Caterina shrugged. "I'm your prisoner now, my lord. It's not like you'd have to seduce me, or anything, if you wanted to... you know... take advantage of me..."

A little alarmed, Dirk studied her for a moment. Apparently, Caterina's adventure was not going to be complete without a little romance. She had shifted slightly on the bunk so her more than ample cleavage was all he could see when he looked down at her. And she was smiling at him. Dirk had a bad feeling she was trying to be alluring.

"I have to go," he said brusquely.

"When will you be back?"

"I don't know."

"Did you want me to wait up for you?"

Dirk stared at her, shaking his head in despair. "No."

Caterina settled herself back onto the bunk. She looked far too comfortable for his liking. "I'll probably wait up anyway. Then you can tell me all about your day when you get back."

Dirk fled the cabin, still cursing under his breath as he slammed the door behind him and went to meet with Kirsh and the fleet captains to discuss the invasion of Mil.

Chapter 22.

Kirsh still suspected that Dirk had tricked him into letting Tia Veran go free so she could kidnap Misha and draw them into an ambush. The notion refused to go away. Dirk denied it, of course, and Kirsh couldn't bring the matter to his father's attention without implicating himself in the affair, so he had no choice but to live with the uncertainty that went with his guilt, hoping against hope that he was wrong.

The fleet slowed as they reached Daven Isle, the ships reducing their sail and tacking against the wind as they prepared to enter the Bandera Straits. The small rocky island was home to so many roosting birds the cliffs were stained white with their droppings. It was still some distance away, but the faint screeching from its thousands of winged residents drifted clearly across the water. Here the pirates awaited their prey, catching Senetian traders as they readied themselves for the tricky currents and fickle winds of the narrow Straits. With smaller, more maneuverable craft, their intimate knowledge of the hidden rocks around Daven Isle, and their ability to flee into the Spakan River delta, the pirates were unstoppable.

But not today, Kirsh mused as Dirk came to stand beside him on the foredeck. There was no sign of any pirate ships in the Straits. He thought that meant they were still in the bay farther upriver, beyond the delta. At least he hoped they were. Once his fleet entered the delta, there would be no escape for thepirates.

"Captain Clegg was wondering if we should heave to and wait for second sunrise tomorrow before we proceed," he remarked to Dirk.

"I'd recommend waiting," Dirk advised. "The instructions we have refer quite specifically to the position of the second sun. I don't think we should tackle the delta with only the first sun to light our way."

Although not happy about the need to wait, Kirsh nodded in agreement. Since hearing the instructions the G.o.ddess had given Marqel, he had suspected they could only safely be followed during the day. As for the other implications of his beloved now being the High Priestess of the Shadowdancers and the Voice of the G.o.ddess-he was trying very hard not to think about them at all.

"I think I'll have the Hand of Fate and the Azure take up position near the entrance to the delta anyway," he decided. "I don't want any pirate ships slipping by us before second sunrise tomorrow."

Dirk glanced back at the two following ships and the half-dozen more spread out behind them. "Are you planning to take all these ships through the delta? The bay of Mil isn't that big, you know. It's going to get awfully crowded in there, and you'll have precious little room to maneuver if you need it."

"I'm glad you brought that up," Kirsh told him. "We need to discuss how we're going to attack their defenses."

"What defenses?" Dirk scoffed. "It's a village smaller than Tolace, Kirsh."

"So you keep telling me," he said, his tone leaving no doubt about how unreliable he considered that information. "I can't believe they have no defenses at all."

"Up until now, the delta has been all the protection they needed."

Kirsh was still not sure he believed Dirk. He had a sneaking suspicion he was sailing into a trap.

Would Mil prove to be as defenseless as Dirk promised? Or was there a whole army hiding in there, waiting to wipe out his invasion force? Was that why Dirk was advising him not to take all his ships through the delta? Was he trying to help, or was he trying to even the odds a little for his friends?

"How many fighting men do they have?"

"I couldn't really say," Dirk shrugged.

"You can't or you won't?"

"I can't," Dirk a.s.sured him. "There are simply too many variables, Kirsh. Their ships may not be in port, which will significantly reduce the number of men they can throw into a fight. Or they may have gotten word we were heading for the delta and fled the settlement."

