Petrodor: A Trial of Blood and Steel, Book 2 (80 page)

Errollyn awoke with a pain-dazed jolt as his hands fell free. Blood rushed back into his arms, and pain crackled as though he'd driven his arm into a fire. He hissed, flexing his hands, and noticed then that the chains had been separated midlength, as though by a sword. And now the ropes about his middle were coming undone.

“Who's there?” he asked hoarsely.

“Who do you think?” came the familiar retort. “Who else would be crazy
enough?” It sounded as though her teeth were chattering. Errollyn did not know whether to laugh or swear.

“Sasha, you're mad. How did you get on board?”

“When we've time enough for tales, I'll tell you. Now how in all the hells am I going to get these chains off your ankles?”

Errollyn let himself fall sideways onto one arm, and gasped with relief to lie on the decking, his back no longer cramping, his shoulders suddenly free. His feet, however, remained manacled to the base of the mast.

“Perhaps a key would be civilised?” he suggested.

“Aye, but I'd have to take that off someone, wouldn't I?” Sasha retorted, prowling about the mast, a shivering shadow in the darkness. “They're not likely to be obliging.” She squatted by the chains. “I broke my first sword on chain like this, only it didn't fracture properly until the middle of a great bloody battle.”

“I know, I was there.” Sasha looked at him. Errollyn struggled to sit up, caught her arm and kissed her on the lips. “You're cold.” The arm of her jacket was sodden beneath his hand. “You swam out?”

“Mari's boat. He swore he knew a way, which end of the ships casts a shadow from the deck light. Ship thieves sneak aboard all the time, whenever a ship is shorthanded or otherwise preoccupied.” Errollyn nodded as it dawned on him. After the casualties the
talmaad
had suffered, and with the running battle in the harbour, the ship crew would be both preoccupied and shorthanded. “Mari seemed to know quite a lot about it. His misspent youth, I think.”

“The battle's stopped?” Errollyn listened hard, but he couldn't hear the ballista firing.

“Some of Steiner's ships were chasing, it seems everyone's suddenly declaring themselves the rightful possessor of the Shereldin Star, and that means attacking serrin. Damn nuisance, mostly…three of them got burnt out and sunk, they can't exchange fire like this ship's got.” She laid her sword across the ankle manacles, measuring the blow. “I can sever the chain, but you won't be able to walk, and I sure as shit can't carry you.”

“Look, Sasha, you're freezing…you'll cut my foot off in that state. Only one person's been down here all night, and she wasn't supposed to come—get your jacket off and warm up a bit.”

“No time, damn it, Mari's waiting…”

“Sasha, I can barely move my arms.” It was true. If he tried to wield a sword he'd most likely drop it. “Jacket.” He pulled at her jacket and was mildly surprised when she yielded. “Here, sit,” he said as the jacket came off. Sasha sat with her back to him, knees curled up, as Errollyn rubbed her as
vigorously as his weak, throbbing hands could manage. “Why come for me?” he asked.

“Didn't trust Rhillian to treat you well,” Sasha replied through chattering teeth. “Looks like I was right, huh?” Her shirt was also sodden, and her skin cold beneath. Errollyn got his hands under the shirt and rubbed hard.

“I put a knife in one of them,” Errollyn explained sourly. “They didn't take it well.”

“Most people don't,” Sasha reasoned. “Is he…?”

“No. If I'm in any history books, it won't be for
that
.”

“You haven't done anything wrong, Errollyn,” Sasha said more forcefully, and the trembling of her jaw seemed to lessen. “You can't let people get away with gross injustice, even when they're otherwise decent. It's the principle.”

“It's
your
principle.”

“And not yours?”

Errollyn spared a moment to wrap his arms about her and press his cheek against her wet hair. She slumped against him, as though that embrace were enough reason to let every other concern and tension vanish for a short while. Errollyn felt his heart soar. “I'm glad you came, crazy fool,” he murmured in her ear.

“I had to come,” she replied, a touch desperately. “You're the only one who really understands me.” The words might have come from his own lips to her, Errollyn reflected. To hear her say it back to him…well, they had to get out of this alive, he thought. Because he wanted to take this amazing, energetic, wild, exasperating, beautiful, crazy person to bed and make love to her for about a year.

Sasha took another look at the manacles that bound Errollyn's ankles. They were thick and heavy, impenetrable save for where the tightening bolt joined the two halves together. The gap between the two parts was about the width of a sword.

