Darkening Skies (The Hadrumal Crisis) (26 page)

‘You will not depart until you have fulfilled our agreement.’ Anskal looked at the motionless corsairs.

Hosh reckoned the ship masters would have swum for it and risked the sharks regardless if they didn’t fear Anskal’s sorcery dragging them back out of the sea.

‘Bring all of your treasures to that pavilion.’ Anskal pointed to the dwelling closest to the path, once the
Reef Eagle
’s master’s pride. ‘Once I have taken what I seek, you may board your ships and go, leaving all taint of magic behind. Tell them,’ he ordered Hosh.

The ship masters stood motionless as he repeated the Mandarkin’s ultimatum, groping for the most courteous phrasing in the Aldabreshin tongue.

When Hosh stumbled to a halt, no one spoke.

‘Well?’ Anskal betrayed the first hint of impatience.

Those who had first followed him to the shore retreated as swiftly. Those who had been slower were still lingering amid the deserted huts. Some withdrew while others dithered. Then a handful broke into a run and the rest followed in an utter rout.

‘Very well,’ Anskal said briskly, ‘fetch me food and drink. It will be some while before they return.’

The Mandarkin’s satisfaction revolted Hosh. But what else could he do but obey?

So he fetched some of the pickled roots that the wizard liked and strips of the goat flesh that Imais and the other women had rubbed with some fiery blend of spices to keep off the flies as the meat dried in the hottest season’s sun.

Anskal settled himself on the pavilion’s terrace and dined.

Ostrin send that the filthy swine died of some stomach rot, Hosh prayed silently. The god of hospitality was also the god of healing and demanded cleanliness in each undertaking. But Anskal never washed his filthy hands and never seemed to suffer any ill effects.

Perhaps magic kept the swine safe from the bloody flux that Captain Corrain swore always followed such bestial behaviour. So poisoning him would be a waste of effort, even if Hosh had any idea how to go about it.

He longed to talk to Imais. She knew intoxicants as well as pot herbs. Could she tell him how to stupefy Anskal with the dream smoke powder? Not that Hosh had any idea what he might do after that. He could hardly row a galley away on his own.

‘No.’

Anskal waved away the bottle which Hosh offered as the wizard had finished eating. It was the finest white brandy, a Tormalin noble house’s stamp on the wax sealing it. The mage had already drunk his way through half the basket of the liquor.

‘Fetch me water.’

Hosh went through the kitchen to the well in the garden. He filled a multi-hued glass goblet for himself, a luxury whose cost would have given the wealthiest Caladhrian baron pause. Anskal didn’t give such things a second glance. Did he not know what such wares were worth or did he simply not care? Hosh was beginning to think that the only things which the mage valued were silver, gold and gems. And magic.

‘Eat, if you wish.’ Anskal waved a hand at his leavings.

‘No, thank you.’ Hosh stood in the shadow of the eaves watching the
Knot Serpent
’s murdered master’s corpse rocking back and forth in the shallows.

He couldn’t imagine the Aldabreshi would be burying the bodies of those killed by magic to become one with the soil. Not and corrupt all the omens for an island’s inhabitants for as long as memory of their fate endured. Though that hardly mattered here. Anskal had blighted this whole island with his sorcery.

‘Here they come.’

Anskal’s triumphant words startled Hosh out of his reverie. He hadn’t expected the Aldabreshi to return before dawn at the earliest. If they returned at all.

But now it was apparent that the Archipelagans were so desperate, they had already followed the ship masters across the island, prepared to make any deal to escape the wizard.

Scores of men and a lesser number of women were picking a wary path through the shadowy ironwoods. Trireme crews flanked their ship masters, the steersmen and the flute players whose notes governed the rhythm of their oars.

Scarred galley slaves cowered away from overseers who had armed themselves with fresh-cut reeds in place of their lost whips. Young and old, favoured slaves and whores of both sexes straggled after them.

