Taghri's Prize

by Peter Grant

  “Doesn’t sound like it. How full was the harbor when you were there?”

  “Eight large vessels alongside, sir, and four open berths. I talked with other sailors in the taverns, gathering information. They said the most they’ve seen is fourteen big ships, some of them berthed outboard of others. They say there’s normally several berths free, but the section for the smaller ships is usually packed pretty full with coasting craft, sir.”

  “Is there room for ships to turn around in the harbor?”

  “Yes, sir. Sailing vessels are usually towed around by bedans, or, if they’re big enough to need it, by a patrol galley.”

  Taghri thought for a moment. “We’ll take both baghlahs, each towing a bedan behind it, and one boum. The second boum will wait here. We’ll leave a few guards to stop the fishermen carrying a warning to Quwain. Our lightly wounded men can do that job. We’ll rendezvous back here the day after the raid.”

  “Got it, sir.”

  “Please do a bigger, more detailed drawing of the harbor, showing everything you’ve just told me. Use charcoal to draw it on a piece of sailcloth, and make it big enough for a group of people to stand around it and see what’s going on. I’ve got to get a couple of hours’ sleep – I’m dead on my feet. Have someone wake me at the fourth hour of the afternoon, and tell them to make sure I wake up. Summon all your officers, and all my troop sergeants, to meet with me soon after that. We’re going to make plans.”

  “Yes, sir! What about refilling your pack saddles?”

  “That’s no longer necessary. Have some of your sailors begin loading all our saddles and pack saddles aboard the boum that’s going to stay here. Leave only enough riding saddles ashore for half a dozen horses, in case of need. Also, take all the naphtha off the pack saddles before you load them. We’re going to need every drop we’ve got. We’re going to leave our horses here.”

  “But… sir, I don’t understand. Won’t the Army object to us abandoning over a hundred of them?”

  “We can’t take them aboard our ships, so we’ve no choice; but we took a hundred and thirty from Qisha, which will more than make up for those we leave here. They’re already on their way back to Samha. I’m sorry, but I’ve got to sleep, so don’t ask more questions now. You’ll be able to do that later.”

  As the sun sank towards the horizon, Taghri finished his briefing. He laid down the stick he’d used to point out salient features on the sail-drawn map, and asked, “Any more questions?”

  For a moment, no-one said anything. Many looked stunned, as if they’d been hit over the head and lost their senses. At last Patrol Sergeant Othmar said slowly, “Sir, this is… it’s such a big plan, and there are so many things that can go wrong, and we’ve had no chance to train for any of it. What if we fail, sir?”

  Taghri shrugged. “If we fail, we’re probably going to die there; but I see no reason why we should. Remember, we’re not approaching this like an orthodox military attack. We’re going to throw a bucket of sand in the enemy’s eyes. We’ll wait until things are quiet, then split up into our teams and get to work. The enemy will find so many things going wrong, all at once, all over the place, that he won’t know at first how or where to react. By the time he figures it out and starts to respond, we’ll already be blocking most of the ways he can reach us.

  “Over the past few weeks of training we learned to think on our feet, to be flexible in dealing with problems rather than getting confused when things don’t go as they’re supposed to. We’ve proved we can work like that in one attack already, but I doubt whether the garrison and the townsfolk can do the same. They’ve developed fixed habits and routines over years, perhaps over decades. They’ll have to shake loose from that mindset before they have any hope of stopping us – and I don’t think they can. We’re going to ride chaos and confusion like a swimmer rides a wave on his way to the beach. They’re going to get bowled over by the wave.”

  More and more heads nodded as he spoke. He felt an inward glow. They trusted him, and because of that, they were willing to take risks that many conventional military subordinates would have regarded as suicidal.