"How could they know something like that?"

Dirk shook his head. He seemed amused. "Look around you, Kirsh. You don't think you can sail out of Avacas with a fleet this large without somebody working out where it's headed, do you? Senet isn't at war. The only logical place a fleet this big could be heading is Mil. And, whether you like it or not, there are plenty of Dhevynian sympathizers in Senet who could have sent them word."

"Including you?"

"Sure," he agreed. "I sent word to the Baenlanders to warn diem of the attack. That's why they hired an a.s.sa.s.sin to come after me. Out of grat.i.tude."

"It could have been a feint. An attack simply to convince us you really had betrayed them."

Dirk looked at him for a moment and then shook his head in amazement. "Have you ever used a crossbow, Kirsh?""Yes."

"And you honestly believe I arranged to have a Brotherhood a.s.sa.s.sin nick my ear, just to make it look good?"

Kirsh looked away, annoyed by Dirk's amus.e.m.e.nt. Admittedly, the chance of such a thing was remote, and it would make Dirk courageous beyond imagining if it were true. What had he heard Belagren say once? When all other explanations had been discarded, the one left, no matter how unlikely, was probably the truth. Which meant Dirk had betrayed the Baenlanders and joined the Shadowdancers because he really had seen the light, and not for a more sinister reason. But Kirsh wouldn't know for certain until they sailed through the delta. Until then, a core of distrust lay heavy in his stomach, like the remnants of a bad meal.

"Let's a.s.sume the worst, then," he said, pushing away his irritation to concentrate on the problem at hand. "If their ships are in port, how many men do we face?"

"Men? More than a hundred, maybe two hundred. Not all their ships berth in Mil, though. Quite a few simply call in every now and then, to bring supplies and news. Not every ship sailing the delta is crewed by brigands, Kirsh."

"If they're in Mil when I get there, that's exactly what they are, Dirk."

"Then be prepared to face every man, woman and child in the settlement who can pick up a weapon. They won't give in easily."

"What about escape routes? Can they flee upriver?"

"Some of them might try, but it will only mean they'll take a little longer to die. There's nothing upriver but barren lava flows."

"Where are they likely to be holding Misha?"

"Either down in the village or up at Johan's house."

"What sort of fortifications does the house have?"

Dirk smiled. "Ah... now that's going to be a real challenge. There'll probably be at least two, maybe as many as three women in there protecting it, and then there's that nasty, wide-open veranda that goes all the way around. Are you sure you have enough men to handle it, Kirsh?"

"If you're going to be so cynical about this, Dirk, why did you bother coming?"

Dirk leaned on the railing and studied the horizon thoughtfully. "I wasn't given a choice, remember?"

"You could at least pretend to have some enthusiasm for the task."

"I'm br.i.m.m.i.n.g with enthusiasm, Kirsh," Dirk said. "But the word overfill leaps to mind. You're taking a thousand men into battle to round up a couple of hundred women and children. It's not that I lack enthusiasm for your cause. I'm simply overwhelmed by your Senetian tendency toward excess."

"Then why do I get the feeling you're always laughing at us, Dirk?"

"I don't know," his cousin shrugged. "Maybe it's because deep down, even you think your methods are laughable sometimes, and if you think that, then you a.s.sume everybody else must think the same."

Kirsh had been acquainted with Dirk long enough to know better than to get into an argument with him about... anything. He could twist things around worse than a Tribunal Advocate, but somehow, Kirsh never seemed to learn.

"When we land tomorrow, you're not to go ash.o.r.e until I tell you it's safe."

"I'm touched by your concern.""I'm concerned you'll have a change of heart when the killing begins."

"It won't be a change of heart, Kirsh. You know quite well how I feel about needless killing."

"I abhor needless bloodshed as much as you do, Dirk," Kirsh reminded him. "It's in the definition of needless that we differ."

"A few hundred corpses aren't going to bring Misha back if he's already dead," Dirk pointed out.

"If Misha is dead, Dirk, you won't need to count the corpses. I'll reduce Mil, and everyone in it, to ashes."

When Dirk didn't reply, he turned to look out over the blood-red sea.

