"Gah. Smells like rotten apples." The young Mechanist spoke overloud, as if trying to comfort himself in the dark room. "Lina, you don't think your captain will take us through the Stormwall again, do you?" He shuddered.
"No," replied Lina. "I overheard him talking with Lucian. We're bound for Breachtown as fast as the propellers can take us. There's an opening there we can use to get out to the Atalian Sea, and then back home. Dawnhawk's a good ship. No need to threaten her in that mess, aye? Especially since we don't have to worry about being chased anymore. No way Natasha will get after us again, and the Queen is pretty much done for."
The Mechanist digested this, then he nodded. "Well ... good. But there aren't any aetherlines that run up toward Breachtown. It's going to take a few days trip, and there are still all sorts of weird, dangerous creature out here." He shuddered. "I've heard tales."
Lina ignored him. She crept between the stacked barrels, sloshing the container of Cure-all back and forth.
Something made a noise.
Lina paused. She shook the hip flask, sending a pungent vapor of liquor wafting about. "Hey, there. Hey there you runty little monster. Are you back here?"
The noise came again, from the far side of the room. There the casks met the rounded walls of the airships hull to make a small space. Lina crept up softly toward it. She made soft but obvious sounds and kept up a constant stream of low-grade baby talk.
Lina walked up to the last row of barrels and stopped. The shuffling noise echoed out from behind the barrels. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind. This is madness. Worse, it's stupid. How do I know it won't just attack me? The scryn had actually done that, until she'd gotten it drunk. She took a breath. Ah well. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. And the creature really seemed to like the Corsair's Cure-all. She turned the corner, smiling.
A pirate stared back at her.
He was only average height, but bulky. A round gut strained beneath his sweat-stained shirt, open down to the middle of his chest. His beard was thin and his hair long and wild. He stared at her like a cornered animal.
The pirate leapt at her with a snarl. Surprised, Lina yelled. She pulled instinctively back as the man rammed into the casks to her right. His outstretched hand grabbed at her shoulder and just missed, still slamming her hard enough to spin her around as she dodged. Lina fell to the wooden floor.
"What's going on?" asked Allen plaintively. "What was that noise?"
"Get help!" yelled Lina. She didn't recognize the pirate. He must have been one of Natasha's Reavers, hidden belowdecks when they'd taken the ship.
"Shut up!" snarled the pirate. "Shut yer yap, you whore!"
He leapt at her from where he'd fallen. His bulk landed on her legs, trapping her feet while he grabbed at her head. She yelled out again and blocked him.
"I'm coming, Lina!" yelled Allen. The light at the back of the room grew momentarily brighter, then stopped, shaking madly as he got caught in the first path back through the barrels. The young Mechanist cursed.
Allen would be useless in a fight. No, you idiot. Go get help!
The pirate was crawling on top of her, still grabbing at her face. He aimed clumsy blows at her head, but she was quick. Even though she was trapped, she ducked and weaved and bucked away from them. Lina knew she couldn't keep that up for long though.
She needed a weapon. The way he flailed, she couldn't risk grabbing for the heavy dagger at her belt, one she'd yet to return to Henry Smalls. Worse, it was trapped between her hip and the wooden decking. She realized she still held the hip flask in one hand. The contents splashed everywhere, mostly on the pirate.
Metal's metal. Lina ducked a clumsy blow and went on the offensive. She grabbed the pirate around one forearm and pulled it aside, just enough so that she could lash out at his head with her impromptu weapon. It landed with a thunk that jarred her arm and cut his eyebrow. She lost her grip on the flask and it fell, splashing Cure-all everywhere. The pirate screamed as the burning liquor seeped into his eyes. He scrabbled backwards, clutching at his face.
Lina moved, too. She crawled away from him, between the barrels and back toward Allen. The pirate growled behind her and she whirled, sitting up, drawing her dagger in a smooth motion and holding it before her.
Natasha's Reaver had his back to the hull, facing her. He pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes, groaning. Pulling them away, he glared blearily at her. The skin around his eyes was swollen and puffy. Blood seeped down his face in a steady stream from the cut on his eyebrow.
