The Gathering Storm (Crown of Stars 5)

The male servant emerged from the tiny cabin, carrying Meriam in her sling. When the man stopped beside Marcus, she assessed the situation as distant oars rose and fell and a drumbeat rang over the smooth waters.

“I see,” she said. “Yes, that’s a Jinna crew.”

“Let me raise a wind to our sails, then, and if you can cast aught to lessen their fervor, it will be the better for us.”

“Yes,” she agreed with such alacrity that Zacharias stared to see them work as with one mind, in no wise different than laborers who bend to the harvest in harmony to the songs they sang to make the work pass easily during long harvest days.

Oars flashed as the galley sped toward them. The wind flagged. The sail slackened, although the sailors desperately tacked again and caught the last dying gasp of the breeze.

“It’s too late,” Zacharias whimpered. “They’ll catch us. We’ll be slaves.”

Again.

“They’ve a conjurer on board,” commented Meriam. “Elene! Fetch my pouch.”

Elene disappeared into the cabin.

“See if you can learn something,” snapped Marcus as Zacharias struggled to repress his tears. The frater hated himself for his servile cowardice, but the sight of those implacable oar beats filled him with such fear that he could not speak. The drum of the oar master shuddered through his body, each rap sounding his doom.

Marcus beckoned to the captain. “Seek any tangled rope on board, especially that which was coiled neatly beforetime.”

The captain had not taken two steps away before an observant sailor shouted from the prow, and Marcus hurried forward to find the anchor rope so snarled and knotted that no man, surely, could have done the damage, and no sailor would treat rope so carelessly. Zacharias staggered after him, hard pressed to keep on his feet although the deck wasn’t rolling any more than it had been before Wolfhere sighted the pirate ship.

The last breath of wind died, and the sail sagged and went slack. Becalmed, the ship creaked as waves lapped the hull. It was such a soothing sound but for the hammer of the drum that powered the Jinna galley, swooping in for the kill.

Marcus knelt beside the rope and placed his hands over the coils. Zacharias collapsed beside him as, in a low voice, Marcus spoke words the frater neither understood nor recognized. Was his vision blurring, or did it seem that the rope began to slither in the manner of snakes?

appeared at the stern and placed her hands on the railing as she stared toward the distant land. After a moment Wolfhere joined her, and bent his head to listen. Jealous, Zacharias wondered what they spoke about.

“Pay attention, Zacharias!”

He started and shifted his gaze to the cleric.

Marcus had the most caustic smile imaginable, a curious way of turning up his lips and narrowing his eyes that made Zacharias squirm. “Are you done?” He did not wait for an answer. “To repeat. The ecliptic and the motion of the moon. Because the moon’s path wobbles at an incline to the ecliptic, the moon crosses south to north and north to south at regular intervals. The points on the ecliptic where it crosses are called the ascending node and the descending node, or caput draconis and cauda draconis—that is, the head and the tail of the dragon.”

“Sail!” cried Wolfhere.

The lookout echoed the cry.

Sailors rushed to the railing. Elene leaned out until she seemed likely to pitch overboard, and her face was alight, as though she thought her father was coming for her at last. “Pirates!” she cried eagerly.

A galley powered by oars cut through the water. There wasn’t enough wind to save them, and although they could row, too, their sturdy cog could not hope to outrun a swift warship.

“It’s a Jinna ship!” shouted Wolfhere. “See the banner! They’ll take as slaves those they don’t kill”

Zacharias rose but could barely keep his feet because his legs shook so much. He broke out in a sweat. The captain rushed up to Marcus and commenced gesticulating and shouting. Marcus merely looked annoyed as at an exasperating child who will not cease interrupting although he’s been told to sit still and keep quiet.

“Enough!” he said, and the captain hushed. “Bring Sister Meriam,” he added, and a servant went to her cabin to rouse her from her afternoon nap. “Sit, Zacharias! You’re in my way.”

Zacharias’ rump hit the deck hard; he trembled all over. Sailors grabbed spears and poles and readied their knives. Wolfhere did not move, not even to touch the hilt of his sword. He stared so fixedly at the approaching ship that Zacharias wondered if he had been ensorcelled. Marcus tapped his feet on the decking, a pit-pit-pat, pit-pit-pat rhythm that made the father want to scream.

The male servant emerged from the tiny cabin, carrying Meriam in her sling. When the man stopped beside Marcus, she assessed the situation as distant oars rose and fell and a drumbeat rang over the smooth waters.

“I see,” she said. “Yes, that’s a Jinna crew.”

“Let me raise a wind to our sails, then, and if you can cast aught to lessen their fervor, it will be the better for us.”

“Yes,” she agreed with such alacrity that Zacharias stared to see them work as with one mind, in no wise different than laborers who bend to the harvest in harmony to the songs they sang to make the work pass easily during long harvest days.