Treason's Shore (78 page)

“What are you doing this far south?” Fox asked. “This armada I’m part of is—”

“I know its purpose, Fox,” she said, in the same light, timberless voice he’d heard in disturbing dreams for years. “I know you took command of the alliance between Sarendan and Khanerenth. My question to you: is it true that Inda comes back?”

“Why do you want to know?” he countered.

The brief compression of her lips might have been an attempt at a smile. “To unite against the common enemy. The Venn would love our shipyards, our cordage, and especially our sails. Our people, as laborers.”

Fox did not deny it. Instead, he ventured another question. “What happened to you? I thought your laws were definite about runaways. Called them renegades.”

“Our laws are definite about everything.” Her Dock Talk was clipped, but clear. “Including the reward for defeat of enemies such as Boruin. Majarian. And the Brotherhood of Blood. We were given place in the navy. Uslar and I are now captains—our training with Inda stood us well. The new high admiral summoned me. He appointed me commander of our defense to fight under Inda Elgar the Fox.”

Fox said, “Inda’s on his way to Bren. If you can join us right away in sailing west now, we’ll be able to touch at Jaro, talk to Ymar’s people, then start for Bren—”

Thog raised a small hand and looked down at the deck.

“What?” Fox demanded. “Are you or aren’t you joining us?”

“Yes. But not to defend Bren. My king’s orders are specific. We will unite our forces with yours, under Inda’s command, anywhere off our coast in a defensive effort. But we will not defend another kingdom.” And when Fox crossed his arms, obviously preparing for a fairly hot retort, she said, “I suspect you will find the same will be said from Everon. They will not sail up the strait to defend Bren and leave their own coast undefended.”

Fox held back a retort. Instinct insisted she was right. Further, it explained some of the hedging he’d been hearing that he’d attributed to the mushy rhetoric of diplomatic usage. “I never thought we’d have you Chwahir, but I confess I did think we’d have Everon and Ymar. Then we won’t have enough ships, not against the Venn.”

Thog’s small chin came down. “No. Everyone knows that. Despite all their talk, they are all afraid.”

“All right. I’ll consult with the others. We do still have Inda coming to command us.”

Thog smiled briefly. Then her serious gaze flicked to the chart. “Yes. And if we heard it, the Venn will have also. I hope Inda knows that.”

“So do I.”
Have they, Ramis?
Fox shook his head. “So do I.”

Chapter Twelve

T
HOSE mad or desperate enough to attempt it could make it through

Andahi Pass during the winter. Horses were useless, as snow buried the trails and a false step could plunge one to the neck in muddy slush. Runners took the mounts to Ala Larkadhe as the rest started up a trail Cama had got to know very well in all weathers.

The pass itself was filled with icy snow and impossible for anyone but small animals to traverse. Cama, Inda, and their Honor Guard toiled up the rocky footpaths, often feeling cautiously at every step for black frost. The easiest part was crossing the lakes. Goats galloped daintily over the ice, drawing sleighs every which way, or a person could pole speedily over a well-smoothed track, balanced on a sled. A couple of days’ hard rowing (or a day of nice sailing if the wind happened to be right) was reduced in winter to a brisk morning’s slide.

Because they caught a stretch of days with blue sky overhead, they made it to the top of the pass quicker than a horse journey through the pass in spring; there were times when it would take eight weeks, because of frequent stops for blizzards.

Their spirits were high. The journey had ended most days with campfire planning sessions for the defense of Bren, while Cama’s dragoons paced a watchful double perimeter.

Cama knew little about the sea, but he was willing to learn. Mindful of the fact that he might be called on one day to defend the north coast against another invasion, he pestered Inda tirelessly with questions: Why did the wind change? How could the current flow one way and the wind another? Which way did you point the boat when the big waves came at you? Inda helped him to translate maritime conditions into land equivalents.

So each night they sat on rocks by the fire, drawing with sticks in the snow as they discussed different ideas. A few of the dragoons listened in, offering heroic and dashing notions, most of which were useless, but Inda didn’t tell them that. How best to use the islands off the harbor was the main topic of debate, Inda trying to look at the problem backward: What would the Venn be expecting the defenders to do?

“Break their line through the middle,” Cama kept saying.

Inda and Cama both had heard that the Venn invariably lined up across the horizon before they invaded. “I’ve got to break it from all directions,” Inda often said, hoping that enough discussion would furnish a great idea.

Cama’s usual retort was a reminder such as, “Tough to manage when you’re stuck with line-of-sight and the damned Venn aren’t.”

Back around they’d go, talking in circles.

Inda hadn’t heard from Fox for weeks, so he was glad when he felt the tap of magic early that last morning as they were trudging up the trail (kept clear by the beacon teams) to the highest beacon house. From here it would be mostly sledding downhill.

Inda took out the scroll-case as camp was set up. His sudden, heated cursing froze everyone and startled one of the Runners into dropping the Fire Sticks into the snow.

Inda seldom swore, but he made up for it now. The dragoons resumed making camp, a few of them mentally stowing away some of that incomprehensible nautical invective for future need.

Cama appeared, slinging his pack onto a rock. “Bad news?”

“The worst.” Inda handed Fox’s note to Cama, who angled it toward the fire, frowning to bring his one eye into focus in spite of the flickering flames.

“And the Venn know it,” Inda said, sighing.

