Krozair of Kregen (7 page)

Rukker had cleared his area and was about to lead a hunting party to roust out those still below. I bellowed in his ear, for the released slaves were creating one hell of a racket.

“Rukker! Try not to slay too many. We need oarsmen, too!”

He glared at me, aroused, the blood-lust strong on him. He took a great draft of air.

“Aye — aye, Dak the Cunning. You are right — and do not forget we have a score to settle, you and I.”

“Let us secure the swifter and chain down these damned Grodnims and then we may talk.”

Only after he had gone roaring back into the fray did I realize he had been hired by and had been fighting for the Grodnims. But if he came from the northeast corner of the inner sea, as he said, the chances were he did not worship Green Grodno in quite the same way as the Grodnims of the Eye of the World. Anyway, I was in no state to accommodate him no matter what his inclinations.

The light had dimmed after the false dawn. But as the sounds of combat flared over the swifter so the light strengthened. Soon Zim rose in a crimson glory, at which all the Zairians yelled mightily. “Zim! Zair! Zair!”

And, inevitably, when green Genodras rose, and we waited for the shouts of Grodno to echo around the ship, and none sounded, we roared our good humor.

Rukker stormed among the released slaves, cuffing them out of his way, giving them orders, bellowing. . .

Duhrra was not sure what to do, so it fell to Fazhan to see about chaining down the new prisoners, those who had been spared.

I prevented a mob from tearing apart a couple of Grodnim sailors in their rage, and bellowed at them, “Would you wish these two rasts to go up to Genodras, to sit on the right hand of Grodno? Of course not! Chain them down to the benches, make them pull at the Zair-forsaken oars!”

“Aye, aye!” screeched the ex-slaves. ‘To the thalamites with them!”

So we managed to save a few men to pull for us.

There would be the problem of what to do with the Grodnims who had been enslaved with us. The oar-slaves were mostly Zairian prisoners; there was an element among them of Grodnim criminals. There could be no half-measures, of course.

I climbed up the mast and took a look around.

Green Magodont
lay in the mouth of a river, with low vegetation-choked banks to either side. The mountains inland of the island looked blue and floating in the early morning mist. Downstream lay two more swifters. People were running about them. The noise and confusion in
Green Magodont
needed, it seemed to me, little explanation.

We weren’t out of the woods yet.

I looked down.

Two large and powerful looking men, both apims, were arguing. They both carried swords, they both had snatched up scraps of clothing to cover their nakedness. They had been slaves, miserably chained to the bench; now they were arguing over who was in command.

“I am a roz and therefore outrank you, fambly!”

“I am a swifter captain, you onker, and know whereof I speak!”

I watched Rukker. He walked toward them. He bellowed.

Other men crowded around on the upper deck. They could be called slaves no longer — or, perhaps, for a space no longer if we did not do something about the other two swifters. Rukker yelled.

“I am in command here! Get about your business!”

The two men turned on him, hot in their anger and pride, a pride so newly returned to them. Their swords flickered out.

One of them dropped with a sword through his guts, the other could not screech. His throat had been ripped out by the Kataki’s tail-blade. I sighed.

“I, Rukker, command! If any more of you rasts wish to die, then step up.”

Duhrra, at the back, started to rumble and shove forward. I went down the mast with some speed and jumped to the deck.

“What! Dak! And so you wish to challenge me.” Rukker waved his tail above his head. The blade glittered.

“If you are in command, Rukker, which I doubt. What do you think we should do about the two swifters that will surely pull up here to retake this vessel? Come on, man. Speak up.”

“I do not wish—” he began. But the other slaves — ex-slaves — were running to the rail and pointing at the swifters downstream and caterwauling.

I said, “You may not wish to know about them, Rukker. But that won’t make them go away.”

“One day, Dak the Cunning, I’ll do you a mortal injury.”

“You may try. Until then you had best listen to what I say.”

“I am in command!”

“You command nothing, Rukker the Kataki. This is no swifter fit to fight. You could not tackle those two. Think, man—” I did not take my gaze from him, and I watched that treacherous tail as a ruffianly sailorman watches a Sylvie as she dances the Sensil Dance.

