moment at the sight of the old man's face. God in heaven, why had they done it?
The wizard was a gaunt manikin with white parchment skin that rendered his purple and pink scars all the more startling. But he grinned at Hawkwood as the mariner stood with his untasted wine in his fist.
'Good, good. A perfect job. You had us worried there for a while, Captain.' Isolla took his heavy outer robe like a girl helping her father, and gave him her own glass. He drained it in one swallow, then stepped across to the window and swept back the curtains.
The window faced west, and looked out into a vast, boiling darkness. Hawkwood joined the wizard to stare at it. 'Blood of God,' he murmured.
Tour storm is almost upon us, Captain. It made good time during the night.'
The cloud was twisted and stretched into a great bastion of shadow which filled the entire western horizon. It was shot through with the flicker of lightning at its base and writhed in tormented billows with a motion that seemed almost sentient.
'The city has been swarming like a wasps' nest all night, and the sight of that this morning has been enough to tip things over the edge. Already there is a throng of soldiers, sailors and minor nobles in the abbey, all talking without listening. The garrison, such as it is, is out on the streets, but the panic has already begun. They're streaming out of North Gate in their thousands, and ships in the harbour have dumped their cargoes and are offering passage out of Hebrion instead, to anyone who has a king's ransom in his purse.'
'No one said a word’ Isolla said wonderingly. 'One castaway is brought ashore, and the whole country expects the worst. Storm or no storm, have they no faith? It's madness.'
'The fishermen found me floating on the broken maintop of a Great Ship. Some of them recognised me as the captain of the flagship. And I would answer none of their questions’ Hawkwood told her gently. 'Victory is not so close-mouthed. They know that the fleet has met with some disaster.'
'Plus, I believe that a few of the palace maids have been more ingenious in their curiosity than I gave them credit for’ Golophin went on. 'At any rate, the secret is out. The fleet, and our King are no more - this much is now common knowledge. Aruan's terms have not yet been bruited abroad though, which is a blessing. We must have no more maids or valets in this wing of the palace, if it is to stay that way. I have posted sentries further down the passage.'
'What do we do now?' Isolla asked slowly, her eyes fixed on the preternatural tempest which was rolling towards them on the west wind. She was no ingenue, but nothing in her life had prepared her for this sudden, crushing weight of responsibility. She did not even know the name of the officer who now commanded the army.
Golophin looked at Hawkwood, and found that the mariner was watching the Queen with a strange intentness. He nodded to himself. He had been right there, all those years ago, and he was still right. That could be for the good.
He pursed his lips. 'Abrusio has a garrison of some six thousand men left to her. The marines went with the fleet, as did all the Great Ships. All we have left are dispatch-runners and a few gunboats. There are small garrisons in Imerdon and up on the border with Fulk, but they are weeks away.'
'There are the mole forts,' Isolla said. 'In the Civil War they held up Abeleyn's fleet for days.'
'These things’ Hawkwood said slowly, 'can fly.'
'What were they, Captain?' Golophin asked. Even at a time like this, he seemed more curious than appalled.
'I saw one once before, in the jungle of the Western Continent. I believe they were men at one time, but they have been warped beyond humanity. They are like great bats with tails, and the talons of a raptor. And they number many thousands. There is a fleet out there also, mostly composed of lesser ships, and on board it are black-armoured warriors with pincers for hands and a carapace like that of a beetle. They swarm like veritable cockroaches in any case. Abrusio cannot stand against that. Her best men died off North Cape and her citizens, from what you tell me, are in no mood to stand and fight.'
'She is doomed then,' Isolla murmured.
Golophin's face was a demonic mask. 'I believe so. Hebrion, at least, must accept Aruan's terms, or see bloodshed that will make the Civil War pale into insignificance.'
'He wants the nobles handed over too,' Hawkwood reminded him. 'He intends to extinguish the aristocracy of the whole kingdom.'
Both men looked at Isolla. She smiled bitterly. 'I care not. My husband and my brother are both dead. I may as well join them.'
Golophin took her hand. 'My Queen, you have been like a daughter to me, one of the few folk I have trusted in this long, absurd life of mine. This man here is another such, though he has not always known it. Abeleyn your husband was the third, and Bardolin of Carreirida was the fourth. Now only you and Hawkwood remain.' As she hung her head he gripped her fingers more tightly. 'I speak to you now as a Royal advisor, but also as a friend. You must leave Hebrion. You must take ship with a few of the household whom you in your turn can trust, and sail from these shores. And you must go soon, within the day.'
Isolla looked shaken. 'Where shall I go?'
It was Hawkwood who answered. 'King Corfe still rules in Torunna, and his army is the greatest in the world. You should go to Torunn, lady. You will be safe there.'
'No. My place is here.'
'Hawkwood is right,' Golophin said fiercely. 'If Aruan captures you then all hope for the future is lost. The people must have some continuity in the times to come. And you must go by sea; the land route to the east is closed.' He raised a hand. 'Let us hear no more on this matter. I have already spoken to the Master of Ships down in Admiral's Tower. A state xebec awaits you as we speak. Hawkwood here will captain it. You ought to leave, I am told, with a certain combination of tides, the - the—'
'The ebb tide,' Hawkwood told him. 'It happens at the sixth hour after noon. The xebec is a good choice. She's lateen-rigged, and with this westerly she'll have a beam wind to work with to get out of the harbour - precious little leeway, mind. But you'll find some other skipper. I'm staying here.'
Isolla and Golophin both glared at him.
‘I survived my King, my admiral and my ship - despite being her captain,' Hawkwood said simply. 'I'm not running away again.'
'Bloody fool,' Golophin said. 'And what service will you render here in Hebrion, apart from having that stiff neck of yours chopped through?'
‘I might make the same point to you. You're staying, it seems - and for what?'
‘I can be in Torunn in the blink of an eye if I so choose.'
'You look as though a child could knock you over with a willow wand.'
'He's right, Golophin,' Isolla said quickly. 'Are your powers in need of recuperation? You do not look well.' She appeared momentarily exasperated by her own timidity. Hawkwood saw her jaw harden. But then Golophin, ignoring her, was poking him in the chest with a bony forefinger.
'Aruan told you his forbearance is at an end. Twice now he's let you live, to suit his own ends. He will not do so again. Plus, this ship needs an experienced navigator. You will be travelling the entire length of three seas to reach Torunn. You are going, Captain. And you, lady - even if I were not your friend, I would insist that, as Hebrion's reigning Queen, you must go. And you will, if I have to have you bundled up in a sack. Hawkwood, I charge you with her protection. Now let us hear no more about it. As it happens, I have a reason for staying, and you have given me reason to believe Aruan will not have me slain out of hand. Nor am I defenceless, so rest your minds from that selfless worry and start preparing for your voyage. There are tunnels under the palace that lead almost to the waterfront; Abeleyn had them dug ten years ago, so you will be able to leave without creating even more of a panic than already exists. Isolla knows where they are. You will leave by them as soon as you possibly can.'
'I can't do that. I must speak to the nobility before I go. I can't just sneak away,' Isolla protested.
Golophin finally let slip the leash on his temper.