by Chris Bunch
“Saving our lives,” Cosyra said. Suddenly she turned pale, said, “Oh dear,” and sat down very quickly, almost missing the chair.
Gareth was beside her.
“I … I just … realized I never stabbed anyone before,” she whispered. “It’s not at all like fencing, is it?”
Gareth had his arm around her, pulling her against him, feeling her shake. In a few moments the shaking stopped.
“I’m all right. I think,” she said. “But maybe some brandy?” She drank it down as they heard the clatter of a dozen or more horses in the courtyard.
“That’ll be the King’s Guard,” she said. “I’ll have them take you to the Steadfast, and make sure your uncle knows where to go to say good-bye.”
“I best be going too,” Labala said, upending his mug. “I don’t need none of the kingsmen, but perhaps I better have myself hid out for a couple of days, since nobility takes shit like we did seriously.”
Gareth was looking intently at Labala. “You really like what you’re doing? Being a fortune-teller and all?”
Labala shrugged uncomfortably.
“Better’n heaving big bags of stuff around, I guess.”
“I know a ship,” Gareth said, “that’s looking for crew.”
“I dreamed, off and on, of going to sea, like my family used to do, before we got stuck here in Saros,” Labala said. “But I never had anybody stand good for me.”
“I’ll do that,” Gareth said.
“Mmmph,” Labala said. “That might be all right See some of the world and all. Gareth, I’ll go with you. Maybe we’ll have a chance to do some more foolery, like we used to.”
“Maybe,” Gareth said. “When we’re ashore, but not aboard ship.”
Labala shrugged indifference.
Gareth turned to Cosyra.
“I’m sorry.”
Cosyra made a face. “There’ll be other times for oysters.”
“You promise?”
“I promise,” she whispered, lips parting as she came to him.
• • •
From the Mercantile Posting:
The carrack Steadfast, 220 tons. Captai Luynes, cargo of trading goods, from North Basin, for Nalta Mouth and beyond, under sealed orders.
Six
The Steadfast sailed east-southeast, past Adrianople, Prim, Killis, other cities Gareth had traded with, into the tropics.
Gareth found a new pleasure — seeing friends enjoy something new, things that he’d already discovered: the constant tradewind that now was cooling, instead of freezing the sailors; the blue skies and rolling oceans; the taste of unfamiliar fish netted from the stern yard and grilled on a charcoal brazier and drenched in lime juice; floating coconuts fished up, split and their milk drunk, still unspoiled by the salt water; the warmth of the sun; the soft skies that welcomed a dreamy night watch.
Tom and Knoll learned shipboard routine readily. Labala seemed to have a little trouble at first, but his constant cheerfulness and enormous strength kept him from making enemies.
Gareth watched with amusement. The thought came that he needed but one other friend here to be utterly content, and that brought his mood crashing down.
Cosyra, just a friend? Of course not. He didn’t want to sleep with his other friends. But was just basic lust all of it?
He was afraid not, but he refused to countenance love. Love was an anchor, a millstone, that held you back, and tied you to staleness and the land.
Not that he had any particular reason to think that Cosyra was in love with him, of course. He knew lust wasn’t an exclusively male emotion.
But this made him brood further, about what he wasn’t sure. He tried to pay attention to his accounts, which, considering the hidden cargoes, was a little complicated. Gareth was more than happy to be called on deck by Captain Luynes.
He realized it must be a serious matter when Luynes told the deck officer he’d take the watch and took Gareth on up to the deserted stern castle.
“This man Labala,” he said without preamble. “You wanted me to sign him aboard.”
“Yes, sir. Is there anything the matter with him?”
“Other than he’s a godsdamned magician, nothing. Did you know he’s a spellcaster?”
“Yes,” Gareth admitted. “He told me he played about with some small pieces of wizardry when he was a longshoreman.”
Luynes growled.
“I do not like magicians aboard my ship.”
“No, sir,” Gareth said. “Most seamen don’t seem to, either. But I’ve sailed with them, and had no trouble. Besides, Labala’s not much more than a witch, really. Love potions and so forth.”
