The River of Shadows cv-3

by Robert V. S. Redick

  “Glah,” said Oggosk, pointing irritably at Rose. “Give him my dose. I’ll go later, when the heat passes. Let the captain see what’s become of his ship.”

  “Are you certain, Duchess?” said Rose.

  “Was I ever otherwise, you fool? Take the offer, and leave me in peace.”

  Two minutes later the door flew open with a bang. Rose stormed out and barreled for the quarterdeck, shouting for Fiffengurt and Alyash, watch-captains, duty officers, his steward, his meal. All around him men leaped to attention. Neeps and Marila stepped out more fearfully and shut the door. They clenched each other’s hands (for who knew, who knew?), closed their eyes and inhaled.

  The drug worked. They were free, if only for an hour. Neeps opened his eyes. A mob was cheering, chasing after Rose. But three figures pushed through it in their direction. The first was running headlong: Thasha. She skidded to a halt and threw her arms around them both and laughed and shouted and kissed their cheeks. Behind her Hercol and Bolutu came striding, wide smiles on their faces.

  “Nutter girl!” Neeps laughed, hugging her until it hurt. “How’ve you and Pazel managed to stay alive so long without us?”

  “It was Hercol who got you out,” said Thasha, her own eyes bright with tears. “The council was about to explode, but he calmed everyone down and shamed Taliktrum into this furlough idea.”

  “Sometimes it takes a fighter to stop a fight,” said Bolutu. “Come, away! The hour will pass quickly. We have food-of a sort-in the stateroom, and hot water for bathing is on its way, two buckets apiece. And Felthrup is simply going mad.”

  “First things first,” said Neeps. “What in the nine stinking Pits happened to Pazel?”

  There was an awkward silence. Thasha dropped her eyes, and to Neeps’ amazement her ears began to redden. Then a voice from behind her called out: “I’m afraid I did, Undrabust.”

  Greysan Fulbreech, one eye purple and bloodshot, walked up and extended his hand. Neeps just stared at him. Then to his astonishment he saw Thasha take Fulbreech’s other hand, tenderly, like something she cherished.

  “I tried so hard, Neeps,” she said, her voice a plea. “To tell him sooner, to explain. It wasn’t anything Pazel did wrong.”

  “No one is to blame,” said Hercol.

  “Least of all Pathkendle,” said Fulbreech, his fingertips brushing Thasha’s arm. “He was in shock, you know. He really does care for her. Because of that I can’t be angry. In fact I’m hopeful that one day we’ll all be friends.”

  Neeps hit him. Savagely, in the stomach. He had Fulbreech down on the deck before they tore him away.

  “You rabid Rinforsaken slobbering dog.”

  Only Marila could deliver insults that cutting in a voice that calm. “I told you I’m sorry,” said Neeps, pressing clean gauze (provided by Fulbreech) into his nose.

  “Brilliant. Just blary brilliant,” Marila continued. “Thirty minutes left. If we’re lucky your nose will stop bleeding for the last three.”

  “Why don’t you go do something, then?”

  “I hate you. I hate you.”

  “You’re not being fair to him,” said Pazel, hands on the bars of his cell.

  “Don’t tell me about fair,” said Marila, still in that deadpan voice. “You think I feel sorry for you, locked up for three whole days?” She looked hard at Neeps. “Taliktrum will never let you out again after this.”

  “Listen, Marila,” said Neeps, his head still tilted back, “Fulbreech is a liar. A fake. He’s found a… weak spot, see? A weak spot in Thasha, and he’s exploiting it.”

  “Thasha is not a fool,” said Marila. “If she’s with him, she has to have a reason. And if you ask me it’s because she’s taken a fancy, the same way anybody else does.”

  “Then she’s a fake,” said Pazel. “She doesn’t love him. She’s pretending.”

  “Well she’s doing a blary good job.” Then, seeing Pazel cringe at her words, she added in a louder voice: “I never say things the right way. I know that. If you want somebody to lie and make you feel better, maybe I should go.” She paused, breathing deeply. “But if you ask me you’re better off without her, that mucking rich grugustagral. You weren’t the only one she fooled. I was there when she told you she was done with Fulbreech. I know what you’ve been through with her. For her.”

  Neeps whispered, “What’s a grugu-gu-”

  “Shut up,” said Marila.

