Raggins headed toward the stern. Lick was somewhere overhead in the rigging, he thought, watching over everything. He’d seen him go up but it had been quiet since. Nothing to report, apparently. He reached the bow. He frowned. He’d assigned someone here, hadn’t he? Irwin, maybe? Or had he sent Irwin to starboard? He didn’t see Irwin at starboard. Nor did he see Jells, the man he thought he had assigned to starboard.
Come to think of it, he’d completed his full circuit of the deck and not seen any of his six companions.
He turned around slowly. There was a dwarf standing there, wearing a top hat and a grin.
Raggins held his hands up and backed away slowly until he felt the deckrail against his back. He turned and jumped over the side, splashing back to the surface a moment later, spitting saltwater. He started swimming for the Black Knife. He was going to have a lot of demerits to work off and he wanted to get a good start.
They found Quartermaster Skulk unconscious in a heap behind the wheel pedestal.
“No blood,” Grott said. “Guessing they clubbed him.”
Keezix found Ween a minute after. The cabin-boy was conscious but locked in a broom closet. Thud set him to waking Skulk up. The two were the entirety of the Squiffy’s current crew. Samona was gone. The woman with the stringy hair was nowhere to be seen. Taken? Accomplice? Irrelevant? Thud didn’t know. He watched silently as the Black Knife raised its gangplank. Ropes were thrown and sails unfurled. The ship began slowly moving out of its dock. Oars lowered, a drumbeat began and the Black Knife was soon nothing more than bobbing golden lights, receding in the darkness.
“What’s their interest in this?”
“Sorry?” Keezix asked.
“The pirates. Samona said it was a pirate ship that chased the Katie’s Jigger to the island. Then we get attacked by pirates after we talk to Samona. Now the pirates have kidnapped Samona and made off with him. Yet I don’t recall hearin' at any point why the pirates have such an interest in this.”
“Artifact might be worth a lot,” Keezix said.
“Enough to lose a ship over then send another after it? What are they going to do with an artifact? Fence it for a tenth the value? Just don’t seem to fit.”
“Maybe it’s the weather wizard?” A warbly voice, shifting octaves dramatically mid-word. Thud turned to see Ween. He’d been rescued from the closet and was standing nearby, holding a mop in readiness, knuckles white against it.
“Samona mentioned a weather wizard but I thought they were on the pirate ship that got lost.”
Ween nodded. “It were, but we rescued her.”
“The weather wizard survived?” Thud asked “Samona didn’t see fit to mentionin' that.”
“Well, that’s who we thought she was,” Ween said. “We found her floating in the water the next morning, tied on to a barrel. She was dressed in a fancy black robe and her face was inked up like a festival skull.”
“Aye, that don’t sound like a reg'lar sorta crew member. What happened to her?”
“She was unconscious most of the way back. Once she did wake up she didn’t say anything, just stared with her spooky skeleton eyes. Soon as we made port she left the ship.”
“Samona didn’t stop her?”
“She didn’t look the sort of lady you’d want to try that with,” Ween said. “Plus, we rescued her from a pirate ship and were docking in a pirate port. Keeping her in the brig might have caused some problems.”
“If there’s a wizard behind this it starts makin' more sense,” Thud said. “They can be a might desirous when it comes to artifacts.”
“So now what?” Keezix asked. “We seem to have lost our employer.”
“Well,” Thud said. “We’d best go after him.”
Chapter Five
“He’s goin' ter be laid up a while,” Doc said.
He stood next to Gong’s bed, looking cross, eyes large behind his round glasses. It was Doc’s default expression. Gong was propped up on pillows, an extensive amount of white bandaging wrapped around a portion of his circumference. He didn’t look to be in much better of a mood than Doc was. They were in one of the ground floor rooms of the inn. The other members of the vanguard had bolted the shutters closed and taken shifts watching the room in case anyone had the idea to make a second attempt. Thud wasn’t so sure it was necessary but he let them do it, figuring it was good for morale. The attack the night before had been meant to kill, yes, but he didn’t think that killing was necessarily the actual goal. The goal, he felt, was simply to stop them from making the attempt, by death or treachery. Their guard was up against attacks, now, with every dwarf sporting their maces and crossbows, but Thud wasn’t sure that there would be any other attacks. The Black Knife had sailed, presumably with Samona on-board. The Cackle Squiffy still remained a large, stationary target and every hour it was in port was a risk. Destroying it would end any prospect of the expedition ever getting out of port. Ships were notoriously flammable. They also had a feature where if you punched a hole in one they tended to bubble their way right down under the water. It was daylight, there were plenty of guards now and the ship was so obvious that Thud suspected any attack would be somewhere else. Somewhere they weren’t expecting. He’d gone around all morning trying to think of things he didn’t expect but by definition this was a difficult line of thought.
