Spicy took a moment to catch his breath. He wiggled back and again sat upright, ignoring the ache where he had been kicked. He counted ten men operating the boat. It was narrower than the one they had sailed on, but with its sails up it appeared to have no problem hauling a second vessel behind it.
He looked around for Rime and the others. Didn’t see them.
The man giving orders was brawny and bald, wearing a brown leather vest and hide pants. Spicy tugged and twisted but the bindings held him firm. He could do little but wait as they sailed all that afternoon.
They pulled into a harbor of sorts. Spicy first noticed the smell of woodsmoke and then the aroma of roasting meat. Then the tops of homes became visible. The rooftops lacked the tiles and shingles he had seen in both Bliss and Eel Port. These buildings had rough-cut timber and even lashed branches as their roofs. Night had fallen, and the village glowed with lamps and torches. More torches were brought to the ship by men boarding to unload cargo.
Spicy did his best to feel about for anything that might serve as a surface where he might work the ropes free. He found the corner of a crate. But even as he maneuvered to it, the man with the bandana hauled him up and lifted him off the boat. The man placed Spicy on his feet but he fell immediately, his legs numb.
“Up,” the man ordered. He helped Spicy stand before shoving him along.
He tried to take a final look back at their old boat. He saw no sign of Rime or the others.
The village had many shadows. A few larger buildings looked like living things with glowing eyes and doorways for mouths. Smoke belched from metal pipes that served as chimneys. A collection of men and women sat on the outer porch of one establishment where music played. They held mugs and drank and one woman with a white feathered headband pointed at Spicy and laughed.
“Where are my friends?” Spicy asked his captor.
He received no answer and was herded along to an open-walled barn where the freight was being unloaded. Several goats in a pen moved skittishly away as Spicy was shoved into an adjacent cage. The wire to the enclosure appeared flimsy, but Spicy was still tied up. He watched for any sign the human would free him. His arms and shoulders ached.
The man slammed the cage door and left him. Spicy kicked the side of the cage. The weight of failure hung heavy. He couldn’t stop thinking about Rime and the others. Had they been cast over the side to drown? Why had Alma even bothered to save him? He stamped at the cage with both feet until the wire bent.
“Knock it off or I thump you,” someone called.
“I hate you all,” he said, gasping from exertion. And he did. Hot tears warmed his cheeks. He wanted nothing more than for every village of every human to catch fire and burn.
Chapter Forty-Three
Bird’s Landing looked as it had the last time Alma had seen it.
It had never been home, but home had no meaning to her anymore.
The band had used the trading village, which occupied a deep corner in one of the delta’s lakes, as one of its bases of operation since Alma had first sailed with them. The main street was bathed in golden lamplight. The small harbor had a collection of fishing boats, all tied to mooring posts set into the bank. Several women stood waiting for the Sin Nombre to dock. Using a long sculling oar on the stern, the sailors brought the boat in its last few feet until it thunked against the wood. The tow line for Alma’s vessel was then hauled forward and tied off.
Wes ordered the armed men to keep an eye on the other boat. Alma felt a growing apprehension as more lanterns were lit and several men approached from the village carrying torches and weapons. She counted eight archers besides herself. If the dragon had to be killed, there would be enough arrows put on the target, assuming the pirates knew how to shoot.
The crew began to unload their own boat and took Spicy along without comment. Middle Finger hurried off, as did Blades, muttering something about getting a drink. But Alma stayed put, intent on watching her prize.
She fought down the rising feeling of having succeeded where even Lord had failed. Cash wasn’t in hand yet. This last part had to be seen through with a clear head.
One of the goblin girls was crying. Weakness with their kind started at a young age, Alma reasoned. According to rumor, only the fact that they could breed like rabbits without falling ill kept their species alive. She found herself fidgeting. Imagining what she might do once she didn’t have to work. Believing in her luck.
Middle Finger returned with more men. A line of torchbearers now stood along the dock. Passing between them was a waif of a girl in a white gown and carrying a basket. She approached the boat where the dragon slept. She stepped on board.
“I wouldn’t…” Alma began. “Hey! Get out of there!”
“Be calm,” Middle Finger said as he came aboard the Sin Nombre. “And your bow—put it down.”
Four of the sailors came up next to him and crowded around her. They held knives and clubs at their sides.
“What is this?” Alma asked.
One man grabbed her bow away, but she pushed a second sailor back into another and drew her short sword.
Middle Finger raised placating hands. “I said be calm!”
His men had backed away, but not far. They looked to the captain.
She raised her sword, poised to strike. “We had a deal.”
“And we do. None of what we agreed upon has changed. I just can’t have you indiscriminately putting an arrow into something so precious.”
The sailors gave her space. None of them looked as if they would rush her, but she was ready. There was motion on the dock. More women came forward bearing baskets laden with coins, jewelry, and things that sparkled. One held an armload of shining fabric. They approached the boat and handed each offering to the waif, who laid the baskets out in front of the dragon’s hold. She arranged the fabric and placed rings, necklaces, and bracelets of gold on it as if preparing to sell them.
“Get her away from there,” Alma said.
Middle Finger just watched with his arms folded.
