Treason's Shore (95 page)

So Inda shook his head impatiently, ignoring the pang, and when a stuttering crash of thunder had rumbled away, he said, “I can’t figure out where to put you. Deliyeth hates my guts, and she only came aboard me once, but when I toured her ships she showed me everything from keelson to topmasts herself, in hopes of wringing extra speed and versatility out of ’em. So nobody thinks she’s gonna swarm us from the hidden coast here with a new flotilla and send a hold full of fighters over the rails to attack us in the night. Nobody wants to sail near you, because they think you’re going to attack ’em instead of the Venn.”

“I would never do that to you,” Thog was stung into exclaiming.

Inda sighed. “I know you’ve got your loyalties. We all do. All I’m saying is, for this mission, I need to know what you’ve got, what I can expect in battle. Nothing else.”

Thog pressed her thin fingers to her face, then turned. “These ships. Are all we’ve got.” Her whisper was so low Inda almost did not hear her.

“I understand that’s your command,” Inda said impatiently.

Thog took a step nearer. He could hear her breathing, see how her fingers trembled. “You don’t understand, Inda. This
is
our navy. All of it.”

The storm had shifted to cold north winds and clattering, roaring bombardments of hail when Inda clambered aboard the
Death,
soaked and shivering, his teeth chattering, his left fingers dug into his right shoulder.

Fox waved the wand that transferred heat magic over the bath and pointed silently to the alcove.

Inda left a trail of icy clothes that Fox picked up. When Fox poked his head into the bath alcove, Inda’s blue lips had warmed to a plum color.

“You were with the Chwahir?” Fox restrained his impatience. “Did you tell Thog that they’re even slower than they were at Jaro? What’s Thog’s problem?”

As he spoke, Fox felt the tap of the scroll-case against his leg. He slid his hand into his pocket, but just held the case: it could only be Barend, pestering them yet again for soundings.

Inda rubbed soap into his scalp, then ducked below the surface. When he splashed up again, he said, “What I’m about to say can’t go beyond you.”

Fox shut the cabin door, snapped the scuttles shut, then came back as Inda surged out of the bath, groping for his towel. His muffled voice emerged, “We have every fighting ship they’ve got.”

Fox snapped his fingers. “We’ve been running the wrong dog all along, if she’s telling the truth. If that’s true, then why this years-long war with Khanerenth, which comes down to their refusal to recognize the Khanerenth change of government?”

Inda paused in the act of toweling his hair. “Because they dared not risk acknowledging a king after a violent revolution when they’ve been having the same problems.”

“Civil war?”

“Bad one, Thog says. And I believe it, because everyone at home knows there’s nothing worse than Marlovan fighting Marlovan.”

Fox uttered a bitter laugh.

“We don’t know how many of their own ships they’ve destroyed in fighting each other, but we don’t need to. Thog’s got her holds crammed with warriors, so if the Venn do their dismast and raid, they can spring out and fight to take over the Venn ships. That’s their secret orders, to board and take wounded Venn ships. The older admirals, lacking ships, are all back on land, organizing the entire country for defense if the Venn do break us and invade.”

“And they will invade,” Fox said. “The best canvas and cordage in the world comes from the Chwahir.”

“So I’ll train the Chwahir to maneuver, and everyone can laugh at their slowness. But when the time comes, our fast ships go in front to harry, and the Chwahir are our dragoons, to dismount and fight hand-to-hand when the Venn try to take ships. We’ll let the Chwahir take them.”

“Done.” Fox flicked the scroll-case open and moved toward the mirror chart. Barend’s frequent demands for position sightings had become an irritation. What did he think they were doing, playing with the map all day?

Inda had expected the same, so he was not surprised by Fox’s frown. But when Fox snapped the paper closer to his eyes, and then moved to the nearest and strongest light to reread it with his nose almost on the letters, Inda impatiently yanked on his dry clothes. “What? What?”

Fox held out the paper, his eyes wide and sea-green in the bright light. “Barend’s here. At Boruin’s old lair east o’ Danai. And he’s got the entire Delfin Islands fleet with him, a hundred strong.”

“Yip—” Inda clapped both hands over his mouth, his face reddening.

Fox laughed softly. “He wants to know if they should join up now, and start maneuvering with us.”

“No. No! Don’t you
see?
That’s our feint! There are so many, we might even fool the Venn into thinking
we’re
the feint. The Venn see all those Delfs in a line, led by the
Knife,
one of their own ships?”

“Shit,” Fox exclaimed. “You’re right.”

