CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FOUR

At that very moment, unbeknownst to Captain Trangle and his crew, their sovereign stood on a rocky plateau far across the sea to the west, surrounded by a small army of his rats as he squared off against the equally formidable squadron of his negotiating partners.

Talarek was at his side, of course, filling in for Malvarkis, who'd stayed behind at Terramort to ensure the Palace Guard remained loyal in Tratton's absence. At the Searat King's other side, sharing his presence with considerably less enthusiasm, stood Governor Martinoy and his wife Centrella, looking as if they'd rather be anywhere else on Talaga just then.

Across the barren ground from the searat representatives, arrayed in a fidgety, ruffling, occasionally fluttering half-circle of their own were the winged allies Tratton so desperately sought.

Cormorants. The creatures who held uncontested dominion over the island's desolate, undeveloped western half. Nearly twice as large as seagulls, and even more vicious in temperament. They were the main reason searats seldom ventured to the windward side of Talaga, not that much of use or interest was to be found there, but the cormorants seemed content to hold it for their own, using the spaces between the crags as their rookeries and fiercely defending their territory against any who would encroach. Subsisting largely on fish and other seafood, they really had no reason to range over into the searats' side of the isle - not that this ever stopped them from doing just that on occasion, foraging into the woods and croplands to supplement their diets with the odd nuts, berries and cultivated produce. That was about the only time birds and rats came into contact with one another - that, and when Tratton's captains and crews decided to engage in a little target practice or go hunting for some fresh meat to put on their tables.

That practice had recently ended, by royal decree and under pain of death. It might not have been enough, in and of itself, to win the alliance with these hook-beaked terrors, but it had gone a long way toward luring them here to this elevated nobeast's land straddling Talaga's competing regions.

Grabbrack, leader of his kind on Talaga through sheer brutality, held his place amidst scores of his feathered brethren just as Tratton stood bolstered by a large phalanx of armed supporters. Additional cormorants wheeled and screeched overhead, ready to drop down and engage at the first sign of treachery from the land beasts.

At the fore of the rats stood Torabi, the latest of Spymaster Uroza's head negotiators with Grabbrack's flock, and the only one to literally still have her head. It was through the efforts of her and her ill-fated predecessors that this summit had finally come off, and if the cormorants still didn't trust the rats, she was the one they'd come to distrust the least.

Grabbrack's baleful gaze went back and forth between Torabi, Tratton, Martinoy and Centrella, intently studying the one rodent he knew and the three he didn't, measuring them even as he remained alert for any false move of their part.

Negotiations had yet to commence. Martinoy swallowed nervously while Centrella wrung her paws in unconscious anxiety. "Did you really need us to be here, Majesty? We're no ambassadors, or diplomats, or parleyers. I'm afraid our skills won't add much to what ye're lookin' for here."

"Yes, Governor," Tratton said sharply, loudly and clearly, so that Grabbrack would be sure to hear, "I most certainly do want you here. As the longtime rulers of Talaga, it will fall to you to ensure smooth relations with our winged allies. It will be incumbent upon you to make this arrangement work. Certain promises have been made, and your roles in fulfilling them will be key." He looked meaningfully to Grabbrack. "Most key indeed - as I'm sure our hoped-for partners will agree."

The cormorant chieftain glared at Tratton, whom he'd now fixed upon as the one in charge of these rats - the high king Torabi had told him to expect. "Whaddya want?" he cawed in a dominant, screeching, keening rasp.

"You know what I want. I need fighters. Fighters who can fly. My enemy is great, and he has flying warriors of his own." Tratton paused for effect. "Sea ... gulls."

This evoked the desired reaction. The intelligence collected by Torabi and Uroza's other envoys here had revealed that the cormorants viewed gulls as their natural rivals over the sea, and inferior ones at that. If anything, it seemed they detested the gulls even more than they did rats, and the promise of engaging them in an actual war - with strong odds of winning, and a powerful ally at their side - was, Tratton knew, one of the chief drawing cards which had persuaded them to attend this meeting.

"Gulls! Gulls! Kreeeack! Skyscum, seascum! Smashem, smashem, strike from sky! Killem all, killem all!"

Tratton fought to keep from smiling broadly, even as Martinoy and Centrella took unwitting steps backward at this explosive enmity, as if suddenly realizing they were in the presence of a madbird - one large enough to cause them serious physical harm.

"Yes, my enemy has many gulls. Join me, and I will help you kill as many as you like. And then the skies and seas will belong to you."

Grabbrack settled down somewhat. "Good start, good start. What else?"

