Caro leaned forward and cracked his knuckles.
“Don’t push it, cap’n. We don’t wanna hurt you. Just sit quiet and relax.”
Ghassan straightened.
“Very well, Mister Caro. I hereby officially charge you with attempted mutiny and have no choice but to bring you before the authorities on our return, if you survive that long.”
The oarsman rumbled deep in his throat.
“I ought to…”
Ghassan cut him off with a shout.
“You ought to what, mister Caro?”
He nodded inwardly as he watched the man reach down to one of the supply crates wallowing in the bottom of the boat. Predictably, Caro wrenched at the crate’s lid and tore a short length of wood from it, gripping it tight enough that his knuckles whitened.
Ghassan treated him to a smile. This was a critical moment. To lose now was to lose everything, but to win in the wrong way would be to cause anger and resentment and to invite further challenges. He sized the man up. Caro was big and strong, and any blow by the man would hurt tremendously, but would be wild and fuelled by frustration and anger. Ghassan had the luxury of already knowing what he needed to do and how to bring that about. He smiled as he looked at the man’s face, those dark eyes glowering under a heavy brow. The oarsman’s hair was short, as was his beard, but one eyebrow ran along the ridge above his nose… a nice, straight nose.
He hated to lose people, but better one than all.
“Why’re you smilin’?” the man asked uncertainly.
“Because I know something that I believe you do not, mister Caro. And because of that, I give you one free shot. Make it count, as, if you can put me down with that shot, the crew is yours.”
As he finished speaking, he shuffled forward into the space between the crew and held his arms out level from his shoulders. Caro stared at him.
“Changed your mind, sailor?” Ghassan asked lightly.
The man flared for a moment and launched his attack, just as Ghassan had hoped. He had goaded the man into wasting his opportunity. The blow was heavy, as Caro swung the plank, angling the makeshift weapon so that it landed with the edge rather than the flat. Ghassan felt bones break: probably two ribs, but maybe even three. This had better settle things, as he’d be in a bad state to deal with anyone else afterwards.
He collapsed to the bottom of the boat, hurled to one side by the force, the wind knocked from him. Caro had stood and, as Ghassan pulled himself back from the floor, he realised how stupid the man must be to get to his feet in a rowing boat. Indeed, he’d just made Ghassan’s job harder. If he did this wrong now, the sailor would end up in the water, swimming around and waiting to come back for the next shot.
Slowly, he pulled himself upright, grunting at the excruciating pain in his side. Caro was grinning at him.
“C’mon cap’n. Stay down so I don’t have to really hurt you.”
Still grunting and with heaving breaths, Ghassan stood straight. If Caro stood, he would have to as well.
“My turn”, the captain said, flexing his fingers.
Caro gave a deep belly laugh.
“Come on then, cap’n. I’ll give you a freebie too, but then I’s gonna have to put you down hard.”
Ghassan nodded as the sailor mimicked his earlier stance, arms held out to the sides.
“Fair enough.”
There were certain things he’d learned from his uncle, but they involved fighting like a soldier, with weapons and there were others that he’d picked up when he headed a boarding party. Then there were a few things he’d learned when still a boy on board, serving in whatever lowly position was required. In those days, he’d been careful to pick up anything anyone would teach him. And throughout his life, he had come to the inescapable conclusion that strength and endurance were no match for planning and accuracy.
With a lightning-quick blow like the attack of a coiled snake, Ghassan lunged out with his right arm, palm open and fingers up as he straightened the limb into the blow. The heel of his hand connected with Caro at the upper lip and carried through, driving the mutineer’s nose bone deep into his brain and exploding the man’s face in a shower of blood.
Ignoring the shocked silence that fell around him, Ghassan stared into the surprised and suddenly lifeless eyes of his opponent and then reached out and grasped him by the shoulder before he fell overboard. Gently, in the stunned quiet, he lowered the body to the seat once more and left him to loll there, flopping to the left to end up draped across a horrified sailor.
“He’ll need a proper burial when we beach, so I’ll also need a burial party. Am I clear?”
The chorus of affirmative voices brought a wave of relief to the captain and he sat heavily in the bow once more and tentatively prodded his side.
That was going to take a long time to heal.
Fortunately, time was not something he was currently lacking.
In which new plans are laid
Asima tapped her fingers irritably on the rail at the stern of the Empress. Samir seemed to be largely unconcerned and whistled quietly as he made minute adjustments in course according to the compass in his hands. As seemed to be always the case these days, what irritated Asima was the lack of control she felt; helpless to direct her own destiny and Samir’s irritatingly smug calm in the face of danger merely heightened the aggravation she felt.
“You’re supposed to be a remarkable sailor, Samir, so why are we going as slowly as those following us? Can you not find a tiny turn of extra speed and put us further ahead of them?”
Samir laughed.
“Asima, these rocks are extremely dangerous and unpredictable. I go at whatever speed safe passage affords; no more and no less.”
“But as soon as we get past the reefs, those other ships will be virtually on top of us. Can you really outrun them all when we hit open sea?”
“Perhaps… probably not. We could outrun most ships, but we’re short a number of oarsmen, so we’ll be lucky to stay ahead of them at all.”
His passenger ground her teeth audibly.
“So why are you looking so pleased with yourself?”
“Because I rarely leave anything to chance these days, Asima. You should appreciate that. I have a feeling you live by similar rules... if different ethics.”
“I hope you’re right and not merely being smug and self-aggrandising.”
“Ha.”
She gritted her teeth as Samir narrowed his eyes and peered past the masts toward the front of the ship.