But he was, I felt sure, a high noble of one kind or another, and he could think quickly when he had to. “And what do you, oh wise and cunning Dak the Proud, think we should do?”

It would have been easy and cheap to have said, “But you are in command, Rukker.”

The men had broken out the wine now and would soon be helpless. At least, some would, for the supplies wouldn’t stretch to better than seven hundred thirsty ex-oar-slaves. I looked downstream again. The oars were moving in the swifters. They would back up to us, and their men would be armed and armored and ready. But drunken men can fight if they have a bucket of cold water soused over them and know that if they do not fight they will be killed if they are lucky, and go to the galley-slave benches if they are not lucky. But it must be done quickly.

In that uproar it was difficult to make myself heard. I turned to Duhrra. “Go and bash on the drum, Duhrra.”

“Aye, master.”

When the booming banging went on and on the men gradually quieted down and turned to look at Duhrra as he bashed away where usually the drum-Deldar beat the rhythm. I held up my hand. Duhrra stopped banging the drum and the silence fell.

I bellowed. I am able to let rip a goodly shout, as you know.

“Men! We must fight those swifters! There is no other way out for us. We can win easily if we stick together and fight for Zair!” This was mostly lies, of course. We could have run into the island and hidden. That would have been better than slaving at the oars. And as to winning, it would not be easy. But, Zair forgive me, I needed these men and their flesh and blood to further my own plans. I own that this makes me a criminal — a criminal of a kind, perhaps — but there was nothing else I could do, impelled as I was.

Vax shouted, before them all, “Aye! Let us take the two swifters to the glory of Zair!”

So they all bellowed and stamped and then it was a matter of finding weapons and clothes and armor and of seeing that not too many men fell down dead drunk.

We would have to wait for the attack until the last moment.

I said to Fazhan, “You are a ship-Hikdar. Can you organize from these men a crew to run the swifter?”

“Aye, Dak.”

“Then jump to it. If we have to man the banks with our own men, they will have to do it. By Zair! They should be proud to row for Zair! We’ll cripple those rasts out there!”

I turned to Rukker, who during all this had stood glowering, with his tail waving dangerously. I felt he would not strike just yet. He was too shrewd for that. “You want to be in command, Rukker. But you know nothing of swifters. Let Fazhan run the ship. Once we have those other two, we will have three alternatives.”

He started to say something, thought better of it, and swung away. I bellowed after him, “Go and command the prijikers, Rukker. That is a post of honor.”

The two swifters made no attempt to turn in the narrow mouth of the river. They could have done it. No doubt their captains wished to get up to us as fast as they could. I fancied they erred in this. I hoped I judged correctly.

The water rippled blue and silver, with jade and ruby sparks striking from it as the suns rose. The birds were busy about the trees. The day would be fine. I sniffed and thought about breakfast.

No time for that now. Men were arming themselves from corpses and from the armory. I went down and had to push my way through a throng crowding along the quarterdeck and so into the cabins. Men gave way for me, for they knew I was Dak, and Dak had freed them. They had been told this by Duhrra, although some still thought Rukker had organized the break. It did not concern me.

We could find no red cloth anywhere, and no one seemed over keen to wear green. Not even the Grodnim criminals, who kept very quiet, with good reason.

With seven hundred men or so to arm there was no chance of my equipping myself with a longsword to match the Genodder, and any man with two weapons had, perforce, to give up one to a comrade who had none. I bellowed for bowmen and soon all the men who said they were archers clustered on the deck where all the bows we could find were issued. As for arrows, these were brought up in their wicker baskets and likewise issued. There were insufficient bows to go to all those who clamored for them.

I saw Nath. He had a piece of cloth. He saw me and waved and then stood on the bulwarks and dived cleanly into the water.

One or two men yelled and they would have started an outcry.

“Silence, you famblys! Nath the Slinger goes to collect pebbles.”

