'You were a seaman once,' Dhraji had said to him.
'I was,' Bradan agreed.
'You can keep me company then,' Dhraji decided. 'Bhim is in command of matters military on land or sea. I am only here to observe.' Her smile broadened as she patted his thigh. 'You might come in handy if I get bored.'
Bradan forced a smile. 'I look forward to that, your Majesty.'
He had watched with interest as the Thiruzha sea-masters loaded their vessels with spears and arrows, containers of water and baskets of food. Bhim had launched one new ship across a line of tethered slaves, with a crowd cheering as her keel ripped them open and the ship was born in a shower of blood.
'Now she will not be scared of battle,' Dhraji had explained and ordered one of the now-dead slaves to be decapitated, to provide a dripping figurehead for the new ship. She had personally placed the head in position, licking the blood from her fingers.
The Thiruzha fleet rowed from Kollchi harbour in a long line, with the yellow-and-blue flag fluttering at the mast-heads and the drums beating time.
'Do you like the flag?' Dhraji asked. 'It is my leopard, of course.'
'Of course.' Bradan looked around for the animal.
'I don't take him to sea,' Dhraji explained. 'He gets seasick.'
The sharp prow of Dhraji's vessel dipped into the waves, bouncing the row of skulls that decorated her hull and raising a curtain of fine spray that spattered onto the deck. Dhraji laughed, shaking her head. 'Lovely,' she said. 'I love the feel of water on me.'
'I'll bear that in mind, your Majesty,' Bradan murmured. 'It could be useful for variety.'
Dhraji eyed him sideways. 'You are indeed a strange man, Bradan,' she said. 'I may keep you for a long time.'
'I certainly hope so, your Majesty,' Bradan said. 'I have no desire to kiss the foot of an elephant or try to learn how to fly.'
Dhraji's laugh pealed across the ship. 'There are worse ways to die.'
Bradan thought of the mewling thing in the dungeon and said nothing.
There was something exhilarating about being part of such a fleet, witnessing the power and the colour, feeling the excitement as the oars thrust the ship onward and watching the leopard standards flail and crack at the mastheads. Bradan tried to analyse his feelings. Although he could understand the excitement of the warriors, his primary concern was to stay alive and get Melcorka free. After that, he would try and find a cure for whatever malaise affected her. He could not see beyond that point. Only Melcorka mattered. To survive, Bradan knew he needed to keep in Dhraji's good graces. He had no illusions that she genuinely liked him, or would retain his services once she tired of his company. To Dhraji, he was a temporarily entertaining novelty and nothing more. He closed his eyes and immediately saw Melcorka lying in her dungeon.
I'll survive, Melcorka, and I'll get you out, somehow.
While Bradan had been thinking, the fleet had hoisted the sails and was far out to sea. Bhim sent outriders, fast scout ships, to search for the Chola fleet. They sailed ahead, with the drummers pounding out the time and the oarsmen sweating on their benches.
'Send out the outrider scouts,' Bhim ordered through a brass speaking-trumpet and half a dozen smaller, faster craft pushed forward in a flurry of spray and flickering oars. As they sped ahead, Dhraji walked the length of the ship, pointing out any of the slaves she considered was not working hard enough and smiling as a man with a whip laid into them. The sun rose higher and arced to the west, a brassy orb that scorched the ships, bubbled the pitch between the planking and tortured the slaves as they worked unprotected on their benches.
The fleet sailed through the night, south by south-east, relentless, spread into a great line abreast so they would not miss any prey or any sign of the enemy. There was no respite for the slaves. They rowed through the darkness and were still rowing when the sun gleamed faintly orange above the eastern horizon.
'Look!' A lookout pointed to the south. 'A sail. Two sails! One of our outrider scouts is returning!'
The beating of the drum carried far in the hush of the morning. Bradan squinted into the silver dawn as the Thiruzha outrider came closer. It was travelling so fast that Bradan could nearly smell the oarsmen's sweat from a mile away.
'Lord Bhim!' the master of the scout shouted, even before the two ships closed. 'The Chola fleet is just beyond the horizon.'
'How large is it?' Bhim asked.
The answer came at once. 'The Cholas have a hundred and twenty vessels and twenty fast loolas.'
Bradan noticed the arrows that protruded from the hull of the outrider and the blood that dribbled from the scuppers. Men had died to bring that fragment of information, and more would die before this day was done.
'They've moved faster than I expected,' Bhim said. 'Damn their skins. We'll lure their loolas in and dispose of them. Outriders!' The speaking-trumpet magnified his voice, so it carried easily across the Thiruzha fleet. 'Sail out, lure them in!'
Bhim gave a string of orders that saw the fleet alter into a half-moon formation, with the outriders arrowing forward toward the enemy, leopard flags streaming out in their wake.
'Row!' Bhim roared. 'Drummers! Increase the pace!'
Each ship had a broad-shouldered man in the stern, with a massive drum in front of him. At Bhim's orders, the drummer quickened the beat, and the oarsmen kept pace, with brawny men wielding long whips to encourage the exhausted. The twin sails bellied out with the wind, adding to the speed.
'Isn't this invigorating?' Dhraji breathed deeply of the scent of sweat and excitement. 'I love the tension before battle.'
Bradan nodded. He wondered how
