Page 478

As Althea stared up at her, a terrible chilling knowledge moved deep inside her.

She pushed it aside as one flings off the lingering terror of a nightmare.

Mine, she insisted, Vivacia is mine, my family, my blood.

Yet she gave the low-voiced command, ‘Lop, Jek, get us out of here. Haff, shut up if you can’t be useful.

’ She did not have to speak again. Lop and Jek bent eagerly to their oars.

Vivacia lifted a great hand and pointed commandingly at Paragon.

From her throat issued a high qui-ii-ii like the cry of a striking hawk.

Like a wheeling flock of birds, every serpent head turned towards the blind liveship.

In the next instant a wave of serpents moved towards him in a purposeful rippling of scintillant colours.

Their heads split the water and their gleaming backs wove through the sparkling surface of the waves as they arrowed towards Paragon.

Althea had never seen anything so lovely or so terrifying.

As she watched, their jaws gaped wide, displaying scarlet maws and white teeth.

Like flowers turning to the sun, their multi-hued manes began to open around their throats, standing out like deadly petals.

On Paragon’s deck, Brashen bellowed for them to return to the ship now, as if his command could somehow make the small craft move faster.

Althea stared back at the oncoming serpents and knew it was too late.

Lop and Jek rowed hard, long deep stokes that sent the boat shooting forwards, but a small boat and two rowers could never outdistance these creatures of the sea.

Poor Haff, victim to his memory of his last encounter with a serpent, huddled in the bottom of the boat.

Althea did not blame him. She watched the serpents gain on them, transfixed by danger.

Then a towering blue serpent rose over the boat, his erect mane an immense parasol of tentacles.

All in the boat cried out, but the huge creature merely shouldered them out of its way.

The little boat rocked wildly in the serpent’s wake, only to be struck and spun about by yet another passing snake.

The brush of the passing serpent snatched the oar from Jek’s grip and tore the oarlock loose.

Althea clung to the seat with a white-knuckled grip and hoped they would not capsize.

As the wild rocking of the boat settled, she watched with horror as the serpents surrounded Paragon.

There was nothing she could do for the ship or the crew on board him.

She forced herself to think only of what measures she could take.

The first mate made her decision. ‘Use that oar as a scull and make for the Vivacia. She’s our only hope now. We’ll never get back to Paragon through all those serpents.’

Brashen watched helplessly as Althea’s small boat wallowed and swung in the wakes of the serpent horde.

His mind rapidly sorted and discarded possibilities.

Launching another ship’s boat could not aid them; it would only put more crew at risk.

He looked away from her and took a deep breath.

When his eyes found her again, he regarded her as her captain.

If he believed in her at all, he’d trust her to take care of her boat and her crew.

She’d expect him to do the same. The ship had to be his first responsibility.

Not that there was much he could do. He issued orders anyway.

‘Get our anchor up. I want to be able to manoeuvre if we have to.’ He wondered if he only said it to give the men something to do so they wouldn’t stare at the oncoming wave of serpents.

He glanced at Amber. She held tight to the railing, leaning forwards and speaking low to Paragon, telling him all she could see.

He cast his mind back over his other encounters with serpents.

Recalling Haff’s serpent, he commanded his best bowmen to the rails.

‘Don’t shoot until I tell you,’ he told them harshly.

‘And when you do, take your shot only if you can strike the brightly coloured spots just back of the angle of their jaws. No other target! If you can’t hit it, hold fire until you can.

Every shot has to count.’ He looked back to Amber and suggested, ‘Arm the ship?’

‘He doesn’t want it,’ she replied in a low voice.

‘Nor do I want your archers.’ Paragon’s voice was hoarse.

‘Listen to me, Brashen Trell. Tell your men to set their bows and other weapons down. Keep them to hand, but do not brandish them about. I want no killing of these creatures. I suspect they are no danger to me. If you have any respect for me at all…’ Paragon let the thought die away.

He lifted his arms wide and suddenly shouted, ‘I know you. I KNOW YOU!’ The deep timbre of his bellow vibrated through the whole ship.

