Kushiel's Chosen - Jacqueline Carey [210]
"Be silent!" Blood darkened his face as he glared at me. "You do not know what you speak of, you! No one treats fairly with pirates, eh? No trade without the gold." Cupping his hands once more, he shouted it to the galley. "No trade without the gold!"
Gulls wheeled overhead, giving their raucous calls during the long pause. I waited it out with my heart in my throat until the spokesman answered. "If you will not send her, then bring her and take the gold yourself! It is our best offer."
Kazan nodded grimly; he had expected no less. "They are ready?" he asked his second officer, a man named Pekhlo.
Pekhlo spoke to the flag-bearer, and a ripple of signals ran from ship to ship. "All are ready, Kazan.”
"Then we will do this." Kazan raised his voice. "Go!"
It happened quickly, so quickly it near bewildered me; I never doubted, after this, their deadly skill as pirates. I daresay dozens of merchanters have felt the same astonishment, being set on by Kazan Atrabiades. The oarsmen set the water churning to white foam, and the ship crossed the distance in a trice, swinging alongside the galley—on the far side, another ship followed suit, while the others drew in easy range of a bow. Grappling hooks soared through the air, thanking deep into the wood of the galley's rails; someone leapt to grab the dangling ladder, and in less space than it takes to tell it, a full dozen Illyrian pirates had swarmed onto the galley.
Beneath the galley's shadow, I could see nothing, heard only scuffling, curses and a brief clash of arms, then muttering stillness. I gazed at Kazan, who looked grimly back at me.
"Very well, pirate," came the voice of the D'Angeline spokesman, sounding distinctly annoyed. "Send up the Comtesse, and take your Elua-cursed gold! We've shown you no reason to break faith, and your men are outnumbered here."
The rope ladder was dangling near at hand, the oarsmen holding the bobbing ship steady. Kazan drew his sword and pointed it at me. "Go," he said softly. "I will follow behind you."
I stared uncomprehending at the point of his sword. "My lord?"
"Go!" he roared.
I went, with Kazan close on my heels, buckler dangling at his back.
It was the D'Angeline spokesman who helped me over the rails, and he gave me no greeting, stepping away quickly as though he were reluctant to touch me. Kazan came lip behind me, his free hand closing hard on my elbow. I saw why, then.
On the deck of the galley, a dozen Illyrians held two-score armed soldiers at an uneasy standoff, their slighternumbers backed by those watching on the other four ships, weapons trained on the galley.
The only D'Angeline things in sight were the spokesman, the Courcel pennant and me.
It was a Serenissiman galley.
FIFTY-SIX
1 whirled so fast I broke Kazan's grip, hissing at him, "You betrayed me!"
His face was shuttered. "No. There was a blockade, at the Caerdicci point. Nikanor never got through it, eh? They caught him, and found the letter." For a fleeting moment, something altered in his expression. "I am sorry, yes. But they had my men, Phèdre. What was I to do, I?" And then his voice hardened again, and he wrenched me around, pushing me forward. "Here is what you want," he said curtly. "Take her."
I stumbled, fetching up before a stocky Serenissiman in a Captain's helmet, a badge on his doublet worked with the familiar tower-and-carrack insignia of the Stregazza family.
"This is the one?" he asked aloud, glancing at Kazan. Without waiting for a reply, he took my chin between finger and thumb, wrenching my face up toward him and scanning it. "A scarlet mote, by the Spear! And the markings?" Turning me, he gathered up my hair in both hands, peering at the nape of my neck where the finial of my marque was visible. "Sure enough. A damned waste of beauty." He released me, nodding casually to two of his men. "Kill her."
My blood