“And what good would that do?” Keli asked. “Isn’t Liv busy enough without having to deal with your questions? What would you tell her to do that she doesn’t have sense enough to do on her own? Being able to talk over a distance like that would be a mighty nuisance, if you ask me.”
“What about a healing problem?” Jules asked. “Suppose you had a special problem with someone on the crew and didn’t know what to do. Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to ask another healer for advice?”
Keli shrugged. “I suppose. Have you ever heard the one about how many people does it take to save a patient?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“It takes two,” Keli said, “one healer, and one big, mean bodyguard to keep any other healers from telling the first healer that they’re doing it all wrong.”
Jules laughed despite the tension inside her. “All right. But suppose one of the survivors on that wreck is badly hurt? Wouldn’t it be nice if Liv could talk to you about what to do?”
Keli shook his head. “I teach everyone on the crew what to do if someone gets hurt. How to stop bleeding and such. Liv and those with her know those things. If one of the survivors is hurt so badly that those measures can’t save them, then it’s doubtful that anything I could do by calling out advice could save them either. There’s only so much a healer can do to treat the ills that befall people.” He paused, his expression growing wistful. “They do say the Mechanics have devices that can save people who wouldn’t have a chance of surviving with what common folk healers know. But they reserve those devices for other Mechanics. And Mages can do anything, supposedly. I wouldn’t mind being able to save those I can’t save with what tools I have and what skills I’ve learned. But the Mechanics won’t share, and who’d dare ask a Mage? If that daughter of your line overthrows the Great Guilds, do you think she’ll force them to share what they know?”
“I hope so,” Jules said, squinting again to see more as distant figures clambered down into the longboat, passing along burdens of some kind. “But that worries me, too.”
“Why is that?”
Jules tapped the revolver at her hip. “Suppose the Emperor could equip his legions with Mechanic weapons like this instead of swords and crossbows? You’ve seen the Mechanic ships, all metal with big weapons mounted on them. What if the Emperor had ships like that? What hope would the commons have to be free of the Emperor’s control? Maybe we’d just be trading one set of overlords for another.”
“I thought the prophecy said your daughter would free the world,” Keli said.
“Yes,” Jules said. “It does.”
“Then there must be a way to do it, even if the Emperor gets his hands on such weapons.” He leaned on the railing, giving out a long sigh. “To you, that Mechanic weapon seems amazing. To me, it’s just another way of tearing holes in a person. We’ve both seen what swords, or a crossbow bolt, can do to a body. None of it’s pretty. All of it’s awful.”
Jules glanced at him. “Why do you help me, Keli? Why are you a pirate? Hurting people is often what we do.”
He shrugged again. “A healer depends for work on people getting hurt, and we’re never short of work no matter where we are. I guess it matters to me why it happens. I don’t want an Emperor, or Mechanics or Mages, telling me what I can and can’t do. Not as long as I’m helping instead of hurting. Out here on the water I have a voice in what happens. I get to vote for who’s to be captain, and on what the ship’ll do next. As to why this ship, well, there was Mak. And now there’s you. I could do worse.”
“I’ll never be half the captain that Mak was,” Jules said, her gaze shifting from the sun dropping steadily lower to where the longboat was still alongside the wreck, bobbing up and down as swells rolled by, sailors in the boat using oars to try to keep the boat from slamming into the side of the wreck.
“Mak thought otherwise,” Keli said, standing straight and shading his eyes with one hand. “Looks like they’re casting off.”
“Finally,” Jules breathed. “Ang! They’re starting back!”
After that what remained was the longboat’s cautious exit from the reefs, as the sun reached the horizon and sank beneath it, the sky dimming through twilight and the countless stars coming into view above. But brilliant as the fields of stars were, they didn’t cast nearly enough light for the longboat to safely navigate. Jules breathed a sigh of relief when the longboat finally cleared the reefs and the sailors aboard drove their oar strokes straight for the Sun Queen.
With darkness falling, lanterns were lit and hung from spars to guide the longboat and illuminate the area when the boat reached the ship.
Liv came up the ladder from the boat first. “There were ten more aboard.”
“Any hurt?” Keli asked.
“Just some bumps and bruises. They were confined below when the masts came down so they didn’t get caught in any of that.” Liv made a face. “We took off their bags with their personal possessions, the ship’s strongbox, and a few slabs of salt. It was too rough to risk taking more.”
“I won’t second guess you on that,” Jules said, though she understood Liv’s disappointment. The full cargo of salt on that wreck would’ve turned a tidy profit for the Sun Queen.
The rescued sailors were coming up the ladder as the crew of the Sun Queen hastened to bring the longboat back aboard. Liv gestured one over to Jules. “Here’s our captain.”
The man stared at Jules as if at a ghost. “She’s alive?”
“Nah,” Liv said. “She’s been dead for years. We just prop her up when we want to impress people.”
“Very funny,” Jules said.
Gathering his wits, the sailor offered a rough salute. “First Officer Daki of Sandurin off the…” He faltered, looking back through the gloom to where the wreck was only a darker smudge in the night. “I was off the Merry Runner.”