Slowly he lowered his arms to his sides. ‘And you know me.’

Brashen stared at him in confusion, but motioned for his bowmen to obey. What did the ship mean? But as Paragon threw back his head and filled his chest with air, Brashen suddenly knew that the ship spoke to the oncoming serpents, not the crew.

Paragon dropped his jaw open wide. The sound that came from him vibrated the planks under Brashen’s feet, and then rose until it became a high ululation. Another deep breath, and then he cried out again, in a voice more like sea-pipes than a man speaking.

In the silence that followed, Brashen heard Amber’s breathless whisper.

‘They hear you. They slow and look at one another. Now, they come on, but cautiously, and every one of them looks to you. They halt and fan out in a great circle around you. Now one comes forwards. He is green but gold flashes from his scales when he turns in the sun –’

‘She,’ Paragon corrected her quietly. ‘She Who Remembers. I taste her in the wind, my planks feel her presence in the water. Does she look at me?’

‘She does. They all do.’

‘Good.’ The figurehead drew breath again, and once more the cavernous language of the sea serpents issued from his jaws.

Shreever followed Maulkin with heavy hearts.

Her loyalty to him was unshaken; she would have followed him under ice.

Shreever had accepted his decision when he surrendered his dominance to She Who Remembers.

She had instinctively trusted the crippled serpent with a faith that went beyond her unique scent.

The serpent herself inspired her confidence.

Shreever felt certain that those two serpents together could save their race.

But of late it seemed to her that these two leaders had given authority over to the silver ship called Bolt.

Shreever could find no trust for her. Although the silver one smelled like One Who Remembered, she had neither the shape nor the ways of a serpent.

Her commands to the tangle made no sense, and her promises to lead them safely to a cocooning place always began with ‘soon’.

‘Soon’ and ‘tomorrow’ were concepts that the serpents could ill afford.

The cold of winter was chilling the waters, and the runs of migratory fish were disappearing.

Already the serpents were losing flesh. If they did not cocoon soon, they would not have the body reserves to last the winter, let alone enough to metamorphose.

But She Who Remembers heeded Bolt, and Maulkin heeded her.

So Shreever followed, as did Sessurea and the rest of the tangle.

Even though this last command from the ship made no sense at all.

Destroy the other silver ship. Why, she wanted to know.

The ship had not threatened them in any way.

He smelled of serpent, in the same confusing, muted way as Bolt did.

So why destroy him? Especially, why destroy him but leave his carcass undevoured?

Why not bear him down and share out his flesh amongst themselves?

From the scent of him, it would be rich with memories.

The other silver they had pulled down had willingly surrendered both flesh and memories to them. Why should this one be any different?

But Bolt had given them their strategy. They were to spray the ship with venom to weaken its structure.

Then the longer males were to fling themselves against the ship to turn it on its side.

Once its wings were in the water, the smaller serpents could add their weight and strength to drag it down.

There they must batter it to pieces, and leave the pieces to sink to the bottom.

Only the two-legs could they eat. A foolish, deliberate waste of energy, life and food.

Was there something about the ship that Bolt feared?

A memory hidden in the silver ship that she did not wish them to share?

Then the silver ship spoke. His voice was deep and powerful, shimmering through the water.

It brushed along Shreever’s scales commandingly.

She slowed, her mane slackening in wonder.

‘Why do you attack me?’ he demanded. In a harsher voice, he added, ‘Does he bid you do this? Does he fear to face me then, but sends others to do this task in his stead? He was not once so guileful about treachery. I thought I knew you. I thought to name you the heirs to the Three Realms. But they were a folk who served their own ends. They did not scurry and slither to a human’s bidding. ’ His voice dripped disdain like venom.

Abruptly the serpents were milling in confusion. They had not expected their victim to speak to them, let alone question and disparage them. She Who Remembers spoke for them all as she demanded, ‘Who are you? What are you?’

‘Who am I? What am I? Those questions have so many answers they are meaningless. And why do I owe you an answer, when you have not replied to my question. Why do you attack me? Do you serve Kennit?’