Flight of the Renshai fotr-1

by Mickey Zucker Reichert

  Imorelda licked a paw and used it to straighten her whiskers.*Can I do that?* Disgust radiated clearly through the words. If she had a speaking voice, she would certainly have mocked him.*A human asking a cat if she can hide. It's like me asking you if you can manage walking on your hind legs.* She turned her back on Tae again.*Cats have been the mistresses of stealth since long before humans existed. Cats twenty times my size would stalk and kill humans before they knew they were being hunted.* She snorted.*Can I hide?*

  Tae had no idea where that information came from. He doubted cats had existed longer than humans, and he could not imagine one twenty times her size. Big as a pony. But Imorelda still had a worthwhile point.*Sorry, Mistress of Stealth. Just make sure you don't hide so well that I can't find you.* *You'll find me if I want you to find me.* Imorelda clambered delicately up Tae's chest and arms to spread herself across his shoulders.*I'm not going to get wet, am I?*

  Sensing genuine concern in the question, Tae did not joke.*I'll do my best to keep you dry. Just, please, don't panic if you take a splash or two.*

  Tae felt her shudder. Imorelda did not like water in general, but she had taken a particular dislike to the salty variety. Or, perhaps, it had more to do with the vastness of the ocean. He imagined tumbling off a merchant ship into the dark and icy depths, watching the ship glide away, oblivious to her loss. Surrounded by water; nothing to drink. A world of fish; nothing to eat. A man would die of exposure or thirst or drowning long before he could swim to shore or find another ship. To a cat, it had to seem the worst death of all.

  Looking out for boats, Tae paddled toward the stern. The first edge of sun was just touching the horizon. The meeting had likely not started yet, but he hoped the generals had settled into closed quarters rather than standing on the deck gabbing in the cold morning breeze.*Imorelda, please. I need you to focus again.*

  Tae received no reply. Apparently, Imorelda was already scanning, but the alsona were mentally silent. An idea came to him, based on his previous thoughts. He prodded the cat with a finger.

  She looked at him.

  Uncertain whether Imorelda was set on his mind level, or theirs, he spoke aloud. "Can you bring my mind speech to a place where only one man can 'hear' me?"

  Imorelda gave no reply.

  Just as Tae assumed she had not heard him, and prepared to repeat the question, she finally answered.*Maybe I could. If he was the nearest of them and away from the others.*

  Tae would have liked a more definitive answer, but doubted one was possible. Aside from the elves, Imorelda, Matrinka, and himself, no one on the continent had any experience with mental communication. He supposed he could have gone to Tem'aree'ay for advice, but he doubted Griff 's elfin wife could have helped him much, if at all. Tae had already noticed significant differences between the alsona's mind conversation and the elves' khohlar.*Good enough, Imorelda. It won't ruin everything if more than one sailor hears me. It'll just make things a bit more difficult.* *You mean 'make the incredibly stupid a bit more impossible?'*

  Tae smiled.*Exactly.* Then he became serious. His plan would require him to kill an innocent man, albeit an enemy, in cold blood. And, while fully justified by war, it still bothered him. Tae tried to shake the last modicum of guilt with the teachings of his father: "Thought is a man's greatest gift and also his most dangerous enemy. For, though it can save you from any situation, any situation, it can also paralyze you with fear or horror or guilt. Hesitation has killed many a killer and stolen many a thief."

  No hesitation, Tae reminded himself. Bold and sure. Hoping Imorelda had gone back to scanning, he spoke to her directly. "Hang on. I'm going to need my hands to climb." Realizing the opening he had just given her, he clarified. "Try not to dig your claws through my neck veins, please. If I bleed to death, we're both plunging into the ocean."

  Imorelda gave him a warning jab in the right shoulder but did not bother to reply.

  Tae paddled flush to the lead ship's bow, but found nothing on which to hook his flotsam boat. He had no choice but to abandon it, and the pack with their remaining rations, which meant he would have to either find more debris or swim to shore. He believed he could make it, but Imorelda would have to balance on his back, despising and complaining every moment.

