Scimitar War (16 page)

“Gods, Feldrin, look at the
graves
,” Cynthia whispered. A lengthy row of headstones stretched along the cliff face where only a month ago tidy huts had housed the natives. Cynthia didn’t count the stones, but there must have been scores of them, each one a knife in her gut. Her vision blurred, and she choked back tears.

“Steady, lass,” Feldrin said, his hand on her arm. “I know what yer thinkin’, and yer wrong. It’s not yer fault; you didn’t kill ‘em, those bloody-handed pirates did.”

His stolid firmness and determination helped her control her tears, but the crushing guilt of all the deaths did not ease. These were
her
people, her responsibility, and she had failed them. She tore her eyes from the condemning headstones and looked to the pier. Blue-uniformed soldiers stood in tight formation at the beach end, blocking a crowd of natives—
Are those all the survivors?
—from venturing closer. Farther along the dock stood a smaller contingent of soldiers, two with the golden braids of senior officers on their collars. While the younger paced and ordered the deployment of marines, the elder one, a sturdy man with a dour face and narrowed eyes, watched as
Flothrindel
approached; this, obviously, was the admiral. Count Norris and Tim stood nearby, as well as two other civilians.

“Dock at the pier, if you please, Captain Brelak,” an officer from one of the launches ordered.

“At least they’re polite,” Feldrin muttered. “Take the tiller, love, and I’ll get the sails.”

Cynthia steered the little smack toward the pier while Feldrin clomped around the foredeck, furling and lashing the jib, and securing two hemp bumpers over the port rail. As they came alongside the pier, she slacked the main sheet, and the boat slowed enough for Feldrin to catch and tie off dock lines thrown down by two sailors. On the pier, a troop of marine archers stood, their eyes grim and arrows nocked and pointed at
Flothrindel
. The launches held station a short distance away, their archers also at the ready. Cynthia remained seated while a marine lowered a ladder and stood by it at attention.

On the beach, the natives began to cheer and chant, “Shambata Daroo!” The admiral shot them a furious glance. Feldrin lowered the mainsail and started to lash it down in proper seamanlike fashion, but a curt shout from the pier brought him up short.

“Belay that nonsense!” The younger officer waved his troops forward. “Lieutenant, impound that vessel and secure the prisoners!”

“Prisoners?” Feldrin cocked one dark eyebrow, then looked to Cynthia. “Didn’t know we were prisoners quite yet, did you, Cyn? I thought we came here willingly.”

Cynthia would have laughed at his cocky comment if she hadn’t known it was a façade to hide his nervousness. In fact, the air was so thick with tension on both sides that it hung heavier than the cloying humidity. It only increased when a slim young lieutenant and a squad of marines boarded the smack. One of the marines stepped down into the cockpit and wrapped a meaty hand around her arm, pulling her to her feet. Cynthia’s ire rose and she saw Feldrin tense. She took a deep, calming breath; they didn’t want to do anything that would get them shot full of arrows before they could present their case.

“Admiral!” she said, though her eyes were fixed upon the marine who had her by the arm. “My husband and I are offering no resistance and are willing to cooperate fully with you, but I insist that your men treat us with proper respect.” She dropped her eyes to the hand on her arm, then looked up to the officer.

“You are both under arrest by order of Emperor Tynean Tsing,” the admiral declared with a glare. “Your cooperation is not necessary. Captain Donnely,” he said to the younger officer, “order your lieutenant to carry out his orders.”

The captain barked the command, and the lieutenant drew his cutlass and reached toward Cynthia. “Come along. We’ll take the child.”

“You don’t wanna be—”

Before Feldrin could finish his warning, anger surged through Cynthia like a rogue wave, washing away her anxiety and replacing it with a mother’s sense of protectiveness so strong that she was scarcely aware of what she was doing. A sudden breeze swirled around the smack, ruffling everyone’s hair and clothing. The surface of the water trembled, as if the sea shivered in anticipation. The hull of the frigate docked on the other side of the pier groaned, and
Flothrindel
quivered under her feet like a plucked harp string. The soldiers glanced about nervously, and the grip of the marine holding her arm slacked a bit. The lieutenant froze with his hand poised to take her other arm.

“Touch my baby,” she said through gritted teeth as her heart pounded in her ears, “and it will be the last living thing you ever touch.”

