Neeps or Marila could have gone instead!'
'And shouted at an empty corner of the mercy deck? No, Thasha, Neeps and Marila would have been stopped and questioned, and their faces would have given us all away. But you are right about the danger to Felthrup. Master Mugstur has excommunicated him, and in the rat-king's twisted ethos those who stray from Rin's path must all be killed.'
'I'm going to look for him too,' said Thasha. 'I'll take Suzyt and Jorl; they know his scent. Rose will throw a fit, though, if I don't hurry back to the quarterdeck.'
'We ixchel should do the searching,' said Diadrelu. 'We can enter the rat-spaces no human eye can pierce. Ensyl, go to Night Village. I do not have much hope that Taliktrum will listen to you, but you must try. Invoke the honour of the clan. Perhaps he will concede to a party of volunteers.
'As for me, Lady Thasha, I throw myself on your hospitality. There is no home for me among my people: indeed they are under edict to slay me, 'before I further endanger the clan.' '
'That edict will be lifted,' said Ensyl hotly.
Diadrelu shook her head. 'Some things cannot be undone. I have disobeyed the clan leader in a moment of crisis, and Taliktrum has drawn family blood.'
'Wait and see, mistress,' said Ensyl. 'In time they will beg you to return.'
She glanced once more at Thasha, then turned and vanished behind the bathtub.
'We have a trapdoor there,' said Diadrelu.
'I can't say I'm glad to hear it,' said Thasha. 'Oh, I'm happy that you and Ensyl can come and go. But it proves there's a gap in the magic wall. Could it be getting larger? What if it's about to fail?'
Suddenly a cry arose on the topdeck: 'Sail ho! Jistrolloq at eight miles!'
'They've rounded Sandplume!' said Thasha. 'By the Tree, that was fast! I've got to get up there — although helping Rose is the last thing I feel like doing.'
'Help him,' said Diadrelu firmly. 'You have little hope of finding Felthrup, even with your dogs. And there will be no point in finding him if the White Reaper blasts us to pieces.'
Rose did need her help, for when she returned there were no less than seven ghost-captains upon the quarterdeck, flickering in and out of existence. Three were dogging Rose's heels, arguing over tactics in voices laced with sarcasm and antique slang. Another, an ugly, woolly-bearded giant with a naked cutlass in his hand, stood growling and threatening near the wheelhouse, his eyes on an oblivious Alyash. The others milled about the deck, hectoring the living despite the fact that only Rose had any notion of their presence.
Thasha had her orders, but it was hard to face a deck full of ghosts, every one of which had commanded the ship from this very spot. Nor did she relish talking to thin air in front of Elkstem, Alyash and the half-dozen others crowding the quarterdeck. That's why he needs me to do it, she thought, to keep him from looking a perfect lunatic.
'My heart's in the heavens,' she sang out boldly, climbing the ladder, 'my soul is the Tree, my dance is for ever, I fear not thee!'
The ghosts all turned to face her, and the cutlass-wielding giant, who was nearest, simply faded away. The others scattered about the deck, looking startled and irritated. Thasha was startled as well: the Lorg School chant had been far less effective against the wraiths in the Crab Fens.
'Very, uh, good, Missy,' said Alyash, obviously confused. 'We're not afraid of them Black Rags, are we?'
Thasha shot him a piercing look. You're one yourself, you liar.
Whether the chant or something else altogether had affected them, the remaining ghosts did not want to be anywhere near her. Confident now, Thasha pursued them around the mast and the wheelhouse. They dodged and scurried; it was a bit like playing tag. One by one they vanished from her sight. But as the last captain faded, he pointed at her with a long, blackened nail. 'Tonight,' he said, and was gone.
For some time afterwards she had little to do but watch the chase. It was worse than being busy, even with gruesome tasks. Rose turned them south; the Jistrolloq tacked instantly to a diagonal intercept, and Rose had no option but to set them east again. The wind was dying, which played into the enemy's hands. By mid-afternoon just six miles separated the ships.
