Chapter Twenty-Two

The sea beyond Paestum was aswarm with ships, from transports converted from merchant ships to hopefully ocean-worthy ferries and deep-water fishing boats without their nets to, Hal was glad to see, the Galgorm Adventurer. He was even more pleased to find that someone—he suspected Lord Cantabri—had arranged for it to be the Eleventh's transport.

This operation had been in the planning for some time—the Adventurer's upper troopdeck had been hastily converted, with a raised and arched topdeck, to provide more dragon shelters.

As they were loading the beasts, trying to avoid being maimed by a dragon tail or drowned by being kicked off the quay by one of the fairly unhappy monsters, the rumor ran around that this was the beginnings of a great operation, to attack behind the northern Roche lines, and smash through to the capital.

"Which means codswallop," Farren said. "All we need now is to be gifted with winter gear, and I'll know for surely-certain we're goin' south.

"Friggin' military always thinks it can think, when by now it oughta know better. I could cast a little witchy pissyanty spell and find out where we're going, so you know damn-dast well the Roche wizards are already laying in wait."

Hal thought of telling him to button it, that his guess was far too close, but that would've only made the tale run faster.

" Damned fine thing," Saslic said dryly, looking out over the fleet, "that we're able to move in such secrecy. Thankin' the gods there aren't any Roche spies over there on the waterfront, spitting in the water and taking notes."

"Anybody else want to contribute?" Hal said.

"I think not," Sir Loren drawled. "I'm sure we're just off to the homeland for our holidays."

The ships, loosely gathered into lines, sailed north until they were out of sight of land, then swung west down the Chicor Straits, as had the Adventurer in its masking maneuvers before turning toward Black Island.

Hal didn't think it would do much good to conceal the operation from the Roche.

Mynta Gart spent a lot of time on deck, when she wasn't tending her new dragon, and Hal asked her if a seaman like her didn't like being below decks.

"Doesn't matter much to me," she said. "And I didn't notice I was above decks as much as you say. Perhaps I'm worried about the weather."

Hal lifted an eyebrow.

"This is damned late in the year to be sailing toward the open ocean,"

she said. "Winter storms're coming, and that bodes no good for the spit kits we've got around us.

"I can only hope we've got weather luck. Or some damned powerful wizards casting spells in the flagship."

Perhaps so, for no gales tore down on the fleet before it turned north again, and found a sheltered anchorage behind a long, narrow island, the Deraine port of Brouwer, where another great array lay waiting.

Some of these ships were brand new, others converted to merchantmen, and they were packed with troops, mostly new formations raised in Deraine.

Now, Hal thought, we should put out to sea as quickly as possible, before the tales have time to spread.

But they sat at anchor, waiting.

Hal's soldiers began grumbling, and so he put Serjeant Te to work on them, running them around and around the decks, up and down ropes, keeping them fit, with little time to get bored.

He flew off two three-dragon patrols each morning and night, and that kept his fliers from getting bored.

And they waited.

A royal messenger was rowed out to the Adventurer, with a request, from Lord Cantabri, to meet the expedition's commander, Lord Hamil, at a dinner to be held by Thom Lowess.

It seemed the taleteller had his fingers in everywhere.

It was a small, intimate gathering, at least by Lowess's standards. He'd rented a beach-front pavilion, and brought several of "his girls," including Lady Khiri Carstares.

A dozen men sipped wine in the antechamber. Hal was the lowest ranking of them all, and Lowess the only one not in uniform.

"Sir Hal," he smiled at Kailas. "At last I'll get a chance to see you in action."

"You mean you're going with us?"

"Lord Hamil has specially invited me, which pleases me no end."

However, Lowess didn't look that thrilled. Hal wondered, and thought poorly of himself for the cattiness, whether Lowess preferred concocting his tales of derring-do a bit farther from the clash of battle.

Lady Khiri spotted him, and made for him as if he were magnetized. He tried to make polite conversation, but was all too aware of Saslic, back on the Adventurer, not to mention that the gown Khiri wore was scooped low enough in front so that he could've seen the color of her toenail polish without undue effort.

"And so you'll be one of the lucky ones," she said. "Not with us, freezing our poor little heinies off, here in the north-land."

"How did you know?" was the best Hal could manage, hardly a way of dissimulating.

"Why, simply everyone knows," she said, in considerable astonishment.

"It's been the talk of the court for weeks now."

"Wonderful," Hal muttered.

"If I didn't know better, and hadn't been aboard some of the terribly crowded ships you men will be sailing on," she went on, "I'd wish that you and I might be sharing a cabin, watching for the first flying fish, and feeling the wind grow warm around us."

