Sky Pirates

by Liesel Schwarz

  “You said you would!”

  “I never said any such a thing,” Dashwood said.

  “That is a very foolish decision, Captain. I know you will regret it,” she said, desperately trying to bring him round.

  Dashwood shook his head. “No, mark my words: If you want this, then it can only be bad for me. This is probably the first sensible decision I have made since I became captain of this vessel. I have a hold full of Egyptian artifacts which need a buyer, as well as the mess in San Francisco to sort out. That’s more than enough trouble for the moment.”

  “Ah yes, I believe you are somewhat out of pocket after that last little incident,” she said. “Tell me, when was the last time you paid the crew?”

  Dashwood turned red. “I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t in need of some cash. I might consider going after treasure, maybe in a month or perhaps three, once I’m ready, but I am not turning this ship around to blunder across a jungle at the mere say-so of a known troublemaker. I have learned my lessons when it comes to you, Mrs. Marsh. My decision is final.”

  “I think you will find, Captain, that I am a very determined woman once my mind is made up. I must find the city and I will not rest until it is done.”

  This is what she had resolved in the silent hours of her shift. She needed to find Marsh and confront him. She needed to know where she stood.

  “Not on my ship you don’t.” Dashwood rubbed his temples “Now if you’ll kindly excuse me, I have work to do and you’ve given my an almighty headache.” He shooed her away. “For the second time, you are dismissed.”

  Elle turned back from the door to say something, but met with Dashwood’s most forbidding and captain-like stare.

  “Or would you like to spend a few more nights in the brig for disobeying an order?” he said.

  She did not reply. He was still her captain and orders were orders. And she really did not want to spend another night in the freezing cold brig. She was too tired for that.

  “As you say, Captain,” she said, relenting.

  The captain’s sudden about-face was very frustrating. But there had to be a way, she thought, as she made her way to the mess. She would get some sleep and try again later. Perhaps she would find a way to send word to her father or the solicitors that managed the Greychester estate. Once they knew she was safe, and on an expedition, she might be able to convince them to put up the money to hire Dashwood and the Inanna.

  Although she seriously doubted Dashwood would agree to such an arrangement, no matter how much money she offered. Plus, she was almost entirely sure that neither her father nor the partners of Messrs. Jinx, Hubble and Trust would consider such funding a wise investment. She groaned inwardly. Why was life always so complicated? No, there had to be a way to do this without incurring the wrath of probate lawyers—all she needed to do was find it.

  CHAPTER 15

  LONDON

  Patrice stared across the snow-covered lawns that spread out before the house on his estate. Winter had been harsh this year and the snow lay thick on the ground. But even in the freezing cold, Mr. Capability Brown’s gardens looked breathtaking.

  He turned from the window and stretched his hands out in front of the huge fire blazing in the fireplace. His days of being cold and hungry were definitely over, but somehow, no matter how much money he had, he was still unhappy. And the missing Oracle formed the center of this discontent.

  It had been a full three weeks since his trip to Paris, but there had been no further word about the Lady Greychester.

  Patrice rang the bell and Mr. Chunk appeared. “You rang, sir?”

  “Ah yes, Mr. Chunk. Please fetch the Summoner from downstairs. I would like a word with him.”

  Mr. Chunk inclined his head and retreated. A few minutes later, there was a shuffling, scraping sound outside the door before the Summoner was deposited on the rug before Patrice.

  The man trembled and blinked at the bright light of the room. He had been held in the dark cellar ever since Patrice had grabbed him off the street and dragged him back to England with him.

  “Monsieur. I see you are still alive,” Patrice said.

  The man fell to the floor and started sobbing. “Please. Please allow me to go home. I have done nothing to deserve this,” he begged.

  “Now, now. That’s quite enough of that,” Patrice said. “You know my terms, sir. You may go as soon as that creature you summoned brings me the girl. Now tell me quickly how things fare with your pet. You are filthy and it’s leaving a mark on my rug.”

