by Paul Collins
There was a thunderclap-like ‘BUCKAW!’ The airliner banked heavily into a shallow dive, trailing black smoke and flapping its enormous wings. Again the crew of the Dragonfang cheered, even though their own vessel was on fire, too. With Captain Porterby and Jelindel shouting at them in rare agreement, the sailors descended from the rigging and began beating at the flames, smothering them with soaked sails and blankets. Daretor watched as the airliner lowered its legs, ran splashing through the shallows, then folded its legs, immersing its burning behind in the water.
Daretor realised that Captain Porterby was by his side as he stared at the distant shape near the shore.
‘Well done young Daretor,’ exclaimed the captain, glorying in one of his rare experiences of being on the winning side. ‘We showed that overgrown seagull.’
‘My one worry is that it will be back in the air as soon as the fire is out. How is the fire on our foredeck?’
‘Above deck, not too bad, but some of the burning mixture has leaked below and the fires are proving harder to fight. Nearly the entire ship’s complement can barely stop it spreading. It will take at least half an hour to bring it under control.’
Daretor’s eyes didn’t leave the shore where the winged monster was bathing its tail end. ‘In other words, another hit like that will sink the ship,’ he concluded.
‘You’re right, there, lad, but the thing’s firepots are too small to swamp the whole ship with flames. We should have plenty of time to get into the boats.’
‘There!’ cried Daretor, pointing. ‘It’s folding its wings, they’re not going to put it back into the air.’
As Daretor said later, they had really dodged an arrow that time. Whoever had been flying the airliner was obviously reluctant to use it as a weapon, and very frightened about suffering any damage.
‘We were beaten, but we hurt it just enough to break the steersman’s nerve. A veteran warrior would have taken the damage, come around again, and dropped another pot on us before putting its arse in the water.’
‘One day they will put those things into the air with warriors at the helm,’ predicted Jelindel. ‘It will be the end of the warship when that happens.’
‘But that day is not today,’ added Daretor. ‘Today we frightened it off and survived.’
The damage to the Dragonfang did not seem extensive at first. Nevertheless, the crew took days to complete the repairs. A lot of rope needed replacing or cutting and splicing. Meanwhile, so much of the sail had been damaged that they were compelled to patch what had survived, rather than repair it. Wood that had been badly charred was cut away and replaced from the carpenter’s store.
All the while they sailed on, flying as much canvas as was safe. To Daretor’s relief, the weather deteriorated three days after the attack.
Everything on deck was fastened down before the looming waves could wash it away.
‘I cannot believe that Daretor is pleased about weather like this,’ shouted Hargrellien to Jelindel. They were clinging to the salt-hardened rigging, unfurling the storm sails. It was almost impossible to hear above the rain and howling wind.
‘The airliner probably dislikes these conditions even worse than we do,’ Jelindel called out above the squalling wind. ‘I doubt that it’s as solidly built as a ship.’
‘Well, I dislike this weather, too.’ The shrieking rain snatched at Hargrellien’s words.
‘But you’re not a threat to the ship – give that line here, I’ll tie it down.’
‘So he’s forgiven you for banishing him to that paraworld?’
Jelindel clung tightly to a spar and quickly brushed her spume-matted hair from her eyes. She pulled a knot tight.
‘More or less. Having his body swapped with Zimak’s is dwelling a lot more heavily on his mind right now.’
Hargrellien said something, but the canvas was snapping taut then emptying with ominous claps. She bellowed, ‘Whatever the body, he’s a fantastic warrior, and quite a leader, too. He is one of those people you feel confident about following, you know?’
Jelindel scrunched her face against the hurricane-force wind. ‘Hargrellien, do you mean that?’
‘Aye, I do. He put the captain in his place without humiliating him, got the crew on side, then fought off a completely new type of weapon, inventing his strategy as he went. I was all ready to surrender.’
The Dragonfang seemed to stay motionless for one second, then tacked sideways until finally the stern swayed out and a juddering ran the length of the vessel. Jelindel and Hargrellien clung for their lives until the ship righted itself. Still the wind wailed through the rigging, making the ratlines thrum.
