“You want me to go find the captain, then?” Violet said eagerly.
“Captain can take care of himself,” Nel said. “No, you go back to the ship. At a run.”
“Is that a good idea?” Violet was doubtful. “If someone's looking for the Tantamount couldn't they follow me back to it?”
“Don't let them.”
“But—”
Nel cut her off. “Someone wants to find our ship, it's not going to be that hard for them. Cauldron's not that big. Plenty of people who could tell them, wouldn't even take that long to go through all the ships docked here right now. No, they're going to find us, can't help that.”
Violet looked dismayed. “So what do you want me to do?”
“Get back. Let Quill and the others know. Don't let anyone on board, no matter what. That happens we're proper sunk, understand, Vi?”
“Yes, Skipper.”
“Good girl.” Nel stood up. “Let's go.”
They made their way through the crowded and smoky tap room. Outside Violet glanced once at Nel for confirmation and then disappeared into the streets, vanishing like the street urchin she was. Nel scowled for a minute, remembering how difficult it was to find Violet when she didn't want to be found. The first few days Violet had been aboard the Tantamount Nel had chased her from one end to the other. Violet wasn't meant to have been aboard and both Nel and Quill had been trying to throw the girl over the side. Violet had good incentive to hide back then. Inevitably it had been the captain who had found her first, curled up inside of a barrel. After that, throwing her overboard had become less of an option, though Quill still suggested it occasionally.
Nel found Piper on his way out of a second-hand salvage shack. The front yard was littered with scrap metal and wood, bits and pieces of ships in various stages of being dismantled and recycled to be sold for profit. The leavings were of what might have once been proud and functional vessels, things with soul and purpose that had fallen on hard times and would never recover from them. The shack itself was a lean-to affair built from scrap but at least it didn't have a web on it. Of course the whole yard was falling apart. Maybe there had been a sign and it had fallen down. More likely it had been sold itself, maybe to a less legitimate business to lend it the veneer of officialdom. Or maybe the dusty cobwebs adorning corner nooks and crannies were meant to represent the mercenaries’ logo. Spiders specially imported for just such a purpose. Stranger things happened.
Piper had what was probably a sheaf of promissory notes clutched in his hands and was passing them up to Bandit. The loompa examined one such paper carefully before screwing it up and stuffing it into Piper's pack with overstated deliberation.
“What are those?” Nel asked, bringing her ship's engineer to a stop.
“Consents,” Piper answerred, passing one up to Bandit. “Requests, requisitions. For the ship.”
He examined another he was holding. “This one is for nails.”
“Are they important?”
“Very,” Piper assured her. “Nails generally are.”
“Then stop giving them to the monkey,” Nel said through gritted teeth. Bandit stared at her, midway through crumpling another requisition. Perhaps the creature was finally starting to understand her dislike for it. Bandit still finished his filing but did it very slowly and carefully, almost reverently, carefully watching her to determine if there was going to be some sort of reaction.
“We have problems,” Nel said, trying not to glare at the loompa. “Start walking, we're going back to the ship.”
Piper fell into step with her. Though she wasn't short, Nel had to take three steps for every two of Piper's. As he walked, the big man folded the remaining papers in half and stuffed them into his pack. He swung it round in front of him to do so and his actions required a feat of acrobatics from Bandit to keep his seat. The loompa squawked his protest, but for once was ignored.
“What has the captain gone and done this time?” Piper asked with a familiar wariness.
“Apparently he bet the ship in a game,” Nel said.
“Betting the ship is not a problem. Losing the ship is.”
“Captain always loses, Piper.”
Piper nodded. “This is true.” He sighed hugely. “So we will be running, yes? Before the ship is getting her new legs even?”
“Haven't got to that part, Piper,” Nel admitted. “Right now I just want to get back to her before someone else does. I sent Violet back to warn Quill.”
“Ah.” Piper rumbled approvingly. Nel grinned in reply. For once the xenophobic Kelpie's prejudices were going to work in their favour. Quill barely tolerated his crewmates; neither of them had any doubts as to what the navigator would do to anyone trying to take possession of the Tantamount on his watch.
