Lying on the deck, Praji said, “That’s four of them. You’d think they’d get the hint and pull back.”
Harry called past Praji’s prone form to Tuka. “How much farther?”
“I think another hundred yards, Sab.”
They were drifting down the river, being fired at by archers on horseback who had come riding to investigate the fire. A bargeman had died from the first volley of arrows, and after that everyone hugged the decks. Harry called out, “Marcus!”
“What?” came the answer from the second boat.
“How are your people?”
There was a moment of silence, then Marcus called back, “We’ve got a wounded man here, but it’s not too bad.”
Calis called out, “Marcus—there are two particularly good targets outlined against the rising moon.”
“I’ll take the one on the left,” he said.
“On three,” called Calis. “One, two,” and on “three,” he stood and fired. Harry heard an answering bowstring hum as Marcus fired, too. A pair of shouts cut the night, and no more arrows came from the shore.
Harry counted to ten, then shouted, “Oars! Now!”
Boatmen jumped to grab the oars that had been shipped when the bowmen had begun shooting at them. They fitted them into the oarlocks and pulled hard, while the tillermen steered them back toward the center of the river. In short order, the ragged line had re-formed, and Harry shouted, “Is everyone all right?”
The question was shouted from boat to boat and the answer came back quickly: one dead, the first man shot; two injured, neither badly. Harry moved back to the bow of the first boat, glancing down at Brisa, who still huddled behind the cabin. “You all right?”
“Scared to death,” she snapped back. “But other than that, I’m fine.”
He knelt next to her. “We’ll be fine soon.”
“If your friend and his merry band have managed to ambush a ship under full sail…I grew up around ships, remember.” She shook her head. “I’m not holding my breath.”
He put his hand on hers. “We’ll be all right.”
She tried to smile. “I hope so.”
They entered the bay and moved along at a good pace, the wide riverboats wallowing in the swells. Harry said, “I’m glad we don’t have to take these things out to sea.”
Praji and Vaja stood holding on to the rail that ran around the low cabin. Praji said, “Sounds like fun to me.”
Vaja said, “If you’ve not observed it before, my friend has a twisted sense of humor.”
“I get the idea,” said Harry.
A shout from the rearmost boat caused Harry to turn. It was repeated, and then he heard Marcus shout, “There are boats coming after us.”
“Oh, damn,” said Harry, pushing past Praji to the tiller. He called to Marcus, “How many and how far?”
Marcus relayed the question and in a moment shouted back, “Three, a couple of hundred yards behind. They’re longboats, and they’re loaded with armed men.”
Harry quickly weighed his options, then said, “We’ve got the most fighters on the first two boats.” He called to Marcus, “Have your boat pull out to the right, and let the others pass. You and Calis will have to discourage those who follow.”
Praji glanced around. “Not much room to fight. Have the girl jump to another boat as it passes.”
Harry said, “Good idea.” Before Brisa could protest, he called out to Marcus, “Have Margaret and Abigail get into a passing boat, and anyone else who can’t fight.”
Harry ignored the rude remark that came from Margaret about her fighting ability. He just shouted, “You’re too weak, so shut up!”
Then he turned to find Brisa advancing on him. Before she could say anything, he pointed his finger. “And you’re getting off, too. I don’t have time to argue!”
She stopped, blinked a minute, then threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. With a deep kiss, she jumped atop the cabin and moved to where a boat was pulling alongside. “I love you, stupid. Don’t get yourself killed!” She leaped easily across the few feet of water between, landing on the deck.
“I love you, too,” Harry said.
He pulled his sword and went to the rear of the boat. He saw Abigail and Margaret on the next boat that passed, and then heard shouts from the tenth boat in line. The message was relayed and Marcus said, “They’re shooting at the last boat.”
Calis climbed up to the cabin roof and said, “No longbows.”
