Balen grinned wider, “A dirt foot, eh?”
Aaron frowned “If the gods had meant for us to be in the water they’d have given us gills.”
Balen barked a laugh. “So, where are your friends?”
“I don’t know.”
The first mate nodded and leaned in conspiratorially, “I’d watch her close, friend. It ain’t often the boys get a good lookin’ gal like herself on board. I’ll count us lucky if every one of the damned fools don’t ask for her hand before the day’s out.”
Aaron squashed the sudden, unexplainable anger that welled up at the thought, “Where’s your captain?”
Balen shrugged, “In his cabin, I expect. Sometimes days’ll go by without the Cap comin’ top deck. Other days he’ll work right alongside the lads ‘till they’re gaspin’ like fish out of water. Ain’t never any tellin’ what he’ll do.”
“They’ve got a word for that—crazy.”
The first mate’s companionable demeanor vanished in an instant. “Look, stranger,” he said, his voice gruff, “you seem like an alright sort, and you’re alright by the captain, so I won’t take offense to words spoken out of ignorance. The Cap’s … unique, sure, and he has a way of talkin’ what will turn a man’s head around backwards, but I’ve been with ‘em goin’ on ten years and there ain’t a man breathin’ that I’d rather sail with.”
Aaron considered this then spat over the ship’s rails, watched as it disappeared into the rushing waters below. Suddenly queasy again, he jerked his eyes away. There wasn’t any use making enemies with Balen. Despite all odds, it seemed that the man really did love his captain. Apparently, Leomin wasn’t the only madman on board. “No offense meant, first mate.”
The man nodded, satisfied, and his smile reappeared. He’d just opened his mouth to speak when footsteps sounded behind them and someone said, “Excuse me, sir.” They both turned and saw the cook from the night before.
“Randolph, enough with the sir business,” Balen said, “me and you shared enough water to skip the bullshit, visitors or no.”
The hawk-faced man nodded, and though he smiled, Aaron could see the worry in his eyes, “Of course, Balen. Anyway, I thought you’d want to know that there’s a ship following us. They’re a few days behind, I’d say, but they’re following us just the same. Kurt saw them from the crow’s nest.”
The first mate shot a look at Aaron who shrugged to cover up the cold ball of dread that had started to gather in his stomach, “Doesn’t mean they’re after us, does it?”
“Big ocean,” the hawk-faced man said.
“Aye,” Balen grunted, studying Aaron, “mighty big ocean. You’re right there, Randolph. Well, they’re a few days away. Might be they aren’t nothin’ to do with us,” he gazed behind them thoughtfully, “Might be.”
Aaron turned to the tall, thin man, “I thought your name was Hugh or Howie or something? The cook, right?”
The two men shared a look and grinned before turning back to him. Balen answered, “Captain never has been much for details. Not real good with names and the like.”
Randolph nodded, “Or duties.”
The first mate nodded, rubbing a hand over his unshaven face, “Right. Not much good with those either.”
Aaron raised an eyebrow, “Duties?”
Balen barked a laugh, “Randolph here has been the ship’s second mate for goin’ on eight years.”
The sharp-featured man nodded seriously, “And I can’t cook for shit, but don’t tell the Cap.”
Aaron watched the two men for a moment, waiting for them to laugh. When they didn’t, he shook his head in amazement. It was a wonder that the men were still alive with such a captain.
“I know what you’re thinkin’,” Randolph said, “but you’re wrong. The captain gets a little confused, sure, but I’d guess he’s just about the best damned sailor that ever lifted an oar—not that he does a lot of that, mind.”
Balen nodded, “Me and the kid here would have been friendly with the fishes years ago if not for the Cap.”
Randolph took in Aaron’s confused expression and smiled, “Balen means that we’d be dead. You see, lots of folks think there’s not much to sailing besides tugging on ropes, and drinking ourselves into a stupor when we’re on land leave, but they’re wrong. Not that we don’t do some of that, you understand, but that’s not all there is. You see, Sheza is a temperamental goddess. Why, between pirates, sea monsters, and good old fashioned dumb-assery there’s thousands of ways a man can die on the water.”
Aaron frowned. “That’s comforting.”