"You bitch," he gasped. A dark look came over his features. He sat up to kneel, growling low in his throat. Lina swallowed; before, he wanted to quiet her. Now their fight had changed.
A red light bloomed from atop the barrels above them. It shifted slowly, illuminating Lina and the pirate before her. She looked up to see the wide underbelly of a scryn.
The creature leapt. It screamed as it landed on the pirate, its manta-wings wrapping around his forehead. The man yelled and threw up his hands. It did no good. The scryn wrapped itself tight and lashed out with the sting on its tail whenever the pirate tried to grab it.
Behind her the barrels shifted. Some fell down in the paths off to the side. Warm yellow light illuminated the scene as Allen bulled through to stand above Lina.
"Lina! Oh good Goddess above!"
The enemy pirate stilled, his arms swollen from the poison of the scryn. Abruptly, the creature released him and he curled into a sobbing, bleeding ball. The serpentine creature flapped back from him to land on the deck between Lina and the pirate. It was covered in blood. The thing curled its wings around its body and sat upright.
"Chirr!" it said, happily. It flowed forward onto Lina's legs, then her chest and back. She held herself very still as it wrapped itself around her again, snuffling greedily at the hand that had held the flask.
Moving slowly, she picked the metal container up from the floor where it had fallen. The scryn perked up and she tipped the opening towards it. The scryn latched on greedily, like a baby with a bottle.
"Runt," she said quietly.
"What?" said Allen. The Brother of the Cog was almost beside himself in horror.
"I'm going to name him Runt," she said.
The pirate was still alive, amazingly. Runt calmed, drunk immediately off of the dregs of the flask and what it had sucked off of Natasha's Reaver. Lina sent Allen out to find the first crewmember he could. A few minutes later he returned with Ryan Gae.
Her friend leapt back in the doorway, fumbling at the cutlass at his side. "Lina! Get away from that!"
Lina held up her free hand. Runt was laying across her shoulders again, rumbling like a cat in contentment. "No, Ryan," she said. "This is the one from earlier, remember?" She beamed. "I'm keeping him. I named him Runt."
Ryan stared at her. His mouth pursed beneath his scruffy black beard. "Lina, you saw what happened. Those little monsters are dangerous."
Lina sighed. "Look, it's docile at the moment, and that's not why I had Allen go find you." She stepped aside so that he could see the unconscious, wounded pirate. "This fellow attacked me. I think he's one of Natasha's Reavers."
Ryan quieted immediately. "Stay right here," he said quietly. "I'm going to go get the gunnery mistress. You too, Mechanist."
Her friend drew his cutlass and shoved Allen into the small room, then left to go get more help. Sarah Lome arrived with him a few minutes later, and from the shouts up the hall it sounded like searches were being made of the remaining storerooms on this level. The huge piratess said nothing, only hoisted the Reaver over her shoulder and hauled him up to the deck. Lina followed, rubbing her pet on its sinuous neck just behind its head. The creature seemed to like the gesture, and belched contentedly now and again.
The Dawnhawk floated across the night sky of the Yulan. Darkness encompassed them, broken only by the pinprick lights of the stars and the few low lanterns lit on the deck of the ship. The Stormwall was somewhere to the west, the wreck of th
e Albatross hours to the south. The moon had yet to rise. It was warm here; each little breeze was more pleasant and cooling than it had been out over the sea. It smelled different, not briny, but instead carrying a rich scent of earth from the impenetrable jungle below. So many little things told them they were strangers here, tourists in this land.
Crewmen moved quietly about the ship. A few low gas-lamps had been lit in standing braziers along the centerline of the ship. Both shifts were out; having recaptured the Dawnhawk, any sense of urgency was lost. Those without obvious duties were belowdecks in the hold, counting the treasure from the Albatross.
Ryan, Sarah Lome, and two others hauled the stung Reaver up towards the captain at the bow of the ship. The three of them kept stealing looks back at her and her new pet; Gunny Lome shoved their captive forward. This might damage her standing with the crew a little, but Lina didn't particularly care. Runt was hers.
They reached the bow. Fengel stood there leaning over the gunwales and peering at something down below. Henry Smalls stood by, Fengel's faithful right hand, as always. Three stout pirates stood nearby, hands on a set of ropes tied off to a cleat down on the deck. The ropes ran over the bow. Lina heard faint yelling from that direction.
