The Diamond Throne (39 page)

‘Someday perhaps.’

‘Flute,’ Sephrenia said quite firmly, ‘come down from there’

Sparhawk looked up. The little girl was halfway up a rope ladder stretching from the rail to the yardarm. She pouted just a bit, then did as she was told. ‘You always know exactly where she is, don’t you?’ he asked Sephrenia.

‘Always,’ she replied.

The transfer from one ship to the other took place in mid-river some distance downstream from Lycien’s wharves and was concealed by a great deal of activity on both ships. Captain Sorgi quickly bustled his passengers belowdecks to get them out of sight, and then the two ships proceeded sedately downriver, bobbing side by side like two matrons returning home from church.

‘We’re passing the wharves of Madel,’ Sorgi called down the companionway to them some short time later. ‘Keep your face out of sight, Master Cluff, or I may have a deck full of your betrothed’s cousins on my hands.’

‘This is
really
making me curious, Sparhawk,’ Sephrenia said. ‘Couldn’t you give me just the tiniest clue?’

‘I made up a story,’ he shrugged. ‘It was lurid enough to seize the attention of a group of sailors.’

‘Sparhawk’s always been very good at making up stories,’ Kurik observed. ‘He used to lie himself in and
out of trouble regularly when he was a novice.’ The grizzled squire was seated on a bunk with the drowsing Flute nestled in his lap. ‘You know,’ he said quietly, ‘I never had a daughter. They smell better than little boys, don’t they?’

Sephrenia burst out laughing. ‘Don’t tell Aslade,’ she cautioned. ‘She may decide to try for one.’

Kurik rolled his eyes upward in dismay. ‘Not again,’ he said. ‘I don’t mind babies around the house, but I couldn’t bear the morning sickness again.’

About an hour later, Sorgi came down the companionway. ‘We’re clearing the mouth of the estuary now,’ he reported, ‘and there’s not a single vessel to the rear. I’d say that you’ve made good your escape, Master Cluff.’

‘Thank God,’ Sparhawk replied fervently.

Tell me, my friend,’ Sorgi said thoughtfully, ‘is the lady really as ugly as you say?’

‘Captain Sorgi, you wouldn’t believe how ugly.’

‘Maybe you’re a bit too delicate, Master Cluff. The sea’s getting colder, my ship’s getting old and tired, and the winter storms are making my bones ache. I could stand a fair amount of ugliness if the lady’s estate happened to be as large as you say. I might even consider returning some of your passage money in exchange for a letter of introduction. Maybe you overlooked some of her good qualities.’

‘We could talk about that, I suppose,’ Sparhawk conceded.

‘I need to go topside,’ Sorgi said. ‘We’re far enough past the city that it’s safe for you and your friends to come on deck now.’ He turned and went back up the companionway.

‘I think I can save you all the trouble of telling me that long story you mentioned earlier,’ Sephrenia told Sparhawk. ‘You didn’t actually use that tired old fable about the ugly heiress, did you?’

He shrugged. ‘As Vanion says, the old ones are the best.’

‘Oh, Sparhawk, I’m disappointed in you. How are you going to avoid giving that poor captain the imaginary lady’s name?’

‘I’ll think of something. Why don’t we go up on deck before the sun sets?’

Kurik spoke in a whisper. ‘I think the child’s asleep,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to wake her. You two go on ahead.’

Sparhawk nodded and led Sephrenia out of the cramped cabin.

‘I always forget how gentle he is,’ Sephrenia said softly.

Sparhawk nodded. ‘He’s the best and kindest man I know,’ he said simply. ‘If it weren’t for class distinctions, he’d have made an almost perfect knight.’

‘Is class really all that important?’

‘Not to me it isn’t, but I didn’t make the rules.’

They emerged on deck in the slanting, late-afternoon sunlight. The breeze blowing offshore was brisk, catching the tops of the waves and turning them into sun-splashed froth. Captain Mabin’s vessel, bound for Jiroch, was heeling over in that breeze on a course almost due west through the broad channel of the Arcian Strait. Her sails bellied out, snowy white in the afternoon sun, and she ran before the wind like a skimming sea bird.

‘How far do you make it to Cippria, Captain Sorgi?’ Sparhawk asked as he and Sephrenia stepped up onto the quarterdeck.

‘A hundred and fifty leagues, Master Cluff,’ Sorgi replied. ‘Three days, if this wind holds.’

‘That’s good time, isn’t it?’

Sorgi grunted. ‘We could make better if this poor old tub didn’t leak so much.’

