‘I understand, sir.’
Talaban ran his hand through his long dark hair and sat back upon the tube. ‘We do not know how many ships the newcomers will have, nor what weapons they carry. In order to loose the lightning I will be forced to drop our defences for a few heartbeats. Therefore the moment of our greatest strength is also the moment of our greatest weakness.’
‘As I said, sir, you can rely on me.’
Talaban nodded, then talked Methras through the controls twice more. When he was convinced that his sergeant understood fully the workings of the weapon he ordered him to draw it back and close the openings.
Then the two men left the room and locked the door.
Talaban returned to his cabin. He was perplexed at the new coldness in Methras and the crew. They had served with him for years, and he felt a certain rapport had been established. Apparently he had been wrong. They obeyed his orders swiftly and without question, but gone were the easy smiles. Conversations died away as he approached.
Opening the rear doors Talaban stepped out onto the small, private deck and breathed deeply. The wind was fresh and southerly and he could taste salt upon the air. Seagulls were circling overhead and Talaban could see storm clouds on the horizon.
‘You want food?’ asked Touchstone. Talaban spun. The tribesman had appeared from nowhere.
‘How do you move so silently?’ he asked. ‘My hearing is good, but every time you approach you surprise me.’ Touchstone grinned.
‘Big secret. Much work. Anyways you lost at thinking.’
‘The phrase is lost in thought. And, yes, I’d like some food.’
‘On table,’ said Touchstone. Talaban walked back into his cabin. A tray had been set on the table, bearing a jug of fruit juices, a small loaf, a plate of dried meats, and another of cheese. A crystal goblet was also standing close by. Talaban gave a wry grin and shook his head. The tribesman had entered the cabin carrying a tray laden with crockery and had set it down silently.
‘Compared to you a cat would sound like a tusker,’ said Talaban.
Touchstone grinned again and walked out onto the rear deck. Talaban ate. The bread was a little stale, but the dried smoked meats were tasty and filling. When he had finished Touchstone returned. ‘Storm comes,’ he said.
‘The wind is pushing it away from us.’
‘Wind will change,’ said the tribesman.
The Serpent could ride out any storm, but it would waste power. ‘I’ll find a bay,’ said Talaban. Touchstone leaned across the table, picking up a piece of meat and stuffing it into his mouth. It was a gesture of easy familiarity and Talaban welcomed it.
‘What is wrong with the crew?’ he asked.
‘Wrong? They sick?’
‘No, not sick. Have you not noticed? They have changed. They are like strangers to me now.’
‘They not change. You change.’
‘Me? I am the same.’
‘No,’ said Touchstone. ‘Hair at temples blue. Big change.’ Lifting the tray, the tribesman left the cabin.
Talaban was shocked, but he knew Touchstone was right. Talaban had performed many times for Rael as a scout, moving far into the tribal territories. Blue hair would have been inappropriate on such missions, putting him in danger. But his crew had seen it as a statement, an indication that he was not so different from them. They had looked at him and seen a man. Now they saw an Avatar, one of the ruling gods.
Of course a gulf had been created, and Talaban felt foolish that he had not anticipated such a reaction. His men came from a slave race, and they dreamed of a day when they would be free. And for Methras it would have been a double blow for he was of Avatar blood. The cabin door swung back on its hinges and slammed against the frame. Talaban moved to the rear deck. The wind had changed and, as Touchstone had predicted, the storm was moving in.
Climbing to the upper deck he activated the ship’s power and headed the Serpent for the coast.
Yasha lay back on the bed, the whore’s head resting on his shoulder, her thigh across his legs. The hut was warm, and lit by a single flickering lantern. It was pleasant here, and he felt at peace.
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