Deathcaster (Shattered Realms)

by Cinda Williams Chima

  “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” Botetort grumbled.

  “Again, we lose track of the ship, until it lands on the northern coast somewhere between Chalk Cliffs and Spiritgate.” The spymaster paused, then added, “North of the border.”

  Charles looked around the table, to see who was buying what the lieutenant was selling. Everyone looked confused except the general, whose face had flushed an angry red. Sweat trickled down the center of Charles’s back.

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Father Fosnaught said. “Why would the empress deliver the hostages to the witch in the north? Have they formed an alliance?” He shuddered, as if to say the only thing worse than one witch is two.

  “Because the empress controls that territory now,” Lieutenant Karn said. “It may be that the empress made the same offer to the queen in the north that she made to our late king—an alliance and an army. An offer King Gerard was wise enough to decline. However it happened, the empress’s armies attacked Chalk Cliffs, and now hold the city and the port. She has been off-loading soldiers, horses, and equipment in preparation for what appears to be a major invasion.”

  “A pirate queen from Carthis has taken Chalk Cliffs?” General Karn rolled his eyes. “That’s hard to believe. Your eyes and ears are as trustworthy as a harlot’s kiss.”

  “Actually, it’s true,” King Jarat said. “I have my own eyes and ears in the north, and they confirm what the lieutenant is saying. The empress now controls Chalk Cliffs, and shows every sign of mounting a major offensive.” He paused. “However. I’ve not heard anything about the arrival of our women and children.”

  Both Karns—father and son—looked surprised. They’d finally found something to agree on.

  Lieutenant Karn recovered first. Startlement slid off him like the skin from a snake. He nodded at the king, as if grateful for the support, and continued, “Celestine is more than a pirate. My agents in the east tell me that she now controls the entire Desert Coast as well as the Northern Islands. There’s nothing more to conquer on her home ground. I surmise that she’s seeking new territories.”

  “That still doesn’t explain why this pirate empress would send agents to kidnap the families of the rebels and members of our royal family,” the general said.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” the spymaster said. “She’s hoping we will blame the rebels. Right now, she’d prefer that we continue fighting each other. That keeps us out of her hair and weakens us so that we will be easy pickings when she turns her eyes south. And she will.”

  “So,” Jarat said, “we’ll turn their strategy on its ear. While the northerners are distracted by the attack on their port, we’ll march north to Fellsmarch, take the capital, and confront the pirates on northern soil. They will wish they’d never set foot in Ardenscourt.”

  The general’s face had grown darker and darker as the conversation proceeded. “Your Majesty, with all due respect, it’s not that easy. We haven’t penetrated anywhere close to the seat of the witch in over twenty-five years.”

  “Whose fault is that?” Jarat said, his voice cold and cutting. “Perhaps our luck is about to change. I have reason to believe that we may receive a warmer welcome in the north than previously. Once the Realms are united, our armies will drive the empress into the sea.”

  “Whoever sold you that story is shoveling scummer,” the general said. “As I’ve said before, the loss of the hostages won’t make a bit of difference when it comes to the rebellion. Lord Matelon was never going to negotiate anyway. He’s never parleyed with a hostage-taker or redeemed a prisoner, and he won’t begin now. The northerners are no threat to us. They won’t set foot outside their mountain strongholds, expecially if they’re being attacked from the east. Our greatest threat comes from the rebel thanes, who are used to fighting in the flatlands. Our best protection is the fact that I have a battle-tested army between here and Temple Church. If we march north, the rebels will be inside our walls in a fortnight. We need to handle them first.”

  “It’s too bad that your battle-tested army didn’t stand between us and whoever engineered the attack on the city,” Charles said. “Lord Granger is dead, we’ve been embarrassed in front of our guests, the hostages are gone, and so far, nobody has answered for it.”

  The general gave Charles a look that all but turned his bowels to water, then shifted his attention to his usual target.

  “Actually, internal security is the lieutenant’s job,” the general said, jutting his chin at his son.

