“Good night.” The door closed softly, and Dolores Isenhart turned to stare at forty-five pounds of cats sprawled out on the foot of her bed. “This will have to change.” She muttered darkly. Blue opened one eye to regard the woman—and closed it again.
Chapter 3
Nobody noticed Hedric as he walked the hot, dusty streets of the drab gray town. To the few passersby, he was just another waif, a castoff of a rich merchant perhaps, or a servant boy from the ship. Either way, they didn’t care.
The store was shabby, the shelves half empty when Hedric entered. Looking up from behind the low counter, the shopkeeper, a heavyset balding man, frowned.
“You there, boy! Get out of my shop. You’ll disturb the customers.”
Hedric looked around the shop, empty but for himself and the corpulent shopkeeper. “What customers did you think I would disturb?”
“Well, there might be…”
The boy slapped a small leather pouch on the counter. It clinked suggestively. “I am your customer.”
The shopkeeper blinked. “Oh, I see.” He rubbed fat hands together. “And how may I help you, young master?”
“I would like two pairs of pants, two shirts, several sets of smallclothes, a new set of sturdy boots and a good knife—and don’t be all day about it.”
The shopkeeper scuttled about, and soon had a small pile set on the counter before Hedric. The boy picked up the well-used knife, and drew it from its sheath. The cheap ceramic blade was stained and chipped. Tossing the knife and sheath back on the counter with a clatter, he glared at the bald man. “Totally unacceptable. I said a knife. THAT is a piece of shit.” He looked down his nose in his best imperious manner. “Get out your three BEST knives. We’ll start there.”
The shopkeeper started in surprise. “Of course, of course.” The knives appeared as if by magic. The first two glittered with blue fire. Crystal blades, they were grown and not made, and Hedric knew in a flash they were well out of his price range. The third blade was a splotchy red/brown, and Hedric knew it immediately for slightly oxidized steel.
“How much for that one?” He pointed to the third knife.
The shopkeeper quoted a price that would have made a king gasp. Thanks to Captain Isenhart, Hedric already knew what an appropriate price was for the items. “Ridiculous!” He picked the pouch up and turned for the door.
“Wait!” The shopkeeper cut him off. “I might have made a small error in my accounting.” He quoted another figure.
Hedric counted out the price the Captain, and not the shopkeeper, had told him. The two were very different. Glittering on the counter the pile was impressive, and it left little in his pouch.
“I couldn’t possibly…” The shopkeeper was staring at the money, probably more than he’d made all week. Hedric reached for the pile. “No! All right. It’s yours.” The shopkeeper’s voice was resigned.
Hedric waited until his clothes were wrapped in a neat bundle and his new knife secure on his belt, before he let himself smile. “It has been a pleasure doing business with you, noble shopkeeper.” He gave the scowling man a deep bow before he left.
The Golden Fleece moved out into the river again, this time headed for the small city of Landau, another month upriver. Her holds were full of trade goods, and most of the crew groggy from the effects of too much drink. It had been a good stop. The biggest surprise had come when he returned to the boat, to find all his personal belongings gone. Mister Gralt filled him in on the details. Apparently, the Captain had gotten tired of the cats sleeping on her bed, and decided to transfer them to Hedric’s small bunk under the main stairs, after removing the door. Hedric found himself in Chief Engineer McFarlain’s old berth. It took him half an hour to loosen the rusted ironwood latches on the small porthole to let in some fresh air. Then he began to clean. He finished a week later, with the rest of the old chief engineer’s belongings sinking in the river behind them. Laudau Harbor and more adventures lay ahead.
Small fishing smacks darted about the dark water, always in danger of collosion with the slowly chuffing steamer. The air was still and heavy, smelling of fish and something far worse. The night’s dumpings of the chamberpots.
Another steamer was departing as the Fleece began to unload. Unlike the aging side-wheeler, this vessel had only one small mast forward and two short stacks bellowing smoke.
“How?” The boy muttered to himself from his quiet place on the bow.
“It’s the newest thing, lad.” The Captain had come up quietly behind him, and he jumped. “She be the Albatross, and Alan Decker her skipper. She has a single propeller beneath her stern. She be half again faster than us, even after all your work.”
“Propeller.” The young engineer murmured to himself. “Just like the airship.”
The Captain’s voice was quiet, insinuating. “And how did that airship run?”
“Oh, that’s easy.” Hedric’s attention was still on the departing vessel, dodging effortlessly around the smaller craft crisscrossing the harbor. He chose to ignore Dawn’s frantic warnings. “Thick woody vines cover the huge airbag that is the airship Daedalus. Feed the vines and it means more helium in the gas bag and more lift. A secondary byproduct of the plant digestion is hydrogen, which is separated out by means of a filter, and powers the motor of the large prop at the stern. The ship’s wheel is attached to the rudder and elevators at the aft of the craft control the vessel’s motion; either up and down, in conjunction with the amount of gas in the bag, or right and left.” The Albatross, spewing smoke, finally turned out of the harbor and disappeared up the river. Hedric finally realized what he had said. “Ah, pretty good story, wasn’t it?” His laugh held a slightly sick sound. The Captain gave him a flat level look.
