“You Vaughn?” he demanded.
Nel felt that flicker of distaste she experienced every time she heard her last name spoken. Didn't like her last name, hated her first name, didn't like people who addressed her with either.
She ignored the question. “Where's Ebon?”
“Inside,” the goon grunted. “I'm to take your weapon before you see him.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“Wasn't a question.”
The guards stepped forward to relieve Nel of her weapons. They froze when they found her wand pointed directly at them.
“Wasn't a debate either. I'm not giving up my wand,” she said quietly.
Sweat beaded on the brow of Ebon's lackey, his eyes squirming on the tip of Nel's wand.
“I need to take it,” he repeated, stubbornly.
“So tell me where you want to take it, then?”
“Come now, there's no need for all this,” Ebon's voice broke the deadlock. Nel's target swung his head wildly to look for his boss. She didn't move her eyes.
“Miss Vaughn,” Ebon said in his slick, oily voice. “Every time I see you you're threatening one of my employees.”
“Hire smarter ones,” Nel said, watching the hired help back up to an invisible line behind Ebon. She slung her wand back into its holster. “They keep doing stupid stuff.”
“Yes, well,” Ebon didn't disagree, “good help is hard to find. Maybe we can help each other out in that regard.”
“Doubt that.”
Ebon sighed. “I think you disagree with me just to disagree . . . with me.”
“Got that, did you?”
“Could we perhaps continue this inside?” Ebon motioned to the warehouse behind him. “There's some things I wish to show you.”
“In there?” Nel said pointedly.
Ebon rolled his eyes in irritation, the first genuine emotion he'd displayed. “Miss Vaughn, you've already shown me you're more than ready to shoot first and forget about asking questions. This warehouse has goods, most of them owned by me. They're fragile, valuable, and I don't want them damaged. Believe me when I tell you that inviting you inside poses just as much risk for me as you feel it does you.”
Nel smiled, patting the wand at her side. “So long as that's understood.”
“It better be.” Ebon glared round at his people. “Nobody start anything, understand.”
He made sure it wasn't a question.
Ebon led Nel inside the warehouse. Rows and rows of crates were stacked high to the ceiling with barely breathing room between them. The corridors were narrow, just barely wide enough to accommodate the merchandise. Labourers strained with small, wooden wheeled carts to move still more crates about. Space at a premium then. The crates for the most part were wooden shipping boxes, stamped with symbols. Medical symbols, Nel realised.
In one corner of the warehouse on a raised platform, squeezed back from the storage shelves was a makeshift office, with chairs and a desk piled high with papers. Seated in one of those chairs was Horatio, twisting this way and that to try and get away from the guard positioned behind him.
“Nel!” he called, trying to rise. He was shoved back down into his chair.
“Captain.” Nel rushed her steps to reach him, only to find herself restrained by a hand to her shoulder. She was spun around, coming face to face with Ebon. Her first instinct was to go for her wand.
“Easy,” he anticipated her response, holding up his other hand placatingly. “Your captain is just fine, you can see that for yourself. Now it's time for us all to talk business.”
“Take your hand off me,” Nel said. “Now.”
Ebon waited a moment then with deliberate slowness took his hand off her shoulder. “Can we dispense with the idle threats now?”
Nel was tempted to hit the man. “They're not idle.”
“They're really not,” Horatio chimed in.
“As you say,” Ebon said. “But we have the matter of the transfer of your ship into my hands to settle.”
“You're not getting my ship,” Horatio hollered. “I'll scuttle her first.”
“Ship's beat pretty bad,” Nel told Ebon. “You must have seen for yourself. Gonna cost us just to get her back up again. You take her off us, those debts land on you. I'm not paying for you to fly away and leave my crew in this sinkhole.”
Ebon smiled. “She's a good ship with a good reputation. She'll fly again.”
“Reputation's only as good as the crew and the captain. You take her over and they're both gone,” Nel warned.
Ebon considered this. “You're not doing yourself any favours here, Vaughn.”
