“Lovely work as usual, Sophie,” Umber said. He pointed to the drawing as he spoke. “Though I believe the body was a little fatter than you’ve shown here. And here, the claws had a joint near the bottom so it could raise them up and walk quietly on the pads of its feet. Take another crack at those and I think you can go to ink, dear. Thank you, excellent, excellent.”
Sophie had kept her gaze cast down, but she nodded, and a smile teased the corner of her mouth. Without a word she pulled the drawing in front of her again and went on with her work, holding the parchment with her metal hook and sketching with her good hand.
“Sophie is a fine artist with an astounding memory for what she’s witnessed,” Umber whispered as they stepped away from her workplace. “You didn’t think I brought her along just to shoot arrows, did you? And now,” he said, raising his voice and rubbing his hands together, “let’s see what we might whip up for dinner! I’m the best chef on board, Hap, I’ll have you know. Isn’t that true, Oates?”
“No,” Oates said, without taking his arm off his eyes.
“Never mind him, Hap. Just because he believes it doesn’t make it so. While I go to the galley, why don’t you—”
A wooden door beyond the long table swung open. A small man of considerable age peeked out. He was bent at the shoulders, and moved as if all his joints ached at once. The old man squinted into the room, and then announced, “Ah. You’re all here. And one more, I see. Well, supper will be ready in a bit.”
“Balfour!” cried Umber happily. “Come out and meet the newcomer!”
Balfour had attempted a hasty retreat into the galley. But when Umber called, he sighed heavily and forced a smile. “My apologies, Umber, but I am busy with—”
“Yes, Balfour, and don’t you worry, I’ll be in to help in just a moment. You know how I love to assist in the galley!”
Balfour’s posture deflated a bit, and he winced around the eyes, but still managed to hang on to the smile. “Yes, Umber. I know.”
“Hap,” said Umber, “this is Balfour, my trusted servant and friend, and while he’s aboard this craft, also its cook. Balfour, this is our newfound friend, Happenstance.”
Like everyone else, Balfour was transfixed for a moment by the sight of Hap’s eyes. Then he recovered, produced a more genuine smile, and bowed. “Very pleased to meet you, Happenstance.” His gaze wandered over Hap’s shoulder. Hap turned to see Nima descending the stairs from the upper deck.
“Lord Umber,” she said. “There’s something you should see.”
Ahead of their course, the sun sank toward the sea. Umber and Nima stared the other way, past the relentless sweep of the leviathan’s tail. Nima handed Umber a short, tapering brass tube, which he put to his eye and aimed at the distance. Hap had followed Umber onto the deck and he stepped to the back rail to see what had caught their attention.
There was a sail far beyond their wake, a triangular speck almost too distant to perceive.
“Not a large craft,” Umber said. “Do you suppose it’s following us?”
“It may be,” Nima replied. “Should we turn around and see who it is? Surely we have nothing to fear.”
Umber lowered the tube. He frowned at the distant ship, and his eye twitched at the corner. “Normally, curiosity would compel me. But not this time, Nima. I have a pressing engagement in Kurahaven and little time to spare. We’ll outrun her eventually, won’t we?”
Nima stared at the pursuer. “Most ships would have trouble staying with Boroon. Not this one, though. Even though the wind is light.”
“Is she closing on us?” Umber asked.
“No. She keeps her distance and matches our speed. As if she only wants to know where we are heading. Is there a reason anyone would follow us?” Nima asked the question of Umber, but her eyes went to Hap.
Umber didn’t answer. He clamped his bottom lip between his teeth. Strange, Hap thought. Umber seemed more nervous about the little ship than the monstrous worm that had almost killed them.
“What is that, Lord Umber?” Hap asked, pointing at the tube.
“A spyglass,” Umber replied, holding it up. “Meant for getting a better look at things that are far away.”
“May I try it?” Hap asked.
Umber wavered before offering it. “Er … of course. Take a look.”