  “A job I take very seriously,” the spymaster shot back.

  “Your Majesty,” General Karn said, “I’m still not convinced that the pirates—if it was the pirates—could have pulled off the kidnapping without help. Fifty people don’t just disappear. Whoever did it knew his way around the city.” Again, he fixed his gaze on Lieutenant Karn.

  “No doubt the empress has operatives within the walls, as I do in the Fells,” the younger Karn said. “What’s important is that we act quickly to undo the damage that has been—”

  “If I take my army haring off into the north, then we will be vulnerable to the rebel militias,” the general said. “No doubt they will take that opportunity to attack the city in force. Or is that the idea?” Again, he looked at the lieutenant.

  He’s totally throwing his son to the wolves, Charles thought.

  “What are you suggesting, General?” Botetort looked from father to son. “Are you saying that it was the thanes who engineered this, after all?”

  The general nodded. “The thanes—in alliance with traitors on the inside.”

  This was the moment Charles had been waiting for. “Your Majesty,” he said, “as you know, I have evidence pertaining to this. General Karn is right—there is a traitor in our midst.”

  The council members shifted in their seats, trying not to make eye contact with anyone else, each one of them wondering, Which midst? Present company? The castle close? The capital? Charles enjoyed watching them squirm.

  “Who?” Lord Botetort blurted, catapulting to his feet, looking around wildly, reaching for his absent sword.

  Charles glared at him, irritated at having his script interrupted. “When I was going through Luc’s personal effects, I came across a strongbox containing a packet of correspondence from agents of the empress. Specifically, the pirate. Strangward.”

  Botetort’s eyes widened. “Young Granger was a spy?”

  “Certainly not,” Charles snapped. “It was addressed to someone else. When I went through it, it became clear that this traitor has been working for the empress for years, and Luc had somehow discovered it. I believe that is what got him killed. So I brought my findings directly to His Majesty.”

  Jarat looked around the circle, seeming to enjoy the drama of the moment. “I told Captain Barbeau to gather more evidence so that we could measure the scope of the problem and determine what to do.” He nodded at Charles, then turned and looked directly at Lieutenant Karn.

  “Why don’t you take it from here, Lieutenant?”

  4

  A CHANGE IN THE WEATHER

  The wetlanders didn’t listen to Evan’s warnings. Over his strenuous objections, the next day Captain DeVilliers charted a course due east, directly toward the Northern Islands. She refused to put into shore and allow him to disembark.

  You should have known this would happen, Evan thought, trying to quell the despair and helplessness rising in him.

  That sick, stupid feeling reminded him of the day he’d first met Celestine, back when he was crewing for Latham Strangward. He’d sat astride the tops’l yard, looking down at the crew he’d thought were his friends. Who’d kept secrets from him. Who’d lied to him. Who’d threatened to kill him.

  He’d trusted them, and they betrayed him. He’d sworn that would never happen again.

  Since then, the only people he’d ever trusted were Destin Karn and Destin’s mother, Frances.

  You should have known not to trust these wetlanders. This is why you
’ve always used stormborn in your crew—so you wouldn’t risk betrayal at sea.

  And then, friendless orphan that he was, he’d put aside the good sense that had served him for so long. He’d been so eager to make an ally that he’d overlooked the danger. And now, once again, he was heading straight into Celestine’s hands.

  Still, when his stormborn crew, Brody and Jorani, came to him for direction, he told them to follow the Fellsian captain’s orders to the letter. “There’s only one captain on this ship,” Evan said. “That’s what we agreed on.”

  “Why should we keep our promises when they don’t?” Jorani grumbled.

  “Because I don’t want you to pay the sailor’s price for insubordination.”

  “We’re willing to pay it,” Brody said, and Jorani nodded.

  “Because we need to win them over,” Evan said.

  They slouched away, with many backward looks.

  What he didn’t say was that there was more than one way to win them over. Or to win, at least. He’d tried the carrot. Now for the stick.