“Not looking for favours, Ebon. And stop using my last name. I don't like having it and I like hearing it less.”
“Chanel, then.” Ebon switched to her given name.
Nel gave him a flat look. “No.”
Ebon shrugged.
“I see my captain but I'm still down one more crew member.” Nel narrowed her eyes at Ebon. “You want this discussion to go anywhere you tell me where she is.”
Ebon stared at her. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”
If it wasn't genuine confusion on his face it played the part well. Nel hesitated. She'd been sure Ebon must have grabbed Violet on her way back to the ship. He'd surely had people watching the tavern where he first hit her up about the Tantamount. It was what she would have done.
“Nel,” Horatio called, “what are you talking about?”
“Our cabin girl, Violet, went missing after I sent her back to the ship to warn them about you.” She punctuated the accusation with a stabbing finger in Ebon's direction, since she was speaking more for his benefit. Horatio couldn't help her right now.
“That had nothing to do with me,” Ebon said. “What sort of operation do you think I'm running here?”
“You're holding my captain,” Nel reminded him with a growl, tapping her wand hilt for emphasis.
“He tried to run out on a debt.”
“I want my crew back,” Nel said. “All of my crew.”
“And I'm not in the business of kidnapping children.”
“And I should believe that?” Nel scoffed. “This is Cauldron.”
“And things like that happen here—the Spider's Web control is not as absolute as they'd have us believe—but they are not my doing,” Ebon insisted. “If I had the girl she'd be of more use to me in this negotiation than any other I could think of. But I assure you, my operations do not involve such deplorable actions.”
“Don't try and sell me on your operation. Are you forgetting I saw that rabble you tried to take my ship with?” Nel said.
“Security,” Ebon said.
“What rabble?” Horatio yelped. “What happened? Nel, is the ship all right?”
Nel ignored her captain. “Security has restraint, you had a bunch of hired thugs.”
“You get what you pay for, and around here you pay for what you can get.” Ebon shrugged. “Do you believe me concerning the girl or not? If not, then we have a problem.”
Nel looked to Horatio. He shook his head in a negative. “I haven't seen her, Nel.”
Which meant Violet was still out there, alone.
“I believe you,” Nel said. “For now. But we still have a problem.”
“Which brings me to my next point.” Ebon walked over to Horatio and took a seat behind the desk, motioning for Nel to take the remaining chair. She declined and chose to remain standing. Ebon frowned in annoyance but then dismissed the guard standing behind Horatio. The captain squirmed in his chair, finally free to get up but now seeming compelled to stay, at least for a moment.
Ebon pulled a tattered paper out from his pocket, the deed to the Tantamount he'd produced at the drinking hole. Nel and Horatio watched as he placed it on the desk in front of him.
“These,” he said distastefully, “are fake.”
Nel and Horatio exchanged a look.
“But you two already knew that.”
&n
bsp; Nel folded her arms. The captain laughed manically, almost giggling.
Ebon's eyes narrowed in him. “You tried to hustle me.”
“Can't lose what you don't have,” the captain chortled. “Besides, you stacked the deck. I saw it.”
Ebon pinched the fake papers between his fingers like he was about to rip them in two. “It would be a lot harder to claim your ship now.”
“Much harder,” the captain agreed.
“It's a difficult decision for me to make,” Ebon went on, “as to whether I'd lose more face trying to pursue a claim based on forged papers.”
He looked at Nel. “Or letting a gambling debt like this slide. People might think I'd gone soft. I can't have that.”
Nel waited. There was an offer coming, one that would have hooks and barbs in it, something difficult to swallow but slightly more palatable than trying to settle a challenge for ownership of the Tantamount through Cauldron's convoluted legal system. She knew they were going to have to take it, Ebon knew it, hells, probably even Horatio knew it. They still had to go through the set piece.
“So here's my offer,” Ebon started. “You have a ship, I have a claim on it. You do a job for me, I forget about that claim.”
“What sort of job?” Nel asked.