The waif cut the net away with a pair of scissors. She then knelt down on the deck.
The torchbearers and Middle Finger took a knee.
And the dragon emerged.
Chapter Forty-Four
Spicy’s cage unlocked.
A large woman stood there, barefoot and dressed in a simple frock. Spicy glared at her, his anger still raging. She held a bowl and a cloth and she got Spicy sitting up. He flinched when she drew a knife, but she used it to cut the bindings around his wrists. She began working the other knots of the rope and soon his arms were free.
The whole time she was speaking in short sentences, but he didn’t understand her words. Spicy knew the sounds of someone complaining, and for some reason he knew she wasn’t upset at him. She dipped the cloth into the water and began to wash him. He winced when she dabbed his cheek. She muttered a few words, but her expression was clear.
Concern. For him, a goblin.
She checked him over and washed his hands and feet as well before putting his shoes back on. Then she gestured for him to wait and went outside the cage. From a hanging basket in the barn, she grabbed what looked like apples. The door remained open. He got up to run, but his legs didn’t cooperate. He stumbled and fell. She rushed back to help him up and led him out of the cage to sit on a small upturned crate. More words poured from her mouth.
Spicy shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
The woman sighed and handed him what turned out to be two pears. She made an eating motion, then said, “Eat. Good.”
He pointed to himself and then back in the general direction of the boat. “Other goblins.” With his hands he indicated several shorter people. “Children. Goblin children. My friends. Where are they?”
She smiled but it was obvious she didn’t understand.
A man barked something in the same language and rushed over. He took Spicy by the elbow but the woman slapped him away. They were
arguing and it was about him. Soon the man was backing off and making placating gestures.
“You come,” the woman said and took Spicy by the hand.
The man was clearly unhappy. He was one of the crew members of the boat that had taken them. There were other humans moving about the village but more were heading down towards the docks. Some of them Spicy could understand, while others spoke the new tongue the woman used.
Harold had called the languages Northspeak, Southspeak, and Cityspeak.
Spicy had never met a goblin he couldn’t understand, but this put a new wrinkle on the human world. There were no goblins here. A few of the people pointed and laughed at him, but he couldn’t understand why. One old man even got in the woman’s way and patted him on the head. The woman brushed the man aside and cursed at him.
A roar shook the air. The woman stopped. The people in the street froze and looked around them.
“Fath,” Spicy said.
He pulled free of the woman and ran, cutting between the people on the street and racing down towards the dock.
The boats were lit by lanterns. At least a dozen torches burned in the hands of men near his boat. And Fath was awake. His pale skin glowed in the light. He was coiled in the middle of the boat by the mast and appeared ready to attack. A girl was cowering near the front of the hold along with the goblins. But the humans along the dock were either on their knees or bowing.
Fath was gazing from man to man and breathing quickly like a bellow. Foam dribbled from his mouth. He looked bewildered and in a state of panic. Spicy ran along the dock. A hand tried to stop him, but he slipped free.
“Fath!” he cried.
Spicy saw no recognition in the dragon’s face.
The cowering girl on the boat rose and stepped forward. She held her hands up, a small knife in her grasp. Her wrists bled and blood trickled down along her pale skin. Strange words came from her mouth. Fath smacked her aside and slid past towards the mewling goblin children. Rime was standing between them, the boat hook in hand.
“Stop!” Spicy cried as he vaulted on deck. He kicked Fath in the side to get his attention. “It’s me. Your apprentice. You’ve been asleep for days.”
Fath turned. Steam poured from his nose. The girl he had knocked down was trying to get up. She was chanting now and again her hands were raised.
This caught Fath’s attention. “Stop. Stop speaking. You don’t know those words. Can’t know them. They’re not yours to speak!”
But a few along the dock were muttering in the strange language as well, even as they kept their heads dipped low.
Fath looked at them. “Silence!”
The men on the dock fell silent. The girl continued her muttered supplication. Fath turned on her and pushed her down to the deck, clamping a talon on either side of her head. He leaned in and his mouth dropped open as if he were about to tear her throat open. The girl only spoke faster and faster and was panting hard.
Spicy slapped the dragon’s back repeatedly. “Fath, I don’t think they mean any harm. They’re not attacking. Don’t hurt her.”
“How do they speak my tongue?”
“I don’t know. There’s so much here I don’t understand.”
The dragon released the girl. She moved into a groveling posture with her bleeding wrists raised. Her imploring speech continued.
“Silence,” Fath said.
“Shh,” Spicy hissed at her. “Stop talking. He’ll kill you.”
“Maybe that’s what she wants,” Rime said. He came closer, the boat hook still in his hands. “She was cutting herself before Fath woke up. Laid a bunch of treasure out like he was some revered elder.”
“Name,” Fath said. “Stop saying my name. None of you but Spicy is allowed to say it.” He sounded exhausted. “And none of you should speak in my tongue. It’s obscene.”
A hush fell over the dock. The water continued to lap at the boats.
The girl in white was sobbing now. “Master, we have displeased you.”
“Who are you, human?” Fath asked.
“Nothing. A worm beneath your feet. A slave. Meat for your belly, if you wish.”
