Kushiel's Chosen - Jacqueline Carey [209]
So did I muse, and pass the time aboard the ship, while sun-gilded isles slid past us along the coastline. Glaukos called me aside one day, pointing to the distant east, where a causeway from the mainland rolled out to meet a mighty walled city on the sea.
"Epidauro," he murmured, as if fearful Kazan would hear. I saw many bright-sailed ships gathered in the harbor there, tiny flecks of color against the granite walls. We had given the city a wide berth. Even so, men muttered and made signs against evil, while Kazan stared straight ahead, his jaw clenched with anger.
It was on the following day that we turned west and into the open sea.
A steady breeze blew at our backs, and the ships leapt forward like winged creatures, plunging buoyantly over the deep-blue waves. Seldom were the decks level for long, and I gave thanks to Blessed Elua that I had a strong stomach for sailing. Joscelin would have been green-faced andwretched; it is the only time I was glad he was not with me, though the thought of him made me smile. It was a little frightening, but mostly exhilarating. Even Kazan's mood lightened somewhat, although he would not look at me.
Two days we took making the crossing, and at dawn on the third, he turned back to the grim business at hand, issuing curt orders which were passed by flag-signals from ship to ship. Arms were brought forth from the hold, wrapped in oilcloth against the dampness; swords were honed and bowstrings waxed and plucked, bucklers hefted to test their balance on the swaying decks, javelins sighted down their lengths, ropes snapped on grappling hooks to measure their strength.
By noon we saw the island, a grey hummock rising out of the sea, a patch of green scrub showing faintly where the harbor lay, and the freshwater spring by which sailors knew it. Some leagues beyond it, the Caerdicci coast was a dim haze on the horizon.
And there before it, at deep-sea anchor, rode a single galley. Her sails were lowered against the wind, but there, atop the center mast, flew a familiar pennant—the silver swan of House Courcel. Tears stung my eyes to look upon it, and my heart soared within my breast.
We dropped sail some distance away, Kazan signaling the other ships to fan out in an encircling crescent, bringing the larger craft to bay. Six sailors on each vessel went to oars, using them cunningly to maintain position on the rocking waves. Two scrambled atop the forecastle of each, training arrows on the D'Angeline galley. No sign came from the galley, although I could see people aboard watching, and sunlight glinting off armor.
When he was satisfied that his men were in position, Kazan stepped up to the prow and cupped his hands about his mouth, hailing the galley in Caerdicci.
"No trade until my men are returned!" he shouted. "I will see them safe first, eh? You put them in a skiff, you, and send them out to us!"
The figures aboard the galley moved, conferring, and thena single figure came forward to reply. His words carried faintly over the water, spoken in D'Angeline-accented Caerdicci. "Show us the Comtesse!"
Glaukos took my arm, leading me the length of the ship to stand beside Kazan. Whatever they saw at that distance, it was enough to satisfy them, for presently a small skiff was lowered into the water and eight men clambered down a rope ladder into it. Kazan pointed toward the other ships. For long, agonizing moments we waited as the skiff was rowed out to meet the Illyrian vessels, three ships taking aboard two men. With each careful exchange, the flag-bearer signaled victory to Kazan. At last it was done, and the two rowers rested their oars, looking back at the galley for orders.
"Now send the gold, you," Kazan called to the galley, "and I will send the girl!"
Another conference aboard the galley, and the spokesman's reply. "We have given our surety, pirate! Send the Comtesse first and we will send the gold."
It needed only