After she finished eating, she picked up the jar of salve. Tolemek’s back was still to her. She swiped out some of the goo, stuck her hand under the baggy prison tunic, and dabbed at her other injuries.
Tonight she would rest, rest and heal. Tomorrow, she would think of escape, or if not escape—for where could she go from here?—sabotage. She eyed that lower bookcase, reminding herself to investigate it as soon as she had a chance. Crashing the airship might be extreme, but there were other ways to cause trouble. She smirked at the idea of bringing the craft into an Iskandian port while all of the pirates were sleeping. Nothing but a fantasy, she supposed, but surely she could come up with something to do. Even if she could just find a way to send a warning to Zirkander, that would be helpful. Then he could find a way to turn the trap on pirates.
*
Tolemek stood on the deck next to the helmsman, his hands clasped behind his back, the wind whipping his hair around. A dense fog hung over the sea ahead. He couldn’t see through it, but he knew it was a man-made phenomenon rather than a natural one. He ought to know. With the help of an engineering friend, he’d invented the machine that made it. To someone in the distance, it appeared more like clouds than fog, and certainly not like anything that could hide a flying pirate outpost with the capacity to hold a thousand men and several docked ships at one time. Only those with the coordinates, coordinates that changed every month, could find the stronghold.
“You get any information out of her?” the captain asked, coming up beside him.
“Good morning to you, also, Captain.”
“Morning was four hours ago. Tired after the night’s activities, were you?” Goroth smirked at him.
Odd how long they’d known each other and how little Goroth truly knew about him. They had shared more as instructor and student back at the proving grounds than they had in the six years they had been flying together. But that had been a different world, one where trust was the norm rather than the aberration. He considered Goroth a friend and was closer to him than most others here, but not a confidant.
“They were grueling,” Tolemek said.
Let Goroth think what he wanted of that. In truth, that conversation with Ahn had worn him out. He had wanted to give her enough of himself that she started to believe he was trustworthy, or at least that whatever plans he might have for Zirkander, he would try to keep her safe, but he had shared more than he intended. Oh, his military record was on public file with the Cofah, and there were any number of pirates who knew who he had been before he was the Deathmaker, but her questions about the people who had died because of his toxic inhalant, he wasn’t sure why he had answered them. Because she hadn’t been afraid of his laboratory and his work and she had talked to him like a human being? Or because he simply hadn’t had anyone to speak honestly with for so long? It was a strange world that he’d come to be in, one where one could talk more openly with one’s enemies than with one’s friends.
“She still sleeping?” Goroth asked.
“Yes.”
“Still chained up, right?” Goroth’s eyes narrowed. “Most people would be afraid to touch any of your concoctions in there, but she’ll be desperate, and I know you have things that could make trouble for us in the wrong hands.”
In the wrong hands. Odd how right and wrong had different meanings depending on a man’s perceptions and world view.
“She’s chained in the corner, yes.”
Initially, Tolemek had let her rest without restraint, knowing he would sleep lightly with someone else in the cabin, and trusting that he would hear if she started rummaging around. Besides, he had a few booby traps protecting the truly dangerous mixtures. But that morning, when he had woken to find her slumbering in his hammock, arms and legs flung about in a position that only a monkey could find comfortable, he had checked her hands and found a vial tucked in one. Brown Goo Number Three. He’d been more amused than annoyed—she was a prisoner; what could he expect?—and had plucked it from her grip without waking her. He had also shackled the wrist closest to the pipe again, leaving food, water, and a chamber pot within reach. The ship was already cruising into the fog bank, and he wasn’t sure when he would get back to check on her. Goroth usually dragged him to meetings with other captains whenever they docked. In part because Tolemek could contribute, but probably more as a status symbol. Some of the captains had bodyguards; Goroth had the Deathmaker.
“You ask her about the energy sources?” Goroth asked.
“She doesn’t know where they come from or how they’re made.” And all right, he hadn’t asked, but Tolemek doubted a young lieutenant would know about something that had to be top secret over in Iskandia, judging by how little the rest of the world had managed to figure out in the three decades those fliers had been in the sky.
