“What’s on your mind, Gom?”
“It’s this, sir.” The chef held out a dish of stew.
“Smells good.”
“It’s swill. How do you expect me to cook anything worth eating when you give me ingredients like this?”
“That’s what’s available, Gomeneg. Are you gonna keep waving that around, or are you gonna be reasonable and let me eat it?”
“I am being reasonable, sir.” Gomeneg finally put the dish down on the table. Sako produced a spoon and began to eat.
“There is no butter, no milk; there are no eggs…this I expect—no cows and no chickens here. But must every scrap of meat be so salty? And vegetables! Surely others exist besides onions, potatoes and carrots! I spend an hour per day picking weevils,” he shuddered, “out of the flour! And the only spice aboard is pepper!”
“I like pepper.”
“Well enjoy it, because the last we had went into that stew!”
“What would you like me to do, Ster Chef?”
“To begin, I need more utensils: more pots, more pans, more bowls. I’d like to buy some vegetables myself and I have a list of spices I’ll need—”
“Hold on, Gomeneg. Do you realize what that will cost?”
“I spoke to Ellor before I came to you,” Gomeneg said defensively. “He said that the cost of provisions is accounted for in the general fund. I cannot provide you and your crew with decent meals on what we have. I would like to take over the duty of purchasing food and drink for the ship.”
“Fine. Next time we’re near a market, you can buy whatever you think you need.”
“You’re placating me, sir.”
Sako sighed and put down his spoon. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Life at sea is hard, Gom, and the food is hard to eat. It has to travel and it has to last, so what’s bought is what will stay edible. We supplement when and where we can—that’s why we’ve been visiting some of the islands here, in the Chains. Fresh fruit and meat that isn’t salted is welcome but unusual. Fish are easier. But milk and cheese and butter go bad very quickly at sea, most vegetables rot, and the vermin get into everything. Most of what we get is from other ships and they usually don’t spend a lot of money on food.
“When we raid Stafa, we’ll hit a few of the mansions. You can come along and take what you need from their kitchens and pantries.”
“You mean steal? I can’t do that!”
“You won’t be stealing—we’ll steal. But only what you pick out. Satisfactory?”
“Yes, sir. I suppose I could live with that.”
“Good. Anything else bothering you?”
“Well…Must I sleep next to Afnir? He’s a good chap, but he snores abominably.”
“Sleep wherever you’d like to, Gom.”
“Thank you for your time, Captain.” Gomeneg turned to go.
“By the way,” Sako said. “What you’ve been doing in the galley is far better than anything we ever did for ourselves, you know. We’re very pleased that you chose to stay aboard.”
The chef perked up. “Thank you very much, sir. Wait until I have real food and utensils! After Stafa you’ll taste what I can do with dinner.”
“I’m looking forward to that, Gom.”
Soon they raised the Clavvish coast. The Smilers kept their distance and followed the coastline north. Stafa had a lighthouse and Sako hoped to find it after nightfall. Any ship approaching Stafa in daylight was viewed with suspicion, and the Agresians kept at least one warship at hand.
One of the new hands, Jikver Eleren, was the only man among them to have visited Stafa. He had sailed on a Northern Trading Company ship, and told Sako that Company ships usually arrived on a set schedule, and flew special pennants.
“So there’s a stout fort and at least one warship,” said Dason. “Even attacking by night is going to be tricky. I wonder if we’re daring too much.”
“There’s no stockade on the landward side,” said Jikver. “Not even so much as a fence. The Company trades with the local tribe a little. The Clavs have never attacked the colony so there’s no defenses.”
“What do the locals look like?” asked Brog.
“Well, they look like…Clavs, I guess. But with stripes on their faces. Sometimes up and down, sometimes side to side.”
“The Vax,” Brog said with awe. “My Ta told me of them. Fierce warriors who ride elephants into battle. Even the Ixen, the Takers, fear them.”
“Think they’ll let us move freely through their territory?” Sako asked.
“I don’t know. Ta said they don’t pay much attention to the other tribes because they have nothing to fear from them. I should be able to explain that we’re not there to harm them.”
