Tantamount

by Thomas J. Radford

  “What?” Quill said eventually.

  “What, Skipper,” Nel corrected him pointedly.

  “What . . . Skipper,” Quill repeated grudgingly. She knew the word didn't mean much to him, that was why he so often forgot to use it. To Quill, actions spoke louder than words; the fact that he did what Nel and the captain told him to do, most of the time, was all the respect they were ever likely to get out of the navigator.

  Which was what made his sudden camaraderie with Sharpe so puzzling. The two had been almost friendly before. Things like that made Nel suspicious. When things like that involved Quill it made her downright paranoid.

  “Violet,” Nel said without elaborating.

  Quill chuckled. “That was entertaining.”

  Nel's paranoia flared. “Tell me what happened. How did you find them?”

  “You wouldn't rather ask the girl? Maybe Sharpe?” Quill grinned, revealing sharp, dagger-like teeth.

  “I'm asking you. Don't make me beat the answers out of you, Quill, I'm in the mood for it.”

  Quill chuckled again. “The mood suits you, Skipper.” There was no sarcasm attached to the word this time. “You should indulge yourself more often.”

  “Tell me what happened before I go find my skinning knife,” Nel warned.

  Quill shrugged. “Sharpe left the ship. I followed him.”

  “Was this before or after Ebon Masaius tried to board us?” Nel asked.

  “After,” Quill confirmed.

  “So he didn't leave the ship 'til then?”

  Quill frowned, a subtle and hard to read expression on his scaly face. “Possibly, maybe . . . I don't know. I didn't see him until he told us about the boarding party. He could have left.”

  Not very helpful. Nel steered them back to the subject of Violet.

  Sharpe had already told Nel his side of the story. But she trusted Quill's word more than she ever would Sharpe's. The Kelpie didn't lie. He just didn't care whether people believed him or not.

  “So you followed Sharpe. And he led you to Violet? Did he have something to do with—”

  “No,” Quill interrupted. “He did not.” Again that chuckle—Nel was getting sick of it. “He sought out a man, a fixer, claiming he was looking for work. They attacked him.”

  Nel folded her arms. Better. “How did he handle himself?”

  “Well, Skipper.” Quill nodded approvingly. “Very well.”

  “So he didn't need any help?”

  Quill shrugged. “I helped, he didn't need it.”

  Nel sighed. “What sort of work was he looking for?”

  “The sort that would get him off-world. Whether he intended it to be in the same fashion as the fixer had in mind . . .” Quill shook his head ruefully.

  “What?” Nel pushed. “What happened?”

  “The fixer liked what he saw. Sharpe was after work, his new friend arranged it. He had someone take us to the stocks, said they were going to move some cargo to a private port on the far side of Cauldron. Part of that cargo was your cabin girl.” Quill snorted, even now he didn't seem to regard Violet as of any particular importance. Which made his actions all the more puzzling.

  Quill said, “We put on quite a show for Sharpe's new friend. His friends thought to do well out of us.”

  “As guards,” Nel concluded.

  Quill chuckled, a rasping sound from deep in his throat. “As trade goods.”

  “As slaves?” Nel was genuinely surprised. “They tried to take Sharpe?”

  “Tried to take both of us,” Quill said dryly. “I helped, remember. I should have known better.”

  Nel saw red, hand clenching around her wand. “When we go back to Cauldron to pick up our cargo you're going to point the rest of these people out to me, Quill.”

  Quill shrugged. “You would have cared?”

  “You're my crew, Quill,” Nel said bluntly. “Nobody touches my crew. You know that better than anyone.”

  A moment's awkward silence.

  “Yes, well,” Quill's tongue flicked out, “they were spending so much time congratulating themselves on how much money they were going to make out of us they were slow to actually restrain us. Sharpe,” Quill hissed with mirth, “Sharpe said that in a situation like that, you always kill the mouthy one who bleats out his plans before enacting them.”

  “You killed them then?”

  “One or two,” Quill said. “No one who would be missed if we had to go back to Cauldron.”

  “How many were there?” Nel asked.

  “One or two.”

  Nel snorted. “Of course. Both mouthy?”

