Cornelu on its back and of the eggs strapped beneath its belly was that they made it swim a little slower and more awkwardly than it would have otherwise. That let a couple of mackerel it should have caught get away. But it still caught plenty and didn’t seem aggrieved.
“Come on, my beauty,” Cornelu urged it. “Come on. Bring me to a ship. It doesn’t have to be a great big ship. Just bring me to a ship.”
He was lying. He knew the kind of ship to which he wanted the leviathan to bring him: to a great Algarvian floating fortress, all bristling with heavy sticks and with egg-tossers. Sending a vessel like that to the bottom would be the beginning of revenge for everything Algarve had done to his kingdom and to his life.
But sending a vessel like that to the bottom wouldn’t be easy. He knew as much. He would have to be sly. He would have to be sneaky. He would have to be lucky. The sailors aboard a floating fortress would always be alert against attack by leviathans. So would the mages aboard such a ship, though he didn’t worry so much about them as he would have on land. He had his instrument for detecting sorcerous energy, but wasn’t using any to speak of. That made his own sorcerous footprint very small and hard to note.
Sea . . . sky . . . sea . . . sky. Still nothing but sea and sky, as far as he could see. He muttered in frustration. And then he spied something neither sky nor sea, but not something to delight him as a hunter. Instead, he cursed and ordered his leviathan to dive. He hoped the dragon gliding through the air far above had not spied him.
His rubber suit and sorcery kept the cold of the southern seas from slaying him by stealth. Another sorcery let him get air from the water around him, so that he could stay down as long as the leviathan could. No mage had ever successfully applied that latter spell to a leviathan, to let it stay submerged without ever needing to come up and breathe. Nor had any mage ever made a spell to let a man dive as deep as a leviathan could without the weight of the water above him crushing out his life.
He had the leviathan stay submerged as long as it could. When it finally had to rise to spout, he anxiously scanned the heavens. If that dragonflier had spotted him before he took cover below the surface of the sea, an egg might fall out of the sky at any moment, or the dragon might come skimming low over the waves to flame him off his leviathan. He hated dragons and dragonfliers not least because they could hurt him and he couldn’t hit back.
But, once more, he saw nothing but sea and sky. He breathed a sigh of relief at what had annoyed him only minutes before. He hated ley-line warships, too, but he hated them because they belonged to Algarve. Aye, they could hurt him. He could hurt them, too, though, if only he got the chance.
Patting the leviathan, Cornelu asked, “Now, which way did you swim when you went under?” The leviathan couldn’t answer--and, by his own silly logic, wouldn’t even have understood the question, being a Lagoan beast.
He pulled out the instrument he used to detect sorcerous energy. Both gold-leaf vanes hung limp, which meant the leviathan had swum away from the ley line. Cornelu turned the instrument in his hands. The vanes stayed limp. Cornelu cursed, loudly and foully. Why not? No one was around to hear him.
With a couple of taps, he ordered the beast to swim south. After what he judged to be about half a mile, he stopped the leviathan and examined the instrument again. If anything, the vanes hung closer together than they had before.
Cornelu grunted. He hadn’t found the ley line, but he’d found where it wasn’t. That gave him a better idea of where it was. He turned the leviathan back toward the north and swam past--he hoped he swam past--the point where he’d begun trying to reacquire it. Then he checked the instrument once more and nodded to himself. The vanes were separating.
Before long, he’d found the ley line again. He sent the leviathan southwest down it. These were Algarvian-controlled waters. Where were the warships with which the Algarvians controlled them?
Most patrols, by the nature of things--the ocean was vast, the targets upon it few and small and far between--ended in futility. Cornelu’s whole war up till now had been futile. He didn’t know how much more futility he could stand.
That thought had hardly crossed his mind before he spotted a speck on the horizon. Hope flooded into him. If he could bring his leviatJhan back to Setubal after sinking an Algarvian ship, even the haughty Lagoans would have to give him his due.
Well, now Cornelu had the chance to prove that of which he was convinced. He urged the leviathan toward the ship--and the ship was coming toward him, too. He couldn’t have caught it from behind, not unless it was just lazing along.