“I’m not being superstitious,” Luynes said. “I’ve a particular reason to not want wizards on the Steadfast.”
Gareth waited, but Luynes didn’t seem inclined to explain.
“Look at him,” he said, pointing. “Up there in the foresheets, probably working up some casting or other. You go talk to him, Purser, since you’re his friend. Tell him I’m not pleased, for my own reasons, and he’s to refrain from any witchery while he’s aboard the Steadfast. If he’s wise, he’ll take my warning, and not need any further … attention from me.”
Gareth remembered the oath of utter obedience in the articles, said, “Aye, sir,” and went for’rd to where Labala leaned over the railing.
“And how’s the lad?” Labala asked. “All white and like from bending over the accounts, making sure none of us’ve stolen an extra herring?”
“Better than you,” Gareth said, repeating Luynes’s orders.
“Superstitious, he is.”
“He said there’s a good reason.”
“Just bein’ captain’s reason enough for him, I’d guess,” Labala said. “And just when I was starting to get some good ideas.
“You know, Gareth, last night, I came up in the dogwatches, and the mist was swirling about the deck like ghosts dancing. And a spell came, and I started saying it, and those fog-ghosts started dancing to it. I think, with a little thought, I could move a whole harbor full of mist.”
Gareth shivered. “Maybe the skipper’s got a point.”
“Aarh, you’re superstitious too. It wasn’t ghosts, just bits of water-smoke, obeying what I called it to do. Ghosts are another, entirely different thing, which I’m not proposing to fool about with.
“Not yet, anyway.”
Labala sighed. “And coming up with new words and thinking about handling things like water, and fire, and smoke, made the watches pass a lot faster, too. I just wish I could read and cipher, so I could keep track of my ideas.
“But, thinking that maybe the Captain’s got enough of the Gift — or somebody on his side does, anyhoo — I’ll cut my sails closer to the wind.”
He jabbed Gareth in the ribs with an elbow. “Catch that, matey? See how I’m gettin’ as nautical as all shit here?”
Gareth recovered his breath painfully. “Gods, Labala. Can’t you just make your point with words?”
“And words are what I’m no good at,” Labala said. “So you’ll have to live with what I am, won’t you?”
• • •
The next day, Luynes ordered all hands to learn how to fire the ship’s cannon. We are going to sail into trouble, Gareth thought.
He was grateful that he’d learned all he could on his first voyages. He, and Thom Tehidy, seemed to have a certain talent with the cannon, able to range in on the crates they threw overside for target practice within a shot or two.
Luynes made Gareth a gun captain.
• • •
Another thing Gareth found unsettling was the way the crew behaved. Some knew little of Luynes, but a bit less than half of the men had sailed with Luynes before.
These experienced sailors, and this included the two watch officers and the bosun, held their experience close, sharing it with none of the newcomers, as if it was some sort of pleasurable but shameful vice they practiced secretly. Some of these men were not much older than G
areth, but all were most experienced seamen.
Even offwatch, yarning, they didn’t mingle with the others.
Gareth asked one of them, when the man had the helm and Gareth was the only other one on the quarterdeck. The man looked innocently wide eyed, and said, “Why sir, it’s not that we’ve secrets or anything. But you should know by now how people tend to hold back when they’re around fellows who’re yet untested.”
Gareth knew that, nodded understanding. His doubts might have vanished if he hadn’t seen the way the man looked at him an instant later, under his brows, his expression calculating, shrewd.
The two watch officers were Kelch and Rooke. They were highly experienced, but they seemed more like prison warders than sailors to Gareth, even though they never laid a hand on any seaman. The bosun, Nomios, wasn’t much better.
Gareth was glad that he had three completely reliable friends, and hoped he was just being overly suspicious.
A week south of Killis, Luynes ordered the crew to gather on the maindeck, save the helmsman and a single lookout.
