by Rob May
By five in the morning, the Croc was almost deserted, but still the big game went on. There were now only four players left, Darklaw having cleaned out one more player, and Kal having won such a large pot off another that he had picked up what remaining chips he had left and fled the table.
Darklaw now had around four-thousand-crowns-worth of chips piled in front of him. Kal wasn’t far behind, but Rafe and Lula’s best efforts had left them with slightly less chips than they had started out with. Vanrar had gone broke hours ago, but still hung around to watch the game. He had taken the job of dealing for them, as a way of still being part of the action.
Kal was drinking water; Darklaw was still supping from his goblet of wine that he must have had refilled tens of times throughout the night. Yet he was still the same immobile looming presence, and hardly any more communicative. His bets became larger and more frequent, and although he was losing as many hands as he was winning, he was still stacking up the chips through sheer aggression.
He made another strong bet: four hundred crowns—an amount that would feed a local fisherman and his family for a year. The cards on the table showed two kings and a three. Kal had nothing in her own hand—just two random high cards—but she had to pick a spot to make a stand, and this could be it. She pushed forward a stack of twenty high denomination chips. ‘Two thousand,’ she announced, then sat back and fixed Darklaw with an inscrutable gaze.
He stared back at her for a good minute, a pained expression on his face. His long fingernails clacked a rhythm on the edge of the table, until finally he scowled and threw his cards forward, relinquishing the pot to Kal. The hand had tipped the balance, and Kal now had the most chips on the table. Darklaw was finally pushed to make a stab at conversation.
‘Where did you learn to play cards, Moonheart?’
Kal avoided his eyes. ‘My mother used to play a great deal when she was pregnant,’ she replied without further explanation.
Rafe laughed. Vanrar dealt everyone new cards and the game went on. Kal made an opening bet, Lula and Rafe folded—they had been playing it very safe for the past hour or two—but Darklaw made his usual big raise.
‘I have been playing for most of my life,’ Darklaw told Kal, ‘but only recently for such high stakes. It is my desire to prove myself at every aspect of life in this town, now that I have made my home here. I have built my own sailboat too, with my own hands.’
Kal smiled to herself. Was he trying to impress her now? She called his raise, and Vanrar dealt out three cards on the table: the Four of Wands, the Six of Swords, and finally the Dragon of Cups. The picture showed a green beast curled around a golden goblet amid a pile of coins and treasure.
‘You’ll be running this town next,’ Kal joked as Darklaw counted out a new bet. Could she push him into opening up any more?
‘Where I come from,’ he said, ‘—far from here—I did indeed hold a position of authority: over fighting men, and also over the economy, such as it was, of my village. It would indeed be an interesting challenge to rule over a town such as this one. The soldiers and the fishermen here have for too long had an easy life in this peaceful place. Perhaps I will put myself forward as the new governor.’ Darklaw made his bet: two hundred crowns.
Kal thought for a bit, then called the bet. Vanrar dealt out the next card: the King of Wands. ‘Where is your village?’ Kal asked Darklaw. ‘Would I know it?’
Darklaw treated her to a slow smile. ‘No,’ he said simply, and pushed out a bet of six hundred crowns. Rafe and Lula were watching with interest. The pot was over a thousand crowns by now; larger than the amount of money that they had each started out playing with.
‘If I call, will you tell me?’ Kal teased. Darklaw remained impassive. Kal called anyway, and Vanrar dealt the final card: the Eight of Pentacles.
Darklaw barely glanced at the card. He wasted no time in making another punishing bet: a thousand crowns. Kal sat deep in thought, weighing up Darklaw for a long time. ‘What have you got?’ she asked him. ‘Three dragons this time? Two in your hand to match the one on the table?’
Darklaw sat as still as a statue, his dark eyes staring back at Kal threateningly. Did he want her to call or fold? Kal couldn’t tell, but it really didn’t matter: she knew what cards she had, and Darklaw had come too far now to back down. Kal pushed her entire stack of chips forward—a wall of coloured clay worth more than three thousand crowns.
‘I bet the lot,’ she said. ‘You don’t have the dragons.’
