Rose lifted an eyebrow.
''-and his greed, and for being afraid of a shipboard cat, and for the fact that he writes letters to-' '
'Silence, bastard!' shrieked Lady Oggosk, rising from her chair and pointing at Pazel. 'Never, never was there a lowborn with such a reckless tongue! Walk out of here, you insolent Ormali gutter-dog, before the captain has you-'
'Peace!' Rose slammed his palm against the table. 'Lady Oggosk, your defence is unnecessary. Pathkendle remains confused, no more. Look out that window, lad, and your confusion will evaporate.'
Rose turned and gestured at the Jistrolloq, bright white in the sun and near enough now to count the seven falling stars on her forecourse. 'There stands a man, Kuminzat, who's crossed half the known world in our pursuit. Ott tells me that his daughter was a sfvantskor, or soon to be, and that she was killed by the incubus Arunis hurled at their old priest.'
'You knew.' Thasha sat up, eyes widening with anger. 'You knew about the incubus. You knew what the Sizzies accused us of was true, and denied it to their faces.'
'Very little occurs on the Great Ship that we don't know,' said Oggosk. 'You ought to keep that in mind, both of you.'
Thasha turned on her, bristling. 'Care to prove it?' she said. 'Can you tell me what Arunis has been doing while the Jistrolloq closes in? Or why he wants that sceptre almost as badly as the Nilstone? Or which of the crew might be spying on you for Sandor Ott?'
The old woman actually looked somewhat cowed. She dropped her eyes, as though Thasha's gaze was too sharp for her liking. 'I might if you gave me a reason,' she muttered uneasily.
'We are straying from the matter at hand,' said Rose. 'Pathkendle, what do you say to my challenge? Neither you nor I know that admiral's character. I have been substituting other men for him in my mind, and asking myself what each would do if he commanded the Jistrolloq. I would know what you think. Answer me, if you've a tenth the craftiness Rin gave your father. I have no more time to waste.'
Pazel's hand was tight on Thasha's own. 'Your question is a waste of time,' he said at last. 'I never sailed with my father. I don't know what skills he used, or what tactics.'
'Then leave tactics to me. What would Gregory have felt like? What would make him chase another vessel from Simja right down to the margins of the Ruling Sea?'
Pazel made as if to speak, then once again held his tongue. Rose smiled and shook his head.
'Not gold. If riches were his aim he could have sold his services to any number of lawless barons in the Rekere or the Crownless Lands, and become rich indeed. And not the rescue of his son. What's left? What would drive the resourceful Captain Gregory to do as Kuminzat's done, hazarding his very life and that of his crew?'
Pazel's grip on her hand was painful now, and a new fury shone in his eyes. 'Nothing, all right?' he said at last. 'Absolutely nothing would make my father go to so much trouble. He's as selfish as you.'
Rose shook his head, as if in wonder. 'From his own boy's mouth,' he said. 'Well now: that is good news. We can count on one hand the things a man will kill for. Love, lust, gold, honour, tribe: the raw ingredients of power. Ninety-nine men in a hundred will quickly show you which of these enslaves them. A ferocity lights 'em up when they're pursuing it, and there's no mistaking that look. All the trouble comes from the mystery man — that one man in a hundred who can keep his motives out of sight. Men like Gregory, you see.'
'And Admiral Kuminzat,' said Thasha.
'You have it, lass,' said Rose. 'Though my predecessors will keep babbling their theories. How I wish they'd shut up!'
He said the last words in a sudden fury, knocking his fists against his temples. Thasha averted her eyes. It was then that she noticed Lady Oggosk was staring at her — and also realised that she, Thasha, had shed a few silent tears. They were for Pazel, she supposed, and for herself, and the murdered topman, and the shame of so much wanting — love, lust, gold — but why did Oggosk look so enraged? The witch's eyes flickered down along Thasha's arm, extended subtly towards Pazel's lap, and Thasha knew she guessed that they were holding hands.
What's it to you, you hag?
Pazel too noticed Oggosk's look. With a start he pulled his hand away. Thasha turned and found him glaring at her. When he spoke it was against some deep resistance, as if he had to wring the words out of himself. But the words were lacerating.
'If I need pity I'll let you know,' he said. 'Meanwhile keep it to yourself. I'm — tired of this, see? Tired of being your charity case.'
'My what?'
'You think I'm dying for your attention. Like an Ormali should be, when a highborn Arquali girl stoops to help him, I guess. And you can spare me that wounded face. There's plenty aboard who'll be happy to tell you how special you are. Cross me off your list, that's all — leave me alone.'
He gave her a look that was almost deranged, then turned to Rose. 'As for your question, Captain Sir: you really ought to be asking Thasha, not me. She's good with tactics. But I'll tell you right now: ghosts or no ghosts, there's something wrong with a man who sits here tormenting people, just because he's realised that he can't outrun his enemy. That's cowardice, that is. Not that you'll ever admit it.'
No one at the table breathed. Thasha tensed herself for the fight of her life. Pazel had gone mad, Rose and Oggosk already were, and any sort of violence seemed possible. She'd lost her knife, she'd have to use things on the table, the serving fork, a shard of a plateThen Rose did the last thing on earth she expected. He laughed. A smile grew in the red thicket of his beard, looking like something transplanted from a merrier man. 'Outrun,' he said. 'Outrun.'
He raised his eyes to the skylight above the table, and the laugh grew until his great bulk fairly shook with mirth. And as he finished laughing the room suddenly darkened, for a heavy cloud had eclipsed the sun. At almost the same moment, on the quarterdeck, Mr Fiffengurt began to shout:
'Wind's turning! The wind's turning right about! Inform the captain, that's a north-easter blowin' in!'
A great commotion began overhead, and Rose put his hands on the table and heaved to his feet. Lumbering to his desk, wine in hand, he flipped open a speaking-tube and bellowed:
'South south-east, Mr Elkstem, and all the sail she'll bear. Full crews to their guns. I'm on my way.'
He drank the wine in a gulp and wiped his mouth.
'Back to the quarterdeck, Lady Thasha. And you, Pathkendle: stick to your schoolbooks; there's not a drop of sailor's blood in you. Have you forgotten that we must let no one set eyes on the Chathrand and live? I never spoke of escaping the Black Rags; the only question is how best to destroy them.'
29
24 Freala 941
The storm built quickly, as the new wind barrelled in from the north-east, carrying great black-hearted thunderheads and a sheet of advancing rain. By the time Pazel and Thasha reached the topdeck the topsails were all raised for the sudden turn, and the huge yards were once more being hauled into the teeth of the wind. The Black Shoulders were out of sight, and Bramian itself was a mere smudge on the western horizon, but the Jistrolloq looked frightfully close — under two miles, probably, and closing without a doubt.
Such sudden darkness. The clouds were sealing off the heavens like a sheet of tin; already the sun was banished to a bright streak in the south, drawing away much faster than they could advance. The waves were growing too: white-capped, they were cresting around the height of the upper gun deck. Pazel shuddered to imagine tiny Diadrelu in the stateroom, looking up at the grey-green water each time the Chathrand entered a trough. But neither waves nor wind had yet reached the awesome scale the Nelluroq was famed for, the kind that would swamp the enemy or force his retreat.
Thasha was shaking with emotion, though Pazel knew she was trying to hide it. He had never felt like such a
