As Randmuir had promised King Barthel, he sailed the Malbraid up upon Emperor Ulrik’s Baretam in the dead of night with plans to attack at dawn. Grayson wished he might warn the emperor that the pirate was coming, but he was still too afraid to pop between ships, worried he’d end up in the ocean and drown. He did not want to be part of the boarding party, but when Meelo grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and shoved him out into the open, and Satu handed him a tarnished bronze sword, he didn’t know how to argue.
The sword felt heavy and long in his hand, despite all his practice. He found Danno in the crowd, and the two compared weapons and found them nearly identical.
In the increasing light of dawn, he saw the Baretam for the first time in months. The sight of the gilded trim and red paint brought back happy memories of having survived the Five Woes with Jhorn, Onika, and Sir Kalenek. A morning fog hid parts of the ship from view. Its sails had been furled for the night, and her naked shrouds looked like scaffolds rising out of The Gray. Lights shone brightly from the windows and lanterns on deck.
By this time nearly the entire crew of the Malbraid had gathered on the main deck, dressed and armed for battle. Grayson stood at the back of the mob between Satu and Danno with the rest of Meelo’s watch. At least they weren’t leading the raid.
“Once you board her, work your way toward the stern and the imperial cabin,” Meelo told his men. “Let the others worry about taking the ship. Our goal is to find the emperor and his brother. We want them alive.”
The Malbraid came apace with the Baretam’s port side. At the front of the line, grapples were thrown. Hooks dragged across the deck of the emperor’s ship, caught on the railing. The Malbraid pulled in tight and jolted as she ground against the freeboard of the Baretam. Randmuir’s pirates swarmed over the sides. Someone lowered a gangplank, and more pirates flooded across.
“Close quarters, men!” Randmuir yelled as he charged along the deck, sword raised. Shouts of surprise gave way to screams and yells as he and his men slashed and stabbed their blades at anything that moved.
Grayson had almost reached the gangplank.
“Here we go,” Meelo yelled. “Look alive!”
Scrambling forward and yelling like madpersons, the mob swarmed from one ship to the other, a solid mass of bodies. As Grayson put both feet aboard the Baretam, a voice yelled in alarm from the quarterdeck. A bell began to clang. Up ahead the clash of bronze and cries of pain rose above the trampling bootsteps.
“At arms!” came a cry from an Igote captain.
As the two groups clashed, Grayson hoped Emperor Ulrik and his family had found some place to hide.
Gozan
Gozan heard commotion from above, but by the time he made it up to the main deck to investigate, the fighting was over. Dead Igote guards lay in bloody puddles on the deck beside the occasional man clad in black.
Pirates.
An authoritative voice barked orders at the raiders, who scrambled up the masts or began picking up dead Igote. Bodies splashed overboard. Sails were quickly set.
All this would have been an intriguing turn of events if not for the number of shadir present. The Veil swarmed with color, though Gozan recognized not one creature. A slight slipped past him, and he snagged hold of it with his claws. It squealed like a pup whose tail had been trod upon.
“Who is your master?” Gozan demanded.
“Dendron,” he said.
Gozan released him, tingling with dread. Dendron’s swarm? Here? This did not bode well. Especially if Dendron’s humans had evenroot.
He flashed instantly to Jazlyn’s quarters. All was calm inside. They had no idea the ship had been attacked.
The ship has been attacked by pirates, Great Lady, he told Jazlyn. We must hide.
Jazlyn stood slowly, ear cocked toward the ceiling, but the sounds of battle had ended.
The door burst open. Jazlyn’s maidens screamed. Yet it was not pirates who entered unbidden, but Emperor Ulrik with one of his personal guards.
“Forgive me, lady. Pirates have taken the ship. I have a boat ready to launch from one of the master’s cabins in the lower deck. It’s not far from here, but we must hurry.”
“You destroyed all that I hold sacred when you cast the evenroot into the sea. I’d rather take my chances with the pirates,” Jazlyn said.
That is unwise, Great Lady, Gozan said at the same time as the emperor yelled, “They’re pirates!”
