“That’s what this life is, Hounds. Never about what you know but who you know. And who their friends are.”
“And who do you know in Vice, Skipper?” Hounds asked.
“I know someone owes us for what’s left of this hoarfrost.” Nel cast a glance over the ramps running from the cargo hold to the docks. Had to admire Vice’s efficiency. When they’d signalled that they were on an ice run, they’d immediately been directed to a berth with a lowered pier to accommodate their unloading. A running team was already waiting with a counterweighted platform and ice wagons. Once it was loaded onto the wagons it was weighed and no longer their problem, but it was that final weight that determined their payment.
“How much do you think we brought in?” Hounds interrupted her thoughts, watching as the crew worked to hoist the cargo out of the hold. There was nothing like a shifting amount of coin to motivate them all. Any bonuses on the run would come directly from a profitable run and their profits were literally melting away before their eyes.
“Several hundred tons, maybe two thirds of what we left with.” Nel made a face. “Lost more than I’d like but it could have been worse.”
“Long tons or short tons?”
Nel gave her newest mate a withering look.
“Fine, fine, forget I asked,” Hounds grinned. “Gave up my second favourite shirt to rag-stop the leak, literally gave up the clothes on my back. Just hoping to see some coin I can bite sometime soon.”
“You will.”
“All I need to hear, Skipper.”
“What about you, Hounds?” Nel fired back. “Anyone you’re going to look up while we’re in town?”
“Thought I’d swing by the bazaar, check out the local skin painters. Used to know a few good ones here, and you can’t leave Vice without some new work. What about you, Skipper, going to collect your piece?”
Nel rubbed at her sleeved right arm self-consciously. Her latest piece still itched, just barely healed over. Her old bosun’s tattoo, an anchor crossed, but crossed now with a dagger stained red. A memento to an old friend.
“No.”
“You’ve already got the one,” Hounds shrugged. “If you’ve a mind, there’s a tea shop I plan to visit. Beats the black out of the six water.”
Nel scowled. Another reminder she didn’t need.
“Never figured you for a tea sipper, Hounds. Haven’t seen you touch a cup all run.”
“Brewed a pot my first watch,” Hounds said. “Was struggling to settle in. Borrowed this pretty little kettle off Gabbi. Did wonders for the brew, but just the once. Could never find the thing after that. Second time I went to make some I couldn’t find the thing. Can’t be the only one who likes tea though. The only other kettle was stained blood red from some fool steeping black too long. Had glass splinters all through it too, cut my mouth something awful.”
Nel stared at her. “Never knew tea to be so dangerous. I’ll pass on your tea house and stick with tradition.”
“Not dangerous if you remember to warm the kettle,” Hounds said. “That damned ice run, like being halfway up a mountain. I’ve suffered because of it, Vaughn, believe me.”
“If I wasn’t hearing it from you I never would have, Hounds, not in a year of runs. And how the hells does black teas turn red?”
“Black teas are red, Vaughn.”
“Hells.”
“Won the reddest black tea you ever did see off your Kelpie mate, too. Haven’t dared try it this run, for reasons what I said. Ice and all.”
“Quill lost a bet to you?” Nel asked. She knew the Kelpie drank tea. It was as close to a vice as ever he got.
“Lost a handful,” Hounds winked. “Kept trying to win a peek at Mantid’s private stash of charts and squiggly maps. Never seemed to occur to him to just ask so kindly. Couldn’t bring himself to do it, I suppose. Ha, fellow was such a lousy card player and worse with dice that I weren’t going to suggest it either. Took him for rations for a week before we settled on the tea. Didn’t sleep so well but waking up didn’t hurt so much.”
“Starting to worry about you, Hounds,” Nel said.
“Why’s that?” the woman grinned at her.
“You found something in common with Quill, that’s why. You just made my blood run colder than all that ice we’re unloading.”
Hounds laughed. “Getting wet down there.” She pointed to where Jack, Mantid, and a handful of sailors were focused on pulling ice up from down below. They were using the crane and close woven nets to hoist it up in uneven loads. Jack and another sailor were using tongs to move the blocks onto the ramp that led down onto the dock, where the ice wagons were backed up. As fast as they worked there was still water collecting on the deck, mostly from shavings chipped off the blocks as they were grabbed.