But Darklaw also shoved all of his chips forward with one massive forearm, and with his other hand slapped his cards down face-up: the Dragon of Swords and the Dragon of Wands. Then he drained his goblet of wine in triumph.
Kal sat still for a second. ‘Oh, you do have them,’ she said calmly. She turned over her own cards: the Five and Seven of Swords. ‘Well I have a chain.’
Darklaw’s eyes widened in shock. His fist clenched around his goblet as if he would crush it. Rafe laughed in relief and Lula stood up and clapped. Vanrar confirmed the win: ‘Four, five, six, seven and eight: Kal wins … a pot of over eight thousand crowns!’
The fat merchant gave Darklaw a mocking grin. ‘Dragon Killer strikes again!’ he said.
III.vi
Hot Water
Kal woke up with her mouth tasting like a troll’s toilet. Where the hell was she? The bed she was lying in was large, soft and luxurious, and a warm orange glow filled the room. She was still dressed, though. Kal turned her neck stiffly and found herself looking at the slim, brown bare back of the girl lying next to her. Lula? She groaned. Turning the other way, she could see Rafe sprawled out on the sheepskin rug at the side of the bed. The Captain of the Senate Guard was clad only in his smallclothes, with a garland of flowers around his neck.
The orange glow was the twilight filtering through the mottled glass windows of the Discovery Inn; they had slept all day. Memories of the night before started to return: after Kal’s big win they had stayed at the Croc downing glasses of rum mixed with coconut milk and pineapple juice. At dawn, the owner had kicked them out and so Kal, Rafe, Lula and the merchant Vanrar had taken their party to the streets. They had banged on the doors of several dockside bars and taverns demanding more rum. Then there had been the street dancing …
Lula was getting dressed, pulling on her pantaloons and boots. She tied her long black hair back in a ponytail and hitched her cutlass to her belt. Kal rose too and padded over to the door to show her friend out. ‘See you at the docks after dark then,’ the pirate girl said. ‘And make sure you get a good breakfast; you’ve got a twenty mile row ahead of you!’
Kal made a face, and shut the door of the suite as Lula bounded off downstairs. Kal turned and started picking up Rafe’s clothes off the floor, kicking him in the ribs as she did so. ‘Hey, sleepyhead. Time to get up!’
* * *
Kal stuffed her mouth with a forkful of bacon and eggs. ‘Darklaw pays for everything in lumps of gold,’ she mumbled as she ate. ‘If there’s a mine on that island, and he’s got access to it, then that means he has an almost unlimited flow of money. That has to be why all last night he was talking up the dangers of disturbing the terrible dragon that’s supposedly nesting there. Rumours like that keep curious people away. I’ll bet that it was him who got those hobgoblin freaks to burn down the governor’s mansion.’ She paused to take another mouthful. ‘I wonder if paying or bribing his way into a position of power here in Balibu is his ultimate goal, or just the first part of some deranged plan?’
Rafe was slowly nibbling on a mango. His appetite was not the equal of Kal’s. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ he said. ‘I’m just a soldier, not a detective. But Kal—you don’t have to deal with this anymore; that’s my job. Why don’t you go home? You’re rich now! You could buy a small house on Arcus Hill with what you won last night!’
Kal shook her head. ‘I’m not rich,’ she said. ‘Only a fraction of that money is mine to keep. I have backers who each take a percentage of my wi
nnings. But they cover my losses too, so it’s their risk, not mine. Not that I often lose, of course …’
Rafe was intrigued. ‘Oh? So who are these mystery backers then?’
‘Well, you might know one of them. Benedict Godsword.’
Rafe frowned. ‘Benedict … Senator Godsword? Is that why you’re here, Kal? Did he send you too?’
‘Yes. That’s how I know there’s a gold mine out there somewhere. It’s Benedict’s. Well, it was.’
She watched Rafe try to process this information. ‘The senator has a gold mine? I didn’t know about this! But there’s no record of … if he’s hiding it from the Senate, then that’s illegal …’
‘Rafe,’ Kal said. ‘It doesn’t matter right now if that mine belongs to the Senate or to Benedict or anyone. If Gron Darklaw’s controlling it and killing people to hide it, then we have to stop him, right?’