Marcus climbed up on the cabin of his boat as more boats passed them, the rowers pulling furiously on the oars. The two bowmen pulled as one and let fly, and two men in the pursuing boats fell. Instantly the rowers in the longboats backed water and Harry laughed. Calis said, “That should discourage them for a while.” He patted his quiver. “If they don’t figure out we’re running low on arrows,” he added softly.
From ahead someone shouted, “The ship!” Harry turned and felt relief flooding through him as the ship came into view. It was reefing in sails and turning into the wind, so it would slow enough for those on the boats to board. Harry said, “We’re going to have to keep those men behind us off our necks while we unload cargo.”
Tuka said, “Sab, what about us?”
Harry said, “We’ll worry about saving your lives, then we’ll find a way to get you ashore.”
Tuka nodded, but it was clear the loss of his promised ten boats to lead on a caravan and the profits to be made was weighing heavily on the little man’s mind. Harry noticed and said, “Not to worry. We’ll make it worth your while. You’ll still be paid to get the Ranjana upriver to her father.”
Tuka tried to brighten at that news, but it was clear he was not convinced.
The first boat reached the side of the ship and a cargo net was lowered. The mercenaries and boatmen opened the covers of the small cabins that covered the holds, and threw them into the water. They frantically loaded the supplies they would need for the long voyage home and, when the boat was empty, climbed lines up to the ship. Harry called out, “Some of you, wait for the second boat and give them a hand!”
A pair of boatmen who were about to climb away hung from the ropes as the first boat at the ship was pushed away by the second, then lowered themselves to the deck to help unload that boat.
The pursuing longboats hovered awhile, then one turned and retreated. “Are they leaving?” Harry asked.
“No,” answered Calis. “I don’t think so. I think they’re going for reinforcements.”
The boats moved into place, and with the additional hands on deck, the unloading went quickly. Up on the deck, Nicholas watched with concern as what had occurred was relayed to him by those coming aboard. Pickens had told him they could be under way within minutes of the order being given, but it would take them a while to get out of the harbor mouth.
Then Nicholas saw Margaret and Abigail climb aboard, helping two of the weaker prisoners get over the rail. He hurried to give them a hand, then helped the girls climb over the rail. Both gave him a warm greeting, but Abigail turned away and looked down to the boats below, asking, “Marcus? Will he be all right?”
Nicholas felt a mixture of jealousy and relief; then both emotions were pushed aside as a voice from above called out, “Captain! Ship weighing anchor!”
“Where away?” he called.
“Off the stern to port!”
Nicholas climbed up to the quarterdeck, hurrying to the stern. There he saw a ship unfurling sail in the moonlight. To Pickens he said, “How long?”
“She’ll be under way in ten minutes, longest. She’ll be on us in twice that time.”
Nicholas shouted, “How many boats left?”
“Two,” came the answer.
He hurried to the side of the ship where sailors and mercenaries frantically hurried to clear the cargo net, so it could be lowered to the next-to-last boat. He went to the rail and shouted, “Harry!”
“What?” came the answer.
“Who’s got the
gold?”
“It’s here, with me!”
“Bring it, then get off. Abandon the rest of the cargo. Get everyone aboard. We’re leaving.”
A protesting voice informed Nicholas that the Ranjana was aboard and she said, “Captain! My things are on that boat.”
Nicholas said, “We’ll buy you some new things, if we live long enough.” Looking at Margaret and Brisa, he said, “I know I can count on you two. Margaret, this is Brisa; Brisa, Margaret. Would the two of you get the Ranjana off the deck and into the cabin to the port side of Amos’s?”
They took the Ranjana and her four maids in tow, and soon Harry, Calis, and Marcus were scrambling aboard and the heavy chest of Shingazi’s gold was being raised. Nakor and Anthony were among the last aboard, and Nicholas shouted, “Mr. Pickens! Get us out of here!”
Orders were passed and Nicholas glanced around. The sailors and soldiers from Crydee who had been pressed into sea duty were running to follow Pickens’s orders. The mercenaries that Praji had hired stood to one side, while the boatmen Tuka had employed huddled near the main hatch. Nicholas said, “Just keep out of the way,” to the boatmen, then said to Praji, “Your men may have a real fight yet.”