“How about secrets related to Zirkander? Anything we can use against him?”
“She’s been close-mouthed anytime I’ve mentioned him. She won’t betray him, I sense.”
“Willingly, you mean,” Goroth said. “Didn’t she eat the food I had Cook send?”
“No, she was suspicious of it.”
Goroth slapped a hand down on the black railing, startling the helmsman a few feet away. “No wonder you didn’t get anything useful out of her.”
“She’ll have to eat eventually.”
“Your patience is admirable and annoying,” Goroth said.
“Thank you.”
He pointed a finger at Tolemek’s nose. “If the truth serum doesn’t work, we’ll need to try a more direct method of interrogating her. I know you don’t like to torture girls, but she’s Iskandian scum, and she doesn’t deserve the gentlemanly treatment.”
“I wasn’t aware being chained in a hammock was gentlemanly treatment.”
“You know what I’m talking about. Don’t let her sexy little prisoner smock dull your senses, Mek.”
Tolemek snorted. That canvas bag she was wearing was about as sexy as a box. If he had any better clothes to offer her, he would have done so. He hoped to find something on the outpost that at least fit her. There were enough female pirates that there ought to be a little shop somewhere.
Goroth clasped his forearm. “If we get Zirkander, you could take his head back to the emperor. Maybe it would earn you the redemption you always wanted.”
“I have given up on that dream. Camp Eveningson was to Cofahre what Tanglewood was to Iskandia. Those prison guards and their cudgels were extremely excited to see me.” Tolemek rubbed his ribs at the memory. He never had figured out who had leaked his name as the person responsible for all of those deaths, even if someone else had used his aerosol, but there were ears aplenty on a pirate ship, and any man might have wanted to see trouble come to him. Or maybe the governments had simply studied the remains, known of his work, and figured it out on their own.
“Administrations change,” Goroth said softly, “and memories fade. Delivering Zirkander would go a long way toward softening their attitudes toward you. And if, before killing him, we could extract information on the energy supplies, that would be an even greater gift that might be offered up. Your lieutenant might not know anything about where they come from, but I can’t believe the same would be true for Iskandia’s great pilot hero.” His lips twisted as he said this last. One man’s hero was another’s mortal enemy.
“And what will you seek should we successfully kill Zirkander? Your old job back at the proving grounds?”
Goroth released his arm and chuckled. “No, this life suits me. There’s nothing left for me back there. This is home—” he extended a hand toward the deck of the ship, now wreathed by the thick fog. “For me… it’s just personal. You know that.”
Tolemek nodded and repeated, “I’ll work on her tonight.” Maybe he could extract some information about Zirkander from her, enough to satisfy Goroth, without resorting to potions or anything that would lessen her opinion of him.
He sighed, wondering when that had started to matter. He hadn’t ev
en known the girl a full day yet.
“Outpost, ho,” the watchman called from the crow’s nest near the base of the balloon.
After a few more seconds, Tolemek could see it for himself, the long flying airbase, with six massive envelopes keeping it aloft, five thousand feet over the ocean, along with massive steam-powered propellers that buzzed beneath each corner. Nearby, chimneys wafted smoke into the sky, smoke that blended with the fog, disappearing in the miasma. More propellers lay dormant at the back and the sides of the long platform, those needed only for repositioning.
As the airship glided toward a docking station, Tolemek spotted something unusual among the warehouses, shops, taverns, and hostels: a bronze aircraft with wings. It was sitting on a landing pad near the front of the outpost. At his side, Goroth sucked in a breath.
“Who caught a dragon flier?”
“And does it have a power source intact?” Tolemek mused. He had heard of the Cofah salvaging a few and secreting them away for study, but he would love to have one of his own to examine, or at least access to one.
“We’ll have to find out. Looks like an older model.” Goroth lifted the collapsible spyglass he always wore around his neck and extended it. “Yes, there’s rust on those bolts, and seaweed dangling from the wings. Wonder where they found her?”