“What now?” she barked angrily, not taking her eyes from the vague shapes behind them. The fog had thinned a little as they left the clinging, steamy vegetation of the island. There was still a blanket of white but, since they had been among the reefs, she had begun to see their pursuers more clearly, though it had taken an effort of will to keep her attention from wandering repeatedly to the desperate and gloomy figures occupying the rocks. She had counted at least three vessels but had a feeling there were four or five back there in the mist, following their own directions from the other ‘dead man’s compass’ on the lead ship.
“Almost out of the reefs. I can see open water ahead and the mist’s almost clear. That’ll be a relief. I’m starting to miss the sight of the stars and that wonderful white moonlight.”
“A relief?”
Asima fell angrily silent for a moment. Clearly Samir was unconcerned and unwilling to explain himself to her so it was time to plan ahead on the assumption that he knew what he was doing and change the subject.
“I’m still very much in the dark as to what you intend now, Samir?”
“Hmm?” he prompted, concentrating on his rudder.
“Well, you’re in the same position you were before you dragged me to Lassos, but now you’ve got pirates chasing us as well. You said you couldn’t go near the coast as they’d be looking for you.”
Samir smiled.
“I’ve got a day or two at the least until news reaches anyone. Pelasia will learn about it first. Ghassan will have landed there and news travels fast there, as you’ll know. Can’t go to Calphoris though, as they’ve got it in for me anyway. So I shall make for M’Dahz, but by a roundabout route.”
Asima rounded on him angrily.
“What? Then you could have taken me there first!”
“Asima, calm down. I was unable to do so before, but things have now changed. I shall take you to M’Dahz in due course. First thing’s first, though. Got to get clear of pursuit. I can’t just breeze into M’Dahz on board one of the most notorious vessels afloat and drop you on the dock. Be sensible. So we need to disappear altogether for a while.”
“You’re being needlessly cryptic again.”
Samir laughed.
“We’ve taken on some cargo during the night at Lassos. As soon as we’re out of sight of other vessels, our colours change, as do our clothes and even the name on the ship. Given about an hour, we will no longer be the Dark Empress, but the Spirit of Redemption, a private Imperial merchant out of Serfium.”
“You’re going to pretend to be another ship?” she blinked in surprise.
“Certainly” Samir smiled. “How else do you think we’ve ever got into Calphoris or M’Dahz? It’s dangerous, so I don’t like to do it unless it’s imperative, but there are odd occasions when we have to go places that are really way too dangerous for us.”
Asima shook her head in disbelief.
“So you change your flag and your shirt and then drop into M’Dahz? That’s ridiculous. Don’t they check you or anything?”
“Of course they do. That’s why we’re not going there straight away. There are half a dozen convenient small towns along the archipelago and on the coast of both Pelasia and the Empire that we can trade our goods in and even make a little money en-route. Then, when we get to M’Dahz and they check our manifest we’ll have plenty of supporting evidence for our story.”
He raised an eyebrow as he noted the speculative look on Asima’s face.
“I cannot fathom what that dangerous mind of yours is cooking up now, but I would recommend against it.”
With an angry flash in her eyes, Asima turned once more to gaze into the rapidly thinning fog behind them. Four vessels, moving painstakingly slowly through the reefs, each captain relaying the orders from the leading ship. What was Samir up to?
The last of the rocks drifted past, an old man with hopeless eyes in a drenched grey robe fixing her with an accusative stare as he slid by. Again, in spite of herself, Asima found herself shuddering.
“Very well, Samir. We’re in open water. What now?”
“Now”, he replied with a grin “we set as good a pace as we can out into the open sea, bearing south west.”
“I meant about our pursuers!”
“Watch and enjoy, Asima.”
Aggravated as always by his slightly smug silence, she turned and watched as their pursuers came on relentlessly, a line of vessels in perfect coordination, echoing one another’s movements like…
She blinked. Something was clearly wrong out there. The lead ship had turned to port… no wait… to starboard; her port. She would never get the hang of sailing. The vessels following closely, however, seemed to have received incorrect information. There were sudden bellows of alarm. The front ship quickly slewed to a halt almost side on, stuck between rocks that prevented further passage. Behind them, chaos ensued as ships desperately came to a stop, receiving either no instructions or incorrect ones from the leading vessel.
Asima narrowed her eyes.
“That wasn’t an accident, and I don’t see how you could have done it?”
Samir smiled.
“Every gambler worth his salt has a card up his sleeve.”
“But you haven’t been on board their ship. You couldn’t even have known whether they’d follow us at all, let alone who it would be? And you haven’t had the opportunity to lay a trap. So what happened?”
Samir tapped the side of his nose and smiled at her, before cupping his free hand round his mouth and shouting out the order for full speed, both sail and oars. Behind him, Asima grumbled and glared at him. Why would he continually reveal everything he did to her, despite his professed lack of trust, and yet withhold what seemed to be a small detail.
She narrowed her eyes again. There was something going on here. Samir had plans, for sure. He’d said as much to her; and they appeared to involve his designs on rule in Lassos, which she could heartily understand. But he was using her somehow and it infuriated her that she could see that and could feel it happening, but had no idea how it was happening.
Well she’d been thinking too and it was time for the lady Asima, former consort of the King of Pelasia, to begin working her way back to power. For some time since being taken from Ghassan’s ship, she had pondered on her best course of action once she returned to the mainland. When the Wind of God had disappeared beneath the waves, it had taken most of her belongings with it. She had saved the most important and the most valuable items about her person, yet with diminished funds it would be all the more difficult to set herself up as an eligible widow, beautiful and young, to trap a high lord of the Pelasian court.
But now funds would be largely irrelevant. Samir had used her as part of some plan she could not fathom, and a plan that was clearly still in progress, but it would never come to fruition.