Free Dangerous Waters by Juliet E. McKenna Page B

have been carved from.
    Corrain had spent endless evenings in Halferan’s guard hall, casting three triangular bones drawn at random from a cloth or leather pouch. Throw them onto the table and the bottommost side was hidden as they landed, leaving two runes showing on the sloping faces, one upright and one reversed. With twenty seven symbols for chance to favour, the permutations were endless. So fat purses were won or lost on wagers over who might throw the combination of the strongest upright runes. Would the Water quench the Fire or the Wolf consume the Deer? Would the Drum drown out the Chime or the cold Mountain Wind overwhelm the warm Sea Breeze?
    Hosh’s voice broke into his thoughts. ‘This is good enough.’
    They sat down on the grassy slope. Oar slaves couldn’t hope for shade. Further down, beneath the leafiest trees, trusted slaves were settling earthenware bowls beside heaps of cushions. Bottles of searing liquor stood in water cool from the island’s jealously guarded wells. The ship masters were arriving.
    Corrain was still thinking about runes. He’d have thought the Archipelagans would have relished the game and with so many Aldabreshi merchants trading with the mainland, they must surely have come across it. Come to that, not all these thieves and murderers were even Archipelagans.
    He had come to realise that tawny heads and clean-shaven chins indicated mainlanders here and there, even if the sun and wind had tanned their skins like old leather. That had been merely one of the winter’s unpleasant revelations, as a double handful of galleys had returned to wait out the season’s storms among allies.
    Corrain watched the oldest and most feared of the corsairs being guided to a seat by a faithful slave. A black silk scarf around the corsair’s eyes hid whatever ruin lay beneath. His loose tunic and trews were scarlet silk and he wore sapphire studded gold bracelets as fine as any warlord’s adornments.
    What manner of man must this blind corsair be? Not merely to survive being blinded by Aldabreshin cruelty but to remain in unquestioned command of his ferocious trireme, as well as the raiding galleys that followed him for the sake of the warship’s protection?
    ‘No women.’ Hosh’s voice cracked with relief. ‘Nor children.’
    The Red Heron’s miserable cargo was being herded towards a hollow in the ground, an arena of sorts, around which gathered the corsairs. Corrain watched armed raiders separate the bemused and bedraggled men. One by one they were shoved towards the twelve stones set around the ditch that ringed the floor of the hollow. Each stone was carved with a symbol.
    Hosh had explained these indicated the constellations that the Aldabreshin followed around the heavens. Their movements conveyed potent omens, as did the wandering courses of the individual coloured stars, so bright and solitary in the night sky. Archipelagans named each of those for a gem while the Greater Moon was called the Opal and the Lesser Moon the Pearl.
    Over the course of the winter, they had learned how completely the Aldabreshi allowed happenstance to govern their lives. The circle of the compass was divided into twelve arcs and each one conveyed special significance to any signs seen within it. Anything could be taken for a portent; a bird’s flight, a sea serpent in the distance, even some unusual cloud. Or bloodier signs like sharks devouring a half-dead rower thrown overboard.
    Contempt burned Corrain’s throat as the blind corsair drew a white shell token from a gourd. His faithful slave held it up and a hush fell over the hollow.
    None of the captives realised what lay ahead. They still wore the clothes of the mainland; linen shirts and woollen breeches, torn and stained. Some were watching the armed corsairs guarding the outer rim of the ditch. Others looked beyond their captors to the men sitting on the grassy slopes. A few tried ingratiating smiles, others squared belligerent shoulders. Most