‘I thought I felt guilty about my betrayal, but I now wonder if I was not fooling myself. I mean, in a way I really did miss Daretor. I suppose it might be the reason why I brought him back, but now I’m not sure how to tell him. Hargrellien, you’ve seen your sisters courting a lot of boys.’
‘Aye. But can’t this wait?’
‘What would one of them say?’ Jelindel shouted to make herself heard.
‘About what?’
‘About showing she wanted to be more than friendly with a boy.’
‘Jelindel!’ Hargrellin yelled, exasperated. ‘We’re halfway up the dummart rigging of the foremast, in a storm, rain pelting down on us. We’re soaked, freezing, and our hands are so blistered, numb and bleeding that we can hardly hold on to the ropes, yet you want advice on how to seduce Daretor?’
‘Well, it’s an embarrassing subject and this is the first moment we’ve been alone.’
Another loud snap of the sails drowned her words. She crawled closer to Hargrellien and began again. ‘We went on a perilous quest together. Zimak wanted to scamper off to the nearest haystack so he could give me a free tutorial on sexual pleasures, but Daretor was always courteous. He never made a lewd suggestion, and I came to think of him as a sort of strict and protective big brother.
‘Then he was gone, and I started to think of him as more than a brother. Now he’s back, and I have to do something about my feelings this time.’
‘Jelindel, I’m going to be blunt about this, mainly because I’m soaked, freezing, and really anxious to climb down to the deck, get out of the storm, and have my ration of rum. Just say what you’d say to any boyfriend.’
‘I’ve never had a boyfriend, Hargrellien.’
‘I – you haven’t? Even I’ve had a boyfriend. Well, two or three. Four, actually – no, five if you count Dorric, but he was –‘
‘I get the idea,’ snapped Jelindel. ‘So what do I say?’
‘Yes.’
‘Just yes?’
‘That’s it.’
‘Yes generally requires a question first.’
‘Oh, they always ask if they can be your sweetheart, although some put it a bit more crudely, like –’
‘But Daretor’s never asked me anything like that. Goodness knows, he’s had enough chances.’
‘Oh. In that case, you probably have a problem. Can we go below now?’
Chapter 20
HOMECOMING
Circumnavigating the continent turned out to be a reasonably profitable way to go home, as well as being safer than retracing their steps. They picked up cargoes and passengers outside the normal shipping schedules, and by the time they were back in home waters again they had every prospect of landing in D’loom with a large and mostly honest profit.
Altimak was their first port of call in Skelt territory, and they were pleasantly surprised to find that the Dragonfang was not under a detention order. The customs officials searched the vessel carefully, but the crew had already scoured the ship for anything illegal or incriminating, and sold it in Lycellia.
Jelindel also managed to see the voyage through without saying anything more affectionate to Daretor than ‘Just like the old days, travelling with you again.’ Daretor remained on particularly bad terms with Zimak, nagging him continually about the rapid deterioration of his body. Zimak paid him little attentio
n, and neglected his duties aboard ship until his meals were cut off.
‘The home port,’ said Jelindel, leaning on the handrail as D’loom became distinct on the horizon.
‘I should get an entertaining reception,’ said Hargrellien. She did not seem at all happy to be home.
‘Hargrellien, you know it is not as bad as it seems. I spoke to your father about my own, er, gender status. He was quite amused. He even invited me to stay at your family mansion – to help keep an eye on some new contract guards that he intends to hire.’
‘He still doesn’t speak to me.’
‘The man is a warrior. Being rescued by his youngest daughter is probably bad for his pride.’
‘It’s going to be hard to go back to being the youngest daughter. The freedom and excitement of the past months will be hard to give up.’
‘Just remember that only one out of three cabin boys are still alive at thirty. Ships are dangerous. We were lucky to survive any one of our skirmishes.’
‘Will you stay with us – at the mansion?’
‘Until the ship sails again, yes.’
