Call of the Bone Ships

by Rj Barker

  Were a terrible few days and, well, you know Safeharbour, Shipwife. Built onto the stone of the island, ain’t nowhere to hide so we weathered it best we could and the Bern Council had us gather up every bit of written word that we had about all the comings and goings and burn them – so none would know who had visited us and who stood with us. So don’t you fret none, shipwives, for you are as safe as we could make you.

  On the second day they made a run at the harbour chain but with the towers and Sea Louse’s gallowbows and the militia we kept ’em off, though it were hard fighting and I lost my new man in it. Arrin were not that happy with the way it went but he did not say why, not to such as me at any wave, for I am just a fisher and that is all, so why should he tell me? And ’sides, grief were my companion that day and I wished for no other. But after the first run at the harbour chain the Bern Council stepped back and let Arrin run the town for it were a military operation now. He gave us some speeches, good they were, rousing. Though weren’t no one in the crowd fooled, seemed nothing short of Skearith the Stormbird dropping from the sky were likely to save Safeharbour and by the end of the second day all that was not stone were burning, and we all had moved up to the great Bothy, which them catapults could not reach. That were where Shipwife Arrin told us the plan what he had and I do not lie to say it caused a true ruckus among those of us that heard it. He did not mind, said he understood an’ all, but that he saw no other way.

  You ask what were his plan?

  Oh, Hag curse me, Shipwife, I forget you do not know all. Arrin said that Safeharbour could not survive alone. Said the fight we had at the chain were nothing great, called it ex-ploray-tory. Said they would come back harder and faster and with more seaguard, and Mother help me I have never seen fighters as big as them, or as ready to die, and with the death of my man so raw in me head I had no wish to fight them again. Arrin said we must get out and he gave us each a message to take. He gathered all us fishers – thirteen there were, which as you all know is a Hag-blessed number – and said we must escape the harbour, even with them big ships out there waiting, cos it weren’t just the boneships and the brownbones by then, there were others too, big wingflukes, almost as a big as Sea Louse. Shipwife Arrin said we must run; he would take out Sea Louse, fight the ships waiting outside the harbour and behind him the fishers would come, making all the speed they could out to the open sea. He did not lie to us, said many would die. But we all knew he were one of them for a ship like Sea Louse could not take on four boneships alone, he did not ask anything of us he was not prepared to give up himself. I do not think, in my life, I have ever been more scared, even when a jellybeak rose out the water once and grabbed the spine o’ my ship, and I tell you that were a close-run thing if ever there were one.

  But that were how it were to be. He said we would break under cover of night and those that got away were to seek out the black ships for that was where friends would be found, and the worst that could happen to us was we would be pressed into the crew.

  We went that night and I have never known such fear. Sea Louse led, and how grand he were, all his wings raised, black as night. Had fire burning at every gallowbow and, well, you know the wind in Safeharbour, comes right over the island and can drive a ship out past the towers at a hearty speed. Well, that is what Arrin did. The Hag sent that wind for him, and he went out determined to take as many to her as he could. Truly, when I saw Sea Louse under war, when I heard the warmoan of his bows, I thought us invincible. He led us out, the big ship and thirteen little fishers. I saw his first salvos and the way he steered his ship between our attackers. I do not think they expected him. Far as I can tell he took them by surprise and they paid the Hag’s price for it. One of their two-ribbers was spinebroke almost straight away and it got in the way of the other ships. I truly thought for a moment we may make it.

  But someone in that fleet, they were canny, clever. Knew what we were about, see. For they did not turn their bows on Sea Louse, not straight away. They turned them on us, on the fishers. I have never seen the damage a . . .

  No, please Shipwife, let me finish. I will be alright. The Hag knows tears for the dead are prayers, so you let me pray for if I do not finish this tale now I never will.