"Now, now," said Fengel in exasperation. "Don't all shout at once. What, are you a howling mob of ruffians and cut-throats? Let's start again. How much of that loot was left behind? What happened to the survivors of the Albatross?"
Sarah Lome dumped the pirate from below onto the deck with a thump. Fengel glanced over his shoulder at her. She threw her thick red braid back over her shoulder, then raised an eyebrow at him.
"What are you doing, Captain?"
"Just interrogating our prisoners," replied Fengel. "I was quite curious how they'd gotten through the Stormwall without trouble; apparently hugging the Silverpenny was much less problematic than our own entrance." He paused and touched his chin, looking thoughtful. "Also, I am engaging in a bit of extracurricular catharsis. But so it goes. What have you got here?" He turned to take in the moaning, shuddering pirate at their feet. "Who is this poor devil? And what in the Goddess's good name has happened to him?"
"One of Natasha's Reavers. Miss Stone surprised him down below and...took care of him."
"Took care of him how? This man looks like he's been attacked by scryn. Or an angry Haventown prostitute."
For the first time she'd known Sarah, the big gunnery mistress looked at a loss for words. "Ah, there, sir." She gestured at Lina. Arriving in the store-room below, Sarah had only asked Lina if she had it under control, though she'd had a strange expression on her face.
Fengel looked up, noticing Lina for the first time. His eyes widened and he went for the saber at his side. "Stone! Hold still!"
Runt raised its head at the noise. "Chirr?" it said.
Lina held up a hand. "It's fine, Captain. Runt's safe," she lied. "Helped me with this fellow."
"That's a scryn, Miss Stone. Don't you remember what happened last time? Hold still so we can get it off of you."
"I do remember," said Lina defensively. "This one's fine. I've got it drunk on Corsair's Cure-all."
She met his gaze and held it. He owed her for the scryn attack and her quick thinking at Engmann's Maelstrom. And he knew she knew that.
Fengel appeared to come to a decision. He relaxed, moving his hand away from his saber. The look he gave her was obvious. Fine then, it seemed to say. Its messes are your own though, and keep it out of trouble. "Well," said her captain. "So long as it's under control," he stressed, "that should be all right then."
He turned back to the pirate at their feet with a frown. "Henry, go tell Lucian, then take care of this fellow here. Tie him up and then see if we have any antivenin left. Gunny Lome, round up some men and search this vessel from top to bottom. Get the Mechanist and move the light-air cells in the frame around if you have to. I find I am tiring of surprises this evening."
Both rushed off to their tasks. Those that Sarah didn't take with her glanced at Runt and found reasons to be elsewhere. She hadn't been ordered away, so Lina moved up to the gunwales to peer over the edge. The ropes descended over the railing to somewhere below the bow. Several pirates were outlined by the backdrop of the jungle, the captive Reavers all tied up and suspended upside down. Some moaned, some pleaded, others cursed.
Fengel sidled slightly away from her. Lina looked up to him; he quickly glanced away from her and the serpentine creature on her shoulders.
"So," she asked hesitantly. "What have you found out?"
Captain Fengel raised an eyebrow at her. Then he shrugged. "Not much of import, really. Apparently the Albatross was deserted when they got there. Strange, but it could be that most of the crew decided to make their way on foot back up to Breachtown. Moreover though, we didn't get quite all the treasure aboard, and I want to know how much we left behind. Looks like just a few chests of coins." He gestured at the bow gunwales. "From what these fellows tell me, the Lantern wasn't in them."
Lina had peeked down in the hold. The amount of loot they'd taken was enormous. "Does that matter? We've got a ton of treasure down below. That gemstone your Sindicato friend wants has got to be in there somewhere."
Fengel snorted. "The thought of leaving my harpy of a wife anything worthwhile chaps my hide somewhat fiercely."
Lina considered that fact, and agreed that it was somewhat irksome.
"Still," she said. "We're golden. You pay off that debt, you've got a new airship, and we're all rich now." Lina smiled. "And you've left Natasha marooned in a strange jungle filled with Goddess-knows-what, with a hundred-league march back to civilization."