"I've already ordered that your flock no longer be hunted, for food or for sport. You have seen this yourself. Become my ally, and you and your kin will never again fall prey to the arrows of my kind."

"Not enough. Too many dead already, summer past summer past summer. Need blood for blood. Rat lives to answer for our lives."

Martinoy bristled at this suggestion, while Centrella blanched. "That's .. that's outrageous!"

"Be quiet, Governor."

Martinoy promptly shut up.

"The Governor here does have a point," Tratton said to Grabbrack. "Several of my rats who were sent to negotiate in good faith with you now lie dead. It speaks as a testament to how seriously I want this alliance that I kept sending rats to treat with you, and even now am willing to overlook those unfortunate sacrifices for the sake of future cooperation between us."

"We kill few in one season, you kill many many many, summer sun and winter storm. Must be more. Blood for blood, creeekah!"

"So, you seek ... restitution?"

Grabbrack stared wordlessly at Tratton; if Torabi had briefed the bird chieftain to expect this term to come up here today, apparently it had not stayed in his brain.

Tratton tried again. "You want repayment. More rats given to you, in answer for your birds slain by us."

"Yes! Yesyesyes!"

"Very well. A not unreasonable demand. And if I agree to this, will we have our alliance? Will you and your birds fly into battle with me against our common enemy?"

Martinoy and his wife looked on, he slack-jawed and she with her mouth pressed into a thin grim line, each aghast that such provisions were even being seriously considered. The few of their own house guard they'd brought with them to this rendezvous glanced around nervously, but Talarek and Tratton's much larger contingent of Royal Guard, bolstered by crewrats from the Darktide, seemed at ease and quite accepting of this turn in the negotiations, almost as if they'd expected it.

"Yesyesyes. You give rats, prove what you mean, then we have alliance!"

"Agreed - on one condition. I get to choose the rats."

Martinoy relaxed slightly at this, as a crafty smile lifted the corners of his mouth. So this was what His Majesty had been alluding to over dinner the night before, when he'd spoken of finding a use for all the land rats Urthblood had forced upon them. A brilliant strategy - he was surprised he'd not figured it out for himself sooner.

Now it was Grabbrack's turn to mull over terms. "You chief rat over all other rats?"

"Yes. I am."

"All others below you, do what you say?"

"If they want to live, yes."

"Wellthen. You choose rats to give us - after first choice. I make that."

"As you wish. Say who you would choose, and I will decide whether it is agreeable to me."

Grabbrack's smoldering, malevolent gaze went to Martinoy. "Want chief of island, who has killed my kind three summers and more!"

Martinoy's smile disappeared, the Governor clearly appalled that this barbarian would even dare voice such an outrage. "Well, there you have it, Yer Majesty. There's no reasoning with creatures like this. This whole affair's been a waste of - "

"Agreed."

For a moment Martinoy assumed Tratton had cut him off in his haste to concur, and present a common front to the savage cormorants just how beyond the pale the bird's request was. But then he realized with a shock that the Searat King had addressed not him, but Grabbrack.

The cormorant's vengeful glare went to Centrella, who now visibly trembled at her husband's side. "Want mate too, for mates killed by their rats."

"You ask much, Chieftain. I would be coldhearted indeed to concede to such a request."

"Give both, then we have deal."

"As you wish."

Martinoy's eyes bulged. "Sire! Majesty! What're you - "

Tratton's fighters moved before Martinoy's own guard could realize their immediate peril, turning arrows which had been nocked against possible cormorant aggression on their fellow rats instead. Within moments, all of the Governor's house guards lay transfixed by treacherous shafts, leaving Martinoy and Centrella quite alone amidst their enemies on all side.

"I am sorry, Governor," Tratton said with something approaching genuine remorse, "but Urthblood is too great a threat, and this alliance too important to fail. Sacrifices needed to be made; I'm sure you and the Governess will understand." He turned back to Grabbrack. "They're all yours, Chieftain. Do with them as you please. But after them, you choose no more, and will be happy with the rats I give you."

"Yes." Grabbrack's triumphant, possessive gaze fastened on Martinoy and Centrella, now pinioned by a quartet of Tratton's retinue. "Will be happy."

With the doomed former Governor and his wife shrieking and wailing and pleading in terrified desperation, Tratton turned and led the remainder of his force down from the plateau, Torabi at his side. "You do realize, Majesty," the female spyrat ventured, "the way those savages fight amongst themselves, that brute you just treated with might not even be in power by season's end."

"We're allies now, Torabi. We'll give him whatever he needs to stay in power. Because it is now in his interest ... and ours. But, if he should fall, then it will be up to you to establish ties with their new leader, since you are the one they've most come to trust."