  He fielded a few more questions, then waited, but no more came. At last he said, “All right. You know the skills each section will need. Divide your men among yourselves, and start planning. If you can’t agree on something, come and see me and I’ll decide. Remind your men that we can’t possibly provide detailed plans, only broad outlines. They’ll know what to do, but we won’t tell them exactly how to do it. We’ll all work that out on the fly during the attack. Make sure everyone’s weapons are in good order, and get them anything else they need before we leave. There won’t be another opportunity.

  “Warn your men again that I won’t tolerate private looting, rape, or anything else that might delay us. Our only hope of success is to get in, attack fast, and get out of there before the enemy can get organized and stop us. Time wasted on anything else risks all of us. I won’t tolerate it. I warned before that I’ll execute anyone who disobeys this order. Remind your men of that. I mean it.

  “Finally, I know almost all of us are devotees of Hobal, the god of war, or Suhal, the god of the sea. By all means, ask their blessing before we go into action: but also ask the protection of Kokat, goddess of chaos and uncertainty. This attack’s going to be full of both, so we can use her help. I have a funny feeling that if we ask, Kokat will give us victory. Don’t neglect to do so, and tell your men to do the same.”

  Taghri asked Elhac to remain behind after the others left. “One last thing. Tell the captains of the ships, but no others yet, that after we attack, we won’t go back to Alconteral. It would be too hard to explain our loot there. We’re going to get rid of it here.” He pointed to a port marked on the chart, on the far side of the gulf, three days’ sail from Quwain. “They won’t ask questions there, and they’ll have a market for those spices you mentioned. We’ll gather there, sell everything, and load the money aboard our ships before going home. That way, there’ll be no evidence in Alconteral to link us to the raid, so long as our people keep their mouths shut.”

  “They will, sir. They all know to do that. I’ll make sure the captain of each ship knows where we’re going, and how to get there, and check that they all have enough supplies for the journey.”

  Taghri snorted. “If they don’t, we’ll get more supplies at Quwain. I’m sure we can persuade them to be generous.”

  10

  The patrol galley swept up to the boum, turned in a wide half-circle, and slid alongside. The skipper called, “Hello again! You’re back a lot faster than I expected.”

  Elhac waved from the poop of the boum. “Greetings, Nasim. Yes, I was lucky enough to meet my two ships further up the coast, on their way to Duqa.” He indicated the two big baghlahs in his ship’s wake. “Since you need their cargoes even more, and your merchants are willing to pay for them, I told them to follow me to Quwain.”

  The galley’s captain shook his head. “There’s a problem. There’s some sort of raid going on inland. The garrison has sent almost all its troops to intercept them, and most of our patrol crews have been sent up the hill to man the walls in their place. We’re the only galley on duty, and once we moor tonight, we’ll be joining the others. Most of the port workers are on the walls too, including the bedan crews. There’s no-one to tow you through the entrance channel, or help you berth. You’ll have to anchor in the bay until tomorrow, and maybe longer.”

  Elhac grimaced. “The wind’s getting up. It won’t be comfortable riding at anchor tonight. Can we tow ourselves inside? You notice both my baghlahs are pulling their own bedans, because they often have to tow themselves into or out of confined bays and harbors while trading. We won’t need to unload our cargoes tonight; we’ll wait until the harbor workers come back, however long that takes. I’ll keep the crews aboard my ships and out of your way until the trouble’s over.”

  “Well… I shouldn’t let you, really…”

  Elhac reach
ed for the purse at his waist and picked up a couple of gold diracs, tossing them suggestively in his hand. “And if I pay for the privilege?”

  “Well, that’s different! Sure, use your bedans. I’ll tow your boum in first with this galley, if you like, while your baghlahs are getting organized. We’ll help you berth, then you can use your crew to tie up the baghlahs.”

  “Which berths?”

  “I’ll put you on the port side of the harbor.”

  Elhac shook his head. The port side was the inner edge of the breakwater, requiring a long journey around the harbor’s perimeter to reach the buildings. Slaves laden with cargo would take much longer to cover that distance. Much better if they could berth on the starboard side of the basin, right next to the warehouses.

