Part 29 (1/2)

'He's turning,' Howlish said. 'Too late, too late.'

At the last instant, the other vessel began to turn aside, but it was a futile manoeuvre.

The yacht struck the stern of the wars.h.i.+p with an impact that almost knocked Briana off her feet. From the rear came a great crash of timbers and groan of metal. Men stumbled and fell across the rain-swept deck. The Haurstaf s.h.i.+p yawed wildly, her hull actually rising a few feet out of the water. The yacht kept coming, her vast momentum carrying her along as she sc.r.a.ped along the side of the wars.h.i.+p with a juddering shriek. For an instant the two vessels were almost side by side. They began to part.

And then a second concussion thudded through the wars.h.i.+p's timbers. Granger's yacht broke away, turning downwind as the man-o'-war rocked heavily and righted itself. In the Haurstaf wheelhouse, the helmsman fought against the wheel. The first officer steadied himself and rushed over to the comspool.

'Port-side guns,' Howlish said. 'All of them.'

'We're still turning, sir.'

Howlish scowled at the helmsman. 'Close haul.'

The helmsman was still struggling with the wheel. 'I can't . . . I think we've lost our rudder, captain.'

The captain snorted. 'Then how can we possibly possibly be turning be turning into into the wind?' the wind?'

'I don't know, sir.'

But it was true. The man-o'-war continued to pivot, as some unseen force pushed it into the very face of the gale, turning their broadside away from the departing yacht. The mainsail and jib began to luff. They were losing control.

The whole wars.h.i.+p gave a sudden, violent jerk.

Captain Howlish fell against the navigation console. Briana grabbed the first officer's arm to steady herself. From somewhere aft came a long, low groan.

The man-o'-war began to move backwards.

Shouts came from outside. Howlish threw open the wheel-house door to better hear his crewmen, admitting a blast of rain and wind. Briana lifted the hood of her whaleskin cloak and moved over beside him. 'Trouble?' she asked.

Three crewmen clung to the p.o.o.p deck, leaning over the taffarell as they examined the wrecked stern by the light of a gem lantern. One of them was shouting something, but the wind stole his voice.

Howlish waved a fourth crewman over. 'What is going on?'

The man looked up and said, 'We've been harpooned, sir.'

'What?'

'A dragon harpoon, captain. Biggest one I've ever seen. It's buried deep in the stern post, down at the waterline. She's using it to tow us.'

'Tow us?'

'Aye, Captain. The steam yacht is towing us behind her.'

CHAPTER 14.

HOW TO SINK A s.h.i.+P.

Granger turned off the gas torch, lifted his mask and examined the cable welds with eyes blurred by exhaustion. He had secured the heavy tow line by wrapping it around three of the gun deck's steel-reinforced dragon-bone arches before finally welding it fast. He glanced over at the rearmost cannon hatch, through which the cable disappeared. The bulkhead had buckled under the strain, but it would hold well enough. Raising the back of the gun carriage with a chain winch had allowed him to give the harpoon the required trajectory down into the stern post where it met the waterline but the recoil had badly damaged the old cannon itself.

Finding everything secure, he wondered if he ought to check on the engines. He was pus.h.i.+ng them close to their design limits. But he felt too weary to venture down there right now. The helm was locked on course, the man-o'-war secured behind him, and he had fuel enough to drag the b.a.s.t.a.r.d for a hundred leagues more than enough to take them where he needed to go. The thing about men-o'-war was that they had a deep draught. And the thing about the Excelsior Excelsior was that she had much a shallower draught. And that was going to make her mightily easy to ground in coastal waters. was that she had much a shallower draught. And that was going to make her mightily easy to ground in coastal waters.

But now he badly needed sleep.

He wandered aft to the emperor's private suite.

Hu's living areas comprised a warren of deeply l.u.s.trous rosewood, hauled up from undersea forests. Some of the blood-coloured beams looked thousands of years old. Free-flowing part.i.tions and arches made from the boughs of once-living trees divided the s.p.a.ce between the hull into numerous nooks, each illuminated by a different-coloured gem lantern. It gave the impression of wandering through a woodland carnival. The furniture had been made in the same style, all rich dark curves lacquered to a high sheen the sort of rustic elegance popular in Losoto that was neither rustic nor, Granger felt, particularly elegant.

In the largest of these convoluted wooded s.p.a.ces Granger found an enormous circular bed set on eight gilt pedestals, each carved into the image of Hu himself. He frowned at it with disapproval but sat down anyway and took off his boots. He lay back into a mattress as soft as air and found himself staring up at his own grotesque reflection. The emperor had fitted a mirror to the ceiling. He sat up again and rubbed his eyes and went to find the head.

