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  She was almost as tall as he was. Her hair was raven black, startlingly glossy against her alabaster skin. She was garbed in trousers and waistcoat of black leather over a shirt of red cotton. A red bandanna was wound round her forehead. Red gloves covered her hands. At her side hung a long sword and a wand of some sort was sheathed against her left thigh. She looked at them as they were brought into the square and a cruel smile quirked her very red lips.

  “What have we here?” she asked. Her voice was surprisingly deep for a woman and it had a husky quality that under different circumstances Ulrik would have found attractive. “A swordsman, a dandy and a whore?”

  “Greetings, captain,” Ulrik said. The woman tilted her head to one side quizzically. She looked at Ulrik as if there was something vaguely familiar about him. Her eyes were very black and her lashes were very long. There was a faint rosy flush to her cheeks.

  “I know you from somewhere,” she said.

  “My name is Ulrik. You saw me at the Council of Captains.”

  “Right.” She turned to her men and said, “Ease up. This complicates things. I can’t ransom a fellow captain.”

  “If he is a captain, madam, where’s his ship?” Riordan said. “Where’s his crew. You can’t be a captain without a ship or a crew.”

  “No member of the Brotherhood can be taken for a slave either, Riordan,” she said coldly.

  “But like you said, captain, things have changed in Hydra.” There was a subtle challenge in Riordan’s voice.

  “Not that much,” Serena said.

  “Then we’re not your prisoners, captain,” said Valerius. She looked at him and smiled and her smile held no more warmth than the one she’d turned on Ulrik.

  “Let us just say that I insist upon you being my guests,” she said. “For the moment, until I decide what has to be done with you.”

  When she turned her gaze back to Ulrik she spoke with a little more courtesy. “I think you should introduce me to your companions, Captain Ulrik.”

  Valerius said, “I am Valerius of the House of Karnak and my charming companion is called Rhea. She is my property.” He stopped there, for which Ulrik was profoundly grateful. If Valerius had claimed that Ulrik was also his slave it might have changed things completely with Serena. He had never heard of a captain who was also a slave. They did not seem like the time to test his legal position in the Council of Captains.

  “His ransom should be worth a pretty penny, captain,” said Riordan. “Karnak is one of the richest Houses in Typhon and they’ll doubtless pay to get their boy back.”

  The rest of the pirates laughed and nodded agreement. Valerius smiled as if he too was enjoying the situation but then added, “Alas, you may find that my House places considerably less value on my life than you do.”

  “No matter,” said Serena. “We’ll see what we can get for you, one way or another.”

  Ulrik did not like the way she said that at all.

  Ulrik glanced around Serena’s cabin, surprised that she had invited Valerius and himself to come. Normally the captain’s cabin was the holy of holies on a ship, a private space held inviolate where the vessel’s absolute ruler could brood and plan without interruption.

  Envy gnawed at him. Once he had enjoyed just such privileges in his own cabin, although on a far smaller and much less luxurious ship.

  Serena’s chamber had wood panelling and two mullioned bay windows, a raised platform covered in sleeping silks and a full length vanity mirror set in the walls. A chandelier containing four glowglobes swung from the ceiling. There was a desk covered in charts and navigation instruments. There were two comfortable armchairs bolted to the floor. A sling chair hung from the ceiling, in which Serena sat. The power sceptre was still strapped to her thigh and she had a sword within easy reach. Protective amulets glittered at her throat.

  He sensed a presence in the cabin which did not surprise him. Serena was taking a risk being alone in her cabin with the pair of them without any bodyguards. She was a strapping physically confident woman but even with her armed and them not, there was always the possibility of them managing to overpower her. He felt that she must have some advantage held in reserve and it did not take him long to spot it.

  A faint breeze wheezed from the corner, and when he looked for the source he saw that the air swirled oddly in the gloom. He adjusted the perception of his altered eyes and it resolved into a massive, vaguely man-like aura whose surface rippled like water. He had seen such things before, although they usually chose to manifest themselves much more obviously.

  Maybe she thought they would not notice the thing, or maybe she was simply trying to keep her protection discrete. Probably the latter he guessed.

  “Bound elementals are pricy things,” he said to notify Valerius of the guardian’s presence, in the unlikely event that the wizard had not noticed.

  “Umar was a gift from my father. He has been in my service since I was a child.”

  Valerius looked over into the corner with professional interest. The shape took more visible form. Its lower half looked like boiling mist, its upper half like the muscular torso of a shaven headed, blue-skinned translucent giant. Such creatures were the scourge of the upper air in certain regions, but captured and bound they were worth a fortune. They could carry their owners through the air from a crashing ship, as well as act as bodyguards. It took powerful magic to harm their semi-substantial forms but they suffered no such problems harming the living. They could rend flesh and suck air from lungs. They had other powers as well.

  “I trust your cabin is to your satisfaction,” said Serena. She let the chair swing. Her cabin a lot more spacious than the one assigned to the three of them but that did not matter. Given how precious space was on any fighting ship Ulrik knew she was being very generous assigning any space at all. One of her own officers must have been moved to accommodate them. She really did seem to be treating them like guests rather than prisoners.

