Mad Ship

"I'm an honest Bingtown Trader. You have no call to stop me, nor will I submit to search. Be out of our way!"

The grapples were already spi

Ophelia herself caught the third. In a sudden motion, she plucked it out of the air as it whirred past her. With a shout of anger, she gripped the line below the grapple and snatched up the rope. The man who had thrown it came with it, kicking and cursing in surprise. She disdainfully threw grapple, rope and sailor aside into the water. She set her fists to where a woman's hips would have been. "Don't try that again!" she warned them angrily. "Get out of our way or I'll run you down!"

From the galley came cries of amazement and fear. While many had undoubtedly heard of the liveships of Bingtown, few Chalcedean sailors would have ever seen one before, let alone seen one angered. Liveships seldom frequented the ports of Chalced; their trade routes were to the south. From the galley, a line was thrown to the Chalcedean sailor struggling in the water.

On board the Ophelia, Captain Tenira bellowed, "Ophelia, let me handle this!" while on the galley deck below them the Chalcedean captain angrily called for firepots to be prepared.

Ophelia paid no attention to her captain. At the mention of firepots, she had first gasped, then shrieked her wordless anger when she saw the smoking pots of tar brought out on his deck. For them to be readied so swiftly meant that the captain of the galley had had them prepared from the begi

The Ophelia was a trading cog, not built for fighting of any kind. Pirates seldom menaced liveships. It was well known that a liveship could out-maneuver and out-sail any ordinary ship of her kind. Althea doubted that anyone had ever challenged Ophelia for right of passage before, let alone demanded to board her. She carried no weaponry; her sailors had no experience in turning aside this kind of a threat. As Tenira shouted the orders that would veer Ophelia to one side, men raced to obey. "It won't be enough," Althea said in an undertone to Grag, at her side. "They'll set fire to us."

"Get oil from belowdecks. We'll throw firepots of our own!" Grag commanded angrily.

"And draw water for firefighting!" Althea shouted. "Grag. A spare spar, an oar, anything. Give Ophelia something to use to fight them! Look. She's not going to back down."

While her decks bustled with frantic activity, Ophelia again took matters into her own hands. Despite the man on the wheel, she leaned toward the galley, not away. She stretched forth both her arms, and as the Chalcedean firepots were kindled and the bows drawn, she slapped wildly at the galley like an infuriated schoolgirl, all the while shrieking insults. "You Chalcedean pigs! Do you think you can stop us in our own waters? You lying sons of whores! You are the true pirates, you slave-mongering vermin!" One of her windmilling slaps co

One struck her on her starboard bow. Without hesitation, the ship slapped at the burning smear. She pulled back her hand and the tar on her hull flamed up again. She screamed as her fingers ignited suddenly.

"Smother the flames!" Althea yelled to her as crew members poured water down her hull in an effort to put out the fire on her bow. Ophelia was in too much panic to heed her. She bore down suddenly on the galley, her sheer will defying her rudder and with her flaming hands caught hold of the smaller boat. She shook it like a toy, then flung it contemptuously aside. She left most of the burning residue from her hands on the other ship. As she let go of it, she clasped her great hands together. Gritting her teeth savagely, she clenched her hands into fists, squeezing out the flames that had seared her. Then, like an affronted lady lifting her skirts and storming out of the room, she suddenly answered both helm and sails. She turned aside from the troubled galley, opening the water wide between her and the smaller vessel. She tossed her head as she sailed past it.

Flames roared, and black smoke billowed up in harmony with the cries of the sailors trapped on the burning ship. Some one or two had the wind and the will to shout threats after Ophelia, but the noise of the fire shushed their words into unintelligible cries. The Ophelia sailed on.

CHAPTER SIX

Satrap Cosgo

"I'M BORED AND MY HEAD ACHES. DISTRACT ME FROM MY PAIN. AMUSE ME." The voice came from the divan behind her.

Serilla did not even put down her pen. "Magnadon Satrap, that is not my duty," she pointed out quietly. "You summoned me here to advise you on the Bingtown matter." She gestured at the opened scrolls and books on the table. "As you can see, that is what I am prepared to do."

"Well, you can scarcely expect me to pay attention to your advice while my head is throbbing so. I can hardly see for the pain."

Serilla set aside the texts she was perusing. She turned her attention to the young man sprawled facedown on the divan. The Satrap was nearly engulfed by silken cushions. She tried to keep the a

The Satrap groaned. "Serilla, you delight in giving me headaches. If you can't be more sympathetic, go away and send in Veri. Or that new Companion from the Jade Island. What was her name? It reminded me of a spice. Meg. Send in Meg."

"Gladly shall I obey you, Magnadon Cosgo." She did not bother to hide her affront as she shoved the texts away and pushed back from the table.

He rolled about in his pillows, then stretched a pale hand out toward her. "No. I've changed my mind. I know that I must hear your wisdom about Bingtown. All my advisors have told me the situation is crucial. But how can I think when I am in such pain? Please. Rub my head for me, Serilla. Just for a short time."

Serilla arose from her table, and put a determinedly pleasant expression on her face. She reminded herself that the Bingtown issue must be resolved. It might even be resolved to her personal advantage. "Magnadon Cosgo, I did not mean to be vexing. Do you have a headache? Let me massage it away. Then we will speak about Bingtown. As you say, the issue is crucial. And in my opinion, the Satrap's present position with them is untenable." She crossed the chamber and pushed a number of pillows to the floor. She seated herself on the end of the divan. Cosgo immediately crawled over and put his head in her lap. He closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek against her thigh like a lamb nuzzling for milk. She clenched her teeth.