Hap pressed the narrow end of the spyglass to his eye as Umber had done. What he saw amazed him. Somehow, within that cylinder, the ship had magically leaped a mile closer. Under a yellowed triangular sail, he saw a slender ship made of pale wood, with a curving prow that ended in the carved head of a serpent. It was a simple craft with a low deck and a boxy structure in the center. A ghostly figure stood at the prow, wearing a strange loose garment that billowed around his legs. From this distance, it was hard for Hap to tell exactly what he was seeing, but it looked as if the man had a pale, hairless face covered with dark spots.
“There’s a man dressed in gray,” Hap said. “I think he’s the only one there.”
“You can tell that from here? Your eyes are amazing, Hap.”
As Hap stared through the glass, he was sure the stranger’s neck craned forward. Hap felt a chill sweep his arms. It seemed as if the same device that gave him a closer look at the stranger also allowed the stranger a closer look at him. The man reached into a pocket at his side and took out something that looked like a sack. He pulled it over his head, covering the face with only a single eyehole on one side.
Every muscle in Hap’s body went taut as a bowstring. He tore the spyglass from his eye and thrust it into Umber’s hands.
“I think his eyes are even better than mine,” Hap said quietly.
Umber took the spyglass back. “Seen that ship before, Hap?”
“No, sir,” Hap said, folding his arms across his chest and shivering.
Umber raked his hair with one hand. “Nima, I think we ought to throw this suitor off our trail, however ardent he may be. But without making a big show of it, if possible. What would you suggest?”
Nima raised her chin while she considered the problem. “We will alter our course gradually to the north. When this moonless night falls, Boroon will make a fast turn in the dark, and we will leave that ship behind.”
Umber nodded. “Very good, my captain. Now come, Hap,” he said, shaking off his concern and returning to his native enthusiastic state. “Back to the galley!”
Umber told Hap to make himself comfortable in the central cabin and plunged into the galley. Before the door closed behind Umber, Hap saw Balfour cast a quick pleading look toward the ceiling. Soon a steady stream of clattering pans and chatter drifted out from behind the thin wooden door: “Oh, you’re a fine fish—look at the size of you, and fresh as anything! Come now, Balfour, I know perfectly well how to fillet a fish. I’m an absolute wizard with a knife, and—oh, did I nick you just then? Heavens, man, you’re bleeding. Now, is that hot enough? Ouch! It certainly is. And tell me there’s a lemon left—all is lost if there are no lemons! Ha, lemons galore!”
With Oates dozing, Sophie sketching, and Nima busy elsewhere, there was nothing left for Hap to do but find a place where he could sit and think. He took a seat at the long dining table near the galley. With his hands clasped before him, he closed his eyes, gathered his will, and took a headlong dash at the wall that blocked his memories. But his intentions shattered against it like an egg on stone. The barrier was impervious. Nothing came through, not the slightest hint of any history before he had opened his eyes in Alzumar. All Hap had to ponder was everything that had happened since that awakening. His life was still measured in hours, but it already sagged under the weight of unanswered questions.
One thing nagged at his mind, though it might have been the least of his puzzles. It was the way that, not long before, Umber had leaned close and whispered the names of those places, so careful to make sure the others didn’t hear. He repeated the strange names to himself: New York. Lon-dun. Paris. Toe-key-oh. Moss-cow. Were they villages, cities, na
tions? Why were those a secret, Hap wondered, and not the others? Why?
Before he could dwell on the question, a booming sound penetrated the cabin. At first the pitch was so deep that Hap felt it in his bones more than heard it in his ears, but then it rose and grew stronger, like a horn signaling the end of all things. Every object in the cabin rattled. Sophie steadied the jars of ink so they wouldn’t splash onto her drawings. Umber burst out of the galley, wide-eyed.
“What is that?” cried Hap.
“That is Boroon,” Umber said, before springing up the stairs onto the deck.
CHAPTER
6
Hap crept cautiously through the hatch, the last one up except for Balfour, who stayed in the galley. He looked at the ocean behind them and saw the ship, still in the distance. Everyone else was at the portside railing, staring down. When Hap joined them, he saw a thin stream of red trailing the leviathan’s enormous fin.
