‘Curse the Mieren,’ Ardonyx muttered. ‘Not content with stealing a king’s ransom in cargo, they’ve stripped my girls and defiled them!’
In a matter of moments, the others joined them, reporting much the same thing. Deeply indignant, they were eager to begin cleaning the ship that very night.
‘Open all the windows and doors to let her air overnight. Check the Spring-cusp, I don’t doubt they’ve defiled her, too.’ Ardonyx said. ‘Tomorrow’s soon enough to clean them. Tonight, we’ll make do in the warehouse.’
But he seemed shaken and deep in thought when they returned to that rickety building and their people, who were disappointed to hear the ships could not be used. They had to pack the T’En and all the Malaunje, those who came with them from city, and All-father Tamaron’s people into the dilapidated warehouse.
Ardonyx was distracted, so Tobazim divided the building into areas for Malaunje and T’En. He asked Paravia’s friend, Tia, to make sure the fire was built up and the women and children from the other brotherhood had enough blankets and food.
Meanwhile, the sailors set up private alcoves for the T’En initiates and adepts in a corner, using stacked stores to make partitions. They unpacked the provisions for the night. Soon they had the small travelling braziers fired up, and the smell of sizzling onion, lamb strips and beans filled the air.
When this was done, Tobazim went out to check on the wharf. There were half a dozen ramshackle buildings, all in worse order than this one. The horses had been quartered in one. The sea flanked the wharf on two sides, a cliff cut off the third, and on the fourth, the harbour-master’s strongarms maintained a vigil at the barricade. It was not perfect, but it would have to do.
He noticed someone on the deck of the smaller sisterhood ship. If more Malaunje arrived before Ardonyx’s ships were ready, he’d have to ask the sisterhood for help housing them all.
Tobazim returned to the warehouse, where he told Ionnyn and Haromyr to select five men and take the first watch.
‘Wake us for the midnight to dawn watch. I’ll feel safer when we are aboard the ships.’
Chapter Thirty-One
TOBAZIM PULLED HIS cloak more securely around him and walked the wharf in the pre-dawn chill. Despite his lack of sleep, he felt amazingly alert. He hadn’t used his gift for days; it had built up. He tapped into it now, to enhance his sight, but it was like picking at a scab, more pain than pleasure.
There was just enough light to discern the uneven ground and ramshackle buildings. He made his way through the abandoned sheds towards the point where the barricade met the cliff, then he walked the perimeter. Each time he passed one of his people he stopped and spoke softly with them, before moving on.
When he came to the point where the cliff met the wharf, Ardonyx was waiting. Stairs went down here to a floating jetty. There was another set of stairs and floating jetty on the far side of the wharf where the barricade met the sea. Tobazim felt exposed: despite the barricade on one side, there were too many points of access to make the wharf defensible. They headed back towards the warehouse.
As they reached the end of the building, they heard a soft shuffle and a murmur. They both hesitated.
Tobazim was in the lead. He crept to the corner and looked up the side of the building towards the barricade. Three of the harbour-master’s men were coming this way.
Tobazim placed a hand on Ardonyx’s arm and gift-shared what he’d seen. Then he crept around the corner and down the side of the warehouse. He pressed his back against the wall, risking a quick glance around the corner. At least thirty Mieren had gathered between the warehouse and the barricade, near the building’s entrance. Tobazim’s gift surged as it tried to come to his defence; he forced it down.
‘Quiet now,’ someone warned. Tobazim recognised the voice of the man they’d paid for the Malaunje women and children. ‘I’ve sent some of my boys to deal with their sentries. The ones inside will be sleeping. We’ll cut their throats, remove those silver arm-torcs, buckles and knife hilts, throw their bodies in the sea and divvy up the goods.’
‘And if we’re asked, we didn’t see a thing,’ another of the Mieren added. Tobazim recognised the leader of the harbour-master’s men.
Tobazim and Ardonyx drew back, crept down the side of the warehouse and around the corner.
‘We should warn the sentries.’
‘They’re supposed to be on guard. We have to warn our people inside the warehouse,’ Ardonyx whispered. ‘But the Mieren block the only door.’
