smiled. A quick series of master-slave signals shot back and forth between their eyes. But which of us is the master, and which the slave? he wondered.
“I…,” Tristan said. Then he froze.
A screaming man had suddenly charged into the camp, his sword held high. Dressed all in black and with a black scarf tied across his lower face, he was heading straight for Rafe’s back.
“Rafe!” Tristan screamed.
Rafe turned just in time to see the killer coming and he too raised his sword. As the intruder lashed out with his blade, Rafe deftly sidestepped the bow then took the man’s head off at the shoulders.
Seconds later, the entire camp erupted into pandemonium. Women screamed, men hollered out urgent orders, and the sounds of clashing sword blades filled the night. Tristan stood and spun around to look.
Figures dressed all in black had invaded the camp. Some on foot and some on horseback, they were cutting down men, women, and children with abandon. No one needed to tell the prince who they were.
As fast as his feet could take him, Tristan ran for Rafe’s wagon. Reaching inside, he frantically searched for his dreggan and knife quiver. But just as he found them, he felt Rafe’s strong grip on his wrist. As he turned to look at the chieftain, Tristan’s face turned into a vicious snarl.
“Don’t be a fool!” he shouted. “You need my sword! And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll order that my warriors be freed and their weapons returned to them! I swear on my life that we will not take up arms against you!”
Cursing, Rafe shook his head back and forth for a moment, then finally relented. He shouted at Balthazar. The huge highlander came running. “Do as thedango says!” Rafe ordered him. Running across the clearing, Rafe drew his sword and joined the fray.
Tristan grabbed the giant by the shoulders. “Go to my warriors and free them!” he shouted. “Give them their weapons, then tell them to find me! Tell them it is an order from theirJin’Sai! I know that phrase means nothing to you, but when they hear it they will instantly obey, and not harm you! Go!” Balthazar gave Tristan a confused look, then ran off to do as he had been told.
Wheeling around, Tristan quickly situated the knife quiver over his right shoulder. He drew his dreggan and tossed its baldric aside. Then he heard Yasmin scream.
At first he couldn’t find her amid all the confusion, mayhem, and sudden death. By now many wagons were ablaze, fighters were dying all around him, and insane wailing filled the night. Suddenly he heard her scream again, and he whirled around.
About ten meters away, a figure in black had pinned her to the ground. Holding a dagger to her throat, he was viciously trying to tear off what remained of her clothes. Yasmin was fighting back furiously, but Tristan knew that her attacker would soon take what he wanted. Tossing his dreggan from his right hand over into his left, Tristan immediately reached back over his shoulder.
Let my aim be true, he prayed. His right arm a blur, he sent the knife whirling end over end across the clearing.
CHAPTER XXXVII
STANDING AT ONE OF THE BLACK SHIPS’ STARBOARDgunwales, Shailiha, Adrian, and Tyranny felt the bracing ocean wind against their faces. Although all three women were tired, being at sea again was welcome.
It was just after midnight on the Sea of Whispers. The winds were steady, helping the Conclave make good time as their fleet plowed its way east, toward the Citadel. The sky was clear, allowing the stars to twinkle brightly. Their pitching forms dark as night, the remaining five Black Ships dutifully followed Tyranny’s flagship.
Because the vessels had been returned to the Conclave’s service, Jessamay had suggested that they be reanointed with their original names. The Conclave had wholeheartedly approved. The Black Ships were once again theEphyra, theIllendium, theMalvina, theFlorian, theCavalon, and theTammerland. Tyranny had chosen theTammerland as her personal flagship.
The fleet’s departure had come earlier than planned. After returning from their meeting with Aeolus, the three women and Wigg had discovered that the vessels were ready to depart, several hours ahead of schedule. Because time was essential, Shailiha decided to sail immediately.
As usual, Faegan intended to remain behind and concentrate on his research. But the more he thought about the mission, the more the Citadel’s untold mysteries beckoned. Moreover, his unique gifts might be needed, because not one Conclave member truly knew what dangers they might be facing. At the last moment he had agreed to come along. As a precaution he had hurriedly packed the specialized craft tools needed to conjure his azure portal, among other wizardly items.
Abbey remained behind. Should the prince return home, Wigg wanted someone in authority to inform Tristan about recent events, including the surprise visit to Aeolus. Although she was disappointed, Abbey had accepted her passive assignment graciously, and had promised Shailiha that she would take good care of Morganna.
Cupping her hands against the wind, Tyranny lit a cigarillo, then tossed the dead match over the side. As she cast an expert gaze over her huge flagship, she smiled.
The Black Ships were plowing through the waves, rather than flying over them. After weighing anchor, Adrian and her acolytes had powered the vessels through the air for several hours. They had made amazingly good time. But the women had eventually tired, forcing the fleet to sail for a time in the traditional way. It would be back and forth like this all the way to the Citadel, Tyranny knew. When the fleet was aloft, little work was needed from the Minion crewmen. But now that the ships were afloat, the warriors were busy.
As she watched them go about their duties, Tyranny had to admit that the Minions were superior to human crewmembers in every way. Male and female warriors swarmed expertly over the ships’ decks. Others worked the sails and rigging, adjusting them quickly to the shifting weather conditions. Winging their way aloft, they rose confidently to the great heights commanded by the vessels’ towering masts, then hovered as they worked. Unlike human crewmembers, warrior patrols could scout the sea for leagues in every direction, and did so constantly. And perhaps most important, Tyranny knew the warriors’ fighting abilities firsthand.
The Black Ships had been loaded nearly to the sinking point with warriors, food, and weapons. If the attack on the Citadel became protracted, these precious cargoes would have to sustain the siege until victory was won. Given how fast the ships were traveling while so heavily burdened, Tyranny could only guess at their speed after some provisions had been consumed, and the vessels became lighter. Compared to the ships and crews she was used to commanding, the Conclave privateer had never felt so powerful or so confident.
A wry look overtook her face as she took a final drag on the cigarillo, then tossed it overboard. She tousled her short hair. Believing in your own infallibility is a terrible mistake out here, she reminded herself. That will get you killed as fast as anything.
She turned to look at Shailiha. The princess was wearing a gray jerkin with dark trunk hose and black knee boots. A sword hung from her left hip, and a sheathed dagger lay tied down to her right thigh. Her long blond hair was pulled behind her head and collected by a gold barrette. Tyranny secretly enjoyed seeing the princess dressed this way, for it seemed to put the two of them on a more equal footing. The privateer looked at Adrian.
“Why don’t you go and get some rest, Sister?” she asked. “You look exhausted.”
Adrian gave the other women a tired smile. “I was thinking that exact thing,” she answered. “With your permission, Your Highness?”
Shailiha nodded. “Certainly,” she answered simply. “Sleep well. I have a feeling we will need your skills soon enough.” With a bow, Adrian walked away. Shailiha gave Tyranny a knowing look.
“So what is it that you do not wish Adrian to hear?” Shailiha asked. As she looked back out to sea, her hair swayed gracefully behind her in the wind. “Given that there are no problems with the fleet, I can only guess that the subject is personal. And if it is,” she added quietly, “then it probably has to do with Tristan.”
Tyranny nodded. “I’m worried for him,” she said.
Turning around, Shailiha leaned her back against the gunwale. Smiling slightly, she crossed one foot over the other. “Oh, I think it’s more than that,” she said. “You love him, don’t you?”