Jack leaned forward on his tongs, saying something to Mantid. Nel was too far away to it make out. Mantid shuffled his feet until he was facing Jack, forelimbs tucked in against his chest and head tilted. The last block floated up from the net hung in the air between them.
“Looks like trouble,” Hounds commented.
“Too early for trouble.” Nel turned away. “Go sort it out, tell Jack to get his backside up into the rigging if he can’t stay civil on the line.”
“Smart coin is on Mantid if your fellow starts anything.”
“Jack ain’t my fellow,” Nel dismissed the idea. “Ain’t anyone’s fellow, not even the captain’s. Hells, maybe Gabbi’s, but only because she feeds him.”
“Done time, hasn’t he?”
“Done that and more, I imagine. I don’t ask, for the most part.”
“So you’re not asking me to go settle it then?”
“No, that I’m telling. So move.”
“Throw me under the keel, sure, why not,” Hounds grimaced. “And where will you be while I’m risking life and limb collaring your rogue Korrigan?”
“Getting coffee. Fingers are fair frozen and you’ve put me off tea.”
Chapter 12
THERE WAS SCREAMING from the docks.
Much of the screaming came from Bandit as he pursued a birdlike creature, trying to corner it near the slip. A mouthful of feathers suggested Bandit was having the better of the ordeal but his prey was proving a difficult quarry. The rest of the noise was provided by Violet as she tried to rein in their errant mascot.
“What is that thing?” Nel leaned on the railing, coffee clasped between both hands. She still craved warmth. Felt like her skin was sweating coffee of late but at least she could move her fingers. The Vice dock was a far warmer environment than the Tantamount’s self-contained envelope. The sooner they transferred their cargo the better, particularly since they were paid by the pound. But until she could hand over at least she had this show.
“I think it’s a bat,” Gabbi suggested, squinting as Bandit and prey scaled a mooring pole, climbing it in a spiral motion.
“Got feathers,” Nel argued. “Makes it a bird.”
“Some lizards got feathers, don’t make them birds,” Gabbi said. “Look at how it flies. Bat-like.”
Nel grunted as the bird-bat jumped from the top of the pole, gliding down on outstretched leathery wings and leaving Bandit seething with rage atop. Maybe it isn’t a bird, she thought as Bandit made the awkward reverse climb. He couldn’t go straight down headfirst so the loompa was forced into a jerky drop and grab sequence.
The bird creature wasn’t any more elegant, squawking back at Bandit from below. It was of a size with him, wings, feathers, and a beak. A long, tapered tail that dragged behind it as it waddled on the ground. It had all the ingredients of a bird but it didn’t take flight like one.
It could make short hops though, powerful feet launching it off the ground before gliding back. Actually not even gliding, Nel conceded, just an awful lot of wing beating to try and shift its weight out of the way. It seemed to need height and currents to move through the air.
It easily avoided Violet as the girl lunged for it, leaving her spitting du
st and clutching a stray feather on the ground. There was a round of laughter from the rigging. Half the crew was watching. Free entertainment—Nel wasn’t about to call them on it.
It was Violet’s third attempt to restrain one of the combatants. She’d stopped trying to catch Bandit after the first two. Bandit hadn’t given up though, diving from halfway down the pole onto the bird.
“Jack,” she called out to the Korrigan up on the yards. “What is that thing?”
“Dinner!” he yelled back to the roar of approval from his shipmates.
“Jack!” Gabbi hollered at him. “Name!”
“Yiqi,” Jack grinned down at them.
“Want to bet that’s just Korrigan for dinner?” Nel muttered.
“Don’t know about that but I’ll bet half my ration it’s not going to be dinner.” Hounds joined them at the railing. Even the off watchers were coming to join the show. Fur and feathers were both flying now as the two scrapped in a ball, rolling back and forth. Violet stood by helplessly, hands half outstretched but the girl knew better. At least Nel hoped she did. Any more injuries and she’d start docking the girl’s pay.