‘Good. It will help me keep my sanity. How are Daretor and Zimak?’
‘Honourable and obnoxious, in that order. Being forced to help sail the ship has toned up Zimak’s physique a bit, but once he hits the D’loom taverns with his two months’ pay, that will not last. Daretor trains and exercises fanatically, and grooms himself well, but he will always be eighteen inches shorter than the body he lost.’
‘Have you talked to him –’
‘No. I couldn’t. Don’t even raise the subject.’
‘I meant have you talked with him about anything? Do you know his plans, his hopes, his dreams?’
Jelindel sighed, then straightened and stretched.
‘We have spoken generally, as we practised sword work. He is now even more obsessed about proving himself a mighty and honourable warrior. Being shorter seems to make all that harder, as far as he is concerned.’
‘Who is he trying to impress? Himself? Everyone else? Is there a girl somewhere?’
‘There were girls in his past, but they tried to make him settle down. Can you imagine him running a tavern, or a farm?’
‘Not really. What is he going to do now?’
‘There is fighting in Baltoria, some rebellion against the Preceptor. He is going there.’
‘To fight for which side?’
‘I doubt he would ride behind the Preceptor’s standard.’
‘It does not sound very hopeful. Has he never said anything at all encouraging? Invited you to get drunk with him, perhaps?’
‘He asks me to train with him all the time, and he did propose that I come with him to Baltoria.’
‘Just you? Not Zimak as well?’
‘Just me.’
‘That could be a hopeful sign. After all, Daretor might be as shy as you in these matters.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘Jelindel, I have just spent months listening to sailors boast about their ways with women, then I have seen what they really do and say when in port. Even the roughest of them can be coy when it comes to female company – especially someone they really want to impress.’
Jelindel rubbed her face, then shook her head and stared across at D’loom. She did not look happy.
‘I rather expected a romance would begin with cakes and flowers, rather than an invitation to go to war,’ she admitted.
‘What did you say to him?’ asked Hargrellien.
‘I said I would think about it.’
‘My advice is to say yes.’
Jelindel said, ‘Pah! If only it were that easy.’
‘It is. Only make sure you ride with him for the right reasons.’
Even though the Preceptor was the ruler of Skelt, there were no guards or constables waiting for the Dragonfang when she docked at D’loom. The crew was paid off, and told that they would be sailing on the morning tide in ten days. There were no friends and families waiting as the ship tied up, however. The crew had actually sailed out on the Dark Empress.
Jelindel, Hargrellien, and Augerin found themselves standing on the pier with a bag each, double checking the money they had been paid for their work aboard the Dragonfang.
‘We should go,’ said Hargrellien. ‘Mother and the girls probably think I died when the Dark Empress was captured by the privateers.’
‘Then they can mourn your death for a few minutes more – and stop calling your sisters “the girls”. It sounds like you are their brother,’ snapped Augerin.
Jelindel hefted her travel bag. ‘So we’re ready?’
‘I asked one more person to join us. Ah, Daretor, there you are,’ exclaimed Augerin. ‘We’re all here now, so let us be off.’
‘And what of Zimak?’ Jelindel asked Augerin.
‘He jumped ship the moment the crew was paid off.’ He paused. ‘I beg you not to take offence, but I could never find it in myself to trust that one.’
Jelindel exchanged a smile with Daretor. ‘No offence taken,’ she said.
Once they had reached the narrow streets beyond the docks, Jelindel took Daretor by the arm and dropped back a little.
‘What is going on here?’ she hissed. ‘You said you would be getting a room at the Golden Shark.’
‘Hargav’s father is nervous about security at his mansion,’ Daretor whispered. ‘He wanted a couple of bodyguards, men he can trust to keep an eye on his house guards.’
‘Oh. And you accepted?’
‘Yes. He said the honour and safety of his family was in danger, and that you were helping too.’
