The Crippled God

years, we have done all we thought to do at that juncture, and the time for regrets is past — my dear, what was in this wine? My mouth seems to be running all by itself. For most people, of course, that moment of receptivity was sadly brief. A day? Half a day? And alas, once gone, it can never return.’

‘Excuse me, Highness, your pipe is lit.’

‘Good. Give it over. About this wine-’

There was a knock upon the cabin door, and a moment later the latch lifted and First Mate Skorgen Kaban the Pretty loomed in the doorway, knuckling his brow. ‘Princess, Highest of Highs, beg yer pardon. Got urgent happenings up top, if you please. Cap’n requests yer presence.’

Felash sighed. ‘Very well, assuming I am able to, uh, stand. Umph, some assistance-’

The handmaid reached out to steady her.

‘Lead on, Skorgen,’ Felash said with a careless wave of one hand. ‘And if you must ogle my tits, try being subtle about it, will you?’

‘Sorry, Highness. Only got the one good eye, y’know.’

They paused and waited while the handmaid got over a sudden fit of coughing.

Shurq Elalle turned as her first mate clumped up to her.

‘Captain! The Squall Witch — she’s drunk!’

‘Pretty, was that meant to be a whisper? Greetings, Highness.’

‘Drunkenness lies in the purview of the lowborn. Captain, allow me to assure you that I am neither drunk nor lowborn. But, I must ask, where is our Jaghut guest?’

Shurq grunted. ‘Thought you’d have passed him on the way up. There is the matter of keeping at least one knife well hidden, you see.’

‘No, Captain. I am afraid I do not.’

‘Ah, of course.’ Shurq pointed ahead. ‘We have been sighted by that ship and it now bears down on us. Not a Throne of War. Kolansian, one presumes.’

Somewhat unsteadily, the princess made her way to the captain’s side. ‘Oh dear,’ she said, ‘that is an Assail ship. At the very least, a Lesser Watered will be commanding. Most distressing, of course, are the implications.’

‘As in,’ ventured Shurq Elalle, ‘where is the Perish fleet?’

‘Precisely. And if that is not sufficiently alarming, I am afraid that I have been engaged in exhausting rituals this day. If we must fight, I will be of little use. We have already experienced the danger posed by Forkrul Assail, by both their physical prowess and the sorcery of their voice.’

‘I need no reminders, Highness. And while I proved immune to such magics, the same cannot be said for my crew. And now you tell me that you are unable to defend us. So much for hiding one knife, Highness.’

‘We shall see. We have, after all, my handmaid.’

Shurq glanced over at the woman, recalling her attacks upon Sister Equity. ‘She did not fare so well against a Pure, Highness.’

‘Well, a Higher Watered’s Assail blood is, er, watered down, and is not quite as powerful. In any case, it remains to be seen how this will play out. After all, this could be one of the betrayers among the Assail. In the meantime, Captain, may I suggest your first mate gather your crew and make for the hold.’

‘Skorgen, take ’em down and keep ’em quiet.’

‘Aye, Captain.’

There was something skeletal about the Assail ship. Two types of wood were visible, one bone white and the other dull black. The hull was narrow of beam and high-castled, and with the two masts offering minimal canvas, Shurq suspected that it had been built to ply sheltered waters. An open sea gale could well swamp such a ship. At twice the mass of her old raider, the Undying Gratitude, Shurq judged it to have a complement of seventy or so sailors on board, along with twenty or more marines, and as the craft came around and fell off before the wind on the port side of the Death Ship she stepped to the rail and looked across. A tall, spectral figure was staring down on her, flanked by two helmed guards cloaked in chain surcoats.

A few paces behind the captain, Princess Felash said, ‘Dearie, those marines.’

‘Yes, Highness,’ the handmaid replied.

‘Captain?’

‘Highness?’

‘Why not ask them what they want?’

Shurq turned to eye the princess. Before she could say anything, however, there were shouts from the Assail ship, and she swung back to see the handmaid scrambling up the side. Shit, wish I’d seen that leap. The craft was wallowing at least six paces away. ‘Princess, what is that woman doing?’

The handmaid drew herself up and over the rail. The deck was an eye-hurting maze of black and white wood, like a shattered mosaic. Six more helmed, chain-clad marines stood near the main mast, now drawing heavy cutlasses.

The Assail half-blood commander wore a heavy, jewelled cloak, the thick oiled wool dyed a deep blue. Torcs of gold collared her long neck, and her head was shaved, emphasizing the angled planes of her skull. She was unarmed, and she now faced the handmaid with a look of amused surprise, lifting a hand to stay her soldiers.

Looking round, the handmaid saw recent storm damage — much of the rigging had been torn away, and mounds of cordage and shattered stays littered the deck. There seemed to be less than a score of hands working on repairs.

‘Inform your captain,’ said the Assail half-blood, ‘that having entered territorial waters, she must abide by the laws of High Kolanse. I am Lesser Watered Intransigent, Inquisitor of the Southern Fleet.’

‘Not much of a fleet,’ the handmaid observed.

The Inquisitor blinked. ‘A sudden storm has temporarily scattered us. To resume my message to your captain, she and her crew — including all passengers — must accept adjudication.’

‘By “adjudication” do you mean killing?’

The pale-skinned woman smiled, the expression seeming to fold the two sides of her face slightly inward. ‘The Proclamation of Restitution has been sanctioned. We continue the task.’

‘And did this fate befall the Perish?’

‘Yours is not a Perish ship.’ She frowned. ‘I sense enmity from your vessel — and that fat little girl with the pipe, she is a mage, is she not? We shall adjudicate her first.’

The handmaid walked back to the rail and leaned over. ‘Highness,’ she called down, ‘they’re being a little cagey regarding the Perish. Might be you were right.’

‘Anything else that might be important?’ Felash asked.

‘No, Highness. Only that they want to kill us.’

‘Very well. Carry on.’

The handmaid turned round.

The Lesser Watered spoke, ‘Reach not for your weapons. Kneel. For each and every one of you, the healing of the world begins with your death. Among all the reasons to die, is there one more worthy than this? Be thankful that we give meaning to your end. Kneel.’

The handmaid shook her head. ‘A Pure already tried all that. Caught me off guard … for a moment or two. My will is not yours to command.’

She moved then, rather faster than they’d expected, her hands thrusting outward, striking the bodyguards in the chest. Both warriors were lifted from their feet. Over the rail, plummeting to the waters below. She ducked at that instant, evading the Lesser’s lashing attack, and kicked at the second joint on the woman’s left leg, folding it halfway between the knee and the ankle. Her attacker stumbled, and the handmaid slipped past her, spinning round and out to one side to meet the six marines.

Behind them others were coming up from below, she saw.

She drew her fighting knives. She needed bigger weapons. The marine closest to her wielded a nice pair of cutlasses. She would take those.

Shurq Elalle loosed a startled oath and then leaned forward to watch the two armoured guards plunge into the choppy waters between the ships. Both men vanished in a froth of bubbles. Turning to Felash, she asked, ‘Does she need help over there?’

Plucked brows lifted. ‘I certainly hope not!’