Hal felt a bit warm at that moment, was relieved to see Lord Cantabri beckon him over. He excused himself, joined Cantabri and the other man he was with, medium height, white-haired, distinguished and looking most regal.

"Sir Hal, I'd like to introduce you to Lord Hamil," Cantabri said.

Hal guessed, at an event like this, it would be better to bow than salute.

He evidently guessed correctly, for Hamil made a curt bow in return.

"So you're the young man on whom Lord Cantabri said we might well be depending?"

Hal fought for the proper words.

"I'd think, from what I've seen, we're more likely to be depending on him."

"A good, gentlemanly answer, sir," Lord Hamil approved, then turned to Cantabri.

"When this war first began, and the idea of men—and women—flying dragons, I was bothered by the idea, first that a measure of chivalry might be slashed from the nobility of war, and secondly, that these fliers might be less than gentlemanly warriors.

"But from what I've read of this young man, and the men and women he commands, I find that my suspicions were false.

"Indeed, to soar high over the muck and blood of the battleground might be creating a new nobility, a nobility of the air, and one which, were I beginning my military career, I might well envy and wish to join."

Neither Hal nor Cantabri found an answer to that one, although Hal tried feebly.

"I can only hope, Lord Hamil, to be worthy of your hopes."

"I'm sure you shall, lad," and Hamil smiled, and turned to another, passing lord.

"I say, Lord Devett, a word with you?"

Hal was about to say something to Cantabri, when Lowess approached them.

"Ah, the two sharpest arrows in my quiver. Are you enjoying yourselves, gentlemen?"

Hal took the moment.

"I'd be a deal happier, sir, were our expedition not on everyone's lips."

Lowess frowned.

"I know. I like it little myself. But the word has been going about for weeks. There's even been mention of a betting pool as to just what our destination is, and what I've heard mentioned is uncomfortably close to our plans.

"I suggested to Lord—to certain parties—that some replanning might be in order. He chose to disagree with me, so there appears little I can do.

"I wish there was more, since I will be sharing your fate this time."

Cantabri drained his wine glass.

"Might I ask you something, sir?" he said.

Hal noticed the slight emphasis on the sir.

"Anything within reason."

"You just said the two brightest arrows in your quiver. I'm not sure I understand."

"What I meant was quite simple. Just as I seem to have made certain people, and perhaps the nation of Deraine, aware of Sir Hal's propensity for valor, so I plan on doing the same for you as we progress to… to our eventual goal."

"I would rather not be so favored," Lord Cantabri said dryly.

"But Deraine needs heroes, sir. Don't pursue false modesty, sir," Lowess said, a bit sharply. "Heroism unnoticed, and unrewarded, does the nation little good.

"I'm afraid the burden is one you'll be forced to bear."

Cantabri sought for something to say, forced a smile and nodded.

Lowess fielded a glass from a passing servitor, and left them.

"It's nice to be in the company of a budding hero," Hal said.

"Damn, damn, damn," Cantabri growled.

"Now, what was it you were saying, Lord Cantabri," Hal mocked gently,

"about not letting the truth stand in the way of a good story, just a few days ago?"

"Damme for dooming myself with my own mouth," Cantabri grumbled.

"Now we'll both be laughing stocks, I fear."

Hal grinned, and a gong sounded. A door opened, and the guests began filtering toward the dining room.

The dinner began with a toast by Lowess:

"To our victory, and to the noblest of Deraine's warriors, gathered here tonight."

That, of course, was drunk to only by the women carefully positioned between each guest.

The next toast was by Lord Hamil:

"Confusion to our enemies."

That everyone drank to, Hal particularly, although he barely tasted the wine, since he'd been doing no drinking lately, and didn't think part of being a noble hero was throwing up on his host's linen.

The room was a marvel of old paintings and silk hangings. Four musicians, behind a screen, played softly, and a magician and two assistants worked interesting illusions that appeared, vanished, against a muslin curtain against one wall.

The illusions were of patriotic themes, great warriors, interspersed with sentimental scenes of life in Deraine. Hal wryly noticed that all these scenes were of the rich and their estates. That made sense, he thought. No one in the room, with the exception of Hal, came from a poor family.

He was seated next to Lady Khiri Carstares, who, he thought, grew prettier each time he saw her.

"I want to apologize," she said.

"For what?"

"I saw you were upset that I know about… about certain matters."

"I am," Hal admitted.

"Do I look like a Roche spy?"

"I never saw one wearing a sign yet."

She smiled.

"Maybe not you," Hal went on. "But what about that waiter who just served us this fish pancake?"

"That, you barbaric soldier, is caviar… fish eggs. With sour cream."

"Oh." Hal chewed. "I guess I like it. But us barbaric soldiers like anything that isn't trying to eat us."

