The Charnel Prince - J. Gregory Keyes [129]
Malconio shook his head. “It’s not even coming this way.”
Anne felt a little queasy again as she sat on the edge of her cot. Austra was peering out through the thick panes of the window.
“They’re coming from backboard,” Anne said, “the other way.”
“I know,” Austra said stiffly. “It’s just—we should be up there.”
“They’re right,” Anne said. “We’d just be in the way.”
“We might be able to help,” Austra protested. “It’s not like we haven’t been in danger before.”
“Yes, but we don’t know anything about sailing or arbalests. And I think Captain Malconio hopes that if our enemies don’t see us there’s some small chance they’ll think they’re chasing the wrong boat.”
Austra shook her head. “Those men are guided by devils. They’ll never stop until we’re dead.”
“Until I’m dead,” Anne corrected. “It’s me they’re after, not the rest of you.”
Austra’s brow bunched. “You’re not thinking of running off again? You promised me you wouldn’t. Or are your promises to me no good now?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Anne demanded.
“Nothing.”
“Look, you’re the one spending all the time with Cazio. You’re the one who has no time for me, anymore,” Anne said.
Austra turned away and said something under her breath.
“What was that?” Anne asked.
“Nothing.”
“Tell me!”
Austra spun then, her face red. “You’ve been lying to me! Lying! Who are you?”
Anne stepped back from her sheer fury. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“I mean you know why they’re after you. You know, and yet you won’t tell me. And like you said, I’m going to get killed as dead as you, and so is Cazio, and z’Acatto—as dead as Neil MeqVren!”
“Don’t mention him!” Anne said.
“Why? Because it’s your fault he got killed?”
Anne’s growing anger collapsed into a lump in her throat, congealed fury and sorrow and frustration. She couldn’t say anything.
Which was fine. Austra had plenty more to say.
“Something happened to you at the coven. You see things other people don’t. You can do things other people can’t. I’ve been waiting for you to explain, but you aren’t going to, are you?”
“Austra—”
“You don’t trust me, do you? When was I ever anything but your loyal friend, even when it was dangerous for me?”
“You don’t understand, Austra. I don’t understand.”
Something struck the ship, hard, and they heard men yelling above deck.
“Well that’s not good enough!” Austra shrieked.
The sails of the Della Puchia began to drop as their pursuer threw a wind shadow over them, and moments later the first of the arbalest stones struck their bow with a hollow thud and bounced off into the water.
“That didn’t do much,” Cazio observed.
“They were just finding their range,” Malconio said grimly. “It will get worse.”
“They aren’t coming any closer.”
“Yes. They’re right in assuming my weapon doesn’t have that kind of range. They’ve got us in their wind shadow, so we can’t move. They’ll stay there and pound us until we sink.”
“Then why did you even set up the arbalest?”
“In case they were stupid. They aren’t.”
While Cazio watched, a pair of the enemy war engines fired, nearly at the same time. Two flaming balls leapt skyward, leaving tails of thick black smoke.
“I see what you mean about it getting worse,” Cazio said.
One of the balls plunged harmlessly into the sea, but the other hit squarely in the middle deck, blossoming in a tulip of flame. One of Malconio’s sailors caught fire, too, and fell screaming and thrashing to the deck as his comrades tried to smother the fire with a wet canvas.
Cazio gripped Caspator’s hilt until his knuckles went white. Malconio was right—he would never even get a chance to kill one of them. He’d never felt so helpless in his life.
He glanced at his brother, intending to ask him if there was anything he could do, but noticed Malconio wasn’t watching the other ship, but was staring out across the sea. And he was smiling.
“What?” Cazio asked.
“Look there,” he said. “At the water.”
Cazio followed his gaze but didn’t see anything remarkable.
Malconio