Some of them muttered, but Nicholas said, “That’s what you’re paid to do!” He turned and hurried to the quarterdeck.
Climbing to the latter, he shouted, “Mr. Pickens, are we going to make it?”
“It’s going to be close,” said the sailor. He glanced behind him, then turned with a grin. “But we’re going to leave them in our wake.”
Nicholas climbed back down to the main deck, turned to say something to the others, then collapsed in a heap.
—
NICHOLAS ROUSED IN the first mate’s cabin. Sun poured in through the porthole, so he knew he had slept well past dawn. He attempted to move and found his side hot and stiff. Examining himself, Nicholas saw someone had put a fresh bandage with a poultice on his side, and put him to bed.
He pulled on his trousers and opened the sea chest at the foot of the bed. The former occupant of the cabin had only a black tunic, so he put that on, finding it a fair fit. Pulling on his boots, Nicholas moved stiffly to the door and opened it.
Before going on deck, he opened the door to the captain’s cabin and crossed to the single bunk where Amos lay. His breathing was deeper but his color was still bad. Nicholas stood watching him a moment, then turned and left him alone.
Reaching the main deck, Nicholas found several knots of men standing around, while others slept upon the deck as best they could. Marcus, Anthony, Harry, and Ghuda stood near the ladder up to the quarterdeck, while Praji and Vaja stood on the other side of the main deck, talking with the other mercenaries.
Moving to Marcus’s side, he asked, “What’s going on?”
Harry said, “We’ve got a couple of problems.”
“Such as?” said Nicholas.
Ghuda looked around. “Well, Calis is up on the quarterdeck behind us, just in case Praji and his friends get more emphatic about being put ashore.”
Nicholas glanced around, then took his bearings. “When did we clear the peninsula?”
“Yesterday, a little before sundown.”
“How long have I been sleeping?” asked Nicholas.
“We left the City of the Serpent River the night before last. It’s a little past noon,” replied Marcus.
Harry said, “Your wound was worse than you thought. Anthony treated it and put you to bed. Five minutes later, the trouble started.”
“Give me the short version,” said Nicholas, watching the mercenaries.
“It was the boatmen started it,” said Ghuda. “They wailed like fishwives about leaving their families and not being paid to cross the sea.”
“Why didn’t you heave to and put them over the side after we were clear of the harbor?”
Marcus made an exasperated motion. “I wanted to, but Anthony and Calis both insisted that Pickens keep on after that other ship.”
“Then the mercenaries began grumbling,” added Ghuda, “claiming you’re abducting them. Things got testy last night after we broke out some wine. Thought it might relax things, but instead it got everyone sore as a boil.”
Nicholas said, “Let me see what I can do.”
He climbed to the quarterdeck and found Calis leaning on his bow. “Why didn’t you let the boatmen and mercenaries ashore?”
Calis said, “I think I’d better stay here in case Praji’s friends get more irritated. Anthony is down below in the crew’s quarters. He can explain it better than I can, anyway.”
Nicholas asked, “Praji?”
“He’s all right. I think his friends would have been a lot more trouble if he hadn’t cautioned them to be patient.” Calis smiled. “I think he considers you a pretty decent captain and is waiting to see what you say.”
Nicholas walked down the ladder and moved to where Praji stood. “Captain,” said the mercenary by way of greeting.
“I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll give you my word; those of you who want to go ashore will be put out in a boat before sundown—with a bonus for your troubles.”
Instantly the men in the circle relaxed, and Nicholas turned and motioned for Calis to join them. Looking behind the elfling, he saw a haggard first mate on the deck. “Mr. Pickens!” he called.
“Aye, sir!”
“Have you been on watch the entire day and a half?”
“Aye, sir!” came the response.
“Go below and get some sleep. Pick a man to watch our course. I’ll be below for a while.”
“Aye, sir,” he said with some relief.
“Harry!” Nicholas called.
“Yes, Nicholas?”