  “Can you find room for us on the starboard side? I don’t mind paying extra for that.”

  The galley skipper flashed a big grin. “You’re speaking my language again! Two gold coins per ship to enter harbor, and one more per ship for a warehouse berth.”

  “Agreed!”

  “Good. Let’s get to work.”

  Elhac almost felt sorry for the patrol galley skipper. Allowing the three ships to berth this evening would almost certainly lead to Nasim’s execution the following day, once the magnitude of his misjudgment became apparent. He shrugged mentally. Oh, well… if you joined a military service, you were putting your life on the line whether you liked it or not. Nasim would shortly – and very briefly – be forcibly reminded of that.

  Taghri peered over the bulwarks as the baghlah was hauled in to the dockside and its lines made fast. He was dressed as a common seaman, but his inept handling of lines and sails would have marked him as a rank tyro to anyone watching from the shore. It was a good thing they couldn’t see most of the soldiers below decks, either. They were still green with seasickness, despite a relatively calm voyage. Fortunately, most of those who’d normally have thronged the dockside weren’t there, thanks to the raiding crisis inland. He grinned to himself. Nothing like distracting the enemy, then sneaking in behind their backs – literally.

  He glanced up and down the quay. Most of the warehouses were closed and locked, business being over for the day. The huge auction warehouse was no more than fifty feet away, its doors padlocked against entry. He looked around for guards, but saw none. Surely the harbor authorities would not have withdrawn them all to help guard the walls? On the other hand, if they were convinced that the only threat right now came from landward, perhaps they’d decided to risk it. He grinned again. If they had, he might have to write them a letter of thanks when this was all over.

  He stayed on deck, leaning against the bulwark as the bedan pulled alongside and its crew secured it to the larger ship. Instead of trailing astern as before, it was now made fast amidships, where its crew could rapidly man it and cast off the mooring lines. The small craft would be very busy in a short time.

  Elhac walked along the quayside from where his boum was moored, and ran up the gangplank. He came over to where Taghri leaned, and said softly, “So far, so good, sir.”

  “Yes. It looks even better than I’d hoped. There’s almost no-one on the waterfront.”

  The former slave gave a short laugh. “That’ll change in a heartbeat once we get to work, sir.”

  “Yes, it will. I think we’re going to work harder tonight than we ever have in our lives before. Still, if this goes right, most of us will also end up richer than we’ve ever been in our lives before.”

  “That’ll make up for the hard work, sir, and then some.”

  “We’ll take our cue from you, because you know harbors in general, and this harbor in particular, better than any of us. Our teams will be ready and waiting from the ninth hour of the evening. As soon as you think it’s quiet enough, walk along the quayside like you’ve just done and call to the sailors on watch. They’ll open the hatches, and we’ll get to work.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  The tension below decks was almost physically tangible by the time Elhac returned. The teams had long since divided themselves into their groups, checked their weapons and equipment, and prepared themselves. The long, silent wait grew more and more unbearable as the minutes passed.

  At last they heard a faint call from the quayside, replied to by the petty officer in charge of the watch on deck. They heard running footsteps, and the tarpaulin covering the grate over the hold was pulled aside. A head looked down, teeth and eyes gleaming faintly. “It’s time, sir!”

  “Then get that grate off, and let’s get to work!”

  “Aye, sir!”

  Eager hands pulled and pushed the grate off the hold, and the men inside climbed hastily-made ladders onto the deck. Taghri thought, as he climbed, that it was a good thing the harbor officials had all been preoccupied with the supposed threat from landward. If anyone had inspected the hold to check the quality of the “trade goods” Elhac had supposedly brought, he would have been in for a nasty surprise – albeit a brief one.