A few other men turned out to be slingers and they went off to collect ammunition. Rukker turned up again; he was growing tiresome, but I wanted to humor him, for not only did he intrigue me, I needed his bull-strength in the bows as a prijiker when the attack came in. And that would not be long now. He wore a mail shirt and a helmet. He carried a longsword. He looked exceedingly fierce.

“I do not know why I suffer your impertinence, Dak. But after we have taken those ships—”

I turned to Vax.

“Why have you not put on a mail shirt, Vax?”

“Because they are all taken already.”

That was the obvious answer to an unnecessary question.

But Rukker took the point. His face went more mean than ever, and he began to bluster. I pointed forward. “They are almost here.”

He swore — something about Targ and tails — and stormed off to the bows. He had selected a strong prijiker party, those stern fighters who were the cream of a crew.

Again I went a little way up the mast. Grodnim swifters still had only the one mast, apart from the smaller one for the boat sail forward. I studied the oncoming swifters. Their tall upflung sterns towered. Men clustered their quarterdecks and poops, armed and armored men, anxious to revenge their fellows in
Green Magodont.

I called down to Fazhan standing on the quarterdeck.

“Get under way and aim for the rast to larboard.”

He was a merry soul, this Fazhan ti Rozilloi, when not being flogged at the oars.

“I have ample volunteers to act as whip-Deldars, Dak. But not many oar-slaves.”

“We do not need a great speed. Just enough to get our beakhead onto his quarterdeck.”

“That I will do.”

Vax met me as I reached the deck.

“And the cramph to starboard?”

“If Rukker can handle his swifter, I’ll take that one.”

“Then I will stand with you.”

I lifted an eyebrow, but did not comment. Truth to tell, at that moment I was pleased to have him with me in the fight. Rukker had his party poised, and I saw he had about twenty Katakis with him. Again the incongruity of Katakis actually being slaves, instead of slavers, struck me.

We could all hear the steady double drumbeat from the oncoming swifters. Their helm-Deldars kept them sweetly on course, going stern first, and I fancied they would both be smart ships. This was not going to be as easy as many of the ex-slaves seemed to think, screeching their joy at freedom and their malefic hatred of the damned Green Grodnims.

Duhrra said, “The one to starboard is
Vengeance Mortil,
Duh — just let me get aboard of her. . .”

Vax lifted his handsome, fine-featured face, with the blood staining under the skin. “It will give me exquisite pleasure to chastise her whip-Deldars.”

I said, “And each time you strike you will strike at your father, no doubt.”

He flung me a scorching look.

“It is likely, for he and they have much in common. He has done me a great injury and I shall never forgive him.”

“My old man,” said Nath the Slinger, walking up dripping wet, carrying a leather bag filled with stones, “used to knock the living daylights out of us kids. But he meant well, the old devil.”

“Back in Crazmoz,” said Duhrra, fussing with his hand, “my father was always chasing the women. My mother used the broomstick on him right merrily. Duh — how we all ran!”

My father had died of a scorpion sting, back on Earth; but now was no time to consider how that had affected my life.

“Just so long as we get onto the deck. By Zair! We hold the Grodnims in play and the men slide below and release the slaves. That’s the only way we’ll win.”

It was not the only way, of course; but it would be the easiest. And I wished this fight to be over so that I might resume my tasks in the Eye of the World.

A brief inquiry among the men as the two swifters hauled up to us established the second galley as
Pearl.
She was smaller, a two-banked six-four hundred-and-twenty swifter. She was not a dekares of the
Golden Chavonth
type. I eyed both of them as they backed up. Fazhan had those men of ours who had not found weapons at the upper tank looms. A little byplay had ensued there, for a group of ex-slaves without weapons had protested vigorously at taking their places on the rowing benches. I strode up, mighty fierce, not happy but knowing what I did was right.

“Give us weapons’“ bellowed the men. “We will fight!”

“You will row,” I said. “That will be your fighting.”

I did not say that by not already snatching up weapons they proved themselves less able than their comrades who had. But I glowered at them, and spoke more about the glory of Zair, and shook the Genodder, and finished with, “And two last things! Once we strike the damned Grodnims you will have weapons in plenty. And if you do not row I shall beat you most severely.”

They were convinced.