things pursuing them (ships, of course, but what kind, and why did the air quake above their decks?) were still distant, but already the gap was shortening. When the Chathrand put out topgallants and began her run, the three at once changed course. There could be no doubt: they meant to intercept the Great Ship.
And they were very fast. It was still impossible to say just how large they were, or what sort of weapons lay hidden in their dark, armored hulls. But one thing was perfectly clear: if nothing changed, they would catch the Chathrand in a matter of hours.
Rose tried to wake Prince Olik, but the dlomu only moaned and shivered.
“Toss him out in a lifeboat, Captain,” said Alyash. “You’ll soon learn if it’s him they’re after.”
“Don’t be an animal, Bosun!” said Fiffengurt. “He could capsize and drown in his sleep.”
“Or be picked up and tortured, or killed,” said Thasha. She gave Alyash a look of loathing. “How can you speak of such a thing?”
“Because it may have to be done,” said Rose. “Not yet, however. He’s a card up our sleeve-a royal card, for that matter. I’ll not toss him away until we’re dealt a better hand.”
How noble. Thasha glanced sidelong at Rose. Just when I was starting to think you might be human. But then with a flash of bitterness she reflected that she was no different: she kept who she needed, discarded the rest. Don’t think that way. You have a man now, and his name is Greysan Fulbreech.
When Thasha returned to the stateroom she caught Marila in her private cabin, going through the contents of her sea chest. Books, blouses, shirts, underthings lay about her in heaps. The Tholjassan girl was so flustered she let the lid of the chest fall on her thumb.
“Buchad!” she swore, jerking her hand away. Then, glaring at Thasha, she said, “Fine, I’m snooping. You’ve given me plenty of reason to, after all.”
“What are you looking for?” asked Thasha, her voice flat and cold.
“Some sign that you haven’t gone completely mad. Do you have any idea what you’re doing to him?”
“To Greysan?” Thasha asked, startled.
Marila looked as though she couldn’t believe her ears. “I was talking about Pazel. Remember Pazel, our friend? The one who’s got another twenty-four hours in the brig?”
“He put himself there,” said Thasha. “Greysan tried to make peace with him and got a black eye for his trouble.” She looked at a leather folder in Marila’s lap, from which trailed the edges of many crumpled papers. “That’s my blary letter satchel,” she said. “How dare you.”
The satchel contained the few letters she cherished-from her father, a few favorite aunts and uncles, and one particularly dear one from Hercol. It was still tied shut, but Marila’s intentions were plain. Controlling herself with effort, Thasha rounded her bed and held out her hand. “You had better leave,” she said.
Marila surrendered the letters. She trained her unreadable eyes on Thasha. “Listen to me,” she said. “I know Pazel’s been daft around Fulbreech, but you haven’t shown any sense at all. He could be anybody, Thasha. And he’s strange. I heard you talking last night.”
“Oh, you heard me, did you?” Thasha raised her voice.
“I couldn’t help it, you were ten feet away. Thasha, he was asking you about your Polylex, wasn’t he? How can you be sure the book is safe? Why would he ask that, if he’s just interested in you?”
“Because I told him how important it was to keep the book away from Arunis,” said Thasha.
Marila gave her a long, steady look. “You really love him?” she said at last.
“That’s my business,” said Thasha.
“What does Hercol say?”
Thasha’s hands were in fists. “He says he trusts me. He’s a friend.”
“So am I.”
“Oh, Marila, I know you are, it’s just-”
“Pazel hasn’t slept or eaten since he went in there. And Neeps is almost as bad. He’s worried himself into a blary stomachache. He won’t talk about anything but you.”
Thasha realized suddenly that she was looking at jealousy. I can’t do this anymore. The thought flashed unbidden through her mind; and then, rallying her courage: Yes, yes you can. She brought her memories of Fulbreech’s face, his soft kisses, to the front of her mind and held them there. “I thought,” she heard herself say, “that you of all people might understand.”