“Unless our spy ventures south and spots ’em. I can’t believe a hundred ships got down the coast without being noticed. I mean, I see why Barend wanted soundings so often—they must have sailed hull down off the coast . . . but . . .” Inda realized he was babbling, and sprang to the map.

Fox was already there. “The spy is in the same place, somewhere that way.” He lifted his chin to the northwest. “I wonder if he’s getting ready to break for their lines. Probably under cover of a storm.”

“Give me paper.” Inda flung himself onto the chair.

“Did you do exactly as I said?” Dag Byarin asked Anchan. His eyes were ringed with dark flesh, his lips cracked.

She bit back a snappish reply. “Yes. I took the extra tokens as you said. I matched ship to token as directed.” She couldn’t help adding, “I got Valda’s tokens on the entire fleet, in case you have forgotten.”

Dag Byarin rubbed his eyes. “I know, Anchan. Forgive me. But you
must
not make an error with these tokens of mine.” His voice was so bleak, he looked so exhausted, she forbore questioning what sort of magic lay over his tokens.

Besides, she should not be there—she risked discovery every time she spoke. The spell of invisibility was hardly that. Even magic cannot make a thing exist and yet not exist. But it could draw the eye away, if you made the spell that blurred the air before you, and kept quiet.

Enough of it and her head throbbed. She had used it a great deal when passing from ship to ship in order to lodge one of Valda’s magical tokens on each, in a place vigilant sailors would not notice. Inexorably the magic, and the need to keep alert at all times, had sapped her strength.

So she said, “Your tokens are now in place, and each as you desired. My next task?”

Byarin rubbed his eyes again, and her nerves chilled when she saw that he was weeping. But he visibly gathered himself, and said, “Go down to the hold, here in the flagship. Ulaffa has made a place. You will see the rune on the bulkhead, past which is a tiny alcove. Rest. Eat. Next task is the battle, and Valda wants you rested and ready.”

“Who doesn’t know about Prince Kavna being with us?” Tau asked Jeje as the
Vixen
raced toward the rendezvous under a high west wind. He was putting the finishing touches on a fine courtly outfit he’d borrowed in pieces from various people through the fleet.

“The Venn?” Jeje loved seeing him sitting there on the capstan, his needle flashing in the sunlight, the metal scarcely less bright than his gold-touched hair in the wind. She’d thought the borrowed tunic-vest and shirt and trousers looked fine, but Tau had tutted, taken them off, tweaked and cut here and there, resewing until the fabric draped just so, and now it all fitted as if he’d been born in the clothes.

Tau smiled as he threaded his needle. “The Venn were probably the first to know when he set sail.”

He was applying to the umber-dyed linen tunic-vest a thin satin-stitch edging of color Jeje couldn’t put a name to but reminded her of the eastern sky just before the sun rose. That was in place of the gold thread he’d considered garish.

“Inda’s not supposed to know, except he does know,” Jeje said. Despite her impatience with courtly custom and clothing, she deeply appreciated the twisty thinking. “And Kavna knows Inda knows.”

“Kavna has wanted to meet Inda ever since you and I were living in Bren.”

“I remember. Heh! Kavna knows that Inda knows but Inda pretends he doesn’t know, I guess so that Deliyeth can think it’s a secret, except I know her gig crew knows Inda’s been there. We all sat under the flagship scuttles, passing some iced wine back and forth while the captains were up on deck brangling over who got the ‘honor’ of being first in the line against the Venn.”

“Speaking of Deliyeth,” Tau murmured, tying off his thread. “You
don’t
know about their king. Got it?”

“I see nothing, hear nothing!” Jeje said in a deep, flat voice.

Deliyeth stared through her stern windows at the approaching Sarendan flotilla. “I don’t believe it. We’re forming a battle line with ships full of merrymakers?”

Tau plucked the slim, gold-chased spyglass from the pocket of his long, Colendi paneled silk overtunic of palest mauve. There in the lead was Taz-Enja on his splendid brigantine. He stood squarely on the captain’s deck, a broad-brimmed hat shading his eyes. The wind fingered through the cluster of curled plumes in his hat. His clothes were bright in the sun—a silk shirt of violet, belted by a crimson sash with gold tassels. The widest-hemmed deck trousers Tau had ever seen rippled in the wind. Taz-Enja, whatever his age, had a good butt and fine upper legs, turning them to account in the tight upper portion of those absurd trousers, and the even more absurd high heeled, tassel-topped boots.