“I can hit that,” Sasha observed.

“On a good day you can hit that,” Errollyn reassessed.

“Every day's a good day.” Sasha took up her blade, readied herself, and measured the blow. Errollyn winced, took a deep breath, and shut his eyes. And waited. And opened them once more to find Sasha had lowered her blade. “I can scarcely see it,” she admitted. Errollyn realised that if his own vision was poor down here, Sasha must be nearly blind. She might have been wielding by far the sharpest blade known to steel, but she'd have to hit the bolt with tremendous force to split it. Good svaalverd could impart force, but mostly it was a form designed to turn an opponent's strength against him. Inanimate objects were another matter entirely. And if she missed…

“Sasha,” Errollyn tried again, “go and get a key.”

Sasha stared at him for a moment in the gloom. “I don't want to have to hurt anyone.”

“Then don't. Not permanently, anyhow.”

Sasha sheathed the blade over her shoulder and heaved a short breath. “All right. Don't go anywhere.” She slid between the piled cargo and vanished. Errollyn knew what bothered her. It was easier for him to fight without swords. She was a strong woman for her size and, with a blade, neither size nor strength proved any hindrance to her formidable technique. Without a blade, however, her options narrowed. But Errollyn had confidence in her. She was…well, remarkable.

Soon enough she was back, a bunch of keys dangling from a silver ring in her hand. She knelt by his feet and began trying one after the other, grinning in the dark. “That easy?” Errollyn asked.

“I'd thought serrin many things, but never forgetful,” she said. “These were just lying on a table in the big quarters up that way.” She nodded toward the bow. “Everyone seems to be on deck.”

She found a key that fit, the manacles clanked and fell away. Errollyn tried to rise as his ankles came free, but his legs were weak. He waited a moment, squatting with a hand to the mast for balance.

“I'm sorry,” Sasha told him, “I couldn't find a blade for you.”

“Yours is enough for two,” Errollyn assured her.

“In this ship, I doubt it. There's no room at all in the corridors.” She looked worried again. “Look, beyond the hold, there's a passage that goes—”

“I know, I've been on these ships before.” His legs throbbed as blood flowed through his veins. His arms felt heavy, as though made of lead.

“You'd best lead, you can see better in the dark…”

Errollyn shook his head. “You know the way in, you know the way out.”

“No, I don't want to—”

There was a noise amidst the piled cargo. Sasha moved fast to her feet, blade drawn.

“Errollyn?” came a familiar female voice. “Look, I found some—” Aisha halted in midlimp. In her hands was a tray, holding various fruits Sasha did not recognise and a clay jug with some cups. She stared at Sasha, unmoving. Errollyn recognised the expression and rose to his feet.

“Aisha,” he said in Gethania dialect, “don't be frightened. She came to free me, that's all.”

“Frightened?” Sasha repeated, in Saalsi. Evidently she knew a little more dialect than she let on. “
Frightened
?” Her tone was disbelieving. “You're scared of
me
?”

“You're holding a sword in my face,” Aisha said warily, in Lenay. She stood on one leg, leaning on sacks for balance. Even standing had to be agony for her. “Why, if you're not prepared to use it?”

“You left him tied up like
that
?” Sasha's voice was nearly trembling with anger, pointing with her blade to the base of the mast. “You were just going to leave him there? Have you any idea what damage that can do?”

Aisha stared at her mutely. Then looked down at her tray. More food. Aisha's answer to everything. Errollyn might have laughed, were he not so sad for her. He put a gentle hand on Sasha's shoulder.

“It's all right, Sasha,” he said quietly. “It's not her fault. She just can't think for herself. None of them can.” Aisha's eyes flashed angrily. “Remember the pull, Aisha? Remember how it got you out of Maerler's mansion?” The anger faded. “You can't resist it. Nor can you deny it. As one serrin goes, so go you all.”

“I just thought…” Aisha tried, and stopped, staring down at her tray. “I mean, I can't just…”

“Aisha,” said Sasha. Now there was emotion in her voice. Almost tears. “Please, don't raise the alarm. Just let us go.”

Aisha just stared, mouth half open. She seemed almost paralysed. Errollyn swore, pushed past Sasha and gently removed the tray from Aisha's hands.

“Get off your feet, silly girl,” he told her, easing her down to the floor. He rested her back against the sacks, then checked the bandaging on her leg—it was firm, clean and smelled of strong potions. Then he checked the swelling on her head, mostly invisible beneath her pale blonde hair. Aisha leaned her head back on the sacks and breathed deeply.

