we can always scoot straight up to that hold-out prison isle this side of Fent Reach – that's a tight harbour mouth, or so I've been told, and they got a chain to keep the baddies out.'
'Pirates ain't baddies?'
'Not as far as they're concerned. The prisoners are running things now.'
'I doubt it'll be that easy,' Skorgen muttered. 'We'd just be bringing trouble down on them – it's not like the Edur couldn't have conquered them long ago. They just can't be bothered.'
'Maybe, maybe not. The point is, we'll run out of food and water if we can't resupply somewhere. Edur galleys are fast, fast enough to stay with us. Anywhere we dock they'll be on us before the last line is drawn to the bollard. With the exception of the prison isle.' She scowled. 'It's a damned shame. I wanted to go home for a bit.'
'Then we'd best hope the whole damned fleet back there heads upriver,' Skorgen the Pretty said, scratching round an eye socket.
'Hope and pray – you pray to any gods, Skorgen?'
'Sea spirits, mostly. The Face Under the Waves, the Guardian of the Drowned, the Swallower of Ships, the Stealer of Winds, the Tower of Water, the Reef Hiders, the—'
'All right, Pretty, that'll do. You can keep your host of disasters to yourself . . . just make sure you do all the propitiations.'
'Thought you didn't believe in all that, Captain.'
'I don't. But it never hurts to make sure.'
'One day their names will rise from the water, Captain,' Skorgen Kaban said, making a complicated warding gesture with his one remaining hand. 'And with them the seas will lift high, to claim the sky itself. And the world will vanish beneath the waves.'
'You and your damned prophecies.'
'Not mine. Fent. Ever see their early maps? They show a coast leagues out from what it is now. All their founding villages are under hundreds of spans of water.'
'So they believe their prophecy is coming true. Only it's going to take ten thousand years.'
His shrug was lopsided. 'Could be, Captain. Even the Edur claim that the ice far to the north is breaking up. Ten thousand years, or a hundred. Either way, we'll be long dead by then.'
Speak for yourself, Pretty. Then again, what a thought. Me wandering round on the sea bottom for eternity. 'Skorgen, get young Burdenar down from the crow's nest and into my cabin.'
The first mate made a face. 'Captain, you're wearing him out.'
'I ain't heard him complain.'
'Of course not. We'd all like to be as lucky – your pardon, Captain, for me being too forward, but it's true. I was serious, though. You're wearing him out, and he's the youngest sailor we got.'
'Right, meaning I'd probably kill the rest of you. Call him down, Pretty.'
'Aye, Captain.'
She stared back at the distant ships. The long search was over, it seemed. What would they be bringing back to fair Letheras, apart from casks of blood? Champions. Each one convinced they can do what no other has ever managed. Kill the Emperor. Kill him dead, deader than me, so dead he never gets back up.
Too bad that would never happen.
On his way out of Letheras, Venitt Sathad, Indebted servant to Rautos Hivanar, halted the modest train outside the latest addition to the Hivanar holdings. The inn's refurbishment was well under way, he saw, as, accompanied by the owner of the construction company under hire, he made his way past the work crews crowding the main building, then out back to where the stables and other outbuildings stood.
Then stopped.
The structure that had been raised round the unknown ancient mechanism had been taken down. Venitt stared at the huge monolith of unknown metal, wondering why, now that it had been exposed, it looked so familiar. The edifice bent without a visible seam, three-quarters of the way up – at about one and a half times his own height – a seemingly perfect ninety degrees. The apex looked as if it awaited some kind of attachment, if the intricate loops of metal were anything more than decorative. The object stood on a platform of the same peculiar, dull metal, and again there was no obvious separation between it and the platform itself.
'Have you managed to identify its purpose?' Venitt asked the old, mostly bald man at his side.
'Well,' Bugg conceded, 'I have some theories.'
'I would be interested in hearing them.'
'You will find others in the city,' Bugg said. 'No two alike, but the same nonetheless, if you know what I mean.'
'No, I