“A delivery. I need a cargo sent somewhere that strictly speaking . . . it shouldn't be going.”
Nel glared. “Why's that?”
“It wouldn't be . . . to my advantage to be seen playing sides in this matter. Or attracting the wrong kind of attention.”
“Why us?” Nel glanced at her captain. “Of all the dubious captains and runabout ships in all the ports . . .”
“Nel,” Horatio complained.
“You're currently set for Vice.” Ebon leaned back in his chair. “Fully loaded, correct?”
Nel didn't answer. Horatio did, and she sighed. She glared at him but he didn't seem to notice.
“Vice is a peculiar market, very needy,” Ebon mused, as though talking to himself. “They like a discreet crew who take good care of their cargo. They like it to arrive . . . unsampled.”
“They have the biggest narcotic trade this side of the Free Lane Rimworlds. Let's not be stepping around that,” Nel said.
“And you were headed there with an undisclosed cargo,” Ebon added.
“Nothing illegal or undisclosed about our cargo,” Nel said.
“Legal is a vague term out this way.” Ebon shrugged. “Else we wouldn't be having this conversation.”
“Got a point?” Nel growled. “Get to it.”
“Your ship is thin-hulled for a trader, correct?” Ebon said.
“Seems you know a lot about my ship, Ebon.”
“I know she runs cold, good for long runs with perishable cargo.”
“There's a war going on near Grange,” Nel said, her eyes narrowing. “Thatch. Civil war, messy stuff, bad politics. Lots of money for someone there.”
Ebon tapped his hands together softly in admiration. “Very good, first officer,” he said approvingly. “Very, very good.”
“What?” Horatio said. “What's going on?”
“Take a look around us, Captain,” Nel said quietly. “What do you see?”
Horatio arched his neck, trying to look everywhere at once. It popped, loud enough to be heard. “Ow,” he exclaimed, reaching up to cradle the back of his neck.
Ebon shook his head. “He doesn't get it.”
“Get what?” Horatio complained. “All I see is a bunch of crates.”
“Explain something to me,” Ebon addressed his question to Nel. “From our first conversation, the way you talked about the Tantamount anyone would think it was your own personal property. The crew refer to you as Skipper. And yet,” he looked at Horatio with something like contempt, “this man is the captain. A captain who as it turns out walks around with forged ownership papers. He strikes me as less than competent. How has he remained such?”
“Well, see, I have this hat,” Horatio started mumbling.
“Captain,” Nel interrupted. Horatio shrugged, leaning back on his chair so just the back feet were on the ground.
“We have an arrangement,” Nel told Ebon.
“And I have this hat,” Horatio repeated, starting to rock his chair and pointing at his head.
Nel sighed, shaking her own head. “It suits both of us.”
“Perhaps you and I could come to an arrangement,” Ebon suggested.
“Which part of suits both of us was unclear?” Nel retorted.
“Think about it.” Ebon smiled.
“Thought about it. Still no,” Nel said shortly.
Ebon smiled thinly. “Loyalty, how quaint.”
“The devil you know, Masaius.”
“Devil,” he glanced at Horatio, who smiled back. “Yes. To our delivery then.”
“What delivery?” Horatio said in exasperation.
“Medical supplies,” Nel told him. “To Thatch.” She glared at her captain. “Thatch, imagine that?”
“Grange, actually,” Ebon corrected. “Was there something about Thatch . . . Skipper?”
Horatio broke in. “Medical supplies? Which ones? And why Grange? You just said there's a war going on there.”
“There is,” Nel confirmed.
Horatio turned to Nel, then to Ebon, then threw up his hands. “Fine,” he muttered.
“Do we have a deal?” Ebon asked.
“What's the catch?” Nel asked. “Everything comes with a catch.”
“Yes, the catch here being that we're going to have to establish some trust for this to work,” Ebon agreed. “Now how do you suggest we go about doing that?”
“You've got some suggestions, no doubt,” Nel muttered.