Tobazim’s gift rose. ‘There’s another way in.’
He ran to the far back corner of the warehouse. Drawing his knife, he placed it between the loose boards and levered them apart. Rotten wood crumbled.
He tore off several more boards and was about to slip inside, when Ardonyx grabbed his arm. ‘You make sure the Malaunje women and children get out safely. I’ll lead the defence.’
His instinct was to fight alongside Ardonyx, but they had a duty to protect the Malaunje.
Inside the warehouse, it was very dark. The fire had burned down to coals. The Mieren could open the door any moment, creep in and start cutting throats.
Ardonyx headed towards the far end, where the T’En slept near the entrance. Tobazim stepped over a sleeping child and shook the shoulder of the first adult he could find. His gift was riding him, and the young woman woke with a gasp.
He covered her mouth and whispered, ‘The Mieren have come back. Wake the children quietly and come with me. Hurry.’
She sprang to her knees, leaning over two sleeping children to wake her companion. Tobazim woke the the next adult he could find. ‘Get up. Keep quiet. We’re in danger. Bring the children.’
He heard the soft urgings of the women. The children obeyed as quietly as they could, but with so many, there was whispering and stirring. A toddler whimpered and was quickly silenced. If he didn’t get the women and children out before the fighting started, they’d be underfoot. He’d seen the aftermath of a massacre; he didn’t want to see it again.
Tobazim could hear soft scuffling and weapons being unsheathed as Ardonyx prepared the warriors at the far end.
‘What’s going on?’ Tia asked.
‘Cut-throats. They’ll attack any moment. Come.’ Scooping up a small child, Tobazim headed for the opening. ‘This way.’
A muffled shout and the rasp of metal on metal told him the attack had begun. The women and children surged forward, pouring through the gap.
More quickly than he expected, they all made it out. Tobazim found he was surrounded by a sea of frightened children and women carrying infants. Some of the older youths had stayed to help defend the wharf.
Thuds, curses and the clatter of metal on metal came from inside the warehouse. He fought the instinct to go back himself and help.
‘Come.’ He led around forty women and children through the dilapidated buildings towards the nearest sentry, only to find a body in a pool of blood.
As he made for the next man, Maric came running towards him.
‘The Mieren–’
‘I know. Alert the other sentries, then go help Ardonyx.’
‘What about the women and children?’
What about them? They’d be trapped between the sea and the cliff, if Ardonyx failed to hold back the Mieren. ‘The sisterhood ship will take them. You go.’
He went.
‘This way.’ Tobazim led them to the end of the wharf where it met the cliff. He beckoned Lysarna and Tia. ‘Take them down the steps to the floating jetty. Signal the sisterhood ship from there.’
He left them, running back through the sheds towards the warehouse. As he rounded a corner, he ran into Maric and several others. They were heading for the warehouse entrance.
‘No, this way.’ Tobazim led them towards the gap in the back wall.
From the warehouse, he could hear only muffled shouts and thuds. It was an oddly quiet fight, compared with the night the Mieren had invaded the city.
; With the others just behind him, Tobazim ducked into the warehouse. Some of the stores were alight. Illuminated by leaping flames, he saw a jumble of struggling bodies. In the confusion, he couldn’t spot Ardonyx.
Frustration made his gift surge. He forced it down, drew his long-knives and charged, yelling at the top of his voice, with the others at his heels.
The arrival of reinforcements startled the Mieren. Finding themselves attacked on two fronts, many made a dash for the front door. Tobazim ignored them, concentrating on finding Ardonyx.
He slashed and cut, feeling meat and bone part beneath his blade.
The fight had abruptly gone out of the Mieren. Cutting throats while people slept was more their style. Now they just wanted to get out with their skins. The last five turned and ran. His people gave chase.
Tobazim shoved past Ionnyn, to find Ardonyx slumped and bleeding. Seeing him injured made Tobazim’s gut tighten.
Ardonyx frowned. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Saving your skin.’
Ardonyx grinned then toppled forward.
Horrified, Tobazim dragged him into their makeshift quarters and placed him on a bedroll, then lit the lamp. The worst of the injuries was a wound in Ardonyx’s belly, and they had no sawbones.
