let slip a muffled oath. Following his gaze, Tiriki saw the faraway glow of the dying land rapidly expanding in a swirl of flames.
‘Hold on!’ Reidel’s voice rang out behind them. ‘Everyone – grab something and hold on!’ He already had one arm around the mainmast, but he and Chedan barely had time to clasp Tiriki between them as the ship’s stern lifted, sending unsecured gear and sleepers sliding. With a scream, someone went over the side. The masts groaned, sails flapping desperately as the ship continued to lift until it hung poised on the very crest of the swell. Behind them a long slope of shining water stretched back toward the fires of Ahtarrath, perhaps ten miles away. Then the wave passed, and the stern tipped as the ship began a long slide back down. Further and further yet they plummeted until Tiriki thought the ravening sea meant to swallow them whole. The ship bucked, seeking balance on the water, but the overstressed mainmast cracked and came crashing down. The Crimson Serpent shuddered as waves whipped around it.
It seemed a long time before the ship came to rest again, rocking gently with the tide. Reidel’s lantern was nowhere to be seen. The faint phosphorescence that danced along the wave crests was the only light. There were no stars above, and the fires of Ahtarrath had sunk, finally and forever, beneath the sea.
The next morning Chedan jerked upright with a snort and realized that against all expectation, he had been fast asleep. It was day, and that too, he supposed, was more than any of them should have dared to expect after the violence of the night before. It was a daylight, however, in which very little could be seen. He could hear quite clearly the omnipresent creaking of wood as the ship rolled on the swell, the gurgle of water beneath her bows, and the cries of seabirds as they bobbed like corks all around. A clammy grey fog rested between the sea and sky. It felt as if they were sailing through another world.
Although Chedan had often enough found danger in his wanderings, he could not remember ever having been quite so uncomfortable. His back ached from the odd posture he’d slept in, and there was, he perceived, a splinter in his elbow. That’s what I get for not going below, he lectured himself as he plucked it out. He wished a lifetime of experience could help now to take him home.
With a sigh and a yawn, he drew in his feet as four sailors, sweating even in this chilly dawn, carried the top half of the mainmast past him. The sailors had unstepped the lower half of the mast from its base and cut chunks from both broken ends so that they could be fitted back together. Spliced and splinted with rope bindings the mast might be strong enough to support its sail.
If the winds stay moderate. If no natural disaster comes to finish what the magic of dead men started…Chedan sighed. Bah! Gloomy thoughts for a gloomy day! At least Reidel has the sense to keep his men busy. He hauled himself to a standing position, just long enough to sit down on one of the row of storage chests permanently bolted to the deck.
As he sat massaging his aching elbow, he saw Iriel moving with exaggerated caution through the broken crates and other odd items that littered the deck. Dark shadows beneath her eyes betrayed her strain, but she had put a brave face on. Indeed, her look of resolve warmed him more, he guessed, than would the bowl of steaming liquid that she carried so carefully in both hands.
She held it out to him, saying, ‘They have a fire going in the galley, and I thought you might like some tea.’
‘Dear girl, you are a lifesaver!’ A poor choice of phrase, he thought as he saw her blanch.
‘Are we lost?’ Her hands shook with the effort she was making to remain calm. ‘You can tell me the truth. Are we all going to die out here?’
‘My child,’ Chedan began, with a startled shake of his head.
‘I am not a child,’ Iriel interrupted, a little sharply, ‘you can tell me the truth.’
‘My dear – all here are like children to me,’ Chedan reminded her, and sipped gratefully at the hot tea. ‘More to the point, Iriel, you are asking the wrong question. We are all going to die – eventually. That is the meaning of mortality. But before that happens we must learn to live! So let’s not gloom about. You have made a good beginning by helping me.’ He looked around, and saw a torn meal sack lying on the deck, threatening to spill what remained of its contents.
‘See if you can round up the acolytes. We’ll make that meal into porridge and spare some sailor the trouble of cleaning it up.’
‘What a good idea,’ came a new voice. He turned and saw Tiriki shaking off the tangle of blankets in which she had passed the night. She rose and moved toward him, her steps somewhat uncertain on the gently rolling deck. ‘Good morning, Master Chedan. Good morning, Iriel.’
‘My lady.’ Iriel bowed in the customary greeting, and then again to Chedan, before running off in search of the other acolytes.
‘I don’t know how she does it,’ Tiriki commented, as they watched her go. ‘I can hardly keep my knees from knocking.’
‘Sit beside me,’ Chedan invited; ‘you look a bit green. Would you like some of this tea?’
‘Thank you,’ she said, and swiftly lowered herself onto the sea chest beside him. ‘But I don’t know about drinking anything. My stomach is uneasy this morning. It’s not surprising. I…have never cared much for the sea.’
‘The trick is not to focus on the horizon,’ Chedan advised. ‘Look beyond that – you just have to get used to it. Putting something in your belly will steady it, believe it or not.’
Her expression was dubious, but she accepted the tea bowl, and dutifully sipped. ‘I heard you talking to Iriel,’ she said, soberly. ‘How many more of us are gone?’
‘We have been lucky, all in all. Two or three persons went overboard when the wave hit, but only Alammos was not recovered. He was a warder in the library. I didn’t really know him, but—’ He forced his voice to steady. ‘Five of the acolytes made it to this ship. We must hope that the others are with Micail. And there are a few others of the priests’ caste – Liala has them all settled, or as well as can be expected. The crew is more of a problem. The greater number of them are from Alkonath and proud of it. In fact, Reidel had to break up a fistfight only a while ago.’ Chedan glanced at her and, seeing that her face was troubled, watched her closely as he went on.
‘Considering how difficult that broken mainmast will make everything, we must be thankful that the Crimson Serpent has a fully trained crew. When it comes to having little experience with the sea, well, that’s one thing the priests’ caste shares with the townsfolk – we are landlubbers all, although most, at least, are relatively young and strong. No, truly things could be much worse.’
Tiriki nodded, her features again almost as calm as Chedan hoped his were. Both of them might weep bitterly within, but for the sake of those who still depended on them, they must provide a steadfast appearance of hope.
Looking away, he caught sight of Reidel picking his way toward them through the debris on the deck.
‘Why isn’t this stowed away already?’ Reidel was muttering, with the fiercest of frowns. ‘The moment the mast is up – my apologies.’
‘No need,’ said Tiriki quickly. ‘Your first duty is the seaworthiness of the ship. We are comfortable enough—’
He gave her a startled look, and she thought again that he seemed overly stern for one so young. ‘With respect, my lady, it was not your pardon I asked. To see my