  “Thasha’s a good person,” Pazel insisted miserably. “And we need her, too. We’re supposed to be a team.”

  “Exactly,” said Marila. “Those burn scars mean you’re supposed to stick together, you three and Hercol and Bolutu and even Rose, somehow-to stay and fight together to the blary end. Besides, you and Thasha-” She puffed out her round cheeks, angrily. “It’s like magic. You love her despite the invasion of Ormael, despite her father. I think you even managed to love her father. And if she wants to throw all that away just because some handsome-”

  “Handsome?” cried both boys. “He’s not! He’s a goon!”

  Marila looked from one to the other. “Hopeless,” she sighed.

  Neeps turned back to Pazel. “Hercol must be in on it,” he said. “But why are they doing it, and why won’t they tell you? That’s what you have to figure out.”

  “Right,” said Pazel. But Neeps could see that his heart had gone out of it. Marila’s argument had struck home; he was at last considering the possibility that Thasha’s change of heart was real.

  All at once he seemed to reach a decision. “Get up, you two,” he said. “You’ve wasted almost your whole hour on me. Go and eat something, walk around. And wash off that blood, mate. Go on, right now. I mean it.”

  Neeps felt like a heel, but his guilt at keeping Marila from enjoying any of her furlough was gnawing him, and Pazel was unyielding. All three got to their feet. Pazel linked hands with them through the bars.

  “Every other time, she trusted me,” he blurted. “Even when she was scared or ashamed. Why would she start hiding things now?”

  Marila looked Pazel in the eye. You had to know her well to realize how much sympathy she felt. “That’s my point, Pazel. She wouldn’t, and she’s not.”

  But as they walked away Pazel was still shaking his head.

  The ten-minute bell clanged its strident warning. In the stateroom, Neeps and Marila jumped up from the table, and the little feast their friends had assembled. Hercol and Bolutu rose as well. Neeps looked across the room and stifled a growl.

  It just kept getting worse. Thasha and Fulbreech were standing by the windows, close together. She had brought him through the invisible wall. Since its sudden appearance three months ago they had found that Thasha alone controlled access to the stateroom, merely by commanding the wall to admit chosen friends. Uskins had marked it with a red line of paint on the deck; it ran from port to starboard, straight down the middle of a cross-passage twenty feet from the stateroom door. No one but those Thasha named could cross that line. They had no idea where the wall had come from, or why it answered only to Thasha, but they were all glad of its protection. Now without consulting anyone she had added Fulbreech to their circle.

  She had tried to make peace between them. Fulbreech had been willing; but Neeps had turned his head with a bitter laugh, and Marila’s look made Jorl and Suzyt whimper deep in their throats. After a moment Fulbreech had simply withdrawn to the other end of the stateroom. Thasha had tried to talk to them-about the attack of the dlomic army, the council meeting, the fruitless search for Arunis. Hercol and Bolutu had urged them to eat. Felthrup, in nervous agony, had babbled like a soul possessed, now and then stopping to chew his stumpy tail. At last he had burst into tears and fled into Admiral Isiq’s old quarters. Hercol had followed him inside, and emerged minutes later, shaking his head.

  “Are you sure it was wise, Thasha, to indulge his request?”

  “I’m not sure of much these days,” she responded, her voice suddenly hardening as she glanced at Hercol.

/>   “What are you talking about?” said Marila. “What request?”

  Thasha sighed. “Felthrup believes that he’s accomplishing something vital-in his sleep. You know he used to have those terrible nightmares, the ones he’d wake up from squealing and shaking? Well, they’ve stopped, thank Rin. But he has an idea that they weren’t normal dreams at all. He thinks they were sent by Arunis.”

  “What?” said Fulbreech, touching her elbow. “Your rat friend thinks the sorcerer was attacking him through dreams?”

  “That’s his suspicion,” said Thasha, “although he’s never been able to remember any details. When the nightmares were happening he was so afraid that he stopped sleeping at all-for ages. I think it nearly killed him. And now he’s just obsessed. He’s been reading about sleep and dreams and trances in the Polylex-you know, my particular copy-”

  “Right,” said Marila quickly as Fulbreech raised his eyes with sudden interest.

  She’s cracked! thought Neeps. She practically just told that slimy bloke that she’s got a thirteenth edition! Why doesn’t Hercol put a stop to this?