Luynes clambered atop one of the cannon and stood looking about for a moment, thumbs hooked in his breeches, appearing very satisfied with the world.
“All right, now,” he said. “I’m proposing to finally tell you where we’re bound, and what our intentions are. Some of you, who’ve sailed with me before, have a good idea, for we’ve dabbled in these cargoes before.”
“We’re not bound for spices, then?” one of the new men asked.
“That’ll be the cargo we finish up with, when we finally sail back north,” Luynes said. “And it’ll make us all as rich as I promised.
“But first, we’ll be loading goods damn’ near as valuable.
“Men,” he said. “Men and women.”
“Slaves?” someone asked, and there was a ripple of amusement from the older hands.
“Slaves it is,” Luynes said. “I had the Steadfast purpose-built for them. She’s shallow-draft, which is why she rolls so bastardly. But she’ll be able to cruise up the rivers of Linyati and Kashi — that’s the other half of their continent — and take on cargoes the raiders who go into the interior after the natives will bring to us.”
“Which,” Knoll N’b’ry said, “we then take to the Linyati?”
“Exactly, boy. That bother you?”
“It does, sir. First, I don’t like the idea of doing business with the Slavers, second I don’t like being a slaver myself.”
Mutters of agreement came from some of the crewmen.
“Well,” Luynes said, “ain’t that tough titty. You signed aboard to follow my orders, remember?”
“I signed aboard,” Knoll said stubbornly, “to learn to be a sailor, and trade for spices, I thought. Not to be a murderer.”
Rooke the mate growled, and Knoll set his jaw firm.
“You’re not going to be murdering anyone, boy,” Luynes said. “You’ll be going up and down the mast, pulling ropes, standing your watch. What we’ve got under the hatches, now and later, is none of your damned business.”
Knoll was looking at Gareth. Gareth moved his head, very slightly, sideways. N’b’ry looked stubborn, then forced blankness.
“Aye, aye, sir,” he said, but his voice still was stubborn. “I’ll follow orders.”
“Damn’ right you will,” Kelch snapped.
Labala started forward, then stopped.
“You have something to say?” Luynes said.
“Nossir. Things is just surprisin’ to me.”
“The only surprise you should concern yourself with is how much more gold you’ll go ashore with when we get back to Ticao,” Luynes said, and there was laughter and agreement.
“Now, back to your posts. Purser, I want a word with you.”
Luynes waited until the crew dispersed, then:
“And what do you think your uncle would think of that?”
“Not my concern, sir,” Gareth said. “He’s a long ways distant, now isn’t he?”
He gave Luynes a gaze of straightforward innocence, and hoped the rakehelly would buy his lie.
“I sort of figured you’d feel like that,” Luynes said. “That’s why I signed you. I figured any man with ambition like you’ve shown wouldn’t worry overmuch about the laws of a faraway place, particularly when he can get rich by being a pragmatist. Most of the world doesn’t agree with this namby-pamby shit anyway.
“Shitfire, Gareth, I’ll bet that half the peasants in Saros are nothing but slaves, what with their duties and oaths to their lords and estates.”
Gareth thought that was likely true, but the lowest scut at home still called his soul his own.
“Now give me a hand with something.”
Gareth followed Luynes into his cabin, and the man opened one of his seachests and lifted out a cylinder wrapped in rags. He unwrapped it, and Gareth saw a very strange-looking lantern, with ornate carvings on it.
“This,” Luynes said, “is our safe passage among the Linyati. It took damned near a week of negotiating, and a bit of gold, before they were willing to trust me with it.”
Luynes took the lantern on deck, and to the mizzen mast. Now Gareth noted the mast had four climbing steps on it, and, above them, a clever metal hook.
“Hold the lamp for me.”
Gareth took the lantern, and Luynes took flint and steel from his pouch. He opened a small door in the lantern, and struck sparks, muttering a few words in a language Gareth didn’t know.
“Now, if you’ll hang this up there …”
Gareth obeyed. There was no heat to be felt at all, and he saw no flame within.
“I think it went out, sir.”