Sasha crouched alongside. “Aisha? Are you well?”

“Just…a little dizzy.”

Errollyn caught Sasha's sideways glance and returned a meaningful look. Here it was, the dilemma of the serrinim, all wrapped up in Aisha's paralysis. Sasha's eyes were more comprehending than they might have been a few days before.

“Aisha…” Sasha tried again, “spirits, look, you're nearly out on your feet, you couldn't lie down when you knew Errollyn was suffering, you tried to help him however you could, short of actually untying him…Aisha, you know this is wrong. Don't you? You know this isn't what the serrinim are about?”

“Just…just tie me up,” Aisha said breathlessly. “Just tie me up, and then I can't…”

“Damn it, can't you make just one decision for yourself?” Sasha retorted,
exasperated. Aisha's glazed look was almost pleading. She didn't want to decide. She couldn't.

Suddenly Errollyn felt as frightened as he'd ever felt in battle. We're all so helpless, he thought. That's why we need those rare ones like Rhillian and Kiel. The ones who can make decisions; who can decide between greater and lesser evils. And if those rare ones get it wrong…

Sasha was staring at him, her expression incredulous. Finally, she was understanding. She shook her head faintly, and put a gentle hand on Aisha's forehead. “Aisha, I can't tie you up. You're hurt. Possibly no one will come down here for some time. Just stay down here for a while, and don't move. Can you do that for me?”

“I…” Aisha swallowed hard, sweat sheening her forehead. “I have to tell…”

“No.” Very firmly. “You don't have to tell anyone, Aisha. It's your choice.”

“It's not.” Feebly.

“Yes, it is.”

“No…you don't understand.”

Sasha took Aisha's hand in hers. “How hard do you feel it pulling, Aisha?” she asked gently. “What does it feel like?”

Aisha's pale blue eyes seemed to stare straight through her, as if she could see through the hull and up at the stars beyond. “It's all the world,” she murmured hoarsely. “I can't resist it. You act against the serrinim, and therefore I must…”

Sasha put careful fingers on her lips. “It's all right, Aisha. I understand.” She kissed the smaller woman on the forehead. “I love you, my friend.” They embraced, gently. Then Sasha gestured to Errollyn with a free hand. “Errollyn, carry her. We'll take her back to her bed.”

By the time they got there, Aisha was fast asleep in Errollyn's arms. “That's not a natural sleep, is it?” Sasha whispered to Errollyn as he tucked her carefully in. The small quarters was lit by a single lamp, bare wooden beams all around. Everything creaked in rhythm with a gentle swell.

“Natural enough for serrin,” Errollyn replied. “She was already exhausted. It was too much.”

“Can she do
anything
to contradict Rhillian?”

“It's not just Rhillian,” Errollyn said. “It's the situation. We all feel the peril. Like animals in herd, once the herd moves, we must move with it. Rhillian is only the first herd animal of many. It's impossible to resist.”

“More so than…than lust?”

“More so than fear,” Errollyn said quietly. And Sasha looked almost afraid at that.

“I'm glad you're
du'janah
,” she said quietly. “You're free.”

“Freedom is frightening,” Errollyn said simply.

They moved down creaking wooden steps into the cargo hold once more, and Errollyn could hear noises from on deck, distant shouts and ropes being pulled. They crept along the central passage between crates and sacks, past the mast and its abandoned chains. Toward the stern, a doorway led to a narrow wood passage. Sasha crept first, blade ready, and flattened herself to a wall when footsteps thumped above their heads. Light came dimly from a hanging lantern, high up where it could not be bumped by passing sailors.

The footsteps passed. Sasha cautiously climbed a ladder and peered onto the floor above, then pulled her feet up and vanished. Errollyn followed. This floor was sleeping quarters, rows of hammocks strung between wall hooks, all empty.

Sasha crept up the next ladder, holding her sword low as she climbed one-handed. Errollyn followed, his arms and legs throbbing. The possibility of discovery put his muscles on edge, but rather than tensing they trembled and wobbled, like an old man's arm on a walking cane. Sasha peered onto the deck, and Errollyn felt the cold breeze of the ocean.

Suddenly Sasha twisted on the ladder, dropping so that she could whisper in his ear, “To stern against the side rail, there's a coil of piled rope, four paces away. If you lie down within it, you're hidden.” He nodded shortly, hoping that her eyes were keen enough to know the difference between four paces and five.