“Get up on the quarterdeck and make sure we don’t run aground. You’re now second mate.”
With a rueful smile, he said, “Aye, Captain.”
Nicholas motioned for Marcus and Ghuda to join them, and they went down the companionway to the crews’ quarters. Anthony was there ministering to the prisoners, who were sleeping in the bunks, or softly talking among themselves; Abigail and Margaret were helping him.
“How is everyone?” Nicholas asked.
Anthony said, “You’re awake!”
Nicholas was about to make a quip about this obvious remark, until he saw Anthony’s eyes. They were sunk in black circles, and his cheeks were hollow. “When did you last sleep?”
Anthony shrugged. “A day or so before we left. I don’t remember. There’s so much to do.”
Margaret said, “I’ve told him to get some rest, but he ignores me.” Her expression was an equal mixture of irritation and admiration.
“How are the prisoners?”
“They’re all fine,” said Anthony. “The worst is over as long as they rest and eat. We got most of the provisions on board, but we will have to watch our rations.”
“How is Amos?” asked Nicholas, lowering his voice.
“Bad,” said Anthony. “I’ve done all I could; the bleeding was heavy and the wound is deep. But he’s strong for a man his age, and the scars on his body show this isn’t the first time he’s survived a near death blow. If he wakes up in the next day or two, I think he’ll pull through.
“But if he does, he’s going to be in no condition to captain this ship home; it’s your job for at least another month, Nicholas.”
Nicholas nodded. “What is the reason you didn’t put the mercenaries and boatmen ashore?”
Anthony and Calis exchanged glances, then Anthony said, “I don’t know where to begin.” He looked at the end of his wits, so Nicholas gave him time to compose his answer. “We can’t let the other ship get too far ahead. I didn’t want to risk slowing down to let down a boat.”
Something in his tone suggested grave concerns. Nicholas said, “Go on.”
“It’s worse than anything we thought, Nicholas,” said the young magician. “Nakor has told me some things I don’t think you know I know.” He glanced at Marcus who no
dded. “I don’t know all of it—there’s something the royal family is privy to, and that’s all right—but what I do know frightens me more than anything I can imagine.
“The Pantathians have created a plague. It’s worse than any illness I’ve seen.”
“Why?”
“There’s no cure for it,” he said harshly. “They’ve used magics of the blackest kind to fashion this thing. Those creatures of theirs were created to carry it to the Kingdom.”
Nicholas closed his eyes. “It…makes an evil sense. They’re a death cult and would gladly die to…further their cause.”
Anthony continued. “I don’t know how the illness works. I’ve seen some of their failures. It’s horrible.”
“And you know it can’t be cured?”
“Nakor thinks so, and he knows more about magic”—he smiled weakly—“or tricks, than I do. Maybe Pug, or some of the more practiced priests of Dala or Kilian, or the Ishapians…I don’t know. But I don’t think we’d have time.”
“Why?”
“A…hunch. I think the disease progresses rapidly. From what I could see, those who died succumbed rapidly. The condition of the outer skin—what looks like human skin over their own true skin—and the other damage done by the illness don’t lead me to think anyone could live for more than a few days once the sickness takes hold. I have no idea how it’s spread; Nakor is with the creatures, seeing what he can learn of them.”
“Is he safe?” asked Nicholas with alarm.
“As much as anyone could be,” answered Anthony.
“Where are they?”
“In the cargo hold. We can get there through that passage,” said Anthony, pointing to a small door in the forward bulkhead.
Nicholas moved to the door and opened it, finding a short passage to another door. He moved through it and opened the second door. From the rear he heard Anthony caution the others to stay behind.
Nicholas found himself standing on the second cargo deck, with the grillwork of the main hatch above admitting light. The lowest deck in the hold had been converted to a barracks of sorts. A large open hatch looked down on it. Nicholas noticed that most of the supplies brought aboard from the riverboats had been stored on this deck. “Where’s the rest of our cargo?” he asked.
The King's Buccaneer Page 53