Dadger Ben had arranged for stable space and warehouse space somewhere on the ridge above Stilton, the only location he’d been able to find that he trusted wasn’t run by part of Laughing Larry’s network. Most of the dwarves were out helping Ping navigate the wagons through Stilton’s streets and up the hillside to get to it. Fortunately, Stilton was tailor-made for moving cargo around. Thud had tried making a mental list of all of the gear they had that was semi-attached to the wagons. Gear that they wouldn’t have on the ship unless they went out of their way to replace it. He assumed that the ship had a means of preparing food though he hadn’t seen the galley on the brief tour he’d gotten. Did the ship have a smithy aboard? Would Mungo survive without his workshop? He felt a second, self-guided tour was in order with more of a mind for prep. The ship was going to have to serve as their base of operations and the island was an unknown quantity as far as what they’d be facing. Would they need the trap barrels? The chickens? They’d certainly traveled into wilderness before where no resupply was possible. He assumed that fish would be an option, as far as replenishing food stores went. Skulk was making the tavern rounds to gather up a crew and Thud hoped that they were all going to know more about how to do things than he did. He just needed to coordinate them with his own team and make sure everyone was working together rather than having pissing contests over authority and how best to do things.
And his tactics-dwarf was laid up in a bed for the foreseeable future.
“Got a tough security situation here, Gong,” he said. Gong nodded silently. It was apparent that he’d been having similar thoughts. It was his job to have those thoughts.
“Keezix will keep things nailed down here,” Gong rumbled. “Send Rasp to the ship. He’s more personable, might manage to not piss off the ship’s crew too badly. Clink with Rasp so he can take a look at what the ship has got as far as heavy hitting goes.”
Thud tried to remember if he’d seen any sort of ballista or catapults on the ship. He was pretty sure he’d remember if he had, which wasn’t a good sign.
“Have Max check the warehouse over,” Gong went on. “Probably the least of our worries but we should at least know that they have something in place there. If something ain’t getting done I can still yell at folks. They just have to come by here for me to do it.”
Thud clasped Gong’s hand. “Ye’ll be back up in no time, lad.”
“Aye, Teddy, I just gotta be insufferable enough that Doc kicks my ass out the door.”
Doc snorted. “You have a hole in you. You’re gonna be taking it easy far longer than you want to.”
Thud left them to it and stepped back out into the common room.
Ginny and Ruby were there, Ginny having a breakfast ale, Ruby writing in a journal. He sat down across from Ruby.
“Tell me about The Singers,” he said.
She kept writing another second or two, finishing her sentence, then closed the journal. She sat for a moment, sucking on her quill, thinking.
“All was darkness and silence,” she recited. “Then within the darkness a Voice, with none to hear. The Voice cried out and the Darkness stirred. The Voice began the Song, and within the darkness things existed in order to hear. The Singer sang, and the World listened. As long as the Song continues, the World will listen. But the Silence waits. The end of the Song will come, and with it the World will listen no more.”
“Pantholic creation story,” Thud said. “Picked up a bit o' that here and there.”
Ruby nodded. “The Song is what I’ve heard referred to as a ‘proto-god’. No mind or body, just a voice in the darkness that causes the world to be. Its counterpart is The Silence. They’re more primordial forces than gods. The other gods have their religions, their spheres of influence, monasteries and temples. The Song and The Silence are apart from that, neither above or below, the deity equivalent of the land and the sky within which all else is contained. There are cults associated with each of them. They’re regarded as cults because they have no strictures, no focus other than what they mandate upon themselves. The cult of silence aims to bring an end to all things. Not too many members, as you might imagine. I’m not sure there are any at all actually. Just stories as far as I know. The Singers are a different matter. They seized on the concept of there being a Singer that the Song originates from, imbued it with personality. Their claimed goal is to keep the Song from ending, to maintain the entirety of existence. They view The Singer as being above all of the other gods, as it sang them all into being.”
“Don’t seem too bad,” Ginny said. She’d moved on from her ale to a plate of toast with some sort of vile smelling brown paste spread on it.
“They had a new priestess rise to prominence a decade or so ago. Her view is that, as the Song is perfect, worship of anything else is less than perfect and a threat to the Song. Or something like that,” she waved her hand dismissively. “They view any other worship as inferior and seek to spread the true faith across the lands. By force, if necessary. They justify it with the belief that those who do not convert are elements of entropy that must be destroyed.”
“Starting to see where that might conflict with things,” Thud said.
“Add in the belief that sacrificing the entropy to the Singer makes the Song stronger.”
“By entropy, you’re still meanin' people that ain’t part o' the Singers?”
Ruby nodded. “They come with holy book in one hand and a knife in the other. Then you choose which hand to submit to.”
“And no one’s taken an army and cleared ‘em out yet?”
“The city of Song is far to the North. Most of the region is camps and lodges, nomads. No centrally organized anything, apart from Song itself. It’s having the effect, however, of growing their numbers. Eventually they’re going to come further South. There will be war before it is over. Perhaps in five years, perhaps in ten, but it is coming.”
“And they hired Samona to smuggle a cargo for them.”
“It might help to know where he picked it up and where he was supposed to take it too. It’s slim, but it may just offer a suggestion as to what the cargo was. Something that was recovered from somewhere. Something that they felt needed smuggling. Because it was illegal? Because it was powerful? It might simply have been wealth. If they’re gearing up for a war then coin is certainly going to be high on their list of things to acquire.”
