Helliconia Summer - Brian W. Aldiss [422]
Pasharatid’s Union was turning, to present itself broadside-on to the coast.
Heaving at the ropes, the men tried to get the second cannon into place.
Confronting the queen with folded arms, CaraBansity said, ‘Madam, I gave the king good advice which was ill taken. Let me now offer you a similar dose and hope for a kindlier reception. You and your ladies should saddle up hoxneys and ride inland, making no delay.’
Her face lit with a sad smile. ‘I’m glad of your concern, Bardol. You go. Return to your wife. This place has become my home. You know Gravabagalinien is said to be the residence of the ancient ghosts of those who were killed in a battle long ago. I would rather join those shades than leave.’
He nodded. ‘So it may be. I shall stay too, ma’am, in that case.’
Something in her expression showed him she was pleased by what he said. On impulse, she asked, ‘What do you make of this misalliance between our friend Rushven and the Uskuti lady – an admiral, no less?’
‘She keeps quiet, but that does not reassure me. It might be safer to pack those two off. There’s always more than an arm up a Sibornalese sleeve. We must use our cunning, ma’am – there’s little enough else on our side.’
‘She appears genuinely devoted to my ex-chancellor.’
‘If so, she has deserted the Sibornalese cause, ma’am. And that may give this man Pasharatid another reason for coming ashore. Pack her off, for everybody’s safety.’
At sea, smoke billowed, concealing all but the sails of the Union. A moment later, explosions were heard.
The shots landed in the water at the foot of a low cliff. With a second salvo, the marksmen would be more accurate. Evidently the lookout had sighted the manoeuvring of the cannon on shore.
But the shots proved to be no more than warnings. The Union swung to port and began sailing straight towards the little bay.
The queen stood alone, her long hair, still unbound from the night, streaming in the wind. There was a sense in which she was prepared to die. It might be the best way of resolving her troubles. She was – to her dismay – not prepared to accept TolramKetinet, an honest but insensitive man. She was vexed with herself for putting herself under emotional obligation to him. The truth was, his body, his caresses of the night, had merely roused in her an intense longing for Jan. She felt lonelier than before.
Moreover, she divined with melancholy detachment Jan’s loneliness. That she might have assuaged, had she herself been more mature.
Out to sea, monsoon rain created gulfs of darkness and slanting light. Showers burned across the waters. The clouds loomed lower. Good Hope was almost lost in murk. And the sea itself – MyrdemInggala looked, and saw that her familiars were choking the waves. What she had mistaken for choppiness was the ferment of their bodies. The rain drove in at speed and dashed itself against her face.
Next second, everyone was struggling through a heavy downpour.
The cannon stuck, its wheels spun in mud. A man fell on his knees, cursing. Everyone cursed and bellowed. The fusee in its perforated tin would be doused if the downpour continued.
Hope of placing the cannon effectively was now dead. The wind veered with the storm. The Union was blown towards the bay.
As the ship drew level with the Linien Rock, the dolphins acted. They moved in formation, retinue and regiment. The entrance to the bay was barred by their bodies.
Sailors in the Union, half-blinded by rain, shouted and pointed at the teeming backs beneath their hulls. It was as if the ship ran across black shining cobbles. The dolphins wedged their bodies solid against the timbers. The Union slowed, groaning.
Screaming with excitement MyrdemInggala forgot her sorrows and ran down to the water.