by Vance Moore
"Most of the parts are already crated for shipment to Keld with us," Latulla called after him. "Hurry packing, and you can catch a meal before we have to pull out." Haddad turned and stared. Surely someone else was speaking. Latulla was almost smiling as she directed slaves doing the packing. Consideration was something he never expected from the artificer, and it left a strange taste in his mouth. He started packing a crate and writing an inventory of the tools and books he sealed away.
It took hours to finish loading. Haddad barely managed to get food and his personal kit before reporting outside. Latulla ordered him into the wagon for the ride down to the dock. Walking would have been quicker and more comfortable, but he was tasked with preventing theft. The material was all to go to Keld. Though warriors had picked over the booty when first captured, many wanted a last chance to snatch a piece before it headed north. Haddad bore Latulla's emblem, and her sigil on the wagons kept the warriors away. Except for Haddad, it seemed no other member of the household would be traveling north with Latulla. Haddad prayed that he would not have to serve as her personal slave. Haddad would miss Briach's unseemly passion for slavery if he had to constantly attend to Latulla's needs in the steward's place. Reaching the dock, Haddad could see the frantic pace of loading the ships had slowed. Latulla's wagons were among the last to be unloaded by exhausted longshoremen.
"Hurry up you fools, we need to depart immediately." The style and dress of the Keldon speaking suggested that this was the ship's captain. If so, Haddad hoped he could read the sea better than he read Latulla's uncertain temper.
"What did you say, Captain?" Latulla called as she stalked up the gangplank, her hands grasping her metalshod staff.
"I apologize, but we must set sail immediately." The captain sounded rushed rather than apologetic as Haddad slung his personal gear and bedding onto his shoulder. "We were late getting in, and if we take too long we'll have League trouble for sure."
"I thought their ships stayed out of these waters?" Latulla leaned against the rail and watched Keldon crewmen running crates and sacks of her gear up the gangplank. The sight of the gray-skinned sailors doing slaves' work showed Haddad how short time was.
"You can't find a ship, but their cursed aerial patrols are starting to sortie from their rebuilt base out west. Someone will need to burn that out or shipping is going to cease." The captain gestured to the men forward to prepare to cast off.
"Still, why the rush?" Latulla eyed the final stragglers coming aboard and some of the longshoremen held each other up as they almost fell down the gangplank. A crude temporary crane dropped a wagonload into the hull with a crash.
"Haddad," Latulla called. He stepped closer and wondered if he would be preparing her cabin. "As soon as the last crane load is in the hold, go down and see to the storage of the cargo. I want a check of the inventory and description of any broken containers. Draft sailors to aid you as necessary." The captain finished signaling his orders to the crew, and she turned back to him with an expectant air.
"There are supposed to be long-shore raids today through the dawn in the far west," continued the captain. "It should drag their air patrols away and mask our departure. But until we rendezvous with the war ships in a week, we have no protection against attack. We need to get away from this port. All ships are to sail alone in case some are discovered, and I want to be ahead of the rest. Now I suggest that you make sure you have your gear onboard because I want to make way the second we can." Haddad saw that there were only a few loads left to go and went to start his task.
His first discovery in the hold was a pleasant one. Fumash, the small customs inspector, was looking over the cargo, checking its condition and security in case of storm. A broad black smile showed as Haddad hurried forward to talk to the little man.
"What luck!" exclaimed Fumash. "I was just wondering who might help me in the difficult execution of my duties. Who should appear but my good friend Haddad?" He turned to a crewman assigned to help him. "Go back to your regular duties, please. Your aid is appreciated, but your own tasks must surely call to you."
The crewman looked exhausted from working all night and most of the day preparing for departure. He only shook his head and stumbled deeper into the hold, looking for an out-of-the-way spot to catch a nap.
"Shout when you are through," the crewman called back.
"Trusting soul," Haddad said, thinking on the probable punishment for napping on duty.
