There had been a man in her tent. He had thought about that when he should have been catching some sleep in the fag end of the night. He had concluded that there were so many possible explanations for what he might possibly have seen that he must just forget the whole incident. It was none of his business anyway. Inos was his queen, and he was merely her loyal subject, nothing more. Even if she chose to create a public scandal, it would be none of his business. He could not imagine Inos creating a public scandal-not, at least, that sort of public scandalbut she was certainly entitled to do so if she chose.
The big man with the sword might even have been the mage Bright Water had mentioned, assuming that the witch had spoken any truth at all. Inos could no more keep a mage out of her tent than Lady Oothiana could refuse to serve the disgusting warlock.
Forget about the man in the tent.
Rap had escaped from goblins, from imps, and now from a warlock. That was the most surprising escape of all. And why should sailors be any different? Once on the mainland, he would escape again and start walking.
There was no such thing as slavery in the Impire. The legionaries were seeking a ship’s captain willing to transport two convicts back to the mainland. It was an interesting fable, but in practice the sailors inspected the alleged convicts as carefully as old Hononin scrutinized a horse-poking, pinching, peering in their mouths and eyes, lifting their slaves’ loincloths to check for disease or mutilation. The ship’s destination was irrelevant and never mentioned. These convicts would sail to the ends of their lives, or until they reached a land where marketing of people was less overregulated.
The bidding was a farce. How much to ship them, then? the bored tesserary would ask. The sailor would name a price. The soldier would automatically tell him it was too low, he must charge more.
He would write down the final offer, and then move on to the next berth to offer his wares again. In time the parade would return to the highest bidder. It was going to take all day, likely.
But suddenly Rap’s chin was grabbed in a horny hand and twisted up until he was staring into pallid blue eyes above a silver floor-brush mustache.
“You heal quickly, halfman.” Gathmor was wearing more than he had done the previous day, but he was still bare-chested, crude and dangerous as a white bear.
“I had help, thir.” Of necessity, Rap spoke through clenched teeth.
“Still want to be a rower?”
“Meth, thir.”
“How many fingers am I holding out on my other hand?” The jotunn’s voice was low, his other hand was behind his back, but when Rap hesitated, his thumb found the pressure point below Rap’s ear and squeezed mercilessly.
“Three, thir,” Rap said as tears of pain sprang unbidden into his eyes.
“Now?”
“Two, thir.” He was released.
“What was all that about?” the tesserary asked, not caring much.
“That goblin really mess up half a century coupla days ago?” Rap could not see the speakers’ faces, but he heard the change in tone. “Where did you hear that lie, sailor?”
“Saloon gossip. Did he?”
“There was a riot.”
“I heard otherwise. How much for them both?”
“You bid on a contract to—”
“Come with me.” The jotunn led the tesserary aside for serious talk. Gathmor’s eyes would have told him that Rap’s injuries had been cured by sorcery, but how had he learned that Rap had farsight? A sailor with occult farsight would be invaluable. And he seemingly knew that this goblin could outrow anyone-if he chose to, of course. Gathmor was remarkably well informed.
Rap edged his feet around and twisted his head sideways to see how the bribery was coming along. Another man was blocking his view. He was dashingly dressed in the loose clothes that the rich affected in such warm climes, but they were superbly cut and were being worn with supreme elan. A broad-brimmed hat shadowed his handsome bronzed face, a rapier dangled rakishly at his hip. He flashed Rap a smile of snow-white teeth.
In the first surge of his fury, Rap tried to straighten. He paid for his error with more skin from wrists and ankles. Had he not been chained, he would have attacked, for this was the monster who had used foul occult mastery to deceive Inos. Hatred made Rap tremble. He could imagine nothing in the world more pleasurable than grinding that pretty face into the street.
His second emotion was a stab of fear. Where there was Andor, there could be Darad.
“Hello again, Rap.”
“What’d you want?”
Andor’s smile became tinged with sadness, or possibly pity. “Thinal thinks you’re lying, Rap.”
“What?”
“Thinal’s very good at detecting lies, you know. Best of the lot of us. He thought you were lying when you said you didn’t know your word of power. Not nice to lie to your friends, Rap!” So Andor was still after Rap’s word, and if Rap was now capable of telling it, then Darad could be called to encourage the telling and arrange the unfortunate consequences.
Andor watched Rap’s reaction, and his smile grew even wider. “Rowing is fine exercise! Better even than running, I’m told.”
“But you won’t be trying it.”
“Er, no.” Andor sighed regretfully. “I’m often told that my hands are one of my best features. But I’ll be in Cabin One. Do drop in for a chat sometime. Ah . . . Looks like your fare has been paid. Well, see you on board, old buddy. Bon voyage!”
4
Andor led the way along the quay. Rap followed, with Little Chicken hobbling behind him, and the sailor bringing up the rear; having just paid out much good gold for two healthy thralls, Gathmor was taking no chances on losing them before they even reached Stormdancer.
A thrall with farsight, an occult slave . . . to sailors, Rap was beyond price. Shuffling along in his awkward trussed posture, he lamented the irony of his new situation. Minutes ago he had been congratulating himself on escaping from Faerie. Faerie was a good place to escape out of, but what had he escaped into?
What chance would he ever have of escaping from sailors who knew of his occult talent? A pilot who could see in fog, in the dark? The crew would guard him like a chest of rubies, the most precious thing aboard.
So the sailors wanted his talent, but Andor was still after his word of power. Perhaps Rap had been unfair in his attitude to Thinal, for whatever his suspicions, the little alley rat had at least refrained from calling Darad. Andor was not so picky. The gentleman had fewer scruples than the thief.
And Little Chicken wanted his hide. Having been hailed as a king by a coven of sorcerers, the goblin saw himself as nobody’s trash now. Now he was the worst danger of all. Given a fraction of a chance, he was going to toss Rap over his shoulder and lay course for the taiga, for Raven Totem and his destiny.
Bystanders on the Milflor dock saw a gentleman and a sailor escorting two convicts, and they paid slim heed. What Rap saw was three jailers escorting him. He wondered which one was going to get him.
He wondered if they might all kill one another off and leave him free to go.
Of it they might end up with one-third apiece.
Then he was following Andor down the plank to Stormdancer’s deck and a future as a galley slave.
Dead yesterday:
Ah, fill the Cup:—what boots it to repeat
How time is slipping underneath our Feet:
Unborn Tomorrow, and dead Yesterday,
Why fret about them if Today be sweet!
— Fitzgerald, Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam (§37, 1859)
TEN
Water willy-nilly
1
The helmsman’s deck aft was very tiny and presently crowded. Still clattering chains, Rap was handed over to Kani, a wiry young fellow with the hopelessly battered face of a jotunn who couldn’t fight well. That was not his only surprising quality. His sea-blue eyes twinkling happily through a straggling mop of silver-blond hair, his lopsided, gap-toothed grin was half hidden by a matching mustache, and yet he chattered like a purebred imp.
He began by shaking Rap’s hand crushingly—a noisy and awkward procedure because of the chains—and thereafter he just kept talking. Wind’s from the west, unusual, he said as he set to work removing Rap’s fetters, be underway in an hour. What’s that round your eyes? he asked. Makes you look like a raccoon. Ever done any rowing? Is that other one really a goblin? Heard of them, never seen one. Are you left-handed or right-handed? Can’t row bare-assed like that, get you some decent gear. Grab some chow from that basket if you’re hungry and come along and meet the lads. And as soon as Rap was unshackled, Kani led the way into the chaos of a hot, dim, and very crowded tunnel.