“Marta,” Jules called, “get these other survivors down below and give them some food and a spot to hang their hammocks. Daki, I’d like to speak with you.”
Her cabin wasn’t large, so a single lantern sufficed to light it. She glanced at the former first officer of the Merry Runner, seeing the tension in him, the nervous twitches, like those of a dog that had been mistreated for too long. Jules knew that look from her childhood in the legion orphanage, where the guards or the supervisors could single out a boy or girl for any reason or no reason at all and make their life a misery. What had worked for those fellow orphans would probably work with this man. Jules put a hunk of cheese and a biscuit on the table, then filled a mug with a mix of rum and water. She gestured Daki to one seat before taking another.
Daki sat down, hesitated, then took a big bite of the cheese, chewing quickly. Jules waited, saying nothing, watching him calm down as he ate and absorbed the quiet normality of her cabin. The former first officer of the Merry Runner was somewhere in his middle years, that area between young and old that was hard to narrow down, especially in someone whose face had borne many days of sun and wind and salt water spray. He was missing the thumb on his right hand, a long-healed scar where it had been, the result of either an accident or an old fight.
“What happened?” Jules finally asked.
Daki flinched and closed his eyes as if trying to block out the memory. “We were at the loading pier for salt. You know where that is? West of here, where there’s a passage through the reefs. Nothing there, really. Just the desert as far as you can see, and a few storehouses where the salt that Imperial convicts mine inland is brought to wait for a ship. We were loading it, no problems, when they showed up.” He shuddered.
“The Mages told you to take them?”
“Not in words. They just walked aboard. Who’d dare to stop them or question them? And the one who seemed to be in charge pointed out to sea and east.” Daki took a quick drink, breathing heavily before he could speak again. “We put off and headed out, of course. What else could we do?”
“You had a large cargo aboard,” Jules said.
“Yeah, we were mostly loaded. So, we headed east along the coast. If our captain tried to get too far away from the coast those Mages would point him back closer in, so that’s where we stayed.”
“Where’s your captain?”
Daki grimaced. “They took him and three others when they left the wreck they’d made of the Merry. They headed east again, so I guess they want to get back to Imperial lands. Of course they needed some sailors to do the work of getting them there.”
He didn’t look happy at the idea. Jules knew why. If that captain and his three sailors were lucky, the Mages would reach their destination and simply walk away without a word, leaving the sailors destitute but alive. But sometimes Mages got rid of commons when they were no longer needed, killing them with the same lack of concern as someone stepping on an ant in their path. “At least that gave the rest of you a chance,” Jules said.
“We didn’t think so,” Daki said. “The waves will make short work of the Merry where she’s hung up, and then we’d have to try to make it to a shore where food and water are both lacking. I got the others tearing up deck planks and working on a raft even though we all knew it’d probably be wrecked on the rocks before we got far from the Merry. Had to try, though, right? But we thought we were done for until we realized your ship was coming back. Even then…some pirates are pretty awful, you know. But Fran, she said she was sure it was your ship, Captain Jules, and we’d be all right.”
“Fran must be a smart sailor,” Jules said, pouring more water and rum into Daki’s mug. “So, the Mages insisted you sail east and stay close to the coast.”
“Not in words,” Daki said. “Just pointing and those awful dead faces they have. We never knew if—” He paused, wide eyes staring at Jules. “One afternoon two of them Mages walked up to Wil and slit his throat. He hadn’t done anything. They just did it. Maybe they wanted to keep the rest of us jumping to their orders.” He took a long drink. “Then, today, we sighted your ship, and I swear the Mages seemed almost happy, though they didn’t look it. Like they’d been waiting for it. They told the captain to take the helm and ordered the rest of us below decks. We spent a long time like that. I was nearest the ladder up, and finally heard one of the Mages say something about the shore. That voice!”
“They sound pretty awful,” Jules agreed. “No feeling in the voices at all.”
“You’ve heard them? Well, of course you have. Um…the Mage said something and the captain shouted it was death to go closer to shore. But the Mages insisted, I guess. We felt the ship turn and knew we were heading for the rocks.”
He hesitated, looking sidelong at Jules. “Those Mages, it was like they knew you and your ship would be there.”
“It’s not the first time,” Jules said. “Why did the Mages want to go closer to shore?”
“I don’t know and that’s the truth. I had time for a few words with the captain after the ship hit the reef, and he said the Mages just said do it.”
Jules shook her head. “If they wanted me dead, they had me right there. Why turn away at that point?”
“I don’t know! It was clear enough they’d come to kill you,” Daki said. “The captain said once they’d seen you fall they turned away like they didn’t care anymore. And I saw them before they left the Merry. I don’t know Mages, but I know people who’ve been given a job to do and how they act once it’s finished. Like ‘all right, that’s done with, let’s go.’ That’s how those Mages seemed before they left our ship.”
“They think I’m dead?”
“We all thought that,” Daki said. “Our captain said he saw the Mage lightning hit you.”
“It did hit me,” Jules said.