  “Very,” was Quill's dry response. “In any case I went back, took my place as a guard. Sharpe went to get you.”

  Nel stared. “You went back? After they tried to capture you?”

  Quill shrugged. “It might have been the two mouthy ones’ own plan. If it wasn't . . . likely they would have hesitated before trying a second time, at least until they found out what happened to the first two.”

  “That was risky,” Nel said.

  “We didn't need long. Just long enough for you to come and play at being a hero, Skipper.”

  “Hells, Quill.” Nel shook her head. “You did as much to rescue Violet as I did. You and Sharpe.”

  Quill looked annoyed. “We killed the mouthy ones. The rest was coincidence.”

  “You took the biggest risks. You're a hero.”

  An angry hiss. “Enough.”

  “Can you imagine what the rest of the crew will say?”

  “The rest of the crew do not need to know.”

  “That you rescued Violet? The girl you claim to despise?”

  “That is not funny.”

  “Don't worry, hero,” Nel chuckled. “Your secret's safe with me.”

  Quill gave her a level look, his tail thrashing violently behind him. “Humans,” he snorted in disgust. “Worthless, ungrateful gutter trash. You should be locked up and put down, the lot of you.”

  “That's never going to happen, Quill.” Nel grinned. “Not with people like you around to look out for us ungrateful humans.”

  “It was unintentional,” Quill snarled. “Sharpe was not out looking for the girl, it was pure chance we happened across her. He was looking to find the first ship off-world that would take him. Serendipity fell into his lap.”

  “I knew that,” Nel said. “I just wondered if you did.”

  Quill stared angrily.

  “Sharpe came back to get me because you were there, otherwise we'd never have heard. You pricked his conscience. So really it's all because of you.”

  “Maybe I intended to go with him,” Quill growled. “Escape this vermin infested ship.”

  Nel grinned. “I doubt that. You might not care for the vermin, but you do care for the ship.”

  Quill shook with barely restrained frustration. “This is not funny.”

  “No, it's heroism,” Nel said as her parting words.

  Quill called out after her, loud enough for most of the ship to hear. “This is not funny! This was never funny!”

  A small, dishevelled person threw themselves on Nel, wrapping limbs around her. Violet was all arms, legs, and tails. Nel had to pry her off. It took her a few moments.

  “Violet,” she said, giving the girl a quick look. She was dirty, with a few ugly bruises she hadn't had this morning. Someone had made a half-hearted effort to clean her up and comb her hair, probably Gabbi as Nel couldn't see Jack bothering. But her eyes were still bright and she . . .

  “Violet,” Nel repeated, “do you have more than one tail now?”

  Violet twisted, peering over her own shoulder. Yes, Nel could see the girl had two tails now, two bushy fox-tails doing laps, chasing each other.

  Violet shrugged self-consciously. “It happens.”

  Did it? Nel hadn't known that. Was it stress related, a maturity thing? Was it temporary? One more thing to look into—Kitsune physiology wasn't her strong point. Besides, she had other things more pres
sing.

  “What happened to you, Vi?” she asked.

  “Sorry, Skipper.” The cabin girl's face fell. “They got me.”

  They. The memory of Brawn's face as he fell away from her returned. Brawn, who had met her and Violet at that checkpoint. She hadn't thought anything of his crass remarks about Violet at the time, anything more than the usual gutterside trash talk she'd expect on the docks at somewhere like Cauldron. Had he taken an interest then, or was it just opportunistic of him later on, finding Violet alone and vulnerable? Even worse was the nagging guilt that he might have done it as a way to get at her. But when had Brawn become involved in something as degenerate as the slave trade anyway? She'd been at a low point that night she'd first met him, no denying that, but had her judgement been that off?

  “Skipper,” Piper's voice interrupted.

  Nel saw Piper and Sharpe had come up.

  “I'm wondering,” Sharpe opened. “Who brought the big rock? The one stowed down in the hold that's all bright and shiny.”

  “Personal cargo, belongs to our newest passenger,” Nel said.

  “Impressive,” Sharpe commented. “Wish I had a rock that big. But I thought I was your newest passenger. This ain't the easiest ship to book passage on.”