  Tae nestled his fingers against the wood, pleased to find easy hand- and toeholds amid the barnacles and mollusks clinging to the sides. He moved quickly, concerned about putting his full weight on any bit for longer than an instant. Sailors cursed the job of cleaning the hull, but enough scraping broke even the most tenacious creatures free.

  The hull curved outward, then inward, providing an uncomfortable shelf beneath the gunwale that allowed Tae a brief respite. He regrouped there, crouched below sight of the deck. The moon played through the riggings, turning the brown sails to iridescent bronze. When he craned his neck around the bulge above his shelf, Tae caught a glimpse of a sailor messing with the main sail shrouds. He found no one else in his line of vision.

  Tae checked his pockets, already knowing what he ought to find. He always traveled light, more so when he could tumble into the ocean at any moment. Now, he carried the wig on his head, a knife, and a few coins seized from the two captured pirates. Those would give him an air of authenticity should he need it. His other pocket held a fist-sized gemstone that Matrinka had insisted he take. Tae knew the alsona would not allow him to buy his way out of anything; if they wanted the gem, they would simply kill him and take it. If they didn't, they would kill him and leave it. Either way, it did him no earthly good.

  Yet, now, Tae found a purpose for it. He smiled, clutching it in his fist. "Imorelda, listen." *I'm here,* the cat said mournfully.*Where else could I be?*

  Tae could feel the claws pressing through his clothing into his upper back.*Try to carry my voice just to that sailor near the main mast.*

  Imorelda shifted position, and Tae lowered his center of gravity to keep from losing his balance.*I see one man. Near that rope tangle.*

  Only Imorelda would see a perfectly woven ladderwork and consider it a "tangle." Tae knew they were probably looking at the same man. With the ships at anchor, the alsona only needed one sailor working at the mainsail before sunrise.

  Tae nodded, still worried he might catch Imorelda in the wrong phase and accidentally broadcast conversations meant only for her. "If you're ready."

  Imorelda loosened her claws long enough to pat his cheek in reply, then ratcheted them back into his flesh. *Man overboard!* Tae tried to put panic into his sending.*Help!*

  A worried voice entered Tae's head,*Where are you, friend?*

  The flaw in Tae's plan became immediately clear. With Imorelda's aid, his sending might reach only one person; but the sailor's reply could possibly travel farther. *Starboard stern.* Tae appreciated the days he had spent listening to dull sailor talk. It had given him the alsona vocabulary he needed.*Please hurry. I can't hold out much longer.* Rising, he gripped the gemstone tightly in his right fist.

  Tae heard running footfalls on the deck. A head and torso appeared suddenly around the gunwale, looking into the water.

  With all the strength he could muster, Tae rose up and slammed the gemstone against the sailor's left temple. Surprise registered in the man's dark eyes, then he collapsed across the railing. *That wasn't nice.*

  Tae ignored Imorelda. The gem crashed against the alsona's head a second time with a sickening crack, stone against skull. Bracing for the weight, Tae slid the limp form over the railing to ease it, as gently as possible, onto his sloping ledge. Blood twined between Tae's fingers and made a sticky tangle in the other man's reddish hair.

  Swiftly, Tae wiped his hand and the gemstone on the hem of his own shirt, then tore off a huge piece. *What are you doing?* *Get down, Imorelda.* Tae barely waited for her to obey before whipping off his cloak. He secured the piece of fabric around the alsona's head to cover the wound he had created.

  Imorelda paced around them.*What are you doing?* She poked her furry face into
the alsona's.*You've practically killed him, and now you're tending his wounds?*

  Tae did not want to lose his focus but knew he had to answer the cat or field an ever increasing number of questions. He still needed her to keep him tuned to the alsona or risk missing important announcements that might determine his knowledge or survival.*I'm not tending anything. I'm just trying to keep blood off my new clothes.* Tae refused to think of the alsona as human, only as an enemy. Even as he did,Tae realized the irony of the strategy, the same one the alsona used to justify slaughtering the people of the Westlands.*Imorelda, stay on their level, for now.You need to keep in touch, so we don't lose each other, but I also have to make sure no one has noticed this man's absence.*

  Carefully, Tae worked to strip the man of his foreign clothing. The belt came off first, leather with several small, stitched pockets, each holding an item: a utility knife, a handkerchief, rolled twine, a smear of pitch folded into a thick scrap, a few copper coins, dull metal pins, and some small hooks. All things a sailor might use, stored in convenient locations. Tae made a mental note to see if his tailors could fashion something similar for the Eastern navy.