Hosh looked in vain for Imais but couldn’t pick her out of the jostling throng in the rapidly failing light. He couldn’t see Nifai now nor Ducah.

Most were carrying something; a box or a bundle of silk or sackcloth. Hosh was surprised to see how much the Aldabreshi had managed to seize before they fled after that first magical onslaught.

‘Good.’ Anskal threw the peerless drinking goblet away to shatter on the stones. ‘Come!’

‘Shouldn’t we wait for the rest?’ Hosh set his own glass carefully down.

‘There are no more to come.’ Anskal was already at the top of the steps. ‘So many have already died. So foolish.’

Corsair swordsmen amongst the crowd hurried to the fore, as though they believed that their gleaming blades could be a match for the wizard’s lethal magic.

‘You will each stand before me,’ Anskal said crisply, ‘and place all that you carry on the ground. I will know if you are concealing anything that is rightfully mine beneath your clothes,’ he added with naked menace.

As Hosh relayed the wizard’s words, he could see plenty of those who understood Tormalin speech were already passing on this news to those further back.

Anskal still didn’t understand, did he? No Aldabreshin would risk taking away anything that might carry the taint of magic.

‘Once I am satisfied, you may go to your ships and depart.’ Anskal concluded.

As Hosh conveyed that assurance, he saw urgent conversations between ship masters, overseers and crews as they peered into the dusk, trying to see which galleys and triremes might be seaworthy and which were beyond salvage.

‘When you leave,’ Anskal smiled, ‘carry these words wherever you go. This island is now mine and my reach is long. Any ships wishing to pass within a hundred leagues must pay me my due. I will accept a tithe of each vessel’s cargo. Any ship master who will not pay will be wrecked on unforeseen reefs no matter what his course.’ He nodded towards the entrance to the anchorage. ‘You have seen how strong my hand is, when I choose to command the waters.’

As Hosh repeated those cruel words he could see the blank disbelief on the faces of the most fluent in the mainland tongue.

‘Tell them again,’ Anskal instructed.

Hosh obeyed. Nobody moved. The silence was absolute.

‘You may stay or you may go.’ Anskal’s voice hardened. ‘The choice is yours but make it quickly.’

Hosh couldn’t tell if the first corsair to stumble forward was volunteering or if he had been caught unawares and shoved. Those behind certainly raised their swords against any attempt to retreat.

The dark-skinned man with the paler eyes of mixed blood flung a small basket on the ground. A scatter of rings and bracelets spilled out with some tarnished silver coins. He threw his rings and a heavy gold necklace down before stripping off his tunic to show the wizard the old faded scars of a lifelong slave.

Anskal raised a languid hand. ‘Very well, you may take your coin and go.’

Not stooping to take a penny piece, the man ran for the water’s edge and waded in. The trireme he sought was close at hand and he hastily climbed the dangling rope ladder.

Another man stepped forward. Anskal nodded as he dropped a leather sack beside the basket and waved him on. Once again, the Aldabreshi left his loot lying by the terrace. He proved to be a shipmate of the first man and joined him in anxiously surveying the vessel from prow to stern.

A handful followed more readily but the next trio hesitated, all unwilling to be the first. Once they were seen to pass safely past the wizard though, the remainder grew less reluctant. Hosh saw some jostling to get more swiftly to the front.

They were abandoning a barony’s purchase in treasure as they went. Hosh noted that pearl-studded ornaments were prominent among the discarded plunder. Had the islanders lost their faith in such talismans against magic? He could hardly blame them.

What was going to happen when they had all rowed away? Did Anskal honestly think any vessel would sail willingly into this harbour to pay him what he demanded? What could he do with all these tenth-shares of cargoes? No Archipelagan would trade for goods that had passed through a wizard’s hand. Did he expect Hosh to barter for him?

‘No.’

Anskal’s firm voice startled Hosh out of his wandering thoughts.

He saw the remaining corsairs and their slaves were just as shocked. Though nothing equalled the abject terror of the slave rower stood at the base of the steps.