Rafe nodded slowly. ‘You’d risk your life for Benedict Godsword?’
‘Yes,’ Kal said simply. ‘I owe him my life.’
She drained the last of her giant mug of black coffee. ‘But that’s a story for another time. Come on, let’s get going.’
* * *
They stood side by side admiring the sloop. The headsail was grey, the mainsail deep red, the cedarwood boards were stained a deep black. It was thirty feet long and expensively detailed: the wheel and rails were padded with leather, and the cleats, lanterns and other fittings were a polished silvery metal.
‘That’s a man’s boat, alright,’ Rafe commented. ‘Why is the bottom made of metal?’
‘The hull,’ Kal corrected him. ‘I don’t know.’ She peered into the clear water that was lit by the harbour lights. ‘It looks like it’s made of platinum. Who would build a boat with a platinum hull?’
‘Someone who was very rich and wanted everyone to know it,’ Rafe said.
They left Darklaw’s boat and continued along the wharf. In the distance, smoke could be seen drifting in front of the stars. Kal saw Lula hurrying towards them through the crowds. She looked serious.
‘Vanrar’s warehouses have burned down,’ Lula said when she reached them.
Kal swore. ‘Where’s Vanrar? Is he safe?’
‘It’s too late, Kal,’ Lula said. ‘He was in the warehouse when it burned. He’s dead!’
Kal swore again. Darklaw! It had to be. The big man hadn’t been impressed with the merchant’s lack of respect for his dragon stories. Darklaw was a bully alright, and of the worst kind: one who would not only indirectly threaten people, but also act to keep them in line.
‘Let me guess,’ Kal said, ‘people are saying a dragon did it?’
‘That’s the word on the street,’ Lula confirmed. ‘There was a flying shadow …’
Kal shook her head. Smoke and mirrors! What was actually real in this town?
‘We need to get to that island and sort this out once and for all,’ Rafe said. ‘Lula, take us to your boat.’
Lula pulled herself together visibly. ‘Yes, Sir!’ she snapped.
* * *
Lula’s boat was a small two-seater canoe. Kal made Rafe sit in the aft, and she sat opposite him in the bow.
‘Thanks, Lula,’ Kal said, as they pushed off from the jetty. ‘Remember, if anyone asks about us, we’ve gone back to Amaranthium!’
‘Take care, Kal!’ Lula said. ‘Look after her, Rafe. I need to know there’s going to be more nights like last night to come. But without these sort of mornings after, of course!’
Rafe grunted in reply as he pulled on the oars. With a flash of her gold hooped earrings, Lula vanished from sight. Rafe rowed in silence as they slid through the water, under the watchtower and out through the seagate. The night was moonless and the water was calm. With luck, they would make it to the island in around six hours.
Kal doubled-checked her equipment. She was wearing a rough grey linen dress, open-sleeved and cut to the knees. She also wore her steel vambraces, and her leather boots and cuchuck-stitched gloves; she might need the grip if they went rock-climbing. Her knife was at her belt and her shortsword strapped across her back. What else did she need? Nothing: all she had to do was make sure she had a blade for Darklaw’s neck.
After a time, Kal took over the oars, and when they were far enough from the town, they put up the small sail. There was a warm westerly breeze that would help them on their way. Kal made sure that Rafe was happy keeping the canoe on port tack with the sail held on a diagonal, then she tried to find a comfortable position in the cramped hull to lie down. ‘Wake me in an hour,’ she instructed, and laid her head on a coil of rope.
It only seemed like a moment later when Rafe tapped her on the leg. ‘An hour, I said,’ Kal complained.
‘That was an hour,’ Rafe grinned. ‘I would have given you a few more minutes, but your snoring was frightening the fish. Come on, change over!’
Kal took up the oars and resumed the slow, heavy rhythm. Under both oar and sail they were cutting briskly through the water. The night was pitch black, and the lights of Balibu had faded behind them. The God Star burned brightly in the northern sky, though, so Kal fixed their course by that. Rafe watched her row. He was also dressed in loose, light clothes: a vest and breeches torn off mid-thigh. He had insisted on wearing his blue silk surcoat over it all, though: the spiral of stars that decorated it would mark him out as an official representative of the Senate should they need to talk their way out of trouble. In case talks broke down he had also brought a bag of various weapons, as well as his lance.
