“What do you want, Quinn?” Nel asked her. Quinn, does the void have a sense of humour here? Bane of my life. Damn, what I wouldn’t give to have the Kelpie here though. Never thought I’d say that.
“Are you really that dense? What do I want? How many meaningful moments have there even been in your pedestrian life since you quit the corps, Chanel? How many do you think the people outside of that creaking pile of timbers are even aware of?”
The woman stood up, revealing a wand slung in a holster over her thigh. The hilt on it was a match to one Nel had once owned, lost into the black months ago now.
“You bore me, sailor,” Aristeia said again, wearily, taunting. “I cannot tell you how much. Nobody cares that you and your captain sail under an assumed name. Nobody weeps for Misery. Honestly no one even cared for what happened at Marching. If there hadn’t been survivors no one would have cared at all. But there was. And so we watched you, for weeks, to see if you’d lead us to them, to those . . . poor lost souls. But no, you carried on with your meaningless, dreary lives. And now . . . now I’m tired of watching.”
Mors laughed, a chilling sound echoed in Aristeia’s smile. “See how the little mouse trembles?” he said of Nel.
“The Fox . . . my captain would watch and wait, he has more patience than either of us,” Aristeia admitted. “But you’re here, I’m here, Mors is here. In fact there’s only one person missing and we could resolve this entire interminable situation.”
Aristeia dropped her hand, resting it loosely over the pommel of her wand. “Scarlett sends her regards.”
Nel drew on her before Aristeia had finished speaking. The woman ducked as Nel’s arm came around, drawing her own weapon. In the background, Nel could see Mors drawing too. Gods below he was fast, he could have cut her down any time since she’d entered the tent. Except they’d wanted to toy with her, had even allowed her to make the first move, knowing she wouldn’t get a second. At best, with a year’s worth of good luck, she might have taken out Aristeia, temporarily. After that it was over for her.
Except she hadn’t been aiming for the woman, tempting as that opening was. Nel went for the tent pole holding up the awning. She heard an undignified squawk of surprise from Mors as he was enveloped in the heavy canvas while she dropped to the ground herself, disappearing from sight as the ceiling hit Aristeia next. Nel dove for the back of the tent, ripping up the peg holding the enclosure to the ground and rolling out into the bazaar. Behind her the shop front was a writhing, outraged mess as Aristeia and Mors fought to extricate themselves.
Nel turned and ran, shouldering aside those who were too slow to get out of her way. Running as fast as she could, one thought filling her mind: get back to the ship first.
“JACK?” VIOLET SAID, realising he was no longer beside her.
Jack had dropped behind, the barrow of supplies forgotten in the middle of the street.
“Jack, what is it?” Violet called. Jack didn’t answer. He lifted his nose and sniffed the air. Then bared his teeth in a snarl.
“Kelpies,” he growled.
“What?” Violet saw them then, half a dozen, emerging from the side streets and shadowed alcoves. All converging on the two of them.
“Who are you people?” She backed up towards Jack, twisting her neck and trying to see them all at once. She heard the rasp of metal on leather as Jack pulled a wicked-looking knife from his belt.
“She is the one,” one to her left pronounced. Their voice was heavily accented, nothing like Quill’s, nor could she tell if the speaker was male or female. Except that it was bearded, the spiked Kelpie. The one that had fallen into the pit. Come to make good on the debt, no doubt.
“Bind her and take her back to the ship.”
No doubt at all.
“What of the Korrigan?” another asked, sounding identical to the first.
A shrug. “Nothing was said of any Korrigan. Kill him and be done with it. We can’t have . . .”
The leader never finished their sentence. Jack gave an incoherent bellow and charged them, raising his knife high. Green blood sprayed the air as Kelpie and Korrigan went down in a pile, Jack rising out of the mob with his knife held high. Violet gave a small cry as the other Kelpies rushed in to swarm Jack, except the one who grabbed her from behind, spinning her roughly around.
She froze, staring into reptile eyes. A face dark with blood and dust. A face she did know.
“Quill!”
