We weren’t out of the woods yet.
I looked down.
Two large and powerful looking men, both apims, were arguing. They both carried swords, they both had snatched up scraps of clothing to cover their nakedness. They had been slaves, miserably chained to the bench; now they were arguing over who was in command.
“I am a roz and therefore outrank you, fambly!”
“I am a swifter captain, you onker, and know whereof I speak!”
I watched Rukker. He walked toward them. He bellowed.
Other men crowded around on the upper deck. They could be called slaves no longer — or, perhaps, for a space no longer if we did not do something about the other two swifters. Rukker yelled.
“I am in command here! Get about your business!”
The two men turned on him, hot in their anger and pride, a pride so newly returned to them. Their swords flickered out.
One of them dropped with a sword through his guts, the other could not screech. His throat had been ripped out by the Kataki’s tail-blade. I sighed.
“I, Rukker, command! If any more of you rasts wish to die, then step up.”
Duhrra, at the back, started to rumble and shove forward. I went down the mast with some speed and jumped to the deck.
“What! Dak! And so you wish to challenge me.” Rukker waved his tail above his head. The blade glittered.
“If you are in command, Rukker, which I doubt. What do you think we should do about the two swifters that will surely pull up here to retake this vessel? Come on, man. Speak up.”
“I do not wish-” he began. But the other slaves — ex-slaves — were running to the rail and pointing at the swifters downstream and caterwauling.
I said, “You may not wish to know about them, Rukker. But that won’t make them go away.”
“One day, Dak the Cunning, I’ll do you a mortal injury.”
“You may try. Until then you had best listen to what I say.”
“I am in command!”
“You command nothing, Rukker the Kataki. This is no swifter fit to fight. You could not tackle those two. Think, man-” I did not take my gaze from him, and I watched that treacherous tail as a ruffianly sailorman watches a Sylvie as she dances the Sensil Dance.
But he was, I felt sure, a high noble of one kind or another, and he could think quickly when he had to.
“And what do you, oh wise and cunning Dak the Proud, think we should do?”
It would have been easy and cheap to have said, “But you are in command, Rukker.”
The men had broken out the wine now and would soon be helpless. At least, some would, for the supplies wouldn’t stretch to better than seven hundred thirsty ex-oar-slaves. I looked downstream again. The oars were moving in the swifters. They would back up to us, and their men would be armed and armored and ready. But drunken men can fight if they have a bucket of cold water soused over them and know that if they do not fight they will be killed if they are lucky, and go to the galley-slave benches if they are not lucky. But it must be done quickly.
In that uproar it was difficult to make myself heard. I turned to Duhrra. “Go and bash on the drum, Duhrra.”
“Aye, master.”
When the booming banging went on and on the men gradually quieted down and turned to look at Duhrra as he bashed away where usually the drum-Deldar beat the rhythm. I held up my hand. Duhrra stopped banging the drum and the silence fell.
I bellowed. I am able to let rip a goodly shout, as you know.
“Men! We must fight those swifters! There is no other way out for us. We can win easily if we stick together and fight for Zair!” This was mostly lies, of course. We could have run into the island and hidden. That would have been better than slaving at the oars. And as to winning, it would not be easy. But, Zair forgive me, I needed these men and their flesh and blood to further my own plans. I own that this makes me a criminal — a criminal of a kind, perhaps — but there was nothing else I could do, impelled as I was.
Vax shouted, before them all, “Aye! Let us take the two swifters to the glory of Zair!”
So they all bellowed and stamped and then it was a matter of finding weapons and clothes and armor and of seeing that not too many men fell down dead drunk.
We would have to wait for the attack until the last moment.
I said to Fazhan, “You are a ship-Hikdar. Can you organize from these men a crew to run the swifter?”
“Aye, Dak.”
“Then jump to it. If we have to man the banks with our own men, they will have to do it. By Zair! They should be proud to row for Zair! We’ll cripple those rasts out there!”
I turned to Rukker, who during all this had stood glowering, with his tail waving dangerously. I felt he would not strike just yet. He was too shrewd for that. “You want to be in command, Rukker. But you know nothing of swifters. Let Fazhan run the ship. Once we have those other two, we will have three alternatives.”
He started to say something, thought better of it, and swung away. I bellowed after him, “Go and command the prijikers, Rukker. That is a post of honor.”
The two swifters made no attempt to turn in the narrow mouth of the river. They could have done it. No doubt their captains wished to get up to us as fast as they could. I fancied they erred in this. I hoped I judged correctly.
The water rippled blue and silver, with jade and ruby sparks striking from it as the suns rose. The birds were busy about the trees. The day would be fine. I sniffed and thought about breakfast. No time for that now. Men were arming themselves from corpses and from the armory. I went down and had to push my way through a throng crowding along the quarterdeck and so into the cabins. Men gave way for me, for they knew I was Dak, and Dak had freed them. They had been told this by Duhrra, although some still thought Rukker had organized the break. It did not concern me. We could find no red cloth anywhere, and no one seemed over keen to wear green. Not even the Grodnim criminals, who kept very quiet, with good reason.
With seven hundred men or so to arm there was no chance of my equipping myself with a longsword to match the Genodder, and any man with two weapons had, perforce, to give up one to a comrade who had none. I bellowed for bowmen and soon all the men who said they were archers clustered on the deck where all the bows we could find were issued. As for arrows, these were brought up in their wicker baskets and likewise issued. There were insufficient bows to go to all those who clamored for them. I saw Nath. He had a piece of cloth. He saw me and waved and then stood on the bulwarks and dived cleanly into the water.
One or two men yelled and they would have started an outcry.
“Silence, you famblys! Nath the Slinger goes to collect pebbles.”
A few other men turned out to be slingers and they went off to collect ammunition. Rukker turned up again; he was growing tiresome, but I wanted to humor him, for not only did he intrigue me, I needed his bull-strength in the bows as a prijiker when the attack came in. And that would not be long now. He wore a mail shirt and a helmet. He carried a longsword. He looked exceedingly fierce.
“I do not know why I suffer your impertinence, Dak. But after we have taken those ships-”
I turned to Vax.
“Why have you not put on a mail shirt, Vax?”
“Because they are all taken already.”
That was the obvious answer to an unnecessary question.
But Rukker took the point. His face went more mean than ever, and he began to bluster. I pointed forward. “They are almost here.”
He swore — something about Targ and tails — and stormed off to the bows. He had selected a strong prijiker