"Stop trying to be clever," she said. "Leave that for Thom Lowess."

They chatted on, about almost anything and everything except the war, and Hal found Khiri a delightful conversationalist.

Of course you do, a part of his mind said coldly. She's agreeing with almost everything you say.

The next course was perfectly cooked steak in a green peppercorn sauce, followed by herb-baked potato thins, pureed spiced vegetables, a watercress and endive salad with a lemony mustard dressing, and dessert was a meringue tort. Each course was accompanied by a different wine, which, as before, Hal barely tasted.

"You're quite the abstainer, sir," she said.

"Sometimes," Hal agreed. "When I don't want a thick head the next day."

"You needn't worry about that," she said, leaning close, and glancing around to make sure no one was listening. "You won't be sailing until the winter storm the wizards have forecast has passed, and that won't be for at least four days."

Hal was brought back to reality. Again, Khiri noticed.

"I'm sorry," she almost wailed. "Should I be a total ninny, and not talk about anything?"

Hal thought of explaining, decided if she didn't understand by now, she never would.

But Khiri realized her mistake, and began asking him about the habits of his dragons. Hal, eager for the change, talked on, then caught himself, realizing he was probably beginning to sound like Dinner Bore, Category Thirteen, the Dragon Expert.

He was about to apologize, when he realized Khiri had taken off her evening slipper, and, hidden by the long tablecloth, was rubbing her soft foot up and down his inner calf, above his dress half-boot.

He found himself gently sweating, looked at Khiri, saw her smiling, delighted with the effect she was working.

He made some inane comment about one of the illusions, a soldier and his lover walking arm in arm through a swirling garden.

"You are married?" Khiri asked.

"No," Hal said.

"But you have a lover."

"Uh… well, yes." Hal was ashamed of his hesitation. "How did you know?"

"The best men always have lovers," Khiri said mournfully. "Tell me about her."

To his surprise, Hal found himself yammering on about Saslic, and Khiri seemed most interested.

Then Hal's glass was empty, and Thom Lowess was standing again.

"I thank you all for attending my gathering," he said. "Boats are at the landing below, and I suggest it's time for those who're aboard ship to leave, since the weather appears likely to change within the hour.

"The promised storm is, indeed, upon us."

Khiri walked him down to the dock, shivered as a chill wind caught her.

"You'll forgive me, Sir Hal, for not staying, but this gale is freezing my poor little marrow."

Before he could respond, she leaned close, and kissed him, her tongue darting for an instant between his lips. He reached for her, reflexively, but she pulled away with a bell-like laugh, and ran up the steps into Lowess's mansion.

Hal tasted that kiss for a long time on the ride through the choppy waters back to the Adventurer.

The storm broke as predicted that night, and the ships put out double anchors but still heaved restlessly as the rain and wind beat at them.

Hal spent most of his time, as did the fliers and handlers, making sure the dragons were as happy as they could be, feeding them tidbits of offal the ship's cooks were only too glad to get rid of.

He tried to spend his time thinking about how his fire bottles might be improved, either magically or with better material, but Khiri's face kept intruding.

Saslic asked him why he was so pensive, and he was rude to her, and apologized hastily.

She looked at him strangely, but said nothing.

* * *

Four days later, the storm ended, and the sky was a wintry blue, the seas calm as a lake.

Signal flags went slatting up and down masts, and anchors were weighed, and slowly, laboriously, the great fleet made its way out into the open sea.

Hal was standing next to Sir Loren, Vad Feccia and Mynta Gart, awestruck at the vast number of ships, and Loren pointed.

"Look."

Half a dozen warships, sleek three-masters, bulwarks heavy with infantry, their rams, beaks, catapults menacing, boiled past under full sail, banners streaming.

Gart stared after them, eyes shining.

"Shows what a damned fool you were, coming to the dragons, when you could be mate of one of them now, coverin' yourself with glory," Vad Feccia said, with more than a bit of a senseless sneer.

Gart looked him up and down, but said nothing.

Hal determined that Feccia would be chosen to supervise some detail, preferably involving dragon shit.

Winds rose, and another storm threatened. Hal saw sailors praying in the small niche behind the Adventurer's mainmast, guessed that seamen aboard the countless smaller ships would be praying even harder.

But the wind blew out before dawn, and once again the fleet sailed on.

Hal took his dragons up daily, staying close to the convoy, under orders not to fly south of the ships, toward land. The last headlands of Deraine fell away to their stern, and Sagene's coastline was, at most, a dim blur they never closed on.

Then the ships turned south, and even the thickest soldier realized they weren't about to campaign in the frozen north.

Morale and mood improved steadily.