“How old of a model? I wonder if it might be Lieutenant Ahn’s flier? It sounded like she was a prisoner on a Cofah ship for a couple of weeks before being brought to Dragon Spit. Must have gone down over the sea.”
Goroth was already shaking his head. “Haven’t seen one that old in the sky for twenty years. That’s one of their earlier models. Ah, but is that…?” He took a few steps, leaning to see around some post in his way. “Yes, it is. There’s an energy source glowing in the back. There are a couple of hulks guarding the craft, but I’m surprised someone hasn’t plucked that out yet to study.” He turned a speculative look on Tolemek. “I wonder what you could do with one of those.”
Tolemek smiled. “So do I.”
Goroth collapsed his spyglass. “Let’s go see who found it and if it’s available for trade.”
A soft jolt ran through the ship. Two men lowered a gangplank. The docking slips were level with the rest of the outpost, so nobody had to climb a rope to get in and out of the craft this time.
A young pirate called out, “We’re all secured, Cap’n.”
“You calling shore leave, Cap’n?” the helmsman asked.
“We’ll see. I—”
“Captain?” a cabin boy called from the gangplank. “Messenger here to see you. Captain Rolostrek sent him.”
“Word of our arrival got out fast,” Goroth mused. “Or maybe someone’s calling a captains’ meeting and inviting everyone.” He nodded toward the other slips, where six other airships were already docked. The Roaming Curse was one of the biggest outfits in the Targenian Sea, maybe in the world, and Tolemek was reminded of that whenever they returned to the outpost. “Must be some big news.”
“Will you share our own news?” Tolemek asked carefully. He didn’t want to threaten Goroth on this, but he didn’t want hundreds of pirates knowing they had a member of Wolf Squadron on board, either. Not everyone would be swayed the way Goroth had been, to keep her alive in hopes of catching bigger prey. There were other ships in the outfit that had tangled with those dragon fliers, and any crewman would be happy to see an Iskandian pilot dead.
“No, I’m not sharing anything with any of them.” Goroth pointed a finger at Tolemek’s chest and then at his own. “You and I will handle Zirkander together and keep all the reward that comes with taking that risk.”
Not exactly what Tolemek cared about, but he nodded. “Good.”
“Now, let’s go see what all the fuss is about, eh?”
Chapter 6
When Cas woke up, muted daylight flowed in through a porthole near the hammock. She remembered where she was immediately and opened her hand to check for the vial she had fallen asleep clutching. A chain rattled. She wasn’t surprised to see her wrist attached to that pipe again, though it did make her uncomfortable to know Tolemek had done that without waking her. She must have been sleeping hard after being up so late, and after being stuck in such unpleasant accommodations for so long. Odd, all things considered, but she had slept better here than she had in weeks.
The blanket on the floor had been picked up, and Tolemek was gone. So was the vial she had been holding. Somehow she doubted she had simply dropped it on the floor, but she peered beneath the hammock just in case. Nothing there. No, he must have found it and extracted it from her grip. That wasn’t surprising, either, though again she felt sheepish at having slept through that. Oh, well. That had been her decoy theft. She tugged up her canvas smock and dug into her underwear, hoping he hadn’t presumed to search there. Surely, she would have woken up for that.
Her fingers found the hard glass tube, and she grinned.
Now, she had to hope her guess from the night before had been correct. The lamps had been out, with Tolemek’s breathing soft and even, when she had crawled out of the hammock to poke around. Earlier in the evening, when she had “stumbled” and peeked inside the display case, she hadn’t been able to see the labels of the vials in the rack. It had only been the presence of a little canvas pouch, one identical to the one she had helped knock from the prison roof, that had made her think the brown substance in the vials might be the same brown substance he had used on the hinges and the wall. But now, with light coming in the window, she squinted to read the label’s small print. And grinned again. Brown Goo Number Three.
