by Paul Collins
‘If the emperor orders your father to be on hand, he can’t say no, can he?’ Marko continued.
‘That’d be treason.’
Treason! Dantar started. The whispers from the speaking tube were treason.
‘Something the matter?’ Marko asked.
Should I tell him? wondered Dantar. But what if I misheard? I’d look a fool – and get a flogging – if anyone else found out.
‘Something’s worrying you,’ Marko insisted. ‘I can tell.’
Dantar was starting to shake his head when he heard someone calling orders – and recognised a voice from the speaking tube. He turned, very slowly. Leaning on the foredeck rail, calling out instructions to his water shapers as they practised, was Meslit. He was the best water wizard in the fleet, and the emperor himself had said he was worth a dozen warships.
Something about water wizards unsettled Dantar, they always seemed too thin and pale, as if they had been drowned, then brought back to life. Meslit was one of the tallest aboard, and his robes hung from his limbs and shoulders as if they were soaking wet. Marko said that he had earned his reputation fighting pirates around the islands of the Secaster Archipelago, and that some even thought he had fought with the pirates before being recruited by the emperor.
‘You’re looking at Meslit,’ said Marko.
‘Do you smell lamp oil?’ asked Dantar, sniffing and turning his head.
‘Yes, but don’t change the subject.’
‘All right, all right. This will sound silly, but yesterday I was repairing a speaking tube and I heard voices.’
‘Sounds logical.’
‘Ha ha. They were talking about trusting someone, and a traitor. One of them sounded like Meslit.’
‘Meslit?’ gasped Marko, suddenly alert and serious. ‘Who was the other?’
Dantar shook his head. ‘Don’t know. Should I tell somebody?’
Marko frowned. ‘This is important. We’d better ask someone who can be trusted.’
‘Can anyone be trusted?’
‘Gyan can.’
Although Dantar now felt like a rabbit emerging from his burrow while a fox was nearby, sharing the secret with someone else was like having a huge weight lifted from his shoulders. The matter was no longer just his responsibility. He coiled up the rope he had been splicing and placed it on the cover of the loading hatch, then set off across the main deck with Marko. They had taken ten paces when a great ball of flames erupted behind them with a blast so loud and intense that Dantar felt the force, rather than really hearing anything.
They were flung through the air and into a group of marines who were drilling nearby.
Dantar pushed himself up from the deck, shaking his spinning head. Through clouds of acrid smoke reeking of lamp oil, he saw that the hatch cover was now a jagged, smoking hole in the deck. His ears were ringing and as he got to his feet the shouting all around him sounded muted.
Marko was sprawled close by, blood trickling from his nose. Dantar staggered over and dropped to one knee. He’s bleeding, that means his heart is working, thought Dantar. He shook Marko by the shoulders. After a moment Marko opened his eyes, and put a hand to his head.
‘What happened?’ he asked. ‘Dragon?’
‘I think someone tried to assassinate us.’
‘Only important people get assassinated. We sailors get murdered.’
‘But I’m important.’
‘Good point.’
VELZA
A crowd of sailors and marines had gathered at the edge of the hole before Velza reached it.
‘Make way, officer!’ she shouted as she pushed her way past.
Through the smoke, she peered down into the oil store, now a shambles of smashed barrels and broken wood. Pinned under a heavy beam was her father, surrounded by spreading fires. Nearby was a body, dressed in the white tunic of the cook.
‘Find a rope!’ Velza shouted to the sailor beside her. ‘That’s an order!’
Rope is not hard to find aboard a sailing ship, and the man was back in moments.
‘Tie one end to the mainmast, then take the other to the hole,’ she ordered.
Velza tested the knot, then followed the sailor – and saw that Dantar had already climbed down. He was heaving at the beam pinning their father down.
‘Find Meslit, tell him there are fires spreading in the hold!’ shouted Velza to another sailor.
No other officers were nearby, but she could hear orders being shouted in the distance. This was an oil fire, which at any moment could become an oil explosion. The rule was to fetch the water wizards and stand clear, but the seamen gathered around the hole probably could not read and had not studied the rule books.
