“Stand to!” Perennius roared in a barrack’s-square voice which even the open horizon did not wholly swallow.
It was incredible that this ragged-toothed monster could have thrashed within a ship’s length of them and attract so little attention. The lookout was paralyzed at his post now that proximity gave the absolute lie to his optimism. The deck crew had its tasks or its leisure, neither category worth interruption for a pod of dolphins. Sabellia was willing enough to act in a crisis, but the sea and its creatures were all so new to her that she did not even realize there was a crisis at the moment.
As for Calvus, Calvus was – as always – calmly interested. While Perennius shouted and ran for one of the boat-pikes racked against the mast, the tall man watched the dark, serpentine creature until it sounded and disappeared beneath the liburnian’s keel.
The Marines had exploded out of formation at Perennius’ cry. They gripped their spears for use as they stumbled forward to join the agent. The crew, seamen and officers alike, jumped up alertly as well. Like the Marines – and Perennius himself – they were looking toward the bow. The waves continued to foam around the stem and the barely-submerged stump of the ram. The sea held no tracks, and there was no sign of the creature remaining.
“It won’t be back, I think,” Calvus said before Perennius could ask his question or the mob of men on deck could ask theirs of him. “Calm them. It won’t do any good to have them wondering.”
“Easy for you to say,” Perennius snarled. He knew full well that anything he could say to calm the men around him would make him look a fool. Well, any attempt to convince them that he had really seen a monster with
daggers for teeth would have the same effect – if he were lucky. If his luck was out, he’d have a mutiny no threats could quell.
“I guess it was a log,” the agent said aloud, giving the onlookers a weak smile. Sestius had stepped quickly to Sabellia’s side. She took his arm. The woman walked the ship with a hand on her knife, but she was never far from the centurion or Perennius either. Any dangers the agent posed went beyond a bout of unwanted slap and tickle. “Or maybe it was – ” Perennius wet his lips – “some dolphins, yes.” He glanced up at the lookout involuntarily. The sailor stared back at him in frozen agreement.
By the unconquered Sun, thought the agent, maybe it was all a dream, a mirage. They were alone on the sea with no more than the waves and a single high-flying seabird as company.
“All right, fall in again,” Gaius ordered harshly. He liked the authority he got from drilling the Marines; but after he spoke, he looked back carefully to Perennius. As the sailors returned to their own duties, one of the mates said, “His Highness is seeing mermaids. Maybe one of you lads ought to offer to haul his ashes for him before he hurts himself on a knothole.” There was general laughter.
Perennius appeared not to be listening. He walked back to the bow. The fourteen-foot long pike was still in his right hand. He carried it just ahead of the balance so that its butt brushed the deck and its point winked in the air ahead of him at the height of a man’s throat. The only sign the agent made to show he was not simply bemused at making a foolish mistake was his peremptory gesture to Calvus to join him by the bowsprit. It was unnecessary. The tall man had already turned in unison with the agent. Sabellia followed also, unasked but expected as Sestius went back to his training duties.
“Now, what in blazes was that?” the agent asked. His voice held the fury of Father Sun, reswallowing the life that was his creation in tendrils of inexorable flame. “And don’t give me any crap about dolphins!” Even to himself, Perennius would not admit how fearful he was that what he had “seen” was only a construct of his diseased mind.