Torabi swallowed nervously, not at all enamored of such a prospect, and not entirely sure she could survive another round of such negotiations. "Yes, Sire."

From Tratton's other side, Talarek asked, "You envision no problems with the surrender of the Governor and his wife, and the appointment of a replacement?"

"All the rest of his house guards down in Talaga Village will have to be executed at once, of course - they simply can't be trusted. Never pays to allow any armed element in the Empire to form a close working bond to any of my commanders. But Fort Ballaster remains a military garrison outside gubernatorial control or influence - Uroza has always seen to that - and the mere threat of unleashing those troops upon the village will keep anyrat from complaining too vociferously about Martinoy."

"I suppose you are right, Majesty, tho' I'll stick close to your side until the transition's complete."

"You forget, Talarek, I don't plan to be here that long."

"Yes, of course, Majesty."

Tratton idly regarded the clear blue sky overhead. "Martinoy and Centrella - they had ratlings, didn't they?"

It was Torabi who answered. "Aye, Sire. Son, daughter, an' a babe too."

"Have them collected and delivered to Grabbrack as well - an extra gift to demonstrate my largess. I can't very well have any vengeance-seeking whelps growing up with a grudge to settle and a vendetta against me or my heir, now can I?"

00000000000

"So, how did Captain Voccola receive news of his promotion to Governor?"

"With a certain measure of forced cheer, I am sure. What capable ship's captain would prefer to give up his vessel and crew for a landbound appointment, even if it is to be steward of one of the most important isles in the Empire? But Voccola possesses the perfect blend of traits for this position, I feel. For all of his hardbitten seafarer's gruff and penchant for running a tight ship, I've always sensed a definite ostentatiousness to him as well. As much as he bears down on his crew to perform well, he also can't resist a display, any excuse for pomp and ceremony ... "

"Yes, I noticed that myself when I landed in the Deeprunner. He insisted upon equal polish to blades and boots."

"In spite of his more pompous leanings, I trust him to favor the blade over the boot. Martinoy was never half the fighter Voccola or most of my other captains are, and my reward to him of a soft assignment for his early loyalties only made him softer. And as for his wife, she combined the unfortunate characteristics of social-climbing ambitions without the spine or the teeth to be properly ruthless about it - not that I could have tolerated too much of that, either. They'd grown far too comfortable here, come to take their good fortune too much for granted. Fortunately, their mercenary attitudes toward the cormorants made them them uniquely qualified scapegoats, and the perfect concession with which to seal the deal with Grabbrack."

"Fortunate for you, you mean. Not so fortunate for them, was it?"

Tratton and Regelline sat on the second-story veranda of the Governor's mansion overlooking calm and placid Talaga Bay, the royal couple separated by only the small circular wrought-iron cocktail table they shared. Trushar and Talarek and all their other servants and functionaries no doubt lingered within shouting range, the waiters ready to wait and the protectors ever-vigilant for any potential threat to their King and Queen. Midday sun lit the streets and rooftops below and the beach, harbor and sea beyond with the squinting brightness of these temperate climes, but here in the shade of the ornate overhang, idyll calm held sway - the calm of momentous chances taken fruitfully, and further chances yet to be taken. This was Tratton's breather between gambits.

"It also helps," the Searat King went on, "that Voccola and Captain Margate have always gotten along well. Now, with one in the Governor's seat and the other in command of Fort Ballaster, we'll have a true working relationship between the military and ceremonial authority on Talaga. Together, they'll see to it that the fates of Martinoy and his family fade to a distant memory in the very near future. Their alliance should speed acceptance of the new order here on Talaga."

"Still, I'm surprised you didn't pick Kirkirt instead. He acquitted himself well during my voyage here, and, more importantly, he has a wife to tie him to Talaga. I'd have thought he'd be the obvious choice."

"Perhaps too obvious? Ever since his miraculous survival during the Keelfang incident last summer, there's been a touch too much of the hero to him ... in the eyes of others, if not his own. I could picture the Governorship ending badly for him. Besides, I have other uses for him at the moment."

"You mean you want to keep him close to you, to keep a watchful eye on him."

"Let's just say I don't think he'll protest too much when he hears of his reassignment, even if it does mean leaving his beloved behind again."

Regelline raised an eyebrow. "You're sending the Deeprunner out on another mission?"

"You will see in good time, my precious one." With a knowing smiled, Tratton regarded his royal consort. "You're still hardly showing. One might never guess you're even carrying."

"Demetria thinks it will most likely be a female. I hope you're not too disappointed, my dearest."