  See, I had never seen the damage a gallowbow bolt could do to a flukeboat, never thought one shot could wreak so much havoc. We did not stand a chance. Shipwife Arrin told us to split the moment we left the harbour and those that did not follow that order quick enough went first – one broadside from a four-ribber, name of Wyrm Sither, took them all out. Them who didn’t die straight away was ripped apart by longthresh. They took their time with t’other boats. Taking them down one by one, the boats too. Not the crews. They let them go into the water. More cruel than needed, that were.

  Only I as far as I know, Shipwife, ey – only I escaped.

  No, Shipwife. Do not call me brave, for it is not true.

  I live because I were a coward and did not follow the orders from brave Arrin. Rather than make for the sea I hugged the outer harbour wall, stayed in its shadow, made my way back to the island and round the coast a little. I hid my boat in a cove while Sea Louse burned behind me, and if I had not then I doubt I would be here.

  Well, it is kind that you say it was clever. But it was all done from fear and I will not lie to myself about that, Shipwife.

  I stayed on the island for two days, watching. They moved their fleet into the harbour, put down the staystones and then, oddest of all, started loading people onto the brownbone. There was maybe five hundred people left in Safeharbour when I made my run.

  Help, Shipwife? No, Arrin did not sent us out to bring help, not in the end. He sent us out to tell you Safeharbour is lost, he sent us out to warn you.

  He sent us to tell you to run.

  Five years upon the sea was she

  Brought havoc to her enemy

  Left wrecks behind in fire and blood

  Thought always of her perfect love

  She flew up high, she flew down low

  Heave on, crew, heave on.

  From north to south she flew the storms

  Heave on, crew, heave on.

  She flew to east, she flew to west

  Heave on, crew, heave on.

  And always thought of home, hey!

  She always thought of home.

  From “The Black Pirate” – traditional ballad

  8

  To Follow a Foul Course

  When the fisher finished her tale the officers sat, stiff and unable to speak. Watching as tears coursed silently down her weathered face. Meas opened her mouth, coughed to clear her throat and went down on one knee by the fisher.

  “The Mother and Maiden see your service, Fasni, and know it a great one. Do not berate yourself for fear. Sometimes fear is what makes us canny, eh?” She put a hand on the fisher’s shoulder. “Now, I have one last task to ask of you, but you need not take it up and if you do not wish to I will think no less of you.”

  “I will do whatever is needed, Shipwife,” she said quietly. “I am yours to command.”

  Meas nodded once then kept her head bowed, staring at the white floor of the great cabin. When she eventually looked up it felt to Joron as though Meas was struggling to lift her head against a great weight.

  “Do you know the island of Falsehulme?” The fisher nodded. “There is a message flag there. I will write you a message, I would have you take it to Falsehulme and put the flag to half mast. Two hundred paces toward the Northstorm of the flag is a ring of large rocks that were put on their ends in the time of the Stormbird. Stand so you look at the biggest. To your landward will be a rock and at its base is a smaller stone that is almost a perfect circle. Place my message under that, if you will.”

  “I will,” she said.

  “Mevans!” shouted the shipwife and her steward appeared. “Take this fisher, give her whatever she needs. She has done us a great service. Then send Aelerin to us.” Meas clapped Fasni on the shoulder and moved ou
t of the way so she could leave. Once she was gone those gathered stood around: Joron shocked by what he had heard, Brekir and her deckkeeper deep in thought and all waiting for Meas to speak – but she did not, not until the courser appeared. “Aelerin, prepare a chart for Shipwife Brekir,” she said, “showing the route to Leasthaven.” The courser nodded and backed out of the cabin.

  “What is it you intend to do?” said Brekir.

  “The fisher’s message will warn our ships we are discovered, give them a new place to meet with us or leave messages. At Leasthaven, Brekir, you will find what we have of our small fleet that is currently laid up.”

  Brekir’s eyes widened. “Leasthaven? We have another port?” she said. “Is this a secret you did not think me worthy of, Meas?”