‘Sparhawk!’ Sephrenia gasped, taking him urgently by the arm.

‘What is it?’ He looked at her in concern. Her face had gone deathly pale.

‘Look!’ She pointed.

Some distance from where Captain Mabin’s graceful ship was running through the Arcian Strait, a single, densely black cloud had appeared in an otherwise unblemished sky It seemed somehow to be moving against the wind, growing larger and more ominously black by the moment. Then it began to swirl, ponderously at first, but then faster and faster. As it spun, a long, dark finger twitched and jerked down from its centre, reaching down and down until its inky tip touched the roiling surface of the Strait. Tons of water were suddenly drawn up into the swirling maw as the vast funnel moved erratically across the heaving sea.

‘Waterspout!’ the lookout shouted down from the mast. The sailors rushed to the rail to gape in horror at the swirling spout.

Inexorably the vast thing bore down on Mabin’s helpless ship, and then the vessel, which suddenly appeared very tiny, vanished in the seething funnel. Chunks and pieces of her timbers spun out of the great waterspout hundreds of feet in the air to settle with agonizing slowness to the surface again. A single piece of sail fluttered down like a stricken white bird.

Then, as suddenly as they had come, the black cloud and its deadly waterspout were gone.

So was Mabin’s ship.

The surface of the sea was littered with debris, and a vast cloud of white gulls appeared, swooping and diving over the wreckage as if to mark the vessel’s passing.

Captain Sorgi combed the wreckage-strewn water where Mabin’s ship had gone down until after dark, but he found no survivors. Then, sadly, he turned his ship southeasterly again, setting his course towards Cippria.

Sephrenia sighed and turned from the rail. ‘Let’s go below, Sparhawk.’

He nodded and followed her down the companionway.

Kurik had lighted a single oil lamp, and it swung from a low overhead beam, filling the small, dark-panelled compartment with swaying shadows. Flute had awakened, and she sat at the bolted-down table in the centre of the cabin, looking suspiciously at the bowl sitting in front of her.

‘It’s just stew, little girl,’ Kurik was saying to her. ‘It won’t hurt you.’

She delicately dipped her fingers into the thick gravy and lifted out a dripping chunk of meat. She sniffed at it, then looked questioningly at the squire.

‘Salt pork,’ he told her.

She shuddered and dropped the chunk back into the gravy. Then she firmly pushed the bowl away.

‘Styrics don’t eat pork, Kurik,’ Sephrenia told him.

‘The ship’s cook said that this is what the sailors eat,’ he said defensively. He looked at Sparhawk. ‘Was the captain able to find any survivors from the other ship?’

Sparhawk shook his head. ‘That waterspout tore it all to pieces. The same thing probably happened to the crew.’

‘It’s lucky we weren’t on board that one.’

‘Very lucky,’ Sephrenia agreed. ‘Waterspouts are like tornadoes. They don’t appear out of completely clear skies, and they don’t move against the wind or change direction the way that one did. It was being consciously directed.’

‘Magic?’ Kurik said. ‘Is that really possible – to call up weather like that, I mean?’

‘I don’t think
I
could do it.’

‘Who did then?’

‘I don’t know for certain.’ Her eyes, however, showed a certain suspicion.

‘Let’s get it out into the open, Sephrenia,’ Sparhawk said. ‘You’ve guessed something, haven’t you?’

Her expression grew a bit more certain. ‘In the past few months we’ve had several encounters with a hooded figure in a Styric robe You saw it several times in Cimmura, and it tried to have us ambushed on our way to Borrata. Styrics seldom cover their faces. Have you ever noticed that?’

‘Yes, but I don’t quite make the connection.

‘This thing had to cover its face, Sparhawk. It’s not human.’

He stared at her. ‘Are you sure?’

‘I can’t be absolutely positive until I see its face, but the evidence is beginning to pile up, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Could Annias actually do something like that?’

‘It’s not Annias. He might know a little rudimentary magic, but he couldn’t begin to raise a thing like that. Only Azash could have done it. He’s the only one who dares to summon such beings. The Younger Gods will not, and even the other Elder Gods have forsworn the practice.’

‘Why would Azash want to kill Captain Mabin and his crew?’

‘The ship was destroyed because the creature thought that we were on board.’

‘That goes a little far, Sephrenia,’ Kurik objected sceptically ‘If it’s so powerful, why did it sink the wrong boat?’

‘The creatures of the underworld are not very sophisticated, Kurik,’ she replied. ‘Our simple ruse may have deceived it. Power and wisdom don’t always go hand in hand. Many of the greatest magicians of Styricum were as stupid as stumps.’

