Red Tide (53 page)

Galantas signaled his companions to wait outside. Tattoo flashed Amerel his best “behave yourself” look before making for the door. The water-mage followed and closed the door behind.

“My name is Cayda,” Amerel said, surprising herself by choosing her sister's name. “Mazana Creed sent me.”

“Interesting time for a social call.”

“Hardly social. She has unfinished business with the stone-skins.”

“Because of Dragon Day?”

Amerel nodded.

“I'd have thought she would want to thank them for what happened. She's done rather well from it personally.”

“Indeed? Are
you
feeling grateful just now?”

Galantas turned to look out of the window, and the moonlight played across his face like silver fire. When he next spoke, his voice seemed to come from a great distance. “Curious,” he said. “The stone-skins only arrived in Bezzle yesterday, yet here you are already. Word travels fast, it seems, and you faster still.”

“Have you heard of Jambar Simanis?”

“Imerle's shaman.”

“And now Mazana's. He foresaw the stone-skins' coming.”

“He foresaw the stone-skins' coming,” Galantas repeated. “Yet Mazana didn't think to warn us.”

“Would you have done so, if the roles had been reversed?”

Galantas smiled without humor. “Relations between our peoples have been somewhat … erratic, it is true. As I heard it, the Storm Lords are still a bit prickly after my father tried to disrupt Dragon Day eight years ago. As I heard it, they're looking for ways to pay us back. And what better way to do that than by assassinating the stone-skin commander and putting the blame on the Isles.”

Amerel waved a hand as if his insinuation was beneath her. “The commander was shot inside your father's fortress, right?”

He nodded.

“Big walls on all sides, only one way in and out. I assume you thought to search the compound after. Find any assassins, did you?” She paused. “If I were you, I'd look for the killer a little closer to home. I'd wonder if, by killing your father, the stone-skins haven't already avenged their commander's death.”

Galantas did not reply, but Amerel could see from his look that his suspicions already lay with Dresk. No need for a touch of the Will to steer him further in that direction.

“You still haven't told me why you're here,” he said.

“I came to destroy the stone-skin fleet.”

There was a hunger in his eyes. “How?”

Amerel did not respond immediately. Better to leave him guessing for a while, let the anticipation build. She settled back and stretched out her legs. The ship rocked gently on the swell. “I believe congratulations are in order. For your raid on the harbor. It was your raid, wasn't it?”

Galantas inclined his head.

“As commander, you take the credit for its success. But by the same token, you take the blame for its failure.”

“Meaning?”

“Lots of different clans represented in your crew. I overheard some of them complaining that you were quick to flee the harbor when you'd secured your own spoils.”

Galantas's look suggested he knew who the culprits would be. “That
was
the plan, yes.”

“A plan, your opponents will say, that succeeded in recapturing only eight of the ships in port.”

“Doubtless those same opponents will argue that eight is less than zero.”

“Doubtless. But don't worry, I'm sure you'll talk them round. Reasonable men, are they?” Let him chew on that. “How much stronger do you think your hand would be if you were to consign the stone-skin fleet to the sea?”

Galantas's frown suggested impatience. “I'm listening.”

The shadows briefly gathered as someone crossed over the skylight. Amerel's gaze did not leave Galantas. “You will be familiar, I assume, with how the Storm Lords lure dragons to the gate on Dragon Day?” She proceeded to tell him what the Chameleons had told
her
about Mazana Creed's experiments with the dragon blood. “It seems the merest drop is enough to lure a dragon over dozens of leagues—lure it to something marked with blood, for example.”

“Like a ship.”

“Very good. My orders were to use darts tipped in blood to mark the stone-skins' ships. The hope was that they'd still be in Bezzle when the dragons came calling. Alas, Jambar Simanis didn't foresee that their fleet would pull out so soon.”

“Were you able to mark any ships?”

“No,” Amerel said. A lie, obviously, but Galantas might be less willing to take the risks she wanted him to if he thought the job was already half done.