All the same they hurried back to the ship, Piper's tree trunk legs chewing up the distance and Nel hustling to keep pace. She was slightly out of breath by the time they reached the docks and saw the first signs of trouble.
There was a crowd. Crowds were bad—people would congregate to watch festivals, performances, and circuses, but they were drawn in much more quickly by the spontaneity of bad things. Crashes, executions, brawls. Crowds loved a spectacle. A ship given over in a gambling debt and its repossession being contested by the original crew qualified as a spectacle. Given that they were on Cauldron, Nel half expected to see stands being erected and an admission fee being charged.
“Hells,” Nel muttered as they started to push their way through the crowd. She let Piper go first. His bulk made it easier going and anyone who protested usually thought better of it. Especially once they got a good look at the tattooed man with the loompa riding his shoulders. Big tattooed men were scary, but not that unusual. Sailors liked tattoos and plenty of ships made up their crew's numbers with ex-cons and less-than-savouries. It was the eccentric ones people were wary of. People missing body parts—eyes, a leg, hands—folk who talked to themselves and held conversations with people no one else could see. Or one's with strange fashion sense; like a man Nel had once met who wore skin-tight smocks over his head likes a mask, or others who used souvenir body parts as accessories.
Mascots, which most people assumed Bandit was, were not uncommon aboard ships and plenty of crews were possessive and protective of their mascots. Again, Nel knew more than one ship that had been burned to the gunnels after incidents involving another ship's mascot. Most people looking at the loompa cautiously made that association.
In Piper's case they were probably right. He was both possessive and protective, and the fact that Nel and a majority of her crew would have happily pitched the loompa overboard in mid-voyage wasn't relevant today. Still, Bandit screamed and shook his tiny fist at anyone who still didn't get the hint. Nel was like an unseen shadow at their backs compared to that spectacle, too normal and unremarkable to register.
There was a commotion up ahead. Nel couldn't see over Piper and the crowd, but Bandit's squawk of alarm made her try anyway. The sound of something smashing, a cloud of dust kicking up while people screamed in alarm.
“Piper?” Nel called out.
“Quill,” he replied without preamble.
“Get us over there, Piper, now.”
Piper gave a huge roar at the top of his lungs, scattering the people in front of him. They couldn't move fast enough to get out of the tattooed giant's way and Piper ploughed straight through the gap, Nel following in his wake. They reached the edge of the crowd, just shy of the pier leading to the Tantamount.
And found themselves behind an armed group. On Cauldron they could only be mercenaries. All were taking refuge behind a stack of crates, clouds of dust and splinters were still settling overhead. The group was a mixture of men, women, and non-human. It seemed to Nel that someone wasn't particular about who they recruited. She saw all shapes and sizes, a seven foot woman with tattoos covering one side of her face, a reedy looking man with glasses, a diminutive Korrigan that looked to be reamed in scars and more Vodyanoy. From that l
ast Nel deduced the group answered to one Ebon Masaius.
Beyond them on the raised deck of the Tantamount stood Quill, the Kelpie's tail lashing violently behind him. That and the blue electricity arcing between his fingertips were bad signs. A shipping crate hovered ominously close above him. Ranged behind him along the ship's gunwales were the rest of the crew, brandishing boathooks and other makeshift weapons, all looking equally mean and evil.
Nel wasn't fooled though. Whatever show the crew might put on, they would be no match for a group of armed mercenaries. Self-preservation was holding them back right now, and a healthy respect for Quill's thaumatic abilities, but it wouldn't take them long to get over that and find a way to counter him. Thaumaturgy looked flashy but it was nothing new and couldn't stand up to an armed group by itself.
“I do not see the captain,” Piper rumbled.
“Me neither,” Nel admitted.
“It is up to you then, Skipper.”
“Yeah,” Nel muttered. “Hey!” she yelled, causing the group of mercs to turn and face her as she strode to close the distance. She picked Ebon Masaius out from the other Vodyanoy and made straight for him, hand on her sidearm.
