“Superstitious wretch! There is no edge to the world!”
“So says a black-skinned demon. Better to drown than go back to your home!” The last of the lines came loose, and the boat began to drift away.
For a brief moment, Ahmed considered letting them go to their doom, but he knew it was too cruel a punishment for simply being idiots. Besides, he really needed them. His men could likely run the ship without them, at least for a while, but it would be dangerous with no extra hands. They could limp back to the coast on their own, but without a navigator, they would never be going home. Ahmed thought briefly of Tahir, remembering how much he had hated the halfbreed.
Ahmed looked about, hoping some of his men would be closer, but they were only just now emerging onto the main deck. If the mutineers got the boat even a short distance away, it would be damnably difficult to overpower them. His men were soldiers, not sharks.
His eye fell upon a great hunk of metal lying against the rails. It was tied to a long rope. An anchor, perhaps? No, too small, and he didn’t really need to know exactly what its actual use was in order to give it a new one. He pulled at it, grunting. It was at least a hundred pounds. Good. That should do. He hauled the thing onto the top of the rail with a grunt.
“Will you not turn back, fools?” he called down.
They looked up in horror, realizing his plan, but this did nothing to dissuade them. They scrambled for oars and plunged them in the water, cursing and shouting at one another.
Ahmed heaved the chunk of metal over the side. The escapees watched it fall, screaming and scrambling to get out of the way. It hit the bow like a catapult missile, tearing away the entire front of the boat with the thunderous crash of snapping timber.
Ahmed turned back to his approaching men. “Someone help them aboard before they drown. And find me that damned Nihlosian!”
They found him quickly enough, bound and gagged in the aft crew’s quarters. Eleran glared about in impotent fury as they laughed at his plight, his eyes making promises for his fists to keep when he was free. Ahmed grinned at this and brought out his blade to cut the bonds. “Hold still, fool, or I’ll end up opening an artery.”
Eleran groaned, but held still long enough to get a hand free. He tore the gag from his mouth and groped for Ahmed’s blade. Ahmed pulled it back, smiling. “A man’s sword means something. Would you grab at my woman, too, if I had one?”
Eleran’s rage faded, and he offered Ahmed a wry smile. “Probably.”
Ahmed relented and handed him the blade. “No wonder they didn’t include you in their plans.”
“Yeah, that and the fact that I’m the 'paleskin',” Eleran said as he began cutting through the rest of his bonds. “Like I said, I do a lot of fighting.”
Ahmed scowled at this. It was surely true, and even something he might have done himself. But suddenly, it seemed wrong. A beast did not know it was a beast. If it had the presence of mind to object to being treated as such, then it would not be a beast.
Eleran handed the blade back and massaged aching muscles. “Thanks.”
“Did you see what happened to the midwatch?” Ahmed asked.
“Nope. I gotta take a leak, ok? Then I’ll help you look for them.”
Ahmed nodded, and the two headed up the ladder to the main deck. Ahmed scowled at the mutineers, currently being held at swordpoint by several of his men.
Eleran did his business over the side, looking about as he did so. Too late, Ahmed realized that the entire business about the rail was less biological and more scouting. When Eleran was done, he charged headlong at the mutineers’ ringleader, knocked him flat, and rained a truly impressive series of blows on the man.
Ahmed and his men didn’t know the exact reason for the fight, but they followed decorum, gathering round in a circle and pounding rhythmically on the deck and rails.
It quickly became apparent that Eleran was not merely boasting when he claimed he did a lot of fighting. It was likewise apparent that the ringleader did very little. Ahmed let it go on for a bit. It was rude to interfere in a contest of fists or steel, but a contest of fists was supposed to be non-lethal.
“Enough!” Ahmed called. Eleran seemed not to hear. Ahmed stepped in and grabbed him from behind. It took three more of the Xanthians to completely restrain Eleran’s flailing fists and pin him to the deck. Ahmed put a knee on the Nihlosian’s heaving chest and looked down at him with admiration. “We will release you when your blood cools. You are a good fighter.”
Sandilianus’s head poked from below decks, followed by the rest of his body as he mounted the ladder. “Did I miss it all?”