"The tired do not think clearly. Besides, the rest of the crew is working farther forward, securing gear in the second hold." Sunlight shadowed the pair as they crouched, checking cargo ties among the crates.
"So Druik is onboard and bound for home," Haddad inferred. "I was surprised not to see him on deck." The cargo they were now processing bore Latulla's mark, and Haddad began to write on the slate he had grabbed from his gear. The words were almost illegible in the poor light. "Still interested in the birds of the outer islands?"
"Master Druik is in the cabin he and I share. I am checking his personal baggage." Fumash began chalking on a slate that squealed piercingly as he wrote. "And I am always interested in birds, though I doubt this is the time to discuss any expeditions."
"When would be a better time?" Haddad looked around and motioned Fumash to crouch behind the crate so they might talk freely. "The crew is completely exhausted, and we are unobserved for the moment," he whispered. "The captain said the ship sails alone for the next week. The farther we sail the more difficult it will be to find our way to the League. Do you want to wait until we reach Keld to escape?"
"Sea air has made you far too trusting," Fumash whispered back. He rose, and Haddad followed though Fumash only went a few steps before crouching out of sight again. "We are inspecting the cargo, remember?" Once again Fumash began scraping on his slate, though only random lines.
"Perhaps the sea air has affected me as well," Fumash continued. "I have long since had my fill of Keldon hospitality. We will go three nights from now."
"Why so long?" questioned Haddad. "The crew is tired now and will be busy getting the ship ready for the voyage." Haddad swore loudly then, as if discovering some problem. Fumash glanced up to check the hold for anyone else.
"Because no matter how tired the crew is, the captain will maintain a careful watch as long as we are in coastal waters-both to prevent escape and spot League air patrols. In three days we will be far enough from land that he will relax his watch. We'll grab a boat and sail for the eastern islands. We'll hide there for a few days and gather as much food and water as we can. If the Keldons are practicing raids, we'll wait a few days and then run west. In the deeps maybe we will miss some of the monsters that exist inshore. If we are lucky, we'll be spotted by our air patrols." Fumash signaled that their conference was at an end. "Don't stock up any supplies. It's too likely to be spotted and warn the guards. Besides, we'll grab food just before we leave." Fumash began to walk away, and Haddad could still barely hear his last whispered comment.
"If we are really lucky, the League won't sink us when we are spotted."
*****
The dawn of the second day found Haddad slowly going mad with impatience. He spent hours slowly reviewing what he knew of the Keldon plans. While he knew the physical layout of the military colony quite well, he was unfamiliar with the Keldon tactics. Just how useful he would be as a source of military intelligence was open to question. Still, any idea of what lay at the heart of the Keldon incursion would have to be useful.
Haddad walked by a ship's boat one more time. He was unable to stop himself from inspecting the boat, so he rationed his glances. For cover, he toured the entire ship. He even got down to the power source for the ship's propulsion. He expected to see a shaft or moving machinery, but even with his background in large machinery, he was mystified at how the engine worked. It appeared that there were no working parts, no hydraulic transfer of power, and no powerstones. The engine just sat in the middle of several tanks like a pile of scrap. There was no
sound of load or power. Something in that assemblage of parts was slowly and steadily assisting the sails in pushing the ship north, but he still wondered if it wasn't a trick played on him.
The crew, both human and Keldon, seemed merrier than the people he knew on shore. Perhaps it was because the line between the races blurred under the demands of shipboard life. The equality that Haddad saw working subtly in land barges was much stronger at sea. Part of it was the elevation of knowledge or skill that allowed slaves a new level of freedom in working the sails and managing the deck gang. Haddad thought it might also be because this was a transport vessel, and the Keldon identity as warriors just wasn't as valuable when the primary responsibility was transporting cargo. When he heard women usually oversaw such supply responsibility, he was surprised. The only Keldon women he had seen were midwives or artificers. Some of the slaves educated him when he eavesdropped on a conversation.
