'Oh.'
'And talked. It was terrible. Thasha, are you in love with Fulbreech?'
'Maybe,' she said softly, glaring at him. Of course even maybe was an exaggeration; a truer reply would have been, Not yet, but where were you? But Pazel had no right to ask such questions. And Greysan didn't cringe when they kissed.
'I think you got older while I was gone,' he said.
'Only by three days, you blary fool.'
'They must have been Darkling Days,' said Pazel, making her laugh uncomfortably.7
He reached for her again. Thasha stood frozen; Pazel made as if to brush her lips with his fingers. But some kind of doubt overcame him, and he ended up idiotically pressing her nose. He snatched back his hand, gaping like one bereft of speech.
'I drank your blood,' he said at last. 'On Simja, I mean. In the milk.'
Thasha was frustrated almost to despair. 'You are absolutely the weirdest boy I've ever met,' she said. Turning on her heel, she raced back up the ladderway to the topdeck.
Thirty sails, and five hundred frightened men at the ropes, and terrible slow turns when the cliffs seemed close enough to touch — but they were gaining speed, and the mouth of the cove was ever nearer. Already the wind was freshening, the jibsails full and the topgallants tight and straining. Thasha looked at the headland, a black basalt cliff falling straight as a curtain into the sea, and half-expected to see the Jistrolloq appear from behind it, with all her guns run out, and a horde of soldiers crowding her deck. It could happen at any time: Diadrelu had not been very precise about the distance.
Rose was pulling every trick of speed a captain could in a desperate quarter-hour, backing the topsails, sheeting the jibs to windward and leeward with each tack, even firing cannon from the bow so that the recoil might aid the men's efforts at the braces. There was no hope of stealth, after all, not with that spy on the hilltop. With such a mismatch in fighting strength, moreover, the Jistrolloq had to know that they would run. But would they even get the chance?
Pulling herself up the quarterdeck ladder, Thasha found all the senior officers assembled, plus Ott and Chadfallow, and a huge Turach with a broad forehead and cold blue eyes: Drellarek's replacement, she presumed. She could no longer see any ghosts, although Uskins was pale enough to pass for one.
'We'll make it, surely?' he was saying. 'We'll just squeak out?'
'How d'ye expect us to answer you?' said Elkstem irritably. 'We don't know how close she is. We don't even know the windspeed out there.'
'In five minutes we shall,' said Rose.
The men were all clustered around him, between the binnacle and the rail. The captain was the only man not on his feet: he had sent for a stool and his campaign desk, and had them bolted securely to the deck. The stool was finished with some tawny hide, and swivelled; the desk looked like a large wooden box on legs. Then Rose sprung two latches and raised the lid. Inside was a writing space protected by walls on three sides, and half-covered by a wooden canopy. There were small latched drawers, a stack of paper held down by battens, a plotting compass, an abacus and a knife.
Thasha found the sight of that desk alarming, and she saw that some of the officers did as well. Was Rose about to lose himself in paperwork? Just how crazy was he?
The captain began whittling a pencil. 'Attend me,' he said, as if the group would dream of doing anything else. 'This contest may end in minutes, or not for hours, or even days. If it ends swiftly we shall lose. The White Reaper is no idle nickname for the Jistrolloq. Isn't that so, Mr Uskins?'
The first mate nodded. 'Beyond a doubt, Captain. She's a killer and she wants for nothing. An armoured bow, she has, and four ship-shattering bow carronades. And a hundred and forty long guns down each flank.'
'Twice our count,' said Rose, 'and a crew drilled constantly in their use. This ship will be matchwood if the Jistrolloq rakes us with a broadside. And at a distance too they can best us. They'll be better shots, and aiming for a bigger target. They will also be faster, in these waters. Our size is nothing but a hazard, in short, until we find large waves and tearing wind.'
'Those may be close at hand, sir,' put in Alyash.
'Don't interrupt, Bosun!' snapped Fiffengurt. 'The captain's well aware of the conditions.'
'That I am,' said Rose. 'The storm brewing in the east will not be enough, however. Until the wind turns, Bramian herself will tame it. And there are shoals to either side of us, quelling the waves. No, we will not come into our own for two hours at the earliest. Until then we must stay alive. That means fire brigades, and chain-pumps, and any dead removed quickly to the surgical annexe, lest the sight of them demoralise the crew. Uskins, you will restrict Byrd and Tanner to strategic fire until further notice: we don't carry enough shot to waste it in a hopeless spray.
'And give no face but fury to the crew. Fury, gentlemen: not nerves, not reassurance. Let them see nothing but the mortal danger of displeasing you. That will save them from worrying overmuch about the Jistrolloq. Now then, Ott: will the Black Rags strike us with sorcery?'
(Obviously, Rose, whispered a voice from nowhere. Only Thasha and the captain raised their heads.)
'Depend on it,' said Ott. 'They have not brought Sathek's Sceptre all the way from Babqri just to send up a signal-flare.'
'What can they do with the thing? Change the winds?'
There were anxious hisses at the suggestion. But Ott shook his head. 'I haven't a clue,' he said, 'but it was for that sceptre that Arunis killed the Babqri Father.'
'And Kuminzat's daughter, as it happened,' said Rose. 'Have we any other idea of their motives?'
Alyash cleared his throat. 'Captain Rose, the Father never quite believed in the Great Peace. And he had a particular fascination with the Chathrand. We were already in his sights. It may be that he had already shared his suspicions with Kuminzat and the other officers assembled for Treaty Day.'
Rose pursed his lips, as though he found the remark disappointingly simple. After a moment he said, 'Their greatest advantage may be that man on the hilltop. A view to either side of Sandplume could well decide this contest. What has become of your falcon, Mr Ott?'
An expression like none Thasha had ever seen on the man came over the Spymaster's face. It took her a moment to recognise it as sorrow. 'I dispatched Niriviel the morning we landed on Bramian,' he said, 'with orders to return within a day. He flew south into the Nelluroq, looking for sign of the Vortex. I fear he met with some… misfortune.'
Thasha felt stricken. The bird had almost hated her, but it made no difference. There was something beautiful about his loyalty to Sandor Ott. She hated to imagine him alone over the fabled whirlpool, battling the winds, dropping at last into the depths.
'Captain Rose,' she said, forcing herself back to the matter at hand.
'What is it?' he demanded.
'I don't think they can change the winds. In fact I don't think they can use the sceptre well at all, if the Father's dead. Only the most powerful mage-priests can use it safely. But the Father may have used it before he died, to make his sfvantskor stronger, or the ship itself.'
'How in precious Pitfire could you know such things, girl?' scoffed Alyash.
Thasha looked at him evenly. 'I read a lot.'
'What Thasha says stands to reason,' said Chadfallow. 'The priest cannot have meant to set the whole hill on fire, when he was standing atop it. He may even have perished in the blaze.'
Rose turned on his stool. 'First Mate, you spoke with Arunis?'
'Aye, Captain. He's prowling about the jiggermast even now.' Uskins drew a deep breath. 'He was… of little help, sir.'
'No help, you mean?'
'He speculated that the sfvantskors present at the wedding ceremony had all boarded the Jistrolloq, Captain. And he said that the priest wielding Sathek's Sceptre could not fail to sense the presence of the Nilstone.'