  The day after that, the wind changed from the usual easterlies to blow strongly from the northwest. The entire crew worked like demons to stay ahead of the weather: deploying sails, trimming them, turning the ship into the wind, then turning again when the wind changed, struggling to make any headway at all. Every time they relaxed their vigilance, the ship was driven off course—always south.

  The weather was known to be chancy in the northern Indio, but now waterspouts rose from the ocean all around them, smashing into them broadside. Sailors learned to cling to railings, masts, and other fixed objects as they navigated their way around the decks, since every so often a rogue wave would smash over the gunwales, threatening to wash crew members into the sea.

  Evan stayed out of sight as much as possible, appearing only to work his watches and to take his meals in the galley. The rest of the time he spent reading in the day cabin or lurking on deck in out-of-the-way places, watching the skies and using his instruments and star charts to determine their position. He made sure to keep the wolf constellation to his right and the dragon of Carthis to his left.

  After a day of this, DeVilliers hunted Evan down in the stern gallery, where he’d taken refuge from the weather. He was playing his third game of nicks and bones with Brody.

  She minced no words. “Strangward! When you signed on for this, you agreed to follow my orders at sea.”

  Evan glanced about, pretending that he thought the wetland sea captain might be speaking to someone else. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he said. “I haven’t missed a watch, and I’m off duty now. Is something wrong?”

  “Captain Strangward told us to do what you said,” Brody volunteered. “He said you was the only captain on this ship.”

  The ship rocked violently as a wave struck it midships, and DeVilliers had to grab onto the rail to keep from being thrown off her feet. She pointed at Brody. “You. Go.”

  Brody packed up the game pieces, saluted them both, and hurried away.

  “I’m talking about the bloody weather,” DeVilliers said.

  Evan parsed his words carefully. “All ship’s masters are at the mercy of the weather gods.”

  “I honor the weather gods,” DeVilliers said. “But wizard mischief is something else. I won’t tolerate insubordination. Tell the truth, now—are you responsible for these rogue winds and relentless storms?”

  Evan gave up the dance. “We agreed on a plan, Captain,” he said. “Then you changed it. I told you that I would not allow you to deliver me into the empress’s hands, and I won’t.”

  The captain’s eyes narrowed. “So you are interfering.”

  “Your word is law aboard ship, but out there . . .” He waved toward the rail. “I’ll use every weapon at my command to survive.”

  “By capsizing us?”

  “There’s no need for that. Simply put me ashore and you can be on your way. I’ll wish you fair winds and following seas.”

  “And what’s to prevent you from sending word to the empress that we are on the way?”

  Evan shrugged. “The fact that Celestine and I are enemies? The fact that I gave my word, and I mean to keep it?” Unlike you.

  DeVilliers stuck out her hand. “Give me your amulet.”

  Evan curled his hand protectively around Destin’s amulet. “It won’t make any difference. You see, I don’t use amulets in the same way that—”

  “Give it here,” she said, “and that’s an order.”

  Reluctantly, he lifted the chain from around his neck and handed it over. Captain DeVilliers turned on her heel and stalked away.

  The weather went from bad to worse. After three days, Sea Wolf had been driven nearly to Deepwater Court, instead of north, where DeVilliers wanted to go. The crew’s efforts to force her north all but capsized them several times. Even experienced sailors spent much of the day heaving over the side.

  Now DeVilliers relieved Evan of duty and ordered that he be confined belowdecks. The next day, the relentless winds died and the seas quieted until the surface was like glass. And then they sat. And sat. Becalmed. Not a breath of air stirred the sheets that hung limp on the mainmast. DeVilliers was a capable pilot, and the entire crew willing, but nothing is nothing, and they went nowhere.

  The Fellsians came and went from the day cabin, glaring, until DeVilliers burst in, slapped Evan’s book away, and said, “Do you think this is some kind of a joke?”

  Evan blinked up at her, then leaned down and retrieved his book. “I thought you wanted calm weather,” he said, trying to find his place again.

