with an Ormali's small, stay-at-home mind. I understand these things. But the world is large and cruel, Pazel. It needs Arqual more than ever.'
'That's not you talking,' said Pazel. 'That's just something they told you.'
'Something real,' said Dastu.
'I guess believing that is part of the exam, too,' said Thasha.
Dastu turned her a look that made the hair stand up on the back of Pazel's neck. But Sandor Ott just laughed. 'Yes, he said. 'An essential part — and the only part your tutor failed, Thasha Isiq. Hercol called it freedom of thought, but in fact his freedom began to bleed away the moment he left the Secret Fist. Was he free when he lived like a hunted thing in the Tsordons? Was he free when his lands were seized, his sister and her family beggared, his ancestral home in Tholjassa burned to the ground?'
Thasha twisted in his grasp. 'You!' she spat. 'Did you do those things to him?'
'He did them to himself, lass,' whispered Ott, pressing his lips even closer. 'And where is he now? In a cage, at the end of a wasted life. All for a withered old woman named Maisa — a cause as hopeless as petitioning the sun to rise in the west. Dastu, I'm glad to say, shows no such taste for lost causes.'
'You put it best, Master,' said Dastu. 'Arqual is the future of Alifros. In time we will need just one name, for world and Empire alike.'
'Boy,' said Rose, 'you've served your purpose well, but I don't give a damn for your Imperial platitudes. Fawn on your master elsewhere; for now concentrate on the task. Nine mutineers you spoke of; only seven have you produced.'
'Captain,' said Dastu, 'I fear I played the part too well. Undrabust and the stowaway girl meant to come, but I protested, the better to assure they'd not suspect I wanted-'
'Go and find them,' Rose interrupted. 'If they are still behind the magic wall, lure them out. Tell them their friends are in need; tell them whatever occurs to you. Haddismal, send a man along with him. I want the stateroom emptied once and for all.'
Dastu smiled. 'I have an idea already, Captain.' He looked to Ott, received a nod from the spymaster. Then he handed the fengas lamp to another Turach, and slipped out of the room with Haddismal's lieutenant.
Rose turned a stern and formal look on the captives before him, and pointed his sword at each in turn. 'Pazel Pathkendle. Thasha Isiq. As Captain and Final Offshore Authority of the IMS Chathrand, I hereby charge you with the crime of mutiny. The crime was both premeditated and sustained. You have held council with the aim of planning the seizure of this ship. You have recruited others to your cause. You have already assumed control of the admiralty-level stateroom, and held it by magical means, creating a space beyond the reach of shipboard justice. You have taken oaths to persevere in this crime as far as it leads — even to the destruction of this vessel, and the death of its entire crew.'
At the last words, Mr Fiffengurt began to squirm and kick, and cry out beneath his hood.
'Your quartermaster begs to differ,' said Rose. 'He would put all the blame for that last notion upon himself. But Dastu tells us that the whole council discussed the possibility — that you hoped it wouldn't come to that. Which means you accepted that it might.' Rose turned to the four captives seated behind him. 'Remove their hoods, Sergeant,' he said to Haddismal.
One by one the Turach unlaced the leather hoods and wrenched them free. Druffle spat at the commando, and received a blow that rang loud in the little chamber. Fiffengurt already had a gash across his forehead, straight as a chart line. Blood had trickled down one side of his nose, and left a cinnamon stain on his white whiskers.
'Pazel,' he said miserably, 'Miss Thasha. Forgive-'
'Silence!' barked Haddismal.
Big Skip was still and watchful, like a bear that has given up struggling in its chains. Bolutu, unhooded last of all, did not even glance at his captors. His eyes too went straight to Pazel and Thasha, but what was that keen glance trying to say? Help me? Save yourselves? Have faith in my plan?
A sudden glimmer of hope leaped in Pazel's mind. Dastu left the council before Bolutu told us that his masters could see through his eyes. He can't have told Rose and Ott. They don't know that we're being observed, that Bolutu's empire is expecting us.
Rose opened the chamber door, and beckoned. Turachs began to file into the room, hugely muscled men in leather armour, gauntlets, and short blades for close-quarters fighting. Two lifted the body of Khalmet and bore it from the room. The others, at a word from Haddismal, tugged the bound prisoners to their feet and made them face the captain.