His first thought was not what would the brotherhood do without Captain Ardonyx, but what would he do without Ardonyx?
IMOSHEN DREAMED OF fighting Mieren. Fierce, snarling faces lunged at her. She blocked and swung, then blocked and failed. A stabbing stomach pain woke her.
Rolling out of bed, she bent double. When she pulled her hands away she expected to find them covered in blood. Nothing.
‘What is it?’ Frayvia whispered, coming over to join her.
For an instant she couldn’t make sense of her dream. Then... ‘Ardonyx is hurt. Mieren must have attacked his party.’
Frayvia guided her back to bed. ‘Can you reach him?’
She tried. ‘The distance is too great. Besides, he’s wounded. His focus will be turned inward.’
Ardonyx wounded... she hunched over in pain. It would be too cruel if he was killed now. What would she do without his cool head and knowledge of the sea?
TOBAZIM CURSED AND covered Ardonyx’s wound with a blanket, applying pressure to slow the bleeding. ‘Athlyn!’
The youth came running.
‘Keep pressure on his wound.’
Springing to his feet, Tobazim strode out. In a matter of moments, he had fresh lamps lit and had ordered Malaunje to patrol the barricade. He sent Eryx to ensure the women and children were safe on the sisterhood ship and to find out if either ship had a sawbones on board.
Then Haromyr and Ionnyn revealed the captives. Two Mieren huddled in a corner near the door. Both were injured. One would not last out the day. The other watched him fearfully.
‘Shall I slit their throats?’ Haromyr asked.
Tobazim was tempted.
‘No, we don’t want more Mieren deaths on our hands.’ He hadn’t killed anyone tonight, merely driven them off with wild blows and intimidation, and he wasn’t going to start killing now. He didn’t want the angry shades of dead Mieren trying to drag him onto the higher plane. Not when the shades of those Mieren his men had killed would already be coming for them. Weakened by his wound, Ardonyx was in no state to defend himself. Tobazim would have to protect them all.
Haromyr still waited for orders.
‘Take these two outside. They can keep their dead company.’
Cold and furious, he went over to survey his party’s dead: two of his Malaunje, both inexperienced warriors. One of the young initiates had a head wound that made him see double, but he would be fine in a day or so. The rest of their injured were still able to function.
Tobazim went outside into the cool grey of dawn.
Here Ionnyn and Haromyr had laid out the bodies of the dead Mieren, six in all. One was the leader of the harbour-master’s guards. That pleased Tobazim. He had a bone to pick with Hersegel. The injured man who was still conscious pressed his hand to his side and winced. Blood seeped through his fingers. His companion managed to rouse himself enough to moan for water.
‘What would you have us do?’ Haromyr asked.
‘Bind the injured Mieren’s wounds. Give them both water.’
He returned to the warehouse, where he met a Malaunje sawbones, and a boy he assumed was her assistant. He took them in to see Ardonyx, who was pale but conscious.
‘Toresal,’ Ardonyx said. ‘You’re safe.’
‘Cap’n.’ The boy threw himself on Ardonyx’s chest, weeping with joy.
‘Here.’ Tobazim peeled the lad off his captain. ‘Give the healer room to work.’
While the lad asked after his shipmates from the Autumn-moon, Tobazim watched the saw-bones work. Tonight had made several things clear to him. They could not trust the Mieren; he would have to make the wharf secure himself. And he could not face life in Kyredeon’s brotherhood without Ardonyx at his side. But he wasn’t sure if Ardonyx felt the same way.
When she was done, the healer came to her feet. The boy remained by Ardonyx’s side, holding his hand. Tobazim thanked the sawbones, and walked her and the lad to the warehouse door. Mist clung to the wharf, illuminated by shafts of dawn sunlight. ‘How is he?’
‘He won’t be dancing for a while, but he’ll live. Send for me if he develops a fever.’
He thanked her and told Eryx to escort her back to the sisterhood ship, then sent the lad to join the sailors, who had begun to clean the ships.
Finally, Tobazim knelt next to Ardonyx. ‘How do you feel?’
‘Wonderful.’ Ardonyx rolled his eyes. ‘What’s been going on?’
