Page 519

AN ULTIMATUM

A LTHEA WAS NOT gracious about leaving the foredeck.

She had seen the oncoming sails, and her fears for Vivacia battled with her hopes of Kennit’s defeat.

Wintrow’s urgent pleas went unheeded until Vivacia herself turned to her.

‘Althea. Please go below. This might be my chance to strike a bargain with Kennit. It will be easier for me if you are not present.’ Althea had scowled, but left the foredeck, Jek trailing after her.

Wintrow made a hasty side trip to the galley, to cobble together a large tray of food and drink.

By the time he reached the cabin, Althea and Malta were already facing one another across the room.

The Satrap had thrown himself onto the bunk and was staring at the wall.

Jek sat morosely in the corner. Malta was furious.

‘I don’t understand why either of you would take his part.

He pirated our liveship, killed her crew and holds my father captive. ’

‘You are not listening,’ Althea said coldly. ‘I despise Kennit. All the assumptions you have made are false.’

Wintrow clashed the tray down onto the small table. ‘Eat and drink something. All of you. Then talk, one at a time.’

The Satrap rolled to look at the table. His eyes were red.

Wintrow wondered if he had been weeping silently.

His voice was choked with an emotion, possibly outrage.

‘Is this another of Kennit’s humiliations for me?

I am expected to eat here, in these crowded circumstances, in the company of common folk? ’

‘Magnadon Satrap, it is no worse than sharing a table with pirates. Or eating alone in your room. Come. You must eat if you are to keep up your strength.’

Wintrow and Althea exchanged incredulous looks at Malta’s solicitous tone.

Witnessing this, Wintrow felt suddenly uncomfortable.

Were they lovers? His aunt’s admission had made all sorts of unthinkable things possible.

‘I’m going up on deck, to see what is happening.

I’ll try to bring back word to you.’ He hastened from the room.

The Jamaillian ships drew ever closer, spreading out as they came.

Their obvious strategy was to bar his way south and surround him.

The ships on the wings of the formation had picked up their speed.

If he was going to flee, he must turn tail soon, before the Jamaillians could close their net.

This was no time for talk, but the liveship spoke anyway.

‘Kennit. You cannot question my loyalty to you. But my serpents grow weary. They need food and rest. More than anything else, they need me to lead them home soon.’

‘Of course they do.’ Kennit heard the haste in his own voice and tried to change his tone.

‘Believe me, sweet sea lady, your concerns are my own. We, you and I, shall see them safely home. I shall give you the time you have asked me to give you, that you may watch over them. Immediately after this.’

One of the smaller ships separated from the fleet and came on.

No doubt, it would hail them soon. Kennit needed to be ready, not engaged in conversation.

The opportunity for complete victory was as large as the danger of complete failure.

If the serpents did not help him, his three ships stood small chance against such a fleet.

‘What do you ask of us?’ Vivacia asked wearily.

Kennit did not like the sound of that. He tried to change it.

‘We will ask them to subdue this fleet for us. It would take little effort from them. Their presence alone may be enough to persuade the ships to surrender. Once we show the Jamaillians that we have the Satrap, I suspect we’ll gain their full co-operation.

Then the serpents would escort us as we journey to Jamaillia City, in a show of force.

Once the Satrap and his nobles have conceded to the terms of our treaty, why then, we will be free to follow our hearts.

I will summon every vessel at my command.

We will protect and guide the serpents on their journey home. ’

Vivacia’s face had grown graver as he spoke.

Desperation came into her eyes as she slowly shook her head.

‘Kennit. Bolt in her rashness made you offers that we cannot keep. Forgive me, but it is so. The serpents do not have that sort of time. Their lives begin to dwindle within them. We must go soon. Tomorrow, if we can.’

‘Tomorrow?’ Kennit suddenly felt as if the deck were falling away from him.

‘Impossible. I would have to let the Satrap go, release him to his own ships, and then flee like a dog with its tail between its legs. Vivacia, it would destroy all we have worked for, just when our goal is within our grasp.’