  Aside from the belt, and deceptively light cloth shoes, the clothing came off in a single piece that covered the arms, legs, and torso; it fastened with hooks and eyelets in the front. The whole seemed more suitable for sleep than work, except for the fabric itself. It looked and felt like cotton but with a strange, diagonal double-weave that made it thick, tough, and resistant to tearing. Dyed indigo, it hid most stains, including whatever droplets of blood Tae might have missed. The bottom of the pants flared outward, which, Tae supposed, made them easy to doff in an emergency. It also allowed the wearer to roll them all the way above the knee should warm weather or wet conditions require it.

  Matrinka had suggested Tae wear captured clothing from alsona killed in the shore skirmishes. Now, Tae was glad he had refused. As he expected, the sailor's garb little resembled the armor of the attacking soldiers, or even their underpadding. It would have taken him much longer to change, because he would have had to doff battle gear, soaked through and unfamiliar in its latching, before dressing. Instead, it took him only a moment to switch clothing, even with his fingers stiff from cold.

  The suit fit reasonably well, a bit generous in all parts, but surprisingly comfortable. The shoes molded to the shape of his feet, skimpy on the sides and top but thickly soled to protect them from riggings and loose bits of wood or metal on the deck. Tae had to add a hole to the belt to keep it from sliding off his hips. He finally glanced at the limp and naked alsona, seeing no signs of life. Imorelda had declared him "practically dead," and Tae trusted the cat's judgment. The wound was clearly lethal. Even if he had survived it, the impact with ocean would finish him, and he would sink like a stone without means to protect his airway.

  Tae knew he had to work quickly. As the sun came fully up, his actions might become visible to the alsona aboard the other ships. Careful not to tip his own balance, he shoved the body into the sea. The plop of its landing disappeared beneath the normal creaks and splashes of anchored ships.

  Tae motioned for Imorelda to climb back onto his shoulders, and she obeyed. He rechecked his wig, still firmly and properly in place. As he inched to the gunwale, wary of nearby soldiers or sailors who might see him emerge from nowhere, he whispered to the cat. "As soon as we're on board, secrete yourself. Don't let anyone see you, but stay near enough to funnel their mind-words to me. Also, be prepared to leave suddenly."

  Without waiting for acknowledgment, Tae popped over the railing, dropped Imorelda to the deck, and tried to appear nonchalant.

  Almost immediately, a guttural curse and a set of squeaky wheels broke over the normal sounds of the ship. Tae could hear the sailors' mental chatter, instinctively sifting out mood and content. They spoke of normal, mundane matters; if the general's meeting inconve nienced them in any way, they kept their grumblings private, softly spoken by mouth.

  Heart pounding, Tae watched the approaching cart and sailor, wondering if he could truly pass himself off as one of them despite his limited vocabulary. If something went wrong, he would have to kill this man, too. With the sun nearly fully risen, and no good place to hide, it would prove a terrible risk.

  The plump, red-faced sailor pushing the cart caught sight of Tae and stopped.

  Tae held his breath.

  "Do you mind giving me a hand?" The voice held just a hint of irritation, as if he had expected Tae to volunteer rather than wait for an invitation.

  "Not at all." Tae mimicked the accent with practiced ease and headed toward the sailor. "Is it going to the generals' meeting?"

  "Yeah." The sailor grunted as they both put their hands on the bar. "Can't discuss strategy without stuffing their faces with the best we've got."

  Tae chuckled. The problem had less to do with the weight of the cart than its poor construction and maintenance. The wheels needed oil.

  The alsona glanced over at Tae. "I've never seen you before. Did you come with one of the generals?"

  Tae continued to read tone as well as words. The man seemed curious, not accusatory, but Tae still felt his chest squeeze. "Yes." He described one of the men he had seen coming in the rowboats. "Tall guy. Narrow face. Short beard."

  "General Fallon?"

  Tae sure hoped he wasn't being tested. "You know him?"