“Admiral,” Feldrin said from the midst of three tense marines, all of whom he towered over by at least half a head, “we’ve just gone through nine shades of the hells to get our son back, and Cynthia’s still feelin’ a mite tense. She’s not likely to back down from a fight if you try to take him. We’re comin’ here peacefully, and we’re just askin’ that the three of us stay together and are treated well. We’re perfectly willin’ to go to Tsing and answer whatever charges the emperor has.” He resumed folding the mainsail, ignoring the glowering marines. “Yer choice Admiral; but if you push us, we’ll just leave, and you’ll have to explain how you lost three
more
ships
and
the seamage you were sent here to fetch.”

The admiral’s face flushed deep red, and Cynthia tensed. The admiral’s next words would mean either violence or peace. Feldrin had presented their case and offered an easy out. Their ploy hinged on whether Tipos had read this man correctly.

“Very well,” Joslan said finally, and Cynthia felt the tension among the marines ease. “I agree to those terms. You will stay together—in restraint, of course—but you have my assurance that you will be treated well. Will that suffice?”

“It will.”

“Very good. Captain Donnely, order your men to stand down. Lieutenant, you will sheathe your sword and
assist
Mistress Flaxal and her husband onto the pier.”

“Aye, sir!” both men said.

The marine holding Cynthia’s arm released her and muttered, “Sorry, ma’am,” as the color returned to his face. She, in turn, nodded, and released her hold on the sea.

“This way, if you please, Mistress Flaxal.” The lieutenant gestured to the ladder without reaching to touch her.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” She climbed up with little difficulty despite Kloe’s weight, with Feldrin right behind. On the pier, however, she received one more surprise.

Tim rushed to her, crying, “Mistress! You’re back!” and flung his arms around her in a fierce embrace, though careful to avoid squashing the baby. He’d never shown such open affection toward her before, but the explanation came as he pressed close to her ear and whispered, “Don’t tell them anything about Miss Cammy!” As he pulled back she looked into his eyes and understood; they knew about Camilla, and they wanted to keep it secret.

“Yes, Tim, I’m back…
we’re
back, and we’re fine.”

“Mistress Flaxal, Captain Brelak,” the admiral said as he motioned them down the pier, “this way, please. I have several…questions for you.”

Feldrin put his arm around her as a cordon of marines formed up to escort them up the dock. There was, indeed, much to discuss.

≈

Huffington took station behind the count’s chair, hands clasped behind his back as the others took their seats at the table and servants bustled about serving blackbrew and biscuits. He fingered the device hidden beneath his sleeve, one of his “gifts” from the emperor, loaded with an envenomed dart. He’d donned it when Tim reported who was aboard
Flothrindel
, and had nearly used it only moments before. For some reason he had hesitated—unusual for him—but now he was glad he had done so. The seamage seemed forthright and fearless for such a young woman, even with a newborn babe on her lap.

“My first question,” the admiral began, his tone firm but measured, “is how you came into possession of that smack. It and several people, two of my marines among them, went missing only five days ago, and the evidence suggests magic—sea magic, to be precise—was used to aid the culprits.”

“I assure you, Admiral, I had no hand in
Flothrindel’s
theft,” Cynthia said. Huffington tapped Count Norris surreptitiously on the back; they could not let this line of questioning go too far. “We stopped at Vulture Isle, where we—”

“Is Camilla safe?” Norris blurted, right on cue. “Those bloody-handed cannibals took her! Please tell me she escaped!”

“If you
please
, Count Norris!” Joslan snapped with a glare. “I will ask the questions here! If you wish to remain at this table, you will remain silent!”

Norris grumbled a halfhearted apology. Thankfully, Huffington noted, everyone’s attention was on the count and the admiral, which kept them from noticing the flash of consternation on the seamage’s features.

“I’m…sorry, Count Norris, but we don’t know Camilla’s fate.” She turned back to the admiral. “Tipos and Paska managed to escape from the cannibals with the surviving captives and took them to Vulture Isle, but Camilla…stayed behind. We met them there, and learned of what had happened here. It seemed…prudent for Feldrin and me to bring
Flothrindel
back with us.”

“To avoid the loss of your schooners, you mean,” the admiral accused.

