Unwinding the rope from around his arm, Hugh threw it onto the deck. They hadn’t reached the Maelstrom yet, and already the wind was whipping the ship around. He couldn’t stand up and was forced to crawl across the planking, clinging to the cables and using them to pull himself into the corridor. Once there, he dragged himself up the ladder and peered out. Alfred and Bane were lying flat on the top deck, the chamberlain with his arm wrapped tightly around the boy.
“Down here!” Hugh yelled above the buffeting of the wind. “The wing’s split. We’re sinking into the storm!”
Alfred slithered on his stomach across the deck, hauling Bane with him. Hugh took a certain grim pleasure in noting that the child appeared to be stricken dumb with terror. Reaching the hatch, the chamberlain shoved the prince ahead of him. Hugh grasped hold of the boy none too gently, pulled him inside, and dropped him onto the deck.
Bane let out a howl of pain that was cut short when the ship flipped over, slamming him into the bulwarks and knocking the breath from his body. The motion sent Alfred plunging through the hatch headfirst, causing Hugh to lose his footing. He crashed down the ladder onto the deck below.
The Hand staggered to his feet and made his way back up the ladder-or perhaps it was down the ladder. The ship was rolling over and over, and he had lost all sense of direction. He grabbed hold of the hatch cover. A rain squall hit the ship; water lashed down with the force of elven spears. A jagged bolt of lightning split the air near enough that the smell made him wrinkle his nose; the concussion of the air rushing back together nearly deafened him. He fumbled at the hatch cover-it was slippery and wet-and finally managed to yank it shut. Wearily he slid back down the ladder and collapsed onto the deck.
“You . . . you’re alive!” Bane stared at him in blank astonishment. Then his expression changed to one of joy. Running over to Hugh, the child threw his arms around him and hugged him close. “Oh, I’m so glad! I was so frightened! You saved my life!”
Detaching the clinging hands, Hugh held the prince at arm’s length. There was no doubting the sincerity either in the tear-choked voice or on the innocent face. There was no guile or deceit in the blue eyes. The Hand could have almost imagined that he had dreamed everything.
Almost, but not quite.
This Bane, so aptly named, had tried to poison him. Hugh put his hand around the boy’s white throat. It would be a simple matter. One twist. Snap the neck. Contract fulfilled.
The ship pitched and tossed in the storm. The hull creaked and groaned and seemed likely to fly apart at any moment. Lightning flashed around them; thunder boomed in their ears.
All your life you served us.
Hugh tightened his grasp. Bane gazed up at him; the child was trusting, shyly smiling. The assassin might have been soothing the prince with a loving caress.
Angrily the Hand hurled the boy away from him, sent him stumbling into Alfred, who caught him reflexively.
Stumbling past the two, heading for the steerage way, Hugh dropped to his hands and knees and heaved up his guts.
CHAPTER 28
DREVLIN, LOW REALM
BANE WAS THE FIRST TO REGAIN CONSCIOUSNESS. OPENING HIS EYES, HE STARED
around at his surroundings, at the dragonship and its other two occupants. He could hear a low rumble of thunder, and for a moment his terror returned; then he realized the storm was some distance away. Looking outside, he could see it was calm, with only a spatter of rain hitting the ship. The horrid motion had ended. Everything was still, nothing moved.
Hugh lay on the deck amidst the cables, his eyes closed, blood on his head and arm, his hand hanging on to one of the ropes as though his last effort had been to make some attempt to save them. Alfred lay sprawled on his back. The chamberlain did not appear to be injured. Bane remembered little about the terrifying descent through the storm, but he had the impression from somewhere that Alfred had fainted.