Krozair of Kregen

“The ships are ours, Dak. You have served me well. Now I will resume full command.”

The Katakis formed a bunch at his back. He had them well cowed. They were extraordinarily formidable. I hefted the Krozair longsword. I opened my mouth and Vax appeared at my side, laughing, saying, “Give me your sword, Dak, and I will clean it off for you. It is a beautiful blade.”

“I clean my own sword.”

He looked offended.

Rukker bellowed, “Now we carouse and make merry.”

The released slaves would do that, anyway.

Some onker was bellowing that Pearl was stuffed with wine. He carried an armful of bottles, waving one above his head, the rich red wine spilling out over him. He was already half-seas over. I did not consider long. Maybe I could have halted the debauch that followed. Maybe not. I did not try. I wanted to talk to Rukker and see if the way I planned to handle the Kataki devil would work. He had taken a good long look at the three swifters. Fazhan reported that Pearl had taken a nasty crack, but that the sharp sheer of her stern had been enough to prevent our ram from driving home, and that she would be fully seaworthy when the planking had been repaired. So Rukker could tell me in his lofty way,

“I will take Vengeance Mortil. She is the largest. You may have either of the others.”

I said, “Bring a few bottles to the cabin. We can talk there. If you wish to fight, here and now, I shall accommodate you. Otherwise, no fighting until we have decided what to do.”

Now that he had won and was in a strong position, he no doubt thought to show a facade of magnanimity. I do not think I do Rukker an injustice if I say that because he was a Kataki he was, by his religion and customs and mores, what other people would call an evil man. He could not help that; like the scorpion, it was in his nature. But I found that he had a gift denied to most other Katakis. He had a streak of humanity in him that, at first, because I did not believe it possible, I found disconcerting.

“Surely, Dak the High-Handed. We will drink together. But there is no question of our deciding.” He emphasized the “our.” “I have decided what we will do.”

I did not answer but barged off to the cabin, snatching up a couple of the bottles the idiot from Pearl had dropped — for he had passed out, beaming idiotically, on my quarterdeck. My quarterdeck.

Ah! How we arrogate to ourselves, arrogant in our pride!

Nath the Slinger appeared. He wore bits and pieces of finery, and carried a Genodder as well as his sling. He saw Rukker. He started to say something, but Rukker chopped him off.

“We talk, Nath the Slinger. Afterward, I may take from your hide payment for your insolence.”

Nath said, “I think the people may set fire to the swifters.”

That was a very fair chance.

Rukker bellowed at this, and in a twinkling, a dozen of his Katakis ran out along the gangways, roaring. That was one thing I could count on. Rukker would command obedience from his own people, and I could trust them to stop a parcel of drunken ex-oar-slaves from foolishly setting fire to the swifters they so much hated.

“Tell ’em to make sure they don’t kill too many Grodnims,” I said to Rukker, sharp. He bawled it after them. Then he took a bottle from a man near him, who did not argue, and rolled off to the aft cabin, swinging his tail in high good humor.

Fazhan looked at me, uncertain.

“You did very well, Fazhan. Now come and have a drink.”

“We should set a watch — there were three other swifters in the squadron.”

“The Katakis will do that. Or Rukker will have their tails.”

As I went along aft I admit I felt it most strange that I should be working in collaboration with Katakis. But, there it was. Those of us who had been architects in the escape gathered in the great aft cabin of Green Magodont to talk about our futures.

I will not go into all the discussion, although to a student of human nature it proved fascinating, revealing not only the desires of frail humanity but revealing very clearly the different traits of the differing racial stocks. The problem could be broken down into one of allegiances. The released slaves fell into four main classes. There were the Zairians who wished only to return to their homes of the southern shore. There were the Grodnims who, as criminals, could go neither to Zairia nor to Grodnim. There were the mercenaries who didn’t care who they fought for so long as they were paid and who, because they slaved for them, must have fallen foul of the overlords of Magdag. And there were the Zairians who, for one reason or another, could not return home.

Of the two latter classes, Rukker and I were representatives.

Long were the arguments and sometimes bitter the wrangling. But, in the end, it all boiled down to a decision by Rukker and most of the others, to join the Renders. These pirates infested many portions of the inner sea, of course; but they were particularly strong in the southwestern end, where many islands gave them shelter. As for the Zairians who wished to return home, they might take a swifter that Rukker did not want.

I said, “That does not dispose of all.”

“There is no one else, fambly!” Then Rukker, sprawled in a gilt chair, an upended bottle to his lips, roared out, “By the Triple Tails of Targ the Untouchable! No one would wish to go to Magdag!”

“I do,” I said.

He gaped at me.

“There is a certain matter I have left unfinished there.”

“Well, you will find not a single man to go with you.” Then he squinted at Duhrra — enormous in the corner, watchful — and grunted, and said, “Except that mad graint, of course.”

“And me,” said a young, firm voice, and I turned, and Vax stepped forward. “I wish to go to Magdag, for I have business there, also.”

Well, I fancied whatever his business was, it boded no good for some poor devil. Vax had been drinking. His face flushed heavily and he did not walk steadily, even though Green Magodont remained still.

Nath the Slinger had been drinking, also, and he snarled, “No doubt it has to do with your rast of a father.”

Vax turned sharply, and nearly fell. I do not like to see young men the worse for drink — or any man, come to that. Vax spoke in a cutting, nasty way. “Yes. For my father has done me a grave injustice. He has finished all my hopes in the Eye of the World. Yes, he bears a part, the cramph. But it is not for him I wish to go to Magdag, but my sister-”

“Well, go to the Ice Floes of Sicce for all I care!” boomed Rukker. He roared his mirth. “Three of you, to run a swifter! Ho — one to pull at the oar, one to beat the drum, and one to steer! Ho — I like it!”

Certainly, the image was a lively one. But I did not smile.

Vax looked as though he would be sick at any moment, if he did not fall down. I judged he was not used to heavy drinking. I stepped over to him and sniffed. I looked down at him.

“You young idiot! Dopa!”

Duhrra said, “Duh — dopa! I know, master — I know.”

Dopa is calculated to make a man fighting drunk; Vax had not yet drunk enough to turn him berserk. I saw the bottle in his hand, and I took it away. He tried to stop me. I broke the bottle over a handy table and showed him the serrated edge. “This is what you deserve, you gerblish onker.”

He staggered and would have fallen. I grabbed him and propped him upright.

“You’re coming with me to a cabin where you can sleep it off. I have work to do.” I dragged him out.

“I’ll see about you, Rukker, when I’ve seen to this hulu.”

I half carried him along to the ship-Hikdar’s cabin and tossed him down on the cot. As I say, cots and hammocks had previously been unknown in swifters, because they usually came ashore at night. No doubt the war was changing many things since the genius king Genod had taken over in Magdag. Vax snorted and tried to rise and I pushed him back and the hilt of the Krozair longsword slid forward. He blinked at it owlishly.

“I was to have been a Krozair,” he said. He was growing maudlin. “Yes, I trained. Not Zimuzz, though. I worked and all I wanted in this life was to be a Krozair like my brothers.”

“Yes,” I said, lifting his legs onto the cot. “Get some sleep and you can talk about this later.”