  “A secret Arrin and I told no one. The fewer know a secret, the less likely it is to spread. But you have had my implicit trust since we flew together in chase of the wakewyrm, Brekir, you know that.” Brekir shrugged then sat down. “We have nothing big there, nothing truly impressive. Most of our fleet are out, pretending loyalty to the Hundred or Gaunt Islands. At Leasthaven it is mostly repurposed brownbones, a couple of two-ribbers that need work. I would have you bring what you find of our fleet toward Safeharbour. Aelerin will find a place near enough we can meet without fear of being seen. Brave Arrin’s death will not go unavenged.”

  There was a space then, a moment for the ghost of Arrin to pass and the grief of losing a friend to settle in the room.

  “Can we fight four boneships, Meas,” said Brekir, “with a couple of brownbones and some broken two-ribbers?”

  “No.” Meas shook her head. “No we cannot. But the island is taken now and I imagine there will no longer be four boneships there. Two at most to hold it and catch any stragglers who appear, or that is what I would leave. If we turn up with what looks like a fleet they may even surrender straight away.”

  There was no doubt that Brekir, Vulse and Joron knew what Meas said to be unlikely, but they did not pursue it further because Meas had spoken and she commanded.

  Brekir stood. “I will bring your fleet, Shipmother,” she said. It was respect that had Brekir raise Meas’s rank, though Joron knew it must be as if another weight was pressed upon her shoulders.

  “Shipwife only, Brekir.”

  Brekir nodded. “I have been wondering ever since Fasni gave me her story, why attack Safeharbour now, Meas?” she said. “You have said before, you were sure your mother must know about Safeharbour, so why make her move now?”

  “Because the keyshans have returned,” Meas said. Brekir’s eyebrow raised in question. “My mother is far from stupid, she knew that without the arakeesians to supply bones the age of boneships was passing. War would grind to halt and new ways would have to be found. I expect she saw the community at Safeharbour as an experiment, and when the time came she may have legitimised it, brought it into her government even. Oh, she would have had conditions, my head among them once everything was made clear to her.” She picked up her cup from the table, put it back down. “But with the return of the arakeesians comes war, and war is what she knows well. It will mean she can fasten her grip so tightly on the Hundred Isles it will never be loosened. First Bern of the new keyshan age, how she will love that.”

  “Meas,” said Brekir, “forgive me this but I must ask.” Meas looked up, met her doleful gaze. “Do you send us to Safeharbour for the sake of our people, or to spite your mother?”

  Another silence then, a long one, a stilling of the air within the cabin, a moment where the ever-present noise of deckchilder about their duty seemed to cease and Tide Child seemed to stop rocking on the restless sea. A single shaft of light from Skearith’s Eye lit a column of dancing dust.

  “In truth, Brekir,” said Meas, “I am not sure.”

  Brekir nodded. “Well,” she said, “that is an honest answer and I can ask for no more. Come, Vulse, we have a trip to make and we must make it with all the haste we can muster.”

  When they were gone, and Joron had heard the whistles and shouts of them being saluted off Tide Child, Meas stood.

  “Say what is on your mind, Deckkeeper,” she said.

  He waited a second before speaking, deciding how to phrase the words in his mind, realising that however they were phrased there was no escaping the brutality of them. The finality.

  “Arrin gave his life to warn us away from Safeharbour,” he said. “And now we rush toward it.” Meas nodded at that. “I think only that Tide Child is our most powerful ship. We may risk losing him and that will turn a disaster into a calamity.”

  Meas tapped her finger on the desk and then went around and sat behind it.

  “Eight years, Joron. That is how long Indyl Karrad and I have been building Safeharbour up. Bringing women and men who wish to escape the Bern, on both sides of our ancestral war. Eight years, Joron. And we worked together for peace for many years prior.”

  “But we still exist, even without Safeharbour,” said Joron. “Is it worth risking losing our biggest ship taking back a town we cannot keep? And you know we cannot – as soon as your mother knows we have taken it back she will return with more ships. She will not let you win. Going to Safeharbour may mean we lose what small chance we have to rebuild somewhere else.”