Velza looked back into the hold. The fire was licking at her father’s boots. In moments his clothing would catch.
Dantar gave up trying to heave the beam off him. ‘No good, no good,’ he cried to the faces peering down at him.
Velza frantically thought of ways to free her father, or at least save his life. Cut his leg off? Too extreme. Order the sailors down into the blazing hold to lift the beam? They were already frightened, and other officers in the distance were shouting at them to stand clear. Wait for Meslit to arrive and put out the fire with water magic? That was the only real option.
‘Where’s Meslit?’ she shouted. ‘Find Meslit!’
The sailors ignored her. Velza felt very uneasy. Officers who were ignored were often murdered, so that those who ignored them would not be executed for mutiny.
‘Pull! Now pull!’
Her brother’s voice was faint but distinct. So that’s why I’m being ignored, they think he’s in command here. As the sailors formed into a line to heave on the rope, Velza looked down into the hold again and saw that Dantar had tied the end of the rope to the beam. The sailors heaved and the beam came up a little – just enough for her father to heave himself free.
Dantar cut the rope from the beam and tied it under his father’s arms.
‘Pull him out! Hurry!’ he cried to the sailors.
As soon as her father was safely out, Velza threw the rope back down.
‘Dantar, climb the rope!’ she cried, but he had collapsed beside the body of Cook.
Flames burn the goodness out of the air, her father had taught her. If that was true, Dantar was suffocating. If she climbed down, she would suffocate too.
‘The rope, hold onto the rope!’ Velza shouted.
‘Dantar! That’s an order!’
Orders have an almost magical effect aboard ships – not obeying orders earns a flogging. With his clothes already burning, Dantar lurched into motion, crawled to the rope and grasped. The sailors began to haul him out, and he was almost within reach of Velza’s hand when a deluge of water crashed down over him, knocking him back into the oil store.
Velza looked up and saw that Meslit and some of his water shapers had conjured a thick, writhing snake of seawater up over the side of the ship and into the burning hold. Dantar had sunk beneath a mixture of burning oil and seawater.
Now how can someone get himself drowned in the middle of a fire? Velza thought angrily. That’s just typical of my stupid little brother.
DANTAR
Dantar woke up in dim light, alone. He recognised the cabin to be one of the tiny infirmary rooms because one of his duties was to clean it. The ship was clearly still afloat, which was a relief. However, the walls were definitely at an angle from what Dantar thought should be vertical, meaning that the ship was listing, which was what ships often did before they sank. That was more of a worry, but it was probably because of all the water poured into the hold to put out the fire. A lamp hung from the deck-head and swung to and fro, casting grotesque shadows on the walls.
He groaned and tried to sit up. One of the grotesque looming shadows became Meslit. His eyes were as cold and intense as those of a cat stalking a bird.
He knows, and only Marko could have told him, thought Dantar.
Dantar tried to scramble off t
he bunk but Meslit was faster. He seized him, pushed him down against the mattress and pressed a hand like steel covered by a silk glove over his mouth. The water wizard leaned closer. The skin of his face was alarmingly white and wrinkled, as if he had spent his entire life submerged. That was the mark of his skill, but it was a seriously disturbing sight.
‘I’m sure you agree that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing, boy,’ he hissed.
Water gushed out of Meslit’s hand and into Dantar’s mouth, as if the bilge-pump hose had been jammed between his lips. He struggled, kicking his legs, but Meslit’s grip was too strong. Water shot from his nose and flooded down his windpipe.
He was drowning. Again.
Dantar tried to punch Meslit, swinging his arms wildly, hitting at anything he could. His struggles weakened, his vision blurred, and again blackness came for him.
Heat, I can feel heat driving back the water, he thought, and there were shadows of claws and wings before his eyes as his mind plunged back into blackness.
Dantar heard voices in the blackness.
‘How is he?’ That was Marko. He sounded worried.
