By the end of our fourth day the barge was as defensible as possible. Timber shields protected the main deck. Their lower ends projected over the water to make boarding from boats difficult. None of the embrasures in that shielding were big enough for a man to weasel through. The guys had put together four ballistae for each side. Thanks to One-Eye’s foresight we had the makings for firebombs by the score, and ready bombs in well-protected nests atop the deckhouse. The three brothers from Beryl built us a dolphin, which is a fish-shaped weight attached to a long chain. It is swung out on a boom and dropped through the bottoms of boats. My favorite engine, though, was thought up by Patience, a former caravan guard.
A springboard would slap the base of a cartridge filled with poisonous darts, throwing a hail of missiles. The poison needed only the tiniest cut to cause quick paralysis. The engine’s one shortcoming was that it was immobile. You had to wait for your target to cross your aim.
Once construction was finished I treated everyone to a rich diet of my own pet peeves from my days as a follower instead of chieftain. Drills and exercises. And intense language study. I kept One-Eye and his pet in a sweat trying to establish at least one common tongue among the men. There was plenty of grumbling. Only the Nar were impressed favorably.
Lady did not appear. She might not have existed for all we could tell.
We entered the wetlands, mostly cypress swamp, early the sixth morning. Everyone became more alert.
There was no sign of pirates for another two days. When they did come we had plenty of warning from One- Eye and Goblin.
We were passing through a place where the cypress crowded the channel. The attackers, in twenty boats, came at us head-on, around a bend. I could bring only two ballistae to bear. Those stopped just one boat. Arrows from those of us atop the deckhouse-which ran most of the length and width of the barge-did no good. The boats had canopies of crocodile hide.
They rushed in alongside. Grapnels on chains not easily cut caught on the top of the shielding. Pirates began clambering up.
I had them where I wanted them.
The shields were perforated with small holes. Mogaba’s Nar stabbed through those at legs. The few pirates reaching the top had to balance on a four-inch width of timber before leaping to the deckhouse roof.
It was a turkey shoot. None survived to make the jump.
Goblin and One-Eye did not lift a sorcerous finger. They amused themselves throwing firebombs. The pirates had not encountered those before. They fled sooner than they would have had the boys not gotten into the game.
My guess is the pirates lost fifty to sixty men. Not a small hurt, but smaller than it could have been, and the good merchants of Gea-Xle hoped we would break the pirates.
The bargemaster appeared out of nowhere, like a ghost, as the pirates hauled ass. Neither he nor his crew had been visible during the skirmish. We had been drifting free, at the whim of the river.
Frogface appeared coincidentally. I used him to give the man nine kinds of hell. My rage took the edge off the complaining he did about us letting so many pirates get away.
“You’ll have to fight them again, now. Next time they’ll know what to expect.”
“The way I heard, the first attack is just a probe. What the hell is going on out there?” The river had begun to foam with underwater excitement. Something began thumping against the barge’s hull.
“Needleteeth.” The bargemaster shuddered. Even Frogface seemed unsettled. “A fish as long as your arm. Heads for blood in the water. When there’s a lot they go mad and attack everything. They can devour a hippo, bones and all, in a minute.”
“Is that so?”
The river grew wilder. The dead pirates, and the wounded who had not gotten aboard boats and away, vanished. Broken and burning boats and driftwood went down piscine gullets. At least the needleteeth gave it the heroic try.
Once I was convinced the crew would participate in wreaking their own salvation next time, I went and had me a powwow with my tame wizards.
The second attack came at night. This time those guys were serious.
Their earlier asskicking had them feeling no-prisoners mean.
We had plenty of warning, of course. Goblin and One-Eye were on the job.
It was in another narrow place and this time they had a boom across to catch and hold us. I screwed them up by having anchors dropped when Goblin detected the boom. We stopped two hundred yards above the heart of the trap. We waited.
“Goblin? One-Eye? You guys set?” We had our surprises.
“Ready, Mom.”
“Cletus. You on the dolphin?”
“Yes sir.”
We had not used that before. “Otto. I don’t hear that goddamned pump. What the hell is going on back there?”
“I’m looking for the crew guys now, Croaker.”
All right. They wanted to chicken out again, eh? Hoped they could buy off the pirates by not resisting? “Murgen, dig that barge boss out of his hiding hole.” I knew where he was. “I want him up here. One-Eye. I need your pet.”
“Soon as he gets back from scouting.”
Frogface showed first. He was telling me that every adult male in the swamp was out there when Murgen brought the bargemaster to me whimpering in a ham-merlock. As the first pirate arrows fell I said, “Tell him he goes over the side if his people aren’t on the job in two minutes. And that I’ll keep throwing guys out till I get what I want.” I meant what I said.
The message got through. I heard the pumps begin squeaking and clinking when Murgen and I were getting set to see how far we could throw a man.
The arrow fall picked up. It was ill-directed and did no harm, but its only purpose was to keep our heads down.
There was a big outbreak of cussing and caterwauling yonder when Goblin tested a favorite gimmick from his White Rose days, a spell that started every insect in a small area noshing on the nearest human flesh.
The whoop and holler died quickly. Test fulfilled, question answered. They had somebody capable of undoing trivial witcheries.
One-Eye was supposed to sneak along to spot the guy responsible, if one turned up, so he and Goblin could gang up and nail his hide to the nearest cypress.
The arrow fall stopped. And speak of the devil, here came One-Eye. “Big trouble, Croaker. That guy over there is a heavyweight. I don’t know what we can do about him.”
“Do what you can. Blindside him. Did you notice? The arrows stopped?” There was a lot of carrying on in the swamp, to cover the sounds of oars.
“Right.” One-Eye ran to his place. A point of pink light soared upward. I donned the crocodile head Goblin had fixed. It was time for the show.
Half of winning a battle is showmanship.
The pink point grew up fast and shed light on the river.
There must have been forty boats sneaking toward us. They had extended their croc-hide protection in hopes of shedding firebombs.
I was glowing and breathing fire. Bet I made a hell of a sight from over there.
The nearest boats were ten feet away. I saw the ladder boxes and grinned behind my croc teeth. I had guessed right.
I threw my hands up, then down.
A single firebomb arced out to shatter upon a boat.
“Stop pumping, you goddamned idiots!” I yelled.
The bomb was a dud.
I did my act again.
Second time had the charm. Fire splattered. In seconds the river was aflame except for a narrow strip around
