No. He wouldn't come through. He realized now he had pinned his hopes on Garlthik's when they'd left the village, just as he'd once had hopes for his mother. Don't hope, he told himself. People don't come through.
"Now," continued Garlthik, "I know you won't be able to persuade the others to surrender. And not just because you can't speak. They'll hold out until the end because they'll be hoping things will turn their way. This is no time for hope, J'role, except for hope in me. I can save you. I can save your friends. At some moment, soon, you'll have to open the door. There'll bet a flash of activity, but I'll get it settled quick. Will you do this?
Twice for yes."
J'role hesitated, not sure how to answer, not sure if Iying would do much good. But it seemed it would buy them time. He knocked twice.
"Good lad. Good. I'll be waiting."
J'role pulled away from the door, and found the others waiting expectantly. He pointed to himself, then mimed pulling the bar up from the door. They all nodded. "Who is that person?" asked the captain. J'role shrugged, uncertain how to answer, too upset to try.
"What about your father?" Releana asked.
What about his father? His chin began to tremble. He hated this! Why did he always have to look out for his father His mother had put the thing in him. Where had his father been?
Why couldn't his father just be dead and gone?
After a moment the captain gathered everyone to the far side of the room. When they had all formed a tight group, she whispered, "I estimate we'll reach the Chakara within a few hours. I imagine that they'll try to attack her and kill the dwarven envoys. Since the Chakara won't be expecting the attack, Nikronallia will be able to get close enough to board her, and take her. He can stop the dwarfs, cause enough trouble to slow trade with them, and he gains another ship in the bargain."
Her strong, determined tone pulled J'role up from his misery. She paused, and everyone waited expectantly.
"I can't let this happen. I can't let the Breeton be used for this purpose. I'd rather see her sink. And sink she will. We have the means to do it, right here," the captain said, gesturing at the golden boxes containing the fire-coals. "We can burn the ship down."
"Captain," said Releana. "I'm not sure this would help, but I have some elemental air with me." She tapped the small pouch with her magical supplies. "I could combine it with the elemental fire-the fire-coals-to produce an explosion …"
The captain smiled. "We can rip a hole in this room, right at the water level, and the ship will flood. There is a chance we can survive the explosion if we're crafty, but no guarantees." She looked at each of them. "I cannot make this decision for any of you. If you would rather surrender …" Her voice trailed off.
J'role knew that of anyone in the room, he was the only one who might survive if they surrendered. But he had no desire to surrender. These were the people who had stood by him. He would rather die with them than sacrifice them for his own survival. In his mother's own painful way, she had taught him that much at least.
Each one nodded in turn. They would sink the Breeton.
25
The rocks, in his nightmare, fly through the air and strike his mother's forehead. The other inhabitants of the kaer throw stones at her, too. Children, adults. Everyone.
Charneale has gathered everyone for this purpose.
She stands in the fountain at the center of the Atrium, covered with her own blood. It runs down her face, soaks her gray robe. She is weeping, screaming for mercy. The blood splashes the cloth covering the statue of Garlen.
She screams for mercy, but none is given. She is possessed by a Horror, so the magician Charneale believes, and the ancient ritual of cleansing the kaer must be performed.
J'role sees his father in the far corner of the Atrium, just behind the ring of people throwing stones. Bevarden leans against the wall, weeping.
In the nightmare J'role is suddenly beside his father, who does not see him. J'role stares up at his father's face. At first he thinks his father is grieving for his mother, on her knees now, barely alive, swaying back and forth in the fountain.
But as J'role looks into his father's eyes, he realizes something else is at stake. There is another pain his father carries.
Captain Patrochian explained where the fire-coals should be placed for best effect. Some on the floor, forming a wide circle that would let the Serpent's waters rush in. Some on the wall that faced out toward the river, to help get water into the hold. Some against the door, so the water would flood the rest of the ship. And some placed on the walls that led to the storerooms on either side.
"Our job," she said, "is to get as much water into the ship as possible. As the water rushes in, the ship will sink a little more, and then more water will come in, and so on, flooding more and more of the ship." She hesitated, her large blue eyes looking down, then "Until the Breeton on is dragged to the Serpent's bottom."
Everyone got to work, setting up the boxes where the captain had indicated. They pulled the nails from packing crates and pounded them into the walls and floor to make braces to hold the boxes in place. While hammering all the nails, they could shear the mutineers shouting to know what was going on inside the hold. "Ignore them," the captain said tersely.
Then Garlthik arrived, pleading with J'role through the door, telling mm to think of his father. J'role steeled his heart, and set his focus on the task at hand.
Finally the mutineers began to batter the door down. Nikronallia promised they'd bring out a cannon if they had too, despite the threat of the fire-coals. "If you care at all about the Breeton, Patrochian, you'll open up now!"
"It's not mine anymore you idiot," the captain answered under her breath. "I don't care at all" But J’role knew she was lying.
Everyone but Releana began to drag the crates they'd set against the door back to one corner of the hold. The crates would serve as their shelter from the blast.
They hoped.
With the crates gone from the door, only the wooden bar remained in place. As the mutineers continued to beat and pound on the door, the bolts slowly began to give way.
Outside the door J'role heard someone shout, "Captain Nikronallia, we've spotted the Chakara! We'll be on her in minutes!"
"Be up in a minute," Nikronallia called. Then, "It's all over, Patrochian. Surrender."
"We're still thinking it over."
"Bah!"
The mutineers continued to pound on the door. It shuddered and creaked and began to crack.
As Releana set to work opening each of the golden boxes, the room's temperature immediately began to rise. From her pouch she withdrew her own golden box, which J'role assumed was also made of orichalcum, though it was smaller than the ship's boxes.
She opened it and then seemed to be pulling out a string though nothing was actually visible.
She walked to each of the boxes and appeared to be tying knots out of something invisible at the edges of the heat that flowed out of each box's opening. Every so often she reacted with pain, as if she'd burnt her fingers. Watching her actions J'role imagined Releana tying strands of air and fire elemental together, as if they were made of long, invisible tendrils.
All magic passed through the astral plane, the place where it was most real. Thus, it might be possible that the bits of elemental air and fire existed in one form in the physical world and in another form on the astral plane. Watching Releana work, it occurred to J'role that she, a magician, could probably see into the astral plane and manipulate those parts that were the true magic, the parts that existed on the astral plane, using actions on this plane, the plane of earth.