Her skin burned where he touched her. He removed his hands quickly enough and she saw the blue lightning arc around his body. The forgotten barrow and its supplies, so precious an hour ago, became wayward missiles to him, pummelling his kindred mercilessly. Jack roared in triumph as he regained his feet, shaking the last attacker off, his knife sheathed in gore. His eyes found Quill and took a moment to recognise him. Then the maniacal laughter.
“The ship!” Quill ordered both of them. “Run for the Tantamount and do not stop!”
“Scared of a few Kelpies, Kelpie?” Jack said.
“They are not alone, you mindless oaf.” Quill shoved Violet down the street, his touch still shocking where it brushed bare skin. “They are with her. With Heathen! The Mangonel Falling is here on Vice!”
“The Mangonel?” Violet gasped. No, that wasn’t right. This was because of Hounds and the yiqi. About reputation.
“Why? What do they want?”
Quill’s eyes bored into hers as they ran. “Us.”
“Run faster!” Jack growled at them both. It was hard to tell if any of the gore and bile layered on him was his own—the Korrigan looked to have been wading through a swamp.
Quill was still pushing her along, hand on her shoulder near the back of her neck, where her new ink was. The pain was noticeable enough that she cried out when he shoved her forward, throwing her to the ground. She twisted as she fell, enough to see the black shadow that swept Quill off his feet, passing through the space where she would have been. Quill was thrown a dozen feet, curling up into a ball around his middle.
“Jack!” Violet called out desperately, scrabbling backwards. Jack grabbed her by the arm, jerking her onto her feet.
The golem now stood between them and Quill. It had followed her all the way from the black to Port Border to Vice. How?
How? Her mind screamed. But there was no time. Quill was still moving behind it, behind Onyx. Writhing, almost dead to the world.
“Leave him,” Jack said, trying to pull her away.
“No!” Violet pulled her arm free, standing steadfast in the path of the golem. Her breath came fast and sharp, if she’d had more time she might have been scared.
“Not dying for the damned Kelpie, girl,” she heard Jack say. But it didn’t matter what he said. Onyx took a step towards her, reaching with one hand.
“We can’t leave him,” she said. “Need him to fly the ship. That thing will follow us, Jack. Back to the ship. To the captain, to Gabbi . . .”
She stepped back from the golem’s swipe. Not nearly as fast as she remembered, just not right without its master. She’d seen the grab coming almost before it happened, barely had to think about it.
Something it blames me for. Those red eyes, damn those eyes, they . . .
“Jack! The eyes, go for the eyes!” She wasn’t even sure if he was still there or if he’d run back to the ship. She cast about for something, anything she could throw at those bloody red eyes.
Violet flinched at the clang of steel on stone and so did Onyx. The golem reached up to its face with one ungainly hand. Jack’s knife, buried in the eye socket. The golem staggered, not in pain but momentarily disorientated.
Violet rushed forward, ducking under the other waving arm. Quill, still groggy, barely aware of her. She hooked his arm over her shoulder, pushing them both up. One foot in front of the other, you damned Kelpie. One foot, two foot, left foot, right foot . . .
Golem.
Onyx held out the remains of Jack’s knife, crushed beyond recognition, and dropped it
to the ground. It reached for Violet. She couldn’t dodge this time, not with Quill on her back. All she could do was strike out at the limb with her own hand, try and push it away, just enough for them to get around.
It was like when Quill had touched her before, only a hundred times worse. She felt her entire body spasm as she made contact with the black glass monster, pain shooting down her arm. There a flash, an image, of her touching the golem before, on Port Border. The same pain. Her heart might explode, her head burst, her eyes boil in their sockets.
And the golem was thrown away from them as if all that pain were suddenly directed at it.
Violet could only stare, Jack too, wide-eyed stupid at the golem struggling in the rubble of the wall it had collided with. Jack turned to her, slack jawed. Violet stared at her own hand, bandaged and scarred.
Did I just . . .
A panting wheeze from beside her. Quill, she’d somehow forgotten. The Kelpie clutched at his chest, the faintest flickers of blue light around his clawed fingers.
“I told you,” he said, voice faint and laboured. “I told you.”
