Princeps Fury ca-5 Read online

  The seas were strange.

  The waters, for one, were odd. Even at their smoothest, they had always rolled gently. These seas were as flat as a sheet of glass, hardly rippled by a mild, cold breeze from the north.

  Ice was everywhere.

  It coated the ship in a thin layer, glistening over the spars and masts. The deck, too, was covered in a thicker film of ice, though it had been pitted and scarred by some means, making it less treacherous than it might have been. Nonetheless, Tavi walked cautiously. Lines had been strung up in several places on the ship, obviously there to provide the crew with handholds where they could not reach a railing or other portion of the ship’s superstructure to support themselves.

  He went to the railing and looked out over the sea.

  The fleet was spread out around them, raggedly, out into the distance. The nearest ship was too far away to make out any details, but even so, Tavi could see that its profile was wrong. It took him a moment of staring to realize that its mainmast was simply missing, snapped off in the storm. At least two more ships were close enough for him to identify similar damage, including one of the oversized Canim warships. Tavi could see no one moving on any of the ships, including his own, and it gave him the odd, uncomfortable sensation that he was the only person alive.

  A gull let out a lonely-sounding cry. Ice crackled, and an icicle fell from a line to shatter on the deck.

  “It’s always like this after a long blow,” came Demos’s quiet voice from behind him.

  Tavi turned to find the ship’s captain emerging from belowdecks, moving calmly over the icy planks to stand beside Tavi. He looked the same as he always did-neat, calm, and dressed in black. His eyes were undershadowed with weariness, and he had several days’ growth of beard. But otherwise he showed no signs of his days-long battle with the elements.

  “The men have been working as hard as a man can, without proper food or sleep for days, sometimes,” Demos continued. “Once the danger is passed, they just drop down and sleep. I practically had to beat them to get them to go to their racks first, this time. Some of them would have slept right on the ice.”

  “Why aren’t you sleeping, too?” Tavi asked.

  “I’m not as tired. I spent the time watching them work,” Demos drawled. Tavi didn’t believe him for a moment. “Someone has to keep his eyes open. I’ll sleep when the bosun wakes up.”

  “Is everyone all right?”

  “I lost three,” Demos said, his voice never wavering. Tavi didn’t mistake it for a lack of feeling. The man was simply too tired to become energetic about anything at all, be it joy or agony. “Sea took them.”

  “I’m sorry,” Tavi said.

  Demos nodded. “She’s a cruel mistress. But we keep coming back to her. They knew what could happen.”

  “The ship?”

  “My ship is fine,” Demos said. Tavi didn’t miss the very quiet note of pride in his voice. “Rest of them, I don’t know.”

  “Those two look damaged,” Tavi said, nodding out to the sea.

  “Aye. Storms can take masts like a waterbuck cropping reeds.” Demos shook his head. “The larger ships had it bad in this one. The fleet’s witchmen were able to keep us from getting completely separated. Seas are calm enough, we might be able to send some flyers around, gather everyone in-once folks start waking up. Give it a couple of hours.”

  Tavi ground his teeth. “There must be something I can do. If you like, get some rest, and I’ll keep an eye on-”

  Demos shook his head. “Not on your life, my lord. Maybe you’re a mad genius at war, but you sail like cows fly. You aren’t commanding my ship. Not even in this pond.”

  Tavi grimaced at Demos but knew better than to argue with the man. Demos had certain views about the order of the universe-simply put, that upon the deck of his ship he should be the foremost policy-making entity. Given that the Slive had survived the storm in fine condition when many of the other ships seemed to have been horribly mauled, Tavi supposed Demos’s opinion was not entirely without foundation.

  “I’ve been lying around like a lazy dog for days,” Tavi said.

  “Like a sick dog,” Demos said. He gave Tavi a direct look. “You don’t look good, my lord. The Marat woman was worried about you. Worked herself harder than any of us, trying not to.”

  “She just got sick of my bellyaching,” Tavi said.

  Demos smiled faintly. “I’ll wager your work will begin shortly, my lord. Then none of us will want to be you.”