‘I could ask the serpents to help you this last time. After the fleet concedes to you, you could take the Satrap onto the Marietta . Have the Motley carry the word to Divvytown, and have it disperse from there that all your ships are to join you on your journey south. That would be as impressive as weary and dying serpents.’ She stopped herself as if she heard the sarcasm that had crept into her voice.

‘Let Wintrow and Althea take me north, with my serpents. They could stay with me as I keep watch over the cocoons, freeing you to firm your kingship. I vow I would return to you by high summer, Kennit.’

She spoke her treachery aloud to him. Here, at the pinnacle of his need for her, she would leave him, to return to her Bingtown family.

He cursed himself silently for not heeding Bolt.

He never should have brought Althea on board.

He gripped his crutch and forced calmness on himself.

The terrible plummet from dawning triumph to imminent disaster choked him.

‘I see,’ he managed to say. Behind him, the mood on the deck was jubilant.

Unaware of her betrayal, his crew exchanged rough jests as they eagerly awaited the encounter.

The ostentatious Captain Red had spread wide the news of Kennit’s negotiations.

All expected him to succeed. To fail now, so publicly, was unthinkable.

‘Help me as you can today,’ he suggested. He refused to think he begged. ‘And tomorrow will have to take care of itself.’

A strange look passed over Vivacia’s face, like anticipated pain.

She closed her wide green eyes for an instant.

When she opened them, her gaze was distant.

‘No, Kennit,’ she said softly. ‘Not unless you give me your word that tomorrow we take the serpents north. That is the price for them helping you today.’

‘Of course.’ He did not think about the lie.

She knew him too well. If he paused to consider it, she would know the falsehood.

‘You have my word, Vivacia. If it is that important to you, it is important to me as well.’ Tomorrow, as he had told her, would have to take care of itself.

He would deal with the consequences then.

He watched the single ship separate itself from the Jamaillian fleet and come towards him.

Soon it would be within hailing distance.

‘Can you see anything?’ Jek asked.

Althea, her forehead pressed to the porthole, did not answer.

This tiny, expensive window had been a major indulgence from her father.

The rest of her room had changed, but she could not touch this without thinking of him.

What would her father think of her now? She burned with shame.

This was her family’s ship, and here she was, hiding belowdecks while a pirate negotiated from her deck.

‘What is going on out there?’ she wondered aloud. ‘What is he saying to them?’

The door opened and Wintrow entered, cheeks red from the wind.

He began speaking immediately. ‘The Jamaillians challenged our passage. Kennit called himself King of the Pirate Isles and demanded they give way. They refused. He returned that he had the Satrap aboard and that the Satrapy had recognized him as the legitimate King of the Pirate Isles. They scoffed at him, saying the Satrap was dead. Kennit replied that the Satrap was very much alive, and that he was taking him to Jamaillia to restore him to his throne. They demanded proof. He shouted back that the proof they would get, they would not like. Then they offered to let him leave if he first surrendered the Satrap to them. He replied he was not a fool. Now the Jamaillian negotiating ship has pulled back. Kennit has said they may have time to think, but warns them to stand where they are. All wait to see who will make the next move.’

‘Waiting. More waiting,’ Althea ground out the word. ‘Surely he won’t sit still and wait while they surround us. The only logical course is to flee.’ Then she stared at the Satrap. ‘This is true, what Kennit says? You have recognized him as king? How could you be so stupid?’

‘It’s complicated,’ Malta flung back at her while the indignant Satrap glared. ‘He would have been more stupid to refuse.’ In a lower voice, she added, ‘We took our only chance at survival. But I don’t expect you to understand that.’

‘How could I?’ Althea retorted. ‘I still don’t know how you even came to be here, let alone with the Satrap of Jamaillia.’ She took a breath. She evened her tone. ‘As long as we are stuck here and must wait, why don’t you tell me how you came to be here. How did you leave Bingtown at all?’