The Path of the Storm (25 page)

Soon water rushed into a hole in the side of the caravel. Miro watched with sadness as the bold ship that had saved their lives sank.

Miro was suddenly too weary to pay much attention to his surroundings. They were on the main deck of yet another ship, and once again at the mercy of her captain and crew.

He and Amber received strange looks from the sailors, and Miro realised how bedraggled they must look. Amber still wore men's clothing. Miro's trousers were several sizes too big for her and held up by a piece of rope. Her white shirt was equally disproportionate, hanging almost to her knees. Miro wore the clothing he'd found on the dead man washed up on the beach, also not his size. The pain from the lump on his head now returned with intensity, and he felt sick. Amber was sunburnt, with cracked lips and blistered hands. Miro turned a palm up and saw bloody blisters on the soft skin, below every finger and at the base of his thumb.

In contrast, this was the cleanest, neatest crew he had ever seen. They wore tailored clothing of blue with brown trim, the seams finely-stitched and material light and supple. Rather than going barefoot, they wore tan shoes of soft leather, and each man's hair was cut short, rather than the motley variety of the
Delphin's
crew.

Miro had killed several of their number, yet where a less-disciplined crew would have taken revenge on Miro for what he'd done, these men kept Miro under close guard, yet waited on the convenience of their captain.

The tall man with the feather in his hat called out. The bronze tubes were again rolled back into the ship's interior and the wooden shutters closed with a series of slaps. Miro learned the tubes were called cannon.

Once his ship was underway, the captain came over to inspect his new prisoners. He had intense brown eyes and a square jaw, with an accent that reminded Miro of Hermen Tosch, while his dark clothes were of a fine quality Miro had only seen on the richest nobles and merchants in Seranthia. He looked Miro up and down, and then gave Amber a casual glance.

"Put the woman away somewhere before the rest of the men see her," he ordered.

"Aye aye, Commodore."

"Search the man, see that he has no weapons on him, and then bring him to me. I'll be in my cabin. Actually," he paused, "wash his face, hands and hair. The sea gods only know what vermin he's brought aboard."

Amber was taken away while Miro was warily searched and then taken to a bucket and instructed to wash using a piece of yellow soap. With his wife in the hands of these people, Miro wasn't going to try anything.

He wondered why they hadn't killed him with the projectile weapons. Was there still a chance he could rationalise with the captain and explain his situation?

Miro was taken to an ornate panelled door, waiting while one of the sailors knocked.

"Enter," the captain's voice came from within.

A sailor pushed open the door and Miro was taken inside. The cabin was the most luxurious Miro had seen on a ship. Different varieties of wood had been chosen to create a harmony of colour and grain. There was a long desk at one end, with two low recliners next to a squat table at the closer end. Two doors must lead to the captain's personal privy and sleeping cabin.

"Commodore," one of the men at Miro's side spoke. "We've brought the man we captured."

"Thank you," said the captain, rising from his desk and coming around to stand in front. He again looked Miro up and down. "You are strangely dressed for a barbarian, aren't you?"

"I'm not a barbarian," Miro said.

"Of course you're not," the captain said, smiling. "Now, do I have your word that you won't try to harm anyone on this ship? We have your woman under guard."

"I won't try anything."

The captain nodded to his men. "You can stand at ease. Please, leave us."

One of the men opened his mouth to say something, but shut it with a snap.

The captain looked at the sailor and smiled. "You have no need to be concerned." He reached down to touch his belt, and Miro saw he wore a beautiful sword, thin and perfectly straight, with a ruby set into the hilt. "The Holdfast champion, three years running. As good as he is, our man here is unarmed, and we have his wife. Besides," his gaze returned to Miro, "I feel I can trust him."

"Aye aye, Commodore," one of the guards said. He scowled at Miro. "We'll be just outside."

When they were alone, the captain sat down on one of the divans, gesturing for Miro to sit on the other. Miro was surprised at the hospitality, but noticed the captain kept his distance, as if Miro stank. Which, he reflected, he probably did.

