That was enough to make me open my eyes. It was still dark, but the night was softening above the cliffs on our left and sunrise couldn’t be far away. As Malekrin had said, the boat was in view — though not quite as I remembered it. It took me a few moments to appreciate what had happened: that the tide had been out when the palace guard had landed and now was in, so that the boat was sitting in low water, some distance from the diminished shoreline.
Suddenly, with no conscious thought, I realised that my simple plan was evolving. Because out upon the beach, I could see blunt silhouettes backed by a dying fire; the contingent from the palace was still camped there. Conversely, I couldn’t see anyone aboard the boat. If we could secure it, could capture their only means of leaving this wretched shore, then that was just as good a bargaining tool as Malekrin’s life. With the two together, they might even listen to me.
“Can you get us closer?” I whispered. “I mean, without anyone on board seeing, or us running aground?”
Malekrin considered. “We’re shallower than they are. We could row in if I stow the mast… it would be easier without the monster in the way.”
“His name’s Saltlick,” I corrected automatically. “Do your best, will you?”
Malekrin was right, though; Saltlick’s bulk filling half the small boat made it tricky to take the mast down, let alone to do it without noise. Even in that, however, the boy worked with deft efficiency. While I worked with an oar to stop us drifting, he dropped the sail and tidied it away, then hammered out the pins that kept the mast in place and, with my assistance, lowered it along the boat. We had to prop one end on Saltlick’s chest, and he still didn’t stir; his breath was coming in shallow tugs by then, and his skin looked pastier than ever in the greying gloom.
Taking an oar each, we nudged closer and closer to the enemy vessel. With the current on our side, it took us a mere few minutes to edge within the shadowed lee of their port side. Throughout our approach, I’d seen no one, nor any sign of activity from the camp upon the shore. The only noise was the lap of the sea against their flank and the creak of straining wood, enough between them to mask any sound as we brushed alongside the larger craft.
Now came the difficult part. For all I knew, there might be a dozen men sleeping within, hidden by their boat’s high flank. Once I was sure Malekrin had us under control and we weren’t about to drift away, I eased up from a crouch, palms flat against the other vessel’s side. I’d need to be standing to see over; not easy when the surface beneath my feet was in constant motion. Moreover, I couldn’t shake the conviction that all I’d see if I succeeded was a palace soldier staring back.
I eased my head above the summit. No one was looking my way, but that wasn’t quite the relief it might have been — for ahead, staring out towards the shore, two shadowy figures stood guard. We wouldn’t be taking the boat without a fight.
I ducked back, held up two fingers to Malekrin, pointed to left and right.
“Why can’t the monster fight them?” Malekrin whispered.
“He’s not a monster,” I muttered, “and he doesn’t like fighting.” Ignoring Malekrin’s look of incredulity, I added, “Can you handle the one on the left?”
“Without my knife?”
I took it from my pocket, handed it to him. “But don’t hurt them,” I mouthed. “Let’s not make things worse than they are.”
“It might be nice to know who I’m fighting.”
“Bad people. That’s all you need to know.”
“And what about Seadagger?”
I suppressed a groan. I couldn’t care less about his stupid Seadagger, but it would hardly do to have Saltlick drifting out to sea. Of course an anchor was too much to ask of so small a boat. I looked around for a protrusion to tie off against on the larger vessel, found nothing.
Damn it, this plan was getting more out of hand by the minute! For a long moment, I fought to resist suggesting that we simply sail on, head for Altapasaeda alone. Estrada, Navare and Alvantes’s guardsmen could surely look after themselves.
Only, they were outnumbered, many of them had been hurt in the shipwreck — and more than that, I imagined myself trying to explain to Saltlick what I’d done, saw vividly the anger and disappointment in his face. Even if I could live with the thought of abandoning Estrada, there was no way I could bear that look.
I glanced round for a weapon. Seeing the mallet Malekrin had used earlier, I slipped it into a pocket. “Give me the rope,” I whispered, “and be ready.”
Malekrin passed the thick mooring rope to me, and with much discomfort, I clenched it between my teeth. Then, not giving myself any more time to think about it, I grasped the upper edge of the larger boat and swung myself up.
Again, though I’d moved as silently as I was able, I was certain I’d come face to face with two angry palace guardsmen — but as I rolled down the other side, they were still stood in the prow, staring away from me. I spat out the rope and looped it round the nearest rower’s bench, tying a hasty knot. Then I gave the cable a tug, wishing I’d thought to establish the signal before I went.
Thankfully, Malekrin understood. In an instant he’d clambered to join me, moving soft and fast as a greased cat. Evidently, sailing wasn’t the only hobby he’d occupied himself with back home — for no one moved like that unless they’d spent time getting into places others wanted them kept out of. I gave him a nod of approval, which he ignored.
Taking the mallet from my pocket, I wished I’d given Malekrin the man on the right. I’d picked the bigger of the two for myself, and not only was he better armed, he was infinitely more disposable.
Too late now — and at least I still had the element of surprise. I started towards my man; felt more than saw Malekrin move on my left. My eyes flicked from my diminutive weapon to the nape of my opponent’s neck, and I wondered what chance the one had against the other. An arm’s length away, I readied my swing, took one more brief step…
Something creaked beneath my foot — and though it sounded exactly like every other creak that cursed boat had made, nevertheless the man before me turned his head a fraction. Adjusting too late, I swiped his temple, lost my grip, and watched the mallet spiral towards the sea.
The splash of its final impact was masked by the crunch of his fist against my jaw.
He was fast, I had to give him that — though my appreciation of his athleticism was dulled by pain, first from his punch then my head smacking timber, as I lost my footing and tumbled back. I tried to regain my feet, reconsidered when I realised that would only put my face back in the way of his fist. That brief indecision cost me dearly; before I knew it, his hand was around my throat and dragging me to my feet, his other clenched and drawn back for another blow…
“Get off him!” Malekrin had his knife to the second man’s throat. “Or your friend gets the closest shave of his life.”
I cringed. Had he really said that? I fought the urge to apologise: he’s young, you see, his quipping needs some work. Under the circumstances, however, I was prepared to let it go — for the man I’d been fighting, or rather being savagely beaten by, now had his hands off me and above his head.
“Good choice,” I told him, successfully hiding my embarrassment. “My partner means business.”
I darted to grab a length of rope from the stern and hurriedly bound his feet and hands, my heart hammering all the while lest he realise how illusory our advantage was. Once I had him secured, I turned my attention to Malekrin’s man. And only once I had them both safely trussed did I dare to consider breathing normally again. We had their boat — and I had the infamous Bastard Prince. My plan was actually working.
At no point had it occurred to me I’d make it this far, and I hardly knew what to do next. I moved to the prow, looked out towards the shore. Compared with when I’d last been here, there was quite a camp beneath the cliffs now: two large tents, presumably stowed in the boat for just such a crisis, sat side to side of a wide fire pit hemmed with stones, from which a lazy thread of smoke lost itself in the slate grey sky.