They turned a bit closer to land, and twenty Sagene ships, plus escorts, joined the convoy. They were cheered by the Deraine soldiers and sailors, gave back huzzahs in return. The fleet was at full strength.

Hal was on the foredeck at night, and one of the watch officers paced back and forth a few yards away.

Something to the landward caught his eye, and he asked to borrow the sailor's glass.

A darker bulk showed—Sagene. He stared at it, then saw a flare of light grow, start blinking.

"What's that?" he asked the officer. The man took the glass, scanned.

"Shit," he muttered.

"What is it?" Hal asked. The officer passed the glass back. The blinking light flashed again, then died.

"Two fingers to starboard," the sailor said, and Hal swung his gaze.

Another light came to life, blinked.

"Navigation beacons?" Hal guessed.

"The charts show none," the sailor said. "More likely signal beacons."

"Signaling what?" Hal asked, then caught it. "Oh."

"You have it," the sailor said grimly, and hurried to the captain's cabin to report they were being tracked.

Storm fairly leapt into the air, and honked in glee. None of the dragons liked being aboard ship. Hal wondered about that—how they could sail like boats, but despise these wooden creations, guessed it might be the stink of men, or perhaps the unnatural swaying as the ship rolled.

He sent Storm high, two other dragons climbing behind him, swooping in pure pleasure.

The wind was from the west-south-west, and almost warm, even here, a thousand feet above the water.

Hal scented a different wind—the wind of battle.

* * *

Sailors put out long trotlines, and pulled fish in, fish multicolored and unknown to any of the men and women of Deraine.

The cooks set braziers on deck, and fried the fish, basting them in butter, and drenched them with hoarded lemons from Sagene. Hal thought he had eaten a record number of the crispy small delicacies, then saw Farren Mariah, still inhaling, two bites per fish, no more, not concerning himself with bones, crunching them like he was a beast.

"I'm catchin' up on a d'prived childhood," Mariah explained.

"You mean depraved," Saslic suggested.

"That too."

The dragons also liked the fish—fed to them raw, in bushel baskets.

Signal flags from the flagship went to the Adventurer, and Hal took half his flight aloft, flew east obeying the orders from Lord Hamil.

Great headlands rose from the sea, the ocean smashing high against them, empty bluffs that, according to his map, marked the farthest westering bit of Sagene.

Hal looked back, saw the fleet slowly turning west, following the coast toward Roche.

He saw something and, against orders, motioned Saslic to follow him down.

Storm's wings folded, and the dragon dove until Hal pulled the reins back.

The monster flared his wings, came level, and the headland's flat plateau was only a few hundred feet below.

Hal saw half a dozen tents, and something he couldn't quite make out.

Then he saw it clear—a large mirror, gimbal mounted. There were half a dozen men around it, some looking out to sea.

Then smoke flared, and a small fire grew below the mirror.

It moved, beginning to flash rapidly, in some sort of code, pointed east.

Hal squinted through the haze, thought he saw an answering blink.

He hoped this was an unmarked signal post of Sagene, but suspected far differently.

Hal waved to Saslic, and turned, at full speed, back toward the fleet.

A ship's boat took Hal to the fleet's flagship, a huge warship with holystoned decks and brightwork everywhere. Barefoot sailors in spotless uniform scurried here and there, as busy as housemaids, under the shouted orders of boatswains.

Hal saw Thom Lowess on the poop deck, nodded to him, ignored his obvious curiosity.

He was escorted to the enormous cabin of Lord Hamil. Hal thought it almost as large as a dragon pen.

They reported what they'd seen on the headlands to Hamil, Cantabri, two Sagene noblemen and staff officers.

Hamil said calmly, "I like this news but little."

Lord Cantabri nodded grimly, but said nothing.

Hamil got up, paced.

"So we must assume we've been seen… I'd guess those mirror-men could be Sagene traitors."

One of the Sagene nobles growled in anger, but made no comment.

"Or," Hamil went on, "more likely, long-range penetration agents from Roche.

"In either case, that means we've been seen by the enemy."

He looked worried. Hal couldn't understand—the fleet, and its design, had been known to everyone, including the gods on high, since before they sailed from Paestum.

Why should this latest be an astonishment?

But he held his tongue.

"Ships of the Roche fleet might be readying to sail against us," the other Sagene nobleman said worriedly.

Hamil nodded agreement.

"Very well, Sir Hal," Hamil said. "I'll notify the other three dragon flight commanders, and from now on you'll mount constant patrols to the east and north as we sail on toward Roche.

"You must be totally alert, watching especially for any unknown ships.

"From now on, as Lord Cantabri suggested to me back in Deraine, our fate could well be in your hands."