From behind Kennit came hushed exclamations of awe and horror. Kennit himself could vividly imagine how Vivacia could come apart in their coils.
As the Jamaillian ships retreated from the serpents' victim, they continued a hail of stones. The serpents snatched up the drowning crewmen and devoured them, then turned their attention to the other ships. Several vessels sought to flee, but it was already too late for that. The serpents spread throughout the fleet, as yielding but capturing as a bed of kelp. The efforts of the creatures were divided now, the results not as swift. Serpents circled the ships, spraying venom. Some of the larger serpents resorted to ramming. One ship lost its sails. Another serpent was hit. It screamed furiously, and lunged at the ship before falling away lifelessly. That ship became a target for the surviving serpents' concentrated fury.
'Call them back,' Wintrow pleaded in a low voice.
'Why?' Kennit asked conversationally. 'If we were in their hands and dying, do you think they would be seized with sudden mercy for us?'
'Please, Vivacia! Call them back!' Wintrow cried out to the ship herself.
Vivacia shook her great head slowly. Kennit's heart soared to find her so loyal to him, but then in a mutter meant only for Kennit and Wintrow, she slew the pirate's dream.
'I cannot. They are beyond anyone's control now. They are in a frenzy, driven as much by despair as revenge. I fear that when they are finished, they will turn on me.'
Wintrow's face paled. 'Should we flee now? Can we outrun them?'
Kennit knew they could not. He chose to put a brave face on it. Well, at least no one would outlive him to tell any tales. He clapped Wintrow on the shoulder. 'Trust the luck, Wintrow. Trust the luck. All will be well. Sa did not bring me through all this to leave me serpent bait at the end.' A sudden thought occurred to him. 'Signal Sorcor on the Marietta.. Tell him to send Etta back to me.'
'Now? In the midst of all this?' Wintrow was horrified.
Kennit laughed aloud. 'There's no pleasing you, is there? You told me that Etta belonged at my side. I've decided you're right. She should be beside me, especially on a day like this. Signal Sorcor.'
TINY CHALCEDEAN GALLEYS FLANKED A SAILING SHIP ON THE SEAS BELOW them.
'Shall we liven up their day?' Tintaglia suggested in a low rumble.
'Please, no,' Reyn groaned. The deep bruises on his chest made even breathing painful. The last thing he wanted was to be shaken in her clutches as she swooped and darted above the ships. He felt a shudder of anticipation run through her and groaned, but she did not dive on the ship.
'Did you hear that?' she demanded.
'No. What?' he demanded, but instead of answering, her great wings stroked with a sudden energy. The ocean and the ships upon it receded beneath him. He shut his eyes as she beat her way higher still. When he dared to open them again, the ocean below them was a rippling fabric, the islands scattered toys. He could not get his breath. 'Please,' he begged dizzily.
She did not reply. Instead, she caught a cold current of air with her wings and hung there. He closed his eyes and endured miserably. 'There!' she cried out suddenly. He did not have the breath to ask her what. They tipped and went sliding down the sky. The cold wind bit to his bones. Just when he thought he could be no more miserable, Tintaglia gave vent to an ear-shattering scream. The sound rang in his ears even as his small human soul was consumed by her mental shout of triumph. 'See them! There they are!'
'SOMETHING'S HAPPENED!' ALTHEA ANNOUNCED TO THE OTHERS IN THE ROOM. 'The serpents cease their attack. They all turn their heads.' She stared out of the small porthole. She could see a small segment of the battle, but by it she judged the whole. Of the five ships she could see, all had taken damage. On one, sails drooped in tatters and there was little deck activity. It would never see port again. The serpents had broken the fleet's formation and scattered them, forcing each ship to battle individually. Now the serpents had suddenly ceased their attacks and stared up at the sky with their huge gleaming eyes.
'What?' Malta asked anxiously, sitting up straight.
Jek gave up her vigil at the door. 'Let me see,' she demanded, coming to the porthole. Althea ducked out of her way and stepped to the middle of the room. She reached overhead to put her hands flat to a beam. 'I wish I were more closely linked to Vivacia. I wish I could see with her eyes, as I once did.'
