Or so he thought at the time.
Three days passed. They flew by the night, hiding during the day on small, uncharted isles. It would take a week, Hugh said, to reach Aristagon.
Bane came every night to sit with Hugh, watch him handle the ship, and ask questions. The Hand answered or not, depending on his mood. Preoccupied with his plans and his flying, Hugh paid no more attention to Bane than he was forced to. Attachments were deadly in this world, bringing nothing but pain and sorrow. The boy was cold hard cash. That was all.
The Hand was, however, puzzled at Alfred. The chamberlain watched the prince nervously, anxiously. It might have been an overreaction to the tree’s fall, but Alfred wasn’t being protective. Hugh was strongly reminded of the time an elven fire canister had been hurled over a battlement of a castle he’d been caught in during a raid. Rolling about on the stone, the black metal container appeared harmless. But everyone knew that at any moment it could burst into flame. Men regarded that canister in exactly the same way Alfred was regarding Bane.
Noting Alfred’s tension, Hugh wondered-not for the first time-what the chamberlain knew that he didn’t. The assassin increased his own watchfulness over the boy when they were on the ground, thinking the child might try to run away. Bane meekly obeyed Hugh’s command that he not leave the campsite unless escorted by Alfred, and then only to forage in the woods for the berries that he seemed to take such delight in finding.
Hugh never went on these expeditions, considering them foolish. Left to himself to find food, he would have made do with whatever came to hand, so long as it kept life in his body. The chamberlain insisted that His Highness have what he wanted, however, and each day the clumsy Alfred sallied forth into the forest to do battle with overhanging limbs, tangled vines, and treacherous weeds. Hugh stayed behind, resting in a half-wakeful, half-dozing state that allowed him to hear every snap and crash.
The fourth night, Bane came up to the steerage way and stood staring out the crystal windows at the magnificent sight of cloud and vast empty sky below. “Alfred says dinner will be ready soon.”
Hugh, puffing on his pipe, grunted noncommittally.
“What’s that big shadow I can see out there?” Bane pointed.
“Aristagon.”
“Is it? Will we be there soon?”
“No. It’s farther away than it looks. Another day or two.”
“But where will we stay between here and there? I don’t see any more islands.”
“There’re some, most likely hidden by the mists. Small isles, used by small ships like us for overnight stays.”
Standing on tiptoe, Bane peered down beneath the dragon. “I can see great dark clouds way, way below us. Whirling round and round. That’s the Maelstrom, isn’t it?”
Hugh saw no need to reply to the obvious. Bane stared more intently.
“Those two things down there. They look like dragons, but they’re bigger than any dragon I ever saw.”
Rising from his chair, careful not to disturb the cables, Hugh glanced out. “Elven corsairs or waterships.”
“Elves!” The word was tense, eager. The boy’s hand went to stroke the feather he wore around his neck. When he spoke next, it was with studied calm. “Shouldn’t we run away from them, then?”
“They’re far from us, probably don’t even see us. If they did, they’d think we were one of them. Besides, it looks like they’ve got business of their own to tend to.”
The prince looked out again, saw two ships and nothing more. Hugh, however, could tell what was transpiring.
“Rebels, trying to escape an imperial warship.”
Bane barely gave them a glance. “I think I heard Alfred calling. It must be time for supper.”
Hugh continued to watch the confrontation with interest. The warship had caught up with the rebels. Grappling hooks snaked out from the imperial dragonship and landed on the rebel’s deck. It was to an attack similar to this, made by humans, that Hugh owed his escape from the slavery of the elven waterships.
Several of the rebel elves, in an attempt to boost their level of magic and escape capture, were performing the dangerous maneuver known as “walking the dragon wing.” Hugh could see them running swiftly, sure-footedly, out on the wing’s mast. In their hands, they carried charms given them by the ship’s wizard, that they would touch to the mast.