Read Our Lady of the Islands Online
Authors: Shannon Page,Jay Lake
Our Lady of the Islands (43 page)
“Shouldn’t he be slowing down, at least?” asked Pino. “Soon there won’t be room to turn at such a speed. He’s nearly halfway to the bridge already. Doesn’t he know —”
“Reikos has sailed these waters for many years,” Sian cut in, shaking her head. “He could not have done this by mistake.”
Pino turned to gaze shoreward again. “Well, whatever he’s doing, it’s bought us this chance to sidestep their blockade. That much, at least, has gone according to plan.”
Sian and Arian both turned forward too. “But only the blockade, it seems,” said Arian. “Does one of you see anyplace up there that looks remotely safe for us to come ashore?”
Sian scoured the waterfront. The Factorate’s once posh marina was, unsurprisingly, just smoldering wreckage now. All else along the shoreline not engulfed in flames was teeming with people — mostly men, and armed — either actively engaged in combat, or looking primed for trouble.
Coppersmith’s
fixed keel would prevent them from just sailing up onto some beach, even if they found one not already inundated with this conflict; and she could see few docks still fit even to tie a boat to, let alone safe for them to come ashore from without being immediately surrounded by potential enemies.
Pino shook his head as well. “We’ll have to sail west, I think, until we find some bit of shoreline not so full of trouble. The whole island can’t be in this state, can it?”
In the distance, cannon fire erupted briefly, and they all turned back to watch the mad parade following Reikos — still headed east toward the bridge to Apricot.
“Doesn’t look as though they hit him,” Pino said.
“Surely he cannot intend to sail underneath the bridge,” said Arian.
“That would be suicidal,” Sian murmured.
“I’m falling off the wind to turn now,” Pino said, already pulling at the tiller. “Lean in, my ladies, please.” The boat veered gently westward as Pino played its sails out, and it ceased leaning so severely.
This new trajectory put their backs to Reikos, as if they were just running from sight of whatever happened next. Sian could not believe he meant to smash his ship into the islands somewhere. No one had asked
that
of him, had they?
Had they?
As they headed further toward the open sea, the surface chop grew rougher, and the wind began to rise. Soon the bow was bucking up over whitecaps and thudding jarringly into the troughs. Drenching spray flew over the gunwales to join the pool already sloshing at their feet. Arian grew quieter, looking, perhaps, a little green, though that might just have been the moonlight. Sian reached over to wrap Arian’s hand in hers, and yes … There was the scent of ginger, and a queasiness in Sian’s throat and bowels as well. She closed her eyes and breathed more deeply while it passed.
A moment later, Arian looked over at her sharply. “Did you just …?”
Sian shrugged, and looked away. “Why let you suffer, and waste the gift?”
“If only we had gotten you to Konrad earlier,” Arian sighed.
Her words seemed echoed by the young priest’s voice in Sian’s memory:
If you had made any effort to deliver it, you would likely have found out by now
. How much might have happened differently, Sian wondered, if she’d just gone straight off to the ruling family as ordered to, and told them … what? That she was suddenly a healer? Could the god really have expected her to understand so quickly that her
message
was the gift itself?
She had known about Konrad’s illness, certainly. She had figured out by the next day that she was able now to heal with a touch, and yet …
Would they reach the Factorate at last, only to discover that her earlier resistance had cost them their chance? She thought again of that poor child’s dark gaze on Pembo’s Beach. Had it been the god’s reproach she’d seen peering from those eyes — for having failed him already?
In the distance, they heard another round of cannon fire, but they’d already come too far around the western point of Home to see the channel now. If they’d known before that they would need to sail around the island anyway, Sian realized, Reikos need never have placed his ship in danger to begin with. They could just have sailed where they were sailing without his help — as they were doing now — though she had no doubt that he’d still have been here in the boat with them.
How much else have those few days of my delay cost?
“Domina Kattë,” said Pino, “may I give you the tiller for a moment? These seas are getting high — with so much water in the boat. I’d better bail her out some.” He was already reaching underneath his bench to grab the bucket stowed there.