Chapter 17
“SHOW A LEG and turn out, people. I want to see sails down and sailors stand from under! And standby to weigh that damned anchor!”
Nel and the captain’s shouted orders blurred into one long oratory as they whipped the Tantamount’s crew into action. Sailors climbed high into the rigging to unfurl sails, ropes were winched or loosed as required, hatches battened, supplies secured and all chests downed. Gabbi caught Nel’s eye from the galley door. Their situation was grim and both knew it.
The captain stood tall atop the bridge, flanked by their new navigator. The first time the Tantamount had boasted two in years and they might already be back to one. Nel had barely arrived only to find Quill missing, traipsed off to town on some whim. And not just Quill. Violet and Jack hadn’t returned either.
Nel cast furtive glances at the dock. They were only a few agonising minutes from being able to cast off. Half the lines were already gone and two sailors were standing by to remove the gangway. For the first time, Nel started to give serious consideration to what might have to happen. If her wayward crew didn’t return in the next few heartbeats, they might be left stranded at Vice. It was Cauldron all over again. The Tantamount had no choice but to set sail. Stuck in their berth they were an easy mark for boarding parties or the trained gunners of the Alliance ship.
No, they couldn’t wait. The whole ship, every soul aboard, was at risk.
“Captain,” Nel said through gritted teeth as she bounded to the top of the stairs, reaching the bridge. “Captain, we can’t . . .”
“There they are, Nel.” Horatio nodded towards the docks. Nel leaned out over the rail, searching for what her captain had seen. A heavy weight lifted from her chest as her eyes found the last three stragglers. Quill was leaning on Violet; he seemed to be struggling. Jack brought up the rear, one of his arms dark and stained to the elbow. But whatever their condition, the three scampered up the boarding plank and onto the deck. The crew cast off the last of the remaining lines, and at the captain’s command the sails started to fill as their new navigator pushed them away from the docks.
“Go see to them, Nel,” the captain bade her. “Make for the falls,” he said to Mantid. “Full sail, as short a course as you can plot.”
Nel descended to the main deck with an eye towards the trio.
“What happened?” she demanded.
“They jumped us, Skipper,” Violet said. “Me and Jack. Then all of us on the way back.”
“Alliance?” Nel held her voice steady.
“Kelpies,” Jack spat.
“Heathen,” Quill grimaced. He pushed Violet away, grabbing a rope for support.
“You saw her?” Nel demanded of him.
“I recognised her kind, her ship. And worse.”
Nel let that go. Now was not the time. Mangonel’s here too. Never rains but it pours and damn if it isn’t all coming down on us.
“You hurt badly, then?”
Quill drew himself up haughtily. “Not bad enough that I can’t fly the ship better than that . . . bug.” He eyed the bridge disdainfully.
“Get to the captain then. Catch your breath for now, let the Mantid do the easy lifting. I want you ready if things get nasty later on. We aren’t out of this yet so save your strength for when we need you.”
Quill snorted but accepted her words. Hopefully she’d plumped his ego enough that he wouldn’t try and wrestle the helm away from his backup. He was limping as he made his way to the bridge, holding one hand to his ribs.
“Jack,” Nel continued, “up in the rigging. I want every scrap of sail we’ve got patched and up on our masts. See it gets done.”
“Aye, Skipper,” Jack grunted. He looked the way Quill had gone, shaking his head in disgust. “Forgot about the damned bug. How’d she make me forget about him?” He went for the mainmast, still grousing. Nel ignored that too.
“What about me, Skipper?” Violet asked.
“You hurt?” Nel asked. “Don’t lie to me here.”
“No, ma’am, was just Quill who got knocked around some by Onyx. They never got near me.”
“Onyx?” Nel seized on the name. Hells, all our sins are coming back to us. Is there anyone on this rock not out to get us?
“Aye, Skipper,” Violet hesitated. “I should have said . . . I . . .”
“Later. Right now your place is up in the nest, lass, I need your eyes. The Mangonel’s coming for us and we’re dead if she sees us first. You see her or any other ship you sing out and don’t be shy about it.”