  “More than adequate,” said Valerius. As the scion of a trading family he too had some idea of the value of space on a ship. “Very generous indeed, in fact. I am hoping that your generosity will extend to the return of my adjuncts and my companions’ weapons. They are valuable.”

  “I regret that I cannot at the moment. Having a powerful sorcerer running about the ship would not be the cleverest of moves on my part. It would not be good for morale among the crew either. In any case, you are under my protection. You will have no need of your gear for now. I will see that it is returned if circumstances warrant it.”

  Valerius made a graceful bow of acceptance.

  “Then I shall trust to your word,” he said, almost as if he had some say in the matter. His voice was flat and lacked the hypnotic undertones Ulrik had heard him use in the past. The wizard was obviously doing his best to conceal his true strength. “May I ask when those circumstances are likely to arise?”

  “You may but you won’t get an answer,” said Serena. She took Valerius’s flattering attention as if it were only her due. Ulrik supposed she was used to it from men. She was certainly beautiful enough. “I require the advice of a wizard.”

  Valerius inclined his head and steepled his fingers, the very picture of the high-priced consulting wizard listening to a wealthy client. Ulrik had seen astromancers and fleshweavers look the same way. “If you could tell me what the problem is I should be able to give you some idea of whether I can help you although I regret to say that I am an indifferent sorcerer at best.”

  “Nonetheless, your ability and experience is much greater than my own and your advice may prove invaluable.”

  “Continue.”

  “The fleets bring in thousands of prisoners. They all vanish into Molok’s Tower and are never seen or heard of again. They aren’t sold as slaves. Why would anyone do this?”

  Valerius looked at her blandly. “Who is Molok?”

  “You have seen an example of his work. The ship that attacked The Pride of Karnak.”

  “Why
do you bear Molok’s colours on your ship?” Ulrik asked.

  “Every Hydran ship does now,” said Serena. “We are all part of one fleet.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “The decree was passed last week.”

  “Things have certainly changed in Hydra.”

  “They have,” said Serena. Valerius looked annoyed at having been left out of the conversation.

  “The Black Ship was impressive piece of work. Your friend Molok has revivified some ancient techniques of demon-binding and applied them on a massive scale.”

  “So another wizard told me before he died. He also told me that it should not be possible to do such a thing. It was sorcery on a scale that should be beyond any mortal mage.”

  Valerius considered this. “He might well have been right. It would have taken a particularly powerful cabal to bind the demons to that hull and it would take an enormous effort to control them. Yet you are telling me there is more than one such ship.”

  “There are ten.”

  “That would take all the strength of a regiment of archmages.”

  “There are more being built.”

  “Then your friend Molok had perfected significant advances in the craft of demon-binding.”

  “It would appear so. I suspect that his power is only likely to increase in the near future.”

  “I would not doubt it. There is always a market for new breakthroughs in magic…”

  “What about the people who vanish?” Serena asked.

  “The most obvious answer is that they are sacrifices used to feed the demons Molok summons.”

  “I suspected as much. That should worry you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it is now standard practise for every Hydran ship to hand all prisoners over to Molok’s acolytes for bounty.”

  “Do you plan on doing that?” Ulrik asked.

  “I may not have any choice,” said Serena. She looked frightened, and normally any member of the Council of Captains would have died before letting themselves look that way. That worried Ulrik most of all. Molok had found a way to put fear in the hearts of those who feared nothing and it looked like he and the others were going to be sold into his hands.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ulrik stood on the main deck of the Fiery Blade, feeling the wind from the great rotors tugging at his clothing, revelling in the vibration of the liftwood under his feet, a combination of engine thrum and the resonance of the ship itself as it cleaved the air. He walked all the way to the prow and stood beside the figurehead, a carved representation of a startlingly beautiful, naked woman holding a sword. He ran his fingers over the cold riveted metal of the hull then touched the scar on his chest where Valerius had inserted his demonic larvae. Looking down he could see the clouds below him and through the gaps in the clouds the parched desert.

  He was glad he had borrowed a heat-trapping body harness. The cold at this height was numbing without one. Crystalline goggles protected his eyes from the wind’s chill, dry touch. Automatically his hands went to his hip where a blade would normally have been scabbarded. He felt almost naked without one. He had carried a weapon for most of his adult life. He had gotten used to carrying one again since he had become Valerius’s bodyguard.

  The smell of ozone reached his nostrils and he saw the light of the runes flow on the side of one of the lateral rotor pods as it compensated for the thrashing of the elemental trapped within. He felt some sympathy for the creature. He too had once roamed free among the clouds. Now he too was bound by the will of another.

  He told himself not to be so self-pitying. At least he was not confined within a tiny rotor mount like a prisoner in a condemned cell, bound forever or until his life-force wasted away. The elemental suffered slavery of a different order of magnitude to his own.