Hundreds of bottles, tins and jars packed the wooden shelves above the sink a formidable collection of perfumes, lotions, medicines and creams. Granger picked up a jar of Potelemy's Canker Sore Solution, popped it open and sniffed the contents. The odour brought a brief smile to his face. Permanganate of potash. He'd once had Banks and Creedy mix this stuff with bottles of Doctor Cooper's Famous Sweet.w.a.ter to make liquid fire. They'd poured the lot down the air shaft of an enemy bunker in Dunbar. With the right mixture of toiletries you could burn a man's skin clean off.

While he took a p.i.s.s he let his gaze wander over the shelves b.u.t.terflower Soap, Parafranio's Wonder Water, Sparkling Eye Drops, Face Polish, Silk l.u.s.tre Dust, Royal Lady Skin Soft Cream, Fragrance of the Glade mentally sorting the explosive components and combustibles from the useless stuff. Most of these powders and potions cost more than he'd made in a month's soldiering. Even the tins could be utilized by submerging them in lye and filling balloons with the explosive gas given off. It appalled him that any man could waste such potential by slapping it on his face.

He flushed the head, then went back to the bed chamber and eased his wounded body down into the sheets. That horrible, burning-eyed visage stared back at him from the mirror in the ceiling. It occurred to him that Ianthe might look through his eyes, so he closed them. He lay there for a long time, gazing into the darkness behind his eyelids, thinking about her. Then he got up again and went back to the head. He took the jar of Royal Lady Skin Soft Cream from the shelf and weighed it in his hand. Stupid thing. But he opened the jar anyway and scooped some out and rubbed it into the leathery folds of his face.

After he'd finished, he lay back down on the bed. That hideous face in the ceiling mirror, now daubed with white cream, mocked him. Granger grabbed the sheets and pillows from the bed and set off back to the bridge. It made more sense to sleep there, after all.

'What do you want?' Briana asked.

Maskelyne looked up from his writing desk. 'Sister Marks,' he said. He set down his pencil and stood up. 'Actually, I want to help you.'

Briana glanced around the stateroom. This luxurious accommodation was usually reserved for visiting clients, and no expense had been spared on the deep Evensraum rugs, gilt furniture and clamsh.e.l.l lantern shades. Lucille was reclining on a white leather carasole bench with a gla.s.s of wine in her hand. Her bruises looked shocking in the bright white light. Painted toys lay scattered across the floor around Maskelyne's son, who took one look at Briana and then crawled over to hide behind his mother's legs.

'As I understand it,' Maskelyne said, 'Colonel Granger has sunk your escort s.h.i.+ps and is now dragging this vessel to some unknown destination.'

Briana opened her mouth to speak, but Maskelyne held up his hand.

'The harpoon is lodged in the Herald Herald's stern post below the waterline,' he went on, 'making it impossible to reach without diving equipment which, of course, you lack. Nevertheless, our kidnapper cannot board us, nor fire upon us without risking the life of his own dear child.'

'He's-' Briana tried to interject.

'Furthermore,' the metaphysicist added, 'Colonel Granger must a.s.sume that you have already summoned aid telepathically, and so he must act quickly. What, then, are his options?'

'Obviously,' Briana said, 'he's going to turn this kidnapping into a political statement.'

Maskelyne's eyes opened in mild surprise. 'Precisely,' he replied. 'How many cultures have found themselves liberated liberated because they could not afford the psychic services their own enemies relied upon?' His dark eyes gleamed. 'What do you imagine would happen, for example, if our renegade colonel decided to run the Haurstaf flags.h.i.+p aground on the Evensraum coast?' He smiled. 'Have you ever seen an animal carca.s.s lying across an ant trail? The bones are so clean they look like they've been polished.' because they could not afford the psychic services their own enemies relied upon?' His dark eyes gleamed. 'What do you imagine would happen, for example, if our renegade colonel decided to run the Haurstaf flags.h.i.+p aground on the Evensraum coast?' He smiled. 'Have you ever seen an animal carca.s.s lying across an ant trail? The bones are so clean they look like they've been polished.'

Briana smiled thinly.

'Would I be correct in a.s.suming you haven't contacted Awl yet?'

'I'm perfectly capable of dealing with this situation myself, Mr Maskelyne.'

'Well, quite,' he said. 'We wouldn't want your sisters to think you incapable, would we?'

Briana felt her face redden. 'Be careful, Mr Maskelyne. You are in no position to lecture others.'