“I can bail as well as you,” Sian said, reaching out to take the pail.
“My lady, you should not have —”
“I cannot
sail
as well as you, however,” she cut his protest short. “I won’t capsize us out here while you’re sparing me the need to bail.”
“Is there another bucket?” Arian asked.
Pino stared at her, clearly scandalized at the mere idea of allowing the Factora-Consort of Alizar to bail his boat.
“Were you not listening to what she just said, young man?” Arian asked with something very like a smile. “Even ladies as pampered as we are not completely
un-armed
.”
Pino looked queasy now himself — though not with sea sickness, Sian thought. “There is another, I believe, under the forward bench.”
Sian offered him a reassuring smile, wondering just how much he felt sworn to ‘protect’ her from. They would need to talk about this, sometime very soon, she thought, bending to start scooping water from their boat.
To everyone’s quiet dismay, the shore passing to their port side continued to be either without safe landing, or too crowded with potential trouble to risk. Clearly, all attention in this sudden war was focused here, on Home — and they were not the first to seek out any uncontested patch of access to or from the sea.
When the bailing had been done, and the buckets were re-stowed, a restive silence fell across them as they scanned the passing shore in vain.
“Domina Kattë,” Pino said at last, with obvious unease. “There is … I …” He fell silent again.
“Say whatever you wish, Pino,” she encouraged him. “What do you imagine can upset me after all we’ve been through just tonight?”
“I … am not sure it is my place to tell you this, but …” She saw him swallow, clearly on the verge of reconsidering, even now.
“You’ve started,” she said with a smile, far too intrigued to let him off the hook. “Just finish. I promise, you won’t break me.”
The boy looked pained, then cross — with himself, clearly — then resigned. It was really rather comical. “Captain Reikos, and I … We … discussed you, some, when we were in the Census Taker’s jail all that time. More than once … A lot, I guess.”
Oh marvelous
, she thought wearily. What had Konstantin told him? Nothing too lurid, she hoped, despite the evening’s very public revelations.
Her wariness must have shown, for he added quickly, “Neither of us thought we would come out of there alive, my lady. And … I did trick him into telling me. That you two were …”
“Lovers, yes,” she said, desperate now just to help him get this over with, wherever it was headed. “You are allowed to say it, Pino. It’s no secret anymore.”
He looked relieved. “Well, all I mean to say then, is, I’m pretty sure he meant to tell you things, tonight, before … all that happened at your daughter’s house. He did a lot of thinking in that cell, and felt quite bad, I guess, about how he had … mishandled things with you before.”
“And what?” she said, damning herself silently for having pressed him.
Pino drew a deep breath and looked her squarely in the eyes. “He’s really a very good man, Domina, and loves you even more than you may guess. He came to know that very clearly while we were down there, and has truly forsaken all the others.” He seemed to start, even blanch a little. “You … did know that there were others … Didn’t you?”
She just managed not to roll her eyes. “I did. Yes. Captain Reikos has a broad appreciation for all kinds of beauty. And …?”
“And … now that you have … that you are … parting with your husband, I’m certain that he hopes to marry you,” Pino rushed to finish, looking as frightened as if he had just proposed to her himself.
Sian stared back at him, aware that Arian was staring now as well.
“I … It seems … so unsure now, what may happen. Now. I thought …” Pino stammered to a halt at last, seeming, finally, to realize that it had been at best presumptuous to make any such announcement on another man’s behalf — whether it was true or not.
But Sian was more than old enough to understand that boys learned some things about boundaries late in life. Some, like poor Arouf, never learned at all. And she had known Pino more than long enough to recognize the innocence — the bravery, even — behind what he had just tried to tell her — probably, in case … She wanted very badly not to hurt this poor, guileless boy, and so, as she suddenly understood why he had taken this upon himself, she tried very hard not to burst into tears. She had all but promised him she wouldn’t, hadn’t she? How presumptuous had that been? He was not the only fool here. Not by any measure.
“He told you this?” she managed very quietly.
Pino shook his head. “But I know, my lady. The dungeon changed him. Deeply. And what the priest said to us all that night. He is no longer the same man he was. I guess that’s what I wanted you … what I thought
he
might want you to know.”