  “Please, the hound has no news. He caught her scent a couple of days ago … f—followed her into the Shadow realm, but she escaped. D—Disappeared through a rent in the barrier. He has been hunting and hunting for her, but there is no sign,” the Summoner whimpered through cracked and broken lips.

  Patrice reached back and slapped the Summoner in the face. “Good grief, man. You are supposed to be a powerful occultist with the command of beasts from the darkest parts of the Shadow realm. Stop sniveling and get a hold of yourself.”

  The Summoner just wheezed in distress in the place he had fallen.

  Patrice slapped him again. “How can she vanish with no trace? I thought your hound is supposed to be unstoppable. Is he or is he not the pup of Cerberus himself?

  “He is, he is,” the Summoner said. “But it’s as if she has simply vanished into thin air. He will find her. She cannot hide forever. We just h—have to be patient.”

  Patrice balled his fist in frustration and slammed it down on his desk. “In the name of all that is Dark! I am sick of waiting and of hearing empty promises!”

  The Summoner flinched and started keening softly. “Please let me go home. I have a wife and a child. I am an insurance clerk, for goodness’ sake!” he whined.

  “Mr. Chunk!” Patrice bellowed. “Take him back to the cellar. And send to the village for a bricklayer.”

  “Right away, sir,” Mr. Chunk said.

  “Monsieur, you had better hope that your hound starts sniffing properly. You have one day, and if I do not have a clear idea as to where the girl is by then, I shall instruct the bricklayer to close off the small cellar. You will rot there until the place becomes your tomb.”

  “No! Please. I will do better … Please!” the Summoner started babbling hysterically as Mr. Chunk dragged him off.

  Patrice sat staring at the sifting snow for a long time as he thought things over. Thin air, he mused. It was just like Eleanor to confound everyone with the simplest of tricks. Patrice smiled suddenly as the realization hit him. Of course! How could he have been so stupid?

  He stood and walked over to his drinks cabinet where he poured himself a glass of the finest cognac. He smiled slowly as he took a deep drink from his snifter. He knew where to find Eleanor Chance. It was time to take matters in hand.

  Finishing his drink, he set the glass down and headed upstairs to select the clothes he wished to pack. He needed to go to London without delay.

  The Dirty Mermaid was not an easy pub to find. Hidden along the dank alleyways of the Isle of Dogs, far out on the other side of London, the only sign that it was, in fact, a tavern was a crude image of a mermaid in a rather lewd pose carved into a plank above the door. This was the place where pirates, bounty hunters and other men of general ill repute drank. Patrice loved it immediately.

  “I’d like to say a few words,” Patrice said to the landlord as he stepped into the center of the tavern.

  “We don’t talk to strangers round these parts, sir. ’Specially not ones in fancy coats. Best be on your way before there’s trouble,” the landlord grunted and turned his back on Patrice.

  Patrice held his temper in check. It would be so easy to transform the greasy man into wallpaper paste but, tempting as it was, it would not serve his purpose right now. A little restraint was needed sometimes.

  Instead, he lifted a purse from his coat pocket and dropped it on to the table with a soft, expensive-sounding clunk. The noise drew a f
ew stares.

  Patrice picked up the purse and tipped its contents out on the table. The coins tinkled and clattered onto the wood where they lay shining in the candlelight. Everyone inside the Mermaid stopped what they were doing and stared at the gold.

  “I am looking for a woman. Her name is Eleanor Chance. She also goes by the name Marsh or Greychester. She has red hair, and if you stare at her closely enough, you will see that she casts no shadow,” Patrice said in a loud voice.

  Silence descended upon the tavern. He had their attention now. Patrice gestured at the little heap of gold coins on the table. “This here, is but a small sample of the riches I have set aside for the man who brings her to me. If you make a few enquiries, you will find that I am Lord Abercrombie. I am a man of considerable means and this girl is very important to me.” He paused for a few moments in order to create the right effect. Then he gestured with a sweep of his arm. “I hereby pledge to pay one hundred thousand pounds sterling to whomever brings me the girl. Delivered to my door, alive and kicking, right here in London.”