The first mate barked a laugh, “Ain’t nothin’ to worry about, friend, not so long as the captain’s here. Why, that man ain’t met a pirate he couldn’t outrun or outsmart, a stupid mistake he couldn’t turn to his good, or a sea monster he wouldn’t spit in the face of before he showed it our back ‘end and made it eat our dust. Metaphorically speaking.”
Randolph nodded solemnly, “There’s not a lot of dust in the ocean,” he said to Aaron by way of explanation.
“Yeah, I got that.” Strange. He would have thought that the men would have been driven damned near to murder by the captain’s erratic behavior and penchant for useless conversation but instead they seemed to trust him completely. Maybe they just got used to it, he mused. If that was the case, he prayed to Sheza, mermaid goddess of sailors and boats, that he wouldn’t have to spend enough time with the man to find out; he’d sooner get used to a blade in the gut than the unbalanced Parnen. “Does all of the crew feel this way about the captain?”
Balen shrugged, “Couldn’t say. This batch here’s new.” As if reminded, he leaned away for a second, “Trim the jib you lazy bastards, the wind’s changin’!” Several men rushed to the task, but Aaron noticed a few sullen looks when the first mate turned back. “Anyway, these fellas is hardly wet behind the ears.”
Randolph laughed, “Shit, they’re still shakin’ the dust off their boots, I’d say.” Balen grunted in agreement.
“Why a new crew?” Aaron asked curiously, “If the man’s such a good captain, I would think that his men would want to keep working for him.”
The two men’s expressions grew grim, and Balen hocked and spat over the side of the ship. “High Prince Belgarin, that’s why. A couple of months ago, the Cap decided to make the run to Baresh. It’s a dangerous trip to the north—with the wars, a man never knows what he’ll run into—and few are the captains that’ll dare it. Belgarin’s got the place sealed up tighter than a duck’s ass. I tried to talk the captain out of it. After all, the high prince ain’t exactly known for his mercy, and we both knew he wouldn’t take kindly to any sailors dumb enough to test those waters, but he wouldn’t hear none of it.”
Balen’s gaze grew distant as he recounted the memories, “I tried to tell him that it weren’t worth the risk—after all, the north never has been known for its riches. Keeper, we coulda made twice as much and traveled half the distance if we’da taken the supplies to Telasia or Akren. The Telasian’s ain’t much for fightin’—shit, they didn’t even put up a fuss after their ruler, Geoffrey’s death, but they’re all for primpin’—not that Geoffrey was much different from what I hear. Not a big lady’s man, our dearly departed Prince.” He said with a wink, “Nah, powders, perfumes, and silks’ll damned near bring a fortune there, and Ophasia’s Akrenese ain’t much better.”
Aaron frowned, “So why do it?”
The two sailors glanced at each other and shrugged. “That’s what I asked the captain,” Balen said, “I mean, what reason does a crew of smugglers have to go swimmin’ with sharks like Belgarin and the rest? Best not to get mixed up in it, I told him, no matter how good the payoff was. A dead man spends no coins, and that’s the truth.”
Aaron raised an eyebrow, “Smugglers, eh? And here I took you for a crew of simple sailors.”
Balen grinned, “Smuggling you and your friends, ain’t we? Anyway, the captain weren’t about to be dissuaded, he was clear on that.” He
noticed Aaron’s doubtful expression and shrugged, “Well, as clear as he ever is anyway.”
Aaron considered this for a moment, “That still doesn’t explain why Leomin would risk his crew and his own life on the trip.”
The first mate nodded, “Right enough. Now don’t get the wrong notion, mister. A lot of times the captain’s ideas sound like about the craziest tavern tale a whore ever told.” He shook his head, a small smile on his face, “So crazy—at times—a man’d have to have a deathwish to follow ‘em, but you know what? They always seem to work out. No matter how cracked the idea sounds, we always seem to come out the other side not just breathin’, but a damn sight richer than we was ‘for we went in. Still, bringin’ goods to the northerners sounded too much like pickin’ sides to me—one of the best ways for a smuggler to get his fool head lopped off—and I told the Cap so.” The man met Aaron’s gaze, “Do you know what he told me?”
“No,” Aaron said, leaning forward, interested despite himself, “what?”
The man’s grin widened, “I ain’t got a damned clue. Ain’t you ever heard the man talk? No, I ain’t got no idea what he said, but I think I got a pretty good idea of what he meant by it. I think what the captain meant, more or less, was that, sooner or later, if a man didn’t pick sides, a side was gonna pick him anyway. Least this way, we got to make the decision ourselves.”
