“They have cut us off, then,” Balavere observed.
“Not yet.” Ta-hoding bellowed new orders. Painful creaks sounded above them, and Ethan anxiously looked upward. The adjustable spars had been twisted around so far that they were holding the sails almost parallel to the raft’s keel line.
“Think you they’ll take the strain?” Balavere was also gazing up into the webwork of singing rigging. The foremast groaned, appeared to bend slightly from the vertical.
“Did I not, I would never have given the order,” replied Ta-hoding. “If we did not try it, we would truly turn straight into these ten new rafts.
Continuing to accelerate, the Slanderscree curved tightly around back toward the canyon. When it became apparent to the infantry on the ice and the ten flanking rafts that their quarry was going to slide past instead of into them, the bowmen unleashed a rain of arrows in the icerigger’s direction.
One stuck tautly into the hessavar hide shield Ethan had been given. He stared at it for a second, then ducked back behind the railing as another shaft whizzed close by overhead.
A small group of Poyo infantry had managed to gain slightly on their companions. Now they were chivaning parallel to the icerigger. A few had even managed to slip beneath her hull, where they could not be seen. As Balavere had guessed, thick pika-pina cables were slung on the backs of several of the attackers.
Hunnar, looking tired but not worried, appeared on the helmdeck. “We will have to put men over the side.” An arrow landed at his feet, stuck quivering in the deck. Both Tran ignored it. “Our crossbowmen cannot pick them off quickly enough before they get beneath us.”
“Any we send over who fall behind would be lost instantly,” countered Balavere. He gestured at the swarming Poyo infantry, who were gathering in steadily greater numbers around the icerigger. “We cannot afford to lose many of our complement.”
“We cannot afford to have them jam our steering!” Young warrior confronted old.
A commotion forward temporarily brought the argument to a halt. Despite the danger, Ethan rose so he could see over the bow. A brown-gray arrowhead was streaming toward them from the vicinity of the nearing canyon.
“Looks like a sortie from the city.” Hunnar was standing close by him, gazing with satisfaction at the widening silver river pouring from the canyon mouth. “Our new brothers and sisters have come to help.”
With the Poyolavomaar fleet close behind and infantry preparing to ensnarl the Slanderscree’s steering mechanism in green cable, the arrival of forces from Moulokin saved Balavere and Hunnar further argument. The Moulokinese exploded into the unprepared Poyo troops. With the canyon wind canceling out the westwind, the Moulokinese soldiers now had the advantage of speed and maneuverability. They had timed their charge perfectly.
“Half the Poyolavomaar infantry succumbed to that initial surge, whereupon the Moulokinese arrowhead formation split, the soldiers curving around to left and right to race back toward their canyon. Some of them, in making the turn, came under fire from the nearest Poyo rafts and were cut down. Most were soon flanking the Slanderscree to port and starboard, exchanging victory yells with the sailors on board.
The canyon had become a familiar, gaping slash in the cliff wall. The icerigger slowed as she fought the powerful winds racing off the continent and down through the canyon, but so did the speed of her pursuers.
The Poyolavomaar infantry who remained made it a difficult last few moments, however. Shielded from the strong headwinds by the Slanderscree’s bulk, they were able to overtake her. However, between the escorting Moulokinese and the accurate fire of arbalesters positioned on the huge raft’s stern, no cable-carrying enemy soldier was able to close nearer than a dozen meters to the vulnerable steering skate.
They were within the towering walls of the canyon then, making slow progress inland with the Poyo fleet close behind. Once, one of the smaller pursuing rafts came almost within bow range. It mounted a pair of small catapults, one on each side of its single mast. Both were soon throwing skins filled with flaming oil at the wooden icerigger.
The Poyo catapulters had not compensated for the tremendously powerful headwind, however. Not only did the dangerous, fiery sacks fail to reach the retreating raft, but the wind held them up and carried them back to fall behind the catapult-mounting craft. Infantry tacking behind it scattered frantically as the flaming skins burst on the ice, sending burning oil in all directions.
The second Poyo ship hit sections of ice temporarily melted by the hot oil and slid awkwardly sideways as its runners lost purchase. Two more rafts piled up behind it, doing their best to avoid smashing into their out-of-control companion.
All this contributed immensely to the enjoyment of Moulokinese and sailors, who added hoots of derision and some especially choice Trannish insults to the confusion taking place in their wake.
Balavere permitted himself a crusty smile. “If all their attacks prove as ineffectual, we will have no trouble with these.”
“’Tis clear—I mean, it’s clear now why the Moulokinese didn’t report the Poyo fleet’s presence,” Ethan said thoughtfully. “Any neutral merchant raft was likely captured or frightened off, and those two rafts Minister Mirmib said were still out scouting will probably never return home.”
Balavere’s smile disappeared at Ethan’s words. He studied the scene behind them. Their pursuers were untangling and beginning to tack laboriously upcanyon after them. “They still owe much, friend Ethan. I fear that once we are safe behind the Moulokinese walls, they will give up for good this time.”
Ethan happened to see two figures conversing by the entrance to the main cabin: Teeliam and Elfa. “I don’t think so, Balavere. So long as this Rakossa has control, I don’t think they’ll ever give up. We may be here for a long, long time.”
XVII
THE SLANDERSCREE AND ITS Moulokinese escort slid in through the massive gate in the outer wall. Word of their return and the Poyo attack had resulted in full mobilization of the city. The wall was packed with armed Tran. Others waited in casual but still disciplined formation on the ice between the two walls, while rafts shuttled supplies out from the city itself. Ta-hoding brought the icerigger to a halt, reefed in most of her sail. “Why are we stopping here?” Ethan asked.
“Sir Hunnar has conveyed to me a wish to disembark, friend Ethan.”
Moving to the railing, Ethan saw that the knight and a majority of the icerigger’s crew was swarming iceward. To help defend the wall, naturally. Ethan ran to join them. September was already on the ice, moving awkwardly without his skates. Williams looked up as Ethan neared a boarding ladder.
“Aren’t you coming too, Milliken?”
“No, Ethan.” The teacher didn’t look at him. “You know I’m not much good in a fight.”
“I’ve seen you in combat, Milliken. You handle yourself as well as anyone.”
The teacher smiled gratefully. “Better one of us retain a partly charged beamer. Sure, I can fight with it. But when the charge is gone, I’d be an encumbrance. Swordplay’s not for me, Ethan.”
Unable to decide whether Williams was making a good strategic point or merely an excuse, Ethan said, “You’re probably right, Milliken. We’d better keep a beamer in reserve. Maybe you and Eer-Meesach can think of something to help.”
The schoolteacher appeared relieved. “We’ll try our best, of course.”
Ethan went over the side, bumping against the hull of the raft, the soft chunk, chunk of a sailor’s chiv sounding above him. His friend Williams, he knew, was no coward. He was perfectly right in insisting they keep a beamer aboard the ship. And he wasn’t much good with a sword.