  “That’s shortly. I want to do something now,” Tavi said. He squinted around the ship. “The men are going to wake up hungry.”

  “Like baby leviathans, aye.”

  Tavi nodded. “Then I’ll be in the galley.”

  Demos arched an eyebrow. “Set fire to my ship, and I’ll see you roasted alive before she sinks. My lord.”

  Tavi started for the galley and snorted. “I grew up in a steadholt, Captain. I’ve worked in a kitchen before.”

  Demos folded his arms on the ship’s railing. “If you don’t mind me saying, Octavian-you really don’t have any idea at all how to be a Princeps, do you?”

  * * *

  Men began stirring sooner than Tavi would have thought. Partly, that was due to the day’s growing swiftly colder, making sleep in still-damp shipboard clothing difficult. Partly, it was due to the minor injuries and strains associated with hard, dangerous labor. But it was due in large measure to their raw hunger, driving them from rest to fill their growling bellies.

  The ship’s galley included a frost cabinet large enough to require a pair of coldstones, and he was surprised to see how much meat it stored. By the time the men began to rouse themselves, he’d managed to prepare a large amount of mash and sliced and fried four entire hams, in addition to the stacks of ship’s biscuit and gallons of hot, bitter tea. The mash wasn’t much clumpier than the ship’s cook normally made it, and the ham, while perhaps not of gourmet quality, was certainly in no danger of being undercooked. As Demos predicted, the crew dug in with abandon, while Tavi, just as the cook normally did, slapped food onto waiting plates as the men lined up.

  He spent the time talking with each of the sailors, asking them about the storm, and thanking them for a job well done. The sailors, all of whom had become familiar with Tavi on their journey the previous year, spoke with him in familiar, friendly terms that never quite edged all the way into open disrespect.

  The last people in line for food were Maximus, Kitai, and Magnus. The latter had a decidedly disapproving glare on his face.

  “Not a word,” Tavi said quietly as Magnus approached. “Not a crowbegotten word, Magnus. I had to lay there like a bloody infant for more than a week. I’m in no mood to be scolded.”

  “Your Highness,” Magnus said, rather stiffly and just as quietly. “I would not dream of doing so in public. For fear that it would lessen the respect due your office.”

  Max stepped in front of Magnus without hesitation, seized a plate, and plunked it down on the counter next to Tavi. “Hey, cooky,” he said, yawning. “Give me a piece of ham that isn’t burned black. If you made such a thing.”

  “The rats knocked these three onto the floor before they were finished cooking,” Tavi replied, loading Max’s plate. “But then the crowbegotten little things refused to eat them for some reason.”

  “Rats are wise and clever,” Kitai said, putting her own plate down as Max collected his. “Which makes the meat suitable for you, Maximus.” She collected the plate and smiled at Tavi. “Thank you, Aleran.”

  Tavi winked at her and returned her smile, then turned to Magnus.

  The old Cursor lifted his eyes skyward, sighed, and picked up a plate. “Extra mash, please, Your Highness.”

  * * *

  “All right,” Max sighed, shutting the cabin door behind him. The big Antillan held up a small sheaf of paper and tossed it onto the small writing table in front of Magnus. “The Knights Aeris found another two dozen that had wandered astray, and they
’ve changed course to rendezvous with us. Crassus says he thinks we’ve found every ship that came through the storm.”

  Tavi exhaled slowly. “How many did we lose?”

  “Eleven,” Magnus said quietly. “Eight of the Free Aleran, three belonging to the Legion.”

  Eleven ships. With crews and passengers, more than two thousand souls, in all, lost to the fury of the storm.

  “The Canim?” Tavi asked quietly.

  “At current count, eighty-four,” Magnus said quietly. “Most of them transports carrying noncombatants.”

  No one said anything for a moment. Outside, the mourning songs of the Canim, wild and lonely howls, drifted over the icy, placid sea from the dark ships.

  “What condition are we in?” Tavi asked.

  “The Legion transport ships have sustained considerable damage,” Max replied. “Shattered masts, splintered hulls, you name it.”

