Tantamount

by Thomas J. Radford

  “Oi, Kelpie,” Jack bellowed, pushing his way through the Alliance sailors. He didn't seem at all bothered by their appearance. “The children are hungry.”

  Quill stared at him. “So?”

  “So?” Jack grunted. “So what do I do about it? What do children eat anyway?”

  “Why are you asking me, imbecile?” Quill grated. “What does the pest-child Violet eat? Feed them that.”

  “Violet ain't no kid,” Jack said. “She's crew, crew ain't children. Can't be. Wouldn't be able to crew, would they?”

  “Then feed them that damned rodent.” Quill turned to Nel. “How is this my problem? Why is he not asking you about this?”

  “Bandit?” Jack shook his head. “That won't work, he's looking after them. I cook him and Piper'll get mad at me. Gabbi too. And I won't have nobody to catch the rats, then what're you going to eat, Quill?”

  “You—” Quill clutched at the railing furiously.

  “Let it go, Quill,” Nel said.

  Quill muttered choice insults under his breath as his claws gouged deep grooves in the railing.

  “Besides, I get rid of Bandit then someone else has to look after the kids. And I'd have to do it cause you're too ugly, Quill.” Jack shook his head some more and glanced over at the Alliance sailors. “You lot, what do kids eat?”

  Stoker gestured to one of his men. “Go help the cook find something for the children to eat.”

  “Assistant cook,” Jack grunted. “Gabbi's the cook. But she ain't here right now.”

  Stoker pondered this. “I don't even remember what happened to our cook.”

  “Resigned,” said one of the other sailors. “On account of no one was eating his muck no more.”

  “That his idea or ours?”

  “I forget. Could have been ours.”

  “Sounds too smart for us.”

  “Ain't so smart. Look at us. We ain't been eating right.”

  Nel chuckled. Some things never changed.

  “The rest of you go man the lines,” she said. “Stand by to cast off.”

  “Aye, Skipper,” the five remaining sailors chorused with mismatched salutes.

  “You ready, Quill?” Nel asked of her navigator.

  “Aye,” the Kelpie nodded. “It'll take us longer to get back to Rim. We can't try the corridor with this much weight.”

  “Is that practicality I hear from you, Loveland?” Nel asked.

  “I like my ship in one piece,” Quill said dryly. “And I'm eager to see our dear captain again.”

  “So am I,” Nel admitted. “Wait, why?”

  “He owes me money,” Quill grinned. “I won the bet.”

  “What bet?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Why, about you . . . Skipper.” Quill's grin was malicious now.

  “Me?”

  “You. And Sharpe.”

  “What about Sharpe?” Nel said, feeling her voice drop to a threatening range.

  “The captain took a liking to the man, he wanted him to join the crew. As he always does. I believed you had had your fill humouring the captain on this matter. Thus, a bet.”

  “Damn you, Quill, how long have you and the captain been putting bets on me?”

  “A while.” Quill shrugged. “Since before you joined the ship, if you must know.”

  “What?” Nel spluttered.

  “Remember the state the captain found you in? The captain believed he could make a decent officer out of you.”

  “And you bet against me?” Nel derided him.

  “Aye, I did,” Quill said. “You did not impress me at first.”

  Nel paused. “At first?”

  “And once you did I wondered why you stayed.” Quill shrugged.

  “Why do you?” Nel retorted.

  “Where else would I go?”

  Nel glared. “Cast off, you gods-damned Kelpie. Get us back to Rim so I can bludgeon our captain.”

  “Aye, Skipper, as you say. I had coin on that as well.”

  Violet pressed a wet cloth to the captain's brow, covering the swelling. He looked up sheepishly as she placed his own hand against the cloth and held it there.

  “What happened?” he asked her.

  “You hit your head, Captain,” Violet told him, leaning back on her heels. She studied the captain with some concern. He had taken a toll in the last while.

  “How?” the captain grimaced, sitting up. “How did it happen?”

  “You were trampled.”

  “Trampled?” Horatio grumbled. “That's embarrassing. Humiliating. Why'd I do that?”