‘I don’t quite follow this,’ Sparhawk admitted with a puzzled frown. ‘What we’re doing has nothing to do with Zemoch. Why would Azash go out of his way to help Annias?’

‘It may be that there isn’t any connection. Azash always has his own motives. It’s quite possible that what he’s doing has nothing to do with Annias at all.’

‘It doesn’t wash, Sephrenia. If you’re right about this thing, it’s been working for Martel, and Martel works for Annias.’

‘Are you so sure that the creature is working for Martel and not the other way around? Azash can see the shadows of the future. One of us might be a danger to him. The seeming alliance between Martel and the creature may be no more than a matter of convenience.’

He began to gnaw worriedly at a fingernail. ‘That’s all I need,’ he said, ‘something else to worry about.’ Then a thought struck him. ‘Wait a minute. Do you remember what the ghost of Lakus said – that darkness was at the gate and that Ehlana was our only hope of light? Could Azash be that darkness?’

She nodded. ‘It’s possible.’

‘If that’s the case, then wouldn’t it be Ehlana he’s
trying to destroy? She’s totally protected by that crystal that encases her, but if something happens to us before we can find a way to heal her, she’ll die, too. Maybe that’s why Azash has joined forces with the primate.’

‘Aren’t you both stretching things a bit?’ Kurik asked. ‘You’re basing a great deal of speculation on a single incident.’

‘It doesn’t hurt to be ready for eventualities, Kurik,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘I hate surprises.’

The squire grunted and rose to his feet. ‘You two must be hungry,’ he said. ‘I’ll go down to the galley and get you some supper. We can talk some more while you’re eating.’

‘No pork,’ Sephrenia told him firmly.

‘Bread and cheese, then?’ he suggested. ‘And maybe some fruit?’

That would be fine, Kurik. You’d probably better bring enough for Flute as well. I know she’s not going to eat that stew.’

‘That’s all right,’ he said. ‘I’ll eat it for her. I don’t have the same kind of prejudices that you Styrics do.’

It was overcast when they reached the port city of Cippria three days later. The cloud cover was high and thin, and there was no trace of moisture in it. The city was low, with squat white buildings thickly walled to ward off the heat of the southern sun. The wharves jutting out into the harbour were constructed of stone, since Rendor was a kingdom largely devoid of trees.

Sparhawk and the others came up on deck, wearing hooded black robes, just as the sailors were mooring Captain Sorgi’s ship to one of the wharves. They went up the three steps to the quarterdeck to join the curly-haired seaman.

‘Get some fenders between our side and that wharf!’
Sorgi roared at the seamen who were snubbing off the mooring lines. He shook his head in disgust. ‘I have to tell them that every single time we dock,’ he muttered. ‘All they can think about when we make port is the nearest alehouse.’ He looked at Sparhawk. ‘Well, Master Cluff,’ he said. ‘Have you changed your mind?’

‘I’m afraid not, Captain,’ Sparhawk replied, setting down the bundle containing his spare clothing. ‘I’d like to oblige you, but the lady I mentioned seems to have all her hopes pinned on me. It’s for your own good, actually. If you show up at her house with an introduction from me, her cousins might decide to wring my location out of you. Being wrung is not my idea of a good time. Besides, I don’t want to take any chances.’

Sorgi grunted. Then he looked at them all curiously. ‘Where did you come by the Rendorish clothing?’

‘I did some bargaining in your forecastle yesterday.’ Sparhawk shrugged, plucking at the front of the hooded black robe he wore. ‘Some of your sailors like to be unobtrusive when they make port here in Rendor.’

‘How well I know,’ Sorgi said wryly. ‘I spent three days looking for the ship’s cook the last time I was in Jiroch.’ He looked at Sephrenia, who was also robed in black and wore a heavy veil across her face. ‘Where did you find anything to fit her?’ he asked. ‘None of my sailors are that small.’

‘She’s very adept with her needle.’ Sparhawk did not think it necessary to explain exactly how Sephrenia had changed the colour of her white robe.

Sorgi scratched at his curly hair. ‘I can’t for the life of me understand why most Rendors wear black,’ he said. ‘Don’t they know that it’s twice as hot?’

‘Maybe they haven’t realized that yet,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘Rendors are none too bright in the first place, and they’ve only been here for five thousand years.’

Sorgi laughed. ‘Maybe that’s it,’ he said. ‘Good fortune here in Cippria, Master Cluff,’ he said. If I happen to run across any cousins, I’ll tell them that I’ve never heard of you.’