  “Most of those tubs are still in danger of going under,” Demos said. “We’ll be lucky to make half our normal sailing speed. If the next storm catches us in the open sea, our losses will be a great deal worse.”

  “According to Varg’s letter,” Tavi said, gesturing with another piece of paper, “the Canim ships aren’t much better off than we are. Also according to Varg, the storm has taken us several hundred miles out of our way, north along the Canean coast-hence the calm seas, the cold, and all the ice that we’ve seen in the water. He says that there is a port we might be able to reach nearby. He did not, however, specify our exact location.”

  “Give the overcast a few days to clear, and we can read the stars,” Demos said quietly.

  “I don’t think fortune-telling is the answer here,” Max said. “No offense, Captain.”

  Demos gave Max a level look, then glanced at Tavi.

  “He isn’t talking about fortune-telling, Tribune,” Tavi said. “Sailors over deep water can guide their course by taking a measurement of the positions of the stars.”

  “Oh,” Maximus said, chagrined. “Well. One of our Knights Aeris could take someone up above the cloud cover. It lifts a couple of thousand feet up.”

  “There isn’t a windcrafter alive that could hold steady enough for an accurate measurement, Tribune,” Demos said, without rancor. “Besides, we use points of reference on the ship to accomplish it. So unless they can take the Slive with them…”

  “Oh,” Max said. “Probably not.”

  “In any case, we can’t afford to wait, my lord,” Demos said. “This time of year, another storm is only a matter of time. We might have a few days. We might have hours.”

  Magnus cleared his throat. “If I may, Your Highness. While we are not sure of our precise position, our general location is much more easily determined.” He offered a folded piece of paper to Tavi.

  Tavi took it and unfolded it to reveal a map of what was labeled as the coastline of Canea. A cursory scan of the drawing showed him what Magnus was driving at. “We know we were bound for Narash, Varg’s home,” Tavi said. He traced his finger north along the coast. “And the only Canim realm along the coast to the north of Narash is this one. Shuar.”

  “Pronounced with a single syllable,” Magnus corrected him absently. “It’s another of those words one has to growl from between clenched teeth to speak properly.”

  “Does it really make a difference?” Max asked.

  “Since it seems we will be making landfall there,” Kitai said tartly, “perhaps we should make it a point to pronounce the name of our hosts’ home properly, as opposed to offering them an insult every time we speak it.”

  Max’s spine stiffened, and the muscles along his jawline tightened.

  “Chala,” Tavi said quietly.

  Kitai’s nostrils flared as she gazed steadily at Max. But she glanced aside at Tavi, nodded to the Antillan in a vaguely conciliatory gesture, and settled farther back into the shadows beneath the lower bunk.

  Another worry. The storm and the length of the trip, plus the condition of the ships, the distance from home, and the pure uncertainty of the situation would be putting tremendous pressure upon his people-and if it was showing that overtly between Kitai and Maximus, who had been friends for years and who lived in the comparatively roomy conditions of the Slive, it would be a far-more-intense problem on the more crowded ships of the fleet. He wasn’t sure it would be a problem he could do anything about, either. It was only natural, after all, for men to worry when they were far from home, in strange circumstances, and uncertain if they would return.

  After all-some of them wouldn’t.

  Eleven ships.

  “The point is,” Tavi said, “that if we’re to land within a clear-weather window of hours or days, with a fleet that can barely make half its usual pace, then we’ll be landing somewhere in Shuar.” He made the effort to speak the word properly. “Do we know anything about this… realm? Is it a realm, Magnus?”

  “The word the Canim use for their states translates more accurately to ‘range,’ ” Magnus replied. “The range of Shuar. The range of Narash.”

  “Realm, range,” Tavi said. “What do we know about it?”

  “That it occupies an enormous and highly defensible mountain highland,” Magnus said. “It is one of the three largest ranges in terms of pure area, along with Narash and Maraul-and it has only a single port city, which is called Molvar.”