  “You don't remember? Wallace carried you back.”

  “Who's Wallace?”

  “Him in the corner.” Violet pointed to where the Draugr was sitting. Wallace had kept up with them after they'd fled the docks, then ended up carrying the captain after he got caught up in a press of panicking locals. And he still had a sizeable hole in his chest where Onyx had stabbed him. Violet had tried stuffing it with rags but the Draugr didn't bleed, didn't seem bothered much at all. He'd had no problems carrying the captain after Horatio had been run over by the panicked people of Rim.

  Horatio grumbled some more and tried to stand. Violet pushed him back down. “Gabbi said you weren't to do that. That you're to lie down and stay put.”

  “I'm captain, I tell Gabbi what to do, not the other way,” Horatio complained.

  “Never argue with the cook,” Violet reminded him.

  “What about arguing with the captain?” Horatio complained. “Cabin girl telling me what to do, whole chain of command is upside down. I want my ship back.”

  “The skipper will bring her back, Captain,” Violet said. “Won't be long now.”

  The captain squinted at her, reaching to explore the back of his head with his free hand. He winced at what he found. “You're starting to sound like her, Violet. Like Nel.”

  Violet shrugged.

  “Yes,” Horatio sighed. “That's what she'd say too.”

  Violet cast her eyes down to her fingers, twisting them around each other. Like her tails. It took a deliberate effort on her part but she untwined the pair of them, curling them round to where she could see both.

  “Still just the two, Violet?” the captain asked her.

  Violet nodded. Still just the two.

  “Good,” the captain declared. “Wouldn't want you growing up when I wasn't looking. Children do that sometimes. Very distressing, makes me think about how old I must be getting.”

  It didn't feel right. She didn't know what to do with the second tail—if she didn't keep them both wrapped up tight they'd bang into stuff or trip her up.

  Two tails, growing up, hells, I'm not growing up. Can't even stop from needing to be rescued all the time. If it ain't the skipper, it's the captain. Or Wallace. She looked for Wallace, only to find the Draugr had left. She hadn't even noticed. But the captain was still there.

  “You saved me, Captain. You and Gabbi.”

  “Good. Need to do something useful now and then. Remind everyone why I'm captain.”

  “Why'd you do it, Captain? Why'd you take me on?” Violet asked.

  Horatio eyed her thoughtfully. “You never asked me that before.”

  “Quill asks all the time. Jack too, sometimes so does the skipper.”

  “All crew like to talk,” the captain dismissed that. “Wouldn't be crew if they didn't think they knew better.”

  “I stowed away on your ship. Why didn't you throw me overboard? Why not leave me at the next port?”

  “You think I'd do that, Violet?” The captain's look was piercing now, clear-eyed despite the twinges of pain in his face.

  “I know you wouldn't, Captain. Just don't know why.”

  “You never did know Thyme, did you, Violet?”

  “No, Captain.” Violet shook her head at the unexpected mention of her predecessor. “Don't think you would have let me stay if he'd have still been alive.”

  Horatio sighed. “Nel took that boy's death hard. W
asn't anybody's fault, that fight, but they got caught up in it all the same. Quill was there too, did you know that?”

  “No, I didn't.”

  “Nel saved Quill's life. Or maybe he saved hers. I'm not even sure, I wasn't there. Always wondered if either of them were able to let it go. Felt guilty, maybe. The skipper needed something to take her mind off of Thyme. Needed to do something useful. And there you were.”

  “And Quill?” Violet asked, feeling a dryness in her throat.

  “What about Quill?”

  “Do you think he felt guilty?”

  The captain looked at her. “When he gets back with my ship we can ask him.” He frowned. “What? What is it Violet?”

  Wordlessly Violet reached into her shirt and removed the package she'd hidden there, holding it out to her captain. Horatio took it with a puzzled look, opening the case and pulling the deed out. His eyes widened as soon as he unrolled it, grey eyebrows climbing up his face.

  “Do you know what this is, Violet?” He peered over the top of the parchment to her. Violet nodded mutely.

  “Did you read it? All of it?”