“Because you don’t think he will live to tell me,” she said, feeling herself harden inside against the sudden discovery that there were still things left to break there after all. Things she wasn’t sure her new gift would have any power to cure.
Pino looked away, clearly distraught. “I am sorry, Domina. I should not …”
“Thank you,” Sian said, loosing tears despite herself. “For being you, Pino. If just a tenth of us were half so good-hearted, so well-intentioned … maybe none of us would be in such trouble here tonight.” Her tears were falling harder now. There was nothing she could do to stop them. “You have nothing to apologize for. Not to me. Not to anyone, I’m certain.”
He nodded, without looking at her. Then turned his attention awkwardly to the further adjustment of their sails. Doubting she could heal this for him either, Sian left him to his own devices, and looked back toward the shadowed point of land receding behind them, somewhere beyond which, Reikos would survive this night or not.
Arian scooted close enough to wrap an arm around her and lay her head on Sian’s shoulder. “What a night for all of us,” she whispered.
Sian nodded.
Yes. For all of us. Who in these islands is not suffering tonight? I am not alone, nor anything like worst off here. Not by any measure.
As the lofty bridge drew near at last, Reikos quickly understood what Kyrios had meant by ‘a rough angle.’ There were only three great arches underneath it wide enough to offer any hope of fitting through, and the channel they were following went only through the center one, but not at a straight angle. They’d have to turn more than forty-five degrees into the passage. More lost speed, and if Reikos didn’t manage their momentum carefully, a rather swift ending on the portside bridge piling.
“Where’s the tide?” he asked Kyrios.
“High, Captain, and still in flood — for another couple hours yet.”
“Naturally,” he sighed. “Stand ready to come about forty-eight degrees starboard!” Reikos shouted down to his crew. “On my mark … Now!”
Reikos began tugging at the wheel as everyone below scurried to trim
Fair Passage’s
sails from beam reach to close hauled. He aimed well starboard of the channel’s center, anticipating some side-slippage at this speed. Their sturdy keel held the turn more closely than expected, though, which necessitated some very sloppy extra turns as they nosed into the arch.
As soon as he felt sure they’d make it, he and Kyrios both looked up to watch the main mast, and were startled to find a great crowd of astonished onlookers gawking down at them from atop the bridge itself, open-mouthed and pointing at yet another spectacle they’d likely never thought to see. Reikos shook his head, and pulled his eyes back to the main topgallant, praying he’d been right about the bridge’s height. “’Ware the chance of falling rigging!” he yelled needlessly to his crew, their eyes all pointed just where his were as the mast glided up … and … under by an onion skin!
A rowdy cheer erupted from the crew, as Reikos bowed his head in relief — cut short by the jolting boom of cannon fire, just behind them.
There was only time to whirl and gape at Orlon’s remaining gunboat before two great chunks of the bridge piling to their port side blossomed in an earsplitting chrysanthemum of dust and flying stone — most of which fell harmlessly into the water, though several smaller chunks tore little holes through a few mainmast sails, taking out a minor stay or two — though, happily, the weakened topgallant was not dislodged. From high above them came a din of panic as bridge-top gawkers cried out in terror, running for either end of the long span.
“Molian!” Reikos yelled, relieved to find the man right where he ought to be, head and shoulders thrust up through the aft hatch just behind him. “Fire at will!”
“Aye-aye, Captain! Eagent,” he yelled down, “fire at —”
His compliance was cut short by the roar of their own cannons —
one
—
two
—
three
in quick succession — as Eagent must have had punk to powder down there even before the order had been given — a serious offense in ordinary times, perhaps, but godsdamned welcome now. If any of them lived to see the morning, Reikos would have a word with him about it.
Two of their three cannon balls flew wide. The third took Orlon’s smaller gunboat straight through the foredeck’s starboard side. Split-seconds later, a roar erupted from inside the injured craft, and a fireball blew their foredeck to confetti. Perhaps they’d had punk already set to powder in there too. Another known opponent was dispatched. That was all Reikos cared.