Daki sat staring at her until Jules gave him a dismissive and irritated wave. “It was weak,” she said, having decided on that as an explanation. “Maybe Mages secretly use devices like Mechanics do, and there was something ashore they needed to make a strong spell. But they couldn’t get it because they ran your ship onto a reef, so they made do with what they could. You can join the rest of your crew. Tell them that we’ll put them off in our next port as we would survivors of any wreck.”
“Thank you, Captain. We can do work on this ship to pay for our food and berths.”
Jules nodded. “We’ll take you up on that. Do you have any idea what’s in the ship’s strongbox?”
“Probably very little. We’d just taken on cargo and hadn’t sold it.” The former first officer of the Merry Runner hesitated. “Captain, I think some of us, at least some of us, would be interested in joining your crew.”
“We’ve got a pretty full crew,” Jules said, being sure to sound regretful at the rebuff. “And you’d be signing on to be pirates.”
“I can fight, Captain Jules.” He held up the hand with a missing thumb. “I served on an Imperial galley until I lost this. Couldn’t hold a sword after that. But I learned to use the other hand.”
“Well done,” Jules said. She knew the Imperials could’ve kept Daki in service, trained him to fight left-handed, except for the Imperial rule that all legionaries had to fight with the right hand so there’d be no variations or weaknesses in the shield wall.
“I could’ve still pulled an oar,” Daki said, “but they said that wasn’t good enough.”
“You pulled an oar on an Imperial galley?” Jules asked, surprised. Those on the oars were the lowest level of a galley’s crew, worked hard and expected to fight as backups to the galley’s legionaries. “But you were first officer on your ship?”
Daki shrugged. “After I left Imperial service I worked hard on more than one ship, and I learned what I had to learn. I earned that berth on the Merry,” he added, sounding defensive.
“I’m sure you did,” Jules said, making another, different, inner appraisal of him. Anyone who could work their way up from the oars to first officer had proven a great deal about themselves. And he’d kept his head after the Mages left, keeping the other survivors busy making a raft. “We’ve already got a full crew, but we can probably make room for you, at least.”
Distress flitted across the sailor’s face. “I could not leave the others from the Merry unless I knew they’d be all right. The ship is gone, but the captain would expect me to look after those of the crew who remain.”
Her opinion of the man rose another notch. “I’ll talk to my officers and see what can be done.”
“I understand,” Daki said, pausing once more, his expression working in the light of the single lantern. “Captain, could you tell me, is it true?”
“Is what true?” Jules said. She knew exactly what Daki was asking about, but annoyance at the question warred with her sense of courtesy.
“The prophecy. Is it true?”
“You’ll have to ask that daughter of my line, whenever she shows up,” Jules said. “It’ll be up to her to make it happen.” She waited, tense, to see if Daki would follow up by hitting on her. Daki seemed a decent sort, but she’d been propositioned by enough apparently decent sorts to no longer have any patience with them.
“But you’re the first common to ever stand up to the Great Guilds and not be killed,” Daki said.
“So far,” Jules said, waiting to see what else Daki would say.
He hesitated like a man about to leap across a chasm and looked down at the table between them. “If you are willing…”
One of her hands, beneath the table and unseen by the sailor, slid back to the dagger sheathed at the small of her back.
“I would fight by your side against the Great Guilds,” Daki finished in a rush. “I have family in Sandurin. I must think of them as well, but it would be for my children’s freedom.”
Jules relaxed, nodding, her hand leaving the hilt of the dagger. “I wouldn’t ask anyone to ignore the needs of their family. In all honesty, it may be our great-great-grandchildren or even later before that daughter of my line shows up.” She paused, hearing running feet that warned of trouble even before a rapid double knock on the cabin’s door.
“On the horizon?” Jules asked. “Has it reappeared?”
“Closer than the horizon. Cori thinks the light went out when they spotted our lights.”
“Blazes. Pass the word to extinguish all lanterns, and take Daki here to his friends from the Merry Runner.”
She paused only long enough to blow out the single lantern in the stern cabin before following Gord and Daki out on deck. Racing up to the quarterdeck, having no trouble with the familiar route in the dark, she found Ang still standing near the helm. “Have you taken any breaks today?”
“I ate dinner,” Ang said. “Have you?”
She hadn’t, so rather than replying Jules looked upward. “Cori! Was the light from an honest lantern, or some of that weird Mechanic light?” Lanterns and candles burned flames that put out a warm, yellowish light which varied in strength. The crew of the Sun Queen had seen Mechanic lights, though, which were much more white, much brighter, and never altered.
“It wasn’t any of that Mechanic light,” Cori called back. “I would’ve seen it sooner if it was.”
“Did you ever see the Mechanics use regular lanterns?” Ang asked Jules.
It was a natural question to ask of her. Jules had been aboard one of the Mechanic ships made of steel, a rare experience for a common. “No. All I saw on their ship were their lights. Too bright to even look at straight on.”
“Would they have lanterns, though? Just in case?”
She shook her head, peering over the night-dark waters. “The last time I met with Mechanics they used some small version of their lights that they could put in a pocket. I think Mechanics refuse to use regular lanterns because that’s what we use. They always have to show off their special light to make it clear they think they’re above us. If Cori saw a regular lantern, that means it’s not one of the Mechanic ships.”
Explorer of the Endless Sea Page 3