Rebellion: Tainted Realm: Book 2 (26 page)

“What are you doing?” said Tali. “Where are you taking me?”

Kroni did not answer. She tried to dredge up her magery, anything at all, but exhaustion would not allow her to focus.

He dragged her into the shadows between two storerooms, then out onto the seaward side of the docks, down twenty steps and onto the boardwalk that led to the distant boats and the sea. Before they had gone a hundred yards the riders clattered onto the docks, shining their lanterns about and roaring at one another.

“Don’t move.” Kroni pulled her down onto the boards and cast a grey cloak over them both. “Don’t look towards the lanterns.”

From the corner of an eye she saw a tall fellow come to the top of the steps and shine his lantern along the boardwalk. It cast a bright light and she was sure it would pick them out. He waved it back and forth, evidently watching for moving shadows, then turned away.

Tali was about to stand up when Kroni crushed her shoulder. His fingers were hard as brass. “I said, don’t move!”

The tall man turned suddenly and shone his lantern down the boardwalk again. Tali’s heart slammed into her ribs. He would have seen her. He studied the boardwalk, the mudflats on the left and the marshlands to the right, then turned back to the search of the docks.

“Now,” said Kroni.

He heaved her to her feet and led her down towards the sea. She stumbled; his arm went around her shoulders and held her up.

“What’s the matter with you?”

“Lost too much blood,” she said limply. “Hardly stand up.”

His arm curled around her waist, taking most of her weight, and he hurried on.

“Where you taking me?” she panted.

“Depends on the answers you give me.”

“What answers?”

“Good ones.”

“You – a spy for Lyf?” gasped Tali. “You – working for Lyf?”

He gave a derisory snort.

“Who then?”

When he did not reply, a cold fist clenched around her heart. Kroni must be a privateer, and she was worth a fortune. He had been watching her for ages, and now he was planning to carry her away and sell her to the highest bidder. How much would Lyf pay to be delivered the host of the master pearl? What would the chancellor give? Enough to corrupt almost any man.

She tried to pull free. Even if she fell off into the marsh and drowned it would be better than having her head hacked open while she was still alive. If she drowned, she would thwart them all. The pearl had to be harvested from a live host.

“Don’t!” said Kroni, holding her easily.

In another five minutes she heard water lapping and the boardwalk ended in a T shape, running to left and right beside ragged lines of piles driven into the mud. Several boats were moored there and the reek of fishy water in the bilges took her breath away.

He hauled her to the left, then along a series of slimy, algae-covered planks to three pairs of piles where a number of smaller boats were tied up. He thrust her down in the shadows between two boats. It was exposed here, and an icy wind was blowing across the water, stirring her short hair.

He glanced back towards the main boardwalk. “They’re coming, and I need answers, fast. What’s your name? Your real name?”

Could she trust him? Could she trust anyone? She didn’t know anything about Kroni – he might be a privateer, or he might, possibly, be genuine. On the other hand, she knew what the chancellor would do if he got her back.

“There’s no time left,” said Kroni, and she could hear the urgency in his voice.

If she went with him, it would buy her time, at least. “It’s Tali,” she burst out. “Thalalie vi Torgrist.”

He whistled. “You’re the escaped Pale?”

“Yes.”

“But what are you – patriot or traitor?”

“I love my country,” said Tali.

“Which one?” he said roughly. “Hightspall or Cython?”

“Hightspall, of course. What do you take me for?”

“I haven’t decided, though the chancellor did imprison you, and the word in Fortress Rutherin names you a traitor.”

“He spread that lie to conceal me from my enemies. You saw how Lizue tried to kill me.”

“Kill
you
?” said Kroni. “The way I read the evidence, she tried to save you from the sour fellow in the other cell.”

“No; Lizue’s Cythonian. She burned through the bars and tried to kill me. The Sullen Man is – was – the chancellor’s spy. He tried to save my life, and died for it.”

“She didn’t look Cythonian,” said Kroni.

“She does now. The glamour on her broke at the same time as the one the chief magian put on me.”

“The Cythonians don’t use magery.”

“But Lyf does.”

“How would you know that?”

“Because I’ve met him. Fought him.”

“Now I know you’re lying. You’re just a slip of a girl —”

Tali’s fury gave her strength. “I’m the first Pale to escape Cython in a thousand years,” she snapped. “I’ve been to the wrythen’s caverns under Precipitous Crag, I’ve jousted verbally with the chancellor himself and given as good as I got. And he rewarded me, too —”

She was getting into dangerous waters. Old Kroni had a remarkably keen mind for a clock mechanic, and there were certain questions she didn’t want raised at any price.

“Really?” said Kroni. “What for?”

“Mind your own business.”

He glanced along the boardwalk. “You’ve got one minute to satisfy me that you’re on our side. If you can’t, I’ll give you up to the chancellor.”