'Mutiny has been a danger from this mission's inception,' said Rose. 'But despite yourselves, you have in fact helped me to prevent one.' Rose pointed at Pazel and Thasha in turn. 'I have known since Ormael that the two of you, along with Undrabust and Hercol Stanapeth, wished me harm. What I could not know was just who else might wish it also. But I did not have to find them, fortunately. I simply had to wait for you to find them for me.
Now his gaze swept all the prisoners. 'The punishment for mutiny is death. So is the attempted theft of a vessel belonging to a chartered interest of Arqual. I might have found a way to construe your crimes as falling short of these worst offences, but for the fact that you spoke of destroying this ship. For those who would hatch such a conspiracy there can be no second chances. You are all condemned men.
'The spell on the Shaggat forces me to delay most of your executions: you will be held in the brig until the matter of the Nilstone is resolved. We know Pathkendle is not the spell-keeper, but he too must wait a little longer for his punishment. That leaves us with Mr Sunderling, who joined the crew only after the spell was cast. Since you were in such haste to mutiny, sir, I see no reason to make a slow affair of your punishment.'
Big Skip's eyes went wide. 'Captain,' he said, low and serious, 'don't do it, sir. We weren't after your ship. I'm a good Arquali like you. It's a doomed voyage, sir, an evil one. You didn't want to be part of it no more than me. I've heard the talk. They sent the Flikkers after you, sir. They caught you with a ticket for an inland coach.'
'Take him aloft,' said Rose. 'Put him in stocks by the jiggermast, and nail the charges above his head.' He hesitated, studying the carpenter's mate. 'Give him some water. At midday tomorrow, he hangs.'
For an instant the room looked poised to explode. Thasha cried out; Ott had given her a warning nick below the ribcage, even as the captain spoke. Pazel whirled, and felt the captain's sword cut him through his shirt. 'Hold!' roared the captain.
Of course there was nothing else to be done in a room full of Turachs. But as he felt his flesh torn open by the blade Pazel's wisdom simply vanished. He struck at Rose's sword-arm, the fastest and most thoughtless blow he'd ever attempted, and felt the captain's wrist buckle. Rose howled in astonishment and pain, Haddismal leaped forwards with his dagger raised, Thasha screamed No! Then a foot out of nowhere struck Pazel's cheek with the force of a club: Ott's foot. He had kicked the youth without taking either hand away from Thasha.
The blow turned Pazel's body like a snapped towel. Mouth agape, he crashed into Rose. The captain seized him snarling and threw him to the floor. Something — perhaps the cold, wet draught through the planks — kept him from losing consciousness. Then Rose came down on top of him and took his throat in both hands. The ferocity of his grip, the excruciating pain, left no doubt as to his intentions. Pazel smashed his knees against the captain's ribs, but Rose only grunted, lifted Pazel's head and slammed it down against the boards.
'I had plans for you,' he said. 'Plans, or hopes at least. But I can damn well make other arrangements.'
He pressed his face to his victim's chest, for Pazel was clawing desperately at his eyes. Thasha was fighting Ott, Fiffengurt was begging the captain's mercy for the youths. And Pazel was dying. He knew that, even as his eyesight dimmed. There came an instant of mental lightning, when visions of his mother and Neda, Thasha and Neeps, Ramachni and the bright eyes of the murth-girl, all became beautifully distinct, like so many gorgeous playing cards fanned across a table. Then the visions began to wink out.
'Nilus!'
The voice shrieked, peremptory, commanding, from the crowded passageway. The captain jumped, relaxing his grip on Pazel's neck with an almost guilty haste. The voice was Lady Oggosk's.
Her red cat preceded her, slipping among the ankles of the room's startled men. Sniraga went directly to the captain and rubbed against his leg. Then Oggosk herself appeared, elbowing a path through the Turachs, who looked twice as big beside the tiny crone. She wore a black shawl over her arms, and pointed at the captain with her walking stick.
'What are you doing, Nilus? Get up, you look a perfect fool!'
'Oggosk, how dare you interfere!' said the captain through his teeth. 'Get back to your quarters; we will speak when I am finished here.'
