‘I understand . . . master,’ said the girl. The title was said with just a touch of emphasis, but without insolence.
‘Very well. Then let us move on to more important matters.’ He extended his hand.
Rowena reached out and touched his open palm. At first she could see only the details of his recent past, his agreement with the traitors who had slain the Ventrian Emperor, one of them a hawk-faced man. Kabuchek was kneeling before him and there was blood on the man’s sleeve. A name whispered into her mind – Shabag.
‘What’s that you say?’ hissed Kabuchek.
Rowena blinked, then realised she must have spoken the name. ‘I see a tall man with blood on his sleeve. You are kneeling before him . . .’
‘The future, girl! Not the past.’ From the decks above came a great flapping as if some giant flying beast was descending from the sky. Rowena was startled. ‘It is just the mainsail,’ said Kabuchek. ‘Concentrate, girl!’
Closing her eyes, Rowena allowed her mind to drift. She could see the ship now from above, floating on a clear sea beneath a sky of brilliant blue. Then another ship hove into sight, a trireme, its three banks of oars sending up a white spray as it sheared through the waves towards them. Rowena floated closer . . . closer. Armed men filled the trireme’s deck.
Silver-grey forms swam around the trireme – great fish, twenty feet long, with fins like spear points cutting through the water. Rowena watched as the two ships crashed together, saw men falling into the water and the sleek grey fish rising up towards them. Blood billowed into the sea, and she saw the jagged teeth in the mouths of the fish, saw them rend and tear and dismember the helpless sailors thrashing in the water.
The battle on the ship’s deck was short and brutal. She saw herself and.Pudri, and the tall form of Kabuchek clambering over the aft rail and leaping out into the waves.
The killer fish circled them – then moved in.
Rowena could watch no more and, jerking her mind to the present, she opened her eyes.
‘Well, what did you see?’ asked Kabuchek.
‘A black-sailed trireme, master.’
‘Earin Shad,’ whispered Pudri, his face pale, his eyes fearful.
‘Do we escape him?’ asked Kabuchek.
‘Yes,’ said Rowena, her voice dull, her thoughts full of despair, ‘we escape Earin Shad.’
‘Good. I am well satisfied,’ announced Kabuchek. He glanced at Pudri. ‘Take her to her cabin and give her some food. She is looking pale.’
Pudri led Rowena back along the narrow corridor to a small door. Pushing it open, he stepped inside. ‘The bed is very small, but you are not large. I think it will suffice, Pahtai.’ Rowena nodded dumbly and sat.
‘You saw more than you told the master,’ he said.
‘Yes. There were fish, huge fish, dark with terrible teeth.’
‘Sharks,’ said Pudri, sitting beside her.
‘This ship will be sunk,’ she told him. ‘And you and I, and Kabuchek, will leap into the sea, where the sharks will be waiting.’
Chapter One
Sieben sat in an outer room, sunlight slanting through the shuttered window at his back. He could hear low voices from the room beyond – a man’s deep, pleading tones, and the harsh responses from the Old Woman. Muffled by the thick walls of stone and the oak door, the words were lost – which was just as well, since Sieben had no wish to hear the conversation. The Old Woman had many clients; most seeking the murder of rivals – at least, according to the whispered gossip he had heard.
He closed his ears to the voices and concentrated instead on the shafts of light and the gleaming dust motes dancing within them. The room was bare of ornament save for the three seats of plain, unfinished wood. They were not even well made and Sieben guessed they had been bought in the southern quarter, where the poor spent what little money they had.
Idly he swept his hand through a shaft of light. The dust scattered and swirled.
The oak door opened and a middle-aged man emerged. Seeing Sieben, he swiftly turned his face away and hurried from the house. The poet rose and moved towards the open door. The room beyond was scarcely better furnished than the waiting area. There was a broad table with ill-fitting joints, two hard wood chairs and a single shutter window. No light shone through the slats and Sieben saw that old cloths had been wedged between them.