Assail (Malazan Empire, #6)(106)

Reuth already had a shaded eye on the waterline of the foremost rocks where the honey glow of the false dawn shone across the narrows. He was alarmed; the waters were rising faster than he’d anticipated. He caught his uncle’s gaze. Tulan raised a brow in an unspoken question. Reuth nodded. Tulan leaned against the stern railing, shouted: ‘Lower oars! Full speed.’

Storval echoed the orders.

The oars slapped the waves to either side of the narrow galley and they shot ahead with such power that Reuth had to take a backward step. Gren shot him a grin, but not a superior one; the man was actually grinning with a kind of savage anticipation. Reuth was fascinated to see him wrapping one of his arms in a rope attached to the tiller.

‘Better tie yourself off there, lad,’ the veteran warned.

Reuth started, surprised, then peered around: he found a line and wrapped it about his waist, then secured himself to the side.

‘Going to see us through, hey, lad?’ Gren observed.

Reuth felt his cheeks heat.

Gren drew a bone-handled knife from his side and slammed it into the tiller close to the rope.

‘No – Tulan’s in charge. What’s the knife for?’

‘In case we capsize, lad, an’ I have to cut m’self free. Now, none of this talk of your uncle. We’re Mare sailors, you ’n’ I. These Korelri Chosen, what do they know of Ruse? Nothing. In pointa fact, they hate the sea. But between you ’n’ me – you have the Ruse-sense, lad. I seen it.’

Reuth blinked at the burly fellow. ‘You’ve seen it?’

Gren winked. ‘Oh, aye. When they look out over the water they scowl and glance away. They’re frightened. But when you watch the sea, you smile. That’s why they don’t like you, lad … you’re not scared of the sea.’

Reuth stared, speechless. Such an idea had never occurred to him.

‘Full speed I said, damn you!’ Tulan shouted again. He glanced back to Reuth then glared past him, his face darkening. ‘Damned shadows sneaking in after us!’

Reuth glanced back: numerous ships were under way, all sweeping into line along their wake. The first was the local pirate vessel. He thought them foolish to come chasing in – their galley had far too little freeboard for the manoeuvring that would be needed here.

‘Over ten ships, lad!’ Gren laughed. ‘There’s a compliment. They know we’re Mare sailors, and this is a Mare vessel. If any sailor can thread this needle, it’s us!’

Tulan shot Reuth a questioning glance, which he answered with a nod. He turned to Gren: ‘Hug the starboard shore as we come in the mouth. Be ready to swing full to port.’

‘Aye.’

Tulan nodded at this, reassured, and returned to facing the bows.

The roar of churning waters swelled. In the unruly yawing and bucking of the galley, Reuth felt the currents beneath them swirling and hammering as the incoming high tide wrestled with the narrows’ outflow. The first of the rocks passed as dark blotches in the channel – submerged now, but still lurking tall enough to snatch a keel. Already Reuth’s face was chill and wet from the spray suspended in the gusting winds that howled down the constricting cliffs of the narrows.

Gren stood hunched over the tiller arm, his bare feet splayed wide. ‘You do what you have to do, lad,’ he urged, winking.

Reuth swallowed hard and drew a hand down his face to wipe away the spray. ‘Chase speed,’ he shouted.

‘Chase speed!’ Tulan immediately bellowed, hands to mouth.

‘Chase speed!’ Reuth barely heard Storval echoing. He did notice that the first mate no longer paced the walk. Now he stood with an arm round the mast, probably gripping a line.

Gren had lost something of his grin now as he studied the oars. Reuth spared a glance and saw right away that they were far from the ideal unison in their slashing dip and rise. He recognized the interference of the inexperienced swordsmen – regrettable, but necessary for power. He’d have to take it into account in his estimates. ‘Ramming speed,’ he called.

‘Ramming speed!’ Tulan bellowed.

The Lady’s Luck surged ahead, rocking Reuth on his feet. They shot between the first of the black jagged teeth of the Guardian Rocks. The foaming slew of waves danced about them. One fat swell of webbed olive-green water rose taller than their side. Reuth now kept his vision far ahead of their position. ‘Ready on the turn,’ he warned.

‘Aye.’

Reuth delayed until he dared not wait a heartbeat longer and yelled, ‘Full port!’

Gren drove the tiller arm aside, grunting, legs straining. He even set his shoulder against it. The Lady’s Luck groaned around them as she slewed over. Tulan steadied himself against the stern railing. Reuth grabbed hold of the line holding him upright as the galley rolled frighteningly. They started across the narrows and Reuth saw immediately that their line wasn’t what he was shooting for.

‘Port oars ease off!’ he called, panic now in his voice.

‘Port oars ease off!’ Tulan roared.

Reuth assumed Storval was relaying the commands but he heard none of it over the grinding thunder of the waters about them. The port oars rose to stand straight out from the side. The Lady’s bow nosed over as the opposite row of oars powered on. ‘Resume oars!’ Reuth yelled.

Tulan relayed the command. The line of port oars dipped. Reuth breathed a sigh of immense relief. Their line looked good to him, but they’d lost speed. He leaned, pointing, to shout to Gren: ‘I want a line between that short rock and the cliff for another sweep to the middle.’