  “Then it would appear that we’re bound for Molvar,” Tavi said. He smiled. “I wonder if we’re going to have to take the city to be able to land.”

  “Ugh,” Max said. “Do you think it will come to that?”

  “I don’t think it’s impossible,” Tavi said. “If the ranges really are hostile to one another, Varg might have to take the port to be able to land there. Even if they aren’t openly hostile, I can’t imagine that they’ll be overjoyed to see a force of this size come over the horizon.”

  “If that’s the case, maybe we should land elsewhere. It isn’t as though we need a shipyard to make repairs,” Max said. “Once the ship is together, we should be able to craft hulls back together again-we just need some time and quiet for our crafters to work in. Right, Demos?”

  Demos frowned pensively for a moment and nodded. “Yes, for the most part. Masts are more difficult, but they can be remounted even without a yard.”

  Magnus frowned. “Marcus sent me a very interesting report. He was approached by a group of Hunters, who evidently delivered a covert message on behalf of Varg.”

  Tavi pursed his lips. “Go on.”

  “The Hunters indicated to Marcus that while you had Varg’s respect, he might not be able to protect you from other Canim once we reached Canea. He suggested that you might consider turning back rather than continuing the rest of the way.”

  “A warning,” Kitai murmured. “But one he could not deliver personally.”

  “Possibly,” Tavi said.

  “Then let’s take him up on it,” Max said. “No offense, Tavi, but there’s a big difference in fighting an expedition of Canim on our home ground and taking them all on in their house. Especially if there are as many of them as it looks like there are.”

  Tavi scratched absently at his chin. “Exactly. Exactly.” He shook his head. “I don’t think it’s a warning.”

  Kitai tilted her head. “What else would it be?”

  “A test,” Tavi said. “To see if I was serious about dealing with them in good faith.”

  “What?” Magnus spluttered. “You have amply demonstrated that already. We built them a fleet of ships, for goodness’ sake.”

  “If you’ll remember, they were well on the way to building the fleet all on their own,” Tavi said. “And while the Legions most likely would have destroyed them before they could have completed the task, you and I would have not have been alive to see it, Magnus. Nasaug had the First Aleran and the Guard at his mercy, and we all know it.”

  “Regardless, you settled with them peaceably and abided by your word,” Magnus said.

  “Which means n
othing,” Kitai said. “It was simply the swiftest, most certain, and least costly way to be rid of the enemy.”

  “If I turn back now,” Tavi said, “then the trust that the Canim extended to us goes unanswered. It sends them the message that while we may be good to our word, we are uninterested in building faith.”

  “Or,” Max said, “you could avoid being eaten. And all of us being eaten with you.”

  Tavi took a deep breath. “Yes. There is that.” He pointed a finger at Max. “But as you pointed out, Max, there would appear to be a lot more Canim than we ever imagined. Perhaps more than we could fight, should they ever decide that we need to be destroyed. What do the rest of you think?”

  “What else do we not know about them?” Kitai asked.

  “We don’t know what the insides of their bellies look like,” Max said. “We could go home, and we’d never know, and I think I’d never lose a moment’s sleep over it.”

  Tavi grinned at him. “Magnus?”

  “I think this would be an excellent opportunity for someone else to pursue, Your Highness,” Magnus said. “If you proceed, I urge you to do so with extreme caution.”

  “Demos?”

  The captain shook his head. “Don’t ask me about politics, my lord. I can tell you this much-our ships won’t make it back across the open sea, and even if we found all the materials needed to repair them, it would be dangerous to cross before spring. I also think we don’t have time to sit around chatting about it. The weather won’t wait.”

  Tavi nodded once. “Get word to our captains. We make for Molvar with Varg. Any port in a storm.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Gradash stood beside Tavi at the Slive’s prow and watched with him. The lookout in the crow’s nest had spotted land several moments before, so they waited for it to come into sight from their position on the deck. Tavi finally spotted the dark, solid shadow on the horizon.

  Gradash squinted forward, but it was another minute or more before the greying old Cane grunted and flicked his ears in satisfaction. “Ah.”