Ebon's thin smile was back. Nel was starting to hate it. “How would you feel about leaving your captain here?”
Nel made a face. There was no way she was leaving without the captain. Neither would most of the crew— they'd mutiny at the idea. Most of them hadn't had anywhere to go before the captain had taken them on. Except Quill, she thought, grimacing. Quill and maybe Jack. They'd probably leave Horatio, Violet, and herself without much more than a second thought. Maybe Quill even fancied himself as captain. He'd hate the job—too much people work involved—but likely he hadn't thought about that. If he had thought about it his solution probably involved long walks off the short end of the ship.
“No deal,” she said.
Ebon nodded like he'd expected that. “Then if you won't leave someone here, I'll have to send someone with you.”
Nel stared at him, considering the options. “Sure. Why don't you come along then?”
Her response sparked a smile out of Ebon, not a nice one. She didn't think he had those. “Too soon, first officer. You'd have me over the side once we cleared the envelope.”
“Oh, she would not,” Horatio told him.
“I don't like blackmail,” Nel said.
“Nor do I.” Ebon shrugged. “Let's not forget I have a legitimate claim to your ship here.”
“Not with those papers, you don't.”
“The intent was to gamble the ship. The papers, fake or not, are a promissory note.” Ebon stared Nel down, daring her to claim otherwise. She dropped her gaze first.
“All right then,” she said. “You're sending somebody with us. Tell me about them.”
“Of course. But in exchange why don't you tell me about just whose name I might find on the real papers to the Tantamount?”
Nel smiled. “Not yours, Ebon, never yours.”
It sounded almost like bells but it wasn't. It was the clinking of links of chain against each other. Links that weighted down Violet's arms and legs, made her hands and feet hurt. They'd been put on tight—she thought her hands at least had taken on a darker tinge but it was hard to tell in the dim lighting. Her head hurt and she could still taste something coppery, blood, in her mouth. That might not have been hers though. She'd bitten the hand that covered her mouth as hard as she could
when they'd grabbed her. Bitten someone hard enough to make them scream. Scream and hit her 'til she blacked out. There was a painful sort of satisfaction to that last memory.
She'd woken alone and hadn't seen anyone since. But she could hear people moving around. Somewhere outside and she could only tell there was an outside because of cracks of light seeping into her room. Enough to tell there was a wooden door blocking the exit. A wooden door, four stone walls, and nothing else but mouldy straw and her.
But outside she could hear other chains, suggesting she wasn't alone. That first time it really had sounded like the Tantamount's bells and Violet had to repress a sob at the thought. The Tantamount seemed far away now. Far away and maybe gone for good—she hadn't gotten anywhere near the ship with the skipper's message. Hadn't been able to warn Quill and the others.
She hadn't even got close, barely more than a street before someone had plucked her off it. How long ago was that now? It was hard to measure time, no way to tell how long she'd been out either. Maybe she could still get back to the ship. Even if it was too late to warn them they must have noticed she wasn't back by now.
Although, maybe they hadn't. Quill wouldn't miss her, she knew that. Nor Jack—maybe he'd regret the chance to order her around and turn her tail into a good luck charm but that was it. Some of the other crew had made it plain they didn't care for her either.
The captain? Would he even realise? Sometimes it was like he didn't know who anyone was, beyond that he was captain of the Tantamount. Except the skipper—he always remembered the skipper. The skipper would realise something had happened to her. But would she care? Violet had let her down, and, after all, the skipper had never wanted her aboard the Tantamount in the first place.
The door opened with a suddenness that shocked her, a wall of blinding light that turned the world to white. Violet threw her arms up to cover her face even as she heard heavy footsteps enter her room. Straw was kicked into the air and her visitor made sounds of disgust.
“And aren't you the pretty wee thing,” he said. The voice was familiar but Violet couldn't place it.
“They say tails like yours are good luck,” her unseen visitor said, like Korrigan Jack had. “Guess it didn't do you no good. Hope the next owner does better.”
Tantamount Page 12
