The trip would take nearly the full day. He watched the vessels using the time to order themselves. Fat and heavy modified merchant caravels lumbered to the front. These, he knew, from sitting in on briefings, had been adapted to look like the troop-carriers they would be in any normal port assault. In this case, however, they were not. They were hollow canards, meant to lead the way and attract the heaviest barrages from the formidable harbour mangonels, catapults, and scorpions.
Behind these would slip in the majority of the Malazan galleys. Swift and low, the troops they carried actually working the oars, they would strike while the caravels took the punishment – at least that was the plan.
The rest of the fleet, including the Insufferable, would follow.
Caught up in the atmosphere of the preparation, Nedurian had to remind himself that all this was actually merely a diversion, meant to keep attention focused on the water, and away from the palace.
It occurred to him that should these Malazans subdue Nap, they would effectively rule the seas and the entire coastline surrounding Quon Tali – a continent where none of the cities or states had invested in a navy of any significance. Why bother when you had potentially hostile neighbours on all sides? And hence his own lack of naval experience even after so many years.
So, he wondered, did this mage Kellanved know all this when he selected Malaz as a base from which to launch his ambitions? Or had he merely chosen to make the most of the available strengths of wherever he found himself? It was a debate that could go back and forth for ever, he supposed. Scholars might grind their quills down to nubs over it all – but only if they succeeded this day.
When afternoon came, he went from man to man and woman to woman, examining their gear, pulling on straps, and setting aside heavy equipment they wouldn’t be needing, such as the shovels and other siegeworking and saboteur gear. Their job would be to repel boarders. And there would be a lot of them, as the Napan fleet outnumbered them well over three to one.
Later, as the afternoon waned, a call went up from the high shrouds and everyone, Nedurian included, looked to the west. After a few moments he caught a glimpse: the bonfire atop the great lighthouse at the end of the Dariyal harbour mole. Defensive lookout during the day, and light to guide Napan mariners by night.
There was certainly no turning back now, for if they could see the lighthouse, then the Napan lookouts could see them.
*
It was a statement of where the Napan Isles’ power and interest lay that the traditional palace of the kings stood next to Dariyal’s harbour. Tarel hated the damp draughty place, and planned to move to the upland estate district of the capital once he’d settled things with his sister, which looked to be soon.
He and his inner circle of advisers – those who had backed him early on and now held high political appointments from him, and were profiting mightily from said positions – all waited, laughing a touch nervously and loudly, in one of the guardrooms overlooking the harbour while a steady stream of messengers came and went.
‘Fewer than fifty ships, you say?’ Tarel demanded of one naval officer messenger.
This officer bowed. ‘So say the lookouts.’
Tarel turned to High Admiral Karesh, frankly incredulous. ‘So few? Could this be a trick?’
The admiral shook his head. ‘No, my lord. Our spies on Malaz reported such numbers. This is all their complement, thrown in together against us. This usurper mage is a fool,’ he added, and chuckled in a self-satisfied way that irritated Tarel.
‘My sister is no fool,’ he snapped.
Admiral Karesh bowed, hands fluttering. ‘Of course, m’lord. But what choice does she have? She has thrown in her lot with these criminals and murderers.’
Tarel nodded to himself while peering through an arrow slit to the waters beyond the harbour. Yes, criminals and murderers. A dark mage and an assassin who – and he could not help but rub his neck – reportedly had already killed one king … ‘I do not see them,’ he complained.
‘Soon, m’lord. Then, as agreed, we allow them to push into the harbour. There they will not find us unprepared and surprised. Every vessel is already manned and crammed with soldiers. We will overwhelm them.’ He finished, confidently, ‘Not one Malazan ship will escape.’
Tarel eyed the corpulent fellow uneasily. He did not like such confidence – to him it bespoke stupidity. ‘My sister will be on board one of those vessels. It is her I do not want to escape.’
Admiral Karesh bowed again. ‘Of course, m’lord.’
Tarel found the eye of a waiting messenger. ‘A hundred gold Untan crowns to whoever brings me the head of the traitor Lady Sureth.’
The messenger bowed and darted from the chamber.
Admiral Karesh pursed his thick lips in disapproval. ‘Unnecessary, m’lord.’
‘It should help the fighting spirit, I imagine,’ Tarel opined, eyeing the open waters anew. He clenched and unclenched his hands and found them damp. What had he forgotten? Had he forgotten anything? Those impetuous lawless Malazans would be encircled and eliminated – along with his sister who sought refuge with them. Malaz would then be his for the plucking, and Nap would once again rule the southern seas.
All under his rule. He might go down in history as among the greatest of her kings and queens.
And as for this dread dark mage who had taken the island in his fist. Well, he had his check in place for that contingency as well.
What more could one do? One placed the pieces on the board as best one might and prayed. It was all in the hands of the gods now, and he must await with everyone else the turning of the throw.
Chapter 10
As if having lost her nerve for the coming fight, the Twisted peeled away from the flotilla at the last possible moment. She swept west, skirting along the base of the salt-stained stones of a towering seawall. Dancer watched from the side while the skeleton crew of volunteer sailors dashed from line to line, adjusting their running.
‘They’ll let us go,’ opined the veteran sailor on the wheel, Brendan. He’d been promoted to captain of the vessel but somehow couldn’t part from his usual station. ‘One less ship to fight.’
Dancer nodded his distracted agreement. Getting to shore somewhere, somehow, and relatively undetected, was the puzzle that occupied him. But – his gaze strayed to the shut cabin door – it wasn’t his responsibility. That lay elsewhere.
Surly’s Napans watched from the side as well, Surly herself among them. How they had howled when she climbed aboard! But what could they do? Throw her off? She’d played her hand well; demurring and quietly agreeing to Cartheron’s advice to hold back, all the while fully intending to come along anyway.
The main body of the force was some thirty Malazan fighters, hand-picked and led by Dassem, and including their early recruit Dujek and his shadow, Jack.
The last of the party was the Kartoolian mage. Tayschrenn stood with Dancer, which said a lot, as it implied he was comfortable with neither the Napans nor the Malazans, and apparently preferred to stand with a notorious assassin instead.
They now hugged Dariyal’s built-up city shore, the Napans scanning it eagerly for something. It was nearing dusk, the sun lowering towards the western horizon, more or less behind them – a deliberate choice of timing in the assault as it put the sun in the defender’s eyes.
Despite keeping a close eye on the shore Dancer was startled when a long low vessel came darting out between two piers and aimed straight for them, churning the waters with double-banks of oars.
‘’Ware!’ he shouted. ‘Ready to repulse!’
The Napans crowded the side. Surly stood behind, arms crossed, a strange sort of secret smile on her lips. The vessel came aside quickly, blue banners fluttering. It was a swift bireme, some sort of shore picket. Urko actually threw down a rope ladder then, and Dancer opened his mouth to object, but Surly raised a hand, asking for a moment.