Red Tide (41 page)

“It is.”

“And Kalag, what of yours?”

Kalag did not reply, but he didn't need to. Every clan claimed descent from Jay—the notorious pirate and former Storm Lord who had founded the Rubyholt nation after he fled the Sabian League centuries ago. His likeness was carved into a hundred different cliffs around the Isles.

“Four years ago,” Galantas said, “we fought against the Erin Elalese when they invaded. Malek, I remember at Summer Point when my father's water-mage took a stray arrow. You sailed rings round his attackers until Dresk could limp to the Shoals.”

Malek nodded.

“And Tolo,” Galantas went on, “as I recall, your father broke the blockade on Colgen as the enemy was preparing to attack the Falcons. Ravin repaid the favor when his catapults on the Dusk Strait took out an Erin Elalese ship chasing the
Mariana.
”

More nods.

“A shame, isn't it,” Galantas said, “that it takes an invasion to stop us fighting each other. And what has that fighting brought us to? Hells, the stone-skins just attacked one of our cities, and we can't even agree on whether to hit back.” Kalag opened his mouth to speak, but Galantas forestalled him with a raised finger. “Shhh! Listen! Can you hear that?” Frowns and puzzled looks. Galantas cocked his head. “There, if you listen hard enough. Can you hear it now? That's the sound of the stone-skins laughing at us. The Erin Elalese and the Storm Lords too. Avallon sends his pitiful fleet into our waters. The Sabian League refuses to put an end to Dragon Day, or to pay us compensation for the damage caused by the dragons. And why should they? We're no threat to them. How soon do you think that will change if we keep fighting among ourselves?”

He paused to gauge the other clan leaders' reactions. Ravin's scowl could have signaled he shared Galantas's indignation, but it could equally have indicated disapproval at Galantas's words. Malek, meanwhile, was clicking his overlong fingernails together as if he wanted him to get to the point.

“Some of you may think the divisions between us go too deep to be mended,” Galantas went on. “And if you look back, you'll find no shortage of feuds to pin a grievance on. Nothing sticks in the throat like a grudge, eh? But I prefer to look for the things we have in common. Our blood ties. The victories we've won.” He looked round the clan leaders. “I'm offering you the chance at another. You all want to take back the ships you lost in Bezzle. So how are you going to do that? You don't want to help me, fine. I'll hit the harbor myself and take my chances with the stone-skin blockade. But what then? You could try your luck with your own raid afterward. How do you reckon that will go, though, once I've kicked up the nest? If we do this, we do it together.”

And with that Galantas stepped back to signal he was done.

For a while no one spoke. The cries of the blueback whale sounded from the east. A breath of wind tugged at the torches. All eyes were on Ravin and Malek, yet it seemed neither man wanted to be first to show his hand. Galantas resisted an urge to break the silence. He'd said what he had to say. To speak again might be read as desperation. In any case, it wasn't as if he was asking for more than he was offering. The others had probably expected him to plead for help in retaking Bezzle, or to argue for some half-assed alliance against the stone-skins. But this wasn't about war with the Augerans. This was about proving the clans could work together.

And that Galantas was the best man to do the working for.

Malek's voice took him by surprise. “What's your assessment of the stone-skins' capabilities?”

“They're good. Or at least their Honored are—that's what they call their elite fighters. But they still bleed easily enough, for all that their skin looks like stone. On land we would struggle to match them. At sea…” He shrugged. “A single Augeran ship took out two Falcons, but they had the advantage of surprise, and the damage was done by their sorcerers. As for their seamanship, we will have to see.”

“And this raid on the harbor you're planning … how many men would there be?”

“Two hundred,” Galantas said without hesitation. “We strike hard and fast, target twenty ships at most.”

“A water-mage on each?”

He nodded.

“When?”

“When do we hit them?” Galantas smiled. “Why, now, of course.”

Kalag was incredulous. “Now?”

“What's the matter? Is it past your bedtime?” Then, to the other clan leaders: “The longer we wait, the greater the risk of more stone-skins arriving.”

Kalag's look turned sly. “And who's going to lead this force?”