Of course, then I’d have to start paying her more than room and board . . .
“Not for me,” Nel shook her head.
“You’re mad,” Gabbi said. “Best ratter the ship’s had. It’s all over.”
“That ain’t no rat,” Hounds told her.
“You’re on,” Gabbi held out her hand. “Half the next ration says I don’t have to feed Bandit for a week.”
“You’re wasting food on that ratter?” Nel muttered. “The ship’s best ratter?”
“Done,” Hounds said loudly as they shook on it. She started to cheer, her cries taken up by the rest of the crew. Half of them probably had stakes wagered as well. Grog if not coin. Nel saw Gabbi look up to where Jack stood aloft. Both quietly confident.
“Bandit!” Violet was yelling and stamping her feet. “Leave it alone!”
Nothing the Kitsune girl did had any effect on the loompa or yiqi scrap. The two animals rolled atop one another, batting and flailing to the best of their ability. Bandit bit with his feral teeth and the yiqi stabbed back violently with sharp talons. There were specks of blood flying but nothing that looked too serious.
Something occurred to Nel at nearly the same time the answer presented itself. The yiqi must have an owner. It clearly wasn’t wild and was making a minimal effort to escape now. It had figured out Bandit wasn’t big enough to pose a serious threat, and now it looked more of a dispute over territory. The question on Nel’s mind became; where were its owners?
Kelpies. It had to be Kelpies.
A whole clutch of them. Clutch? Is that right? What else would it be—a pack, a swarm? There’s three, maybe not a whole clutch. Half a clutch?
Three Kelpies. Two were the stock green and stoop shoulder variety, not so different from Quill. The third was more unusual, something Nel hadn’t seen before.
It was bearded. Not bearded the way most of the crew were a week after leaving port, but bearded in a more alarming way, face and upper body covered in rows and clusters of spiny scales. It made for an intimidating display, probably the purpose, and it was this one that stepped forward, barking out commands that Nel couldn’t make out.
His words had no more effect than Violet’s had. The platter of salted fish dropped on the two did cause them to break apart in alarm. There were no more flying fish to arrive but Nel could hear something behind her. She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment.
“Hells,” she muttered.
“Skipper,” Gabbi whispered hoarsely. “What’s the damned Kelpie doing now?”
There Quill went, striding past the crew. He didn’t have to push his way through; they moved to let him pass.
“What is he doing?” Hounds asked angrily. “I’ve got coin on this.”
“We bet grog, not coin,” Gabbi said quickly.
“Same damned difference.” Hounds leaned out over the railing to see past her. “What is he doing?”
Quill marched down the gangway, onto the docks, and right into the middle of the fracas. For a moment, Nel thought he was going to start something. The three other Kelpies watched him cautiously. It was hard not to recall that Quill’s religious beliefs put him at odds even with his own kind. But for once the Kelpie didn’t poke that particular bear. He barely even slowed, plucking Bandit up by the scruff of his neck and turning around immediately. The loompa hung limp in his grip, feet swaying just above the docks, oddly not fighting the retrieval. Violet stared after them both for a few seconds before following meekly. Behind her, the Kelpies merely watched. They seemed to consider the Tantamount for a while before conferring briefly amongst themselves. One of them retrieved the yiqi, and the group left.
“Damndest thing I ever saw,” Gabbi voiced their collective confusion.
“More importantly,” Hounds said, “I won the bet, right?”
Gabbi sucked in a breath, then immediately launched into a full denial. Nel moved away to meet Quill at the top of the gangway, before she was asked to adjudicate.
“Spoiling the crew’s fun there, Quill,” she told him. Quill held Bandit up between them. Bandit stared back with big eyes, still not struggling.
“Let him down, Quill.” Violet arrived. Her eyes were wide, she was breathing fast but not hard. Exerted but not worn out in the least, just dirty from her missed catches.
Quill looked over his shoulder back at the docks. The other Kelpies had departed, taking their pet with them. Across the ship, the finer points of how this affected the stakes was being discussed. Loudly.
Quill handed Bandit over to Violet. She clasped him in her arms, holding him tight, waiting. Bandit, settled until now, started to squirm.
