Wake of the Bloody Angel el-4

by Alex Bledsoe

  Jane said, “Dylan, that’s not fair-”

  “What are ships like this afraid of?” I asked.

  Clift turned slowly and looked at me, but his anger had already dissipated. “Only war, weather, or pirates could stop a merchant ship from delivering her cargo. There’s no war big enough to account for all this, the weather’s perfect, and we haven’t seen any pirates, either.”

  “But look at that,” Jane said, and pointed. “A Rafelian navy frigate.”

  “So it’s not just commercial ships,” I said.

  “Apparently not.”

  It took a long time, but eventually we reached the end of a dock where we could tie up alongside the launches from several other vessels. The town beyond the docks swarmed with people, but they weren’t moving much; they stood in groups talking, or listening to speakers pontificating from storefronts, or just numbly standing around.

  Clift turned to our pair of rowers. “Men, stay with the wherry. If we’re not back by nightfall, return to the ship and tell Mr. Seaton he’s in charge, and that my advice is to get the hell out of here.”

  “Aye, sir,” they said.

  He kept looking at them. “I’m serious, lads. I’m trusting you. I don’t know what’s going on yet, but I see plenty of vessels who seem content to molder here. The Cow is not one of them. Am I clear?”

  The two sat up a little straighter, and their simultaneous “Aye, aye, sir,” was more emphatic.

  “Good. I always knew I had the best crew in the fleet.”

  As we strode down the dock toward solid land, I noticed something and asked, “What’s that?”

  A dozen ships were blocked off from the rest of the harbor by red buoys connected by stout chains. Armed men stood along the waterfront, isolating these vessels from land. None had any visible damage, or crew.

  “There’s the Mellow Wine,” Jane said, pointing.

  I recognized the abandoned ship we’d encountered before. “Are all those ghost ships, then?”

  “Maybe that’s what everyone is-” Suddenly Clift stopped, staring at one of the ships behind the quarantine line.

  Jane said, “What is it?”

  “The Indigo Ray, ” Clift said in disbelief. “She’s one of ours. A pirate hunter.”

  The ship he indicated had the same general lines as the Red Cow, but was painted dark colors to better suit her name. Clift headed toward her, only to have one of the guards move to block his way.

  “Sorry, Cap’n Clift,” the guard said. “Nobody goes aboard. Harbormaster’s orders.”

  “Who brought in the Indigo Ray?”

  “I can’t really say. You’ll have to talk to the harbormaster.”

  “Was she one of the ghost ships?”

  The guard looked at his fellows, then leaned closer. “D’you remember me, Cap’n? Ah, well, no matter. You gave me a fair shake once when you didn’t have to, and I remember it. The Copper Lance brought in the Ray. She was found empty and adrift, just like the others. ’Tis one thing to have a cargo vessel overtook, but first naval warships, then one of the pirate hunters…” He shook his head. “Now no one will leave the harbor.”

  “Anyone mention a strange mark left on them?” I interjected.

  He looked at me suspiciously. “What sort of a mark?”

  “A double X,” Clift said.

  The guard turned his attention back to the captain. “Aye, I’ve heard rumors of that. Haven’t seen it myself. On the door to the captain’s cabin, they say.”

  “Where’s the captain of the Lance?”

  “No idea, Cap’n. Try the harbormaster, if you can get through the crowd.”

  “Thanks, Mr.-?”

  “Weston, sir.”

  “Weston. Sorry, I don’t recall when we met.”

  “Only one of us has to, sir.”

  “We’ll not get answers here,” Clift said to us. He marched down the dock with such purpose that people instinctively stepped aside. We almost ran to keep up.

  At the end of the dock stood a huge sign welcoming people to Blefuscola in a dozen different languages. The town’s motto was also repeated multiple times: “A safe place for all ships in need.”

  That noble sentiment was balanced by the most godawful smell I’ve ever encountered outside a privy. I’d acclimated to the ship’s odors, to the point that the piss barrel didn’t even register on me anymore, but this was about a million times worse. Unwashed bodies, mud, urine, and rotting garbage contributed to a wave of aroma that made my stomach roil. Even Jane wrinkled her nose.

  “Overcrowding,” she said. “There’s usually only about a tenth this many people here.”

  “What do they want?” I asked.

  “Safety. Protection. Answers.”

  “I want answers, too,” Clift snapped in annoyance. “And we won’t find them cowering here, put off by a little stink.”

  Those ashore who noticed us did not look happy to see us, and turned away as soon as we made eye contact. Our progress was significantly slowed by a crowd gathered in front of one of the little buildings to hear a wild-voiced man pontificate on something. We couldn’t avoid his harangue as we worked our way around.