“Aye, Skipper.” Violet nodded fiercely, to Nel’s mild surprise. Normally the girl did not fare well in the crow’s nest but she turned and darted up the ratlines like she was born for it. A small dark blur shot after her: Bandit, racing her to the top.
“We’re in deep, aren’t we, Nel?”
Nel faced her friend. Gabbi’s face was creased with worry lines but she seemed a small spot of calm in the whirlwind of frantic activity that gripped the Tantamount. The deck heaved and swayed under their feet, riding the swell of the waves, so unlike the smooth passage through stars. Yet that wasn’t what had caused the greyish tinge to Gabbi’s face.
“We’ve been in worse,” Nel heard herself say.
“No.” Gabbi shook her head stubbornly. “We haven’t. We’ve been in debt, in danger, and in ruin. We’ve never been on the run from the law like this. Skirted the edges maybe, but never a price or a warrant on our heads. Nothing like this.”
“Them out there,” Nel gestured vaguely. “They ain’t the law.”
“They’ve the name, the uniform, the officialdom. All they need to hunt us down. Might as make no difference.”
“We’re getting out of here, Gabbi.” Nel placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I’ll get us clear of this. Back to the Free Lanes where none of it matters. Thing’s will be just like they were, like they ought.”
Gabbi squeezed her hand. “I trust you, Skipper. Always have.”
Nel accepted the praise silently. What could one say to it, in any case? She made her way to the bridge, joining Horatio, Quill, and Mantid.
Their new navigator didn’t have Quill’s finesse when it came to managing the Tantamount, though Nel was prepared to put that down to their hasty exit and inexperience with the ship. But he might be stronger. The Tantamount was steering a straight line for the edge of the world at an impressive clip. Quill was doing his best to ignore this, fussing over his charts, head coming up to mark the distance to the horizon.
Nel gave the captain a rueful look. It did Quill some good to have competition for his duties aboard the ship, but the expression her captain returned was a grave one. Silently, he handed her his brass-chased telescope.
“Violet sighted her, Nel. We’re in for a run to the falls.”
Tension coiling in the pit of her stomach, Nel trained the spyglass on the clouds over Vice. Violet had done
well to spot the incoming ship. It was still distant but there was no mistaking the expansive silhouette.
“Well, Skipper,” Horatio said quietly, “as a former Alliance officer, what would you expect them to do in this situation?”
“They may not be following Alliance guidelines, Captain,” Nel cautioned. “This isn’t a textbook situation for either of us.”
“Heathen was trained in the Alliance, the same as you,” Horatio reminded her. “The same as most of those crewing that ship. I doubt they’ll become too creative. The simplest plans are often the best. My question stands.”
“Aye, Captain,” Nel considered. “Boarding craft, either from the Mangonel or from Vice. That ship might be faster up there than us while we’re still waterborne but if we launch free we can outrun her. They’ll try and cut us off at some point, maybe take out our sails or some such. They won’t be content to just chase us.”
“You think they’ll fire on us?”
“Not yet, not here. Too close to the settlement. Official or not, they won’t risk that, too many questions, might even provoke a response. When we get to the edge . . .”
“That would be when you come in, Mister Quill.” Horatio faced his long-time navigator.
Quill nodded eagerly, though he still held a hand to his side, over his ribs. “I have an idea. The falls . . .”
“Keep us in one piece, navigator,” Nel warned.
“Yes, yes,” Quill dismissed her concerns. His attention was split between the fast-approaching horizon and the behemoth overhead.
“They’re really coming for us,” Horatio said, almost musing. He was looking up towards Violet in the nest, and beyond that to the ship in the sky above. “I hoped they might forget about us, I truly did. I should have told you, Nel. I’m so sorry . . .”
Told me what? Nel pushed that thought aside. Too late which meant it was not something to waste thought on. She was more concerned with how their newly inducted crew members might be reacting to being chased by a ship-of-the-line after their first run aboard the Tantamount. Questions, too many questions and no time to address them. Her hand came up to touch the key on a cord around her neck, the one remaining to her. Nel briefly considered breaking open the arms locker, but only briefly. If they were boarded it was all over.
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