Oracle

by David Dickie

  “You see any other survivors?” asked Grim.

  Alan shook his head. “Fortunately, the ship’s superstructure protected us from the black ship’s attack. I do not believe the crew fared as well.”

  “Fayyaad? The Holder?”

  Alan shook his head again. “Didn’t see them.” He gestured awkwardly at the rowboat he was clinging too. “We need to flip this over.”

  Grim nodded. ”Lug, you keep Alan afloat. I’ll try to flip it.”

  Lug spoke, a rare thing. “You take Alan. I am a stronger swimmer than you.”

  Grim was going to argue but realized that was true. Lug didn’t even seem to be breathing hard. “Good plan.” Grim pulled Alan away from the side of the rowboat. Alan didn’t say anything. That was also a rare thing.

  After rocking the rowboat back and forth, Lug managed to flip it right side up, but it was still full of water. Grim said, “Lug, take Alan. I’ll go in. Have to bail it out a bit before we all try to get in it, or it will flip again.”

  This time there was no argument. Grim slipped over the side of the rowboat, which was at the same level as the water. The light from the fires had all but vanished; he had to check the inside of the boat by feel. The good news was that he found a bailing bucket connected by a thin rope. The bad news was there were no sign of the oars. They must have torn free during the Venture’s demise. “I’ve got a bailing bucket. Give me a few minutes.”

  It was more like twenty, with Grim feeling his arms were going to fall off from the effort, and even then the boat was only half emptied of water. Grim was about to suggest swapping places with someone when Alan said “Sharks in the water.” He and Lug were over the side and in the half-drowned boat before Grim could blink, Grim sloshing quickly from spot to spot to counterbalance the boat as they climbed over the sides. Lug took over bailing. He was faster at it than Grim. If Lug’s arms grew tired, there was no sign of it.

  The sun was cresting over the horizon by then. They all took a few moments to collect their thoughts. Finally, Grim said “What was that ship? I’ve never heard of anything like it.”

  Alan seemed to have returned to his normal loquacious self. “One would surmise it was a new and powerful kind of vessel, inimical to Kethem’s interests, with an advanced array of magical weapons with unspecified but impressive destructive capabilities that are currently unmatched by others in the region.”

  Grim shook his head. “And it was just out here looking to sink a merchant? Why?”

  Alan looked thoughtful. “We do not know that was its intent. Perhaps it was after the Kethem warship. Perhaps the warship’s involvement was unanticipated, and sinking the Venture was an unintended side effect of the battle.”

  “But, again, why? And who? It wasn’t an Elvish vessel; it had sails. Pranan can’t field anything much larger than a frigate.”

  Alan nodded. “I am extrapolating a bit from little data, but the attack on the Kethem warship included a large number of standard but powerful offensive spells, the ones before…” He stopped, looking puzzled. “Before the blast tubes, I suppose we could call them, released their destruction on the Venture and the Wrath.”

  Grim frowned. “I couldn’t tell you how powerful the original spells were, but so what? It was the… the blast tubes that did the serious damage.”

  Alan nodded. “Yes, but the first set of spells was impressive enough that I have to conclude a large number of battle mages were involved. That, or a large number of artificer’s weapons, so many that I think it unlikely given it was not of Elvish origin. Given that much battle-magic, I doubt anyone outside of Kethem could field the number of enchanters required, and it makes no sense for the Kethem military to turn on its own. No, the only source of so many battle mages besides the elves would be…”

  “Ohulhug,” said Grim, finishing Alan’s statement. “The high orcs.” Alan nodded. Grim shook his head. “They have no ships larger than a raider. They’ve never demonstrated any kind of naval capability before.”

  Alan shrugged. “Things change.”

  Grim looked doubtful. “Not that fast. Going from raiders to something even Kethem can’t build in one leap?”

  Alan looked slightly offended. “I am merely speculating.”

  “I know, but it doesn’t feel right.” Grim looked around. The pieces of the Venture and the Wrath had been rapidly drifting away. Only small bits were still floating in the vicinity of the rowboat, certainly nothing large enough to use as a paddle. “Well, I think our options are down to drifting until someone picks us up, or we get blown to shore, wherever that is.”

  Alan and Lug looked at each other, then at Grim. For a moment, it looked like they were going to offer some other solution, but Alan finally nodded.

  Chapter Six

  Three hours had gone by. The sun was high enough that it was getting hot. Blue ocean stretched in every direction. Conversation had gone from minimal to none, either because everyone was trying to conserve their strength or they were all contemplating their chances of survival in a rowboat with no oars, no food, no water, and no land in sight.

  Alan suddenly sat up straighter. “Is that a mast on the horizon?” he said.

  Grim turned to look over his shoulder, then twisted his entire body around. “Indeed it is,” he said, excitement in his voice. “We need to do something to attract their attention.”

  “I have a firebolt spell. They might see that from a distance.”