“And you need my help getting close to the fleet? It's too late for that. The stone-skins started north quarter of a bell ago.”

Amerel blinked.
North?
Had she heard that right? Erin Elal was to the west of here, but since she was claiming to hail from the Storm Isles, it wouldn't do for her to appear pleased at the news. She looked at the chart to give herself time to think. What was there to the north that might draw the stone-skins' eye? The Confederacy cities? No, they were on the wrong side of the Shield to be of strategic value. Dian and Natilly? Or Gilgamar? What did they have to do with Erin Elal?

Assuming Erin Elal remained the Augerans' target.

She was missing something.

The Guardian looked back at Galantas. What now? Make her excuses, and withdraw to the quarterdeck to think things through? No, if she wanted to destroy the stone-skin fleet, she had to act now. Besides, did it really matter what the Augerans' first destination was? Who was to say they wouldn't change course for Erin Elal once they were clear of the Isles? Or sail there after they'd finished their business in the north?

“Can you get ahead of their fleet?” she asked.

“Why?”

“Because there are other ways to mark a ship than with a dart and a blowpipe. The Isles are full of narrow waterways, right? If the stone-skins were sailing along one, and we could reach the end of it before they did, we could pour the dragon blood in the sea. It would mark their ships' hulls as they passed through.”

Galantas fingered the band of sharks' teeth around his neck. There was something about his gaze that reminded Amerel of that Arapian sacristen she'd clashed with seven years ago. The one with the rash and the weepy eyes. The one who had had her poisoned.

“It might work,” he said. “But only some of the blood is going to mark the fleet. Most of it will stay in the sea. When the dragons come, they'll probably head first for the place where the blood is strongest—for the waterway where we pour the blood, rather than for the stone-skin ships.”

Amerel had had this same discussion with Karmel over tipping the blood in Bezzle's harbor. This was different, though. “You're assuming the dragons are coming from the south. But what if they came from the north instead? What would the creatures be drawn to first? The far-off place where the blood was poured? Or the stone-skin ships sailing invitingly toward them?”

Galantas's eyes gleamed. “You mean to release the dragons from the Sabian Sea.”

“Yes.” She'd discussed the idea with Mokinda earlier. “The moment the blood is poured into the water here, the dragons in the Sabian Sea will sense it. By the time we raise the Dragon Gate, they should be queuing up to pass beneath.”

“If the dragons are going to intercept the fleet, you'll have to get to the gate before the stone-skins arrive at wherever it is they're heading. How are you going to do that?”

“That's where my Untarian companion comes in. His name is Mokinda Char. Perhaps you've heard of him.”

“Mokinda Char,” Galantas said. “The Storm Lord.”

Amerel nodded.

“Your companion is a Storm Lord … and yet you're the one down here doing the talking.”

“It is because I'm not a Storm Lord that I am doing the talking. Mazana Creed trusts Mokinda as much as she would any rival. Now, you never answered my question. Can you get us in front of the stone-skin fleet?”

Galantas was silent, his face as empty as a blank page, and about as difficult to read. Did he believe her story? Had he spotted some flaw she had overlooked? She'd heard it said that when the mood took him, he could fire his kinsmen's blood with the power of his rhetoric. Yet she suspected the man sitting before her now was the real Galantas: cold, shrewd, calculating.

Not everyone could have her warm and generous nature, though.

Finally he looked at the chart. “It isn't as simple as a flat race. The stone-skins have Rubyholt guides now, so they're not going to lose their way. Our only chance of getting ahead of them would be at the Outer Rim.” He rose and leaned over the table to point at the chart. “Assuming they don't change course, their best routes through the Rim will be here, here, and here. To find out which path they take, we'd have to be close behind. And then there'd be no way to get round and reach the end of the passage before they do.”

Amerel peered at the chart, noticing for the first time the symbols scattered across it—symbols that doubtless denoted which of the waterways were navigable and which were not. “Are they more likely to take any of these three passages than the others?”

“At this time of year, no.”