Did he accept because of me? wondered Jelindel as they walked. Perhaps there was hope. He was like a closed book with an intriguing title in a locked glass case. How to get the case open? Perhaps sharing the same house in rather more relaxed circumstances would provide opportunities for him to speak of softer things than fighting. Or perhaps it would give her the same opportunities. While they were sparring or practising disarming techniques she could hold his arm a bit longer than usual, give it an affectionate squeeze, and say, ‘Daretor, have you ever considered having a bottle of wine with me in the moonlight, instead of a couple of tankards in the tavern?’ Surely that was the solution. It was a lighthearted way to raise the subject, yet one that Daretor could not misinterpret.
Augerin’s mansion was only a few streets away from where Jelindel’s own family mansion had once stood. They actually passed the walls that she had known as a child, but by now a new house had been built there.
In theory I own the land, but can I be bothered making a claim? Jelindel wondered.
Augerin entered his mansion first, followed by the rest of them. A servant tried to turn them away until Augerin identified himself as the owner of the house. The servant spluttered an apology, then hurried away. Moments later Hargrellien’s mother and nine sisters came sweeping into the room. Augerin and Hargrellien were smothered in a swirl of dresses, curled hair, scents and embroidered handkerchiefs. Presently the fuss died down, and Augerin’s family spread out in a line facing Jelindel and Daretor.
‘Well now, papa, and who are these two handsome young sailors?’ asked Sermilly, the eldest, as the others smiled and fluttered their eyelashes.
‘They’re my friends, Daretor and Jaelin,’ Hargrellien said before her father could open his mouth.
Over the next hour, servants were sent running to the market, the dining hall was decorated with evergreen boughs, seasonal flowers, and scraps of coloured parchment, and lunch became a celebration feast.
Hargrellien refused to change out of her attire, but she did consent to taking a bath and wearing scent. After lunch she thrilled and even frightened her mother and sisters with several bouts of swordplay with Daretor and Jelindel. She ignored a small cut to her shoulder that caused one of her sisters to faint, then she demonstrated her skill at knife throwing, and finished by rolling up her sleeve and flexing her considerably developed biceps. The show broke up
into something resembling a party.
Daretor took Hargav’s gender switch revelation in his stride. But he had little time to dwell on Hargrellien’s duplicity, as he soon found himself cornered by Sermilly.
‘And how long have you been a sailor?’ she asked, taking his hand and looking into his eyes.
‘Oh, a few voyages. Not very many at all. I was a mercenary for longer than –’
‘A mercenary,’ squealed Sermilly, widening her eyes and squeezing his hand. ‘A sword for hire. How very dashing and romantic. Have you ever rescued ladies who were in peril from horrible, dangerous outlaws?’
‘I – only two – well, three if you count Jelindel, but she didn’t need much rescuing.’
‘Who is Jelindel?’
‘Er, a friend of Jaelin’s.’
‘I wish you would rescue me. You could carry me to safety in your strong, manly arms.’
‘I – I – I – only if you had fainted –’
‘Oh, but I would have fainted, most valorous Daretor.’
Not far away Jelindel was standing with a goblet of fruit juice, staring at the floor and straining to listen to what Sermilly was saying to Daretor. I’m doomed, she thought sadly. I couldn’t speak rubbish like that even if my life depended on it. I’ve lost him. As soon as the sun is down that trollop will be in his bedroom window faster than –
‘Master Jaelin, I have been waiting for a chance to speak to you alone.’
Before Jelindel could respond, another of Hargrellien’s sisters put her arms around her and hugged her tightly.
The girl pulled back slightly and stared Jelindel in the eye, her nose almost touching Jelindel’s. ‘I am Helda and that’s for looking after my sister. Especially for the magnificent fight on the pier when you beat all those sailors who wanted to roughhouse her,’ she said, breathlessly.
Jelindel smiled uncertainly and managed to disentangle herself without causing offence. Recovered from the shock, she squeezed Helda’s shoulders almost affectionately. She realised her mistake and dropped her hands quickly.
Helda stared at her dreamily. ‘I am so surprised by you, your chest is so broad yet your hands are so small … gentle.’