“Boroon says something stung him,” Nima said.
“Poor fellow,” Umber replied. “Is there anything we can do?”
“It is a small cut. Normally I would not worry. It will heal quickly. But in these waters there are many …” Nima began. Her voice trailed off as she glared at something in their wake and clenched her teeth. Hap followed her line of sight and saw a black triangle in the water behind them, not far from Boroon’s tail. The word for this thing rose into his consciousness.
Shark. Hap shivered. He knew this was a deadly, voracious creature. Worse still, a second fin appeared, farther off, and then a third.
“They smell the blood,” Nima said.
“They’re not very big,” said Umber. “Can Boroon outswim them?”
“Perhaps. But more will come.”
As if prompted by Nima’s words, a fourth shark rose from the depths, close to the wounded fin. It surged forward and snapped at the limb, and suddenly the wound that was too small to see became a hand-size crescent of raw flesh. Blood billowed into the water. Hap gasped as more fins pierced the surface, closing in on the leviathan.
Boroon knew he was being pursued. He swept his tail faster, gaining speed. There were five sharks directly behind him when he lifted his great dripping tail high over the water and slammed it down again. The slap of his fluke was like a crack of thunder, and three of the sharks bobbed senselessly in the frothing water, belly up.
“Look at the size of that one!” shouted Oates. He pointed some twenty yards away, where a new shark knifed through the water. It was a blunt-nosed brute, longer than a man was tall. The ugly predator closed in on the bloody wound, followed by what now seemed like a fleet of other sharks.
Nima dashed to a chest that was secured to the deck. She threw open a latch and swung the lid up. There was coiled rope inside, and a curved sword. She picked up both, wound one end of the rope around a cleat on the deck, and ran with the other end clenched in her fist until she’d drawn it taut, almost all the way to the prow.
“Nima, dear,” called Umber, sounding alarmed. “What are you up to?”
“Hold on to something!” Nima cried. She cupped a hand beside her mouth and sang out a high note. Boroon responded by rolling gently. Hap and the others gripped the rail to keep from sliding along the steep tilt of the deck.
Nima twisted the end of the rope around her left wrist. Hap gasped along with the others as she hopped over the railing, pulling the rope behind her.
She slid down the side of the barge and landed on Boroon’s back. With the rope in her left hand and the sword in her right, she ran across the leviathan’s side and leaped outward, swinging in a wide arc that carried her directly over the largest shark just as it prepared to sink its jaws into Boroon’s fin. Nima howled with rage as she slashed the sword across the back of the shark.
“Fancy that,” Umber said, clutching the rail.
For a moment, Hap thought the stroke had done nothing. And then a gush of red flowed out of the cut on the shark’s back. It thrashed in the water, lifting its head and snapping at the air with a frightening array of jagged teeth. The smaller sharks broke off the pursuit of Boroon and turned on their wounded brother. In moments, the sea exploded into a foaming pink mess, churned by gnashing jaws and thrashing tails.
Nima’s momentum was slowed when she slashed at the shark. She continued to swing, but dropped until her feet dangled in the water. She tucked the sword into the belt at her waist and climbed the rope with two hands until she was close to the deck. Oates reached down, put two hands under her arms, and plucked her over the railing.
“Crazy woman,” Oates said. “I could have speared that shark from here.”
“Boroon is mine to defend,” Nima said sharply. She stared at the wounded flipper and pinched her bottom lip between her teeth. Boroon seemed aware of what had happened; he rolled back to the horizontal and continued to swim.
“May I suggest?” said Umber. “You have needle and thread to repair the jolly boat’s sails, and the hammocks, I presume. We could use them to close the wound. That is, if Boroon doesn’t mind being stitched up like a pair of trousers.”
Nima looked at Umber with her head inclined, and then nodded. “I will try. And Boroon will not mind, so long as I am the tailor.”
Nima plunged into the water, bringing with her a long needle made of bone, and yards of heavy thread. She swam effortlessly down to the fin, where the shark’s bite had left a dangling flap of skin. She stitched the flesh back in place while Boroon rested. Hap and the others kept an eye out for sharks, and Oates stood with a spear, ready to heave it.