“Still, he decided to put it to the crew, let ‘em decide for themselves. Said he wadn’t gonna have no ghosts hauntin’ him on account of he didn’t give them their fair choice. They said—shit, we said, that whatever the captain decided was good enough for us. You see, they was good lads, and we’d all heard the stories. We all knew that them folks in the north were starvin’. Down to eatin’ beans and boot leather, what with Belgarin’s ships patrolling the waters, keepin’ honest traders out. We ain’t priests or saints mind—bout as far from it as you can get truth be told—but it’s one thing to thumb your nose at pompous nobles and their import taxes; it’s another to let folks starve to death when you maybe could do something about it.”
The first mate shrugged, self-consciously, “Not that that was all of it. Shit, probably not even most of it. The captain said we was going, and so we was going. That was all that needed to be said. So we set out and after a while we met up with a couple of Belgarin’s ships.”
“You got caught.”
The man grinned again, “Those boys couldn’t sail for shit. We split ‘em, put ol’ Clandestine’s nose in the wind, and left ‘em flappin’. Naw, we made it to Baresh, alright. Eladen weren’t there, or if he was, his Royal Highness didn’t see fit to grace us with his presence. Some man by the name o’ Deckard brought some soldiers up and took care of getting the food out to those as needed it—the common folk in the city and surrounding countryside. The nobles complained, ‘o course, but any man with the eyes the gods gave ‘em could see that the fat bastards weren’t goin’ hungry—if there’s one thing to know about nobles, it’s that they’ll always eat. Yes sir, they bitched and moaned up a storm, but that Deckard fella weren’t havin’ none of it. He sent the bastards runnin’ like there was a sale on silk.” He nodded approvingly, “A good fella that.”
“Anyway, we made it out o’ port and were about a week out when we ran into ‘em, three or four of the big busters, Belgarin’s best ships, waitin’ on us like they knew what route we’d take. Weren’t no way to get away from ‘em, not then, and they escorted us to some back water port I still can’t remember the name of. Threw all of us ‘sept the Cap in cells; him they took off alone. The man in charge—a real fat bastard by the name of Fritz or Ferg, I can’t rightly recall—said that we was all to be questioned and then set free. I reckon we all knew it for a lie even before the guards started leadin’ the lads off one by one to ask their “questions.”
Balen paused then, and the silence stretched so taut that Aaron imagined he could hear it vibrating. When the first mate finally spoke, his voice was rough and slightly hoarse, “A long week that. Couldn’t hear much down in that dungeon, but from time to time, you could make out one of the lads screamin’ as those boys asked ‘em their questions.” He spat the last word and made a face as if he’d just swallowed some foul brew. “I figure I was about a quarter hour from lettin’ go and pissin’ myself like some kid sailor in his first bad blow when the Cap showed up out of nowhere. One minute I was tryin’ to keep myself from blubberin’, the next he was there at the door of the cell, holdin’ his finger over his lips. He had a key—gods know how he got it—and he let us out.”
“Me and Randolph here was in the same cell—the fat man was savin’ the officers for last—and we followed the Cap as he led us out of the dungeon past a pair of unconscious guards.” Balen sighed heavily and wiped a hairy arm across his eyes, “I guess I’d like to say I thought we were comin’ back for the boys, but I knew better. The Cap was doin’ all he could to get us out, sneakin’ us past the fat man’s soldiers and out of the buildin’. There just weren’t no way to save the rest of ‘em, and the truth is I was too damned scared to worry about anybody but myself.” He cleared his throat roughly, “Too damned scared.”
He paused then, his eyes reflecting the deep emotion that the memory brought. “As for the boys, they had to known the score well as we did—but they didn’t make a sound. Not a one. Strange when you consider that one of ‘em had to have told Belgarin’s fat man what route we’d take. No way he would have found us otherwise—like Randolph says, it’s a big ocean. Anyway, the Cap led us to some dump of an inn, fed us, and paid the owner for a week’s stay. After that, he disappeared and didn’t come back for days. My guess is that he meant to go back for the lads and judgin’ by the grim look on his face when he returned, I don’t guess he did too well on that score—not that I could promise ya for sure. He never told me, and I never asked. Scared to, I reckon.”