Rosârah Thallah pushed past the emperor and into the room. “Whoever trusts in her own mind is a fool, Your Highness. I suggest you come with us and quickly.”
Jazlyn raised her hand to the emperor. “A moment while I speak with my shadir.”
Ulrik rolled his eyes, rocking from foot to foot, eager, it seemed, to be on his way.
“With patience a ruler may be persuaded,” Thallah murmured to him.
Jazlyn walked deeper into the cabin. “What say you, Gozan?” she asked.
These pirates are escorted by an unfamiliar swarm. I asked one of the slights who his master was, and he said Dendron.
“Did you see Dendron?” Jazlyn asked.
I did not. But we are without enough evenroot. He could destroy us both.
“Your Eminence, we must go,” the guard said to Ulrik.
“What say you, lady? Are you coming or staying?”
“Where are you going, Emperor?” she asked.
“To the Gillsmore, my vice flagship.”
She nodded at Qoatch, and the eunuch fetched a satchel holding her last vial of evenroot from the cupboard.
“First sense I’ve seen out of her in a long while,” Rosârah Thallah said.
Ulrik and his great-aunt took off with the guard, moving aft down the lengthway. At the stairs they descended two levels, then followed a crossway until it ended at a door. The guard opened it, and Gozan saw the sea where the wall should be. There was no furniture inside. Only a small dinghy attached to lines that were threaded through a set of davits. The outer wall of the cabin consisted of two plank doors that had already been opened outward. Two men wound cranks that extended the davits out over the sea. Once the men had cranked them to their full extent, the Igote pushed the boat to the opening.
“It is ready, Your Eminence,” a soldier said.
“Rosârah Thallah, Ferro, and Queen Jazlyn first, if you please,” the young man said.
The Igote obeyed, seating the passengers per the emperor’s instructions. Soon the dinghy was filled with Jazlyn and her ladies, Qoatch, Rosârah Thallah, the emperor, his young brother, and a dozen staff and Igote. Two men remained behind to work the boat fall.
“Lower us,” the emperor told them, and the men set to work.
“What about the rest of my people?” Jazlyn asked.
“There are eight of you here,” Ulrik said. “I have saved forty percent of your people and left ninety-eight percent of mine behind. I have done the best I could for you, lady.”
Jazlyn turned her attention to Gozan. “Go back and see what these pirates do. And keep them from noticing our getaway.”
Gozan was not eager to return to Dendron’s swarm, but his curiosity got the best of him. As long as he took the appearance of a slight, no one should pay him much attention. He let his form disintegrate to vapor and swept back toward the Baretam. The pirates had led the passengers to the main deck, sorting the able-bodied men from the elderly, women, and children. Igote who continued to fight were being killed and thrown overboard. Gozan saw the boy Burk, who had traveled with them through Rurekau. He lay down his Igote blade and joined the pirates.
The boat fall at the stern was heavily guarded, but no one had thought to stand watch over the rails themselves. A second boat of Igote had been launched from the bow. Gozan saw no sign of Dendron or any mantics issuing orders to the swarms of shadir.
The leader of these raiders would likely be in the imperial cabin, so he passed through the wall and found he was right. A crowd of terrified servants huddled behind a grand dining ta
ble. Before it, a man with no lips held a sword to the throat of a servant. Three other servants lay dead at the man’s feet.
“Tell me where he is!” the lipless man yelled.
“The emperor has an escape plan for when his ship is attacked,” the servant said. “Only his private security guards know what it is. You may kill us all and still learn nothing.”
At this the lipless man snarled and sliced the man’s throat. Several women screamed.
“Bring me another,” the lipless man said.
“Enough!” An older man entered the imperial quarters. “He has either fled the ship or hidden himself somewhere. Meelo, take some others and man the crow’s nest. Look for longboats that might have recently launched. Joben, take a squad to look over the railings for anyone lowering themselves into the water. Satu, organize a full search of the ship. Check the lady’s hole in the stern, inside every mattress and trunk, and under every bed. If he has escaped, I will be very upset. Go!”
The men scattered.