“Me. No one knows Bezzle better than I do.”

“You?” The Raptor laughed. “A green boy? I was leading raids like this when you were still a bulge in your father's trousers.”

Galantas's expression darkened. Kalag knew he had lost the argument, so he was trying to muscle in on the glory. “And age is what counts, is it? Let us scour the Isles then, find the oldest grayhair to lead the attack.” Men like Kalag seemed to think they deserved respect because they happened to have been born first. To Galantas's mind, that just meant they'd had more time to make fools of themselves.

“It ain't age I'm talking about,” Kalag said, “it's experience—”

“Experience?” Galantas cut in. “And what experience is that? Of bending over and taking it from my father for fifteen years?”

Hoots from beyond the bloodline. Kalag turned red. He reached for his sword hilt, but Malek seized his wrist. “Enough,” the Needle said, “Galantas is right. The city is his, the plan is his. He should have the command.”

Galantas wanted to punch the air, but he kept his voice even. “And the sea strike? Who will lead that?”

“I will,” Malek said. “But I have only three ships here to call on.” He looked round the other clan leaders. “I'll need more than that if I'm to draw the stone-skins off.”

Ravin grunted. He was frowning at Galantas as if Galantas had just asked for his daughter's hand in marriage. But he nodded his support all the same.

Enigon and Tolo followed close behind.

 

C
HAPTER
14

R
OMANY LEANED
back in her chair and scanned the Erin Elalese delegation across the table. Avallon and Tyrin Lindin Tar were leafing through two leather-bound books, the emperor with genuine interest, the tyrin huffing in obvious irritation at Mazana Creed's tardiness. Two nameless soldiers were stationed behind her. The mage, Jelek Balaran, completed Avallon's party—unless you counted Senar Sol among their number, of course, and the priestess suspected not even the Guardian knew if you could. He stood to Romany's left at the midpoint of the desk, neither on one side or the other, as befitted his divided loyalties.

She studied the emperor. In all honesty, she'd expected a leader of his notoriety to cut a more imposing figure, but when did a man's substance ever measure up to his reputation? A charismatic ruler, the reports said, yet doubtless those reports had been written by Avallon himself. A merciless man, too, and that trait at least Romany had no trouble believing, considering the manner in which he'd crushed resistance to Erin Elalese influence in the Confederacy cities. That made her wonder what he'd do if Mazana refused to support him in his conflict with the stone-skins. Would he risk moving against her here, in Gilgamar, in the hope her successor proved more amenable? It seemed unlikely, but at least the
threat
of a confrontation might open up opportunities Romany could exploit. When the time came for her to act against Mazana, she would have no shortage of suspects onto whom she could shift the blame.

The door opened, and Mazana swept in, accompanied by Jodren and his twittering coral bird. The emira's gaze met Romany's, and the priestess saw nothing in her eyes to suggest Senar had told her of their encounter at the portal. Avallon rose and inclined his head, but Lindin remained seated. As Mazana took her place opposite the emperor, it struck Romany how unalike the two factions were. Avallon sat between two of his famed Circle, Lindin and Jelek—companions who would gladly lay down their lives for him, or some such nonsense. And who had Mazana chosen to be in her corner? A mercenary commander whose allegiance might be bought by someone else tomorrow; and Romany herself, who had been tasked by the Spider with killing the woman. It wasn't even as if Mazana had any more trusted allies outside the room, what with the other Storm Lords dead and the Storm Council disbanded.

The emira and Avallon inspected each other across the desk like opponents over a hafters board. Of the two of them it was clear Mazana held the advantage of the queen's pieces, for it was the emperor who had requested this meeting, the emperor who had most to fear from the stone-skins' coming. Avallon smiled. There was something about that smile that grated on Romany. Like it was given as a gift in the expectation Mazana and her party would bask in it. This meeting would doubtless be a novel experience for him, since he would be used to giving orders, not negotiating. Would he be able to keep his pride in check long enough to persuade the emira of his cause?

Mazana wouldn't make it easy for him, that much at least was clear.