“Let’s just hope they don’t have the plague too,” said Finve.
“It’s probably run its course by now,” said Thard. “These diseases are quick to arrive and quick to disappear. But pestilence in Clavland usually affects only Buxans or only Clavs. There’s a theory that each continent breeds different diseases—”
“Bottom line is we’re not likely to get sick from the Vax,” said Ellor. “Sorry Thard. I love you like a brother but sometimes your explanations get tedious.”
“Tedious,” Thard said with a snort. “This from a man who counts beans.”
“I’d rather count beans than the different kinds of sicknesses beans can get.” That brought a general laugh and Thard finally smiled.
“You win, Ellor.”
“I usually do.”
Armed with Jikver’s information, Sako headed for a little cove a few miles south of Stafa. The charts they’d taken from the Tama showed that they could safely anchor and disembark there.
The cove turned out to be little more than a beach, with little protection and no concealment. The Smilers were going to have to leave a larger deck watch than they’d planned. Dason decided that they’d need to leave at least a dozen behind, not counting Perndil and Ellor.
Clenchjaw volunteered to take charge, with the stipulation that he’d still receive his full normal share. Sako agreed and soon had his dozen, which included Drac and Aler. The shore party was thirty-six fighting men, and Gomeneg.
The sailors of enterprise set off through the thick jungle, armed to the teeth and carrying empty sacks. There was no trail to follow, but there were plenty of biting insects. The men’s curses could barely be heard for the birdsong.
“There must be a million birds, but I can’t see a single one,” said Thard with wonder.
It didn’t take long for the seamen to begin feeling claustrophobic. The whole world was green. Every shade of green imaginable was represented in this jungle. The sky was invisible, and line of sight was less than two fathoms.
Even the former highwaymen, Uren and Widzen Red were feeling closed in. After several hundred yards they burst into a cleared space. It was a road.
“Whose road?” Buck asked. “Vax or the Company?” Brog pointed at the wagon ruts.
“I don’t think the Vax use wagons.”
“Probably to one of the mines,” Buck said.
“How could you possibly know that?” Finve asked scornfully.
“Hunters don’t use wagons either. Look! See how deep the ruts are? Must be heavy wagons.”
“There might be farms up that road instead,” said Chos.
“Yeah,” said Finve.
“Doesn’t matter what’s that way,” said Dason with a smile. “What we’re looking for is this way. We need to mark this spot so we know when to turn off towards the ship, or else we might just find out what’s up there. Maybe another fort!”
“Tie a strip of red cloth around that tree,” said Fishbait. He was a former poacher who’d been captured while trying to escape across a river. He couldn’t swim, and the baron’s men had called him ‘Fishbait’. The name had stuck.
“Won’t the Agresians see it, too?” asked Dason.
“Not if we take it with us when we go,” said Fishbait. “I could mark a path almost invis
ibly, but what if it’s dark or we’re in a hurry? Even a sailor can spot a red cloth what don’t belong there.” The cloth was tied and the men turned toward Stafa. It was much easier walking on the road. Even the sky appeared now and then.
A few hours later they were hot, hungry and thirsty. No one had thought to bring any food. Fishbait and the Red brothers left the road to search for water. They found a stream and Sako called a halt. They had seen no one else for hours. Soon they were walking again, and much less enthusiastic about it.
Much later, the trees and brush began to thin. There were less birds and the sky became more visible than before. Sako called a halt and ordered everyone off the road. Balgo was sent scrambling up a tree to see how close they were to the town.
Once aloft, Balgo could clearly see Stafa and some of its residents. There was a large bonfire in the central square. Several townspeople and a few soldiers stood around it, dressed for mourning and looking unhappy. As Balgo watched, two soldiers walked out of his view, blocked by the roof of the nearest house.
They returned carrying a blanket-wrapped body, which they conveyed to the best-dressed man present. He lifted a corner of the blanket to see the face of the corpse, looked up and said a few words to the watchers. When he finished, the soldiers bowed their heads and tossed the body into the flames. More black smoke roiled off, carried inland by the breeze. Balgo was glad the wind was crosswise from his position.
