* * *
On board Urko's flagship, the Genabackan barque Keth's Loss, Ullen watched the latest wave of Moranth Silver quorls, exhausted, come scudding in low over the waves to set down ever so daintily on shore. Made of spun glass, the giant dragonfly-like monsters seemed to him. Yet surprisingly sturdy. Each carried two riders, a handler and passenger, plus one small box – one exceedingly precious box. The riders dismounted and unloaded the quorl. The passenger, a Moranth Gold warrior, would assemble for transport in one of the ten contracted Moranth Blue galleys while the handler would take his mount to rest and eat. So elegant, Ullen reflected, the flying creatures with their four tissue-thin wings and long segmented tails. Until you see them eat. The damned monsters ate live prey.
A messenger presented papers for his inspection – objections regarding space for water requisition. Ullen scrawled ‘Maximum!’ and handed back the orders then returned to studying the foreigners. Forty more Gold warriors for Urko's grand alliance of the disaffected. Some two thousand of them now. And the last wave of recruitment, too. Word had come from Quon; events were far ahead of schedule. The fleet had to move now or risk becoming a footnote.
Further out to sea, beyond the anchorage, swift scout vessels already scoured the sea-lanes southward, securing the route of the hundred-vessel convoy that would sail this very night.
‘Watching our Genabackan allies, aren't you?’ came a woman's rich contralto. Ullen turned. Dominating the mid-deck beneath a shading canopy sat Urko's new mage cadre leader, the ample, midnight-hued Dal Honese witch, Bala Jesselt.
Ullen allowed himself a guarded nod. ‘Yes.’
‘Can we trust them, hmm? Why are they with us, yes? What are their goals?’
‘Yes? What are they? You are the mage.’
Bala shrugged her thick shoulders, fanned her face. ‘Well, who can say? Their minds work in strange ways.’
‘Strong allies for now though.’
‘Yes … for now.’
Ullen chose to overlook the opening – Bala was notorious for her innuendo and constant scheming for self-advancement. Her unbridled ambition had had her eliminated from the cadre long ago. No doubt Urko believed he could keep her in check, but Ullen wondered. Further messages arrived. Bala continued fanning her glistening sweaty face while Ullen answered each. ‘What of you?’ she asked as he struggled with the final order of sailing.
‘I'm sorry?’
Once Adjutant to Choss, now a mere staff-chief. A demotion, yes?’
Ullen returned the orders. He gave the new mage cadre leader his best smile. ‘I think of it as more of a sideways move.’
She sighed her disappointment, flicked her fan. ‘I suppose one must make the best of what little one can manage.’
‘Speaking of what little one can manage – what word from Li Heng or Dal Hon?’
The fan snapped shut. ‘Do not mock me! All of you should be grateful for my presence! If it were not for me shielding this fleet Admiral Nok would have sunk the lot of you.’
‘Nok is wholly preoccupied by the Seven Cities pacification. He is wise enough to keep to one war at a time.’
Bala's laugh shook her wide bosom. ‘What could you know of the mind of a commander as great as he?’
Ullen almost explained that he was Choss's adjutant and that Choss had been Nok's prote′ge′, but he realized the effort would be lost on one such as this. He gratefully accepted the distraction of a Gold Moranth messenger arrived by launch. ‘Yes?’
‘Commander V'thell once again asks to be informed of our destination.’
‘Inform V'thell that for reasons of security no one but Urko knows our destination. Not even I know. Word will be given once the fleet is at sea.’
‘Very well. What of storms scattering the fleet?’
‘We will communicate by flag, lantern and,’ he nodded to Bala, ‘mage. What of your quorls?’
‘All the quorls will be returned. They hate the water.’
‘A shame that.’
The messenger bowed and climbed down the side to the waiting launch. Idly, Ullen wondered if a Moranth in all his armour would sink just as swiftly as any normal armoured man, and whether they were insane not to bow in any way to the altered circumstances of travel at sea.
A half-bell later he decided, reluctantly, that now was as good a time as any. He called to a flagman, ‘Signal for the larger vessels, the Blues, and the dromonds, to begin exiting the anchorage.’ The Dal Hon witch now had her sleepy-eyed attention on the captain's cabin containing Urko. The man was probably staying in there solely to avoid her. ‘What can you do to speed our passage?’ he asked her. ‘Events are moving faster than we.’
‘I? I am no Chem priestess. And the Warren of Mael is a mystery to me, thank Thesorma.’
Ullen rubbed his eyes. Why have the Gods cursed him so? ‘Do you know anyone who can be of help? Any of our associates or sympathizers?’
The fan slid open and resumed fluttering. ‘I will make inquiries.’
‘Thank you.’
As the day's light faded Ullen kept in communication with the fleet through the flag signalmen for as long as he could. Lanterns appeared more and more often, flashing their coded responses. All the while Bala's fan fluttered as a blur. Sometimes she seemed to whisper into it while at other times she wafted its wind over the side of her face. Ullen shaded his gaze to take in the distant huge Blue transports far out to sea. Impatient, that Gold commander, V'thell.
At one point Bala jerked as if pinched, biting back a gasp, and Ullen swung on her. ‘Yes?’
The fan resumed its blurred flashing. The puffed lazy eyes slid to the darkening horizon. ‘Strange scents from Stratem. Something there. Something very powerful. I smell it; even this far across the world.’
Stratem? Who gave a damn about Stratem? ‘Any word on who could help us with the crossing?’
She nodded. ‘A hint. A sympathizer in Unta. His representatives are open to the possibility. I think they want gold or political influence in return.’
Tell them that if they speed our passage they will get whatever they ask for.’
The Dal Hon witch appeared doubtful; she pursed her full lips. ‘I shall. But a dangerous promise. Who knows what they might ask for?’
‘I don't care if they ask for Hood himself. We've dawdled here assembling long enough. We must move.’
‘Very well. I will negotiate with this mage of Ruse.’