  Violet shook her head.

  “So you didn't realise it's a fake?”

  Violet felt her own eyes widen.

  “Sharpe had something to do with this, didn't he?” the captain said shrewdly.

  “I . . .” Violet didn't know what to say. “I think he stole it.”

  “Strange boy.” The captain tucked the deed away in his coat pocket. “Why do you think he'd steal a fake, Violet?”

  “He can't have known it's a fake,” was all Violet could think to say.

  “Oh, he knew,” the captain assured her. “We talked about it, often, after Cauldron. He asked me where I kept the real one a few times. Subtly, of course. I didn't tell him, not that it would have mattered. He couldn't have stolen it.”

  “Why not?” Violet couldn't help asking. The captain regarded her with a sly grin and a twinkle in his eye.

  “Ah, let's just say I have my moments, lass. Brilliant, it was, even if I do say so myself. Not what Nel says, of course, but she's just worried about the day she has to put on the captain's hat.

  “Of course,” he said, tapping the deed, “that can't happen so long as I have this.”

  “Captain.” It was Gabbi, who peered anxiously at their captain, scrutinising his condition. She didn't appear satisfied with what she saw but made no comment. “You should come see this.”

  Horatio extended a hand to Violet. “Help me up, my girl. Let's go see what's about.”

  “I see smoke, Skipper.” Stoker pointed. Ahead, barely visible through the mist, was Rim.

  “For a dead man you've got good eyes,” Nel grumbled, holding a spyglass to her own. She rolled her shoulder, trying to throw Bandit off. The creature had transferred its affections from Jack to her and she didn't care for it. Everything she'd tried so far to discourage him had just made him dig his claws in deeper.

  “I can't tell if that's mist or smoke from here,” she said.

  “It's smoke, Skipper,” Stoker reaffirmed. He pointed to his eyes. “Far-sighted, always have been. Nothing's changed there.”

  “Good to know.” Nel flattened the spyglass. “Now what does it mean?”

  “Fire, probably, Skipper. Don't look like any kind of signal either.”

  “Then that's bad,” Nel grunted. “Spread the word and keep an eye out for that Alliance blockade. I'll assume you're not going to have any conflicts over this?” She raised her brows at the former Alliance midshipman.

  “Uniform's just for show now, Skipper,” Stoker assured her. “I'd take it off but we'd all prefer I kept it on.”

  “You got that right.”

  “Good, 'cause the rest of what's been happening out here ain't been right at all. How many ships did you see in that blockade?”

  “Three,” Nel said. “Two frigates and a dreadnought.”

  “Dreadnought?” Stoker tried to whistle, found that he couldn't. He made a face instead. “We should be right flattered. Could get ugly though, Skipper.”

  Nel clapped him on the shoulder. “Then let's try and be gone before the beauty pageant.” She was starting to like Stoker and his dry sense of humour. The man was a good sailor. Pity he was dead.

  Better stop that line of thought. Quill and the captain could have the books on another bet otherwise. She was still intent on making them both suffer for that.

  It had taken them just under two days to come from Grange to Rim. Quill had made good time though the strain was starting to show on him. Long trips suited him better than these short runs; he could take more time to rest and regain his strength. If they came through this, Nel vowed to seriously look into securing another navigator. If nothing else she'd be able to hold that over Quill the next time he thought about putting money on her.

  “Tell me something,” Nel said, tapping her spyglass against her thigh.

  “Aye, Skipper?” Stoker turned to face her.

  “Being like that.” She inclined her head.

  “Dead? Post mortis?”

  Nel grinned ruefully. “Draugr labour is a big part of the Alliance. Keeps the High Lanes running. What you're doing here could be considered treasonous.”

  “We don't see it that way, Skipper.” Stoker waved in his fellow sailors' direction. “Something bad happened and someone out in this blockade made a decision to do something about it. What happened to them on Grange, we couldn't stand by and do nothing, wasn't right with us.” Stoker lowered his voice. “Don't mean we're gonna start looking at the Alliance as a whole any different though.”

  “If they'd have you back . . .”