  The plump man spit. "Know them all by now. It's not like there're a lot of them." He stopped pushing and motioned for Tae to do the same. "Thanks. Can you make sure it doesn't roll while I open the hatch?"

  "Sure," Tae said. He got an idea. "In fact, I'll carry the food down for you, if you want to get back to doing other things."

  Hand on the hatch ring, the sailor turned toward Tae. "Really? You'd do that."

  "Why not? You're working, and I'm doing nothing but waiting."

  "All right." The sailor smiled. "Thanks. That would be great." He hesitated. "Oh, hell. I'm going to be honest with you. They're hard to please."

  Tae shrugged. "I'll deal with it."

  "You're sure?"

  "I'm sure. I'm used to serving General Fallon. I know how they think."

  "Thanks." The sailor hauled on the hatch. Only faint mumbling emerged from below. Apparently, the generals conversed aloud to keep their discussion private. From Tae's experiences the last several days, he had expected that. This once, it would work to his advantage; he would not need Imorelda's help to eavesdrop. "I owe you."

  Tae prepared to ease the basket of foodstuffs and wine from the cart.

  "I can help you, at least," the sailor offered, still apparently feeling guilty.

  Tae hesitated. He did not know exactly how to keep the generals talking with him in the room, aside from requests, demands, and complaints about the foodstuffs and his service. The only thought that came to him would involve an act Imorelda and Matrinka would call "exceedingly stupid"; but, first, he needed to learn a new phrase in the alsona's language.

  Tae hefted the basket, finding it heavier than he expected, and deliberately placed himself into the sailor's path. As he intended, the sailor bumped him. Tae exaggerated the impact, stumbling several steps and juggling the basket.

  The sailor apologized, catching hold of the basket to steady it in Tae's grasp. Tae focused on the sailor's words and tone as he tried to make the simple act of catching his balance look difficult.

  "That's all right." Tae glanced down the open hatch, eyes widening. "I probably only would have broken my neck."

  The sailor gave a more profuse apology, bowing slightly as he did so. "I really am sorry. Why don't I just do it?"

  Tae waved him off. "I've got it, and I'm fine. If you could just close the hatch behind me, please."

  "Sure. Least I can do."

  Tae took a solid grip on the basket. He moved confidently now, not wanting the sailor to insist on taking the job back. He now knew how to apologize, and he expected to do a whole lot of that in the next few moments. He edged down
the ladder, placing his feet as carefully as possible. As his head went below the deck, the sailor gently and quietly closed the hatch.

  As he did so, something soft brushed Tae's cheek. He stiffened for an instant before dismissing it as a wad of dust or a cobweb, a last breath of wind funneled through the closing hatch. Then, something scraped against his right ankle. Tae twisted away from it. The momentum of the basket threw off his usually impeccable timing. His foot touched down on empty air instead of the rung he expected. His free hand caught another too hard, slamming painfully against iron, and he felt himself starting to fall.

  Instinctively, Tae let go of the basket to secure his hand- and toeholds. Abruptly realizing he might garner a bit more sympathy and less rage if he went down with it, he went against every survival trick he ever knew and followed the plummeting basket.*Look out!* he tried to send in warning.

  Bottled wine, bread, and crockery tumbled from the falling basket, bouncing from the iron rungs. Glass chimed against metal. Splashed with bits of glass and droplets of liquid, Tae covered his face and throat as he fell, hoping to land as nearly on his feet as possible.

  Tae hit the ground hard, tumbling through a mess of butter, squashing a fine white loaf, and feeling hunks of glass pressing into his skin. He landed, face first, in the basket, which skidded across the floor.

  A deafening silence followed.

  Careful not to dislodge his wig, Tae freed himself from the basket to look at the generals. The nearest three had leaped from their seats, wine puddling at their feet. Four remained at a large table that contained three oil lamps and a large map of the southern, eastern, and western coasts of Tae's continent. Tae's gaze lingered longest on the being at the head of the table. Seated, he towered over the others, even the standing generals. Tae guessed he was at least half again as tall as King Griff. He had coarse features, his nose obscenely broad and bulbous, his ears as big as a man's hand, and his jaw as wide as the top of his head. He stared at Tae through narrowed dark eyes, his wide lips drawn tight in a frown.