“What?” Quill growled at her. “Have you nothing better to do with your time?”
Violet left without another word, running for the ratlines. Bandit dislodged himself from her grasp and climbed with her. He could easily have outdistanced her but kept a similar pace.
Strange, not like her to head for the ropes without being told.
Quill was watching her too. “How old is she now?” he asked suddenly, turning to face Nel.
A subject she’d only just discussed with Violet and Nel had to admit she didn’t know either. How long was a Kitsune’s lifespan anyway? Hells, she’d long since given up trying to track her own age relative to all the different Lanes and worlds they traversed.
“Adolescent,” Nel folded her arms. “Since when do you care?”
“When will she be done with this adolescence?”
“Not soon, Kelpie,” Gabbi said. She and Hounds had come up unnoticed, both looking like they wanted a piece of the navigator. “And just as well. She keeps us all young.”
“Good to have a bit of fun around here,” Hounds agreed.
“Did we mention fun, Quill?” Gabbi added. “Of the kind you like to spoil?”
Quill snorted. Only the lash of his tail betrayed his annoyance at being ganged up on by the three.
“How old is Violet?” Nel said in an aside to Gabbi, completely ignoring Quill for now.
“The kind of old that’s not,” Gabbi floundered, pushed off course by the question. “I don’t know, Skipper. The months go by and I’d just as soon not think how they’re piling up. Got no seasons to track them with and I’d sooner not count the grey hairs neither.”
“I figured her for a dozen winters,” Hounds shrugged. “All short and easy ones.”
Nel gave her a pained look. “She’s older than that. I don’t let children on the ship.”
“Can’t be much more, Skipper,” Gabbi said. “My sister was married at fifteen and dropped a sprog not long after.”
“Often the way, isn’t it?” Hounds laughed.
“What is a sprog?” Quill frowned.
“Something I’m praying you never do, Loveland,” Gabbi told him.
Quill only looked confused. “A baby, Mister Kelpie,�
� Hounds told him mercifully. “A wee one. A spawn, a hatchling, if you will. I don’t need to explain the mechanics of this, do I?”
“I do not believe it necessary,” Quill said, oblivious to the barb. He reconsidered then, looking curiously at Gabbi. “Unless . . .”
“What?” Gabbi growled at him, looking murderous.
“When will you be dropping your sprog, cook?”
“Out of my sight, Loveland.”
Quill shrugged, but Nel mentally notched one for the Kelpie. It was a low blow, to be sure, but a point nonetheless.
“Am I to understand none of you have bothered to ascertain the girl’s age? Despite all of the attention you lavish upon her?”
“So ask her, if you’re so damned curious,” Nel told him.
“I will,” Quill said, looking up at the mast. “I grow tired of rescuing her and that diseased vermin.”
Rescuing? That what this is all about? Quill . . .
“I say a dozen,” Hounds said.
“Fifteen,” Gabbi said grumpily. “Fifteen.”
“Done,” Hounds fished a coin from a pocket, flipping it with her thumb. “Vaughn, care to wager with us?”
Nel listened as Quill yelled his inquiry up to the top of the mast. Violet’s tangled mess of hair poked itself out of the nest, Bandit riding her shoulders.
Nel gave her answer before the girl gave hers. The other two stared at her, then realisation slowly dawned. Heads snapped skyward, jaws hanging low.
Just like tree rings. Violet gave Quill her answer in a two-fingered shorthand salute. Facing the wrong way, of course.
The look on Quill’s face was the best part. But the coin Hounds and Gabbi silently handed over wasn’t to be laughed at.
Obvious, when you think about it.
“I AM NOT looking forward to this, Nel,” the captain said. “Not looking forward to it at all.”
Horatio fussed with his coat, brushing dust of the road off and fiddling with the front buttons. Nel sighed, the sigh of long suffering patience even she was sick of making. But she empathized with the captain. This was going to be an unpleasant discussion.
“Perhaps you should go in without me,” Horatio suggested brightly, as if the idea had just occurred to him. “Delegation, a representative of the ship. Trusted representative, our most capable member in fact, a sign of the high esteem in which we hold them.”
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