  “We had a deal,” Nel said. “That's the only reason you're here.”

  “Because I brought your stray puppy back.” Sharpe grinned at Violet. “Earning my keep so far, aren't I? What'd the big rock's owner have to do? De-barnacle the keel? Volunteer to taste the soup first every night?”

  “The soup is fine,” Piper said. “Though there could be more of it.”

  “Let's hope the big rock doesn't want any then,” Sharpe said.

  “Rocks do not eat soup,” Piper told him pointedly.

  “No, they probably drink it like everybody else does,” Sharpe agreed. “Have you ever tried sticking a fork in soup? Very messy.”

  Piper considered this. “You are a very strange little man.”

  “I'm not little, you're just big. Too much soup.” Sharpe poked Piper in the belly with one finger for emphasis.

  Violet laughed. Even Nel shook her head ruefully. Piper, despite his quirks, was easy enough to get along with, Violet impressionable, and the captain delusional. But even Quill seemed to have warmed to their marooned stray. And if there was one person on the Tantamount she could depend upon to dislike every other person it was Quill. The only thing he seemed to like was the ship and navigating it.

  “Has Quill laid in our course, Skipper?” Piper asked, as if he could read the tangent of her thoughts.

  “Yes,” Nel said. “We're on a direct course. No more stopovers. Now how are the repairs holding up?”

  “Well, Skipper,” Piper assured her. “Trollish guarantees. But I still want to inspect them some more, ensure there are no leaks.” He nodded to each of them, patted Violet on the shoulder, an affectionate gesture that made the girl's knees buckle, and left for below decks.

  “Like trolls themselves,” Sharpe commented. “Not pretty but durable. And damned hard to get rid of. Just as well you didn't let any of them hire on.”

  “You did not hire on,” Nel reminded him.

  Sharpe grinned. “The pleasure of your company is all the payment I require, Skipper.” He winked at Violet as he spoke. “So, next stop is Grange then?”

  “Grange,” Nel confirmed.

  “Grange?” Violet echoed. “Where's that?”

  “That's where I'm from, little one,” Sharpe said with a gleam in his eye. “The stories I could tell you . . .”

  “Later,” Nel interrupted. “Violet, you've got duties. Get to them.”

  She made to go herself.

  “Vaughn.”

  Nel stopped, head half turned, already grimacing at the sound of her name.

  “She's Guild,” was all Sharpe said.

  Nel paused. “You're not talking about Violet.”

  “No.”

  “And how do you know Scarlett is Guild?” Nel asked over her shoulder. “Until a moment ago you didn't even seem to know we had any more passengers.” She turned to face Sharpe.

  Sharpe blinked slow, unassuming eyes at her. “She is.”

  Nel hesitated. “I know.”

  The unspoken question hung there between them, neither quite willing to offer up the source of their recognition.

  “I served in the Alliance,” Nel said. “I worked with the Guild sometimes.”

  Sharpe raised an eyebrow. “The Alliance only asks for Guild help if they can't avoid it. They consider it a last resort. An embarrassing one, at that.”

  “It's been known to happen.”

  “On unlisted, secret missions, certainly.” Sharpe nodded. “What exactly did you say you did for the Alliance?”

  “I was a sailor. And I never said.”

  “A sailor who worked with Guildsmen?”

  “Even the Guild can't sail the void on their own. Someone has to fly them to where they're going.”

  “True enough.” Sharpe shrugged, letting the issue bide.

  “So why does a beat up ship like mine running a mercy load of medicines to a backwater warzone rate a Guildswoman, Sharpe?” Nel folded her arms.

  “That's funny,” Sharpe said. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

  “How did you make her as Guild, Sharpe?”

  Sharpe stared at her, still smiling. “Keep an eye on her, Skipper. You can never tell with the Guild.”

  Nel glared at the small of Sharpe's back as he walked away from her. Murderous thoughts flashed through her mind, briefly, but she considered it a good thing for Sharpe that she didn't have a knife on her person at that moment. Sharpe was doing it to her, just as he'd done it to the rest of her crew. Getting her to open up. And she was ready to throttle him for it.

