Inheritance (22 page)

“Of course,” Kumul said under his breath. “Usharna and the
general
, who was himself half Chett.”

“And Lynan is the son of both,” Ager said smugly, folding his arms.

Captain Turalier rejoined them. “The boat is ready. You should board now. We’ll be through the heads in a few minutes.”

The four companions shook hands with the captain and Grapnel, he and Kumul embracing, then moved to the stern. Their swords were bundled together and placed in the boat, then Ager went down first and steadied the vessel as Kumul clambered on board. Kumul had obviously never been in a small boat before, and he found it difficult to keep his balance. The boat started rolling precariously.

“Sit down, you horse!” Ager barked. Embarrassed, Kumul plumped down on the mid thwart. Jenrosa went down next. Lynan watched her with envy as she lightly stepped into the boat, then stepped over Kumul to take the rear thwart and the rudder.

“All right, your Highness, your turn,” Ager said. “Come down this side of Kumul and sit beside him.”

Lynan swung over, but before descending, he turned to Grapnel. “Thank you for all you have done. I will never forget it.”

Grapnel nodded. “Best get going, your Highness, or you won’t live long enough to remember.”

As soon as Lynan placed a foot in the boat, it started to move away from him.

“Shift your balance this way,” Ager urged him.

Lynan edged toward him, but of its own volition one hand held on to a rope hanging from
Seaspray’s
gunwales.

“Your Highness, you’ll have to let go sometime,” Ager said, reaching out to grab him by a sleeve.

Lynan let go of the rope, overcompensated, and started waving his arms around in wide circles to maintain his balance. Ager lost his grip on the sleeve, and Lynan toppled backward into the sea with a huge splash. As he bobbed to the surface like a cork, he saw
Seaspray
pulling away from him, Captain Turalier and several of the sailors looking back with grins as wide as mainsails on their faces.

Kumul and Ager each grabbed a handful of the sorry prince and dragged him on board like a hooked tunny. He lay on the bottom of the boat, coughing and hacking, thoroughly wet and miserable.

“Have a nice swim, your Highness?” Ager inquired politely.

Lynan eased himself up to the mid thwart and wiped dripping hair away from his face. “Delightful, thank you.”

Ager said nothing more, but with practiced ease erected a supple mast and unfurled a single, lateen sail. A moment later the wind caught the canvas and sent the companions away from Kendra and away from home.

Although Lynan had occasionally dreamed of visiting faraway lands one day, he had never actually been at sea. At first, wet and miserable, he sat shivering and feeling sorry for himself, his head down, but as the sun and the breeze dried his clothes and then warmed his skin, his temper improved.

He found himself taken over by the novelty of sailing over deep blue water, of having his hair whipped around his face like a loose sail, of the smell of brine untainted by the scent of human waste. He marveled at the seagulls wheeling overhead, at the cormorants that dived into the water so recklessly, and at the pattern of the waves running across the top of the sea.

After a while, though, doubts assailed him. He noticed how small the boat was, and wondered what fish might be lurking just under the hull for a chance at nibbling a dangling hand or foot. He could not help remembering how poor a swimmer he was—he had never taken to water. He drew away from the gunwales, trying to sit as closely as possible to the center of the thwart, and began to feel miserable again.

When at last they left behind any remaining signs of civilization, Ager told them they still had an important decision to make. “How are we to get to the Oceans of Grass?”

“The most direct way,” Kumul said. “Surely the sooner we get there, the better.”

“Perhaps,” Ager mused. “But if Areava has guessed where we’re heading, she’ll try and cut us off.”

“We have at least some head start,” Jenrosa pointed out.

“For how long?” Lynan asked. “Areava has probably already sent messages to the provinces warning them to keep an eye out for us. If she sends those messages by postriders, they will not be far behind us. If she has sent them by carrier bird, which is more likely, the messages will already be arriving at Chandra and Lurisia.”

“As much as possible we will have to travel under cover,” Kumul said. “By night, by little used roads, by stealth. The four of us, no matter how determined, cannot hope to force our way through the whole kingdom.”

“Then you think we should not take the most direct route,” Jenrosa said dryly.

“No route will be entirely safe,” Ager said. “We must weigh what we think the risks will be and choose the least dangerous.”