  She ripped the book out of his hands and tossed it into the corner. “Tell me why I shouldn’t bind you hand and foot and toss you overboard,” she snapped.

  “If you like the weather we’re having, go ahead,” Evan said. “You and your ship can sit here forever. Before long, you’ll be down to drinking piss.” Actually, he had no idea what would happen to the weather if he drowned, but DeVilliers didn’t need to know that.

  “But you’ll be dead.”

  “Meaning I’ll miss a lot of bad weather. And piss-drinking.” Evan fanned himself.

  “You’re bluffing,” DeVilliers said.

  “I am not bluffing,” Evan said. “I would rather be dead than be handed over to the empress.”

  And that was true.

  The captain ordered him sent to the brig and stormed out.

  Later that day, Evan was drowsing in his hammock, his book lying forgotten on his chest. Wakened by some small sound, he opened his eyes to find the healer sitting opposite him, hands on his knees, looking at him as if he were an egg about to hatch.

  Evan propped up on his elbows. “What is it now?” he said.

  “Are you really willing to capsize this ship in order to get your own way?” the wolf prince said.

  “I’m willing to capsize this ship in order to keep you from handing me over to the empress.”

  The healer scowled. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Look,” Evan said, “I’m not stupid. The empress has something you want, and you have something she wants. We sail directly to Celesgarde and you make the swap.”

  Comprehension dawned in the healer’s eyes. “You think we intend to trade you for my sister.”

  “That is exactly what I think,” Evan said, folding his arms across his chest, over the place his amulet should have been. “I knew I was taking a chance, signing on for this mission, but I did it because we ought to be on the same side. Betraying me may seem like the best way to get your sister back, but I know Celestine, and there’s no way you can play this game with her and win.”

  “I won’t double-cross you,” Prince Adrian said.

  “And I won’t throw you in prison and steal your ship,” Evan said.

  “Look, I’m sorry you overheard that,” the healer said. Embarrassment looked good on him.

  “That’s how I learn things,” Evan said. “Why should I believe your assuranc
es when you won’t believe mine? Can you speak for all of your crewmates?”

  “No,” Prince Adrian said, “which is why I can’t order them to sail into a possible trap in Tarvos.”

  “It’s a lovely city, really,” Evan said. “Plenty of wind.” When the healer kept on scowling, Evan sighed. “What’s the point in being a prince if you cannot tell people what to do?”

  “I’m not the heir—I’m the spare. Besides, we’re a bit more democratic in the Fells than in the empire.”

  “Pity,” Evan said. “Democracy won’t get your sister back.”

  Prince Adrian studied him. “Tell me, pirate—what is the best way to get my sister back?”

  “I’ve already told you. Small ship, small crew, weather magery, and me. I’m willing to go after her by myself, if you’re worried I’m leading you into a trap. But, when I show up at Celestine’s door, why would your ‘Captain Gray’ trust me?”

  “Remind me why you would risk your life to go after my sister?”

  “I need allies,” Evan said. It was all he could do to keep his voice under control. “If I could defeat Celestine on my own, I would. I’ve been fighting her all my life. I assume you brought me along because of that experience. It does you no good if you won’t listen to me. Forgive me, but if you insist on being stupid, I don’t intend to fling myself into the flame alongside you.” Evan paused, distracted by the sound of running feet.

  The door to the brig banged open to reveal Captain Talbot. “Strangward. Captain DeVilliers wants you on deck on the double. There’s a ship bearing down on us, and she’s hoping you can identify it.”

  5

  THE SERPENT’S TOOTH

  “Why don’t you take it from here, Lieutenant?” the king had said. Now every member of the king’s council was staring at Destin, waiting.

  Destin took his time. He sighed and looked at the door as if he wished that he could escape through it. He fingered the heavy gold ring on his right hand for luck—the one engraved with his mother’s Chambord bear signia. The one Evan had given back to him in a tavern in Baston Bay.