Ahmed pointed to the ringleader. “This fool needs a medic.”
Sandilianus eyed Eleran, who was still gasping and struggling against Ahmed’s men. “What did he do to you?”
Eleran took a deep breath and relaxed. “What didn’t he do?” His captors, sensing he was in control once again, backed away cautiously, ready to seize him again if this were a ruse. “But lately? He took my stash, for one thing. That shit was worth a fucking month’s pay!”
The ringleader spat through bloody lips, “Fuck you, demon man dog.”
Sandilianus kicked him in the ribs, drawing a grunt from the man. “You have made enough enemies today. No need to encourage more. Now shall I throw you a beating as well, or will you have my aid?”
The ringleader snorted blood and shrugged. “I got no choice.”
Ahmed laughed. “Smart man.”
Sandilianus spoke as he examined the ringleaders wounds. “We found them below, Ahmed, piled up in the sail locker, sleeping like babies. We should beat them for being stupid enough to get drugged.”
“I may just do that. Meanwhile, I have other problems. I want you and your patient in my quarters as soon as he can walk.” He turned to Eleran. “You too, ‘demon man dog’.” He chuckled. “That’s too many words for a good insult.”
Eleran shook his head, embarrassed. “Sorry about the trouble.”
Ahmed nodded. “Don’t be.”
Sandilianus shook his head in dismay. “What I can’t understand is what you imbeciles hoped to accomplish! You were going to your deaths, fool.”
He stood leaning against the bulkhead of Ahmed’s cabin, arms crossed over his chest. Ahmed sat at a great desk, and Eleran and the ringleader occupied the two chairs facing Ahmed. The ringleader, who had identified himself as Bendaro, hunched his shoulders and scowled at the floor.
“We know how to sail,” he muttered.
“Thirty leagues of open ocean? In a fucking punt?”
Bendaro shrugged, looking more resigned now. “We knew the risks. We ain’t gonna get sailed over the edge of the world! Better to die.”
“Idiot!”
Ahmed had accepted the fact that he was dealing with a primitive, superstitious people. Sandilianus was still learning that. Ahmed spoke as if addressing a child. “Bendaro, if what you say is true, then why would Eleran go willingly?”
Bendaro’s head jerked up and he stared at Ahmed with wide eyes. “He is a demon like you! Why would he fear your land?”
Eleran chuckled. “If I was a demon, I’d set you on fire or something. You deserve way more than a beating for stealing my stuff.”
Bendaro shot him a look of pure poison, then turned back to Ahmed. “If you was really a man, and not a demon, you'd have mercy! My people believe it's true, even if it ain't. Don't you think we knew the risks?”
Ahmed slammed a fist on the desk. “And what of the slaves you sent there yourself, dog?” he shouted. “Did you fear for them as well? What right have you to speak to me of mercy when you have none?”
Bendaro sat straight up in his seat, shaken and pale. “You know about that, huh?” he asked in a quavering voice.
“Answer the question!”
Bendaro sighed. “At first, it was only prisoners, bad men. But then the captain got greedy.” He began to shake as he spoke, pleading with his eyes for understanding. “What could we do?
The captain was crazy! He even hired on a demon man to spy on us! If we didn't do like he said, he'd send us to the demons, too!”
Sandilianus rolled his eyes at the tale. “And where is this captain, hmm?”
“Fled! Over the side when you came.”
Ahmed considered the man’s tale a moment. It could be true. Perhaps they were not evil men. Just very, very stupid. He turned to Eleran. “What say you? Is this true?”
Bendaro shook his head in resignation. “If it's his to say, we're doomed. Either he is a demon and he'll screw us for fun, or he's a man and he'll screw us for revenge.”
Eleran kicked at Bendaro’s chair. “I may be a lot of things, but I’m no liar. Well, not unless it saves my skin, anyway.” He turned to Ahmed. “That’s pretty much how it was. The captain told them all that demon shit, threatened them with it pretty regular. All except the part about me being a demon.” He scowled at Bendaro again. “That, they came up with all on their own.”
Ahmed leaned back in his chair and looked down his nose at Bendaro. “Then you should be grateful to me for freeing you from a villain, should you not?”
