“But everyone knew where to run, that first day,” said Pazel, dropping into an armchair.
Ensyl nodded. “Every clan has its disaster protocol. They change often, but they are always remembered. If the signal came we were all to fly to different rendezvous points deep in the ship. Elders were to meet us there, and take us to a place of safety.”
“Safe from Rose?” said Thasha, incredulous.
“We doubted that ourselves,” said Ensyl. “But this plan came from Lord Talag, and it was followed without question. I heard the ten who took shelter here discussing it-though they fell silent at my approach. All the rendezvous points were on the orlop deck, between the steerage compartment and the augrongs’ den. If they had not been trapped on the upper decks, that is where they would have gone.”
“Orlop, portside, amidships,” said Neeps. “That’s a lonely spot, all right. Especially now that the animals are-” He stopped, looking from one face to another. “The animals. The live animal compartment. It’s right smack there, isn’t it, forward of the augrongs?”
“Yes,” said Thasha, with a glance at Marila. “And that’s where the… strangest things have happened, to some of us.”
Marila’s round face looked troubled, and Pazel knew why: several months ago, Thasha and Marila had one day found themselves on a very different Chathrand. A Chathrand sailing a frigid winter sea, a Chathrand crewed by pirates. They had barely escaped with their lives.
Of course men passed through those chambers every day, and met with nothing strange. Pazel himself had spent more hours than he cared to recall filling buckets with manure and spoiled hay. Still, it was an odd coincidence. If the ixchel had gone where Thasha and Marila went, they couldn’t be much better off. But perhaps the magic didn’t work that way. Perhaps one never went to the same place twice.
Suddenly Thasha gasped. She placed a hand on her chest, then started to her feet.
“Someone’s just stepped through the wall! It’s not Hercol, nor Fiffengurt or Bolutu or Greysan. I didn’t let them pass through; they just came. Get your weapons! Quick!”
She and the two boys raced for their swords. Marila grabbed Felthrup and backed away. Jorl and Suzyt crouched low, silenced by a warning finger from their mistress, every muscle tensed to spring. Pazel gripped the sword that had been Eberzam Isiq’s, wishing he could use it half as well as Thasha used her own. Hercol was right. He always said the worst thing we could do was to depend on the magic wall.
Thasha flattened herself against the wall near the door, sword raised to strike whoever entered. Then they heard the footsteps: a single, heavy figure, walking with long strides to the door. When they reached the threshold, someone knocked.
Thasha looked at Pazeclass="underline" a tender look, gone in half a heartbeat. Then she set her teeth and snarled: “If that’s you, Arunis, come. Ildraquin is waiting for you. It’s here in my hand.”
She was lying; she had only her own fine sword, not Hercol’s Curse-Cleaver. Then a voice spoke from beyond the passageway: “Your pardon, Lady Thasha. It is only me.”
They stared at one another. The voice belonged to Prince Olik. The door opened a few inches, and the man’s bright silver eyes and beak-like nose appeared in the gap.
“A splendid morning to you all,” he said.
Thasha opened the door wide. She lowered the sword but did not sheathe it. “Your Highness,” she said. “How did you get in here? No one has ever been able to pass through the wall without my permission.”
“Then you must have given it, my lady,” said Olik.
“I did no such thing,” said Thasha.
All at once she leaped back into fighting stance and pointed her sword at Olik’s breast. “Stay where you are!” she shouted. “We haven’t seen Prince Olik in four days-and suddenly here you appear out of nowhere, alone? How do I know you’re not Arunis in disguise? Prove that you’re you!”
Olik smiled. “That is just what the Karyskans said. Mistaken identity appears to be my fate. Alas, I’m not sure how to prove myself-but as it happens, I’ve not come alone.”
“Thasha Isiq!”
Captain Rose’s bellow carried down the passage. Olik stepped aside, and they could all see him, toes to the painted line, fists pounding empty air. Behind him, pressing as close as they dared, were four well-armed dlomic warriors.
“Let me pass!” bellowed Rose. “This is a royal visit, I’m escorting His Majesty on a tour of my ship!”
“Your guards I won’t allow,” said Thasha to the prince.
“I am delighted to hear it,” said Olik. “They were inflicted on me by Counselor Vadu.”
“And you yourself, Sire? Not armed?” she asked.
“Certainly I am,” he said. “Knife in my boot. I’ve carried one that way since I was a boy. Would you feel better if I surrendered it?”
“Yes,” said Thasha, “and I’m glad you told me the truth. I spotted that knife straightaway.”
Olik passed her the knife. It was broad and well used, the leopard-and-sun design on the sheath nearly worn away. Without turning to the hallway again, Thasha said, “Come in, Captain Rose.”
Rose’s fast, limping gait echoed down the passage, and then he barreled into the chamber and spread his hands. “The master stateroom,” he said, rather more loudly than necessary. “Fifty-four heads of state have traveled in these chambers during the ship’s public history alone-her early years being classified, you understand. Note the aromatic woods, the Virabalm crystal in the chandelier. To your left there’s a panel that once disguised a dumbwaiter. And the walls are triply insulated, for the warmth and privacy of our guests.”
He slammed the door and fell silent, leaning on the frame, breathing like some winded animal. Then, slowly, almost with fear, he turned his head so that one eye could look at them. Pazel’s hand tightened on his sword. Rose’s eye swiveled about the room, left to right, floor to ceiling.
“Sweet Rin in his heaven,” he whispered. “There’s not a ghost in this room.”
After a long silence, the prince asked amiably, “Is that unusual?”
“They can’t get in,” said Rose. “Outside the wall they’re thick as flies in a stable, but here-” He turned to look at them directly, standing straight. “Here a man can breathe.”
An expression came over his features that Pazel knew he had never seen before. It was not satisfaction, or not that alone (he had seen the man satisfied, often for the worst of reasons). The look was closer to contentment. On Rose’s face it was stranger than a third eye.
Ignoring the prince, he walked forward until he stood directly in front of the youths. “It’s as I thought all along,” he said. “Ghosts avoid you, and that makes you blary useful. Waste not-that’s my father’s iron law. I told him I shouldn’t have you killed.”
Pazel sighed. That was the Rose he knew.
“You’re not on a tour of the ship,” said Thasha. “Why have you come here, Captain?”
Rose waved a hand at the prince. “His Majesty-”
“Desired an audience,” Olik interrupted. “With all of you, who fought so hard to protect the little people. Captain Rose would not agree to it unless I gave my word that he too could be present. I did so, reluctantly. But now that he is here I think it is for the best.”
Thasha opened the door once again, and a moment later Hercol, Bolutu and Fiffengurt entered the room. Hercol stiffened at the sight of Rose.
“Excellent,” said Olik. “Now everyone I wished to speak to is here.”
“I do not understand your interest in these mutineers,” said Rose. “You’ve still not met our spymaster, or Lady Oggosk, my soothsayer hag.”
“I saw quite enough of Mr. Ott four days ago,” said the prince with finality. “As for these people, I wished to see them because their behavior in that terrible circumstance was the opposite of his-and yours. But I have another reason, and this one includes you, Rose: for you also bear the mark of Erithusme.”
Thasha whirled. “Do you mean our scars? What do you know about them, Sire? What do they have to do with Erithusme?”