“Schooner, Admiral. There is only one.
Peggy’s Dream
was lost at Akrotia, along with a number of her crew.
Orin’s Pride
was damaged, but we limped back. She’s having some minor repairs done at Vulture Isle.”

“And the pyromage? What happened to him?”

“We don’t exactly know Edan’s fate.” The seamage took a sip of her blackbrew and gave a brief but detailed account of the expedition to the floating city of Akrotia—the rogue mer plot to steal her baby in order to lure her there, where they planned to reactivate the city’s magic with her own. She glanced at Count Norris as she related the surprise appearance of the lone pirate who murdered the half-elf shipwright, Ghelfan, and tried to kill her. “They must have followed us aboard
Manta
; it was sighted when we were fleeing, but sank before they could escape. I was unconscious, but Feldrin saw Edan struggling near the chamber. He, at least, must have gone inside it, because somehow Akrotia was activated by Edan’s magic.”

“Activated? What do you mean by that?”

“She means the whole bloody city’s on fire,” Feldrin put in. “We barely got out alive.”

“From what Ghelfan had told us—” Cyntha choked on her words as she mentioned her slain friend, “when the original seamage entered the crystal chamber, he became a part of the city. His magic brought it to life. The…bonding is permanent, until the mage’s death, so I don’t think Edan is coming back.”

Huffington heaved a silent breath of relief; his duty to the emperor was done. The seamage was cooperating fully and had agreed to return to Tsing, and the pyromage was, if not dead, at least incapacitated. He looked to Master Upton, but the man’s attention was on the admiral.

“This floating city; exactly where is it now?”

“I can give you the coordinates from memory,” Captain Brelak said. “These drakes you got make damn good time under sweeps. They wouldn’t have any trouble gettin’ down there and back in much more’n a fortnight. But if you send a ship, tell yer captain not to get too close. That city was hotter than the hub of the Nine Hells.”

“Thank you, Captain Brelak. I would appreciate those coordinates.” The admiral straightened his waistcoat and shifted in his seat to face the captain directly. “However, securing the rest of the Shattered Isles takes precedence over seeking out a burning city in waters of no consequence to the empire.”

“I respectfully disagree, Admiral,” Upton interjected. Huffington suppressed a smile at the sudden irritation on the admiral’s face. “I believe that this floating city warrants investigation.”

“Indeed,” the admiral countered with his usual vehemence, “
after
we secure the Shattered Isles.”

“Which brings up another point, Admiral,” the seamage said. “The natives here on Plume Isle, as well as their tribe on Vulture Isle, could be a huge asset to you if you’d let them help. They’re not your enemies, and they know every reef, cut and shoal in the islands, not to mention where the cannibals’ villages are and how to avoid them.”

“I will consider it, Mistress Flaxal,” the admiral said. “But I would like to ask you about the mer. You say that they were duped into war, but now want peace. I find this difficult to fathom.”

“The mer
are
difficult to understand, Admiral, even for me, and I’ve been dealing closely with them for over two years.” The seamage shook her head regretfully. “If I had understood them better, this entire situation might have been avoided.”

“So, having discovered this deception, you still believe that their leader wants peace?” Upton’s tone was as skeptical as the admiral’s.

“Trident Holder Broadtail does. But you have to understand one thing about the mer that I
do
know: they
always
act in their own self-interest. Individuals may act out of altruism or love, but as a community, they do what’s best for the school.”

“Then we will use all caution in dealing with them,” the admiral said, though he looked dubious. “I don’t suppose you would give us the location of their city…”

“No, Admiral, I won’t.” Cynthia’s voice steeled and she stared straight at the admiral, discomforting the officer, and Huffington suppressed another smile. “Perhaps if the emperor commands me, I will, but I fear that if I do, it’ll only lead to war.”

“I agree with Mistress Flaxal Brelak,” Norris said, straightening in his chair as if he suddenly recalled his station as the emperor’s representative. He had been sitting restlessly, letting the admiral and seamage lead the conversation. “There are two threats to your position here, Admiral. The first is the cannibal tribe, and we are fortunate enough to know the location of their largest village. The second is the pirate ship that assaulted this very keep. The corsair’s name was
Cutthroat
, and she was last moored in the mangroves on the northwest of Middle Cay. I daresay they have probably long since gone, but it should be investigated.”