'Four dromons!' Vole called down suddenly.
Crust stared up at the idiot. 'We're in the harbour! What did you expect? That's it, Vole, no more sending your meals up there – haul your carcass down here!'
'Cutting in from the north, Captain. 'Top the masts… something glinting silver…'
Crust's scowl deepened. It was damned dark out there. But Vole was never wrong. Silver… that's not good. No, that's plain awful. He strode over to Palet and nudged the man. 'Get up. Send what's left of the crew back to those warehouses – I don't care who's guarding them, bribe the bastards. I want us low in the water and scuttling outa here like a three-legged crab.'
The man looked up at him with owlish eyes. 'Captain?'
'Did they knock all sense from your brain, Palet? Trouble's coming.'
Sitting up, the First Mate looked round. 'Guards?'
'No, a whole lot troubler.'
'Like what?'
'Like the Empress, you fool.'
Palet was suddenly on his feet. 'Supplies, aye, sir. We're on our way!'
Crust watched the fool scamper. The crew was drunk. Too bad for them.
They were sorely undermanned, too. It'd been a bad idea, diving into the bay when old Ragstopper went down, what with all those sharks.
Four good sailors had been lost that night. Good sailors, bad swimmers. Funny how that goes together.
He looked round once more. Damn, done forgot again, didn't I? No dinghies. Well, there's always something.
Four dromons, visible now, rounding into the bay, back-lit by one of the ugliest storms he'd ever seen. Well, not entirely true – he'd seen the like once before, hadn't he? And what had come of it? Not a whole lot… except, that is, a mountain of otataral…
The lead dromon – Laseen's flagship, The Surly. Three in her wake.
Three, that was a lot – who in Hood's name has she brought with her? A damned army?
Uninvited guests.
Poor Aragan.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Who are these strangers, then, with their familiar faces?
Emerging from the crowd with those indifferent eyes, and the blood streaming down from their hands.
It is what was hidden before, masked by the common and the harmless, now wrenching features revealed in a conflagration of hate and victims tumble underfoot.
Who led and who followed and why do flames thrive in darkness and all gaze, insensate and uncomprehending, come the morning light, upon the legacy of unleashed spite? I am not fooled by wails of horror. I am not moved by expostulations of grief. For I remember the lurid night, the visage flashing in firelit puddles of blood was my own.
Who was this stranger, then, with that familiar face?
Melting into the crowd in the fraught, chaotic heave, and the blood raging in the storm of my skull boils frantic as I plunge down and lay waste all these innocent lives, my hate at their weakness a cauldron overturned, whilst drowning in my own, this stranger, this stranger…
On the Dawn I Take My Life
The Wickan Pogrom
Kayessan As the longboat from the Jakatakan fleet's flagship drew up alongside, the commander and four marines quickly clambered aboard the Froth Wolf.
They were Untan, one and all, bedecked in elaborate, expensive armour, the commander tall, weak-chinned with a watery, uneasy look in his pale eyes. He saluted Admiral Nok first, and then the Adjunct.
'We were not expecting you for months, Adjunct Tavore.'
Arms crossed, Fist Keneb stood a short distance away, leaning against the mainmast. After the commander's words, Keneb shifted his attention to the marines. Is that parade kit you're wearing? And then he noticed their expressions of disdain and hatred as the soldiers stared over to where stood Nil and Nether. Keneb glanced round, then hesitated.
The Adjunct spoke, 'Your name, Commander?'
A slight bow. 'My apologies, Adjunct. I am Exent Hadar, of House Hadar in Unta, firstborn-'
'I know the family,' Tavore cut in, rather sharply. 'Commander Hadar, tell your marines to stand down immediately – if I see one more hand casually touch a sword grip they can swim back to your ship.'
The commander's pale eyes flicked to Admiral Nok, who said nothing.
Keneb relaxed – he had been about to walk over to strip the hides from those fools. Adjunct Tavore, you miss nothing, do you? Ever. Why do you continue to surprise me? No, wrong way of putting that – why am I constantly surprised? 'Apologies again,' Hadar said, his insincerity obvious as he gestured to his guards. 'There have been a succession of, uh, revelations-'