Red Tide (40 page)

Galantas had shaken hands with all of the other clan leaders in his time, but they'd known more of his reputation than they did of him. Enigon's Squalls were traditional allies of the Spears, yet Enigon had always been Dresk's friend, not Galantas's, meaning his support here was far from assured. Neither Tolo's Keels nor Malek's Needles had strong ties to the Spears, but Galantas hoped he'd find an ally in Malek at least. There had been half a dozen Needle ships in Bezzle's harbor when the stone-skins attacked. Malek would want them back, and he was the sort of man who would take any chance to get them.

Galantas shifted his gaze to Kalag. The Raptor leader had been the one who'd ordered the raid nine years ago in which Galantas lost his arm, and the man took delight in reminding Galantas of that fact whenever possible. In Kalag's own mind, he had probably already assumed the mantle of warlord. Of all the clan leaders, he had the strongest claim. Perhaps Galantas should have been content to cede it to him. Perhaps he should have concentrated on securing his own position as head of the Spears, but his gaze was set on the ultimate prize. Fortunately, no vote could be taken on the matter of Dresk's successor until all of the clan leaders were present, and it would be some time yet before the likes of Starboard Stonne and Ysabel Tremeval arrived, so far were their territories located from the Hub. That gave Galantas time to prove his worth. And he had a plan in mind to do just that.

Qinta nudged him, and he looked up. Striding toward the bloodline—the circle of shark's blood surrounding the stones that marked the point beyond which only clan leaders could pass—was a middle-aged man wearing his hair in a topknot. A blow from a mace had knocked out the teeth on his right side, giving his face a crooked look. Ravin, ruler of the Falcon Clan. Here was the man whose arrival Galantas had been waiting for. Here was the man above all others he had to win to his cause tonight. For if the Spears and the Raptors were the strongest clans in the Isles, the Falcons were an undisputed third. If it came to a clash between Galantas and Kalag, it was Ravin who would hold the balance of power. Fortunate, then, that he was also the uncle of the boy Galantas had saved from the stone-skins in the South Corridor yesterday.

Ravin kicked dust over the bloodline in the ritual gesture, then strode toward the standing stones. The conversation among the other clan leaders briefly broke off.

Galantas stood and brushed sand from his trousers. The stage was set, the other players assembled. He lowered his hood and paused to give the nearby clansmen a chance to recognize him. A murmur of anticipation went up, and he felt an answering buzz in his blood. This was his moment. This was his destiny, and his kinsmen's destiny too. He knew the path they must take to greatness, and if a thousand men, or ten thousand, or a hundred thousand must fall on the way, then so be it. The best leaders were those who could see farther than others. And that would be Galantas's task here tonight: keep his kinsmen's gazes directed to the horizon so they didn't notice him digging the ground out from under their feet.

He kicked sand over the bloodline. The chiefs had not seen him yet. Ravin was speaking to Tolo in his distinctive mangled voice.

“… what I want to know is why the first warning of the attack came from Bezzle. What happened to the other watchtowers?”

“I'd like to hear the answer to that myself,” Galantas said, stepping into the circle.

Ravin turned. He didn't look pleased to see Galantas. None of them did. Kalag in particular was scowling.

“Well, well,” he said. “Seems some of the rats made it off the sinking ship after all. How's the arm, by the way?”

Galantas glanced at his empty short-cut sleeve. “What arm?”

The Needle chief, Malek, chuckled.

Galantas looked about the gathering. “Gentlemen,” he said by way of greeting. Enigon gave him a nod. Tolo didn't spare him even that. The youth had acquired a tattoo since Galantas last saw him—a thin stripe along the line of his chin that was doubtless intended to look like a beard, but instead resembled a helmet's chinstrap.

Ravin was solemn as he offered Galantas his hand. “My commiserations about your father.”

The man actually looked like he meant it, too. Evidently he expected Galantas to play the dutiful son, and it was a role Galantas could perform as well as any other. “Thank you,” he said gravely, shaking the offered hand. Then he turned to Tolo. “You were telling us about your watchtowers,” he said. The towers along the South Corridor—the direction from which the stone-skins had come—were mostly in Keel territory.