  Grim looked at Lug. “Other suggestions? No?” He turned to Alan. “Sounds good. Do one now. They should have someone in the crow’s nest. Save the rest until we know whether they saw the first one or not.”

  Alan stared into the sky, took a few deep breaths and mumbled something under his breath, then raised his hand to the heavens. A sudden blast of flame shot from his outstretched fingers sixty feet into the sky. He looked back at Grim. “Is that sufficient?”

  “We’ll know in a few minutes,” said Grim, staring at the small speck of a sail on the horizon. He waited, barely daring to breathe, trying to decide if he was seeing what he wanted to see or if he could actually see more of the sail. A minute later, he was sure. The ship was heading in their direction. “Again, just to be sure.”

  There was another blast of flame, but Grim was sure the ship had seen them. Grim smiled for the first time since the Venture had been attacked. “Not too much of a wait. The gods of the dice are smiling on us.”

  It didn’t take long for the ship to get close enough to start making out its features.

  “It’s a Kethem light warship, a frigate,” said Alan.

  Grim could see that for himself, the large banner streaming from the top mast showing Kethem’s crossed sword and scythe, gold on blue. A bit of his excitement withered away. He frowned. “Another warship. Maybe looking for the Wrath?”

  “Perhaps,” said Alan. “I have insufficient information to reach any meaningful conclusion. However, that it is rescuing us is more salient than its reason for being in this particular location, in my opinion.”

  Grim felt a gnawing apprehension in his stomach. “Maybe.” They watched in silence as the ship approached. Sails were trimmed as the frigate came near and a handful of sailors in the faded blue coveralls of the Kethem Navy threw a rope, which uncoiled neatly and landed directly across the rowboat. Lug and Grim grabbed it, and the sailors pulled the rowboat up until it nestled alongside the larger ship. The deck of the frigate was more than ten feet off the water.

  A head peered over the side. “Any wounded?” the individual called down.

  “No,” replied Grim.

  The head nodded. “Lowering a ladder.” It was more a net than a ladder, with the strands far enough apart it was easy to get hands and feet into the gaps. The three of them climbed aboard. Grim was the last one out, and he let go of the rope that had pulled them in. The rowboat fell slowly astern of the frigate. No one seemed to care.

  When Grim reached the top, two sailors helped him over the side to stand between Alan a
nd Lug. A small group of men in the dusky green of the Kethem Guard were nearby. Grim noted they were all armed with swords. One also held a small wand that Grim suspected was an artificer’s weapon. To the side were two of the ship’s crew in light-blue uniforms. Both had epaulets on their shoulders, the first with two broad gold stripes, the second with one. The one with two stripes said, “Welcome to the Kethem light warship, Fith’s Hammer. I am Commander Druff. You are survivors from the Venture?”

  “We are, Commander,” said Alan.

  “We…” Druff said, but before he could continue, two other men walked up from behind him. They wore uniforms colored a muddy brown with round, metal pips on the collars and narrow hats with the emblem of a crossed oar and spyglass. Grim felt his stomach clench. Kethem Naval Intelligence. The gods of the dice were not smiling on him. Laughing at him seemed more accurate. He tried to relax. There was no reason to think they would know anything about the trouble he’d landed in with their comrades in Bythe.

  One of the men’s gaze locked on Grim, and his expression was colder than ice. Then he looked at Druff and said, “Commander, it’s my prerogative to question the prisoners.”

  Druff frowned. “Survivors. They are not—”

  “Survivors, then,” cut in the new man. He turned to the group. “I am Commander Salin. This is Lieutenant Bander.” The second man nodded. He closed his eyes and said something under his breath. Suddenly there was a visible aura around his body. Grim recognized it, a spell used by Truthsayers in Kethem that allowed them to verify for a court that when a person spoke, they believed what they were saying. Salin looked at Alan, picking up some subtle signal that Grim and Lug were not the ones in charge. “You are the leader of this group?”

  Alan blinked. “I’m a passenger from the Venture. There is no leader.”

  Bander, with the truthsaying spell, looked intently at Alan and said, “Lie.”

  Salin glanced at Bander, then looked back at Alan with a grimace. “A poor beginning. Let’s try again. What is your name?”

  Alan, looking confused, said, “Alan Galigon.” Salin glanced at Bander who shook his head no.

  Salin said a little more forcefully, “Your name. Your real name.”

  Alan shook his head. “I assure you, my name is Alan Galigon.”

  Bander said, “Lie.”

  Salin took a deep breath. “I don’t think you fully understand the situation. A Kethem warship has been sunk with all hands. You realize lack of cooperation under those circumstances is treason? Punishable by death?”

  Alan nodded. “I do.”

  Salin was about to say something when Bander harrumphed. Salin turned to him. “What?” he said.

  Bander said, “Lie.”

  Salin looked confused. “Yes, you already said.”

  Bander said “No, I mean he’s lying about understanding the ‘punishable by death’ thing.”

