next morning, Wiliger had disappeared to the sick bay and had hardly been seen since.
"I can't say as I've missed him," said Relkin.
"Nor me, either," grunted Swane. "Manuel said he was a bit green in the face."
Relkin shared in Swane's amusement. This pleased Swane enormously.
"Pity they never packed him off home with all those trunks of his," said Swane.
Manuel was intent on the other ships, craning his head around the rigging to get a view of the
Potato
.
"There's a frigate coming up," he said. "She's moving very fast."
The others crowded to the side, leaning out until they earned a sharp rebuke from a sailor in the waist.
"You silly buggers fall in and ye'll not survive, not in winter sea. Nor will any of us'n jump in to rescue ye."
"There's a frigate coming," shouted Relkin.
"Aye," said the sailor, calmly. "That be the
Lyre
all right, Captain Renard. My cousin Shephuel is third mate. She's a flyer, is that
Lyre
."
Clearly the sailors had all been aware of the frigate for a long time.
Now the smaller ship, under a tremendous press of canvas, came racing up to starboard and then pulled up just a cable's length away. A cutter was set down to the sea and bore across the gap under the powerful strokes of six men. The captain of the frigate, Captain Renard, came aboard the
Barley
and brought with him two small figures clad in hooded robes of a soft grey.
Relkin saw them climb onto the sacred quarterdeck, and he knew at once who it was. On the quarterdeck the small grey figures were greeted with considerable ceremony by the captain herself, who introduced her mates, and then they were conducted down the steps to the rear cabins and were lost from sight. Down those steps, Relkin knew, lay the staterooms and grand salons where the admiral of the fleet had his quarters. The admiral's long golden pennant flew from the mainmast. The admiral had come aboard from a frigate that had brought him from Andiquant, slightly ahead of the rest of the Cunfshon fleet.
"Who was that, do you think?" said Endi, who had joined them from below.
Swane looked to Relkin and held his tongue. Swane knew who they were but couldn't tell, even though he longed to. It was up to Relkin.
Manuel did not feel the same compulsions. "Witches," he muttered. Like most citizens of the realm, he found it difficult to accept the women of the magic arts. There they were, these people who could control anyone with a spell or two. They moved secretively through the society of the empire, and no one could control what they did. Manuel, as an educated person, tended to distrust such small but powerful groups. The other dragonboys, largely bereft of education, had less distrust, but even more awe, a sense verging on that of the religious.
Endi looked sharply at Relkin for confirmation.
Relkin nodded, noticing Endi's look of apprehensive awe.
"What do you think they want?" said Endi.
"I expect they're talking to Admiral Cranx. The witches like to control everything at the top level." Manuel voiced his suspicion bluntly.
Endi again looked anxiously to Relkin. Relkin shrugged.
"Don't ask me, your guess is as good as mine, but I expect it's something to do with our mission, whatever that may be."
"I'd love to know," said Endi.
"So would the rest of us," growled Swane. "Packed off to sea with virtually no warning. Up and down like galley slaves for days in weather that's not fit for fish and still no idea of what we're in for."
The door on the quarterdeck opened again and one of the figures in grey emerged. Captain Zudith Olinas conversed with the witch for a few minutes, gesturing to the rigging now and again, clearly showing off her ship, of which she was justly proud. Then the hooded figure came forward, stepped lightly down from the quarterdeck into the waist and made its way along the gangways and up onto the foredeck.
"Relkin, I hoped I'd find you here," said Lagdalen of the Tarcho.
"I'm glad you did." They embraced. Then Relkin introduced Endi,
"I can't say as I've missed him," said Relkin.
"Nor me, either," grunted Swane. "Manuel said he was a bit green in the face."
Relkin shared in Swane's amusement. This pleased Swane enormously.
"Pity they never packed him off home with all those trunks of his," said Swane.
Manuel was intent on the other ships, craning his head around the rigging to get a view of the
Potato
.
"There's a frigate coming up," he said. "She's moving very fast."
The others crowded to the side, leaning out until they earned a sharp rebuke from a sailor in the waist.
"You silly buggers fall in and ye'll not survive, not in winter sea. Nor will any of us'n jump in to rescue ye."
"There's a frigate coming," shouted Relkin.
"Aye," said the sailor, calmly. "That be the
Lyre
all right, Captain Renard. My cousin Shephuel is third mate. She's a flyer, is that
Lyre
."
Clearly the sailors had all been aware of the frigate for a long time.
Now the smaller ship, under a tremendous press of canvas, came racing up to starboard and then pulled up just a cable's length away. A cutter was set down to the sea and bore across the gap under the powerful strokes of six men. The captain of the frigate, Captain Renard, came aboard the
Barley
and brought with him two small figures clad in hooded robes of a soft grey.
Relkin saw them climb onto the sacred quarterdeck, and he knew at once who it was. On the quarterdeck the small grey figures were greeted with considerable ceremony by the captain herself, who introduced her mates, and then they were conducted down the steps to the rear cabins and were lost from sight. Down those steps, Relkin knew, lay the staterooms and grand salons where the admiral of the fleet had his quarters. The admiral's long golden pennant flew from the mainmast. The admiral had come aboard from a frigate that had brought him from Andiquant, slightly ahead of the rest of the Cunfshon fleet.
"Who was that, do you think?" said Endi, who had joined them from below.
Swane looked to Relkin and held his tongue. Swane knew who they were but couldn't tell, even though he longed to. It was up to Relkin.
Manuel did not feel the same compulsions. "Witches," he muttered. Like most citizens of the realm, he found it difficult to accept the women of the magic arts. There they were, these people who could control anyone with a spell or two. They moved secretively through the society of the empire, and no one could control what they did. Manuel, as an educated person, tended to distrust such small but powerful groups. The other dragonboys, largely bereft of education, had less distrust, but even more awe, a sense verging on that of the religious.
Endi looked sharply at Relkin for confirmation.
Relkin nodded, noticing Endi's look of apprehensive awe.
"What do you think they want?" said Endi.
"I expect they're talking to Admiral Cranx. The witches like to control everything at the top level." Manuel voiced his suspicion bluntly.
Endi again looked anxiously to Relkin. Relkin shrugged.
"Don't ask me, your guess is as good as mine, but I expect it's something to do with our mission, whatever that may be."
"I'd love to know," said Endi.
"So would the rest of us," growled Swane. "Packed off to sea with virtually no warning. Up and down like galley slaves for days in weather that's not fit for fish and still no idea of what we're in for."
The door on the quarterdeck opened again and one of the figures in grey emerged. Captain Zudith Olinas conversed with the witch for a few minutes, gesturing to the rigging now and again, clearly showing off her ship, of which she was justly proud. Then the hooded figure came forward, stepped lightly down from the quarterdeck into the waist and made its way along the gangways and up onto the foredeck.
"Relkin, I hoped I'd find you here," said Lagdalen of the Tarcho.
"I'm glad you did." They embraced. Then Relkin introduced Endi,
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