Tolo had the sullen eyes and uncertain speech of a boy half his age. “I don't answer to you.”

“You answer to us,” Galantas said, gesturing to take in the other clan leaders.

Tolo considered. At last he said, “The stone-skins attacked the towers just after the second bell. We've heard nothing from any of them since.”

Ravin said, “Even Black Point?”

“Even Black Point.”

The Falcon's brow furrowed. “Black Point is a Shroud-cursed fortress. No way the stone-skins could have taken it before someone rang its bell.”

The accusation behind his words was clear: Tolo had accepted gold to ensure his men looked the other way when the Augeran ships came. And why not? If the stone-skins had twenty thousand talents to throw at Dresk, odds were they had money to buy the Keels' cooperation too.

Tolo looked at the ground. “Maybe they
did
ring the bell. Maybe the other towers didn't hear it 'cause they had already fallen.”

“But
how
could they have fallen?” Galantas said. “Even I don't know where half your towers are, so how could the stone-skins?”

It was Kalag who answered. “You tell us. You got towers south of Bezzle too. Any o' them ring a note before the stone-skins came knocking?”

Galantas nodded as if that was the answer he'd wanted. “That shows the stone-skins were well prepared. That shows they've been planning to attack us for some time.”

Kalag didn't let that slide. “Attack us? It was
your
damned city they hit.”

“Tell that to the families of the Keels who died in the watchtowers. And what of the ships that were lost in Bezzle?” Galantas turned to Ravin. “The
Reef
was docked there, was she not?”

The Falcon nodded.

“Did her captain make it off the island?”

No response.

Galantas moved on to the Needle chief, Malek. “And the
Black Tide
came in this morning, didn't she?”

“Aye,” Malek spat. “Shroud's own cursed luck. And she weren't alone there, either.”

Galantas looked round the clan leaders. “The fact is, we all lost ships in the attack. Do you think the stone-skins didn't know that would happen? Do you think they'll give them back if you ask nicely?”

“You're forgetting your own part in this,” Kalag said. “You owe us, boy. You stirred up the shit when you shot their commander. You can damn well clean it up now.”

“What makes you so sure it was the Spears who shot him?”

Ravin spoke. “You know something we don't?”

“I know that by the time the stone-skin commander was shot, my father had already taken his gold. I know the Spears had nothing to gain from his death.” Galantas made a dismissive gesture. “But that is a matter for another time. The reason we're here is to decide how to respond to the stone-skins' attack. And I say we strike back.”

Kalag laughed. “The way I heard it, the stone-skins needed only five ships to take your city. They've got more than double that now.”

Galantas raised his voice to carry to those beyond the bloodline. “What are you saying? That we should surrender before the war has even started?” Then, before Kalag could reply, “So what if the stone-skins have taken Bezzle? If the watchtowers had told us they were coming, we would have given them the city anyway. On land we may be no match for them, but on the sea we have no equal.”

A murmur of approval from the clansmen met his words, but Kalag spoke over it. “If you had the ships, maybe. Pity, then, that you lost the best part of your fleet in Bezzle.”

Enigon said, “Ah, but my dear Kalag, you're forgetting the stone-skins' twenty thousand talents.” It was said with his usual grin, but there was an edge to his voice that suggested he was still smarting from Dresk's refusal to share the loot. “Easy to replace a few ships when you've got that sort of money in your pockets.”

Galantas matched the clan leader's smile. “Alas, it seems my pockets have holes in them.”

Kalag was loving it. “You lost the money? What, all of it?” He threw back his head and laughed. “Hear that, lads? The fool's lost twenty thousand talents!” The Raptor fished in his own pocket and pulled out a sovereign that he tossed to Galantas. “Here, boy, take this! Let no one say the Raptors didn't help the Spears in their time of need!”

Galantas caught the coin and looked down at it to see the face of Emperor Avallon Delamar looking back at him. Kalag was making this too easy. “Thanks,” he said, tossing the sovereign back. “But
I
don't take Erin Elalese gold. Besides, while you might be prepared to surrender your ships without a fight, I don't give in so easily. Which is why I intend to take them back.”