Tobazim began to outline the situation, but Ardonyx passed out before he was halfway through.
Cold fury gripped Tobazim. This should never have happened.
Unable to sit still with his gift riding him, he sprang to his feet and strode outside. ‘Hitch up a cart. I’m going to see the harbour-master. Ionnyn and Haromyr, come with me.’
They threw the bodies of the dead into the cart, helped the injured man climb up, then placed his unconscious companion in his arms before setting off.
Almost no one was stirring in the narrow lanes of the rats-nest. In the more prosperous trading quarter, shopkeepers’ apprentices were opening shutters and sweeping door steps. The smell of fresh bread made Tobazim’s stomach knot in hunger.
By the time they reached the harbour-master’s building, it had clouded over. As soon the cart stopped, Tobazim jumped down. ‘Haromyr, bring the injured one.’
He sorted through the dead until he found the leader of the guards and threw the body over his shoulder. He turned to Haromyr. ‘Ready?’
‘Ready.’ The injured Mieren shook so badly he could not stand, and Haromyr had to carry him.
Empowered by anger, Tobazim strode up the steps. He arrived at the harbour-master’s door to find Hersegel was an early riser. The four clerks froze. Their eyes widened as Tobazim strode across and dumped the body of the harbour-master’s strongarm on his desk. All the Mieren drew back, and he realised they could sense his gift. He didn’t care.
‘What’s this?’ the harbour-master blustered. ‘You’ve murdered my man?’
‘Your man tried to slit our throats while we slept. Is that how the Mieren honour their king’s truce?’
‘Not on my orders, they didn’t.’
‘Then who ordered it?’ Tobazim gestured to the injured Mieren. ‘Ask him.’
The harbour-master looked relieved. ‘I’ve never seen him before in my life.’
Tobazim signalled Haromyr. ‘Bring him here.’
Tobazim caught the back of the injured Mieren’s neck, bringing him forward and turning him to face Hersegel. ‘Fifteen silver coins were not enough for this greedy brigand and his companions. As I see it, they convinced your strongarms to join them and rob us–’
‘He lies!’ The injured Mieren ducked from under Tobazim’s hand, flung hi
mself around the desk where he fell to his knees, clutching the harbour-master’s hand. ‘They tried to break out. We were only defending ourselves–’
Tobazim gave a bark of laughter. ‘If so, why were you at the barricade when you weren’t one of Hersegel’s men? And why would we break out when every Mieren in port hates us? Don’t you understand we want to leave this forsaken land?’
And he realised he meant it.
Boots thundered on the stairs as five burly Mieren spilled into the office, their weapons drawn.
Tobazim drew his long-knives, even though he knew fighting his way out and back to Ardonyx was impossible. Haromyr took up position at his back.
Levering himself out of the chair, the harbour-master came to his feet. He kicked the injured Mieren aside and beckoned his guards. ‘Get rid of this fool.’
They hesitated, casting worried glances to Tobazim and his companions.
‘The Wyrds have been wronged,’ the harbour-master announced. ‘I want another dozen strongarms–’
‘No.’ Tobazim returned his knives to their sheaths. ‘No more hired thugs. I want the king’s men on the barricade. We are under his protection.’
Hersegel lifted his hands. ‘You’ll have to speak to the king’s agent about that.’
‘I will. And...’ Tobazim faced the harbour-master. ‘If they are any more attacks on our wharf, I’ll hold you personally responsible.’
The man grew pale.
Satisfied for now, Tobazim marched out. He suspected the harbour-master had planned to get his cut after his strongarms had murdered the Wyrds, dumped their bodies in the bay and looted their provisions. If anyone asked, he could say they’d never made it to port.
Tobazim went down the stairs to find anxious Mieren watching from across the road. It struck him that bringing the bodies here had not been the best of moves. Before rumour could take root, he jumped onto the cart seat, and summoned his somewhat rusty Chalcedonian. ‘These Mieren were paid to protect us, yet they tried to slit our throats as we slept. This is what happens to those who raise a hand against us.’ He gestured to Haromyr and Ionnyn. ‘Unload the bodies. They’re our gift to the harbour-master.’
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