“Almost nothing.”
“Then you and I are going to have a long talk when I get back.”
“You’re making me nervous,” said Shim. “The streets are choking with the Crab’s men. I don’t think we have that kind of time.”
“Such little faith,” said Argoth. “You worry about the tactics. I’ll worry about the strategy.”
Shim rolled his eyes. “I know what you’re doing.”
“Oh?”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but now’s not a time to protect your friends by keeping them in the dark.”
“Yes, it is. Especially if I don’t return.”
“Well, then let’s hope our blueberry Divine is as ineffectual as he seems.”
“Ineffectual?”
“You haven’t heard?”
Argoth shrugged.
Shim pointed at the Skir Master’s chaser. “Look.”
The chaser stood out from the other merchant ships and galleys like a doe amid a herd of goats. The Ardent was a special ship; she stretched twice as long as she was wide, fine-lined, and able to set an amazing amount of sail. Half a dozen sailors scrambled up the rigging of the two masts. And then Argoth saw it. “Why isn’t she rigged with square sails?” A Skir Master’s ship didn’t need fore and aft rigging to sail close to the wind. You didn’t tack in a skir ship. You ran on an acre of square canvas, rigged with wide studding sails on booms to both sides of each of the main sails. You ran like a dolphin in the wake of the creature’s wind.
“The old skir died on the voyage over.”
“Died?”
“That’s what’s been noising about. Took them two weeks longer than planned to get here.”
“Died,” said Argoth. That was good news indeed.
“And he couldn’t catch another,” said Shim. “Mokad has grown weak.”
They reached the bottom of the street and proceeded along the docks. Two porters rolled a fat barrel onto a loading pallet next to a merchant ship. Another tried to steady a nervous mule that powered the boom to move that pallet. In front of the next ship, an officer inspected a handcart loaded with wicker cages full of russet chickens. A whistle sounded, and a group of boys, young sailors who had been standing in a cluster on the wharf, strode to the gangplank. One of them lingered, letting a girl with dark hair tie a bright blue scarf about his neck. A gull standing on a post next to them squawked, then launched itself just over the tops of the crowds and wheeled past the Ardent.
Argoth pushed through the crowd and stood before the gangplank, the water slapping at the wood posts and the ship’s hull. The hull gleamed. It was said that the Skir Master had his slaves scrape and wax the hull between every voyage to keep her fast.
She was painted in a dull gray. There were no striped sails. A stealthy ship. The only bright colors were the blue, yellow, and red eyes painted on the prow and each of the oar paddles.
Such eyes, it was believed by sailors, helped a ship avoid shoals and sandbars. But they were also a sign of the Glory of Mokad. I can see you, those eyes said, I am with you, via my servants, even upon the waters and in far lands. To some this gave comfort. To others it was a warning.
A large crowd clustered about Argoth. Bosser, the Prime, and others stood among them.
Bosser smoothed his long mustache, watching the last of the fire lances swing aboard. “This is madness.”
“Indeed,” said Argoth. “I wish the Skir Master had come to stay. But I do what I am bid.”
“They are cutting us off,” said the Prime.
“But you have the new weaves.”
“Gah,” said Bosser. “It’s like giving a starving man one withered fig.”
They talked of business then: what manner of defense they could prepare along the rivers, and how long it would take to cast more fire lances. Then the captain had the mate call all aboard, and he bid the warlords farewell.
Argoth’s quarters lay in the stern under the aftercastle, but he did not inspect them. Instead he turned to those on the docks. A number of the men he commanded had joined the crowd. One fellow suggested that now perhaps was the time to strike a deal for one of Argoth’s daughters. Argoth shouted out that Serah would drive a much harder bargain than he. The crowd laughed, but Argoth worried, wondering if she’d left yet.
Then it all came to an end. The first mate called for the gangplank to be removed and the moorings untied. Then the oarsmen on the starboard side shoved the ship away from the dock. A twelve-man rowboat pulled them away from the dock. Then the captain called for the oars. The deck held benches for thirty oars, fifteen to a side, each with two men on them. A drummer, seated in the stern, played a short rhythm and the oarsmen in unison dipped their oars. The drummer played a different rhythm and the oarsmen set themselves. Another tap to the light drum, and the men pulled. The taps continued and the oarsmen pulled in time to them, the eyes dipping in and out of the water.
When they cleared the docks and turned the ship, the captain ordered the oars back and a number of the sails unfurled. The men climbed the rigging and dropped the canvas. It snapped in the wind, filled, then the Ardent leaned and leapt forward under his feet.
Argoth turned and looked back. The fortress standing upon the hill with the morning sun gleaming off its towers and walls, the temple on the second hill, the rows of buildings and the fine streets, the white cliffs behind-it was all beautiful. A glistening, rich land. He loved it like no other he’d ever lived in. And somewhere in those green hills and vales were his wife and children. All the Lions had left with him. Which meant Serah could slip away unseen.
A midshipman appeared at Argoth’s side and relayed that the Divine requested his presence up on the deck of the aftercastle.
Argoth nodded, took one last glance, then joined the Divine and captain on the upper deck.
The Skir Master wore dark blue trousers, a dark shirt, and a gray, close-fitting coat. About his wrist he wore a leather band that glinted with metal. Argoth assumed those metal bits were weaves. Some were probably escrum. The Skir Master did not appear feeble. Perhaps he lost his skir simply because those creatures too were susceptible to age and death.
The Skir Master looked directly at Argoth. “Don’t waste your time. Your future lies in front of you, not behind.”
“Master?” said Argoth.
“I’m not all blind, nor deaf. I know what my visit has meant to the lords of this land.”
Argoth said nothing.
“But in the end there must be priorities.”
“Yes, Great One,” said Argoth. Then he stood there in an uncomfortable silence watching the sailors move about their tasks below. The ship sailed out of the harbor and into the wide sea. After a time, Argoth spoke. “Great One, I need to check on the seafire below. It needs to breathe. Otherwise, the vapor can build up and crack the barrels.”
That was a lie, but none on this ship would know it. Those who had worked with the seafire might wonder, but before they could question him, they’d be dead. He sighed at that thought. They were good men. Good men caught in events beyond their control. Good men who did not deserve to die.
“Be quick,” said the Skir Master. “For I shall go fishing very soon. And I will want you here to observe.”
Fishing for skir. Argoth had never seen it done before. “Yes, Great One,” said Argoth. Then he left the Skir Master. On his way he surveyed the ship’s boats. There were three of them. The two larger ones had been turned over and stacked, the medium-sized one inside the larger, forward of the oars. Ropes bound them tightly to the deck. But the third, an eighteen-footer, hung by davits off the stern. If there was to be any escape, it would be in that boat.
Argoth descended the stair to the main deck and entered the doorway to the aft cabins. A narrow stair twisted down. Argoth descended this to the lower deck. He asked the cook where he might find a hatchet. Then, hatchet in hand, he walked past the goats, the water room, and barrels of hard bread.