“Captain!” Kyrios shouted, lunging past him to grab the momentarily forgotten wheel.
Reikos spun to find his own neglected ship headed for a glancing blow against the starboard bridge piling as it exited the arch. “Gods!” he shouted, silently berating himself for a useless fool as his silk-clad first mate skillfully avoided the collision without over-correcting and taking their stern out on the bridge instead. “If we live through this,” he said as Kyrios surrendered the wheel to him again, “I may just retire and hand this ship over to you after all.”
“You mean the wreckage, sir? To what do I owe such a magnificent boon?”
“Of course,” said Reikos, now twice embarrassed. “I did not mean to wreck her here, though. I’ll find some way to reward you. Right now, however, would you tell me what is happening behind us — while I keep my eyes forward?”
Kyrios turned, but had no time to answer before a second burst of cannon fire made Reikos duck and cringe, braced for a rain of shrapnel through his back — though he did manage to stay looking straight ahead this time, with both hands on the wheel.
“
Hell’s teeth!
” Kyrios spat. “That was Colara again. He’s come full stop on the other side — smart man — and just took out one of the Phaeros’ boats.”
Reikos sagged in relief. “Then Lord and Lady Phaero must have chosen the usurper too.”
“Did someone promise them a larger island, do you think?” Kyrios mused.
“That’s two debts we now owe Colara in the morning.”
“The Phaeros’ other boat got through, though. They’re not far behind us, sir, and gaining. Their draft’s far shallower than ours. They must not have had to turn as we did.”
“Molian!” Reikos shouted, turning for a quick glance back. “Can you hear me?”
“Aye, sir!” Molian’s voice echoed from the hatch. “We’ve only got one gun reloaded, sir!”
“Fire it at the little schooner just behind us! Now!”
“Aye, Captain! Firing now!”
There was a breathless pause. Eagent must not have jumped the gun this time. Then came the roar Reikos had been waiting for. He glanced back again in time to see their cannon ball punch uselessly into the water just to starboard of the Phaeros’ pretty little boat. Nonetheless, this seemed sufficient persuasion to make them drop back quickly out of range, which put
Fair Passage
out of their range too, as any cannon on a boat so small would have to be of lesser caliber.
“Should we fire the others, Captain?” Molian hollered up.
“Not yet!” called Reikos. He turned to Kyrios. “Look back there. Do they seem armed to fire from the bow?”
“I see gun hatches at the fore, Captain, but they’re closed, I think. It’s hard to tell. We’re mostly out of firelight on this side of the bridge.” Reikos realized then that there was very little burning on the shore to starboard, and nothing at all afire to port on Apricot. In fact, the island back here past the bridge seemed almost deserted. “Damn it,” he muttered. If they’d only known, he and Pino could just have brought the ladies ashore here in
Coppersmith
, and left his ship somewhere out of harm’s way.
“If I may take the wheel again, sir,” said Kyrios, “you might wish to have a look?”
“Of course, thank you,” Reikos said, surrendering the wheel.
Kyrios was right. It was much darker now. The Phaeros’ remaining dollhouse schooner seemed little more than a shadow under its ghostly sails. From beyond the receding bridge came yet another volley of cannon fire, clearly not directed at
Fair Passage
this time either. Colara clearly knew a tactical advantage when he saw one. As long as the Phaeros’ lone little boat kept its safe distance, things ought to get pretty quiet for a while now.
“Right,” said Reikos, turning to retrieve the wheel from Kyrios. “Now I need to know how much longer we’ll have this channel, and what I must do to keep us in it.”
Kyrios gave his chart a glance or two, in between nervous glances back at the Phaeros’ little schooner. “Just keep on as you are, sir. It stays along the starboard shoreline at about this distance all the way to that great old column rising from the bay ahead.” He scrutinized his chart more carefully, and frowned. “After that, things will get very dicey, I’m afraid.”