Next to the man who must have been the colonial governor stood a man dressed in the full uniform of a Northern Trading Company captain, and behind them stood one in naval regalia. Balgo checked the waterfront and noted a Company runner tied at the wharf and a frigate moored further out.
There was a fort at the northern end of the waterfront and a lighthouse at the southern end. The landward side of the fort had an open door with a sentry, and there were two more guards visible on the walls. Two warehouses, four mansions and a few dozen humbler residences were visible from Balgo’s viewpoint.
Balgo’s stomach was not surprised to see that the sun nearly touched the treetops to the west. He scampered back down the tree and reported.
“How far to the town and how much farther to the fort?” asked Afnir.
“About a hundred yards to the first house. Maybe another hundred to their fort.”
“We could charge in and take that fort before an alarm can be raised!”
“Why?” said Chos with a scowl. “So we can have a pitched battle with those two ships?”
“There won’t be a battle if we take those two captains and the mayor hostage!” Afnir’s enthusiasm grew as he spoke. “Then they’ll just bring us what we want without a fight!”
Several of the hands thought that an excellent idea, but Dason did not, “You propose to go into the fort that still has half the garrison inside, with hostages? And you think there won’t be a fight? Even if it works, how then do you then propose to get the loot back to the Horizon?”
Afnir bristled. It wasn’t that long ago that he was captain of this Crew. “You got a better idea?”
“Keep your voices down,” Sako said. “The next man that speaks had better do it quietly and have a reasonable alternative.”
“I do.” All eyes turned to Sev Bando. He hadn’t spoken much since his brother had died, and rarely put himself forward. Sako knew that Sev was a lot brighter than he let on.
“Go on.”
“Let’s wait until dark. Then we walk in like we belong here. We take and loot the first mansion we find, quietly. Then we try and score a wagon team, ride up to the warehouses, load up and leave with nobody the wiser. We don’t fight or shout or anything unless we’re caught at it.”
Quite a few of the men liked this plan better, but many still favored Afnir’s. Sako called for a vote.
“Show of hands for Afnir’s plan.” Dason counted quickly.
“Seventeen.”
“And for Sev’s?” Sako prompted.
“…Sixteen…seventeen…eighteen.”
Sako shook his head. “Sorry Gomeneg. Only Crew can vote.” The chef let his hand drop.
“Seventeen,” said Dason.
“Looks like you’re the tiebreaker,” Sako told him.
“I’m waiting to see what’s going on inside of your head.”
“Okay, then. Afnir’s plan gives us plenty of loot and a big fight with no escape. Sev’s plan gets us plenty of loot too, but we may have to do a fighting retreat all the way to the Horizon. What we need is some way to get as much as we can while giving the Agresians a reason to stay here so they won’t chase us. Here’s what I propose…”
Once every man knew his part, Sako had them recite it again in sequence. When he was sure they had it, he let them settle down to sleep or rest until nightfall. Smoking was forbidden, so they shared out the quid. Insect noises slowly replaced the birdsong as the daylight faded.
Balgo went back up the tree for a last look. “Bonfire’s still burning but no one’s outside. Door to the fort’s still open; same guard. The closest mansion shows no lights and there’s no change on the waterfront.”
“Good. It’s time.” The Smilers moved quietly down the road to the edge of town and halted. Balgo pointed out the house he’d seen and Spogan Orange, a former burglar, moved forward and disappeared into the darkness.
He returned shortly with his shirt wrapped around his hand. “Nobody home,” was all he said. They filed in through the back door without incident.
A single pane of glass was broken near the door latch—now Sako understood why Spogan had wrapped his hand. There hadn’t been a sound. Guards were posted at the doors and two men with muskets were sent to upper floor windows.
Gomeneg and Finve went to the kitchen while everyone else searched the house.
