Gallen nodded, took his incendiary rifle, sighted for a second, and fired into the sky. Plasma streamed high, lighting the darkness, and hit one of the scouts, splashing enough so that a second also fell.
A third wheeled out over the water, and Gallen fired. But the scout was far away by then, and it dodged the incoming plasma.
Gallen fired twice into the ship for good measure, and Maggie watched several men throw themselves overboard. A dozen men rowed into view from the far side of the ship, and Gallen fired into their boat at a hundred yards. The plasma rushed toward them, a bolt of lightning, and for ten seconds after the hit, the sailors sat burning in the inferno, flesh melting from bones, so that they were skeletons that crumbled in the furnace.
And then the horror of what had just happened-of the murders Gallen had just been forced to commit-fell upon Maggie like a solid weight, like an invisible stone falling from heaven. She saw him standing with head downcast, shoulders limp, limned in the light of the fires.
“Oh, god forgive us,” Ceravanne whispered, and then it was over.
They were rocking in the lifeboat, and the sea was fairly calm. Gallen made a little whining noise, a cry of shock and disgust and fear, and he let his rifle clatter to the hull of the boat.
Men were out in the water, swimming for their lives, and the flaming ship was sailing to oblivion, making a sound like the rushing of wind, while spars and timbers cracked. And Maggie knew that some of those men were her enemies, servants of the Inhuman, and it was dangerous to show them any mercy. She knew that they should row out there and cut the men down.
But none of them had the heart for it. Gallen shook his head, muttering, “I know what I’m fighting for, but what in the hell am I fighting against?”
No one answered. Instead, Ceravanne brought out her bag of Healing Earth and began to administer to Tallea. Maggie watched out the back of the boat, to a cloud on the horizon, and at that moment, she saw that the Inhuman was but a shadow, a vapor. Every time they tried to strike against the Inhuman’s agents, they faded back and disappeared. She wondered how they would be able to strike against enemies who would not face her.
As Gallen took the oars and rowed toward the distant shore, where the city lights dusted the hillside like flour, Orick began reciting the last rites for those who had died.
Zell’a Cree dove deep beneath the burning ship, and looked up. It seemed for a second that the sky was aflame-or as if the water had turned to amber that scattered the sunlight. Then he climbed for the surface, broke through.
The burning ship roared like a waterfall, and Zell’a Cree floated a moment, floundering, then a wave lifted him and he saw a dark ball floating in the water. He swam to it. It was Captain Aherly, his bald head lolling as if it had been crushed.
Zell’a Cree clung to the floating corpse, and gritted his teeth, looked up at the scouts who were wildly flapping about the ship. All of its masts were aflame, and there was nowhere for them to land, yet the scouts seemed to be circling in the hope of helping survivors.
One of them spotted Zell’a Cree and dove toward him, just as a finger of light arced up from the sea. The scout turned into a flaming skeleton that dropped like a meteor, splashing not far away.
Poor Ssaz, Zell’a Cree thought. Some of the sailors were getting away in a boat, and another finger of light touched them, sent them screaming into torment.
And then Zell’a Cree was nearly alone in the water. Dead, nearly all his men were dead, and of those in the water, he couldn’t guess how many might make it to shore. One lone scout had escaped.
Zell’a Cree fumbled for the bag tied to his belt, feeling the contents. His last Word was there, whole and safe, more precious to him than diamonds. Zell’a Cree let his eyes adjust, until he could see Gallen’s little lifeboat tossing in the waves, and beyond it the lights along the distant shore, and then he struck out.
It would be a far swim, but Zell’a Cree was Tosken. He ripped the bag from his belt, put it between his teeth, and his mood grew foul as he followed the boat.
* * *
Chapter 17
The wind and current carried the lifeboat east for many miles, so that as Gallen began rowing, they drew farther and farther from the city.
Ceravanne lay in the boat, stunned by what had happened. She carried the memories of her own suicides, suicides that she had been forced to endure in order to evade the Inhuman, but she had seldom seen such butchery. She’d seldom actually seen men seek to annihilate one another, and she was shocked to the core of her soul.
There was nothing to do but tend to the wounded. She administered the last of her Healing Earth to the Caldurian. The woman had a slash across her belly. It was long, but ran little deeper than the flesh at its deepest point. No vital organs seemed to be hit. Still, Ceravanne did not know if the woman could heal.
Maggie was talking to Tallea, trying to keep the Caldurian calm, her mind occupied. “Are you well? Are you comfortable?” Maggie asked. “Here, let me move, so you can lean your head back.”
Tallea leaned her head back at an odd angle, and after a minute seemed to register the question. “Comfortable. I’m comfortable.” Maggie held her hand over Tallea’s wound, and blood seeped through it. It was a large wound, too big for the Healing Earth to help much.
“Is there anything more that you can do?” Maggie asked Ceravanne.
“No,” Tallea answered, apparently believing that Maggie had asked a question of her.
Ceravanne considered. The nanodocs in her own blood were far more potent than the Healing Earth, but she was proscribed by law from giving her blood to a nonhuman. The nanodocs could establish a colony in her, which would extend her life by decades. Ceravanne pulled a knife from Tallea’s sheath and cut her own wrist in violation of the law. Then she let the blood flow into Tallea’s wound. In a moment, Ceravanne’s own bleeding stopped as the nanodocs closed her cut.
“That is all I can do for her,” Ceravanne said. “It may be enough, if no vital organs have been punctured.” So Maggie held the woman as Gallen rowed the boat, long into the night. Soon, Tallea faded to sleep. In two hours, while the moons were riding high, they landed upon a rocky beach where a large creek spilled into the ocean. Gallen, Ceravanne, and Maggie carried Tallea from the boat, then dragged the boat ashore into deep brush, and set it down. Ceravanne helped Maggie form a bed of leaves under the shelter of a large tree, and they placed Tallea in it. Orick was gathering wood, while Gallen made a small fire with matches from his pack.
When he got it going, everyone sat beside it for a while, and Ceravanne looked over to Tallea. She was surprised to see the woman conscious again, watching her from the comer of her eyes.
Ceravanne went to her side, to see if the Caldurian needed anything. Tallea clutched at Ceravanne’s robe and whispered, “Life brings joy, only if serve something greater than selves.” Her voice was weak.
“Yes, you said that to us several nights ago,” Ceravanne said. Ceravanne looked at the woman helplessly. “Is there anything you need? Water, food?”
Tallea shook her head fiercely and whispered, “A year ago, you came to Babel. I served you then. Not well.”
Ceravanne caught her breath, studied the woman’s face. “Yes, one of my clones came here, before I was renewed,” Ceravanne whispered low enough so that the others would not hear. “It was lost, and never returned. What happened to it?”
Tallea wet her lips, looked away, and closed her eyes. “Dead, I think. That one dead. I wanted to tell when I saw you, but I not want Inhuman to hear.” She coughed, then winced at the pain in her side.
Ceravanne bent low, brushed her lips over the woman’s forehead, and held her for a long time.