Part 15 (2/2)
The sh.o.r.e-side Wrecker lords were always considered fair game, and there was no finesse in Rover raids upon them. Those were conducted with a cold-blooded determination to strike hard at a long-time foe. However, within the past year there had been several raids on fairings with the same blood-bath result of a foray on a Wrecker port. And, since all the fleet-clans denied the sneak-and-strike, kill-and-destroy tactics which had finished those Rover holdings, the seafarers were divided in their opinion as to whether the murderous raids were the work of Wreckers suddenly acting out of character and taking to the sea to bring war back to their enemies, or whether there was a rogue fleet moving against their own kind for some purpose no Rover could yet guess.
”And you believe?” Ross asked as Torgul finished his resume of the new dangers besetting his people.
Torgul's hand, its long, slender fingers spidery to Terran eyes, rubbed back and forth across his chin before he answered:
”It is very hard for one who has fought them long to believe that suddenly those sh.o.r.e rats are entrusting themselves to the waves, venturing out to stir us with their swords. One does not descend into the depths to kick a salkar in the rump; not if one still has his wits safely encased under his skull braid. As for a rogue fleet ... what would turn brother against brother to the extent of slaying children and women? Raiding for a wife, yes, that is common among our youth. And there have been killings over such matters. But not the killing of a woman--never of a child! We are a people who have never as many women as there are men who wish to bring them into the home cabin. And no clan has as many children as they hope the Shades will send them.”
”Then who?”
When Torgul did not answer at once Ross glanced at the Captain, and what the Terran thought he saw showing for an instant in the other's eyes was a revelation of danger. So much so that he blurted out:
”You think that I--we--”
”You have named yourself of the sea, stranger, and you have magic which is not ours. Tell me this in truth: Could you not have killed Vistur easily with those two blows if you had wished it?”
Ross took the bold course. ”Yes, but I did not. My people kill no more wantonly than yours.”
”The coast rats I know, and the Foanna, as well as any man may know their kind and ways, and my people--But you I do not know, sea stranger.
And I say to you as I have said before, make me regret that I suffered you to claim battle rights and I shall speedily correct that mistake!”
”Captain!”
That cry had come from the cabin door behind Ross. Torgul was on his feet with the swift movements of a man called many times in the past for an instant response to emergency.
The Terran was close on the Rover's heels as they reached the deck. A cl.u.s.ter of crewmen gathered on the port side near the narrow bow. That odd misty quality this day held provided a murk hard to pierce, but the men were gesturing at a low-riding object rolling with the waves.
That was near enough for even Ross to be able to distinguish a small boat akin to the one in which he, Karara, and Loketh had dared the sea gate of the Foanna.
Torgul took up a great curved sh.e.l.l hanging by a thong on the mainmast.
Setting its narrow end to his lips, he blew. A weird booming note, like the coughing of a sea monster, carried over the waves. But there was no answer from the drifting boat, no sign it carried any pa.s.sengers.
”Hou, hou, hou--” Torgul's signal was re-echoed by sh.e.l.l calls from the other two cruisers.
”Heave to!” the Captain ordered. ”Wakti, Zimmon, Yoana--out and bring that in!”
Three of the crew leaped to the railing, poised there for a moment, and then dived almost as one into the water. A rope end was thrown, caught by one of them. And then they swam with powerful strokes toward the drifting boat. Once the rope was made fast the small craft was drawn toward Torgul's command, the crewmen swimming beside it. Ross longed to know the reason for the tense expectancy of the men around him. It was apparent the skiff had some ominous meaning for them.
Ross caught a glimpse of a body huddled within the craft. Under Torgul's orders a sling was dropped, to rise, weighted with a pa.s.senger. The Terran was shouldered back from the rail as the limp body was hurried into the Captain's cabin. Several crewmen slid down to make an examination of the boat itself.
Their heads came up, their eyes searched along the rail and centered on Ross. The hostility was so open the Terran braced himself to meet those cold stares as he would a rush from a challenger.
A slight sound behind sent Ross leaping to the right, wanting to get his back against solid protection. Loketh came up, his limp making him awkward so that he clutched at the rail for support. In his other hand was one of the hooked swords bared and ready.
”Get the murderers!” Someone in the back line of the ma.s.sing crew yipped that.
Ross drew his diver's knife. Shaken at this sudden change in the crew's att.i.tude, he was warily on the defensive. Loketh was beside him now and the Hawaikan nodded to the sea.
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