Gozan followed the lipless Meelo to the lookout, doing what he could to slow the man by whispering taunts into his ear, telling him he should go back and argue with the leader, speak his mind.
Meelo growled, annoyed by Gozan’s influence, yet he kept his pace all the way to the mainmast.
“Get up there,” he said to a boy. “Be quick about it.”
The boy obeyed and turned out to be a swift climber. Gozan shot ahead of him and, from the crow’s nest, took note of the emperor’s dinghy. It had reached the Gillsmore and was circling around the stern. Good. By the time the crew set about hoisting the boat, it would be hidden from the pirate’s view.
The second dinghy that the Igote had launched from the bow was headed in the same direction as the Gillsmore but was much farther behind. Gozan drifted alongside the climber, whispering into his ear.
Go carefully, he said. The fog has left the rigging slick. Don’t want to fall. Hold tight!
The boy’s grip on the futtock shroud slipped, and he gasped, holding tight and cursing Randmuir of the Omatta and his son, whoever they were.
By the time the boy reached the top and got a good look at the surrounding waters, the emperor’s boat had long since rounded the side of the nearest ship. The Igote boat had covered half the distance, and the climber yelled down the location of the craft.
Gozan considered his job complete and returned to the main deck to see what the pirates would do with this information. There he found a common shadir mustering a swarm for a non-magical attack.
“Hwuum, lead your swarm to the boat and do what you can to slow it.”
“Yes, Mikray,” the blue-and-yellow slight said. The group of shadir shot away toward the dinghy.
Gozan studied the common giving orders. He’d heard much of Mikray, who presented himself to humans as the god of fate and fortune. What human had he bound?
“Shama,” Mikray said, “return to the Amarnath and ask the mantics to wield a wind to stop the boat.”
Gozan followed Shama, curious about the number of mantics this Amarnath carried, employing so many shadir. Perhaps Gozan should join them. He longed for a human with evenroot who craved power and destruction, yet he didn’t want to be subservient to any shadir. Gozan had loved the freedom and power he wielded over Jazlyn once she left Tenma and journeyed to Lâhaten. Destroying that ancient city had been one of his grandest moments. Gozan liked his freedom and wanted to keep it if he could.
The swarm approached a ship of average size, though considerably higher quality than the pirate ship. It flew through the ship’s walls and stopped in a luxurious cabin.
It had been over a century since Gozan had seen Dendron. He stood beside a throne on which sat an elderly human male. The man appeared strong, fierce, and exuded a level of self-absorption that Gozan hadn’t felt since being in the presence of High Queen Tahmina. He was talking with a middle-aged woman. Both wore crowns. More kings and queens, Gozan supposed. Beside the queen hovered the common shadir known as Iamos, who currently held the form of an elderly healing woman.
Three famed shadir in one swarm? Gozan could not help but be impressed.
Both humans glanced at the swarm. Mantic rulers? Interesting. The one Mikray had called Shama approached the throne.
“What is it?” the human king asked.
“The emperor escaped on a dinghy,” Shama said. “Mikray requests the mantics wield a wind to hinder its progress.”
“Mantics are needed,” the king said to a tiny yellow slight. “Fetch Yohthehreth and Lau. Tell Lau to bring a bottle of root juice.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” The slight sank through the floor.
Gozan followed it, keeping as far back as he could, not wanting to be seen. The slight moved down one floor and through several rooms before stopping in a small cabin that was ornately decorated. Only one man occupied the cabin. Gozan saw no shadir.
“King Barthel requests your immediate presence in the throne room,” the slight said. “Yohthehreth as well. He also asks that you bring a bottle of evenroot juice.”
The man jumped to his feet, grinning. He was short and bald but for a thin priest’s braid that curled down the middle of his back. “Tell the king we’re on our way.”
The slight flitted up through the ceiling. Gozan let it go and instead followed the man, who exited the cabin and let himself into a room across the corridor. “Rogedoth wants us to do magic. I sensed from the messenger this is urgent.”