“They know Bren as well, don’t they?” Cama observed.

“Yeah.” Inda dropped onto a huge flat rock. Since he’d left the royal city he’d fought against a vague sense of having finally overreached himself. Planning, being prepared, thinking about everything was supposed to banish that sense. “Better report to Evred.”

Inda worked his right arm, which ached dully, took out the tiny roll of paper and the field pen screwed into an inkwell. Laboriously he reported in as few words as possible, sent the message, then looked up. Cama was still waiting.

“Listen, Inda. Now that we’ve reached the top, and there’s no chance of any ears but the night birds, I talked to Shoofly Senegad here.” Cama clapped a tough, sturdy dragoon on one broad shoulder, a man in his midthirties with white-puckered sword scars on his face. “He looks enough like you. Pretty much your size. Hair more or less the same.” He flicked the unruly brown horsetail hanging down Shoofly’s back. “Got slashed fighting pirates with Hawkeye at the Nob. And he was with Hawkeye at Andahi, too, so he’s already got one earring, you see?”

Senegad yanked up his wooly cap and displayed his earring for any doubters. His mates grinned. Some saluted him in friendly mockery.

“Crossing our kingdom, I think you were safe. Up in Idayago? You know how it’s been for me. For you, we should add in Venn spies and assassins. They’ve got to know you’re coming.” Cama smacked Senegad on the shoulder. “We’ll put Shoofly in chain mail and surround him with fellows, shields at the ready. He’s gonna wear two earrings, see, and he’ll ride behind the banner. Make a lot of noise, hand out orders right and left, look like a Harskialdna.”

“I’ll take the second earring out again, soon’s it’s safe,” Senegad said modestly, though every dragoon there knew old Shoofly’d be bragging about that earlobe hole for the rest of his life. If he survived the ruse.

“It’ll be like me’n you when we covered for the gold wagons. You get into your sea gear, like you were wearing when I first saw you at Cherry-Stripe’s, before the war. No one would’ve thought you one of us. You slip on by. Fox gonna be here soon?”

“No. Sounds like he got delayed with whatever those negotiations were,” Inda said, fighting impatience. Well, nothing for it. “I’ll get myself to Trad Varadhe alone then. Hire onto a trader going east, let Fox know. That’ll save time.” He turned to Shoofly, then gestured to the Twins. “Jaya and Lith here will shield you, since I can’t take Runners to sea. But you sure you don’t mind being a target?”

“It’ll be fun, being you,” Senegad said. He had a deep, rusty-sounding voice. “I’ll make these slackers sweat.” A thumb jerked at his companions. “Order floggings all around, maybe get ’em to build me a castle or two.”

The dragoons broke into laughter. This was just their kind of humor. So strange, Inda thought, how on land or sea people would work double-tides, and risk their lives, to hoodwink an enemy. These fellows obviously looked forward to long and grueling rides in winter weather in hopes of being spotted by some spy. But . . .

Inda realized they were all staring and forced a grin. He didn’t want to say, “But Senegad is
old
. I’m midway in my twenties!” Inda rarely looked into a mirror and then only to make certain his clothes weren’t awry, or stained, so he had no notion how his experiences had planed the youth from his face.

He turned out his hands. “Sounds like our plan.”

After a heart-pounding, bone-rattling thrill of a descent through the mountains—tough dragoons whooping like boys—Cama and his Honor Guard marched past Twisted Pine down the switchback carved into the massive landslide above Castle Andahi. Behind the crimson eagle banner, bright against the snowy expanse, a broad-shouldered, heavy-chested, scar-faced man wearing two ruby earrings marched. He was seen later on the sentry walks, waving his hands and pointing as if placing mighty armies for future battles.

King’s Runners Ramond Jaya and Ramond Lith were unhappy at being ordered to remain behind. Until Shoofly’s ruse was put in force, they’d assumed they would accompany Inda out to sea among the pirates and far-flung navies. But Inda was adamant: everyone recognized them now, and they had to protect the fake Harskialdna.

He could see how disappointed they were. He liked them very much. But he hadn’t grown up with them. He didn’t talk about experiences they’d never shared. The truth was, he was relieved when he set out alone.

Nobody paid any heed to a fellow in sloppy sailing clothes and an old sock cap beneath which hung a scruffy four-strand sailor braid. He wore an old knit muffler that only showed the tip of his nose as he hitched a ride on a wagon going from Castle Andahi to Trad Varadhe.

A couple weeks later, Inda shuffled forward in line at the new harbormaster’s warehouse-cum-office at Trad Varadhe as the false Harskialdna and his pack of Guards rode, jingling with martial ardor, down the middle of the road.

The false Harskialdna marched around inspecting the new castle foundations and the partial walls, then kept his men standing about all afternoon, watching the slow process of pouring molten bronze through the openings between the clay core and cope of what would be a great bell. Trad Varadhe’s castle bell had not lasted fifteen years. Made by the Marlovans to their own pattern the year they took Idayago, it had been melted by the Venn soon after their invasion. They took the bronze with them when they retreated.

While that was going on, Inda stood outside a glazier’s shop, transfixed by a process he’d never witnessed before. He watched so long that he nearly missed his tide. A sudden shower recalled the here and now, and he loped down to the dock, paid three times the going rate to be rowed out to the brig called
Leaping Fish,
and under the scowl of his new captain, went below to stow his gear in the crew’s cabin.