“So Samona hires us to recover it, apparently out of fear of the consequences of losing it. The Singers hire the elf to make sure Samona is doing everything possible to recover it, reinforcing his fear of consequences. Now the pirates have jumped in to play. Were they just after a valuable cargo? Some sort of religious privateers? Hired by the weather wizard? Maybe someone opposed to The Singers?”
“Which could be anybody,” Ruby said. “You’re on the side of the contract that’s least likely to be looked favorably on.”
“Samona figgered out how to get to this island. Seems that would make him an asset as opposed to someone to be killed.”
“Unless the goal is to make sure that the cargo remains lost. Which would imply that it’s more significant than a chest full of coins.”
Thud was silent, drumming his fingers on the table.
“We’re doing a job for one of the Hermits,” Ginny said through a wad of toast. “What did you expect?”
Thud shrugged. “We usually work for kings and queens. The Hermits ain’t much more than that to my mind.”
“Not sure they’d agree with you,” Ruby said. “But if there’s one Hermit involved then they could be acting against another. And that could mean that Archons are involved.”
“All the Widow asked was that we go to Stilton and to take the job we was offered. She didn’t say nothing ‘bout any other Hermits or Archons.” He shrugged. “Couldn’t exactly tell her 'no’, could I, one of the Hermits? That’s a good reference, right there, that is. Still need to assign someone to keep an eye on the elf. He’s here to watch us and I need to get someone assigned to watchin' him. Mungo, maybe. He likes sneaking around when he takes a break from tinkering. Speaking of the elf, if you see him around try and make him stay put. I got no way to get hold of him other than sticking me head out the door and yellin'. Might be I underestimated him in me first impressions. He’s a dangerous sort and his loyalties ain’t to us.”
Ruby wordlessly pointed toward the door. The elf was standing there wearing scuffed brown leathers, bow and quiver hanging over his shoulders. He bowed and came up grinning.
“Fine,” Thud said, deciding to not care if the elf had overheard any of that last bit. He hadn’t been there when they were discussing the Hermits and that was what was important. “You’re coming with me,” he said. “I’m discoverin' I’m happiest when I got you in sight.”
“A sentiment I can only wish I were to hear more often,” Catchpenny said. “From honeyed lips and fairer maids…”
“Stow the elf-talk,” Thud said. “I’ve heard ye speak like a normal person. I knows ye can do it.”
Catchpenny shrugged. “Was never much good at it anyway. I’ve always wondered what exactly ‘honeyed lips’ are. A snack of some sort, maybe?”
“Lets me know if ya find out. For the time being, though, we got a ship to inspect. You can fill me in on the way regarding anything useful you’ve done since I last saw ya.”
They left Ginny and Ruby to their breakfast and stepped out into the street. Their boots thumped on the wooden planks as they moved along the pier. Thud’s did at least. The elf moved in silence. Stilton by day was a different creature than Stilton by night. The sky was brilliant blue and gulls circled overheard, their piercing cries a backdrop to the sounds of Stilton. The rumble of the wheels on the planks as wharfies wheeled carts loaded with barrels and crates. Fishmongers lined the thoroughfares, calling out to the occasional passer-by. Most of their stalls were pieced together from scrap. Difficult to get ahead, Thud supposed, when your one commodity was the same as everyone else’s commodity. Stilton’s buildings were gray and weathered, even the newer ones, having been built from miscellaneous pieces of older ones. The twin keeps watched from the cliffs to either side of the bay, high overhead, their towers crumbled and fallen.
“The town’s pretty quiet with the Black Knife at sea,” Catchpenny said. “Two of Larry’s other ships sailed out this morning. I’m guessing their intent is to catch up to the Knife and sail escort.”
“Don’t suppose the Singers gave you enough money to hire the mercenaries to attack the pirates, did they?”
“No, and I think they’d lose in any case. Lot more pirates on Larry’s ship alone than there are mercenaries. The Black Knife fully crewed carries near thre
e hundred sailors.”
“How’d an elf come to be workin' for the Singers, anyway?” Thud asked. “You don’t seem the type.”
“Well, about that…” This time it was Catchpenny who stopped walking.
“What about it?”
The elf scratched at his chin. “I don’t actually work for the Singers.”
Thud’s eyes narrowed. “Who do ye work for, then?”
“Nobody, actually.”
Thud toyed with the spikes on the head of his mace.
“Keep talkin'.”
“I overheard you and Samona in the bar. It seemed a good story at the time.”
“Is this s'posed to make me trust you more or less?”
“I just wanted to be part of the expedition.”
“Why? What’s your interest in it? The truth this time.”
“It sounded interesting.”
“Seriously?”
“That’s it,” the elf said. “More interesting than hanging around Stilton picking pockets.”
“You’re tellin' me you’re a bloody adventurer?”
“I suppose you could call me that,” Catchpenny said.
“Just did. I don’t hold much with adventurers.”
“That’s what you do, though.”
“No. It ain’t. We ain’t in this for the adventure. This is our job. We’re a public service.”
“Is that what you call what you do?”
Thud ignored the comment. “I especially ain’t fond of adventurers that con their way into me expedition.”
The Dungeoneers: Blackfog Island Page 7