‘I have nothing!’ He began ripping off his ragged clothing. ‘I have nothing!’

‘But you have.’ Anskal offered his hand with a welcoming smile. ‘My friend.’

The sizeable heap of abandoned treasure stirred. Anskal held out an open hand and a tangle of silver chains writhed. An amulet carved from dark veined jade sprang up into the wizard’s palm.

He tossed it to the slave rower. The man’s fingers closed instinctively around the jewel. Emerald light glowed inside the man’s fist. He screamed and dropped the swirl of jade. It lay on the sandy soil, inert. The radiance clung stubbornly to the man’s fingers.

‘You have mage blood in your veins,’ Anskal told the horrified rower.

‘No.’ The man dropped to his knees to scoop up a handful of soil, frantically scouring his glowing hand. ‘No!’

Anskal didn’t seem overly perturbed by the man’s abhorrence. ‘You now have a choice to make.’

The slave looked up, sick with fear.

‘You may go,’ Anskal assured him. ‘I keep my word. But of course, everyone has now seen your true nature.’

He nodded towards the waiting boats. ‘You may take your chances out there, though I believe they are less than promising. Or you may stay and I will give you all the boons of your birthright.’

The rower peered fearfully over his shoulder and recoiled from the loathing on every face he could see.

Once again, Anskal was offering a choice that was no choice at all. Even if Hosh guessed that the corsairs would think better of killing the slave immediately he tried to rejoin his ship. Surely they wouldn’t risk offering the wizard such a blatant insult?

But the mageborn man faced a lingering and agonising death as soon as the corsairs reached some other beach. Imais had told Hosh of the bounties that warlords paid for any wizard’s hide. Word of anyone suspected of magebirth circulated around every trading island, travelling as far and wide as the courier doves that carried their descriptions from warlord to warlord.

The rower staggered to his feet. Hosh had never seen such ghastly desolation on any man’s face.

‘Wait over there!’ Anskal clapped his hands impatiently. ‘Who else wishes to leave?’

The next galley slave stepped forward, empty hands spread wide. As the wizard waved him towards the shore, the man so unexpectedly condemned collapsed into a sobbing heap.

Hosh couldn’t find any comfort to offer. All he could do was wait and watch as Anskal somehow found more mageborn among the island’s survivors.

He surreptitiously tallied them up as the night wore on. Eleven corsair swordsmen. A triple handful of slave rowers and a double handful of women.

Hosh was both devastated and delighted to see that Imais wasn’t among them. She didn’t meet his eye as she dropped the twisted cloth she was carrying to spill bronze plates and cups on the ground.

Nifai and Ducah both escaped as well, stripping themselves all but naked in their haste. Hosh lost sight of them as they raced for the shore. Regardless, he was glad to see the back of both of them.

The first lanterns lit on the wallowing ships glimmered in the darkness like fireflies. The most distant galley was already edging towards the southern headland.

By the time the last of the Aldabreshi had braved Anskal’s scrutiny, the first trireme had already departed. The Archipelagans were more willing to risk the hazards of night rowing under the solitary Lesser Moon than to stay here any longer.

Hosh studied the mageborn sitting on the damp ground below the terrace. The Aldabreshi among them were still appalled, either silently distraught or wailing in incoherent terror.

Anskal looked down at them, exasperated. ‘When they have come to their senses, tell them to find food and shelter as they please.’

He vanished in a shimmer of azure light before Hosh had time to answer.

Hosh was watching the remaining mageborn; in particular the group of nine men sitting quietly thoughtful with their backs together, conversing in low tones as they kept a watchful eye on the distressed Aldabreshi. They were speaking in Tormalin.

Mainlanders, enslaved as he had been. They weren’t Caladhrians; that was too much to hope for. But Hosh guessed that a handful were from Ensaimin, judging by their accents.

However their magebirth had gone undiscovered for so long, they would know something of wizardry. More than that, they would know it wasn’t some all-encompassing evil, as the Archipelagans believed.