"My name is Deniz, and I am captain of the
Seekrieger
, the ship you are aboard right now. You may address me as 'Commodore', or 'Commodore Deniz'."

"A pleasure, Commodore," Miro said warily.

"You are wondering why I did not have you killed, and in fact I am wondering myself."

"True."

"There are two reasons why you are still alive. The first is that you are one of the finest swordsmen I've ever seen. I'm not without skill myself, and I know it when I see it. I've been to the north, and fought your people, and never have I come across a barbarian with such skill as yours."

"I told you, Commodore, I'm not a barbarian."

"There you go again," Deniz said. "Of course you are a barbarian. You certainly aren't Veldrin. However your words do lead me to the second reason I've let you live. You are something of a curiosity." He counted on his fingers. "You sail in a ship that, while obviously inferior, I have never seen in the northlands. You and your woman — my apologies, wife — both wear men's garments."

Miro opened his mouth, but the captain continued.

"You speak with a strange accent. You sail in waters where barbarians haven't been seen in generations. You are the first barbarian I've seen without a tangle of facial hair — at last! Finally," Deniz had run out of fingers, "you have the light of intelligence in your eyes."

"Commodore," Miro said, "if you'll let me…"

"No," Deniz held up a hand, "this mystery is better unravelled by one wiser than I. Save your words, barbarian. We are not far from home."

Deniz stood, and Miro stood with him.

"I promised you I would not allow harm to come to you, or your wife, while you were aboard my ship. I cannot offer the same promise when you are out of my hands, but I will commend your skill to the Emir. You wouldn't be the first barbarian who has gone on to adopt civilised ways and serve. Do as you are told, barbarian, and you may yet live."

~

M
IRO
was led to a cabin, and breathed a sigh of relief when Amber turned at the opening door. He was surprised to see she wasn't gagged or tied. The door closed behind him, and Miro heard two guards talk in low tones as they took positions outside. Given the earlier battle, it could have been much worse.

Miro embraced Amber, holding her close. "These people are strange," was the first thing he said.

"They must have a peculiar code of honour," Amber said. "They hardly touched me. It was almost comical, watching them try to bring me here without putting their hands on my body."

"We seem to have struck a deal with the captain," Miro said. He told Amber about his encounter with Commodore Deniz. "He has guaranteed our safety until we reach port, and I believe him."

"What will happen then?"

"All he intimated was that we'd be handed over to someone else. He finds us curious, yet every time I tried to explain to him he wouldn't let me. It must be his way of deferring to his superiors, but I found it odd."

Miro moved over to the cabin window. It was large enough that Amber could look also, and they both cried in wonder at the same time.

They must have entered a harbour, for the wavelets were small and the sea was calm, yet at this stage, all they could see were ships, most at anchor, but some under sail.

More ships than Miro thought could exist in the entire world.

Miro saw scores of mighty warships like the
Seekrieger
and the vessel Miro had found on the island. He knew they were warships now by the rows of wooden shutters, knowing even the Buchalanti would find them formidable. Hundreds of cruisers were still bigger than any ship Miro had ever seen, while smaller boats abounded: flat-bottomed barges, two-masted caravels, three-masted galleons, speedy galleys and even pleasure craft. Longboats and jollyboats hopped from one vessel to another, ferrying passengers and carrying stores.

Miro saw a lighthouse at the end of a long wall of rock, and realised something he didn't want to admit.

This harbour dwarfed the great harbour at Seranthia.

"Look," Amber said, "the city!"

The buildings were multihued like those Miro had seen at the Ochre Isles. The city spread arms around the harbour possessively in a way that made Miro think these people prized control of the seas over anything else. It rose in tiers, continuing higher and higher to a tall summit.

The building at the city's highest point could only be a palace, but with its ivory spires and turquoise domes it was like no palace Miro had encountered in all the lands of the Empire.

The sky grew dark as they approached, and lights appeared at the city's innumerable windows. The lights twinkled in a way that told Miro these people used fire.