  “He wanted a place to sleep in the daytime,” Thasha continued. “He asked for a dark nest, and I provided it-found an old hatbox, lined it with scarves, placed it with the open side facing the back of the closet. Then I hung a curtain over the closet door to keep light from leaking in. With all of Father’s uniforms and Syrarys’ dresses still hanging in there, I guess it’s about as dark and quiet as anyplace on the ship.”

  “He retreats to that nest for hours at a time,” said Bolutu, “and when he emerges, he is strange and preoccupied, but he never tells us why.”

  “I don’t like this at all,” said Neeps.

  “Nor do I,” said Hercol, “but I have come to trust that rat’s intuition almost as much as my own. He often senses far more than he understands. But we must be off, my friends. The hour is ending, and it is a long walk to the forecastle house.”

  “Thank you all,” said Neeps. “You’re first-rate, I mean it.”

  Thasha came forward, her eyes bright, and took his hand in both of hers. “We miss you,” she said.

  “Yeah,” said Neeps, glancing around, as though for someone who wasn’t there.

  “We’ll go with you, of course,” she said. Then she added awkwardly, “Greysan’s going to stay here.”

  A difficult silence. Marila turned to look at the Simjan. “Alone?” she said.

  “Yes, alone,” said Thasha, a bit sharply. “Why shouldn’t he?”

  Neeps took a deep breath, and held it. Because it’s insane, that’s why. Because you’re out of your mind if you let him poke around in the stateroom. The magical Polylex was here, and so was Mr. Fiffengurt’s secret journal, and the letters he’d written to his unborn child. There were also Bolutu’s notebooks, and Thasha’s own, and even some jottings Pazel had made in the back of an old logbook.

  “We’ll go back by ourselves,” said Marila suddenly. “You can all stay here.”

  Neeps quickly agreed: it was as if Marila had read his mind. The others protested, but he and Marila stood firm. Wishing their friends a last hasty goodbye, they bolted from the stateroom.

  What occurred next shocked them both. Just beyond the red line that traced the invisible wall they found Rose waiting, terribly tense, fingering something in his pocket. “What kept you?” he barked. “Come along, quickly!”

  “We have to get back, Captain,” said Neeps. “I can already feel the pain beginning.”

  “Save your breath,” said Rose. “Come with me, that’s an order.”

  He plunged across the upper gun deck, not looking back, confident of being obeyed. Neeps and Marila stood rooted to the spot.

  “He’s going the right direction,” said Neeps at last. “We can start off following him, and break for the topdeck if things get strange.”

  “Things already are,” said Marila.

  Nonetheless they followed the captain as he barreled past the startled carpenters and gun-repair teams, around the tonnage hatch and into the starboard lateral passage. “He’s still aiming for the forecastle house,” whispered Neeps. “In fact we’ll probably get there sooner this way. No crowds to slow us down. But would it hurt him to-”

  Rose stopped dead. Neeps and Marila skidded to a halt behind him, and both cried out in amazement. Just ahead, a passage intersected their own, and at its center was a huge red cat. It crouched for an instant, startled by their voices, and then with a twitch of serpentine tail it vanished down the right-hand passage.

  “That’s Sniraga!” said Neeps. “She survived the blary rats! How did she manage, where has she been?”

  “Nothing can kill that animal,” said Rose. “It will never leave off, never cease to plague me, until I answer for its wounds.”

  He was trembling, hoarse with fear. Then he shook himself back to life and pounded on. The Holy Stair was just ahead, and it was with immense relief that they watched Rose enter the ladderway and start to climb. He moved swiftly, raising himself by the handholds as much as the steep steps.

  But one flight below the topdeck he stopped again. “Have a look at these,” he said, bending down.

  They leaned around his elbows. Beside the wall, a brass speaking-tube cut through the ladderway, emerging from a hole in a step and vanishing through the ceiling. And on the step beside the pipe sat a small canvas bag. Rose lifted it, and Neeps heard the clink of metal.

  “What’s that, sir?” he asked warily. “Coins?”

  Rose smiled curiously. “Not coins. Payment, yes, but not coins.”