‘He’ll be all right, I think.’
Dantar opened his eyes to find Marko and the ship’s surgeon looking down at him.
‘Ah,’ said the surgeon. ‘You’re awake. Always a good sign.’
Marko ruffled Dantar’s hair. ‘You had us worried,’ he said.
Dantar tried to sit up, and gasped in pain. His side felt like it had been punctured by a mass of needles.
‘You fell onto some broken timber,’ said the surgeon. ‘It will hurt for a while, but I’ve picked the splinters out and applied some oil. What happened in here?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The bunk mattress is soaked.’
Not a dream, thought Dantar. Meslit really did try to drown me, then there was fire everywhere. A fire wizard could do that. Father? There’s a small pile of ash on the floor. Did Father save me by burning Meslit? But we’re at sea. Fire magic doesn’t work at sea. He recalled shadows of wings and claws. A dragon? Who would believe that I have a guardian dragon? Not Marko. Best not to mention it.
‘Sorry, can’t help,’ said Dantar, quite truthfully.
‘Well, get up and report for duty,’ said the surgeon. ‘Others need that bunk.’
‘Any word of my father?’ asked Dantar. ‘Er, that is, Warlock Calbaras?’
‘He was well enough to refuse treatment,’ said the surgeon. ‘Said he had to go into a trance to prepare for the battle, then went to his cabin and locked himself in.’
The surgeon left and Dantar lay back on the wet mattress for a moment, eyeing Marko suspiciously. ‘Meslit tried to kill me, and only you could have told him what I overheard,’ said Dantar.
‘Meslit?’ asked Marko. ‘Where is he?’
‘He, er, had to leave,’ said Dantar, who was very confused about what had happened to Meslit.
‘Dantar, you were raving about Meslit before you woke up. That’s why I took the surgeon outside, so he wouldn’t hear.’
So Meslit might have heard me raving too, but how did he get into the cabin, and out again? wondered Dantar as he got to his feet.
Marko tossed him a sailor’s tunic. ‘Yours was burned. The owner of that one no longer needs it.’
‘What happened? The explosion?’
‘Someone lit a fire in the oil store and it blew up. They were probably trying to sink the ship.’
‘Who?’
‘Well, whoever it was would hardly boast about it, would they? Meslit conjured water out of the ocean to douse the fires. I jumped down, found you unconscious and held your head above the water until help came.’
‘My thanks.’
‘Any time.’
Dantar stared at the older boy. ‘Well, I still think Meslit’s a traitor.’
‘He saved the ship, nobody will listen to you. Speaking of betrayals, your sister reported that you gave orders to sailors above your rank. That’s insolence, which is a flogging offence.’
Dantar sat down on the wet bunk again. He had thought that nothing else could surprise him, but not any more.
‘Oh, and by the way, you’re a hero.’ Dantar blinked. ‘A hero? Me? For what?’ Marko shrugged. ‘You saved the fleet’s battle warlock. Admiral Dalzico is going to recommend you for a commendation.’
Dantar’s eyes went wide. A commendation? ‘Is that a sort of promotion?’ he asked.
‘No, it’s important people’s way of saying thanks without doing very much.’
‘I saved the battle warlock just before a battle, yet I get flogged and I don’t get a promotion?’
‘That’s right.’
Above them, men began shouting urgently.
‘. . . pump the bilge water out before the fighting starts!’
‘I have to go,’ said Marko. He stopped at the door. ‘The battle’s going to be bad, Dantar. Try to stay alive.’
Dantar tried to ignore the pain from his side and back as he struggled into the tunic. Strangely enough, even though his own tunic had been practically burned off his back, there were no burns anywhere on his body.
Looking around the cabin, Dantar noticed that the wall on one side was scorched, except for an unburned, human-shaped patch in the middle. On the floor was damp, greyish ash. Am I looking at Meslit? Dantar wondered. If so, what happened to him?
