Our Lady of the Islands

by Shannon Page

  “Now!” Pino shouted, yanking on the main sheet and the tiller simultaneously. “Get below the tarp, my ladies, and stay hidden ’til I call you out!” As Arian and Sian scrambled through six inches of standing water to gather the now-sopping tarp and drag it back across themselves, the sloop’s luffing sails snapped taut, causing the boat to heel sharply as it started speeding toward the coast. Arian let out a yelp, stumbling into Sian again, and bringing both of them into a splashing tangle on the deck.

  “Just stay down! Forget the tarp!” called Pino, his eyes riveted ahead of them. “Lean against the windward side! I’ve got to point her hard if we’re to reach the shore before they all start running out of water and turn back! I need ballast portside!”

  “Here!” Sian called out to Arian as she scurried to press herself against the portside gunwale. “Help me weigh the boat against the wind!”

  “I know,” said Arian, feeling embarrassed at her helpless behavior. “I’m married to a shipping magnate, after all.” Or, I was, at least, she thought. Oh Viktor, please, please don’t be dead. Or Konrad either. I’m coming now, my loves. I’m finally coming home.

  “All right, boys,” Reikos called down from his place at the helm, “let’s go wreck my ship! Are the cannon ready, Molian?”

  “Aye, sir! Powder only, as you ordered, sir, with shot and shrapnel standing ready.”

  “Thank you!” Reikos had seen no point in wasting good ordnance until they knew who or what actually needed shooting at. As they doubtless would at any moment now. “On my signal then!” He saw Pino’s little boat coming up to starboard and hoped the boy would think to turn into his wake. With apologies, either way, he needed to leave himself as much room portside as he could for this doubtless already too-brief little chase.

  “Stand ready!” he shouted to his crew. “Coming 30 degrees to port!”

  He cranked the wheel hard, his tiny crew scrambling to re-trim so many sails as Fair Passage veered east just in time to avoid both Pino’s craft and two of the half-submerged wrecks already littering Home’s chaotic waterfront. “Kyrios! This’ll likely be their only good look! Make them believe you!”

  In his pool of lamplight at the prow, Kyrios rushed the starboard rail, shouting in falsetto and shaking his fists higher than ever at a cluster of gunboats flying the Orlon family crest. Rumors had been rife back at port on Cutter’s that House Orlon had sided with the usurpers.

  Having traded luxury goods for many years in Alizar, Reikos and his men knew who the islands’ leading families were — and all their house devices at sight. A quick sweep of the shoreline made it plain that everyone had shown up for this party. In addition to a few Factorate ships, and a handful flying Alkattha colors — which might be the Factor’s, or might be the Census Taker’s, he realized — Reikos saw banners aloft for Houses Orlan, Sark, Suba-Tien, Colara, Phaero, and half a dozen others. Almost certainly Fair Passage would have friends as well as foes somewhere in this tangle. But, with the exception of those Factorate boats, and possibly those of House Orlon, he had no way of guessing — yet — who fought for which side here. Another reason to load only powder at this point.

  “Ready cannons!” Reikos shouted as Fair Passage came broadside to the waterfront, still moving at a frightening speed. “Fire!”

  The roar set his teeth rattling, but he felt sure that anyone distracted from their passage must be paying attention now. “Kyrios! You’re done! Get up here, and man these charts!”

  At the prow, his first mate gathered up his skirts and came running for the helm.

  “Here they come, Captain!” shouted Dannos. “All of them, I think — gods help us!”

  “Man your posts and pay attention to your work!” Reikos shouted down. “Molian, you and Eagent get those cannons loaded up again — with shot this time! But move’em sternward first! That’s where we’ll need to fire’em from now on!”

  “Aye, aye!” Molian scrambled down the hatch to where Eagent was likely already at work on this very task.

  “Sellas, get those jib sails trimmed!”

  “Aye, Captain!” Sellas ran forward from the main mast where he’d been helping Jak.

  “Dolous!” Reikos shouted to his seventh man, beneath the mizzen mast, struggling, like everyone else, with too many sheets at once. “We’re on a reach now, not a tack!”

