the cheese, and James’s mouth watered as a pungent scent rose into the air. “If he doesn’t revive soon, he’s likely to die, because I’d rather not risk pouring broth down his throat and having it go the wrong way.”

Poor bastard. Though at least he won’t die fat.
He spat out a pip and asked Peter Corojal what he thought about the rumors of civil war in Lunacy. Not that too many people outside the madland knew what happened in it, but he needed some conversation that didn’t involve food.

The clang of the bell on the deck above stopped Peter in mid-word. James was on his feet at once, and the rest of his officers followed as he strode out. He took the steps two at a time, puffing only slightly, but when he reached the deck there was nothing untoward except for a few of the men leaning over the side as though they had spotted something interesting in the water. The officer of the watch saluted.

“Sir, a man hailed us.” He pointed. “No sign of how he got here, but we’re pulling him up.”

“At alert.” James drew his sword and watched as the man hauled himself up. The crew took their cues from him, because they gave the man a careful berth and their hands weren’t far from their own weapons either; those men who had none reached for belaying pins. The man climbed over the gunwale and stood dripping on the deck. Unlike the Denalait boy’s clothes, his were ordinary except for the small clamshells that buttoned his shirt. He looked around at the circle of men fencing him in.

“I’m Ralcilos Phane,” he said. “I need to speak to the captain of this ship.”

James took a single step out of the circle. Ralcilos Phane didn’t seem armed, but he wasn’t going anywhere near a man who appeared out of the sea at night. And the man had to be a Turean. The Denalaits hadn’t said anything about the Tureans living in the sea like mermen.

Still, he couldn’t afford to look uncertain in front of his crew, so he straightened his back and answered, “I’m Captain Terlow. What do you want?”