“Who taught you about airships?” There was steel in her voice now.
“My two uncles, but mainly Uncle Padraig.”
“Not a common name. Who taught him?”
Hedric squirmed, but there was no escaping. “The same person who gave him the airship.” He took a breath. “The Goddess Selene.”
The silence stretched on and on. Finally the Captain spoke. “Don’t you think that your uncle will be worried about you?”
Hedric couldn’t take it anymore. “No, because he’s dead. I killed him. I threw a tantrum like the spoiled brat that I am. I destroyed the airship, killed the crew and fell into the damn swamp. I ate bugs for weeks to stay alive until a cat saved my life. That same cat died saving me a second time. I should be dead. Sometimes I wish I were dead.” He ignored the tears that were rolling down his cheeks. “I’ll leave the boat if you wish. I don’t want to cause problems for you, after you’ve been so good to me.”
Captain Isenhart smiled gently. “And lose the best engineer I’ve ever had? Are you crazy?”
“But I’m just a spoiled bratty…” He almost said noble, but bit his tongue at the last second. “Idiot.”
“Not so spoiled or bratty anymore, I think.” The woman said quietly. “Surviving on bugs tends to do that to you.”
“Yeah.” Hedric admitted grudgingly. “That it does. What about Selene? Galt will explode if he finds out.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Then we won’t tell him, will we?”
“No, ma’am.” He couldn’t help but smile. “But what about what I did to the airship? I killed everyone.” His voice was shaking.
“Did you see the bodies?”
“Ah, no.”
“If they were as close to Selene as I imagine, then I suspect that they may just be alive, somewhere, trying to discover what happened to you.” She laughed lightly. “A lost airship shouldn’t be too hard to find. Someone will have seen it.”
“Well, maybe.”
The Captain and her young engineer watched the cargo being unloaded for the rest of the afternoon, until finally Hedric decided to go for a short walk and see what Landau looked like.
Close to the busy wharf, and in front of the major businesses and warehouses the streets were a rough cob
blestone, with horse pulled carts and crowds of people in colorful clothes competing for the same right-of-way. The din made Hedric’s ears ring. Further from the water rutted muddy streets were the rule.
The River Rat was an unsavory-looking pub, from the outside at least, with cracked windows and peeling brown paint decorating the run-down exterior of the single-story wood building. A faded sign, showing an unidentifiable creature walking by a river, swung despondently on ironwood hinges in the erratic breeze. With more than a little hesitation, Hedric pushed open the swinging doors, and stepped in. Cool air blanketed his face, and he blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light. Scattered lanterns created a flickering yellow glow, and patches of shadow appeared and disappeared. The pub’s interior was clean and neat, with large heavy tables set randomly around the spacious, low ceilinged interior. The floor was wood plank, scrubbed clean, and the air smelled of lamb roasting on a spit in the hearth that covered the whole of the far wall. The fire below it was low and well banked.
“Well.” The mellow voice from the corner exclaimed. “I see that you’ve managed to stumble on the best pub in town, but aren’t you a little young?”
Hedric squinted, and made out the doctor sitting in the shadows in the corner. “Just dumb luck, Doctor. I came in here to eat..” He saw the gleam of a smile in the dim light.
“Then, by all means have a seat, young man.”
The waiter came over and took Hedric’s order, frowning until the boy shook a purse full of coins.
“And how are you getting along on the boat, Mister Swimming?” The doctor took a long drink of wine and sat back. Hedric could feel the man’s intent stare.
“Better than I anticipated, Doctor. I never expected to end up in the engine room, let alone have a knack for machinery. Now people accept me for what I am, and what I can do.”
“Interesting observation. You might think that…”
They were interrupted as several dirty dockworkers came into the Rat and banged loudly on a table, demanding ale. Hedric could see the doctor roll his eyes.
“Ear that, Earnie?” The taller man with brown leathery skin, thinning hair and a bone earring, exclaimed in a grating voice. “They sez the pirates av made it down as fer as Greenville. Greenville! She be only a fifteen day sail from here. It’s not safe anymore, I tell yer.” The waiter came with the ale, and the speaker took a long drink, wiping his mouth with his sleeve when he was done. “Rumor as it.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially, so that only half the room could hear. “That the bloody pirates sacked the whole city of Treebeard, on the north shore of the river, bout a hunnert er hunnert and fifty leagues from here.” His eyes took on a look of horror. “They says they didn’t leave no survivors.”
The man the first had addressed as Ernie took a long drink of his ale, and made a sour, unappreciative face. “If there were no survivors, then who told the tale?”
“Ah.” The first dockworker looked confused. “It’s just what I heared. Don’t mean nuttin.” The first speaker began again, undeterred. “Rumor is that cities have been turning up deserted—for no reason. Some say New Boston be next. Somethin’s comin outta the Blight, I tell ye.”
“I consider myself told.” The second man muttered with a resigned note in his voice. “We should get back to work. Maybe you could talk to those traders who just pulled in. They might know something.”