"Of course it's better to serve on a male-commanded vessel," one crewman commented to another as they checked coils of rope and prepared to wash down the decks. "You there, Haddad." He was waved over and wondered if he had revealed his interest in the conversation.
"What do you want, crewman?" he asked, already thinking of the lies he would use.
"We want you to settle an argument. I say it's better to serve under a male, even if he is more brutal, than under a female, because they strive to show authority at all times." Haddad took several moments because none of his ready answers addressed this unlikely question from a slave.
"I believe that Latulla is a special case, and it would be unfair to consider her as representative of her gender." Haddad tried to sound respectful of his mistress, but his eyes watched the unfortunate steward that the captain had appointed to wait on Latulla. Bruises and a general furtive-ness gave the man a hunted look as he waited on deck to put off talking to Latulla as long as possible. He had tried to switch positions with the other sailors, but so far he had no takers.
"You're right. It wouldn't be fair to use her as an example. She has special demands upon her as part of her position." Each excuse was more forced than the last; each trying to overlook the fact that Latulla was unusually cruel even in a race that rewarded such cruelty.
"Usually women give lots of verbal abuse and scut work. When clear of military duty, a woman may have warriors underneath her, but very few males are capable of much outside of military action." The sailor spoke with the knowledge of experience evident in his voice, and Haddad took a chance to learn more before he left the Keldon world.
"Why don't we see more women then? Almost all of the bosses are male, regardless of the activity they oversee." Haddad had not considered it unusual, but he did not see the Keldons as anything but monsters most of the time. Trying to see them as a race or people was painful and jarring. "Where are all the women if they are so skilled?"
"Haddad, the town you left is a military base. Military action is the provenance of males. Our captain and officers are male because this is a combat area." The sailor smiled smugly as he revealed his superior knowledge. "Furthermore, this incursion is not totally supported by the Keldon nation. Most of the warriors are of inferior status and from secondary clans. The males you see commanding work details are from clans too poor to maintain a proper distribution of work between males and females. But if the loads we bring in are as rich as the one we're hauling now, there will be serious interest in colonizing."
Every time Haddad ran into slaves who supported or approved of the Keldon cause, he wondered what flaw warped their minds. Ignorant as he was of Keldon culture, he was sure that human males sat at the bottom, and that made him even more determined to escape and fight for the League.
It was late afternoon before Haddad found free time. Latulla ordered him to repack several crates they had hurriedly loaded to make the sailing date. The inventory was blatantly incorrect, and Haddad considered the man who packed it lucky indeed to avoid Latulla's grasp by staying on land. Of course, any mistake that Latulla could not instantly address tended to fester. Only a shipwreck would stop a sure reckoning upon her return. The artificer even designed a new loading scheme, so Haddad had to draft several crewmen throughout the day to dig crates out of tight quarters.
Haddad was taking a break on deck. Not a large risk because a meal would be served soon, and Latulla preferred to be in her quarters when the deck was crowded with men.
The helmsman and officers were in the raised stern, and Haddad wondered how much longer he could escape notice. The crew was taking a break, and each man had his cup ready as the galley workers brought up buckets of beer. Fumash was near the rail and looking over the sea. As Haddad approached, several sailors started a round of singing as their ration of spirits was distributed. Haddad had lived on coffee and weak beer for most of his life, but the strength of the spirits the crewmen routinely consumed was a source of amazement.
Fumash threw a bucket on a line into the water and drew it back up. He carefully poured a little from the bucket into his fresh water ration.
"I thought drinking seawater would kill you," Haddad said.
"You can add seawater to fresh water to stretch out your supplies as long as you dilute enough. Besides, it's a convenient source of salt." Fumash added to the concoction a small portion of spirits and then drank the mixture down. "Tastes as bad as always," he said with a smile.
Haddad could see hints of white teeth and wondered if the drinking was scouring away the deposits left by Fumash's nut habit. It would certainly be more difficult to procure a supply of them if they arrived at Keld.
"The captain doesn't look too concerned about League airships," ventured Haddad.