  “Sorry, Captain!” Dolous called, rushing to correct the mizzen’s top gallant sail.

  They had already lost a lot of speed coming through the turn, which was good in one sense, as they were rushing toward their doom, but not so good in another. Reikos glanced back to find at least five well-armed craft already pulling ahead of the pack behind them.

  Kyrios arrived at last, breathing hard, and grabbed up one of the charts clipped to the binnacle box. “The deepest channel’s over there, sir.” He thrust an arm out forty-five degrees to port. “But it won’t take us much past the bridge to Apricot.” His eyes raced up and down the parchment. “There’s another, ten degrees starboard, that’ll bring us to the bridge at a rough angle; but once we’re under, it grows deeper as the other channel fails.”

  “Just what I wanted,” Reikos growled, turning the wheel. “Sailing closer to shore.”

  Kyrios pointed ahead. “When we’ve come abreast of that burning wharf up there, resume your previous heading, and maintain your distance. That should keep us in the channel.”

  The boom of cannons came from well behind them, causing them both to turn.

  Three great jets of water leapt into the air too far off their stern to matter much. Yet.

  “One of Orlon’s.” Reikos shook his head, watching the roil of gunsmoke drift away behind their attacker. “Not just a rumor then.”

  “Traitorous bastard,” Kyrios muttered, returning to his charts.

  “Well, that’s two less cannon balls to worry about.” Reikos turned forward to peruse the course ahead of them. “Let’s hope the vessel’s captain is an impatient man who doesn’t want to wait ’til we’re in range to keep on firing.”

  “Here, sir. Ten degrees port, and we should be fine until we reach the bridge.”

  As Reikos turned the wheel, he glanced down at Jak, who was just tying things off beside the main mast. “Jak! Go get a saw, then climb up and cut halfway through the main mast, just below the gallant! Only halfway! Got that? And from the front — mind you — not the back!”

  “Aye …?” the man called, looking confused. “The mast, Captain?”

  “Now, man! Do it before I need you down here trimming sail again!”

  “Aye!” He went running to the carpentry locker.

  “May I ask what you’re doing, sir?” Kyrios inquired. “If the gallant falls, it’ll take out gods know how much other rigging — which it does seem we could use just now.”

  “The solid half’ll hold against one sail in airs like these,” said Reikos. “I’m nearly certain the bridge to Apricot is high enough to let us under; but if we’re lucky enough to reach any of the others, I’d rather lose the top of my main mast than the whole thing. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Aye, Captain. I suppose I would.”

  “If there’s time, I’ll send him up to shave the mizzen as well.”

  Kyrios gazed up at the sails, then out across the darkened channel at the distant bridge to Apricot. “So we’re truly going to wreck her?” he asked, as if still unable to believe it.

  “I think that’s a given at this point, old friend. Let’s see how far we can take her first though, shall we? What do those charts say? Should we just go ’round Home toward Shingle Beach, or keep on between Montchattaran and Viel?”

  “The channel between Home and Viel is wider, Captain, but too shallow. If the sea were just a little lower, they’d be a single island at low tide. We’ll have to try our luck north of Viel — if we manage to get even half that far.”

  Reikos nodded. “And north of Viel even the main bridge is a good deal lower than Apricot’s. I wonder how many of our followers ride lo
w enough to fare any better than ourselves. Look back and tell me who we’ve got there.”

  Kyrios turned to gaze behind them. “Out in front, there’s Orlon’s two, of course. The big one that fired on us will be out of luck as soon as we are, likely. Might be why he’s so impatient to be firing. The smaller one may get farther, and it’s more maneuverable. That’ll be a problem. Right behind him looks to be one of Colara’s — heavily armed, it looks from here, but also too big to be trouble for us long if we can manage not to run aground too soon … Behind them, I see two ships flying House Phaero’s flag. His and hers, you think?”

  Reikos grinned darkly. Lord and Lady Phaero were contentious siblings, their twin estates crowded onto one small island.

