Boghaz wailed. “Highness, I implore you! I would tell if I could but I know nothing. I swear it!”
She shrugged. “Perhaps not. In that case you will wish to persuade your comrade to talk.”
She turned again to Scyld. “Tell Callus also to douse the tall one with sea water, as often as he needs it.” Her white teeth glinted. “It has a healing property.”
Scyld laughed.
Ywain motioned him to go. “See that they’re kept at it but on no account is either one to die. When they’re ready to talk bring them to me.”
Scyld saluted and marched his prisoners back again to the rowers’ pit. Jaxart was taken off the oar and the endless nightmare of the dark hours continued for Carse.
Boghaz was crushed and trembling. He screamed mightily as he took his five strokes and then moaned in Carse’s ear, “I wish I’d never seen your bloody sword! She’ll take us to Caer Dhu—and the gods have mercy on us.”
Carse bared his teeth in what might have been a grin. “You talked differently in Jekkara.”
“I was a free man then and the Dhuvians were far away.”
Carse felt some deep and buried nerve contract at the mention of that name. He said in an odd voice, “Boghaz, what was that smell in the cabin?”