Raiders' Ransom Read Online Free Page A

back!
    Everything’s in ruck and noise, servants and slaves running all over. In the kitchens they’re breaking their backs to get the cooking done.
    Coz Father’s home, so we’ll be having a feast!
    The great doors of the main hall — facing east, facing the sea — is pushed open. I run outside; I want to see Father sailing in. But it seems like everyone who’s been left behind — wives and concubines, old men and too young — is already out there on the main deckway. Five, six, seven deep against the railing. I try pushing, try jumping up. But the only person who even gives me a look is Ananda, skank wife of Enrique.
    She just scowls out, “Stop pushing, Zeph, have some respect!”
    â€œRespect you, pig features?” I say, then leg it before she can hit me.
    She would never have spoke to me like that if Mother was still alive.
    I go here and there behind the crowd, but no one’s letting me through. And I need to see Father!
    A thought comes in my head. It’s bad, but it gets right in, not letting go.
    â€œSo what if it’s forbidden?” it says. “Ain’t you the son of the greatest Boss in all the Families?”
    I make sure no one’s checkin’ me, then I pull open the north gate of the wind gallery. Just a crack. Just enough to squeeze through.
    I shut it behind me, and I’m into the dim half-dark of the wind gallery. The spirits will punish me for sure — bad dreams, bad luck, bad skin. And I’ll get a nice beating if Ims catches me. But who cares?
    All four windgates are shut, the red spirit-flags hanging limp, but the willow lattice walls let in light through cracks in the weave. North, all I can see is the crowd on the deckway. South is the marshes, curving away into green. West is the carved wooden walls and high thatched roof of Father’s hall, but east, toward the sea, is all specks of blue — dark sea below, light sky above. And there’s a bit of red.
    Red sails. Father’s dragonboat!
    I get quick to the northeast corner, press my eyes to the gaps. And now, through the blurry pattern of woven willow stems, I can see Father coming home.
    It’s quiet in the wind gallery, even with the whole Family right near me on the deckway. Only the
splash, splash
of water beneath the hall, lapping at the stilt-legs, and the wind spirits brushing and breathing against the wind-gallery walls. But I’m all right, they can’t get inside unless the gates is opened.
    This is a good spot. Through these little holes I can see everything: the seven islands that sit between the hall and the open sea; the sea channels — wide and sky-gleaming now the tide’s full in; the reeds flicking waves of green across the marshes.
    Most important, though, I can see Father’s dragonboat. Red sail billowing, red flags fluttering, shields stacked at her prow. The foredeck’s like a forest of swords; even from in here I can hear the cheers of the warriors.
    Which means success!
    Everyone on the deckway is cheering as well now. But I have to keep my mouth shut — I don’t want Ims finding me. Or worse, the Windspeaker. He’d spike me for sure!
    Father’s ship cuts easy through the water, the dragonhead carved in her prow snarling and showing its teeth.
    â€œMedwin! Medwin! Medwin!” shouts the crowd on the deckway.
    â€œAngel Isling! Angel Isling!” shout the warriors on Father’s warship.
    Boss and Family.
    Which is everything that matters.
    The dragonboat’s red sail is being furled, but she’s still sliding through the water. Thirty long oars lift and pull with a creaking, splashing sound — like insect legs, powering her along. The holes in the lattice wall ain’t showing blue or green now, just the brown and red of Father’s boat. And the shining steel of the warriors’ swords, and the red of their leathers, and the dull gleam of the helmets and armor.