“And pocket a fat reward,” she said bitterly.

“Should I not be rewarded for capturing such a valuable and elusive spy and traitor?” he said mildly. “Why did the chancellor reward you, incidentally?”

She did not think Kroni was much better than her pursuers, but he was the only hope she had. And the searchers were getting closer; she could see their lights clearly now.

“I told him that Lady and Lord Ricinus were planning his assassination.”

He let out a low whistle. She’d surprised him.

“I understood that Rix Ricinus informed on his mother for high treason,” said Kroni, “and that’s why the chancellor refused to have him.”

“He forced it out of Rix; but the chancellor already knew, because I’d told him the day before. But he’s a vengeful man; that’s why he hacked Rix’s hand off with his own sword. And because Rix is Herovian.”

“Is that so?” said Kroni.

“Yes. He carries Axil Grandys’ enchanted sword.”

“He carries Maloch?”

“You know the name of his sword?”

“I like to read. It’s in the history books. What was your reward?”

“The chancellor’s spectible.”

“He gave you his
spectible
?”

“I did him a mighty favour. Besides, his chief magian couldn’t use it.”

“And you can, I assume? What did you want it for?”

“To try and get control of my magery —”

“All right, I’ve heard enough. Come on.” He jerked her to her feet.

“Where are we going?”

He pointed to the cabin boat they had been sheltering behind. It was about thirty feet long, with a small deck in front of the little cabin and a larger deck behind it with a tall mast in the middle.

“Get in.”

“You’re… going out to sea?”

“Why else would I have come this way? What’s the matter?”

“I’m afraid… of the water,” she said quietly.

“More afraid than you are of them?
Get in!”

“Hoy! You! Stop right there.” The leading group on the boardwalk, five or six of them, broke into a run.

Kroni threw Tali over the rail, cast off the mooring ropes fore and aft, and leapt nimbly in. The boat began to drift seawards with the wind, which was blowing down from the mountains. He unfurled a scrap of sail then ran into the cabin to the wheel. He spun it and the boat heeled over.

But it was still moving slowly and the guards were hurtling down the boardwalk. The gap between the boat and the pier was only three feet, four, five. Still an easy leap. Six feet… seven… eight – a difficult jump now, but possible.

The guards hurtled up. Ten feet… twelve. They skidded to a stop at the end of the pier, screaming abuse, for the gap was now beyond any man to jump. Fifteen feet… twenty. Kroni left the wheel and hauled on ropes, trimming the sail. It caught the wind and shot down the channel into the bay, and she was safe. From immediate pursuit, at least. Though not from the water, and perhaps not from Kroni either.

“Come in out of the wind,” said Kroni.

She followed him into the cabin. It was about six feet by eight, beautifully built from honey-coloured timber that had been polished until it shone and coated with layers of varnish. There was a large round window forward, small portholes to either side and a sliding door onto the rear deck.

Bench seats ran along the left side and the rear, to the door, and there was a small fixed table in the corner in front of the seats. A low door, latched open, led to a square hatch and a ladder that ran down into a lower cabin, or perhaps the hold. She couldn’t tell; it was dark down there.

“Anything else you want to tell me?” said Kroni, gesturing to the seats.

“Don’t think so.” Tali sat, wanting to lie down and close her eyes and not move for a week. “What about you, Kroni?”

“Kroni,” he said, smiling. “That takes me back. I really am a clockmaker, you know. A good one, though you may think me boastful for saying it. You would have realised that Kroni was a pseudonym. My name is Holm.”

“Holm what?”

“It’ll do for the time being.”

“Whose boat is this?”

“Mine. I built it twenty years ago.”

“So you’re also a master boat builder?”

“I dabble.”

“What do you want me for?”

“Youth of today!” he sighed theatrically. “So suspicious. I don’t want you for anything.”

“Everyone I’ve ever met wanted something from me… except Tobry.” Tears welled and she turned away hastily.

He adjusted the pocket handkerchief sail and returned to the wheel. “The only Tobry I’ve heard of came from the fallen House of Lagger.”

She nodded. She could not trust herself to speak.

“And?” he prompted.

She told the bitter story in as few words as possible.

“And you had feelings for him?” said Holm.

“I didn’t plan to.”

“Does anyone ever
plan
to have feelings for another person?” he asked mildly.

Tali felt a fool. “I swore to gain justice for my murdered mother. I didn’t have time for anything else…”

“But those treacherous feelings crept up on you anyway?” Holm was smirking now.

“I was too busy. I was on a quest.”

“So you denied your own feelings.”

“All right! Yes, I loved Tobry,” she said, sniffling. “But I didn’t realise it until it was too late.”

“I’m sorry.”