"Have you noticed," Miro said. "These people use no lore."

"We don't know that for sure," said Amber.

"Commodore Deniz has a beautiful sword, some of the best workmanship I've seen. Not a rune on it. Those lights at the harbour front — you can't tell me they're from nightlamps."

"You may be right," Amber said. "We'll see."

They were soon unable to grasp the size of the city anymore; the ship was now too close to the dock. Deniz carefully piloted the
Seekrieger
past ships large and small, finally finding his place and hitting the wooden pier with the gentlest of nudges.

Miro waited with Amber while the crew tethered the ship, wondering what would happen next. Eventually Amber gave up watching, resting on the bare wood of a bunk bed while Miro looked out the window. She finally sat up. "What's happening?" she said.

"I can see Deniz standing beside the ship and speaking with someone in a uniform," Miro said. "Something tells me he's talking about us. Now the man's gone, and Deniz is heading back to the ship."

Moments later, the door to the cabin opened. Miro and Amber's questions went unanswered as they were bundled off the ship and taken to where a contingent of soldiers with black uniforms waited.

The soldiers surrounded them, and then Miro heard a voice.

"Barbarian," it was Commodore Deniz, the soldiers parting as he approached. "Welcome to Emirald, capital of Veldria. I wish you luck. If you are allowed to live, and the Emir is generous enough to give you your choice of posts, choose the navy."

Deniz touched his feathered hat, and then turned away, while the soldiers reformed around their two prisoners. Without another word, Miro and Amber were marched away. Miro's suspicions were confirmed when they were taken onto a winding path leading upwards.

They were being taken to the palace.

~

T
HE SOLDIERS
marched in a tight formation, with the prisoners on the inside so it was difficult to see through them, but on the way to the palace Miro saw a prosperous city of cobbled streets, well-dressed people and flickering lanterns at every corner. The windows all had glass, while the vivid colours of the facades were only matched by the shades of the people's clothing.

Miro could see they were indeed a seafaring nation, with chandlers, sail-makers and rope-makers in abundance. Sailors strolled on the streets and drank in the taverns, and looking back the way they'd come, Miro saw the massive harbour revealed in all its splendour.

Against the clatter of marching soldiers' boots he heard the sounds of revelry, voices and warbling music carried on the evening breeze.

"What's going to happen to us, Miro?" Amber said.

"I don't know," Miro said.

"No talking!" a soldier growled.

The palace was even bigger than Miro had originally thought — a series of buildings rather than a single edifice. He saw little of it, however, besides the heights of the domes and towers.

Miro and Amber were separated, but he was relieved when he saw they were taken to separate entrances of a bathing hall, with hot and cold pools beckoning seductively and braziers to warm the night air.

Miro was told to undress, and his clothing was taken from him — guards standing close by but looking studiously away. A silent older man led him to a pool and handed him soap. The man refused Miro's efforts at conversation, but wasn't content until Miro had passed through all three of the pools. The old man then made Miro lie on his stomach while he rubbed fragrant oil into Miro's back.

Even as he worried, Miro felt the cares of the journey melt away under the old man's hands, and sighed in pleasure. Finally, Miro was clothed in loose white garments — billowing trousers and an open-necked shirt. He was given soft boots to wear, and the old man combed another kind of oil through his long black hair, tying it with a cord at the back of his head.

Miro was then handed back to the guards and taken outside the bath house. Amber waited also under guard. She looked clean and beautiful, clad in a white tunic, but her expression was apprehensive.

"Your woman will be looked after," one of the soldiers said, "but an unmarried woman should be kept apart from the men."

"She's my wife!" Miro said, scowling.

"Where is the stone in her nose to show the status of her husband?"

"We come from another land, and we have a different custom." Miro barked a laugh. "But whatever the highest status is, then that's what she would have."

"I am sorry," the soldier said. He nodded to his fellows, and Amber was led away.

Miro watched as his wife was taken from him.

He wondered why he'd brought her along on this foolish quest.