More murmurs, louder this time.

“How?” Malek said, his gaze intent. “Even if you had the numbers to retake Bezzle, the stone-skins would fire the ships before you could reach them.”

“They won't have time.”

“Oh? They've got ships outside the harbor and men inside the city. They'll see you coming long before you get there.”

“Will they?” Galantas had them all hanging on his words now, and he took a moment to savor the sensation. Beyond the bloodline the assembled clansmen were silent. The only sound was the crackle of the torches and the murmur of the sea. “Imagine you're the stone-skins. Where would you expect a counterstrike to come from? From inland, of course, where most of my people fled. Or from the sea, as Malek says. But what if there was another way into Bezzle? A way the stone-skins didn't know about?” He kept them waiting an instant before explaining. “The Serpentine Aqueduct. It runs under the city from the north and comes out at the White Pool. It's wide enough for a man to walk along, and there's no way anyone in the city will hear you coming. I should know, I've used it enough times. And if none of you have thought about it, odds are the stone-skins haven't either.”

Malek's eyes gleamed. “This pool, is it close to the harbor?”

“A stone's throw at most. The Augerans will have men on the waterfront, but they'll be spread thin. I'm guessing they'll be more worried about guarding their own ships than they are about watching empty Rubyholt ones. A small force should be able to reach those ships and launch them before the stone-skins respond.”

“There's still the problem of the enemy ships outside the harbor. If they blockade the entrance, you'll be trapped inside.”

“Those ships will have other things to worry about, because just as the land assault gets under way, a fleet of Rubyholt vessels will attack the port. The attack will be a feint, of course, aimed at drawing the stone-skins away.”

Malek's expression was thoughtful. “And if the stone-skins pursue those Rubyholt vessels when they retreat?”

“Then we make them regret it. Earlier today I lured a stone-skin ship into the Dragon's Boneyard. It didn't end well for them. I suspect they might think twice now before following us into unfamiliar waters after dark.”

Kalag sat down on a toppled stone. “And how are you gonna launch a sea strike when so many of your ships are in stone-skin hands?”

“That's where the rest of you come in.”

Kalag stared at him. Then he laughed.

Galantas scanned the other clan leaders and saw the Raptor's amusement reflected there. Disappointing, but not wholly unexpected. He added a note of steel to his voice. “My father is dead, yet I see his influence lives on. Fifteen years as warlord, and all he could unite you in was contempt for his rule.” He shook his head. “But the pattern was set before Dresk became warlord, was it not? I am old enough to remember the Third Clan War, but too young to have played a part in it. Remind me, what was it you fought over? Some worthless piece of rock no bigger than this circle.”

“Spare us your history lesson, boy,” Kalag said, but the Falcon leader, Ravin, held up a hand.

“This ‘boy'”—he nodded at Galantas—“put his balls on the block yesterday to save one of my men on the
Lively.
If he's got something to say, I'm willing to hear him out.”

Galantas suppressed a smile. He'd been counting on just such an intervention. That was why he'd waited for Ravin to arrive before making his own entrance. All he'd gained, though, was a chance to speak. Now he'd have to pick his words carefully, lest any inappropriate truths leak out.

“My lesson isn't over,” he said. “Eight tribes we are now, but how many were there at the beginning of the Seventh Age? Fourteen.” His voice turned bitter. “Six tribes we've lost in that time. And how many of those tribes fell to outsiders, do you suppose? Not one. You would think we'd have learned our lesson by now, but some of us”—he glanced at Kalag—“will still take foreign coin to pick a fight with their own kin. It's blood money, nothing less. And why do you think the likes of Avallon Delamar is prepared to pay it? Because he wants us divided. Because he remembers what happened the last time we fought against him.”

Kalag wiped away a pretend tear, but Galantas ignored him. He'd always known the Raptor would not be for turning. It was Ravin's and Malek's support he needed.

“Enigon,” Galantas said, “your tribe is descended from Xaver Jay, is it not?”