The Ruling Sea by Robert V S Redick Read Free Book Online Page A

Mistress Pacu.”
    “No!” snapped Neeps.
    “No,” Pazel agreed. “She’s fond of Thasha in her way, but her only real passions are horses and the glory of Arqual. Who knows what she’d do if we told her the plan?”
    “The boys are right,” said Hercól. “The Lapadolmas have fought and bled for the Magad Emperors for two hundred years, and Pacu embraces that history with measureless pride. We must assume, moreover, that Sandor Ott’s spies remain active, no matter what has happened to their master.”
    “I hope a ton of bricks happened to him,” said Pazel. “Maybe one of those half-ruined buildings in Ormael.”
    “He may have fled Ormael by now,” said Hercól, “whether or not the Imperial governor has had the courage to order him brought to justice. But his agents are still in place, and they will be watching us. We shall be in danger by land and sea. Yet I cannot forget Ramachni’s warning. At some point we must risk confidences again.”
    Pazel felt a stab of worry. Ramachni was their mage, a good wizard in the body of a coal-black mink, who for reasons he would not discuss had taken an interest in Thasha for years. His home was not Alifros but a distant world. Pazel had glimpsed that world once, through a magic portal, the thought of which thrilled and frightened him to this day.
    But last night Ramachni had left them. The battle with Arunis had taken all his strength and forced him to crawl back through the portal to his own world, to recuperate. Find new allies , he had told them as he left: find them at all costs, or you can’t hope to prevail . And when would he return? Look for me , he had said, when a darkness falls beyond today’s imagining .
    To Pazel that sounded like a very long time. He wondered if the others felt the same vague terror as he did. Without Ramachni’s wisdom they were fumbling, blind—lost in the darkness already.
    “You took one risk this morning, didn’t you?” said Fiffengurt. “You trusted me.”
    Hercól laughed. “That was not difficult. Pazel, Neeps and Thasha all vouched for you. Agreement among them is too rare a thing to ignore.”
    “Yet I’m fond of Arqual myself,” said Fiffengurt. “Not the Empire, mind you: I mean the old notions we sang about in nursery-days— Arqual, Arqual, just and true, land of hope forever new —before all this lust for territory and hugeness. They stole that Arqual out from under our noses a long time ago, in my granddad’s day, maybe. If it ever existed, that is. By the Blessed Tree, I always thought it once had. But after what I’ve seen aboard Chathrand I don’t know what to think.”
    Hercól gave a rueful smile. “It existed,” he said. “But not in your grandfather’s time. Perhaps his grandfather saw its twilight, as a young man. Such talk must wait, however. We must concentrate on Thasha if we are to save her.”
    “I just wish we could tell the admiral,” said Pazel, looking somberly through the gate.
    “Not a chance,” said Fiffengurt. “Thasha said it herself: old Isiq would never have agreed.”
    “Master Hercól,” said a voice behind them.
    The friends fell quickly silent. A young man with a bright smile and handsome, chisel-jawed features was standing a few paces away, hands folded. He was dressed smartly, dark vest over white shirt, billowed sleeves held snug at the wrists with cuff links of polished brass: the uniform of a page or errand-runner for the well-to-do. He gave them a slight, ironic bow.
    “What do you want, lad?” said Hercól. “I don’t know you.”
    “Not know me?” said the youth, his voice amused. “Does the leaf forget the tree that made it, or the tree the wooded mountain?”
    Hercól froze at the words. Then he slowly turned to face the young man. The youth gave him a barely perceptible nod.
    “Keep an eye out for Thasha,” said Hercól to the others. Then he took the young man by the elbow and moved swiftly away through the crowd. Pazel watched them cross a