Bendaro stared at the floor again, his face growing red. “If you ain't a demon, I reckon we should.”
“Then let us work together! When our mission is done here, we will want to go home. You can sail this vessel without us. You will take us home, and then the ship will be yours. We could even pay you wages once we arrive. It is a simple bargain. Surely it is less wicked than the one you struck with your captain!” They are not the real villains.
Bendaro shook his head slowly. “Even if I believe you, the men won't never buy it. They're afraid.”
Ahmed nodded gravely, saying nothing. He had expected as much. Ilaweh was answering. I am listening. Show me the way.
Eleran cleared his throat. “Actually, I might have an idea.”
Ahmed looked at him. “Well?”
Eleran looked around nervously. “We could find crew in Nihlos. They sell prisoners all the time there. They would be rowdy, probably, but you guys look like you’re on top of that sort of thing. They wouldn’t be a bunch of superstitious fools.”
And there it is. Ilaweh shows the way.
Sandilianus scowled at this notion. “Did you not just tell us you would be killed on sight in Nihlos? So will we. Who will buy these prisoners?”
Eleran took a deep breath. “They'd have to recognize me for that to matter. I could grow a good beard, maybe color my hair. We could do it. But we’d need money.”
Ahmed ran a hand over his head in frustration. “And we have none.”
Eleran grinned. “Wrong. We have gold. Lots of it.”
Ahmed eyed Eleran warily. “So you say? And where is this gold?”
Eleran pointed to the deck beneath Ahmed’s chair. “Under those boards, in a safe. I’ve seen it. I even tried to get at it once or twice, but I never could open the box.”
Ahmed leapt to his feet and hurled the chair aside. He stamped a foot against the boards, and they did indeed ring hollow. “Show me.”
The Nihlosian walked over to Ahmed and took a knee. He rapped his knuckles against the wood, searching. “It’s been a while. Wait…here!” He pulled at a knot in one of the planks. A small trap door, cunningly designed from whole planks so as to be invisible from above, swung open to reveal a heavy metal safe about the size of a footlocker.
Ahmed examined the box and hauled at it experimentally. It wouldn’t budge. “Let’s get it on deck and get a better look.”
Sandilianus stepped over and grabbed hold of the safe on one side, and Eleran did likewise on the other. Ahmed pulled on the top. With a great heave, the three men managed to lift it on to the deck, then sat down on the floor against the bulkhead, panting.
Ahmed spoke first. “It must weigh a ton. How much gold is in there?”
Eleran shrugged. “Uh, lots? I couldn’t exactly measure it. I wasn’t even supposed to know it was there.”
“How do we open it?”
“If I knew that, it wouldn’t be here.”
Sandilianus chuckled at this. “Aye, true.”
Ahmed studied the safe, fiddling with several dials and latches, but he could make no sense of it. “Useless. So we are back where we started.”
Bendaro cleared his throat. The three had nearly forgotten him in the excitement. “I got a deal for you.”
Ahmed glared at him. “If your deal doesn’t include how to get into this safe, you’re going to get a second beating this morning!”
Bendaro nodded. “It does. I seen him do it lots of times. I was just too scared to try for it.”
“And what is it you want in return?”
“We head back right now, as soon as you open the safe. You can hire men with the gold, and we can all go home.”
Ahmed considered a moment. “If there is gold. Because if there is none, we cannot hire anyone.”
Bendaro nodded again. “Here's what you do.”
Ahmed followed his instructions, twisting dials, flipping switches, and finally, turning a large bolt. A low, audible click filled the small cabin, and the safe door opened to a collective gasp.
Ahmed blinked in shock. “Ilaweh is great!”
The safe was filled to overflowing with gold coins. Sandilianus snatched one up to bite it and verify the metal, but paused with it halfway to his face. “Ahmed, this is a sword!”
Ahmed saw that it was indeed a coin from his own land, and rifled through the others. Mixed in the safe were Gruppenwald crowns, Laurean shields, Xanthian swords, and a number of vaguely round lumps of gold scarcely worthy of the name ‘coin’.