  Salin frowned. “I just told him. He’d have to be a simpleton not to understand it.” Salin turned back to Alan, looked at him for a moment, then turned to Grim. “And your name?”

  Grim was ready for that. He didn’t think these two had anything to do with his prior intersection with Kethem Naval Intelligence, but his name… that might be more common knowledge. “Bran Tarafle,” said Grim, an alias he used once in a while. He tried hard to convince himself that he was, in fact, Bran, which was true, more or less. Except Alan looked at him, startled at the false name. That was a tad subtler that holding up a flag with the words, “He’s lying!” on it, but not by much.

  Bander said nothing. Salin turned and said angrily, “So?”

  Bander said, “I don’t know. I am not getting a reading. I’ve seen anti-truthsaying spells before. That either gives you a false read or scrambles things so you can’t tell. Here… I’m getting nothing. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Salin looked at Grim, eyes wide. “How are you doing that?”

  Grim, baffled, said, “I have no idea.”

  Salin seemed to sense Grim’s confusion was real. He hesitated a moment, then turned back to Alan. “Let’s begin again. You are a survivor from the Venture?”

  “Yes,” said Alan.

  “Lie,” said Bander.

  Grim said, “He was. We were all on the Venture together. You just saw the rowboat from the Venture. How else do you think we got out here?”

  Salin closed his eyes for a moment, clearly getting his temper under control. He looked at Alan. “Tell me a lie. Any lie.”

  Alan thought for a second, then said, “I was not on the Venture.”

  “Lie,” said Bander.

  Salin looked between Alan and Bander. “That’s impossible. They are contradicting statements.”

  Bander said, “With all due respect Commander, truthsaying can be circumvented.”

  Salin growled “Yes, but people who do it try to make it appear like they are telling the truth, not that they are lying.”

  Bander shrugged. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Commander.”

  Salin looked like he was going to explode. Before he could say anything else, Commander Druff, spoke up and said, “Commander Salin, this is getting us nowhere. We still have men lost at sea. We need to continue the search for survivors. You can question the…” and he paused, “the individuals when we have finished our search.” He turned to the three of them. “Citizens, I would prefer not to have to lock you up. Many areas on the ship are sensitive. There are yellow markers indicating these areas. Please do not cross those lines. I will have a crew member see to your needs as best we can. This is a warship, not a merchant, and our accommodations are plain. The galley is open to you if you need food or drink.”

  Salin had turned red. “Druff, this is my mission. You wouldn’t even know the Wrath had gone down without my unit.”

  Druff nodded. “True. But this is the Captain’s ship, and I am his representative. On this ship we treat citizens with respect until there is a reason not to. Do we need to have a conversation with the Captain?”

  Salin was still flushed, but he paused for a moment. Then he said, “No. Not now, at least.” He looked over Grim and the rest of them. “We will continue this conversation another time.” Then he turned and left, with Bander following.

  Chapter Seven

  Grim felt a little better after getting food and water from the galley. He was talking quietly with Paj, a Kethem Guardsman, sitting out of the way of the sailors who always seemed to have some important task they were hurrying to complete. Paj was a hair short of six feet tall, with brown hair and brown eyes and a laid-back attitude that seemed out of place with his uniform and sword. He was from Kuseme, which Grim had visited just long enough to steal something that wasn’t quite valuable enough to have been worth the effort.

  Grim remembered enough to pretend he’d lived there for a while, and Paj, like most young soldiers, liked talking about his home, a farm outside of the city proper. After a while, Grim had steered the conversation back to the present and why the Fith’s Hammer had been in the area. “The intel boys put us on alert, picked up some magical disturbance big enough to register at a distance,” Paj explained. “Don’t like those folks too much, a little too holier-than-thou, if you know what I mean.”

  Grim nodded. “I do. Not my favorite bunch of people either.”

  Paj grinned and continued, “So we’re heading out after a couple of hours, takes some time to round up the crew, you understand. And then the comm mage, he says there’s news from command that they can’t contact Hediro’s Wrath, and that’s not good. There’s always a comm mage on duty on every ship, and they are in the middle of the ship, protected, so they can stream information to command up until the ship is captured or sinks. Don’t know I’ve ever heard of something happening so suddenly that the comm mage didn’t get off some kind of message.”

  Grim nodded again, although he didn’t know much about military communication channels or how enchanter communication spells worked. He thought back to the battle and
how the Wrath had just come apart at the end. Grim shivered. “Catastrophic is to weak a word for what happened to the Wrath. I’m not surprised they didn’t get a message off.”

  “Well, not good news no matter what the reason. So command relays the last known position of the Wrath, and we head for it. Only took a half hour, we have Storm Bull priests on board to give us wind. We start seeing flot… flot… flotasm, the sailors call it. Wreckage. Only it’s from two ships, not one, and then we find something with the Venture’s name on it, and everyone knows the Venture ‘cause it’s such big news. And then we find you. Still don’t know what is going on, although I assume it has something to do with this new—” And Paj stopped suddenly.