“Calamon.”
The two men stood, looking down into the calm water as shoals of fish came close enough to investigate the giant thing that had invaded their habitat. The first officer appeared to be a quiet man, possibly a result of the slight language difficulties, but he tended to keep himself away from the crew, often standing alone at the rail.
“You have questioned the princess, captain?”
Ghassan snorted.
“If that’s what you wish to call her. She can call herself princess, concubine, queen or goddess if she wants. What she is is a spoiled brat and possibly the most dangerous thing we’ve ever had on board.”
Calamon’s face dipped into a frown.
“I thought when she came aboard that you were friends, sir?”
The captain shook his head.
“We were, when we were children in M’Dahz; the two of us and my brother. But while I chose an honourable path and am making a life and serving a greater good, she appears to have spent the last two decades serving only herself and growing to resent everything else. When I was a boy I was always fascinated by tales of the Pelasian satraps and their armies, with elephants and armoured cavalry and their perfumed palaces and so on.”
He sighed.
“But I see now that Pelasia, whatever it is truly like, has ruined Asima; turned her into a spiteful witch.”
With a laugh, he gestured out to the northwest.
“I can only pity the poor bastards in Velutio that are going to get saddled with her for the next few decades. She’s been on board for just over a day and she’s already ruined my ship.”
Calamon smiled.
“Hardly ruined, captain. Think how much worse her sabotage could have been if she knew the first thing about ships…”
“I suppose.”
Once more the two men fell silent, staring out at the sea.
“Did you lock her in?”
Ghassan turned to regard his first officer.
“Had to. Why?”
“Very unpleasant with no fresh air, sir. Trapped in a room with a slop bucket. It’s not as though she could do much during the day with the crew up and about, sir.”
Ghassan shook his head.
“At the very least she could make another run for it. I really wouldn’t put it past her to jump overboard in her underwear and swim for the nearest island.”
Calamon opened his mouth to reply with a sly smile, but was interrupted with a call from aloft and his words went unsaid.
“Sail ho!”
The two senior officers snapped their heads back and peered up through the rigging. The boy at the top of the main sail was gesturing desperately out to the east past where the workmen dealt with the damaged rudder and off beyond the stern.
Ghassan and Calamon ran across the deck to the rear rail, hurdling the carpenters who sat cross legged, working feverishly.
Shading their eyes and squinting into the low morning sun, they could just make out the shape of the ship ploughing toward them on a direct course.
“Tell me there are other naval vessels out this far, Calamon.”
The first officer shook his head.
“I’d seriously doubt it sir. Too close to Pelasian waters for anyone unless they’re making for Velutio like us.”
“And that’s coming from the wrong direction for a Pelasian” Ghassan grimaced. “Besides, I think the sail shape’s wrong.”
As they watched, Ghassan started in horror to see a sudden flare as a mass of burning material arced up from the other ship and shot toward them across the waves, the orangey-green flare joining the bright glare of the sun for a moment before it crashed down with a splash into the water several hundred yards from the hull.
“How the hell did it get that close without the lookout seeing it earlier, captain.”
Ghassan grumbled.
“It’s facing this way and coming out of the sun. We’re lucky he noticed it that soon. Whoever that is, they knew we were here and they planned it carefully. And they’re testing the range with their artillery, so they have no intention of treating this as a light engagement… they’re out for blood.”
Calamon nodded.
“Pirates. Permission to stand the crew and the artillery to and get us moving as best we can?”
“We’re barely manoeuvrable, Calamon.”
“Better barely moving than a stationary target, sir. If we sit here and wait, they’ll find the range and burn us to cinders.”
Ghassan grumbled. The man was right. They had to at least try and manoeuvre their way into a better position.
“Alright, turn us into them. Use the oars as rudders like they used to do in the old days. Once we’re on course, give me ramming speed.”
Calamon blinked.
“Are we not going to try and outrun them, captain?”
“We’d not succeed, Calamon, but at least if we close the gap we make it harder for them to bombard us and it’ll come down to a matter of marine versus cutthroat. If we’re really lucky, they’ll turn as we get close and we’ll manage to ram them. I doubt they’ll be that stupid, but it’s possible. The Wind of God has got a bit of a reputation, after all.”
The first officer nodded, saluted, and ran off to shout orders around the deck.
The oarsmen, woken rudely from their rest, ran to their seats and began very professionally to ship their oars. The engineers clambered into the artillery tower and started to arm, turn and crank their grisly weapons. Marines poured from the doorway below deck and formed up in the centre under their commander’s gaze, settling their armour into place and readying their weapons.
“Oars to the water” Ghassan bellowed. “Get us moving! Bank to starboard with the steering oars and bring us about!”
Ghassan took a deep breath. As if he didn’t have enough to deal with, now it was pirates too. He stared up to the lookout aloft.
“Can you get any detail?”
“Not sure, sir, but I think it’s the Empress!”
Ghassan rolled his eyes and slammed his fist on the rail. Of course it was the bloody Empress. What else could go wrong with this voyage. That at least explained how they’d managed to get into such a position. Samir must have found out they were taking on Asima at M’Dahz and shadowed them until they were in the middle of the open sea.
He slapped his forehead in amazement. Asima must be working with him. She’d effectively crippled the ship just in time for him to bear down on them with his artillery firing as he came.
There was an old superstition that having a woman on board was unlucky.
Certainly this one was.
In which captains clash
Samir frowned at the man in the bow, staring out into the blue.
“And you’re sure it’s her?”
“Sure as shit, sir.”
The captain of the Dark Empress shook his head in puzzlement.
“Then what the hell are they doing? Ghassan’s a good sailor and has uncanny sight. He must have seen us by now, so why are they just wallowing like that?”
The lookout shook his head.
“Can’t see anything wrong with her. Maybe they haven’t seen us yet?”
“Well I wouldn’t want to be accused of being all sneaky, mister Col” Samir grinned. “Let’s wake ‘em up.”
Turning away from the bow, he rushed across to the central artillery castle and pointed at the fire thrower.
“How close can you get to the enemy with that thing without actually hitting her?”
The artillery man shrugged.
“If we wait a few minutes, I can part their hair with it, captain… well, singe it anyway.”
Samir shook his head.
“I want to give him enough warning to face us properly. Fire a few ranging shots as we close.”
The burly engineer frowned.
“What for sir? Surely the less prepared they are, the better?”