  “They’re small enough to make it quite a ways, perhaps,” Kyrios continued. “Good or bad for us, depending on who they serve at present. Well back of those, I see two Factorate ships, and one Alkattha banner, I believe.”

  “Damn shame they were all so far west when we came through,” Reikos said. “We sure could’ve used’em up here between us and all these others.”

  “Aye, Captain. If wishes were dingies, as they say … Well off to port back there, we’ve also got what seems a bunch of fishing boats with light guns tacked to their backs — all flying banners of House Sark, if I am not mistaken. Nimble as wasps, I wager. If they can catch us at all, and dare to risk our superior guns and height, they could cause us real trouble. Not that the bottom still isn’t likelier to take us down first.” He raised a hand to block the glare of firelight from shore. “I see one of Suba-Tien’s trading clippers too, trailing quite a ways behind the rest. Can’t tell from here if they’re even armed, but I doubt they’ll make it even this far anyway.”

  Reikos shook his head. “As in business, so in war, eh? Lady Suba-Tien does like to play things close to her vest. I wonder which side she’s come down on — or if she’s just here to straddle the plank and keep score. What about the shoreline? Are there troops following us as well, or is it only boats we’ve drawn away from Pino?”

  Kyrios turned to peer into the firelight. “It’s hard to tell, Captain. There’s too much commotion in the streets, but the swarm does seem to flow this way a bit. Either way, Pino should be able to get ashore without being shot out of the water now.” He turned to look back at the craft pursuing them, and frowned. “Speaking of which, Orlon’s and Colara’s gunboats have both gathered quite a bit of speed. Looks like a race to see who ends us first.”

  The words had barely passed his lips when a second volley of cannon fire made Reikos duck and spin around to see if this would be all the further they got. To his amazement, it was not his ship from which the crash and crackle of splintering wood issued. As clouds of smoke billowed just starboard of Colara’s gunboat, Orlon’s foremost ship shuddered and swayed as a gout of dust and shrapnel boiled from the sudden gaping hole in its port side. Seconds later, its main mast cracked audibly and slumped over. Though it didn’t fall completely, a portion of the deck around it seemed to collapse. Reikos could hear the uproar of frightened shouts and screams across the distance as the ship began to lean, and fell swiftly away behind them.

  “And now we know who at least one of our friends is.” Reikos grinned, washed with relief, however ill-founded. One friendly gunboat wasn’t likely to get them out of these straits, but with all the Factorate ships he could have counted on so far behind, it was a great encouragement. “If only we had the real Factora-Consort on board, I could just haul over and hand her off to Colara’s men right now. We might even make it out of here.”

  “You think they’d notice if you gave them me, then?” Kyrios batted his eyes at Reikos.

  “I think they’d sink us on the spot. Please don’t do that with your eyes again. Things are frightening enough here.” Reikos turned to peer ahead. The bridge to Apricot loomed closer in the darkness, pale and gracefully attenuated. Among the first built of Alizar’s modern bridges, it had been styled by its grandiose designers to resemble the ancient ruins scattered so mysteriously throughout the island chain. They’d built it high enough to allow for some degree of maritime traffic back and forth between the inner city and the open sea — though nothing as large as Fair Passage, of course. As Kyrios kept pointing out, channel depths had been left shallow around the city’s core — for good reason. Reikos was pretty sure Fair Passage would fit under it, however. Almost certain … Looking upward, he saw Jak already up the main mast, busy with the saw. “No time to shave the mizzen mast, I guess. But if I have to lose one, it’s the better choice.”

  Coppersmith fairly bounced across the bay’s light chop now, leaning hard to starboard as they raced for shore. They had achieved a sort of balance, all leaning out against the portside gunwales, and Sian’s ability to think beyond the instant was returning.

  “I apologize,” said Pino. “I should have turned the boat into that wake, but I was so surprised to see him … go that way. I didn’t think in time.”

  They all turned to stare at the astonishing flotilla behind them, still heading east into the city center where no vessels of such size could hope to sail safely, if at all.

  “Why did he do this?” Sian asked.