Ebon's brows rose when he saw her bearing down on him, but to his credit he didn't flinch, motioning for his group to stay their arms as well.
“First officer Vaughn, I expected we'd be seeing you here. Looks like we arrived before you.”
“For all the good it did you.” Nel glared at him. “Ugly friends you've got here, Ebon.”
“Watch your mouth,” the giant woman told her, towering over her employer.
Nel craned her neck upwards. “Hells, Ebon, what are you feeding this woman? Whatever it is, stop. She's too damned big. Big don't make ugly any better.”
The woman nudged past Ebon, who looked pathetically small in contrast, before leaning down to shove her face in front of Nel's. “Are you stupid?”
“Just sober,” Nel said.
Ebon frowned. “I don't think—”
His reluctance was lost or came too late—the woman raised one meaty fist to pound Nel into the ground. Nel didn't hesitate with her sidearm. There was a flash of light as the wand discharged with a concussive shock and a yell from the woman. The ground shook again as the woman staggered and fell, clutching her foot.
“What?” Nel shrugged at Ebon, who was shaking his head. “I didn't hurt her . . . much. Piper, help the lady up.” She gestured.
Piper stooped to help up the woman, who swatted his hands aside angrily, making it back to her feet but clearly favouring the one Nel hadn't shot. Nel was amused to see she was marginally taller than Piper.
“If there's not going to be any more misunderstandings,” Nel asked, holding tight onto her wand. Nearby, one of Ebon's minions spun a similar weapon lazily through his fingers, making a show of it. He caught her look and leered.
The discharge from a flick of Nel's wand scattered splinters and loose grit from the dock, blowing the wand clear out of the man's grasp. He grabbed for it, missed, and had to chase after the weapon.
Nel inclined her head towards Ebon. “Like I said.”
“Idiot,” Ebon muttered, neither flinching nor looking around. The man had nerve, Nel conceded. His lackey stumbled back into position, shamefaced.
“I was hoping to avoid this when I saw you in the bar,” Ebon told her. “This could have proceeded much smoother than it has.”
“You're trying to take my ship,” Nel stated grimly. “Nothing is going to go smoothly about that.”
“My ship,” Ebon corrected her.
“Horatio Phelps’ ship,” she corrected Ebon. “I've only your word you won that docket from him. Any transfer of an independent vessel in a neutral port takes place on the vessel and requires the presence of the current and acting captain as well as the new owner.”
Ebon's yellow eyes narrowed at her.
“Want to try me on that one?” she asked him. “Places like Cauldron take this sort of stuff seriously. Can't do business off the map if everyone is hijacking everyone else's ships all the time. Fact of the matter is I'm surprised we haven't got the taxman's goons breathing down our necks already. All I see so far are those misfit dropouts you've got working for you.”
Nel smiled coolly at Ebon's consternation. “Until my captain turns up, that pretty piece of paper of yours is just that. So why don't we all just sit here nice and quiet like, 'til Horatio deigns to honour us with his presence. I'm going aboard my ship. Don't follow me.”
She didn't wait for an answer, leaving Ebon and his goons to stew on the dock. She felt Piper at her back as she strode up the gangway to join the rest of their crew.
“What's going on?” Quill asked, barely concealed irritation in his voice. The rest of the crew crowded round, jeering and making obscene gestures towards the dock.
“I just bought us some time,” Nel said, glancing back over her shoulder. Ebon's group hadn't moved from the dock, he seemed to be addressing them. “They can't legally take possession of the ship until the captain gets back. Legally.”
“What?” Gabbi exclaimed. “What do you mean, take the ship?”
“Nobody is taking the ship.” Quill snapped his sharp teeth.
Nel swept her gaze over the crew. They shouldn't have been surprised at that bit of news. “Where's Violet?” she asked.
“She was with you,” Jack rumbled. He had his butchery apron on—it was bloody and so were his hands up to the elbows. He held a savage looking meat cleaver in one hand and looked to be begging for an excuse to use it. Typical Jack.