'What does she feel? Wait! Where are all the serpents going?' Jek demanded.
'She feels too much. Fear and anxiety and sorrow. Are the serpents leaving?'
'They're going somewhere,' Jek replied. She turned away from the porthole with an impatient snort. 'Why are we staying in here? Let's go out on the deck and see.'
'Might as well,' Althea replied grimly.
'Wintrow said we'd be safer here,' Malta reminded them. She lifted her hands suddenly to her head as if even the thought of venturing onto the deck pained her.
'I don't think he expected things to go this way,' Althea replied reassuringly. 'I think we should find out what is happening.'
'I demand that you all remain here!' the Satrap shouted suddenly. He sat up, his face creased with anger. 'I will not be abandoned! As my subjects, you owe me loyalty. Remain here, to protect me as necessary.'
A grin twisted Jek's mouth. 'Sorry, little man. I'm not your subject, and even if I were, I'd still go up to the deck. But if you want to come with us, I'll watch your back for you.'
Malta dropped her hands from her face. She drew a sudden breath through her gaping mouth, then announced, 'We have to get to the deck. Right now! Tintaglia comes! The dragon calls to the serpents.'
'What? A dragon?' Althea demanded incredulously.
'I can feel her.' Wonder was in Malta's voice. She jumped to her feet, her dark eyes growing ever larger. 'I can feel the dragon. And hear her! Just as you can know things through the ship. Don't doubt me, Althea. This is true.' Then she paled, her wonder turning to despair. 'And Reyn is with her. He comes, all this way, seeking me. Me!' She lifted a hand to cover her mouth and her face crumpled.
'Don't be frightened,' Althea said gently.
The girl hunched on her chair. Her fingertips prodded the ridged scar on her brow. She dropped her hands away as if burned, then stared at her claw-like fingers. 'No,' she whispered. 'No, it's not fair.'
'What is the matter with her?' the Satrap demanded disdainfully. 'Is she ill? If she is ill, I wish her taken away.'
Althea knelt beside her niece. 'Malta?' What ailed the girl? 'Stop.' The word was as much command as plea. Malta pushed herself ponderously to her feet. She moved as if she were made of separate pieces, none of which fit together very well. Her eyes were flat. She picked up her headwrap from the table, looked at it, then let it fall from her fingers. 'It doesn't matter.' Her voice was distant, impartial. 'This is who I am now. But…' She let her thought die away. She walked toward the door as if she were entirely alone. As she passed through it, Jek held it wide for her. The Six Duchies woman gave Althea a quizzical look. 'Are you coming?'
'Of course,' Althea murmured. She suddenly grasped what her mother must have felt down the years, wanting good things for her daughters, but so powerless to make them go well. It was a sickening feeling.
'Halt! What about me? You cannot leave me here, unattended,' the Satrap protested angrily.
'Well, hustle along then, little man, or be left behind,' Jek told him. But she did hold the door for him, Althea noted.
KENNIT STARED UP, AWARE THAT HE GAPED BUT UNABLE TO DO ANYTHING about it. He was dimly aware that Vivacia gazed upward also, her hands clasped before her bosom as if she prayed. Beside him, Wintrow did pray, not a prayer for mercy, as Kennit might have expected, but instead a joyful flow of words that celebrated the wonder of Sa. The boy sounded as if he were chanting in a trance. 'The wonder, the glory is yours, Creator Sa…' He could not tell if Wintrow mouthed familiar words or if the majesty of the creature above them had spurred him to spontaneous worship.
The dragon circled again, blue scales glinting to silver as the winter sunlight ran along its flanks. Again, it gave cry. When the dragon spoke, Kennit felt Vivacia's response. A terrible deep yearning ran through the ship and infected him. She longed to move that freely through the sky, to soar and dip and circle at her own pleasure. It put the ship in mind of all she was not, and never would be. Despair like poison seeped through her.