"You should go below and get some rest. And get rid of that girl for the night. I don't want you running us aground tomorrow when we enter the delta because you're too tired to concentrate on the route."

Dirk smiled ruefully. "I'll send Caterina to your cabin then, shall I? She'd probably get a bigger thrill out of being your prisoner than mine, anyway."

"What are you talking about?"

"She's become quite enchanted with the whole hostage thing," Dirk explained, turning his back on the horizon and crossing his arms, as if he were suddenly chilled. "And I think she's more than a little disappointed I'm not living up to my reputation as the Butcher of Elcast. Caterina has four sisters at home who are-she a.s.sures me-going to be green with envy she got to have such a grand adventure and they missed out. But I'm afraid that other than helping the cook cut up a few onions, her adventure's not turning out to be quite as thrilling as she'd hoped." He shook his head with despair.

"She's driving me insane, actually."

Dirk's obvious discomfort gave Kirsh a degree of malicious satisfaction. "You brought her on board, Dirk. Don't look to me for sympathy."

"I don't expect sympathy from you, Kirsh," Dirk said, looking at him with those inscrutable metal-gray eyes. "What I look to you for is that sense of n.o.bility you like to think you're so famous for."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"The Baenlands, Kirsh. Tomorrow, when we reach Mil, before you order scores of innocent women and children put to the sword just because you're p.i.s.sed off about your brother being kidnapped, remember you're the one who likes to think he has honor."

Dirk didn't wait for his reply. He pushed off the rail and headed back toward the stern, leaving Kirsh staring after him, wondering how, with a few well-chosen words and not a drop of blood spilled yet, Dirk Provin could make him feel like the butcher.

Chapter 23.

The Makuan had already left Mil the day before, but the Orlando was still taking on evacuees when the word came from the lookouts in the Straits that the Lion of Senet's fleet was heaved to at the entrance to the delta. The news. .h.i.t Eryk with almost physical pain. There was no doubt in anyone's mind any longer: Dirk Provin had betrayed them and was leading their enemies into the Baenlands.

There were several hurried meetings when the news arrived, then Dal Falstov climbed onto the foredeck to address the people crowded onto the Orlando's deck. He explained to them there was nochance of slipping past the Senetian ships now, and they would all have to disembark and head for the caves surrounding Mil, where he hoped they could hide until the attack was over. It had taken nearly all day to load the pa.s.sengers. It took the best part of the night to disembark them.

Exhausted and close to collapse, Eryk sought his bunk in the single-men's bunkhouse just on second sunrise. He hoped to get a few hours' sleep before the attack began, but he had to suffer the accusing stares of the other sailors, who sat around the bunks in small groups, talking quietly among themselves, as he made his way to his bed. Eryk lay down with his face to the wall and tried not to listen to the conversations going on around him. It was impossible. Every third word he heard seemed to be "Dirk Provin," and most of the words in between were curses.

"Provin's not so smart," one of the sailors scoffed, loud enough (perhaps deliberately) for Eryk to hear. "It's not much of a surprise attack when you heave to under the very noses of our lookouts."

"Aye," another man agreed. "If he was half as smart as he thinks he is, he'd have sailed straight through the delta, instead of giving us a whole night's warning they were coming."

"You gonna stay and fight?" a third sailor asked.

"Maybe," the first man replied. "Cap'n Falstov seems to think we'd be better off fleeing to the caves, but I don't like the idea of running away. Bring 'em on, I say!"

"Well, I'm going to the caves," the second man announced. "My sister and her two little girls will be hiding up there and, with my brother-in-law on the Makuan, I ain't leaving 'em to be butchered by the Senetians."

The first man chuckled. "I kinda like the idea of the Senetians coming all this way and finding nothing to kill."

"I tell you one thing, though," the third man said. "If I see that Provin p.r.i.c.k anywhere about and can get a clean shot at him, I'll take it. Even if it means dying afterward..."

Eryk covered his ears with his hands and tried helplessly to shut out the sailors' voices. Sleep was a long time coming.

The attack, when it finally came, happened close to midday. The Senetian ships had negotiated the delta flawlessly, but they'd been very careful as they made their way upriver, which had given the Baenlanders more than enough time to flee the settlement. There were less than a hundred men left when the Tsarina heaved to in the bay, and every one of them was a volunteer, their mission simply to hara.s.s the Senetians long enough to give the last of the villagers time to make it to the caves.