An older man sat at a desk, dressed in white robes. His ashy gray hair had been bound in a bun at the nape of his neck, and a short beard hung from his chin. He stood and pulled a chain from the neckline of his robe. “Since when is anything Rogedoth wants not urgent?” He walked to a cabinet that lined the wall and used the key to open the door. Inside, bottles wrapped in packing cloth stood side by side. There were at least thirty behind this door alone.
Evenroot juice.
The man in white removed one bottle and closed the cabinet, relocking it and tucking the key back into his robes. “Best be off, then. He’s in the throne room, I assume?”
“So said the shadir.”
The older man opened the door for the younger. “After you, Lau.”
Out they went.
Gozan remained for a time, staring at the cabinet, longing for just one bottle of root juice to carry back to Jazlyn. If they were on land, he might find a way to entice a new mantic to his service and convince him to steal one and take it to Jazlyn. But the distance was too great, and the mantics on board this ship seemed too powerful to be tricked.
It was hopeless.
He might as well present himself at the Gillsmore and report to Jazlyn what he had learned about this King Barthel and his—
“Who are you?”
Gozan spun around. Leaning against the wall opposite the cabinet stood Dendron, the great shadir.
Gozan still held the form of a slight. He bowed deeply. “I am Chelo, great one.”
Dendron laughed, a moist sound that raised Gozan’s hackles. “Chelo died in the Great War. I killed him myself when I discovered he was a spy for the High Queen of Tenma. There is no need to hide your true self from me. I sense your power is great. To whom are you bonded? Or are you without a host?”
“I am Zitheos,” Gozan said, shifting into the black fang cat form that Zitheos preferred. Priestess Omarietta had been in Tenma when the Five Woes had struck, so choosing the form of Zitheos seemed a safe choice. “My human is dead.”
“One of the Tennish priestesses? Did she die in the Five Woes?”
Gozan saw no reason to keep the facts secret. “Priestess Omarietta died by the hand of rebels. The humans called it the Eunuch Rebellion. The eunuchs called themselves Kushaw. In the confusion of the Five Woes, they killed many of the Great Ladies of Tenma.”
“What became of the other Tennish shadir?” Dendron asked.
“I am uncertain. The carnage of the Five Woes absorbed me for many days. When the rapture faded, I found
myself alone. I bound a novice mantic and made my way north with him and a group of Tennish refugees. We ended up in Larsa and bought passage aboard a Rurekan vessel. Pirates just now overtook it. When I saw the number of shadir, I grew curious as to who controlled such a swarm and came to see for myself. My mantic has little evenroot left. I have been growing restless.”
“Evenroot is rare in these times,” Dendron said. “It was fortuitous that my human had been hoarding it in secret long before the Five Woes became reality. I suspect that once land is found, by that fact alone he shall become ruler over this rabble.” Dendron narrowed his eyes. “What ship did you say you came from again?”
Gozan knew he could risk no more. “I didn’t,” he said and vanished.
It had been a risky move, facing Dendron in such a way. Gozan shouldn’t have done it, but the temptation had been too great. For too long he had been idle. By the time Gozan passed the dinghy of Igote that had been blown off course, two more dinghies had reached them and taken the soldiers captive. Gozan slowed to study the soldiers, pleased to see that three of them were young enough to at least be mistaken for Emperor Ulrik. It should give the Gillsmore enough time to move on. Or if they were followed, to prepare for an attack.
On the Gillsmore Gozan found Jazlyn installed in a cabin no bigger than she’d had aboard the Baretam. He was about to share an adapted version of his exploits and discoveries in regards to Dendron and King Barthel when Masi and a swarm of his own shadir appeared before him.
“Where have you been?” he roared, relieved to finally see them.
“We have found land, master!” Masi said, bowing low. “Magon’s shadir have gone to report to her.”
“How far? Is it big enough for all?”
“With a strong wind it’s as many as two weeks’ sailing to the west,” Masi said. “They are islands, but some are as big as Tenma once was. A local shadir knew nothing of our ways—nothing of evenroot and bonding with humans. His land has a magic of its own, vastly different from ours. I do not think we would be welcomed there.”
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