Something strange was happening, Hap realized. Nima had gone underwater to sew the wound. But she had yet to come up for air, though minutes had already passed.
“How long can she hold her breath?” Hap asked.
“What? Oh, she’s not holding her breath at all, Hap,” Umber said. “And do you know what else is interesting? Even though we haven’t moved, I don’t believe our friend has gotten any closer.”
Hap looked behind them. It was true: The pursuing craft was just as far, and just as close, as it had always been.
There was a splash below, and Nima surfaced. She gripped the dangling rope and held on while Oates hoisted her to the deck. “It worked well enough,” she said, opening her mouth to breathe deep. “Only the tiniest bleeding remains, but not enough to cause trouble, I believe.”
* * *
The light of day melted to red as Boroon continued to edge northward. The mysterious craft traced the same course. There was something maddening about this chase, where the distance between them never changed. Hap thumped the railing with his fist.
Umber’s head popped out of the open hatch. “Dinner, Hap!”
“Are you coming, Captain?” Hap called to Nima, who sat on the leviathan’s broad back, staring at the horizon with her chin propped on her fingers.
Nima shook her head. “I will dine later, Happenstance.”
Hap went into the hatch, and his stomach reared like a horse when he saw the feast sprawled on the table. Balfour peeled silvery skin from an enormous, sizzling fish. There were platters with boiled crabs, clams, and oysters, loaves of hot bread that unleashed plumes of steam when the crust was broken, bowls of fruit, and pitchers of wine and cider.
“Let’s not forget to thank Nima for the bounty of the sea,” Umber said. “She caught all this herself, Hap. While we ran like ninnies through the streets of Alzumar, she secured dinner on our behalf. Oates, you cretin, you might have waited until everyone was seated.”
“I was hungry,” Oates muttered through the quarter-loaf of bread he’d stuffed into his mouth.
Balfour’s mood brightened once he’d gotten Umber out of his galley, and Umber was thrilled to have a willing, curious audience for the recounting of the day’s events in Alzumar. Umber spun the tale while Oates bluntly corrected the slightest exaggeration. Sophie didn’t speak at all, though she smiled at every joke. Hap said little; he was still trying to understand the world and the company he’d been thrust
into. As he listened to the others, he realized that there was something different about the way Umber talked, an accent that the others did not share.
Round, thick-glassed windows lined the wall of the central cabin. Through them, Hap saw the sky turn from red to deep blue to pure black.
Umber finally inverted his goblet over his mouth, let the last drop of wine fall, and leaned back from the table and rubbed his belly. “Glorious!” he said, followed by a sigh. “All I need now is some fresh salty air. Come, Hap, let’s see what’s become of our pursuer.”
Hap followed Umber out of the hatch. It was a warm evening, and a stronger headwind had sprung up. Now that he wasn’t looking through the gauzy glass of portholes, he could see the numberless stars that bobbed in the black firmament. Nima was at the back rail with her long hair streaming toward the wake like a pennant.
“Have we made our turn yet?” Umber asked.
Nima nodded. “It’s been dark for a while. She should be well off our trail by now.”
“She isn’t,” said Hap. Nima and Umber turned toward him. Hap shrugged. “The ship is there. Just like before.” He looked again, to be certain. By starlight, he couldn’t see it as clearly as before, but the ship was still in pursuit. No closer, no farther.
Umber answered the question that was likely on Nima’s mind. “Hap can see in the dark. If he says it’s there, you can believe him.” He looked at Hap and smiled. Hap felt a small rush of pride to have this strange but significant man, who seemed to have a world of resources at his disposal, speak for him that way.
Nima frowned into the dark. “She follows us across a pitch-black sea. And into a headwind, no less, when any other craft would fall away. There is only one way to lose her now. Lord Umber, have Balfour put out the galley fires.”
Umber bounced on his heels and nodded. “Of course, Captain! Come, Hap—it won’t do to be standing on deck soon.”
Happenstance Found (Books of Umber #1) Page 4