“All of it past that’s a bit fuzzy. All I know is that somehow the Cap got a crew together—not a familiar face among them—we waited till night, and we stole the Clandestine back right out from under the fat man’s nose.” He frowned then, and his eyes were suddenly blazing with anger, “I hope Belgarin’s got some serious questions for that bastard, I surely do. Hope he asks ‘em hard, too. Damned hard.”
Aaron shook his head in stunned disbelief. He didn’t know a lot of smugglers, but the ones he did know would have sold their kin into slavery if they thought they could make a profit off the deal. The thought of the crew of a smuggler ship risking their lives to feed some starving people they wouldn’t know if they passed them on the street was almost more than he could fathom. As for Captain Leomin? Well, if everything Balen said was true, the man was certainly more than he pretended to be. Which begged the question. Why? Why the pretense of idiocy? Why risk his life to save strangers? “So you came back to Avarest?” He asked, “To the Downs?”
“And left the boys,” Balen said, wiping at his eyes. “I don’t guess I’ll ever see ‘em again. Not old Carl with his breath that smelled o’ shit and worse, or Jamie Wuthers, neither.” He glanced back at Randolph and gave a laugh choked with emotion, “That boy’d caught just about every disease a woman could give a man I reckon. Made a regular study of it.”
Randolph’s eyes, too, were glistening with unshed tears, and he nodded before turning to Aaron. “Yes, we went to Avarest. After all, the city is one of the few places left in Telrear that’s neutral—or claims to be, anyway. As for the Downs, why not? What better place for a group of wanted, hunted smugglers to run to than a place where almost everyone’s a criminal? What better place for us to hide from the world than in a part of it where no decent man or woman wants to look, let alone go?”
“So you were still hiding—“
“When you came.” Randolph nodded once, “Yes. We’d suggested some ideas to the captain, but he hadn’t really listened. He’s been … different of late.”
“It’s ‘cause of the lads,” Balen whispered, “You wouldn’t know it by the way he acts, but I
think leavin’ the lads hurt the captain more than it did any of us.”
Randolph nodded, “True. In a way, I’m glad you and your friends showed up. I was beginning to think we never would leave the Downs, that maybe the captain had decided to stay here, drinking and whoring the years away in an effort to forget about the crew he’d lost, about the men he hadn’t been able to save. But when you showed up with those papers, well, it was like the old captain came back all of a sudden.”
Aaron glanced over at Balen and saw that the man’s eyes were watery and his jaw was working as if he were chewing on something. He guessed that the man probably hadn’t cried since he was young enough to piss the bed and get away with it, but here he was barely holding it together. What did you say to a man like that? What could you say? Better, maybe, to say nothing at all.
You could say you were sorry, Co said in his mind, and he could hear the anger and sadness he felt at the pointlessness of it all mirrored in her voice.
Sorry doesn’t change anything, firefly. The dead stay dead, and the bastards like Belgarin keep breathing. It’s the way the world works. Sorry isn’t enough.
It’s something.
Aaron sighed inwardly and gripped the first mate’s shoulder awkwardly, “I’m sorry about your friends.”
“Preciate that,” Balen said, snorting and wiping a hand across his eyes. “I surely do.” He looked embarrassedly around the ship at the sailors busy about their business and cleared his throat. “Well, guess I’d better see to this batch, ‘less you all don’t mind winding up stuck in the side of some damned mountain, that is.” He nodded to Aaron and walked off, bawling out commands at the nearest sailors who hurried to follow orders.
When Aaron turned back to the second mate, Randolph was watching him strangely. “Well,” The hawk-faced man said finally, “I guess I’d best be about my own business.”
Aaron watched him go before turning back to the ocean, to the deep blue water that stretched on into eternity, to the waves that lapped against the boat. The sun was bright and warm against his skin, and he could just make out the sound of some water bird, with which he was unfamiliar, cawing and hooting in the distance. He sighed heavily. He felt sick, but it wasn’t from the rolling of the deck underfoot anymore. An entire crew of men dead all because of some prick noble and what’s changed? Nothing. Not one damned thing. The sun still rose, the waves still crashed, men still died, and the world grew older, not caring one way or the other.
A Sellsword's Compassion_Book One of the Seven Virtues Page 14