  Everyone stared at Patrice and, somewhere in the background, he could have sworn he heard a pin drop.

  Patrice pulled a card out of his breast pocket and held it aloft. “Here is the address. I will entrust its safekeeping to this fine fellow,” he said as he held the card out to the somewhat nonplussed landlord.

  “And now, ladies and gentlemen, I bid you a good evening.” He spread his cape and vanished in a puff of smoke. It was a simple, if not garish, trick that was usually within the repertoire of cheap illusionists. He would not normally stoop to such frippery, but it was a rather unwashed audience and it definitely had the desired effect. There was a moment’s pause before pandemonium broke out as everyone rushed to grab up the coins.

  Patrice chuckled to himself as he watched the chaos from the shadows across the alleyway.

  That should do it, he thought to himself as he turned and strolled down the alley to where Mr. Chunk was waiting with the motor. If anyone could ferret out Eleanor Chance, it would be this riffraff.

  As always, it was the sound of money that spoke the loudest.

  CHAPTER 16

  “Evening, Chancey,” Heller said as Elle sat down next to him in the mess. Dinner for him and breakfast for her, this evening was sausages and beans served with hunks of fresh bread. On the two shifts one would be either waking up or going to bed, so Fat Paul tried to make dinner and breakfast as similar as possible.

  “Hello, Heller,” Elle mumbled. She had not slept well. Her sleep had been filled with dark dreams of being chased by awful baying creatures.

  Dashwood had put Finn on the day shift and he had ordered her to split her night shift between the bridge and the engine room. It was, she believed, a fitting punishment for her insolence the last time they had met in his quarters a few days ago. He had also given orders that some of Finn’s duties be transferred to her, so she found herself clambering inside mucky engine parts and scrubbing out spark conduits. Adjusting to hard physical labor was proving to be a bit of a challenge. She ached all over and her body did not want to be awake when it was so dark outside.

  They were somewhere across the south Atlantic Ocean. The captain had directed them to head south after San Francisco and across Panama into the Atlantic. She had been navigating east across night ocean for days now, which was extremely dull work at the best of times.

  “Caught some right rough turbulence this afternoon.” Heller chuckled. He bit into a large chunk of bread and chewed with gusto.

  “It was a bit bumpy, wasn’t it?” Elle stared at her beans.

  “Oh nah. It’s about what’s to be expected in these air currents this time of year. Have you sailed the straights before?”

  “I haven’t,” Elle admitted. “Most trade routes tend to avoid the area.” And for obvious reasons. Treacherous air currents and sudden storms plagued this part of the world and played havoc on navigational instruments. Pirate ships prowled the cloudbanks, waiting for easy quarry. Much like the Inanna was doing at this very moment.

  She looked up at Heller, who was busy spearing his sausages with his fork. Funny how he had frightened her when they first met, she thought. Now he was almost a friend. But then again, she was a pirate now, in every sense of the word. She dug her fork into her beans and took a bite. Yes, she was a pirate trapped on a ship where the captain’s word was law. And in this case it was a captain who hated the sight of her.

  “Why the long face, little one?” Heller said. “It won’t do to see a pretty face like that so sad.” Heller stared at her with concern.

  She sighed. “Oh, Heller, I feel so alone here. I feel like I have no one to talk to.”

  Heller wiped his black beard with the back of his hand. “I suppose it must be hard for you, being the only woman and all. I know it’s not the same, but you can talk to me. I like listening to others. It’s what makes me a good first mate.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she said.

  “Go on, try me.” Heller sat forward with concern.

  “Can I trust you?”

  He frowned. “Of course.”

  “Well, you know Dr. Bell left me all her notebooks?”

  Heller nodded. “Me and the captain have been through ’em. The captain was mighty upset when they turned out to be a load of old cobblers with no maps or treasure in them.”