“It’s fired,” Luynes said. “The light it gives is hard to see, except by certain eyes. But we’ll be able to make it out by night.”
And truly, when it grew dark, a strange, greenish glow illuminated the helm and the men on watch.
• • •
“I’m damned,” Thom Tehidy said, “if I’ll go a-slaving.”
“Nor me,” Labala said, and there were whispers of agreement from the half-dozen new men around Gareth and his friends. It was the third watch of the night, and they were on the main deck, near the stern, hidden by the main deck above and the bulk of the covered cannon next to them.
“But what choice do we have?” a man asked. “We signed the articles, and I believe if we don’t follow Luynes’s orders he’ll likely bash in our pates with a marlinspike and toss us to the sharks.
“I’ve never known a slaver before, but I don’t think anybody who is, is going to worry a rat’s tinkle about somebody like me.”
Knoll N’b’ry nodded somberly. “You’re likely right. I saw the way that sheepshagger looked at me, and was damned grateful Gareth gave me that ‘shut your lip’ look.”
“Gareth,” Tehidy said, “you’ve just been listening. What’re your thoughts?”
“First is we’ve got to keep this short,” Gareth said. “We don’t know if the skipper or any of his friends have any of the Gift for eavesdropping — ”
“Not likely,” Labala interrupted. “I went and figured out a little spell that should make anybody interested think we’re just wondering about the change, and not thinking of doing anything about it.”
“Which is pretty true,” another sailor said. “What can we do?”
“Start with the numbers,” Gareth said. “Twenty-five of the forty-one men aboard have never sailed with Luynes.”
“But that doesn’t mean a good number of ‘em won’t follow him,” a sailor said.
“That’s probably true,” Gareth said.
“First choice we might have is jumping ship when we make the next port,” a sailor said.
“Won’t work,” Thom said gloomily. “I was polishing the binnacle, and keeping my ears open, and heard Kelch and Rooke talking about the next landfall, and how they’re looking to cut loose with some of the slave women they can rent. I wouldn’t guess a port that’s got slave whores is
likely to treat an antislaving swab very kindly.”
Gareth nodded.
“Luynes told me, after dinner tonight, we’ll be docking for water and fresh provisions at a city called Herti. He told me it isn’t one of the Linyati holdings, but it might as well be. He’ll be meeting with his Linyati lords for sailing orders.
“A sailor without a ship in a port like that could be well in danger of getting chained up by the Linyati, I’d guess.”
Gareth unconsciously touched the scar on his face. “That’s not for me,” he said, and saw nods of agreement.
“Second is we can try to seize the ship.”
“Mutiny,” someone whispered.
“A hanging offense,” Labala said. “Even I know that.”
“And Luynes hasn’t done anything illegal,” Gareth said. “There’s nothing that I know of on paper about our real trade. And he could probably make a good case, even if he admitted to being a slaver, that we were obeying lawful orders having nothing to do with our cargo.”
“The King’s Admiralty courts back in Saros always back the officers,” a man said. “I’ve seen men hanged along the waterfront for mutiny.”
“As have I,” Gareth said. “But let’s say we could take the ship.”
“The odds are close,” Knoll said.
“No,” Gareth said. “Not if we could take down Luynes and the mates. If we’ve a leader and a plan, the other men and the bosun will follow us.”
“How can you be so damn’ sure?” Tehidy said.
“I don’t know why I know it,” Gareth said quietly. “But I do.” There was a sudden touch of steel in his voice.
Tehidy looked at him in surprise, then pursed his lips thoughtfully.
“Assuming all that’s true,” Thom said, changing the subject, “we’re still deep in unfriendly waters. Isn’t that weird light you helped put up signaling the Linyati that we’re on their side, Gareth?”
“That’s what Luynes told me,” Gareth said.
“Slaving,” a man said. “It’s bitter to the mind and the tongue.”
“You’re right,” Gareth said. “But all I can think of right now is for us to let a little time pass, and maybe a better alternative will crop up.”