  Meas sat back in her chair, stared at him and then stretched. “Anyone listening would think you the shipwife, not I, Deckkeeper.” And at that he seemed to shrink, the veneer of command he wore cracking and slipping away to expose the fisher’s boy beneath, so unsure of himself.

  “I . . . did not . . .”

  But Meas showed no sign of seeing these cracks, only broke out into a wide smile, though it was a cold smile too, one of amusement that told him she saw things he did not.

  “You are well worthy of that sword I gifted you, Joron” – he felt a warm glow within him at her words, and he touched the hilt of the blade at his hip – “and you are right to question me, in here at least.” Her face hardened. “But never out there, in front of the crew. In here it is your place on this ship to make me think. Now, tell me, did anything strike you as odd in the fisher’s account?”

  “You think she lied?”

  Meas shook her head. “No. Definitely not.”

  “Then no, not odd, Shipwife, only terrible. And sad, ey – terrible and sad.”

  “It is both those things, ey,” she said. “But is it not strange that this Shipwife, Barnt, did not ask for me?”

  “You never go ashore; why would it be odd you are not expected to be there?”

  “But I am recognisable, Joron, as is this ship,” she waved a hand at the bone walls around her. “And even in Safeharbour there were spies, that is why Arrin and the Gaunt Island shipwives ran it. But the attackers not asking for me makes me suspect my mother is not sure of my involvement, she would surely have wanted me taken.” Meas tapped the desk with her finger, thinking. “As it stands, to destroy Safeharbour may have been enough to sate her for now.” She smiled and leaned forward, “We do not go back for vengeance, despite what I let Brekir think, and I will make no attempt to repopulate Safeharbour.”

  “Then why do we go there?”

  “Our people, Joron, they need us.” She looked up, face dark with worry. Shoulders heavy with responsibility. “They had brownbones, like that great lug we tow, Joron, and Fasni said many were loaded onto them. Think of what we found on it.”

  “But they were the sick and broken, useless people. The people of Safeharbour are healthy, they are—”

  “Traitors, Joron. That is what they are to my mother. They are traitors and I do not believe that they will go to other lives, nor even a get a quick death. I go to Safeharbour to get what remains of my people there away. I will not let them suffer like those we found on the Maiden’s Bounty.”

  “And if they are already gone?” She looked away. Continued to speak as if he had not.

  “I intend to find the brownbones that left with my people. After we have saved those who remain at Sa
feharbour we shall go to Bernshulme and find out where they are being taken and why.”

  “Surely you cannot risk Bernshulme, Shipwife. Your mother . . .”

  “As I said, I don’t think she knows about me, Joron. Now, set us a course for Safeharbour and hope Aelerin dreams us good winds and swift passage.”

  On Tide Child’s deck was a ruckus. The gullaime had emerged from its nest and was doing its usual curious round of the deckchilder and their jobs – sticking its beak in with those it knew would tolerate it, hissing and cursing at those who it did not trust or had taken a dislike to. But it was not this that was causing the upset; the ship was used to and knew this. It was the attention the gullaime was showing the windshorn.

  Meas, true to her word as ever, had brought some aboard then put them to work. Knowing gullaime were dextrous she had the windshorn mending ropes and nets and wings for the ship, and now Tide Child’s own gullaime was showing its displeasure, hissing at the gaggle of windshorn as it passed, making them cower. If one had its back to the gullaime it would nip with its beak, making the windshorn squawk. In response their gullaime would open its beak and make an almost human laughing sound, something false and sinister.

  Behind their gullaime followed the windshorn that had sworn to protect it, staying low as if that may make it invisible. It would sneak forward and then, as if possessing some sixth sense for such things, the gullaime would swing round. Begin spitting and lashing out with its clawed feet. Shouting, “Not want! Not want!” The windshorn would react immediately, jumping backwards out of reach of the sharp beak, the wings under its robe outstretched as the gullaime continued to screech and squawk and swear in the many inventive ways it had picked up from the deckchilder. The windshorn would shrink under the onslaught until, finally, the gullaime became bored and returned to tormenting the other windshorn on the deck.