‘You’re quite strong for a girl,’ he said as he watched Kal.
‘Shut up and get some rest,’ she rebuked him. ‘You’re on again in an hour.’
Rafe lay back and draped his hand over the side of the canoe, letting his fingers trail through the dark water. ‘It’s warm,’ he noted. ‘The water is really warm.’
‘The sea holds the day’s warmth,’ Kal explained, but she took a moment to test the water. Rafe was right—the water was unusually hot.
‘Can dragons breathe fire underwater?’ he asked her seriously.
Kal laughed. ‘Have you ever seen a dragon breathe fire?’ she asked him.
‘Not yet!’
‘Well, I would worry more about working out how they manage to do that at all, rather than sweating the details.’
Rafe fell silent. Kal continued to row. Maybe she had offended him, but she couldn’t think of anything to say. Conversation Killer, they should call her. She concentrated on pulling and lifting the oars. The physical exertion was making her hungry—not just for food, but for action. The nervous thrill she felt on the eve of an assignment was like the excitement of sitting down at a card table, but magnified many times over. Rafe must have noticed Kal grinning to herself; his own smile had returned.
A school of large fish had started to follow the canoe. Rafe let them nudge at his fingertips. ‘I could just reach down and grab one,’ he said. ‘We could cook it when we get to the island.’
‘They’re sharpfins,’ Kal said. ‘They could reduce your arm to bone in less than a minute.’
Rafe jerked his hand out of the water.
‘But it’s okay!’ she said brightly. ‘They only go after blood and shiny things!’
* * *
Three hours later, Rafe woke Kal for the last time. ‘I'm done!’ he said. He had already taken down the sail. ‘You can take us in.’
She looked out to sea. Ahead of them, looming out of the darkness was the island. It was about five miles across, and at its centre a triangular mountain rose out of a surrounding girdle of trees. Kal could see the starlight glittering on the surf that was breaking on the beaches.
Dragon or Darklaw, she thought, Whatever you are, I’m coming for you!
III.vii
Black Sand
Kal seemed to a have drawn the short straw when it came to the final stretch of rowing. The ebb and flow of the tide meant that for every ten yards she pulled them closer to the beach, they were dragged back out
five. Coral scraped the bottom of the small canoe, and twice they got stuck. Rafe used his lance to free them from the reef, but Kal could tell that he wasn’t happy using his weapon as a punt. Eventually, though, they made it, speeding towards the shore in the wake of one of the gentle rollers. Rafe leaped out as the canoe hit the sand, and dragged them clear of the water.
Kal disembarked and Rafe easily pulled the empty canoe up the beach towards the shelter of the mangrove trees. Kal followed after him, kicking sand over their tracks to hide any trace of their passage. They had seen no other vessels or lights on the island on the voyage over, so with luck nobody knew of their arrival. At the edge of the trees she crouched and scooped up a handful of sand. She let it sift through her fingers: it was fine, black and sensuously soft. She frowned; warm water and black sand … what did that signify?
She turned and followed Rafe into the gloomy darkness of the mangroves. The low trees grew close together, their roots twisting around each other in the swampy ground. Rafe had found an elevated spot of dry mud and had already covered the canoe in leaves and driftwood to hide it. Beneath the shelter of a large flat-leaved saltwine bush he had laid out a blanket and was unpacking their food.
‘Dried beef—come and get it!’ he said. ‘Or there’s fresh crab if you think we could risk some cooking.’ He pulled a large red crustacean from under the blanket and held its wriggling legs out to Kal.
‘He looks delicious,’ she said. ‘We should be alright if we dig a hole to hide the fire.’
They sat together on the blanket and ate the soft white meat on toasted bread. Through a gap in the trees they could see the mountain, a looming black void against the star-strewn night sky. Their plan was to get a few hours’ rest and then explore the island at dawn, starting by following the coastline and looking for signs of other ships coming and going. Somewhere there was a natural harbour near the mine entrance, and Kal was convinced that they would find evidence of Darklaw visiting the island.