Tratton shrugged. "Malechild or female, it will still be my heir ... and I trust you to help me raise him - or her - to have the heart of stone and nerves of steel to rule in my stead after I am gone, and hold together what I have built."

Regelline shot him a searching glance. "Not planning on going away anytime soon, are we?"

"The life of a Searat King is a perilous and unpredictable existence. Playing it safe can be the most dangerous path of all, and every captain worth his salt knows the value of taking risks."

"Like the one you took this morning, meeting with a legion of berserker birds out for searat blood?"

"Hardly the risk it might appear, with so many of my soldiers at my back and the groundwork Torabi and Uroza's other envoys had laid in preparation for the summit. We promised Grabbrack too much for him to turn down, and I could tell from our very first exchange how his eyes gleamed with eagerness to get his hooked beak into Martinoy's heart. With that prize dangled before him to distract him, I was never in any real danger."

Regelline sipped at her rum punch, the strongest spirit Demetria would allow her. "Mmm - such a shame about their offspring, tho'."

"You know how it works in such situations, my fairest. Always best to end the bloodline entirely, and leave nothing to chance."

"Spoken by the rat who just lectured on the dangers of playing it safe."

"Let's just say I prefer to pick and choose my personal perils with utmost care." A shuffle of pawsteps and rustle of garments through the open doorway at the veranda's end made the two of them look up to see Talarek ushering Kirkirt out onto the covered balcony. "Ah, speaking of our brave captain, here he is now!"

Kirkirt seemed slightly ill at ease as Tratton rose to face him, Talarek retreating several paces to monitor the meeting with impassive alertness. The summoned officer felt he'd done a respectable job of delivering the Queen here to Talaga earlier this season, and of making himself available for her needs - not that she had made any requests of him at all, leaving him free to enjoy his shore leave as he wished. But now, in the wake of what had happened to the Governor's family, no rat on the island breathed easy as all waited to see whether the Searat King's latest purge would stop at one house, or expand to claim more victims.

"You requested my presence, Majesty?"

Tratton got right to business. "I am reassigning you, Captain. I have need of your services elsewhere, so I'm afraid your idyllic respite here ends tomorrow." With the ghost of a smile, he added, "I won't deprive you of one last night with your mate."

"That's ... appreciated, Sire. What's t' be my new assignment ... if I may ask?"

"You may. I am naming you captain of the Darktide."

"The ... Darktide, Majesty? Don't you mean th' Darksky? Now that Voccola's been promoted t' Governor, I just kinda figgered ... "

"Well, you 'figgered' wrong. Voccola's not going anywhere, and neither is the Darksky; time enough to name a new skipper for her, when events allow. My concern now lines with the Darktide."

"Ah. It's just ... well, you captained th' Darktide in yerself, an' I was just assumin' you'd wanna take 'er out that way too, when time comes ... "

"Captain, you should know better by now than to try to anticipate what I mean to do."

Kirkirt stiffened. "Aye, Yer Majesty!"

"We sail on tomorrow's high tide, and I want you at the helm. For the voyage I have in mind, I deem you to possess certain qualities rendering you eminently suitable for the circumstances."

"We?" Kirkirt gulped. "Ye'll be sailing with us, Sire?"

"I will. The Queen speaks highly of your capability displayed during the crossing in the Deeprunner, and I will want no less for my own passage. The dockrats have been seeing to the Darktide's resupply since my arrival yesterday, and I foresee no delays."

"Who'll be sailing with us?"

"The regular crew, of course, along with any of the sailors from the Deeprunner you've grown accustomed to serving with, if you care to invite them. Plus my entire complement of Royal Guard."

This last part hardly surprised Kirkirt; obviously Tratton would not venture forth from Terramort to go anywhere without a sizable body of protectors sworn to safeguard him. Still, the Searat King had brought along a larger-than-usual contingent of these warrior-guards with him to Talaga - which also made sense, considering the peril-fraught negotiations undertaken with the bird savages of western Talaga - so if he was now departing with the full force he'd brought with him, that implied he either meant to return forthwith to Terramort ... or that he planned to sail for waters which might hold dangers equal to the cormorants.

"An' where will we be sailin', Majesty? If it ain't a secret, I mean ... "

"Oh, it's no secret - at least not to you." Kirkirt couldn't help noticing how Regelline leaned slightly forward in her wicker rattan chair to catch her royal counterpart's next words, clearly eager to hear them for herself ... nor could he fail to note her surprise at Tratton's reply, surprise equal to Kirkirt's own.

"We sail for Salamandastron."