“I sent her back to warn you.”
“She's not here,” Jack grunted.
“Then she didn't make it.” Nel had to look around to place that voice. It was Sharpe, leaning innocuously in the shadow of the mast beside the rigging stowed against it. She was sure he'd left them. Had he been on the ship the whole time?
“I spotted the group out there,” Sharpe went on to say. “They looked ready for trouble and we're the only ship docked out here.”
Nel turned to Quill. “And you didn't bother to find out what they wanted?”
Quill shrugged.
“What do we do now, Skipper?” Gabbi piped up.
Nel considered their options. New owners on the dock; bitter, resentful crew aboard a ship not safe to fly. Two crew members missing including the captain, though it was Violet Nel was most worried about. A lot of things could happen to a girl in a place like Cauldron.
She glanced down at the docks. The spectators had dispersed and there was a clear reason why. The tax collectors had arrived with golems in tow. A group of steam gushing constructs led by a member of the Spider's Web. They spent a few minutes talking to Ebon's group before a spokesperson detached himself from the group and made his way up to the Tantamount. Quill's tail lashed as the messenger approached.
He called out, “Which one of you is in charge?”
“I am,” Nel told him, stepping up to the railing.
The messenger nodded. He didn't ask who she was—possibly he didn't care, more likely it just didn't matter who he delivered his message to. “I represent the Spider's Web, meaning the people who are in charge of this miserable rock. Let me explain to you that it's our miserable rock and you're making a mess of it. There will be no more . . . violence on the docks over your dispute.”
“How about violence regarding other people's disputes?” Sharpe said coyly.
Quill laughed. Nobody else did. The messenger did not look amused.
The messenger pointed. “See those golems?” He didn't elaborate.
“Tell them to keep to their side of the dock,” Nel said, pointing to Ebon's group.
“They have been told.” The messenger frowned. “Ebon Masaius, a person known to us here on Cauldron, offers you the following arrangement. A meeting at one of his warehouses to finalise the arrangements for the transfer of this ship.”
“Ain't gonna be no transfer,” Jack growled.
“Final t
ransfer requires the presence of the captain,” Nel said.
“Ebon Masaius has . . . ,” the messenger considered his next words, “. . . assured us your captain will be present at the meet.”
Gabbi scowled. “Ebon Masaius can go jump off the bloody pier.”
“He also says you can collect your captain once he has collected his ship.” The messenger paused to let that sink in.
There was a rigid silence from the crew.
“You saying Ebon has our captain?” Jack took a step forward.
“Funny,” Nel said. “I remember him saying Horatio skipped out before they could complete the transfer. Now we're supposed to believe he's waiting at the warehouse?”
“His words,” the messenger said. “You can make what you like of it, as long as there are no more outbursts on our dock.”
“One of my crew is missing,” Nel said. “A girl.”
“A fox-girl,” Piper put in.
“She has a tail,” Gabbi added, talking over Piper. “A bushy one.”
Nel glared round at her crew. “Would all of you be quiet?” She turned back to the messenger. “Her name's Violet, my cabin girl. She's a Kitsune.”
“You can post a flyer at any office,” the Spider's Web messenger said. “For all the good it will do. People who go missing here tend to end up being put to work, doing one thing or another . . .”
“Skipper,” Gabbi whispered, alarmed.
“I know, Gabbi, I know,” Nel muttered. Dammit, what had happened to the girl? It wasn't even that far from the ship to the bar. Put to work. That could mean slavery or it could mean worse. Hells. For all she knew Cauldron used Kitsune tails for dusters.
She waved for someone to show the messenger off the ship, not bothering to see who it was.
“What's the plan, Skipper?” Gabbi asked, her round face anxious. “We need to get Violet and the captain back.”
“We should take off,” Quill snorted. “Take off and leave this place while we still have a ship to leave with.”
Gabbi whirled on the Kelpie. “You unfaithful, dried out little skink! Don't you even think that! We are not leaving Violet, or the captain.”
Tantamount Page 10
