Deadhouse Landing полностью

Thankfully, the Ruse sea-mages present among the Napan vessels declined to raise their Warrens against her directly; it seemed they were too busy deflecting the Intemperate whenever it veered too closely to any one of their ships.

Between the Insufferable’s massed barrages and the threat of the conflagration that was the Intemperate, the surviving Malazan vessels worked to free themselves of the closing jaws of the Cawnese defences and the Napan fleet.

*   *   *

League after league of empty sea passed beneath the Twisted’s freshly tarred hull. Their lead on the Just Cause widened. Choss now came to Cartheron’s side. A worried frown crimped the big man’s thick brows. He cleared his throat, hesitant, saying, ‘You realize you’re leading them straight to Malaz…’

Cartheron closed his eyes, nodding. Yes, yes. ‘I’d hoped to have lost them by now.’

The soldier – an ex-Napan colonel – raised his brows. ‘Well…?’

Cartheron sighed, turned to Brendan. ‘Sou’-east.’

The sailing master eased a wary breath between clenched lips. ‘We’ll lose headway.’

Cartheron shot Choss a told-you-so look; the man answered with a shrug that said they had no choice in the matter.

South to sou’-east, Cartheron reflected. This could suggest a curving retreat for distant Kartool. Let them chew on that – if they could shake them.

The Twisted groaned and creaked about them now in far heavier swells. A crossing to Kartool was no timid strike for Malaz; deep ocean lay before them where waves could build taller than their masts.

Cartheron cast a wary eye to their stern; the Just Cause pursued, her Napan-blue sails peeping just above the white-capped crests. If they could pull ahead far enough to lose sight of her, then they could strike a more southerly course …

The explosive crack of wood yanked his gaze to the bows in time to watch the jibs collapsing in a heap of canvas and shattered wood, shrouding the bow. A scream sounded. He ran to join the marines, who were already digging through the wreckage.

They pulled Clena clear. She lay cradling her arm, panting her pain. Hawl gently examined it. ‘Broken,’ she told Cartheron.

‘What was it?’ he asked. Hawl shook her head; she didn’t know.

‘Get those sails up!’ Brendan barked from the stern.

Cartheron shot a glance to the rear. They were losing priceless headway. There was only one thing for it … He turned to Hawl.

She sensed his regard and raised her eyes to him. Her jaws worked as she slid her dark gaze to the stern. ‘If they have a sea-mage…’ she warned him.

Cartheron shared her worry. The Just Cause might have a Napan sea-mage, in which case he or she might know Hawl, or recognize her Warren-aspect.

He gave her a curt nod. ‘Do it.’

She straightened from Clena. ‘Very well. Let no one interfere. This could get messy.’ She headed for the mid-deck, pushing up her sleeves as she went.

Cartheron glanced about; Dujek and Jack were organizing the marines into teams on tackle they’d thrown up to raise the two intact jib spars.

Torbal came to him. He held an old wooden cat-block in his hands. ‘Was it a boom?’ Cartheron asked. The sailor just handed over the block, which came apart in Cartheron’s hands – split.

‘Is it rotten?’ the sailor asked; his gaze was on the near-unconscious Clena.

Cartheron examined the split then shook his head. ‘No. Just old and worn. Should’ve been replaced before we set out. I’m so very sorry…’ The sailor just shrugged. ‘Get her below decks.’

He turned to Hawl; she’d positioned herself at the base of the main-mast, facing forward, her skirts arranged over her crossed legs. Cartheron would’ve nodded his encouragement, but the woman was already far into raising Ruse – her open-eyed stare held that unseeing thousand-yard gaze.

The vessel lurched beneath everyone’s feet; it was as if the hull had scraped over a sandbar, and Hawl cursed, biting her lip and drawing blood. ‘There’s some kind of powerful spirit on board,’ she gasped through clenched lips.

‘That nacht thing – the mage’s familiar.’

Hawl’s teeth were set. ‘Or the other way round. Damned strong bastard.’

‘Is it—’ Hawl snapped up a hand for silence and Cartheron swallowed all questions. The raised hand slowly clenched to a fist, whitening, then relaxed and fell, trembling.

Hawl eased out her breath. ‘There. It was resisting … but it has stood aside. Good thing too – I’d hate to think of what it could do.’

‘What’s the damned thing doing here?’ Cartheron asked.

‘Under orders to make sure we don’t just take off with the ship, is my guess.’

‘Oh, come now,’ Cartheron scoffed.

Hawl simply waved him off. ‘I’m busy.’

Cartheron offered a mock salute and backed away to join Brendan. He asked, ‘What’s the last sighting?’

‘Closing,’ the sailing master offered laconically.

‘The repairs?’

Brendan raised his chin to examine the bows, then shook his head in despair. ‘Looks like a damned fire in a cathouse.’

‘Too many marines and not enough sailors.’