She pointed to a fourth waterway snaking between two of the three. “What about this—”

“Impassable,” Galantas cut in.

“Even for a ship with a Storm Lord?”

“Even then.” A look came over his face. “Except…”

“Yes?”

He hesitated, then stabbed his finger at an island with the symbol of a cross through a circle on it. “Liar's Crossing.”

Amerel waited for him to explain.

“The island has a saddle of land running east to west, about a hundred paces wide. Liar's Crossing, we call it. No single water-mage can create a wave big enough to carry a ship over. But if your Storm Lord and my mage were to join forces—”

“We could use the crossing as a shortcut once we know which route the stone-skins are taking,” Amerel finished.

Galantas nodded.

“Do I want to know why it's called Liar's Crossing?”

“Because everyone who's ever claimed to use it before is a liar.”

Great. “Someone must have crossed it before, though?”

“Someone probably has.”

“And that's the only option we've got?”

Another nod. Galantas was actually smiling at the prospect, but a man such as he would no doubt relish a chance to increase his fame.

Time to hit him with the last part of her plan. “Of course,” Amerel said, looking through the window at the other Rubyholt vessels in the bay, “your other ships won't be able to follow us over the crossing after we take it.”

Galantas sat back down. “Other ships? Is the dragon blood so heavy that it needs a whole fleet to carry it?”

“No. But you'll want those ships with you when you chase the stone-skins north.”

Silence. No smiles this time.

“Think about it,” Amerel said. “Let's say we mark the stone-skin ships with dragon blood. Let's say the dragons then destroy them. Who's going to believe you when you claim the credit? Who's going to believe it happened at all? You need witnesses—the more the better. And witnesses from other clans, ideally. Also, after we've crossed Liar's Crossing, Mokinda has to swim to the Dragon Gate to get it raised. He assures me he can swim faster than any ship can sail, but not by much. It'll take time for the gate to be raised, then for the dragons to pass beneath it and hunt down the fleet. Time
you
need to buy us.”

“By harrying the stone-skins?”

Amerel nodded. “They can't ignore eight ships at their back.”

“And when they turn on us?”

“You turn as well.”

“Ah, thank the Sender. For a moment there I thought you wanted me to take on eighteen ships with eight. And with skeleton crews besides.”

“I certainly hope it won't come to that. After all, I'll still be onboard with you at that time.”

Galantas gave her a look. “Yes, you will.” Then, “If we're not going to fight the stone-skins, how long can we hope to delay them?”

“Quarter of a bell? Half? Every heartbeat could be decisive.”

Galantas leaned back in his chair. His expression was hidden in shadow. He tested one of the shark teeth round his neck against a thumb as if he thought it might need sharpening. “You realize,” he said at last, “by destroying the stone-skin fleet, I'll probably save a Sabian city. Gilgamar, most likely.”

“And in
not
destroying it, you'd pass up the chance for revenge on the enemy. How would that go down with your kinsmen?” Time to give him another touch of the Will. “Who's the greater threat to the Isles, the stone-skins or the emira? When did the Storm Lords last attack a Rubyholt city?”

“Thirty-one years ago,” Galantas said without hesitation. “Or did you want months and days as well? My people have long memories.”

“As do mine,” Amerel said. “But I'm sure if you had to, you could find a way to spin our cooperation here to your advantage.” Like the thought hadn't already occurred to him. She softened her voice. “You think these stone-skins will be the last you see of their kind? You think the next group will treat you better?”

“Certainly not. Especially if they find out I destroyed their fleet.”

“You're right. They'd respect you more if you did nothing.”

Galantas did not reply. His half smile was back though, and Amerel could well guess the reason. Throughout their most recent exchange, there'd been no animation to his words, no conviction. As if he'd asked the questions of Amerel solely to see how she answered. As if he'd merely been rehearsing arguments he expected to have again with his kinsmen. He knew whatever choice he made today would be denounced by his opponents. He was testing how strong the winds of reason blew in either direction, and he could bend either way, as expedience required.