“How do you know me?”
The girl spoke with her face to the deck. “We serve you, sire. You were conducted to us. We didn’t know you were coming, and we were not prepared. That is my sin. But we will take you to your home.”
“My home?”
“Yes, sire. That way you can be reunited with your fellow long.”
To Spicy, Fath asked, “What is this human babbling about?”
Spicy’s mind raced. “Your brother. You said you were seeking him.”
He made a quick search of the boat and finally grabbed the knife the girl had used to cut her skin. He carved the symbol of the dragon in the deck before the girl. It was a perfect match to the glyph on the sage’s map that had shown where in Mother Mountain Fath’s lair was located. But they were nowhere near Devil Mountain, according to his estimate.
Fath grumbled in irritation as Spicy scratched away.
“I’m just drawing the one word,” Spicy said. “Be patient.” Once finished, he tapped the wood where he had drawn the glyph. “Dragon.” He pointed at Fath. “Dragon.”
The girl studied the symbol for a moment and nodded. She then pointed at the night beyond the village.
“Long,” she said again. “That is our word for our masters. Dragon. We will take him there for their reunion.”
Chapter Forty-Five
The girl in white hurried off the boat and said something in the other language. Several of the torchbearers obeyed and moved ahead up to the street, where they waited. A bespectacled man on board the pirate boat barked an order and the rest of the humans moved off the dock.
With her white hair, Alma was impossible to miss as she came down the gangplank. She studied the dragon and Spicy with open hatred in her eyes as she moved to join the waiting crowd along the street.
“This is a trap,” Spicy said.
Fath grunted. “These humans understand deference.” He slithered to the dock. His movements were lethargic as he slunk along up the dock and onto the street.
Rime grabbed Spicy by the arm. “This is our chance. We take the boat.”
“Do you know how to sail?” Spicy asked. “Because I don’t. And it’s night. We have no idea where to go even if we could get away.”
“Then we run.”
The crowd formed around him as they conducted him away.
Spicy leaned close so he could talk to Rime and the children. Their eyes were wide but the tears were gone. “Okay, look, a woman in town freed me. A human woman. There’s a chance they don’t want us as slaves. But I promised Fath I’d help him. I can’t leave him yet.”
“You’re crazy,” Rime said.
“Maybe. Running might be the right idea. Everyone is pretty distracted. Take what you can. Put it in one of the small rowboats and get out of here. Hide on shore in the direction of sunup. If I’m not back by morning, you have to leave. Find the Inland Sea. Follow the coast. You’ll have to hunt and gather. Avoid all humans. I know you can do it.”
“You can’t leave us again.”
“I’m sorry. But there’s a reason the humans came to Boarhead in the first place that has something to do with Fath. I have to do this.”
Spicy pulled free of Rime and hurried to climb off the boat and run after the procession.
The humans were divided into two groups: those that led the dragon along with the girl in white, and the crew members of the boat along with the crowd from the village. Everyone kept their distance from Fath. Alma hung to the rear of the group, bow in hand.
They led Fath past the tavern where the humans had been drinking.
From the doorway, someone shouted. Fath turned and let out a roar. Spicy pushed forward to see.
Blades had just staggered out of the establishment. A spilled mug lay at his feet. He had his sword out and a knife in his opposite hand. Fath was coiled and poised to
strike at him. The girl and the other supplicants were shouting for Blades to drop his sword. The crowd began to back off, except for Alma. She loaded an arrow and raised the bow.
Spicy tackled her headlong.
The arrow fired and struck the doorpost between Blades and the dragon. The dragon turned and launched himself towards her, knocking two men aside. Alma kicked Spicy off her before rising, but the dragon smashed into her and drove her down onto the dirt.
“This one took my eye,” he said.
“Look out!” Spicy screamed.
Blades rushed up behind Fath and stabbed his sword into the creature. Fath reared up and bellowed and thrashed, his tail swinging wildly. Spicy had to duck to avoid getting smashed. Alma rolled out of the dragon’s reach. The men with the torches grabbed Blades and disarmed him. The sword tumbled to the ground. The wound in Fath’s side poured blood.
The pirate captain took hold of Alma and led her back away from the dragon.
“Step aside from that one,” Fath said as he turned on the group who held Blades. Blades twisted in their arms but couldn’t break free. But then they let go and he was left standing alone under the looming creature.
“Rot, you monster,” Blades said.
Fath inhaled but then let out a sharp cough. His body shuddered as he spat wisps of steam and wads of black phlegm. More blood flowed from the wound. Then he collapsed.
Blades let out a bitter laugh as the men tied his hands. He was pushed along to stand with Alma, who was likewise bound. Spicy moved to place his hand on Fath. He was breathing hard but still conscious.
“Don’t touch me,” Fath said.
“You’re bleeding,” Spicy said. “Someone get bandages!”
He was surprised when a few of the humans broke from their daze and fetched him strips of gauze. There would be no way to wrap the wound while the dragon still moved. Spicy took a handful of gauze and pressed it into the deep gouge. The material was soaked through after a minute. He tossed the sodden gauze aside and applied more and repeated the process.
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