Cas sat up in the hammock, swaying softly and carefully removed the glass cap. She didn’t know if the stuff would burn skin, but she didn’t want to chance it. Remembering how little it had taken to blow out that wall, she tipped the vial ever so slightly, touching the mouth to the chain securing her to the wall. Unfortunately, the goo was dense enough that gravity didn’t do anything to it. She tipped the vial farther. Nothing happened. Tolemek had used a brush, hadn’t he? She hadn’t thought to pat around for one of those during her nocturnal pillaging.
She eyed the woven strands of the hammock. He had used a special brush, probably something designed to withstand the goo. Well, she could only use what was close to her, which wasn’t much. She capped the vial long enough to pick apart a piece of the hammock, a task that involved liberal use of her teeth. She wondered what her father would think of his sniper-trained daughter, chewing apart hammocks to win her freedom. Enh, what did it matter? He hadn’t talked to her in years.
Leaning back, Cas plucked a piece of twine from her teeth and dipped it into the goo. It started smoking immediately.
“Uh oh.”
She dabbed it against the chain, smearing it all around near the point where it met with her shackle. The rope didn’t burst into flame, but it did disintegrate even as she used it as a brush. She let go before the goo, or anything the goo had touched, could reach her fingers. She hoped it wouldn’t burn a hole through the floor—now wouldn’t that be interesting to explain to the downstairs neighbor? Fortunately, the chain was smoking now too. She held her breath, watching smoke rise and crinkling her nose at the burning hair smell that came with it. Or maybe that was burning hammock.
Cas only managed about twenty seconds of patience before tugging at the chain. It snapped as if it were made of the weakest thread instead of solid iron.
“Nice,” she purred, climbing out of the hammock.
The rope she had dropped had disintegrated, but the goo seemed to have used itself up in the effort, for the floor itself wasn’t smoking. Good. She had much to do before anyone noticed she had freed herself.
Curious about the diffused light coming through the porthole, Cas padded over to look outside. A dense fog hugged the sky. She pressed her cheek to the hull, peering in both directions. To the right, there was nothing except the bulbous outline of the envelope high overhead, but to the left… she sucked in a breath.
&nbs
p; “What is that?”
Nothing less than a small city stretched away beneath the fog. A floating city, she realized, seeing the way the end dropped away, like the runway atop the butte back home.
“The Roaming Curse’s headquarters.” It had to be. She had heard rumors of a floating station out here above the ocean, but as far as she knew, nobody had ever found it, at least nobody who wasn’t supposed to find it. “Fascinating.” She would have to find a logbook to get the coordinates to take back home. As soon as she figured out how to get back home.
She walked around Tolemek’s cabin, doing a lot of looking but not much touching. He hadn’t warned her about anything, but he had been assuming she would spend the day chained to the pipe. Last night, when she had felt her way into that case in the dark, she had been worried about booby traps, and that fear hadn’t disappeared entirely. She would prefer a nice pistol, bow, or even a blowgun to his strange concoctions. But she did have a use in mind for the brown goo. She had already stuck the cap on the vial and slipped it back into her underwear. Not the ideal place to store something so caustic, but her prison garb lacked pockets. A Cofah oversight, no doubt.
“Ah ha,” she murmured after lifting the lid to the clothing trunk. In addition to more of those black trousers and muscle-displaying vests of his, he had a pistol belt at the bottom, complete with pistols and ammunition. “Tolemek, dear, did you want me to escape?”
Telling herself it was a little early to get cocky—even if she got off the ship, she was still on a pirate stronghold—she fastened the belt to her waist, bolstered by the weight of the pistols hanging from either hip. She headed for the door and pressed an ear to the wood, wondering if Tolemek had left a guard. She didn’t hear anything, but that didn’t mean much.
Cas drummed her fingers on the ivory hilt of one of the six-shooters. She trusted she could open the door and take down a guard before he could get a weapon out to attack her, but a gunshot would be heard all over the ship. Some of the men might have disembarked to visit the outpost, but there was no way the place would be entirely empty.
Deathmaker (Dragon Blood) Page 8