VELZA
Again Velza stood before the nine officers of the court of marshal-at-arms in the master cabin. Dressed in his full parade uniform, Marshal Florantas d’Civaros was a daunting figure, even seated at the table. He was from a noble family, but unlike many nobles he was a veteran of thirty years at sea on warships, and was highly respected as a warrior. Beside Velza were Dantar and Calbaras. The warlock explained briefly that he had caught Cook in the act of starting a fire in the oil store. He had tried to wrestle Cook’s little lamp away from him, but it was dropped in the struggle and Calbaras only just had time to raise a shield casting before the explosion.
‘I was pinned under debris, however,’ Calbaras concluded. ‘The sailor Dantar climbed down into the wreckage of the store and rescued me.’
‘Learned Calbaras, do you have anything to add to Seaman Dantar’s account of the rescue?’ asked the marshal.
‘No, it was quite accurate.’
‘In that case, thank you, that will be all. Has anyone been able to find Meslit as yet? No? Very well, we shall move on to Squad Captain Velza’s written report on the incident.’
The marshal held up a sheet of reed paper covered in Velza’s neat, flowing script.
‘You, Squad Captain Velza, are a disgrace to the officers aboard this ship,’ he said coldly.
Velza swallowed. She had expected to be commended for getting a rope down into the burning store and sending for Meslit. For a moment she thought he was referring to Dantar, but the marshal had definitely used her name. His attack should have horrified her, but her reaction was instead sheer incomprehension.
‘Your brother’s a hero, an inspiration that every sailor in the fleet should follow, yet you reported that he gave orders to those of superior rank,’ the marshal continued. ‘Due to your rank as an officer, your word will stand. The wounded hero of the oil store explosion must receive five strokes of the cane for insolence. Five lashes, Captain. And on the eve of battle, when we need the goodwill and loyalty of our sailors and marines. What have you to say for yourself?’
Being forced to defend herself was so totally unexpected that Velza floundered for words. Dantar had ordered the sailors to pull on the rope. Technically, he should have asked her to give the orders. That was what the rules said.
‘I, ah, reported exactly what happened,’ she said, her words soft and halting.
‘The breach was so petty that any other officer would not have mentioned it!’ shouted the marshal, slamming his fist down on the table.
‘Shapecaster Latsar, step forward. Were there any minor details in your report on Shapeca
ster Pandas that you could have included but did not?’
After frowning in thought for a moment, Latsar said, ‘Yes, Sir.’
‘Indeed? Explain.’
‘Pandas knows little of weapons. He might have shot himself without realising the bolt would go right through his foot and pin him to the deck.’
‘Why did you not say as much at the inquest?’
‘In my judgement, Pandas is not a coward, and I know he would never desert. Why confuse the court with speculation?’
‘Squad Captain Velza, what do you say to that?’ asked the marshal. ‘Shapecaster Latsar exercised judgement. Can you exercise judgement?’
‘I – I may have mistaken a plea for help by Dantar as an order. I’m willing to change –’
‘You will change nothing!’ the marshal shouted. ‘We go into battle in a matter of hours, and the sailors and marines must trust their officers absolutely. Officers never make a wrong decision or change their minds.’
‘Yes, Sir,’ said Velza, her voice barely a whisper.
‘Deckhand Third Class Dantar, you must be flogged,’ said the marshal. ‘Five lashes of the cane, it is the law. Please accept my apologies.’
‘Sir!’ said Dantar smartly.
‘Word of this stupidity has spread, and I must repair the damage. Squad Captain Velza, consider yourself unattached and assigned to liaison work on the quarterdeck. Shapecaster Latsar, you are promoted to squad captain and assigned Shapecaster Pandas to command.’
Latsar betrayed me! thought Velza. That handsome, dashing son of landed gentry betrayed me to get my command! A simple ‘No, Sir’ would have saved me. I was only being accurate.
‘Deckhand Third Class Dantar, I know you can read,’ the marshal was saying. ‘Do you know any mathematics?’
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘Addition, multiplication, vectors?’
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘Name three navigation instruments.’
‘Cross bar, triangulant and logline, Sir.’