  All around crewmen went about their duties, each surrounded by a shimmering translucent body-field that protected against the cold and the wind. Underneath those he could see the glow of tattooed glyphs and wards that gave the sky-sailors additional protection. He recognised some of them: last second levitation runes, wards against impact, probability-warping luck charms.

  It was strange to be aboard a Hydran ship after so long, and even stranger not to feel part of the crew. This has been the only life he had ever known from his earliest youth until his capture the year before.

  He had more in common with the sailors surrounding him than he had with Valerius or Rhea and yet they eyed him with something like suspicion. There was a sullenness in their eyes that he would never have expected to see in a Hydran crew under a successful captain.

  He felt a presence beside him and turned to see Valerius. “If you’re going to be captured by pirates, it’s just as well if it’s one as lovely as Serena,” the wizard said.

  “Don’t underestimate her. She may be a looker, but she’s as cruel and ruthless as any of the others. You don’t get to be a member of the Council of Captains by being any other way.”

  “As you are well-qualified to say, eh friend Ulrik?”

  “I am not your friend,” said Ulrik. “I am your slave.”

  He said the latter very quietly. He doubted anyone could overhear them but it was best to take no chances.

  “We’re fellow prisoners at the moment, so at least we have that in common.”

  “Some of us are more prisoners than others.”

  “Do not worry. I shall see that my family ransoms you and Rhea as well.”

  “Who will ransom us from your family?”

  Valerius smiled. “Perhaps you shall do it yourself. You saved my life back on The Pride of Karnak. I will not forget it.”

  Ulrik wondered about that. In his experience, people tended to forget the things they ought to be grateful for with the passage of time. He had done it himself.

  Sailors moved about their various errands, checking control runes, sanding the deck or keeping watch. Valerius shook his head as he watched.

  “What?” Ulrik asked.

  “The runes,” Valerius said. “The tattoos these men have. Not very sensible I am afraid.”

  “Why?”

  “They are permanently activated.”

  “So?”

  “Bad workmanship by whatever pictomancer inscribed them. The glyphs should never be made permanent that way. They drain the life-force of the recipient to power themselves. A sure way to shorten life.”

  “I doubt many of these men are planning on living to a ripe old age, given their choice of career.”

  “You are in a better position to know about such things than I.”

  Ulrik was concerned though. “Will it really kill them?”

  Valerius nodded. “In the long run. The power for magic has to come from somewhere. In the case of glyphs and tattoos it’s normally taken from the owner’s own life-force. It will age them and weaken them over time.”

  “Does all magic do that?”

  “Yes.”

  “So your magic feeds on your life force.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why does it not kill you?”

  “Some people produce more magical energy than others. In most people it replenishes over time, providing they rest and don’t drain it with permanent spells.”

  “That energy must come from somewhere. It does not just appear.”

  “You are alive. Your body is warm. It radiates heat. When you are dead, it will be cold. I have heard some people claim that magical energy is like the heat of our blood. It occurs naturally as part of the process of living.”

  “It can’t be that simple.”

  “There are other sources of power that wizards can sometimes tap into.”

  “Like what?”

  “If you bind a powerful demon into an object you can use its power, instead of your own.” This rang alarm bells in Ulrik’s head.

  “Could you do that with the thing you have bound into me?”

  “In theory, yes. It did not cross my mind to try such a thing, but the idea
is not without merits.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t have to worry about it. Altering the binding spell in that way is not something I could even attempt without access to a well-equipped laboratory. I’m afraid controlling the demon will have to remain a net drain on my magical balance of payments rather than the other way round.”

  “Controlling the demon does drain your energy, then?”

  “Hush, someone might hear you.”

  “I would like an answer.”

  “You are full of questions today, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t often get to question you, master wizard.” Ulrik placed a sardonic emphasis on the word, master.

  “I assure you, my dear Ulrik, that I am very far from being that, as you would know if you had ever witnessed my uncle work sorcery. I am a dabbler, a dilettante. I have some knowledge, a little power, and many adjuncts to aid me.”

  “The magic I have seen you work was impressive enough.”

  “It’s very flattering of you to say so, but I can only repeat that I am very far from being a master sorcerer.”

  “In any case you have avoided answering my question.”

  “Such was not my intention. To answer it, maintaining the spell does drain some of my energy, but under most circumstances my body replenishes the energy faster than it’s drained away.”

  “But if you were placed under too much strain, drew too much energy, it could kill you.”

  “I will try to avoid such an eventuality.”

  “I am not reassured.”

  Ulrik touched the scar on his chest again. The thing Valerius had implanted there would devour him body and soul if it woke. He was beginning to think he grasped the hows and whys of it now. Another thought occurred to him.

  “If your little pet wakes up and destroys me what will happen to it then? You will have freed it from the binding spell but you’ll have unleashed a demon into our world.”

  “If I’m dead and you are present it will be a gift for those who kill us,” said Valerius. He smiled as if he was making a joke but there was no humour in his voice.

  “And what if you use it simply to kill me, as you have occasionally threatened. Doesn’t the thought of having an unbound demon nearby trouble you?”