Marila began to shove Thasha’s clothes back into the chest. “Understand what?” she said. “That in the middle of fighting for our lives you suddenly decide you’d rather-”
“Marila,” said Thasha, almost pleading, “what if it’s not like that? What if this is part of fighting for our lives?”
“What in the Pits does that mean?”
Too far, Thasha told herself. She hid her face in her hands, stalling, thinking with furious speed. “For my life, then,” she said at last. “For my chance to live just a little before I die. Is that so unforgivable?”
“Thasha, once he gets what he wants, he’s going to-”
“Stop!” Thasha shouted. “Damn it, he’s not some animal, running me down. He hasn’t even tried.” She bent and hauled Marila to her feet. “But if he does, I’ll make my own choices. Tell that to Pazel and Neeps. They put you up to this, didn’t they?”
Marila shook her head. “They don’t even know I’m here.”
Thasha laughed in her face. Now that she’d started the words came easier. “Don’t you ever lecture me again. I was locked up in the Lorg School. They call it the Academy of Obedient Daughters, but it was just about turning us into wives-rich wives, powerful wives. The kind nobody ever loves, except for fifteen minutes at a time. Those she- devils they call Sisters, they made us dance like whores. They told us to fake pleasure when we didn’t feel it, ‘the first night, and every night.’ My own father sent me to that place, Marila, to make a suitable present out of me, a plaything for a forty-year-old Black Rag. And then I fell for a boy who’s in love with a fish.”
“Pazel’s in love with you. And Klyst isn’t a fish, she’s a sea-murth.”
“A fish,” Thasha repeated. “And don’t tell me about fighting for our lives. The Red Wolf didn’t mark you, did it? You’re not even one of us.” She jabbed a finger into Marila’s chest. “You think you can tell me who I should want, and why? You don’t know a Gods-damned thing. You’re a peasant.”
Marila stared at her in shock. Thasha wouldn’t have been surprised if she had spat in her face. But instead Marila just walked slowly from the cabin. In the doorway she stopped, and looked at Thasha with a frozen blankness.
“I used to feel sorry that you didn’t have a mother,” she said, “but you had one, all right. Her name was Syrarys.”
The winds were spiteful and weak. There was barely room to maneuver between the rip tide and the cliffs, and the hunger-weakened men had no rest at all between tacks. The loss of the landing party appalled and frightened them. And to top it all, a great dark vulture came and landed on the Goose-Girl, and defiled her-the worst luck imaginable. Just how their luck could sink lower, however, they did not dare to discuss.
Thasha took a turn at the chain-pumps, battling the hidden leak. It felt good to throw herself into mindless work. But down the row of crankshafts she saw Neeps and Marila, pulling together, drenched in sweat. Their eyes passed over her like the eyes of strangers. Thasha made herself look away.
When she emerged midafternoon the land had grown even more rugged and steep, and the mountains that had looked so distant loomed nearer, towering grandly over the cliffs. Thasha could see the rocky point Bolutu had described: one corner of this vast Efaroc Peninsula. Beyond that headland lay the cove called the Jaws of Masalym.
But now their pursuers had closed half the distance. She looked up and saw the new flag the tailor had patched together: the leopard and the rising sun. It clearly made no difference to the ships in pursuit.
The work grew frantic. They tightened backstays and spread more sail. Rose called for topgallants on the spindly foremast, and even stood a team ready to jettison their precious water. The ixchel ran up and down the strained rigging, looking for any sign of failure.
The hunters were within ten miles of their prey when the Chathrand cleared the point. Rose saw Alyash and Fiffengurt exchange looks of relief. Once the ship turned the wind would be with her, helping instead of hindering. And there in the west, like a deep bite out of the towering cliffs, was the cove.
“You can hear the falls already,” said Bolutu. Thasha heard them, a far-off thundering. From the mouth of the cove a white mist rose gleaming in the sun.
