Free Shallows of Night - 02 by Eric Van Lustbader

total fear of your retribution. And you wanted to destroy me; I saw it in your face, etched as clearly as a stylus shapes warm wax, when you captured me after my return from the City of Ten Thousand Paths. You had already sent your minions after me: on the Stairwell with K’reen, my beloved, my sister; in the Square of Combat with Marcsh. Now you come for us again. Well. I will not run, for it is time we met, you and I, in Combat.
    In the pale wash of first light, the sky a feathered shell of mother-of-pearl, Ronin leaned hard on the wheel.
    Sunrise flew to starboard as the bow swung round, describing the beginning of its long arc, and shortly it pointed directly at the sail of their sister ship.
    Prepare yourself now, Ronin called silently to Freidal. Time has almost run down.
    They closed with terrifying swiftness, Ronin guiding his craft from out of the southeast quarter. The contours of the other ship bloomed abruptly from harmless toy size in the strengthening light. The day was overcast, with layers of stratified cloud, white in the sunrise. A strange light fell across the scene, oblique and somehow harsh as the sun crept over the horizon, so that every edge had a sword-blade shadow and all shapes turned angular.
    He could discern now dark figures on the deck of the sister ship, dark robes fluttering thickly, white faces staring intently at him. Then there was the briefest flash of cold light, thin as a bolt, and his gaze swung to the tall slender figure at the bow. He knew even without the coalescence of features that it was Freidal. The Security Saardin’s false eye had caught the light of the rising sun as it broke momentarily from the gray cloud cover, reflecting it back at him.
    Ronin swung farther into the quarter, turning, feeling the adrenaline rising in him now that he was sure that it was Freidal who pursued them, turning until he ran parallel to the other felucca. They sped now across the ice sea linked together more surely than if they were physically one vessel.
    Ronin watched, outwardly impassive, as Freidal went slowly aft until he was near midship. The right eye, the real eye glared at him.
    “Of course you were behind this,” Freidal called across the frozen expanse as the ships drifted closer. “I have come for you, sir; you and the Magic Man. He willfully escaped my custody.” Ronin’s eyes roved the other ship. How many? “You were taken from me but I still have many questions to ask you.” Certainly two daggam. Were there more below? “The Surface is forbidden to all of the Freehold. I am charged with your return.” They will be the best Bladesmen under his command; he will not underestimate me now. “The Saardin wish to question you.” Discount the scribe, writing tablet strapped to his wrist, stylus scratching across its face, recording for Freidal. “Unfortunately, neither of you shall survive the journey back. I am no longer concerned with where you were or what you were doing.” His good eye blinked and burned. “My daggam are sacrosanct; no one attacks them without being charged with the consequences. You broke Marcsh’s back. Now you will pay. Death without honor awaits you, sir!”
    Ronin heard a shout aboard ship, saw Borros’ head and shoulders emerging from the cabin’s hatch.
    “Oh, Frost, they have caught us!”
    Ronin was fed up. “Get below,” he yelled. “And stay there until I come for you!”
    The Magic Man stared at the tall figure of the Security Saardin, so close now over the narrowing slice of ice, transfixed with terror at the glowering visage.
    “You shall die now, sir!” Freidal called.
    “Get below!” Ronin shouted once more and the figure disappeared. The hatch slammed shut.
    The twin ships raced on before the wind, and now Freidal motioned to the daggam and they lifted cables with black metal hooks, swung them over their heads, hurled them toward him. They hit the deck and they hauled on the cables, the hooks scraping across the deck until they