  “To save us, I’m afraid,” Arian answered bleakly. “From drawing all those boats our way instead. What he means to do about it now, though, is beyond me.”

  “Shouldn’t he be slowing down, at least?” asked Pino. “Soon there won’t be room to turn at such a speed. He’s nearly halfway to the bridge already. Doesn’t he know —”

  “Reikos has sailed these waters for many years,” Sian cut in, shaking her head. “He could not have done this by mistake.”

  Pino turned to gaze shoreward again. “Well, whatever he’s doing, it’s bought us this chance to sidestep their blockade. That much, at least, has gone according to plan.”

  Sian and Arian both turned forward too. “But only the blockade, it seems,” said Arian. “Does one of you see anyplace up there that looks remotely safe for us to come ashore?”

  Sian scoured the waterfront. The Factorate’s once posh marina was, unsurprisingly, just smoldering wreckage now. All else along the shoreline not engulfed in flames was teeming with people — mostly men, and armed — either actively engaged in combat, or looking primed for trouble. Coppersmith’s fixed keel would prevent them from just sailing up onto some beach, even if they found one not already inundated with this conflict; and she could see few docks still fit even to tie a boat to, let alone safe for them to come ashore from without being immediately surrounded by potential enemies.

  Pino shook his head as well. “We’ll have to sail west, I think, until we find some bit of shoreline not so full of trouble. The whole island can’t be in this state, can it?”

  In the distance, cannon fire erupted briefly, and they all turned back to watch the mad parade following Reikos — still headed east toward the bridge to Apricot.

  “Doesn’t look as though they hit him,” Pino said.

  “Surely he cannot intend to sail underneath the bridge,” said Arian.

  “That would be suicidal,” Sian murmured.

  “I’m falling off the wind to turn now,” Pino said, already pulling at the tiller. “Lean in, my ladies, please.” The boat veered gently westward as Pino played its sails out, and it ceased leaning so severely.

  This new trajectory put their backs to Reikos, as if they were just running from sight of whatever happened next. Sian could not believe he meant to smash his ship into the islands somewhere. No one had asked that of him, had they? Had they?

  As they headed further toward the open sea, the surface chop grew rougher, and the wind began to rise. Soon the bow was bucking up over whitecaps and thudding jarringly into the troughs. Drenching spray flew over the gunwales to join the pool already sloshing at their feet. Arian grew quieter, looking, perhaps, a little green, though that might just have been the moonlight. Sian reached over to wrap Arian’s hand in hers, and yes … There was the scent of ginge
r, and a queasiness in Sian’s throat and bowels as well. She closed her eyes and breathed more deeply while it passed.

  A moment later, Arian looked over at her sharply. “Did you just …?”

  Sian shrugged, and looked away. “Why let you suffer, and waste the gift?”

  “If only we had gotten you to Konrad earlier,” Arian sighed.

  Her words seemed echoed by the young priest’s voice in Sian’s memory: If you had made any effort to deliver it, you would likely have found out by now. How much might have happened differently, Sian wondered, if she’d just gone straight off to the ruling family as ordered to, and told them … what? That she was suddenly a healer? Could the god really have expected her to understand so quickly that her message was the gift itself?

  She had known about Konrad’s illness, certainly. She had figured out by the next day that she was able now to heal with a touch, and yet …

  Would they reach the Factorate at last, only to discover that her earlier resistance had cost them their chance? She thought again of that poor child’s dark gaze on Pembo’s Beach. Had it been the god’s reproach she’d seen peering from those eyes — for having failed him already?

  In the distance, they heard another round of cannon fire, but they’d already come too far around the western point of Home to see the channel now. If they’d known before that they would need to sail around the island anyway, Sian realized, Reikos need never have placed his ship in danger to begin with. They could just have sailed where they were sailing without his help — as they were doing now — though she had no doubt that he’d still have been here in the boat with them. How much else have those few days of my delay cost?

  “Domina Kattë,” said Pino, “may I give you the tiller for a moment? These seas are getting high — with so much water in the boat. I’d better bail her out some.” He was already reaching underneath his bench to grab the bucket stowed there.