“That
may
be the most direct route,” Kumul said. “The least expected action is often the wisest, and time is important. If we take months to get to the Oceans of Grass, it will give our enemies the breathing space they need to secure their position, or to work on enough of the tribes of the Northern Chetts to stop any rebellion from ever getting off the ground.”

“I can’t dispute what you say, Constable,” Ager said quietly. “In the end, of course, the decision isn’t really ours to make.”

“What do you mean?” Lynan asked, confused. “Why go through all this discussion otherwise?”

“What I mean, your Highness, is that Kumul, Jenrosa, and I cannot make the
final
decision. You must.”

“Why me? We’re all in this together—”

“Start thinking like a true prince, lad,” Kumul said. “In the end, you have to make all the decisions… all the vital ones, anyway. This is
your
cause. Eventually, you will have to stand alone, especially if you’re to lead a…” He glanced quickly at Jenrosa. “… rebellion. We can advise, even cajole, but we can’t make policy, we can’t decide what path the rebellion must take, we can’t denounce your enemies for you. All of these things must be done by the leader— by you.”

Lynan was silent. He did not want this responsibility. Not yet, anyway. Why were they forcing the decision on him now, when he knew no more than they about the situation?

For a while they sailed on, the water gently lapping against the side of the boat, the sun warming their faces.

“Lynan?” Jenrosa urged quietly.

“I’m thinking,” he replied curtly, angry at his companions and conscious of them staring at him. At last he said, “I don’t want to make this decision.”

Ager sighed. “It’s not a decision any of us want to make. Still, it has to be made.”

Lynan muttered something.

“What was that?” Jenrosa politely enquired.

“I said we might as well go by the shortest possible route.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’? Because you want me to make the decision, and that’s the decision I’ve made, that’s why.”

“That’s hardly an answer,” Ager reproved. “As your followers—in fact, at this point, as your
only
followers—we deserve more respect and courtesy. Otherwise, your rebellion might be very short-lived.”

“I don’t understand any of this. You insisted I make the decision. I didn’t want to—”

“Will you listen to yourself?” Jenrosa snapped. “You’re starting to sound like a spoiled brat. We’re not bees, Lynan, we’re people. If we don’t know on what grounds you’ve made the decision, how can we advise you and how can we respect your decision?”

“You mean every time I make a decision I have to explain it to everyone?”

“Not every time,” Ager assured him good humoredly. “Just most of the time. Once you’ve shown you can make good and wise decisions on your own, no one will question you.”

Lynan breathed out resignedly. “I think we should take the shortest possible route because, as Kumul pointed out, time is of the essence, and because we don’t know yet whether or not Areava has blocked the way. If she hasn’t, we’ll get through to achieve our goals all the quicker. If she has, it won’t be too late to choose another, longer, route.”

“Well, that’s pretty comprehensive,” Jenrosa acknowledged.

“Yes, very sound,” Ager agreed expansively.

“Excellent choice, your Highness,” Kumul said. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Thank you so much,” Lynan said. “And I assume the most direct way is by boat?”

“Aye,” Ager agreed. “We follow the coastline until we come to the mouth of the Gelt River, and then sail up the Gelt until we are within one or two days’ march of its source in the Ufero Mountains, on the other side of which we will find the Oceans of Grass.”

“How long do we stay with the boat?”

“About ten days, depending on the wind.”

Wonderful
, Lynan thought.
Another ten days over water. And it was my decision
.

As they sailed on, the coastline gradually changed in appearance. Close to Kendra, soft yellow beaches gave way to gently rolling farmland, but as they approached the Ebrius Ridge—the basalt uplifts that separated the Horn of Lear from Chandra to the north—the topography became increasingly steep until eventually high cliffs marked the boundary between sea and land. Lynan felt small and insignificant under the towering black wall, and vulnerable and frail against the white-capped waves that crashed into the cliffs, sending great sheets of spray into the air. Circling above them like thin strips of shadow was a cloud of kestrels, springing from their aeries in the face of the rock wall and searching for fish and other birds.

“They make me uneasy,” Kumul muttered, staring at their flying escort with suspicion. “The kestrel is no longer a bird of good omen.”

“I think they’re beautiful,” Jenrosa declared in their defense. “They mean us no harm.” Her gaze lifted to a group of kestrels that broke away from their fellows and flew further out to sea.