“Is this it?” Avallon said, his gaze sweeping the emira's end of the table. “Will your shaman not be joining us?”

Mazana cocked her head. “I'd have thought you had enough shamans of your own, what with the Remnerol homeland falling inside your borders.”

“I've got dozens. And all telling me different things. Whereas your man was apparently able to pinpoint the precise location of two of my people in the Rubyholt Isles. Senar Sol told me of the Chameleons' mission to Bezzle.”

The emira glanced at the Guardian. “Did he now?”

Senar kept silent.

Avallon said, “Your shaman saw exactly where my agents would be—”

“Where they
might
be,” Mazana corrected him.

“Nevertheless, you trusted his judgment enough to act on it.”

“Enough to gamble the lives of two entirely expendable Chameleons, yes.”

“Small stakes, big prize?”

“If you like.”

A ghost of another smile crossed Avallon's face. “And this prize you sought … the destruction of the stone-skin fleet. A retaliation for Dragon Day?”

Romany saw where the emperor was heading with this. If he could get Mazana to acknowledge she saw the stone-skins as a threat, that would be a good first step toward establishing common cause between the Storm Isles and Erin Elal. Perhaps he had a point too. Mazana, though, was clearly not minded to concede it, for she said, “Just a little message to the Augerans that their involvement in Dragon Day did not go unnoticed. And a warning of what would happen if they interfered in my affairs again.”

Avallon had to purse his lips to stop himself from arguing the matter further. He drank a mouthful of wine from his glass. “Your shaman was able to tell you that my agents were in Bezzle, but was he also able to explain
why
?”

“No.”

“Then let me fill in the gaps. On Dragon Day, an Augeran emissary arrived in the Isles to request an audience with the warlord. The reason for the audience wasn't made clear, but I think we can assume the stone-skins wanted safe passage for their fleet. It was possible, of course, that Dresk would refuse. It was also possible the stone-skins' target would be the Sabian League, not Erin Elal. But there seemed no reason to take the risk. So I sent someone to turn the warlord against the stone-skins by whatever means necessary.”

“Because you'll stop at nothing to drag your neighbors into your war.”

Avallon waved the comment aside as if it were unworthy. “The meeting between Dresk and the Augerans was due to take place today—”

“Today?” Mazana cut in. “Oh, I think you'll find it happened before that.”

The emperor stared at her, caught off guard. Romany could almost hear the cogs whirring in his head. He would be wondering precisely when the stone-skins arrived in Bezzle, and whether his agents had made it there before them. He would also be wondering how he was going to extract this information from Mazana without asking her directly.

Lindin Tar came to his rescue. “When?” she asked simply.

Romany rolled her eyes. With subtlety like that, the woman was wasted as a soldier. Faced with a barred door, she was trying to pick the lock with a battering ram.

Mazana surprised the priestess by answering. “Yesterday. The stone-skins arrived shortly before your agents did.”

Avallon regained his poise. “Your shaman pointed the Chameleons to them because he foresaw they would need help. But help against whom?”

“The stone-skins, I presume. And before you ask, no, Jambar wasn't able to tell me whether your people succeeded in their mission.”

“What of the Chameleons and the task you gave them? I don't suppose your shaman was any more forthcoming about the success of
their
mission either.”

“I don't suppose so.”

Lindin Tar scowled, but this once, Romany knew, Mazana was not dissembling. Several days ago, the priestess had overheard along her web a conversation between the emira and Jambar on this very subject. The shaman's lack of precision then had been met by Mazana with the same degree of skepticism now being shown by the Erin Elalese.

Avallon gulped down another mouthful of wine. Romany realized her gaze was following his hand each time he raised his glass. “Well,” he said, after a pause, “we'll find out what happened soon enough when your people or mine report.”

“Or when the stone-skin fleet arrives at your shore,” Mazana said.

“Or yours. The Rubyholt Isles shield Erin Elal more than they do the Sabian League, yes. But free passage through the Isles would help the stone-skins strike at Dian or Natilly, too. Or Gilgamar, for that matter. Three important cities to the League, you must see that.”