  Taghri paused on deck, watching as the other groups trotted down the gangplank to the quay or went over the side to the bedan moored alongside. His own group waited beside him, almost hopping from foot to foot, so eager was their anticipation – not to mention their desire to get off the ship that had made so many of them seasick. “Slow down,” he warned them sharply. “Don’t rush this! Take your time.”

  At last all the other groups had dispersed, and those from the other baghlah and the boum had done likewise. Taghri grinned. “All right, let’s go!”

  He led his men down the gangplank, up the quay and around to the back of the auction warehouse. Already some of the slaves were stirring, sitting up beneath their skimpy shelters, staring over the wall at the strange sight of groups of armed men running around so late at night.

  Taghri strode up to the entrance to the slave enclosure, trying to look as if he had every right to be there and issue orders. “You there! Sentry! Open this gate!”

  “B – but, sir, we aren’t supposed to open it until morning! By whose authority?”

  “By this authority!” Taghri drew the dagger from his belt and rammed it into the sentry’s chest. He gurgled, clutching at it, staggering, trying desperately to get enough breath to shout a warning; but Taghri seized his throat in an iron grip, crushing his larynx, smothering any sound before it could emerge. He tossed the man’s jerking, shuddering body to one side, withdrawing his dagger as he did so.

  Even as he’d acted, more of his men had taken care of the remaining sentries in the guardroom. One emerged with a big bunch of keys. “Got them, sir!”

  “Good man. Open the gate!”

  The lock was soon dealt with, and the men hurried inside. The man with the keyring moved from row to row, unlocking the padlock that held a chain to a post. Each chain ran through rings on the ankle irons of up to a score of slaves, some almost naked, others wearing rags of clothing. They stared numbly, not understanding what was going on.

  The time for silence was past. Taghri raised his voice. “All those who were officers before you were enslaved, stand up!” Slowly, disbelievingly, about thirty men rose to their feet. “Listen to me! We’re here to release you. We’ve got ships in the harbor. We’re going to loot the auction warehouse, set fire to the docks and the merchant quarter, and get out of here before the garrison can react. If you help us, we’ll give you passage to a free port, and five silver staters each to make a fresh start. If you don’t want to help us, you’ll have to decide what to do for yourselves. You can wait here for the garrison to lock you up again – if they don’t kill you out of hand, that is – or you can try to escape along the shore.

  “You’ve only got a few minutes to decide. We’re going to get to work right away. You officers, help your people make a choice. Those who want to help us and go with us, form up on that side of the enclosure. The rest of you, form up on the other side. Move!”

  The slaves’ murmurs grew to an uproar as they turned to look at each other and the o
fficers among them, gesturing incredulously, demanding more answers. Taghri stepped back to let their officers handle it. They’d been with these men long enough to know how to get through to them.

  A burly man thrust through the crowd and came up to him. “Sir, I’m Kamil. I was owner and Master of a ghanjah out of Duqa. We were taken by pirates four months ago. Who are you, please?”

  “I’m Taghri. I was in a caravan attacked by some of Abu Reis’ pirates near Alconteral a couple of months ago. I killed Sidi Reis while fighting them off, and I’m delivering a short, sharp lesson to all who supported him.”

  Kamil’s eyes glowed with glee. “That’s the best news I’ve had since we were taken, sir! My crew’s all here, and intact. Will you help me get a Quwain ship to replace mine, and take it out of the harbor? We’ll follow you in her.”

  “I will, provided you first help me load our ships. They’re at the quayside right now. You’ll sail in company with us, with some of my troops aboard. Whatever cargo your ship is carrying will be sold, and the money distributed among everyone, not just your crew. You’ll get the ship for yourselves. All right?”

  “Agreed, sir! I’ll call my ship’s company together.”

  As the captain hurried away, Taghri turned to one of his men. “Get back to the quay as fast as you can. Tell Elhac to save the baghlah moored ahead of his boum at the quayside, and not to burn her. Some of the slaves want her.”

  “Aye, sir!” The sailor disappeared at a dead run.