on the peasants fleeing south. Haven’t seen so many of the bastards in one place for a long time. Still, three boats full of swordless yokels was probably too tasty a meal to pass up.”
“What do we do, Uncle?” Ellese asked, appearing on deck with bow in hand.
“We do nothing, girl,” Chien told her before glancing at Crab. “Best to steer east for a time. No need to invite attention.”
“We can’t just leave those people,” Ellese insisted, her gaze veering between Vaelin and Chien. “Uncle?”
The doubt and confusion on her face was a hard thing to see, but it was the scream that decided him. Full of pain and despair, it rose from the beleaguered boats to echo across the water like a battle horn, plaintive and irresistible in its summons. Vaelin turned to Nortah and they exchanged a wordless nod.
“Stand with Lord Nortah,” Vaelin told Ellese. “He’ll tell you where to aim. Master Sehmon, have a care for my back if you please.”
The youth tightened the buckle of his sword and straightened. “Of course, my lord.”
“Take us there,” Vaelin told Crab in Chu-Shin, inclining his head at the boats.
The boatman blinked in momentary surprise at the fluency of Vaelin’s words, then let out a dismissive laugh. “Only I command this boat, foreigner . . .”
His mouth clamped shut as Vaelin stepped to him, drawing his hunting knife and pressing it to the ample flesh of his neck, all done with a smooth lack of hesitancy that forestalled any reaction.
“This is unwise,” Chien said, voice rich in warning. “The Crimson Band has a treaty with the Silver Thread . . .”
“I don’t.” Vaelin pressed the edge of his blade deeper into Crab’s neck, the man’s nostrils flaring in a mix of fury and fear. “Take us there. Now.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Nortah’s bow began to sing as soon as the swirling cluster of boats drew within range. His first arrow followed a high arc as it plunged down into the back of a man on the foredeck of the nearest boat. He was an easy target to identify, having been engaged in ripping the clothes from a frantically struggling woman before the arrow slammed into his back. It had been the woman’s screams that called to Vaelin, screams that fell to silence as her attacker reared up and staggered, trying vainly to reach for the shaft protruding from his back. Ellese’s arrow took him in the chest, pitching him into the water.
“That puts the knot on it,” Chien said in bitter resignation, hefting her staff. “We have to finish them all,” she told Crab. “If word of this reaches their brothers, war will follow.”
The boatman gave a reluctant nod, gaze still locked on Vaelin’s. “That isn’t necessary now,” he grated, flicking his eyes at the knife still pressed against his neck.
Vaelin grunted in satisfaction and withdrew the blade, sliding it into the sheath on his belt and turning to watch the fast-approaching chaos. The flames consuming the larger boat blossomed higher as they drew nearer, birthing an even thicker cloud of smoke that robbed Nortah and Ellese of further targets. As Sehmon and Alum worked the oars to close the distance, Vaelin’s ears detected the snapping chorus of multiple crossbows being loosed in unison.
“Down!” Nortah barked, throwing himself flat as a hail of bolts came streaming out of the smoke to rake the boat. Ellese let out a curse as one plucked at her sleeve before she rolled clear of the roof. “Just a scratch,” she said as Vaelin inspected the wound. It bled far more than a mere scratch and would need stitching, but there was no time for that now.
“There’s still work to do here,” he told her, inclining his head at the stern.
She frowned at his flat tone but, as had become her habit these days, kept any retort to herself. Nocking an arrow, she bobbed up, drew and loosed, ducking back down as a trio of crossbow bolts whined overhead. “Well, that’s one less at least,” she said.
“Alum,” Vaelin said, making his way to the prow. “If you would care to join me. Master Sehmon, remain here and have a care for Master Erlin. Also.” He paused to glance back at Crab before returning his gaze to Sehmon. “Make sure our captain doesn’t decide to take himself off.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
Vaelin crouched low behind the sturdy block of timber that rose from the prow. It bore many old scars, presumably as a result of occasions much like this