She did not want his sorrow or his pity. She wiped her eyes. “Where are you taking me?”

“Won’t know until we get out through the heads.”

“Why not?”

“Depends what we see. It’s been weeks since I was out on the open sea. Things change rapidly at this time of year.”

“Which way do you want to go?”

“North towards Bleddimire, of course.”

“Why there?” said Tali.

“It’s warmer, safer and further from the enemy.”

“What if you can’t go north?”

“Not west. There’s solid ice for a thousand miles.”

“South?”

“I hope not. Too much pack ice. Get some rest.”

She shivered. “Have you got a spare coat?”

He took a heavy, fur-lined coat from a long, narrow compartment and handed it to her. Tali wrapped it around herself. He closed the cabin door. She hunched in the corner of the two bench seats, behind the table, braced herself against the rolling and closed her eyes, hoping for sleep.

It did not come, and she knew why. She was in a tiny, flimsy piece of wood, on the vast and endless sea, and if anything went wrong she was going to drown. She had nearly drowned once, crossing a lake in the Seethings with Rix and Tobry, and it had left her with a terror of water.

Time drifted; she could not have told whether ten minutes had passed, or an hour. Then suddenly the movement of the vessel changed. Instead of rolling gently it was pitching up and down, as well as rocking back and forth in plank-creaking jerks that kept hurling her off her seat.

She became aware of the wind whistling through the lines and shaking the boat violently. Occasionally a gust would heel it over until the rail almost broke the sea and all she could see were enormous, foaming waves rolling towards them in every direction. They were passing through the heads, out into the open sea.

“Coming up for a bit of weather,” Holm said laconically.

The boat righted itself. They passed out through the heads. The wind howled and hurled rain at them like solid pellets. The waves out here seemed twice as high as before. Holm turned north. They crested a wave bigger than any they had encountered before. The wind flung them over, the boat righted itself like a cork, and ahead, covering the sea from east to west, Tali saw it.

A wall of ice, hundreds of feet high.

“Guess we’re not going north after all,” said Holm.

The night dragged on, one of the most gut-gnawing of Tali’s life. Every minute she expected the little craft to founder and plunge to the bottom, or to strike one of the many floes and icebergs that littered the sea like white confetti. They were larger, more jagged and more numerous the further south they went.

But whatever else Holm was, he was a master seaman. He handled the little craft with the delicacy of a surgeon, picking his way between the bergs and floes without so much as a scrape in the varnish.

As the hours crept by, her need for sleep became a desperate, all-consuming ache, but the more she tried to sleep the more it eluded her. Whenever she closed her eyes her head spun until she thought she was going to throw up. She hunched in the corner with a blanket wrapped around her sea coat and endured the dizziness and nausea as best she could.

“Drink this,” he said, shaking her by the shoulder.

He was holding a steaming metal cup. “What is it?”

“Ginger tea. It’ll settle your stomach.”

“Stomach isn’t the problem. It’s my spinning head.”

“It’ll do your head some good, too.”

She took the cup and warmed her cold fingers around it. “How do you boil water on a wooden boat?”

“There’s a stove. We have all the comforts here. It’s just like home.”

The boat climbed a monster swell, up and up, revealing terrifying, white-capped waves through the round front window. She shuddered.

“When I was a slave in Cython, home was a tiny cell carved out of rock, with a stone bunk, and my only possession was a loincloth.”

“But it felt like home?”

“When I was little. When my mother was alive. It was all I knew.”

“Well, there you are. And this boat is my home.”

Tali sipped her tea. The sickening motion inside her head eased, though it did not disappear.

“Would you like breakfast? Bacon? Eggs?”

She salivated. “I… don’t think I’ll risk it.”

“You’ve got to eat something.”

He checked all around, lashed the wheel so the boat would run straight, then went down the ladder, returning with a steaming saucepan.

“That was quick,” said Tali.

“I put it on when I made the tea.”

He dropped a knob of butter into the saucepan, spooned in a quarter of a cup of honey and handed her the saucepan and a spoon.

“What is it?” she said, eyeing the grey, buttery mess uneasily.

“Just porridge. It’ll put a healthy lining on your stomach – what there is of it.”

She sampled it. “It’s good!” she exclaimed. “It’s – it’s wonderful.”

He smiled with his eyes. “Compliments, eh? I’ll cook for you any day.”

The porridge settled her stomach and the honey sent a surge of energy through her. The weakness in her knees retreated a little.

They sailed on. Holm went in and out many times, adjusting the little sail. The hot tea delivered a tingling heat and the wonderful coat kept it in. It was the first time she had been truly warm since Caulderon. She dozed.

“Where
are
we going?” she said, as a watery, haloed sun clawed its way over the horizon. She rubbed her sore eyes.

