Chapter 3

Everyone promptly forgot about Blade for a while. The captain was clearly determined to be sure all his own men were armed and ready to fight before he let Blade loose among them. Blade didn't blame the man, but he didn't like the prospect of facing the pirates armed only with the sword and the club and wearing nothing but his bare skin.

The pirates themselves were no particular surprise to Blade. Virtually every civilization trading by sea found pirates preying on that trade sooner or later. At times pirates grew so prosperous that they became almost like independent war-like states. Blade remembered the pirates who'd fought a full-scale war against the Kingdom of Royth.

So the seven ships were a convoy, sailing together for mutual protection. The seventh ship astern was probably an escorting warship. Blade looked aft, and saw the black ship pulling out to port. He'd guessed right. She was low and rakish, with lateen sails on both masts. Though she carried plenty of sail, she was clearly designed to be easily rowed as well. Twenty oars were already in action on the side Blade could see, and armed men were gathering amidships. Sunlight blazed from the metal of armor and weapons.

The warship now came racing up the port side of the convoy, red oars beating fast and foam curling up silver at her bow. The shape of the bow wave hinted at a ram lurking just below the surface. On the stern someone pounded away at two large drums, and someone else signaled with a long pole with a colored disk on either end.

Meanwhile, the crew of Blade's ship were arming themselves with a speed and efficiency that suggested they were used to this sort of thing. Blade hoped they were, or he might wind up regretting his alliance with them. The weapon racks on the aftercastle emptied swiftly. From below someone began handing up armor. The two archers got scale-mail jackets like the captain's. Nearly everyone else got a coat of boiled leather and a helmet with a jointed tailpiece to protect the neck.

Two men staggered up through the hatch, carrying an iron pot filled with hot coals, and emptied it over the side. Other men who'd finished pulling on their armor were scurrying about, setting out buckets of water and sand, axes, and more spears. Three fresh men took over at the tiller. Beside them a sailor laid out vials, bottles, and strips of cloth for bandages.

Blade had just about decided that he really was going to have to fight this battle in his skin when someone ran up to the foc'sle and threw a bundle at his feet. «Here, man! Cap'n says you put this on.» Blade found trousers, a linen shirt, and a helmet. The helmet fit perfectly and the trousers were snug but wearable. The shirt was hopeless and Blade wound up wrapping it around his left arm as a protection against knife thrusts. He could have done better, but in most kinds of fighting he could make his great speed a substitute for armor.

As Blade finished dressing, the black galley cut across the bow of his ship, then backed her oars to drop astern. She passed between Blade's ship and the one to port, then took station between the two lines of merchant ships. All the men on the galley's deck were heavily armed. Half of them carried bows and quivers, while most of the rest carried spears or two-handed swords.

A little more maneuvering by the six merchant ships followed, and now Blade began to see what the Goharans were planning. The six merchant ships were moving into a rough square, with the galley in the middle. The merchant ships were close enough to support one another, and there was room inside the square for the galley and her fighting men to move freely to the rescue of any merchant ship which needed even more help.

The merchant ships were plodding along at no more than three or four knots, so even the best seamanship couldn't get them into battle formation quickly. By the time the square was taking shape, the pirates were in sight from the foc'sle of Blade's ship. Everyone was still too busy to tell him where to go or what to do, so he stayed where he was, watching the pirates close in on the convoy.

The three pirate ships were low and rakish, with two high masts carrying enormous lateen sails. The hulls were painted and the sails dyed a bluish-gray, obviously to blend in with the sea and sky. The ships had platforms rigged along either side, and another mounted on their stubby bowsprits. They were coming in under full sail, heeling over so far that the leeward platforms sometimes churned up spray. They were lean, stripped for action, and thoroughly formidable-true wolves of the sea, coming down fast on the flock of sheep. At least that was the way it might look to an outsider, but Blade had his doubts that the merchant ships would prove quite so sheeplike.

With their lateen sails, the three pirates could sail much closer to the wind than the square-rigged, fat-hulled merchant ships. They came in from well off to starboard, not shortening sail at all and staying as close together as if they were running a race. Apparently this was the pirates' reply to the tactics of the Goharans-striking all together, to board the same ship or pair of ships in overwhelming numbers and carry them off before the escorts could intervene. Pirates or privateers could always cram more fighting men aboard their ships than any merchant captain who needed to show a profit on the voyage.

Certainly these ships were carrying heavy crews. The decks of all three pirate ships were crowded, and all the men Blade could see were apparently wearing red-lacquered armor or red body paint. From foremast to stern, the deck of each pirate ship showed the rusty red of dried blood. It gave them a distinctly sinister appearance.

The pirates drew still closer, in the oppressive silence possible only in a sea battle fought without gunpowder. Water clucked and splashed alongside Blade's ship, the planks underfoot creaked, occasionally someone swore or gave an order. Once a bucket fell, with a clatter like an explosion. At times Blade had the feeling that these ships would vanish like mist if he blinked or coughed.

Blade also realized that the pirates were making his ship their first victim. Up here on the foc'sle he might have a better view, but soon he'd also be a better target. Blade dropped down to the main deck, picked up two spears, stuck them point down in the crack between two planks, then stepped to the railing.

By now the pirates were so close that men were climbing out on the bowsprits. They seemed to be wearing only kneelength breeches and sleeveless tunics, with flat black hats. Every square inch of exposed skin was painted rust-red. On the very end of the bowsprit of the nearest ship stood a barechested figure, brandishing two curved swords over his head.

Then one of the archers aboard Blade's ship drew, his bow twanged, and an arrow stood out from the pirate's chest. He staggered, dropping one sword, then toppled from his perch. He was still holding the other sword as he struck the water and the bow of his own ship smashed him down into the depths.

Like a pin puncturing a balloon, the pirate's death released all the pent-up noise on both sides. Blade found himself shouting wordless cries along with all his shipmates, while spearbutts thudded on the deck and the flats of swords clattered against the railings. From the pirate ships war cries floated back, along with obscene threats, the shrill wail of flutes, and the thud of furiously beaten drums. The archer shot again, and the cries and threats from the pirates grew even louder. Blade noticed that in spite of all their shouting the pirates didn't forget to throw themselves flat on the decks. He waited for the pirates' archers to reply, and thought he was waiting calmly until he realized that he was holding his breath. No matter how many battles you fight, it still makes a difference to know that you may be dead in the next minute.