“
Abandon ship
dicey?” Reikos asked. “Or just … Look — what I really need to know is if there’s even the remotest possibility of getting us out the other side of this somewhere. If not, we might as well just blow the Phaeros’ schooner from the water to be safe, then drop anchor here and take one of the lifeboats in to shore. If Colara’s going to sit there playing gatekeeper for us, I imagine we’ve left most of the larger boats behind now, which means any help we had to offer the Factora-Consort is exhausted.”
“Well …” Kyrios said dubiously. “As the tide
is
high right now … if we’re very, very clever … and don’t have to waste too much more time on further skirmishes …” He turned the chart this way and that, seeming to follow some very convoluted line of movement. “There may be a tiny chance of getting all the way out — between Cutter’s and Phaero, as it happens. It’s hard to tell, though — especially in this light.”
The binnacle lamp was flickering; out of oil, Reikos thought with irritation. They’d had a lot to think about as they’d rushed out of Cutter’s. “Dolous!” he shouted. “Get two of those lamps up here from the bow, immediately! The brightest ones!”
“That should help, though maybe just to see why I was wrong,” said Kyrios.
“Let’s stay optimistic.” Reikos grinned, not really having thought they’d get even this far.
“Wait … Captain?” Kyrios had turned to look back again at the Phaeros’ schooner. “They’re falling off to port. Fast and wide. Are they leaving us, or …”
“Are my eyes deceiving me, Kyrios,” Reikos asked, peering at the shifting moonlit water up ahead of them, “or do you see something lying on the surface there?”
“Oh! Captain, it’s a pier, I think!”
“Across
the channel
?” Reikos blurted, wrenching at the wheel.
“To port, sir! Hard to port!”
“I’m trying!” Reikos yelled, already knowing that, given their size and speed, they weren’t going to miss it. “Oh to hell with it!” he spat, turning the wheel back to straighten their course.
“What are you —”
“I’m praying it is not a sturdy pier!” he shouted, seeing no point in ordering the sails emptied either. The more speed now, the better. “We stand a better chance of punching through it head-on than broadside!
All hands brace for impact!
” he shouted to his crew. “
Leave the sails — and ’ware that mainmast topgallant!
”
It had been half an hour, at least, since anyone had spoken. Arian, Sian and Pino were all lost in their own thoughts — or licking their own wounds, having sailed all the way down Home’s western shore, and still found no safe landing. As
Coppersmith
veered east around the island’s southwestern corner, the wind and rougher waters finally started to abate, at least. Though her embarrassing motion sickness had not returned since Sian had taken it away, Arian’s aging spine was well past putting up politely with the constant jouncing up and down. From this side of the island, the burning Factorate House upon its hilltop could no longer be seen either, for which she was deeply grateful.
Sian and she had long since abandoned any attempt to stay hidden. If they’d not been seen already, hiking off the port side of the boat while racing out of Home’s great harbor, there seemed little cause for concern now, out here alone, lit by nothing but the moon.
“Pino, have you noticed those lights back there?” Sian pointed off their stern at a cluster of small boats almost too far behind them to be seen but for their lanterns.
Pino turned to look. “Lots of boats off Home tonight, my lady.”
“Yes, but they’ve been following us for some time — and getting closer, I believe.”
He looked again, then shrugged. “Maybe they’re looking for safe portage too. They’re too far away to cause us any trouble, though — or even see us here, most likely.”
“If we don’t find someplace soon,” said Arian, “we may just have to try dropping anchor out here somewhere and swimming in to shore. There can’t be that many hours left before dawn arrives and robs us even of whatever cover darkness might provide.”
“The tide is high, my lady,” Pino said apologetically. “Most of the beaches here are under water, leaving only cliff face — likely why the few landings we’ve passed were all so crowded.”
“The cliffs should end soon,” she replied. “The island slopes more gently to the south.”
“Are you a sturdy swimmer, my lady?” Pino asked dubiously. “Your dresses …”
“Our silks are light and long,” Arian answered. “Easily tied around our waists or shoulders, if necessary.” She looked inquisitively at Sian, who nodded her agreement. “My husband told me when I came here that I would be spending half my life on boats now, and must learn to swim. I have found it quite an enjoyable activity, actually. Let’s stop looking for a landing and just find an empty patch of shore with any kind of access to the land above.”