“South to The Cape, then east along the strait between Hightspall and Suden – if we can manage it.”

“Why wouldn’t we?”

“Pack ice. We can’t go far offshore, but close to shore is equally dangerous.”

“Why?” She didn’t know much about the sea. “Are there reefs?”

“Yes, and shoals, and dangerous currents, but they’re not the main dangers. People are.”

“Pirates?” She wasn’t entirely sure that Holm wasn’t one.

“The chancellor controls the land south of Rutherin to The Cape, and he’ll be watching for us. But after we round The Cape, southern Hightspall is now Cythonian territory all the way to Esterlyz.”

“What’s Esterlyz?”

“The south-eastern corner of Hightspall. Why does the enemy want to kill you, anyway?”

“I told you,” Tali muttered, not meeting his eye. These waters were as dangerous to navigate as the ones he was sailing through.

“I don’t believe you did.”

“Well, I would have thought it was obvious.”

“I’m set in my ways and I like things spelled out. Indulge me.”

“Because I was the first slave to escape from Cython. They have to punish me and set an example to the other slaves.”

“That all?”

“I also know Cython’s secrets.”

“What, all of them?” he said, grinning.

Was he mocking her? “Enough to be invaluable if the chancellor ever attacks Cython.”

“I still don’t see why
he
wants you so badly. Didn’t he question you about Cython?”

“At length.”

“And all the enemy prisoners would have been interrogated. The chancellor’s cartographers would have made maps of Cython.”

“A map’s not as good as a guide!” she blurted, then flushed.

“A guide for what? Leading an army into Cython?” For the first time, Holm seemed off-balance.

“How would I know?” she said lamely.

The muscles along his jaw had gone tight. “What the hell is he thinking?”

“He’s preparing the ground; gathering his forces; evaluating all kinds of options.” Why was she defending him?

“While the enemy is seizing the ground and destroying our forces.”

“Well, he’s making alliances…” Tali noticed Holm’s grim smile. “What’s the matter?”

“Why are you apologising for your enemy’s failures?”

“I – I don’t know. We often talked. The chancellor told me things he can’t say to anyone else.”

“If he doesn’t stop talking and start fighting it’ll be too late. Then all the strategies and alliances won’t make a jot of difference —”

Holm broke off, adjusted the sail then took the wheel again, rubbing his jaw.

Tali looked out but saw nothing save ice and heavy seas. “Is something wrong?”

“Thought I saw something in the water, way across to port.”

“What do you mean, ‘to port’?”

He jerked a gnarled thumb to the left. “That way.”

In the morning light, the crisscrossing scars on his fingers stood out against the tanned skin. “Have you been tortured?”

He looked down. “They’re work scars. From clock springs, mostly.”

“I’ve no idea what a clock spring is.”

“It’s a long strip of metal – steel or brass – wound into a tight coil. The tension drives the clock. Some clocks, anyway. But when you have to take a coil out, sometimes it snaps open. Bloody business.”

“How did you come to be a clockmaker?”

“I failed at something important —” His mouth tightened; he looked away. “The opportunity came up. Always been good with my hands.”

He went out and climbed twenty feet up the mast, hanging on with one hand and staring off to port. With every sickening roll of the boat the mast swayed halfway across the sky and she felt sure he was going to be hurled off, to break every bone in his body. Or go over the side and never be seen again.

What would she do if he went into the water? How would she get him out? In her present state she would not have a hope.

Tali imagined being trapped on a boat she had no idea how to sail, frantically trying to work the sail and the rudder without having any idea what she was doing, fighting the wind and the waves at the same time… Then the slow, sickening roll, the monstrous seas coming over the side and the little vessel foundering and carrying her down with it, the icy water flooding into her lungs —

Holm hit the deck with a thump, burst in and spun the wheel.

“What’s the matter?” cried Tali.

“Shell racers.”

“What are shell racers?”

“Long, low racing craft, rowed by four oarsmen. With a scrap of sail they’re faster than anything in the water, downwind. And infinitely manoeuvrable. They can go anywhere, even upwind.”

“I wouldn’t want to be out in these seas on a little rowing boat.”

“Nor I,” said Holm. “I’ve rowed them. They break up too easily.”

“What happens if they break up?”

“Go in water this cold and there’s only one minute to get you out. Beyond a minute, you die.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, studying her face. “But the massive reward the chancellor will be offering for you is worth any risk.”

And Tali still had no idea what Holm wanted from her.

He paused, then went on, slowly, “Time was when I would have thought the same. I was a great risk taker when I was young… though not all of them came off.”

Tali wasn’t sure how to interpret that. “What do we do when they catch us?”

“Can you shoot a bow and arrow?”

“No.”

“But you do know how to fight?”

“Only with my hands.”

“How good are you?”

“Not good enough to beat armed men.”