Eleran reached into the pile and held up a coin Ahmed did not recognize. “Nihlosian, too. The captain was a busy man.”
Ahmed grinned at him. “Aye. Is it enough for a crew?”
Eleran boggled. “Are you joking? It’s enough for a hundred!” He looked back at the heap of gold. “Maybe there’s jewels, too!”
Bendaro called out, “So now we can go home, yes?”
Sandilianus looked at Bendaro as if the man were mad. “Do you not see we have found a great treasure here? You might have a share of it, and a ship if you were not a superstitious fool.”
Bendaro shook his head. “No. No more work with demons, whatever the pay.”
Sandilianus stared aghast at him for a moment, then turned back to Ahmed. “Shall we head back, then?”
Ahmed tore his attention from the box of gold with some difficulty, but there was business to attend. “I am a man of my word,” he told Bendaro. “I will take your people home, but we must acquire our new crew first. Fair enough?”
Bendaro spat in his palm and extended his hand to Ahmed. Ahmed shook, sealing the deal. For the first time since Ahmed had known him, the man smiled, showing bloody teeth beneath his swollen lips. Observing Eleran’s handiwork, Ahmed thought again that the Nihlosian was a fine fistsman, perhaps a match for most of his own men.
“What course?” Bendaro asked.
“Do you know Nihlos?”
Bendaro's face grew sour at the mention of the name. “A dangerous place, but they have few ships. We can get close.”
“Then turn us around. And do not think to play games with me, or our bargain will be broken.”
With a grimace of pain, Bendaro rose and left the cabin. Ahmed heard him shouting orders to the crew. The commands he gave were meaningless to Ahmed, but the result followed quickly: the ship began to turn about.
Ahmed felt a rightness in it, that he was at long last going where he was meant to be. Nihlos, to find the sorcerers, just as Yazid planned. Beyond that, he still knew little, but he was on his way. After so much uncertainty and strife, that was enough. Surely when the time came, if the sorcerers had no knowledge to add, Ilaweh would guide him as he had done today.
Ahmed turned to Sandilianus and Eleran, who were still gleefully rifling through the gold coins. “Are not ships supposed to have a name?” he asked Sandilianus.
“Aye,�
�� said the soldier. “I do not know this one’s, but we have every right to rename her. We have captured her well and true.”
Eleran grinned at Ahmed. “How about ‘Lady Luck’?”
Ahmed shook his head. “No, my friend. We should praise our true benefactor. Our ship will be named ‘Ilaweh’s Will’.”
Sandilianus grunted his appreciation of the name. “So you think you know the path now, eh? What is it?”
Ahmed shrugged and offered a mischievous grin. I have waited long for this moment. “I cannot say. But I will tell you why.”
Sandilianus laughed. “Damned prelates, always with their mysteries and riddles. Don't want to look a fool when it turns out wrong, eh?”
Ahmed grew somber at this. “If what I am planning goes badly, I doubt I will be in a position to feel much shame.” I have no idea how to fight a sorcerer, should it come to that. They would likely make short work of me.
He would just have to hope their god or gods were as interested in saving the world as his own.
Chapter 8
A Brief Thaw
Waking came as something of a shock to Caelwen, chiefly in that he had not expected to do so. He found himself staring at an unfamiliar ceiling, lying in an unfamiliar bed, his head spinning with confusion and dislocation. Why is everything white? Where am I?
Memory rushed back as he came fully awake. The encounter with Davron had not gone as well as he had hoped. Of course, it seems to have ended better than I imagined. Assuming I'm not actually dead.
He was quickly disabused of that notion as he turned his head slowly to see the stern face of his father, blurry but clear enough to recognize. Polus sat in a large chair next to the bed, reading a book, and had yet to notice Caelwen's awakening.
“This is hardly the afterlife I had expected,” Caelwen rasped through dry lips.
Polus looked up quickly and rose, his face brightening, his lips not quite forming a genuine smile. It's a birth defect, or nerve damage, I swear. His mouth has been frozen like that as long as I've known him. Polus's eyes told the truth, though. Caelwen knew him well enough to understand his father was practically dancing a jig.
Mad God's Muse Page 15