The ship commander was talking to Druik. The huge Keldon was on deck without the customary armor of a war leader, though the spike and long blades on his artificial limbs certainly gave him a martial air.
"He has to look brave under a war leader's eyes," Fumash replied. "We are heading northeast and should be outside the regular patrol areas. By tomorrow it will be just navigation watches, and we'll turn to the northwest the day after. It should still be calm if we are lucky." There was no wind, and the sails hung slackly. Those crewmen with needle skills worked their way through the ship's sails and signal flags. Maintenance had lagged, and Haddad wondered why. The ship glided forward slowly and without sound over the still sea.
"So we change course tomorrow," Haddad said, nodding slightly at the boat only a few feet away.
"As long as we are not spotted we should make a clean break." Fumash was growing nervous and stood with the bucket in hand. "How about a little sea water to cut your liquor ration?" He threw the bucket over, and it hit with a splat rather than a splash.
"What the hell is that?" The customs man was leaning over the side and sounded so puzzled that Haddad and another sailor looked over the side as well.
The water shimmered with faint glints of color, as if a sheen of oil lay on the water. It was a thick patch that the ship had hit in only the last few minutes. It was a large slick, and Haddad thought it strange that none of the lookouts spotted it. Perhaps it was common enough that only a landlubber or coastal sailor would be surprised by its appearance. The sailor's reaction put that theory to rest.
"Captain!" he yelled in a near falsetto, "we're on a gastro-jelly!" His cry sparked a round of confirmations as the various lookouts turned their eyes from the sky to the water about the ship.
The captain took only seconds to look over the side and then started shouting orders. "Change course hard to port! All hands fetch boarding pikes and prepare for jelly drill! Cook!" he shouted as the first serving of hot food was brought on deck, "start boiling soap! We've jelly to deal with!"
The cook dumped the rations on the deck and hurried into the galley, screaming orders to his assistant as he went. Haddad turned to the sailor who was sweating and holding a boarding pike.
"What is going on?" He looked at the water. The colors were now rushing toward the hull, and deeper, more-vibrant c
olors were starting to well up from the depths. The sailor seemed calm but expectant.
"It's a gastro-jelly, a type of jellyfish larger than the ship." He shook his pike at the disturbance under the water. "Right now it's turning over so it can use its tentacles. If the course change doesn't break us free, we'll be scraping it off the sides in a few moments." Haddad had seen monster attacks, but this one was so leisurely that he had a hard time feeling any fear. Fumash was confused as well, and Haddad was pleased not to be alone in his ignorance.
"Why haven't I heard of it if it is so dangerous?" Haddad asked as he took a pike.
Lord Druik was shouting and making the rounds of the railings as well. The words were forceful exhalations and grunts that Haddad couldn't make out, but the exhortations served to energize the Keldon crew. Each touch of Druik's hand as he walked left a more confident warrior behind.
Even Haddad could feel something, a call to battle, a shout of defiance against an enemy.
"A gastro-jelly usually isn't dangerous, but this hulk is too bloody slow, and we've caught the central mass. If those blind morons on watch had spotted it, we wouldn't be in any danger at all," the sailor said.
Latulla was now on deck and talking to the Keldon mate, trying to find out what she could do.
"Fire is not something we use next to the hull, Doyenne." The officer fidgeted as he talked to Latulla instead of rushing to his duty station.
"Well, it's almost impossible to target the jelly. There's nothing solid to hit," Latulla said, looking over the side.
"It's turned," went the call, and thin tentacles began to rise up out of the water. They were small and fragile looking, and Haddad wanted to laugh at the excitement they inspired. Then they began growing, and Haddad joined the rest of the crew in fear.
The tentacles grew in different ways. Some swelled until they were as thick as anchor cables. Others flattened into a rough sheet that coated the hull as if mechanical grease. And still others extended in sudden spurts of a few feet. Each sailor along the side broke off tentacles into the sea, some shaking and tugging their pikes as they became entangled like a bough attacked by a climbing vine.