Pazel, skulking behind the wheelhouse, would not look at her. Fine, she thought, go boil yourself in the Pits. But more than once she had the feeling he was watching her, though she never quite caught him in the act.
Rose spent much of this time at his campaign desk, his back to the Jistrolloq, sketching. When Thasha sidled close enough for a glance she saw a page covered with tiny pencilled numbers, long arrows, rough outlines of hulls.
At four bells he stood and latched the desk shut. 'Come, Thasha, Pathkendle. We shall dine in my cabin. Mr Elkstem, I will have updates by speaking-tube.'
Thasha and Pazel followed Rose down the ladder. They did not go immediately to the cabin, however, but walked the whole length of the Chathrand, squeezing through the busy mass of men. Thasha thought the sailors looked as frightened as any crowd she had ever been among, but as Rose passed with a smouldering gaze each man seemed to concentrate just a bit harder on his task, as if those eyes could strip away distractions like a knife stripping bark from a switch. On their return Rose paused here and there to murmur to the watch-captains, and behind their backs Thasha heard the officers shouting: 'Captain Rose is formidable proud of you, lads! Says you're the picture of an Imperial crew! His very words!'
She glanced over her shoulder, slightly awed. Rose's casual manner was doing wonders to keep the sailors calm, and the compliments, which he never gave in easy times, were bringing smiles to their faces. Crazy or not, she thought, he's blary good at what he does.
Lady Oggosk joined them at table. Pazel visibly stiffened at the sight of her — and also, it appeared, at being once more in Rose's cabin. He was glancing about with a savaged expression, and Thasha reflected again that she knew almost nothing of what had been done to Pazel since the Turachs dragged him away.
'Something new in here since your last visit, Pathkendle,' said Rose, striding forwards. 'Which of you can tell me what these are?'
Ranged along the gallery windows were four stout, wide-mouthed cannon, their carriages tightly lashed to the deck. Behind them, bolted rigid as a mast, stood a long wooden rack about three feet high, and dangling from the rack were twenty or thirty canvas sacks, each one ending in a small iron disc. The sacks were about the size of hams, and bulged as if filled with giant marbles.
'They're grapeshot guns,' said Thasha.
'Not much use against an armoured hull, are they?' Pazel added.
Rose looked sternly at the two youths, and made no answer. 'Let us sit down,' he said at last.
During the meal they spoke very little. The steward poured four glasses of cloudy wine. Rose ate like a horse at a feed-bag, eyes downcast, jaw working non-stop. Lady Oggosk mashed her food with her fingers, while her red cat snored peacefully in a spot of sun.
All the while the Jistrolloq was plainly visible through the gallery windows. By the time they finished eating she was within three miles.
'Tell us, Pathkendle,' said Rose suddenly, 'what would your father do in these circumstances, if he were in command?'
Pazel was taken aback. 'I don't know,' he said. 'Edge his way south, maybe. Look for higher seas.'
'You misunderstand the question,' said Rose. 'I meant, what would Captain Gregory do if he commanded the Jistrolloq, and wanted to take us? He must have learned to think like a Black Rag, after serving with them for years. And of course your presence on Chathrand would present no obstacle. Gregory sailed away from Cape Coristel without a backward glance at you, didn't he? And we know he doesn't shrink from firing on his kin.'
Pazel had spent almost six years as a bonded servant, and five months under Captain Rose. He was not, Thasha knew, particularly easy to shock. But the brutality of Rose's offhand comment slipped past his defences. His eyes widened, and a spasm of anger twisted his face.
Under the table, Thasha furtively touched his hand. Pazel was on the verge of doing something drastic, something Neeps-like: overturning the table, or cursing Rose at the top of his lungs. But at her touch he managed to check himself, bite back the words trying to detonate on his tongue.
'Well,' he said, breathing hard, 'let's see. I suppose he might think back on what he knows about the enemy — about you, in other words. He might say to himself, 'Right, here's this old shifty captain who's famous for his nastiness-' '