Eryk had volunteered along with most of the crew of the Orlando. If Dirk was truly part of the invasion fleet, he had a much better chance of finding him if he stayed near the water, rather than hiding up in the caves above the settlement. From his place of concealment behind a cl.u.s.ter of rocks near the beach, he watched the Senetian crews hauling down the sails, trying to spot Dirk, but he could not see him anywhere. Eryk's heart thumped loudly in his chest as he watched the other ships sail into the bay behind the Tsarina. He had never been in a battle before.

While they were still lowering the longboats, archers on the deck of the Tsarina fired burning arrows into the furled sails of the Orlando. There was n.o.body on board, but the sight of their ship in flames infuriated the sailors around Eryk. They were surprisingly well disciplined, however. They had orders not to attack until the Senetians made landfall, and no man broke ranks, despite the unhappy muttering that ran through them. As the first wave of soldiers reached the beach, more ships appeared through the delta. There seemed to be no end to them. Eryk watched them fill the small bay with a growing sense of dread.Eryk wasn't sure who gave the order to attack, but it seemed that one moment they were hiding behind the rocks, the next moment the Baenlanders were running down the beach, screaming at the top of their lungs, charging the invaders. Fear of what would happen if he were left behind-as much as a desire to join the fight-spurred Eryk into following them. Arrows whistled overhead as the pirates'

hidden archers picked off individual targets, but they were only moderately successful. The Senetians carried shields and used them to protect each other, so most of the arrows finished up harmlessly embedded in the black sand as they bounced off metal shields.

Despite the fact that he was brandishing a sword and yelling like a berserker, Eryk was largely ignored by the soldiers of both sides. He must have appeared too insignificant to bother with. Several Senetians pushed him out of the way in their haste to engage a more worthy foe. Infuriated, Eryk turned on the next man who brushed him aside, but he could not bring himself to strike the man's exposed back as he dueled with a Baenlander. A few moments of vicious sparring and the pirate ran the Senetian through. Still clutching his unblooded sword, Eryk stared at the man as he fell.

"Thanks for nothing, half-wit!" the Baenlander snarled as he pushed Eryk out of the way on his quest to seek out another opponent.

Eryk stumbled and fell onto the sand. He picked himself up and looked around, lost, frightened and alone in a sea of destruction and death. Smoke from the burning Orlando drifted over the beach. His eyes watered. The war cries, the yelling, the clash of metal on metal, the death and the overwhelming smell of blood smothered his senses until he was almost paralyzed by it.

Although Eryk didn't really notice, for a time the Baenlanders seemed to prevail. Their unexpectedly b.l.o.o.d.y response to the first wave of Senetians had driven the enemy back almost to the waterline. But the enemy was too numerous for their minor victory to be anything but a temporary respite.

Eryk jumped with fright when he heard Captain Falstov shouting to the sailors to regroup. The next wave of invaders was almost at the beach, and the Baenlanders were beginning to tire. Another flight of arrows darkened the sky overhead as Eryk turned to watch the boats nearing the sh.o.r.e. Somebody shoved him from behind, and he stumbled to the black sand once more, his eyes fixed on the second sortie. These were not Senetians. They wore the royal blue-and-silver livery of Dhevyn and, standing in the prow of the lead boat, was a figure Eryk knew very well.

"Prince Kirsh?" he cried, not realizing he spoke aloud.

Kirshov stood proud and tall, as if impervious to the arrows of the Baenlanders skittering off the shields of the Guardsmen. Then the longboats reached the beach and the Queen's Guard, with Kirsh in the lead, splashed through the shallows to join the fray.

Eryk barely noticed the battle intensify around him. Prince Kirsh was here, the man who had helped Dirk save him from the butcher's son on Elcast. Kirsh had always been good to Eryk, he recalled. He had always treated him like a sort of lovable stray puppy-not too bright, but not to be treated unkindly. Warm memories of Avacas, most of them filtered through the veil of Eryk's fear and loneliness, endowed Kirshov Latanya with an aura of shining hope. Here was someone who could help him. Here was someone he trusted, Lord Dirk's best friend.