“Let us talk about something else,” Ager said. “Whether or not the birds bring us bad luck, there is nothing we can do about it.”

“Let’s talk about ships, then,” Jenrosa said, still watching the kestrels.

“What type of ships?” Lynan asked.

“Whatever type is coming our way,” she said calmly. The others looked up at her sharply, and then followed her gaze.

“I can’t see anything,” Ager said.

“Nor I,” Kumul added.

“You won’t for a while,” Jenrosa said. “But I’ve been talking to sailors and navigators now for three years, and I know that kestrels have learned to follow our ships because of the refuse we throw overboard.” She pointed to the birds that had left the cliffs. “And they are hovering above a ship.”

“Damn,” Ager swore under his breath. “She’s right. I’m an idiot for forgetting. Lynan, help Jenrosa with the tiller. Kumul, help me pull down the sail. We must row.”

“Row!” Kumul declared. “The waves will send us against those cliffs!”

“Lynan and Jenrosa will steer us very carefully, won’t you? But with the sail up, we’re too easy to spot.”

Ager and Kumul quickly furled the sail and stowed the mast. They took the oars and sculled strongly and evenly toward the looming cliffs, Kumul pacing his stroke to match Ager’s.

“When we’re two hundred paces out, Jenrosa, steer us parallel to the shore,” Ager said. “We daren’t go any closer than that.”

Jenrosa nodded. Lynan, constantly looking over his shoulder, was the first to see the approaching sail. “There she is!” he cried.

The other three peered toward the horizon. They caught a glimpse of a red sail, and soon after a long, sleek hull. The sail was emblazoned with a golden spear crossed by two swords. A warship.

“Do you think it’s searching for us?” Lynan asked.

Ager shook his head. “Possibly, or it’s carrying messages from Areava to King Marin of Aman. Either way, if it sees us, we could be in trouble.”

They were very close to the cliffs now, and the waves were getting harder to resist, even with both Lynan and Jenrosa pushing against the tiller. They could see huge, jagged boulders at the base of the cliffs, and a curtain of spray hung permanently in the air, drifting over the sea and drenching them. The rudder seemed to have a mind of its own, twisting and flexing beneath the hull.

“We have to move away!” Jenrosa shouted, trying to be heard over the roar of crashing waves. Lynan glanced fearfully at the rocks, now less than two hundred paces from them.

“Keep your course!” Ager ordered. “The warship is closing. It must have seen us!”

“Its navigator was watching the kestrels, too,” Jenrosa said, and ignored Kumul’s sour expression.

The constable grunted. “If they’ve seen us, then at least we can use the sail again.” He let go of his oar and started to stand.

“No!” Ager roared, but it was too late. As soon as Kumul moved, the boat’s prow lurched violently toward the rocks. He sat down and reached for the oar, but it slipped out of his grasp as the blade bit into the sea. The boat spun ninety degrees, sending the oar into Kumul’s side with terrific force and unseating him with a loud thwack.

Ager grabbed the oar and tried desperately to work it as well as his own, but his reach was not wide enough. Lynan and Jenrosa pushed on the tiller in a frantic attempt to keep the prow pointed away from the cliffs, but a wave picked them up and lifted the stern out of the water, rendering the rudder useless.

Ager pulled in the oars and moved astern to take the tiller, pushing the two young people forward and down to the bottom of the boat. The wave seemed to tire of them and dropped them behind its cap. Ager was ready, and he heaved on the tiller with all his strength. Kumul had recovered his breath by this time, and he lurched back to help. Together, the two men were able to move the prow to port, and the boat slid sideways for a second before compromising and moving forward at an angle, driven by current and momentum, still headed toward destruction on the rocks.

“Look out!” gasped Kumul, pointing to where the waves were breaking early directly in their path. But there was nothing either of the men could do. Almost as soon as Kumul cried out his warning, the boat was picked up by another wave. There was a tormented scraping sound as the hull was hauled over a barely submerged rock and the boat was shot forward again. It hit the sea with a crash and Lynan felt himself picked up and hurled through the air. When he hit the water, the shock of the cold made him open his mouth in a gagging scream, and the whole ocean seemed to rush in. He kicked frantically and broached the surface, only to slip under again right away. His clothes felt as if they were loaded down with lead weights, and he tore at them frantically.