  “They can't,” Stoker said. “That's been clear to us from the start. Too many awkward questions. Better for all of us if we just go our own way and disappear.”

  “There's a lot of Draugr out there,” Nel said quietly.

  “Thousands,” Stoker agreed. “But they ain't like us.”

  “You don't think so?”

  “We had a lot of time to think down there, Skipper. More thinking than most of us have ever done before. And I don't think there's a whole lot of oppressed Draugr out there in the Alliance, if that's what you're getting at.”

  “If this was one of the old fireside stories, that's what would happen,” Nel said. “You'd go after the villains, fight for your oppressed people, free the slaves, lead a revolution against the evil overlords.”

  Stoker stared at her. And burst out laughing, which turned into an almost hacking cough. He leant over the rail, spitting out phlegm and mucus. “Skipper, you kill me,” he said, wiping at his mouth. “This ain't no fairy tale, I ain't no leader, and I've no interest in any revolution. Our ship, the Falchions, we did runs like this a lot. Carried that special sauce more than a few times. I know more than I want to know, way more than I oughta. There's no repressed slave population out there, most ain't no different from your average golem. Can't think for themselves because they don't think and they stopped thinking long time before they end up like this. And they got nothing else in common with me. The only people I got are the lads on this ship. You know how that is.”

  “I do,” Nel agreed. “But what about the people from Grange? How come all of your crew didn't ship out on the Falchions?”

  Stoker sighed. “Felt guilty, didn't we? Not their fault they got caught up in this. Them folks tried to help us, ended up like this because of it. Then there's them kids. Wouldn't be right to leave them, Skipper. Not after what Heathen did to them.”

  “What?” Nel's hand shot out, grasping Stoker by the neck of his tattered uniform, dragging his sagging face within inches of hers.

  “What do you mean, what Heathen did?” she demanded.

  Stoker looked confused. “Captain Heathen, Skipper, she was the one who took us down. I thought you knew, Sharpe said you . . .”

  “Sharpe!” Nel seethed, releasing her grip. “No, to hells with Sharpe.”

  “He said you used to serve un
der her, was why you wanted to help,” she dimly registered Stoker saying as she stormed the length of her ship, heading for the bridge.

  “Quill!” she yelled out halfway along the breadth of the Tantamount. The ship lurched under Nel, almost throwing her off her feet. She grabbed at the rigging, righting herself. A dozen feet from her the air rippled—they were meshing with Rim. Glaring at the disturbance, Nel practically threw herself up the stairs to the bridge.

  “Quill!” she yelled again, drawing her navigator's attention to her.

  “We're heavily laden,” he said, as close as he would ever get to an apology. “I couldn't slow the ship enough.”

  “You bilge swilling, gods cursed, cold blood Kelpie snake!” Nel spat every word.

  Quill scowled back at her. “You are overreacting. The mesh was not nearly that bad.” His tail flicked behind him, startled in spite of his words.

  “You're doing this because of Heathen,” Nel accused. “You stole my ship because of a damned religious argument.”

  “Ah,” Quill breathed. “Someone told you who was behind all this.”

  “Listen to me, Kelpie.” Nel kept advancing on her navigator, fists balled. “Horatio might not give a damn about your crooked past, but I do. Your past stays locked up in your damned cabin—you don't bring it out to mess the rest of us round. If your personal dramas ever affect this ship—”

  “The captain is on the dock,” Quill interrupted.

  Nel glared. “We're not done, Kelpie. We'll finish this later, you mark my words.”

  Quill didn't answer and Nel didn't linger to watch his response. While Jack and the Alliance sailors were tending to the mooring lines she vaulted down to the deck, not waiting for the ramps to be lowered. She saw Horatio and the rest of the Tantamount's crew. It hadn't escaped her attention that they weren't where they were supposed to be on the other side of Rim. They'd brought the Tantamount in on the near side of Rim, figuring it to be the most removed from any Alliance ships that might be moored at the outpost.

  Several figures were sprinting ahead of the crowd towards Nel. Violet was the first, tackling her around the waist.