Free The Night of the Swarm (Chathrand Voyage 4) by Robert V.S. Redick

I’m not calling you a
coward, sir. You might even have joined them, if I’d allowed it, for you’re quite fond of your family of criminals. But of course I could not allow it. We have over seven hundred men
left to care for, and no doctor but you, save that, that—’
    He gestured vaguely at Rain, whose eyes tracked his moving hand, befuddled. Ott and Haddismal roared with laughter.
    ‘Prince Olik’s brief rule in Masalym will already have ended,’ said Rose, speaking over them. ‘Macadra will likely kill the man, if she can do so quietly enough. In any
case, she will replace him with one of her servants. Ott is correct, Doctor: you knew from the start that we would not return. So did your friends who went ashore, in their hearts.’
    ‘You yourself planned to go with them,’ said Chadfallow, staring rigidly at Rose. ‘What if Ott had allowed you to join the expedition? Do you think for one instant that if Mr
Fiffengurt had taken command, he would have abandoned you?’
    ‘Ott did not prevent me going ashore,’ said Rose.
    At that Spengler paused in his rummaging, and spat. ‘You’re a liar, Rose. He hog-tied you. You should boot that spy’s arse right over the rail.’
    ‘Pointless speculation,’ said Ott. ‘I would have compelled Fiffengurt to sail on, whatever his preference might have been. No, our dalliance with traitors has run its course.
If there was any justification for their presence aboard, it lay in their efforts to thwart Arunis and drive him from the ship. That work is done, but His Supremacy’s great task is
not.’
    Fiffengurt’s face had turned so scarlet that Rose half expected to see blood filling the whites of his eyes. Chadfallow was restraining him by force. The doctor’s jaw was clenched,
as if words he dared not utter were caught between his teeth. He drew a deep, shaky breath. ‘Sandor Ott,’ he said, ‘you’re a man of immense talents, immense energies and
strength.’
    Smiling broadly, as though preparing for a grand entertainment, Ott leaned back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head.
    ‘You are the personification of commitment,’ the doctor continued. ‘That I would never deny, although I differ with your choice of loyalties. You might have grown very rich,
without ever leaving Etherhorde; you might have settled for exploiting your office. You did not. You chose one task and pursued it selflessly, and with skills like no other man alive. I say all
this because I wish you to know that I am not blinded by the animosity between us.’
    Haddismal appeared to be preparing some caustic remark, but Ott wagged a finger at him for silence.
    ‘Now all I ask,’ said Chadfallow, ‘is that you try to see beyond that hatred yourself. The emperor you serve has long counted me among his irreplaceable servants. In his name,
let me ask . . . a favour of you. Let the men be landed on the Sandwall, and await the signal from Masalym. Let us wait for them here, as we discussed. Only for a fortnight – your plans for
the Shaggat will not be harmed by such a small delay. Let us see if Macadra departs, and whether Pazel and the others return. They need not trouble you, now that Arunis is gone. They can be kept in
the brig – all of them, all the way to Gurishal and beyond. But do not leave them here, to grow old and die among the dlömu, never seeing human faces again.’
    Ott’s smile had faded into something more thoughtful. Haddismal too had shed his look of mirth.
    ‘Rose, you must put a stop to this,’ said Kurlstaff. ‘You’re the blary captain, not the spy. He should be seeking that boon from
you
.’
    Rose looked the ghost in the face but said not a word.
    ‘I am begging you, Mr Ott,’ said Chadfallow. ‘But more importantly, I am appealing to the idealist in you – the loyal soldier. Your dedication to Magad the Fifth is a
passion in your heart, like all human loyalties. Pazel, Thasha, Hercól Stanapeth – their passions are no different.