Ships from the West

'They have eschewed the coastal route, the shorter voyage, and have struck out for the open sea,' Lord Orkh, Presbyter of Hebrion, said in his sibilant, heavily accented Norma

'And they are already out of the range of our airborne con­tingents I take it, or else this conversation would be entirely different.'

Orkh licked his lipless mouth. In the darkened room his fulvous eyes glowed with a light of their own and his skin had a reptilian sheen about it.

'Yes, lord. We expected them to make for the Hebrian Gulf, and the direct route to the Astaran coast, but they—'

'They outsmarted you.'

'Indeed. This man who captains the Scahare is a mariner of some repute and is known to you, I believe. Richard Hawk­wood, a native of Gabrion.'

The simulacrum to which Orkh was speaking went silent. It was a shimmering, luminous likeness of Aruan, and now it frowned. Orkh bent his head before its pitiless gaze.

'Hawkwood.' Aruan spat the word. Then, abruptly, he laughed. 'Fear not, Orkh. I am a victim of my own whim it would seem. Hawkwood! He has more bottom than I gave him credit for.' His voice lowered into something resembling the purr of a giant feline. 'You have, of course, set in place an alternative plan for the interception of the Hebrian Queen.'

'Yes, lord. As we speak, a swift vessel is putting out from the Royal yards.'

'Who commands?'

'My lieutenant.'

'The renegade? Ah yes, of course. A good choice. His mind is so consumed by irrational hatred that he will fulfil his mission to the letter. How many days start does Hawkwood have?'

'A week.'

'A week! There are weather-workers among the pursuers, I take it.'

Orkh hesitated a moment and then nodded firmly.

'Good. Then we shall consider that loose end taken care of. What of the Hebrian treasury?'

Here Orkh relaxed a little. 'We captured it almost entirely intact, my lord.'

'Excellent. And the nobility?'

'Hilario, Duke of Imerdon we executed today. That more or less wipes out the top tier of the aristocracy.'

'Aside from your turncoat lieutenant, of course.'

'He is entirely ours, my lord, I can vouch for it personally. And his status will be useful once things have settled down somewhat'

'Yes, I suppose it will. He is a tool apt for many uses. I do not regret sparing him as I do Hawkwood. But had I allowed Hawkwood, as well as Abeleyn, to die at that time I could well have lost Golophin.' Aruan's shade settled its chin on its chest pensively. ‘I would I had more like you, Orkh. Men I can truly trust.'

Orkh bowed.

'But Golophin will see sense yet, I guarantee it. Good! Get that money in the pockets of those who will appreciate it. Buy every venal soul you can and handle Hebrion with a velvet glove. It is silver filigree to Toru

'My captains tell me that with the aid of their weather-workers they will drop anchor before the city in eight days.'

'That will do. I believe that will do. Cartigella will be in­vested by land and sea, and will be made to see sense as Hebrion has.'

'You don't think that the Hebrian Queen is making for her homeland?'

'If she is, the fleet will snap her up, but I doubt it. No, I sense Golophin's hand at work here. He must have healed Hawk­wood and spirited the Queen away. He is in Toru

'Make sure our noble renegade catches this Isolla, Orkh. With her gone, Hebrion will acquiesce to our rule that much more easily. And I will give the kingdom to this man when he kills her. It will doubtless lend even more of an edge to his eagerness when I inform him of his reward. You, I will install in Astarac, for it will prove more troublesome than Hebrion I believe, and you will have to keep an eye on Gabrion. Does that satisfy you?'

For an instant what might have been a thin black tongue flickered between Orkh's lips. 'You honour me, lord.'

'But now the war in the east gathers pace. The assault on Gaderion will begin soon, and the Perigrainian army is pre­paring to move on Rone from its bases in Candelaria. We will enter Toru

'Do not fail me, Orkh,' it said casually, and then winked out.

The Hibrusian was a sleek barquentine which displaced some six hundred to

The signal came. Three guns fired at short intervals, three bubbles of grey smoke from the battlements preceding the distant boom of their detonation. The Revenant slipped her moorings, set jibs and fore-and-aft courses on main and mizzen, and began to carve a bright wake through the choppy sea with the wind square on her starboard beam. On her quarterdeck, the thing which had once been Lord Murad of Galiapeno gri

Thirteen

'Keep her thus until four bells,' Hawkwood told the helms­man. 'Then bring her one point to larboard. Arhuz!' 'Skipper?'

'Be prepared to send up the mizzen topsail when we alter course. If the wind backs call me at once. I am going below.'

'Aye, sir,' Arhuz answered smartly. He checked the xebec's course on the compass board and then swept the decks with his gaze, noting the angle of the yards, the fill of the sails, the condition of the ru

He was exhausted. For days he had been on deck con­tinually, snatching occasional dozes in a sling of canvas spliced to the mizzen shrouds, and eating upright on the xebec's narrow quarterdeck with one eye to the wind and another to the sails. He had pushed the crew and the Seahare very hard, straining to extract every knot of speed out of the sleek craft and keeping the helmsmen on tenterhooks with minute variations of course to catch errant breezes. The log had been going continually in the forechains and a dozen times a day (and night) the logsman would cast his board into the sea while his mate watched the sands trickling through the thirty-second glass and cry nip when the time ran out. And the line would be reeled back in and the knots which had been run out by the ship's passage counted. So far, with a beam wind like this to starboard, the fore-and-aft rig of the xebec was drawing well, and they were averaging seven knots. Seven long sea-miles an hour. In the space of six days, ru