  Suddenly he grabbed Neeps by the arm. There was a flash of iron, a sharp click, and suddenly Neeps found himself handcuffed to the speaking-tube. He shouted and kicked at Rose. Marila screamed and struck at the captain’s face. Rose cursed, trying to catch her arms. Marila was quick and slippery: if she had obeyed Neeps (who begged her to Run, please, run away!) she might have escaped up the stairs. But she didn’t try, and in a moment the captain overpowered her and clipped a second cuff about her slender wrist. He dragged her to the brass pipe and snapped the other cuff in place around it.

  Then he stepped back, out of range of their blows.

  Neeps screamed at him: “You mad bastard! What in the Pits are you doing?”

  Rose leaned back against the wall. Neeps threw himself downward, wrenching his arm, but the pipe did not even shake. Marila twisted her arm in the iron cuff, but it was too tight for her hand to slip through. Overhead, the ship’s bell began to peal again, urgently.

  “You can’t kill us!” cried Neeps.

  “Can I not?”

  “You could lose the Shaggat! You will lose him! Marila’s the spell-keeper, do you hear me? If she dies-”

  “Undrabust,” said Rose, “you may be gifted at detecting lies, but in telling them you have no skill at all. Lady Oggosk determined weeks ago that no one in the forecastle house carries Ramachni’s spell. Given the tension in that chamber, and the presence of Sandor Ott, I decided to keep her discovery to myself.”

  “They’re calling for us,” said Marila.

  And indeed men were shouting overhead: Where are they? Captain Rose! Undrabust! Miss Marila! Your hour’s up! Hurry, hurry, for the love of Rin! The voices of the ixchel, furious and confused, piped above the rest.

  Neeps and Marila pulled together. Rose shook his head. “Those fittings have lasted centuries. They’ll not give way now.”

  The youths began to shout for help. Overhead, someone caught their cries and exclaimed, “The Holy Stair! The Holy Stair!” Boots pounded toward the ladderway.

  Then Rose took the strangest step of all. Wading into their blows again, he pulled a third set of handcuffs from the bag and locked himself to the pipe.

  “You’re insane!” shouted Neeps. “If you want to die, at least let us go!”

  Now they were close enough for Neeps to sense the terror in Rose’s flesh. His teeth were locked in a grimace, his fists were clenched. “Out of time, out of time,” he m
urmured.

  The boots smashed nearer, and then a crowd of sailors, led by Big Skip and the doughy-faced Mr. Teggatz, appeared and all but stumbled over them.

  “Milk of Heaven’s Blessed Tree, shipmates, our captain’s a suicide!” cried Teggatz-easily the longest utterance Neeps had ever heard from the cook.

  “He’s a murderer!” shouted Marila. “Get these cuffs off, get us away from him!”

  The sailors tried to do just that. Big Skip put his lumberjack’s arms to the task of breaking the pipe, while Swift the tarboy ran for a hacksaw. Teggatz spat on Marila’s hand and tried to ease it through the iron cuff, but only managed to bruise and bloody her. Neeps, who had felt the icy stab of the ixchel’s poison whenever the door swung open or the fire ebbed, wondered that he was still drawing breath. The hour had passed. They were living on borrowed time.

  When Swift returned with the hacksaw, Rose snatched it from his hand and broke the blade over his knee. Big Skip growled in mystified rage. He wrenched at the pipe with all his strength. Other hands shoved in close beside him, and Neeps and Marila joined too. The pipe bowed, and its housing popped loose from the timber.

  “Help us, Captain, you crazy old loon!” cried Big Skip.

  “I already am,” said Rose.

  It was a good eight minutes before the tugging, combined with the work of a second hacksaw (kept well out of the captain’s reach), at last succeeded in breaking the pipe. Instantly many hands lifted Marila and Neeps and slid them, cuffs still trailing, to freedom. But even as they made to dash up the Holy Stair, they heard Rose began to laugh.

  “It’s permanent, you witless whelps,” he said. “Haven’t you guessed yet? The crawlies blundered. They gave us the same pills they gave Haddismal and Swift. You’re cured. Go back in there and you’ll start the poison cycle all over again.”

  Teggatz, blubbering, tried to push the youths up the stairs. “He’s mad! Oh, misery! Run!”

  “Aye, run!” said Big Skip. “If he ain’t mad, he’s lying! Get to safety, you two!”

  But Neeps didn’t move. “We should have died ten minutes ago. He’s not lying. We’re free.” He looked at Rose, who was still shaking with mirth. “But you are crazy, and vicious as a snake. Why didn’t you tell us?”