  Nel found Scarlett descending the stairs from the bridge, having relinquished the helm to Quill. Behind the woman, Nel's navigator fussed over his territory, brushing imaginary dust and smudges from fixtures. He paced from one railing to another, suspicious, no doubt, of what had happened to his ship in his absence. He gazed critically up at the Tantamount's bulging sails, easing the pressure on some, intensifying it on others.

  “Your crewman doesn't seem to like me much,” Scarlett said dryly.

  Nel shrugged. “Quill doesn't much like anyone. Quill likes ships, this one in particular. Far as he's concerned no one else could ever do right by her.”

  “Typical sailor,” Scarlett agreed. “You'll explain to him this was a one time arrangement?”

  “He wouldn't have it any other way.”

  “Good.”

  “A moment.” Nel stopped her from turning away. The woman regarded her though tinted glasses. That irked Nel for some reason—she couldn't tell what colour the woman's eyes were. Was that where she took her name from? The rose tinted glasses, though the colour was darker than that in fact. Or were the glasses a play on her name, an affectation?

  “I appreciate you helping out. It means something, to myself, the captain, and the crew, that we were able to leave Cauldron with all the souls we landed with.”

  Scarlett considered, pursing thin lips. “Suppose I hadn't been at hand to navigate the ship. What would you have done?”

  The question took Nel by surprise. “Improvised.”

  “Improvised,” Scarlett repeated thoughtfully. “How so?”

  “I won't leave my crew behind,” Nel said. “Not in a place like Cauldron, not ever.”

  Scarlett seemed to accept her answer. “I can admire your dedication to that.” She paused. “I hope you'll show the same resolve in the rest of our dealings.”

  Nel felt her brow furrow at this. “We'll get you to where we're going, you can feel assured in that.”

  “Good,” Scarlett said. “I'm going to retire now. We can speak later.”

  She left Nel pondering. Nel was still pondering when Horatio wandered past, a bottle of brandy in one hand, a pair of goblets in the other.

 
“Nel, there you are,” he said. “Where have you been?”

  “Busy.” Nel frowned at the bottle. She'd thought the captain almost out of liquor. He must have restocked on Cauldron. If he'd run true to his usual tastes he'd likely run up another sweat-inducing debt to do so.

  “Busy?” Horatio thought about that, then brightened. “Violet, how did that go? Did we get her back?”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “Excellent, capital. Give her my regards, will you? Or should I do it? I could do it. Where is she? We did bring her along this time, didn't we? Wouldn't do to have left her in Cauldron after all that. Didn't feel right at all, launching the ship without you and the others. Especially Quill. Imagine flying a ship without a navigator, who knew you could do that?” Horatio marvelled, looking down at the bottle he was holding.

  “Seen Scarlett, Nel?” he asked, still looking at the bottle. “Was thinking I'd offer her a drink, now that she's done flying the ship. Wouldn't touch a drop before, sensible woman, don't drink and fly, terrible things might happen. Might as well let the golem fly. Ugly thing, isn't it? Still, it comes well recommended. Knows how to keep quiet too—some people around here could learn from that.”

  “Captain,” Nel hesitated, reluctant to say anything. “I need to ask you something.”

  A flash of irritation crossed Horatio's face. Instant suspicion.

  “About Scarlett,” Nel said.

  “What about her?” Horatio was almost hostile.

  “Captain,” Nel said. “We almost didn't make it to the ship. If we'd missed—”

  “Nel,” Horatio interrupted. “You never miss.”

  Nel smiled. “But if we had . . .”

  “We would have turned right around and come got you, of course. Silly question, girl. What did you think we would have done?”

  “With Scarlett flying the ship . . .”

  “My ship,” Horatio corrected. “I'm the captain of this ship, the captain of the Tantamount. She goes where I tell her. And she doesn't go anywhere without her skipper and her navigator.” He eyed the bottle again; remembered something. “But even so, I must offer Scarlett a thank you libation. Ta-ta for now, Nel. We'll talk later.”

  “Skipper,” yet another voice interrupted Nel's thoughts as the captain left to pursue his hopeless romantic leanings.