The middle deck of the galley was clear except for two hatches and the three masts, and completely covered over. It provided a sheltered place for the soldiers and sailors to sleep, cook, and wait for battle. Most of the soldiers and sailors were either on the upper deck fighting or down below getting killed by the galley slaves. Blade and Khraishamo went to work on the few left, closing in to avoid being targets for the archers.
An archer was trying to block Blade's sword with his bow when Khraishamo shouted.
«Blade! It's him!»
Blade whirled. There was only one man aboard this ship Khraishamo would call «him.»
Kloret was hurrying down the ladder from the upper deck, wearing gold-scaled armor and with silver-armored guards on either side of him. As his foot touched the deck, Blade snatched a fallen spear from the deck, fended off the clumsy lunge of a soldier, aimed for the Prime Minister's groin, and threw.
One of the guards leaped forward, throwing himself in front of his master. He took the spear in the thigh, howled in pain, and reeled. As he reeled, he crashed heavily against the Prime Minister. Kloret was in the act of drawing his sword, and had only one hand free to fight for balance. It wasn't enough. He stumbled on the raised edge of the after hatch, let out a scream of sheer terror, then vanished down the hatch with a clatter and a crash.
There was a moment's silence, while everyone on the main deck stood paralyzed. Then an animal howl from fifty throats rose from the hatch, followed by a single man's gurgling scream. Blade started looking for the nearest ladder to the upper deck. He didn't need to worry about Kloret anymore. When a man falls into a pool of hungry sharks, you don't need to watch each bite they take out of him to know he's dead.
Blade didn't bother with looking around once he reached the upper deck. He dashed for the railing, Khraishamo beside him. In fact, the pirate reached the railing first, in spite of his short legs. He plunged through a splintered gap, and Blade heard a clean splash from below.
As Blade reached the gap he had a vague impression of a second large ship looming up at the edge of his vision. Then he was springing out into midair, and at the same moment he felt a sharp blow in the left buttock. Then he felt the stinging impact with the water, and was thrashing downward and outward to get away from Kloret's ship.
For a long time the world was only green water and dim shadows. Some of them looked unpleasantly like sharks, but none of them came close enough to let Blade be sure. Then he popped to the surface, sucked air into bursting lungs, and saw Khraishamo rise like a dolphin beside him. Directly in front of them loomed a huge blue galley, with Harkrat's banners flying from all her masts.
Blade and Khraishamo swam toward King Bull, trying to look harmless. The galley was lying on her oars. Blade reached the ends of the oars, ignored a dull ache in his left buttock, trod water, and shouted: «Ahoy, Your Radiance! It's Blade of England and Khraishamo, a friend.»
Somebody on deck let out a strangled squawk, like a chicken with its neck being wrung. Then a rope ladder snaked down the galley's side.
«I guess they believe you,» said Khraishamo.
«Maybe,» said Blade. «At least it's too big a lie for two ordinary slaves to think of!»
They climbed up the ladder, and on deck Harkrat met them. He was wearing full armor, and looked ten years older than when Blade last saw him. He'd also lost a good deal of weight, but that was an improvement.
The Emperor looked Blade up and down, while on either hand his guards and councilors fidgeted and muttered about his spending time on these madmen. Then: «By HemiGohar, it is Blade!» He looked at Khraishamo. «And this is the Bloodskin-«
«Sarumi,» said Blade.
«You haven't changed,» said Harkrat. «All right, this is Khraishamo. Welcome aboard, and-oh, excuse me.» He reached around behind Blade and tugged. Blade felt the dull ache in his left buttock turn into a sharp pain, and then Harkrat was holding up a bloody arrow.
«This was sticking out of your arse when you climbed on board. Hope you've got a good story how it hit you there.» He looked from Blade to Khraishamo and back to Blade. «And maybe a few other good stories too. Go on below to my cabin. This time we've got something better than Blue Swallow's ale.»
Chapter 26
Harkrat sent a doctor to treat Blade's wound, but didn't come below himself for several hours. Khraishamo wanted to spend the time on deck, but found that even with the Emperor's blessing he drew too many peculiar looks. So he came below again.
They were into the second jug of wine when the Emperor rejoined them. He chased out all the servants, poured himself a cup, and gave them a brief summary of the rest of the battle. It was definitely a victory for the odd alliance of Goharans and Mythoran rebels, but not a complete and final disaster for the Sarumi. Sixty of their ships were able to break off the action and flee. The Mythoran sailing ships couldn't pursue, Degyat's galleys had lost too many men, and the Goharan admirals were slow to grasp what was happening. Harkrat hadn't cared for that, and he'd gone aboard a few of the other flagships to tell them so.
«It didn't help much, though,» he said, emptying his cup and pouring it full again. «By the time I got those bastards awake, the weather started going bad on us. Looks like there's another storm brewing, so we're heading back for Mythor. Bit of a wind blowing, though, so we can rest the rowers.»
Blade and Khraishamo looked at each other. The escape of about half the Sarumi was good news for both of them. Khraishamo could be happy that hundreds of warriors who'd once been his comrades would live to fight another day.
Blade was happy for a different reason. If the Sarumi remained a menace for a generation or so, they would force Gohar and Mythor to keep peace with each other. The two great trading cities of the Sea wouldn't care to waste men and money fighting each other as long as they needed to protect their ships from the Pirate Folk. That, however, was not a reason the others in this cabin would appreciate now.
Harkrat refilled Blade's and Khraishamo's cups, called for more wine, then glared at Blade. «And now, Man from the Future, it's time you told me what you've been doing these past few months. If it isn't a good story…»
«It is,» said Blade, and started telling of his adventures, straight through from his first night with Fierssa to the death of Kloret at the hands of the galley slaves. At times Harkrat asked for names Blade wouldn't supply, but Blade always refused, until the Emperor burst out: «Damn it, Blade! You can trust me. I want to know these people so I can honor them or at least talk to them. I'm not interested in lopping off anybody's heads, not now. Mythor's made its rebellion and that's an end of it. Now our job's to get together, Mythor and Gohar, and work out a peace we can all live with.»
«You say that,» said Khraishamo. «What about others in Gohar?»
«What others?» said Harkrat. «I'm Emperor, and if they forget that I'll remind them. Nobody to help them, either, now that Kloret's dead.»
So Blade went back and filled in the details he'd left out, then finished his story. By the time he'd done this, the new wine had arrived. He found he wasn't thirsty.
Harkrat was. He drank off what must have been his fifth or sixth cup, then said sharply, «You've done a lot, Blade. Most of it's been good. What made you think you could do it without making trouble for your own future?»
Blade smiled. «I didn't mention this before to anyone» — a little white lie which would do no harm- «but I did know that Mythor was going to become independent. So I knew that the rebellion by itself wasn't likely to destroy the future, England, and me. As for all the things I did to make that rebellion come about-well, I'm still here.»