  “That’s just the thing, Heller. The captain missed one of the notebooks. One I held back.”

  “You didn’t!” His expression grew alive with interest.

  “I did too. I held back the one journal with a map in it until I could be sure that the captain could be trusted.” Elle pulled the journal out of the leg pocket of her overalls. She opened it and smoothed out the page. “See this here?” She pointed at the pictogram. “This is a map to the Khmer city of Angkor. The greatest temple city that has ever been built.”

  Heller’s eyes grew wide. “And temples have gold …” he murmured.

  “Well, I can’t promise that, but I can say that this will lead us to the greatest temple ever built. Built by one of the richest people who have ever lived. The map speaks of the fact that the temples were lined with gold, but it is all for nothing.” Elle rubbed her eyes. They felt scratchy and tired.

  “Why so?” Heller said.

  “Well, when I showed the maps to the captain, with a plan to find the place, he said no.”

  “He did?” Heller frowned. “That doesn’t sound like our captain. He’s normally first in line for treasure. Unless there’s a good reason …”

  “There’s no reason other than the fact that he doesn’t trust me,” Elle said quickly.

  “That seems mighty foolish,” Heller said.

  “I know.” Elle skewered a bit of sausage and bit into it. “So here I am, on a ship that’s ready and able to go, but I can’t because my captain doesn’t like or trust me enough to give it a go.” She put down her fork. “I wish you hadn’t destroyed my Water Lily. I would have been off this tub and in search of the city by now.”

  Heller stared at the map with such concentration that Elle could almost hear the cogs and gears moving inside his head.

  “Tell you what,” he said after a good few minutes. “Let me talk to the captain. He’ll listen to me.”

  Elle eyed Heller. “Would he? Or would he be angry and accuse me of talking to the crew behind his back?”

  Heller thought for a moment. “Hmm, that’s a good point. But I tell you what, let me have a word with some of the lads and then we’ll see what we can do about changing his mind,” he said.

  “Thank you, Heller.” Elle laid her hand on his arm.

  Heller grinned. “See, I told you I was good.”

  Elle pushed aside her breakfast, which had started to congeal on her plate. “Well, I had better head up to the bridge. This old bird is not going to navigate herself.”

  “You do that,” Heller said with a far-off look in his eyes.

  Elle’s shift dragged by without e
vent as the Inanna plowed on through the clouds. No one said a word, or gave even the slightest indication that Heller had spoken to them, and she went about the business of scrubbing out vents and conduits. Just before dawn, dog-tired and covered in grime, Elle stumbled to her bunk where she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  The next evening, however, when she came down for breakfast, it was a whole different story.

  Elle felt all eyes on her when she entered the mess hall. Fat Paul gave her an extra chop on her plate. The boys from engineering even made a space at the table for her to sit. Heller was nowhere to be seen. Every so often one of her crewmates would nudge the other and nod.

  Elle picked up her fork and contemplated the lamb chops and mashed potatoes on her plate. Good, solid stodge to keep everyone going. The one thing Captain Dashwood did not appear to scrimp on was catering, but then again, a fed crew was a happy crew, so it made sense.

  A kerfuffle at the entrance of the mess broke her reverie and she looked up to see that Dashwood had stormed in. The captain didn’t usually enter the mess, and there was a great deal of shuffling and the rumble of chairs scraping as crewmen rose to acknowledge him.

  Dashwood ignored them as he strode into the mess. “Eleanor Chance!” he roared. He was quite red in the face actually.

  Elle stayed where she was. This was going to be trouble and she would do well to show no fear. “Here, Captain,” she said in a voice as steady as she could muster.

  “Who in the seven hells do you think you are, lady?” he bellowed.

  She set her fork down. “Captain?”

  “I said, exactly what do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m sorry but I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “I am talking about this!” He threw the journal onto the table before her.

  “The city of Angkor Wat. What of it?”

  A hush fell across the mess. Everyone was staring at them.