“Don’t break anything,” Sako reminded them. Artwork, plates and candlesticks were piled by the back door. A chest under the desk in the study contained coin; another in the master bedchamber held more. Dason collected books from the library—they could always be sold after they’d been read, but he was thinking of Ellor. They emptied the wine cellar and Kostek found a jewelry box.
When the men had everything they wanted, Kostek and Tirpa left for the waterfront. Five men under Fishbait went looking for a wagon. They returned with two, each pulled by a pair of horses. Sako and the others loaded the swag into the first wagon and Afnir left. Olik, Ieskott and Sharkbite went with him.
Once the goods were loaded, everyone piled into the wagons and lay down like corpses except Gomeneg and the two musketeers. Sako climbed up to sit next to Fishbait in the lead wagon and they drove to the warehouses.
Sako glanced in passing at the fort. The guard was gone now, but Sharkbite wore his uniform jacket and carried his musket. The wagons halted behind the warehouses and the Smilers went in. Sako stayed outside with Fishbait and Uren Red, who had driven the second wagon. The bonfire was smaller now. Only half of the houses showed light. Sako divided his attention equally between the fort and the ships.
A great, noiseless light appeared suddenly, but it was only the beacon for the lighthouse. Sako’s heart pounded. The lighthouse was a marker for the rocks at the southern end of the bay. According to Sako’s charts, the current here tended toward those rocks.
The wagons were filling up with crates of amber and elephant tusks. Bales of fur were being loaded as well, but Sako ignored the riches and kept watching the ships.
Finally Sako saw what he’d been looking for. First the frigate, then the runner began moving slowly toward the lighthouse. Tirpa and Kostek should be swimming for shore now, their mission accomplished.
It didn’t take very long for the naval sailors to realize that all was not well. It did, however, take several moments for the officer on deck to figure out what was wrong. By the time he’d rung the bell and sounded an alarm, the frigate was nearly on the rocks.
The runner was within yards of the other ship before its deck watch caught on. Sailors swarmed into the rigging on both ships, and th
eir cries drew the attention of the guards on the wall of the fort. The tavern door opened and several patrons spilled out as well.
There was a horrible crunching noise as the frigate went aground, followed shortly by another as the runner collided with the frigate. A few men dropped screaming from the yardarms, but sails were blossoming. Both ships would regain control soon.
Chos, Sev and Widzen grunted as they lifted an enormous tusk into the second wagon with Uren’s help. Instead of going back in, they headed for a nearby barn.
“Need another wagon,” Chos said to Sako over his shoulder.
Sako nodded and turned his attention back to the ships. The frigate was in trouble, and started listing to starboard. The runner was in better shape, but her bowsprit was jammed deep into the main shrouds of the frigate. Arguments flared between the two crews as they tried to separate the ships.
Chos returned with a small, one horse wagon. The Smilers stopped trying to pile more on the first two wagons and swiftly filled the third. The activity finally attracted the attention of one of the men by the tavern.
“WHO’S THERE AT THE WAREHOUSE?”
Everyone was looking at Sako and the wagons. Sharkbite called urgently into the fort as the rest of the people in the tavern exited. More men came out of their houses. Some people started toward the wagons, others ran off in various directions, and some headed for the fort. They stopped, confused, when Sharkbite leveled his musket at them. A bell began to ring somewhere.
“Let’s go!” Sako said. “Time to sail!” His men hurried out of the warehouse with their burdens.
A huge explosion rocked the town and a fireball appeared in the middle of the fort. The soldiers on the walls were thrown from their feet, as were some of the men by the tavern. Afnir’s mission was complete.
“LET’S GO, LET’S GO!” The wagons jolted as the horses lunged. There was a bloodcurdling scream as the portside aft wheel of Sako’s wagon rolled over Sturo’s foot. Two men grabbed him and slung him into the wagon.
Ieskott and Olik came out of the fort, carrying a bloody-faced Afnir between them. Sharkbite fired into the crowd facing them. One man fell and the rest scattered. Afnir’s party ran after the wagons. A few citizens tried to stop the wagons, but they were unarmed and were quickly dispatched.
Buxacan Spicerunner Page 21