Her captain nodded slowly. "That's true."
"She's probably wanted in Breachtown. I mean, we are pirates, right?"
Fengel brightened. "True! They'd confiscate everything she has and lock her in the dungeon. I hadn't thought of that."
"Don't sell her short. If Breachtown is like Triskelion, they'll have her head off inside a week."
He frowned. "That may be going a bit too—" Fengel trailed off as Lucian came stomping up the deck to them. They turned to face the first mate.
Lucian was dirty. Grime covered his face and clothes. He was, however, wearing ten golden rings, four silver necklaces, and a pair of diamond-studded earrings. "Finished the count Captain," he said.
Fengel smiled. "And?"
"Quite a haul. We're good to pay that debt off and then some with just the lucre below."
"Capital. But I'd prefer we hand over the Lantern and keep the loot."
Lucian shook his head. "Plenty of lesser gemstones. Diamonds in particular. But nothing like the description we've heard."
Fengel stared. "Then where is it?" At Lucian's shrug he bent back over the gunwales toward their captives. "Hoy! You lot sure you never saw a glowing diamond, big as two fists?" The pirates below answered him in the negative. He turned back to face them. "We need that gem. Grey won't leave me alone without it, and I would really like to keep the rest of the treasure."
Lucian held up his hands. "It's not up here, Captain. And from what we know, it's not back there with Natasha."
Fengel clenched his fists at his side. "Then where is it?"
The first mate could only shake his head.
Chapter Fourteen
Fengel paced the deck. The moon was rising on the eastern horizon, just high enough now to be seen over the port-side gunwales. It spread pale illumination out over the deck, removing the need for lanterns. The rigging, gas-bag frame above, and the crewmen were all ghost-colored. Were he to look overboard, Fengel knew the jungle canopy would be visible as a silver carpet spreading out for miles in every direction.
Maxim had the helm. The aetherite growled something into his shoulder, then smiled at Fengel's approach, trying to catch his captain's eyes. It was obvious he wanted someone to talk to. Maxim was normally a solitary man, though not by choice—the constant mean-spirited pranks he played on the crew in order to retain his power
were responsible. He'd once told Fengel that the daemon on his shoulder nattered constantly, and on occasion he felt the need to converse with anyone else.
Fengel didn't feel like talking at the moment. Just before he would have had to politely acknowledge the helmsman and become trapped in banal discourse, he turned on his heel to march back up the deck. At the far end of the bow, Lucian and several crewmen were pulling up their captives. Once they'd been wrung of anything useful, and then hung a little extra to teach them manners, Fengel had ordered them stowed somewhere they wouldn't cause trouble. They could be dropped off somewhere relatively safe in time.
He turned his mind back to his quandary. Lucian had not lied. After the incident with Miss Stone and her troubling new pet, his first mate had brought up the final tally from the holds, less a few small pieces that would go "missing" only to turn up as "longtime family heirlooms." Fengel let a little pilfering slide amongst the crew so long as it wasn't excessive. Even with such considerations, the treasure in the hold was ridiculous. It was estimated at some three hundred thousand sovereigns' worth of gold, silver, and precious gemstones. That would pay the two-hundred-and-forty-thousand sovereign debt to Mr. Grey and the Sindicato, with a decent amount left over to divvy up amongst the crew and to resupply the airship.
The problem was, Fengel really wanted to keep it all.
Unfortunately, he didn't think that he'd be able to. Grey wanted the Lantern, but the gemstone wasn't in the plunder that had been loaded aboard. Fengel had ordered another search and gone down himself, but nothing he could find came close to fitting the description. Also, he'd interrogated their captives again; there was the chance that Natasha and her Reavers simply hadn't found the Lantern aboard the Albatross. That was unlikely, however. His wife wasn't the kind of woman to miss any plunder of worth, especially considering the brass fixtures and old pots that Fengel found in the loot. There existed a small chance that she'd found the thing and hidden it. Fengel dismissed the idea almost instantly: the action was wholly out of character. Natasha was as subtle as a cannonball to the head.
Chasing the Lantern (The Dawnhawk Trilogy, Book One) Page 18