“Mebby I will.” The dockworkers set a few coins on the table and left, back to their jobs. The door had barely shut when it was pushed open again by Lexi. She scanned the room. When she saw the two sitting at the table her brow furrowed and she made for them like a ship under full steam.
“This doesn’t look good.” The doctor swallowed the last of his wine, and set a few coins on the table. Hedric looked down at his now empty plate, and followed suit.
“So, this is where you are. Drinking!” Her voice held an angry note.
“Good afternoon, young lady.” Doctor Welter returned pleasantly. “What can we do for you?”
“Captain wants you back on board right now. We leave just as soon as we take on wood for our boiler.”
“Already? I thought that we were going to stay until tomorrow.”
“The Captain went ashore and when she came back she was all afire to set out again. The crew won’t be happy, especially the ones who get left behind because we couldn’t find em.” Her face was pale and set in stone. “We should go—now.”
“As you wish.” The doctor rose and Hedric followed quietly in his wake.
“Hello, Lexi.” He murmured, catching up with the girl’s quick strides.
She frowned. “Tad.” Her head turned away and Hedric sighed.
“The wood is aboard so get the boilers lit, Mister Swimming.” The Captain greeted him as he stepped over the rail and onto the well-ordered deck of the Fleece. “We’ll leave as soon as you have steam up and Mister Gralt returns with fresh powder and shot for the cannons.” The woman turned away, her face unreadable.
Even deep within the engine room the boom was startling and Hedric jumped, dropping the wrench on his toe. His curses were drowned out by another explosion. “What the?”
“The Captain is exercising the cannons.” Doander replied with a straight face, trying with all his might to appear wiser and worldlier than his twelve years might imply. He finally gave up to his enthusiasm. “There are rumors about pirates on the river ahead.” He sounded breathless.
“I already heard that in a pub in town.” Hedric was sitting on the deck, rubbing the injured toe.
“You did?” The other boy’s face fell. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It was just a couple of drunken dockworkers talking. I didn’t think it was important.”
“Well, we’ll see when we get to Greenville. We should be there in a week or two.” He picked up a small can and began to oil a gear. “I’ve been there once before. They’re real friendly to traders, so I hope I get to go ashore this time.”
A floating barricade across the harbor entrance was the first indication that things weren’t right in Greenville. The arrows in the front of the boat were the second. After that, Captain Isenhart began to get mad. She stormed to the bow of the boat, now drifting toward the crude barricade of logs and heavy woven ropes, and used language Hedric wouldn’t have expected from a drunken soldier, let alone the Captain of a river trader. To his surprise, the rough language worked, as several red-faced men rowed out and began to hastily open the barricade. The day was hot and steamy and Hedric, from the small, but clean, engine room porthole could see the sweat stains on the backs of the men struggling with the barricade.
Soon the Fleece was tied to the heavy pier, engines shut down, and swarms of anxious workers helped unload her cargo.
“Why is everyone helping to unload our cargo?” Hedric was standing beside Joshua Tilbet, the bull-necked cargomaster.
“The harbormaster said they’ve not seen another trader in their harbor fer ten or fifteen days now. Five days ago the Albatross steamed by, but didn’t stop. She’s headin north, fer Treebeard and then New Boston, some say. Folks here are mighty hungry right about now, so our goods are more than welcome.”
“Will we have any cargo to take with us, when we leave?”
“Capin will pick up what she can, but we’ll make a good profit here I’m thinkin.” He leaned over as a boom swung out of the forward hold with a pallet full of red-labeled cases. Eager hands reached out. “You watch those cases there.” Tilbet shouted in a rough hoarse voice. “You breaks em you pays fer em. That’s all the liquor yer apt te see for some time.” The men handling the cases turned pale, and began to treat the cases like they were full of eggs.
The air smelled of fear, rank and sour. The men Hedric could see on the dirty streets
looked suspiciously at the trader, hands on hilts of knives or swords. There were no women about: no dogs, no cats, and no children. It was a city preparing for a siege.
A corpulent official, dressed in an uncomfortable looking formal high-collared black coat, wearing an intricately carved bone medallion shaped like a key, strode purposefully down the quay toward the Fleece.
The Captain, standing on the other side of Tilbet, took one look at the approaching official and bent her head to the cargomaster. “Continue with the unloading. I’ll meet this man on the quay.”
Hedric missed most of the conversation, despite his best efforts at eavesdropping; however, he did catch one sentence from the man who turned out to be the mayor.
“But, Captain, please. You’ll be safer here, inside the harbor, and we could certainly use your cannons.” The Captain returned a withering glare, but Hedric missed what she said, as a dockworker tripped and dropped a case of liquor with a crash of breaking bottles. The cargomaster lit the air with a string of sulfurous curses, as the wet stain from the broken bottles spread over the quay.
“Pick up the mess and keep unloading.” The Captain growled to the nearest dockworker. “We’re out of here by nightfall.” The man who had dropped the case was sitting on the cold quay, crying.
Hedric returned to his normal spot in the bow of the boat. The night watch had taken over the duties in the engine room, and he had finished his dinner, although he wasn’t hungry. He was too excited. Too scared. The white crescent of Medin was slowly rising.
The Finger of God: a Thalassia novel Page 5