  “It was a cable’s length long, from maw to tail tip. And it came roaring out of the dark, with one big baleful eye. Whoosh! We’re smashed in to starboard. Wham! We’re crushed to port. And then, it come up amidships, tore away our masts, and sunk us. Thirty good and true sailor men, drowned and dead.”

  The crowd murmured.

  “And whatever is behind these ghost ships is part of the same vile family! I tell ye, it probably flies down and snatches the folks off the deck before they even know what’s coming! Flies out of the sun, I bet ye, like an eagle snaring a field mouse.”

  “Flying monsters,” Clift said disdainfully, then added loudly, “Flies out of your goddamn liquor jug, maybe!”

  “And who might you be?” the old man demanded.

  “Someone who has sense enough to know there’s no flying one-eyed monsters out there. If your ship sank, friend, I’d be looking at the captain first; maybe he just can’t read a map, and decided a monster was a better cause than a reef he didn’t spot in time.”

  I said nothing, but recalled vividly a cave in the hills above Neceda where I faced the last of the fire-breathing dragons. So I wasn’t so quick to reject the idea out of hand.

  “You!” someone else cried. We looked around. A peglegged sailor hobbled through the mud toward us, using the shoulders of others in the crowd for balance. When he reached us, the one-legged man said, “You’re from the bloody AntiFreebooters, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” Clift said guardedly.

  “Then why are you here? Why aren’t you out there finding the villains who did this?”

  “And who are you?” Clift challenged. “Doesn’t look like any of you are in a position to call another man coward.”

  This raised some hackles in the crowd. I leaned close to Jane and said, “Should we expect a fight?” She shrugged, but surreptitiously moved away to guard the captain’s other blind spot. I folded my arms, which put my hand near my sword hilt.

  “We’re not fighting men, you cur,” peg leg said. “We pay taxes and tariffs so your kind will do that dirty work. So why aren’t you out there?”

  We were now the focus of the crowd’s ire, and they closed in around us. The fight would be long, and we’d take a lot of them with us, but eventually they’d have us by sheer numbers. I saw the muscles in Jane’s shoulders flex as she got ready.

  Clift walked up to peg leg, looked him up and down, and then slapped him so hard, he fell to the mud.

  “You stinking, bilge-sucking son of a bitch!” he yelled. “You want to pick a fight with me, get up and do it! I won’t stand for your slander.” He looked at the crowd. “What about the rest of you? Any of you feel lucky?”

  When no one responded, he looked down at peg leg. “I just arrived in this stink-hole. I don’t have a clue what’s happening with these ghost ships, but
by heaven, I’ll make a ghost of the next man who calls me a coward.” He yanked peg leg to his feet… well, foot. “Go sign aboard my ship, the Red Cow. Tell them Captain Dylan Clift sent you personally. Then when we find the source of these attacks, you can be right there to see for yourself. If your balls hang low enough for the job, that is.”

  Peg leg wrenched free and disappeared back into the crowd. Clift glared around us, his gaze hot enough to make the crowd retreat wherever it fell. In moments, no one looked our way at all.

  He turned to us and said, “That was fun.” I think he meant it.

  People got out of our way even faster as we continued into town, the muddy street sucking at our boots. We reached a small building with a sign out front that announced, again in a dozen languages, that the man inside was both the town magistrate and the harbormaster. A crowd waited outside, while within, a dozen other captains shouted at one another. Clift pushed through them to the desk, where an old man with long white hair sat, a quill and inkwell before him.

  “I’m Captain Dylan Clift of the Red Cow, ” he announced. “I need to see the harbormaster.”

  The old man barely looked up. “Take a seat, wait your turn.” “I’m a pirate hunter, I get priority,” Clift said.

  “Not today, you don’t. All those ships in the harbor? The captain of every one of them is ahead of you.”

  Clift leaned down. “I don’t think you heard me. We get priority.”

  The man’s weathered face drew into a grimace as if a string tightened it from within his skull. “I don’t think you heard me, youngster. Not today, you don’t.” He dipped his pen in the inkwell to tell Clift he was dismissed. “Take a seat, wait your turn, and stop bothering me.”

  I stepped up to the desk and deliberately jingled the coins in my money bag. “I think we can reach an agreement.”

  The old man’s face tightened even more. “Oh, a bribe. With a harbor full of uncouth and barbaric sailors, no one’s thought to try that yet. My God, you’re brilliant.” He snorted in disgust.

  Jane said, “I guess we’ve got no choice.” She turned and went toward the door marked PRIVATE in the same list of tongues. A guard I hadn’t noticed stepped in front to stop her. I didn’t see exactly what she did to him, but it was fast and silent. She caught his unconscious body and lowered him to the floor.

  Heads turned toward us. As the old man rose to protest, I tossed a gold coin on his desk. The clink got the attention of just about everyone in the room. I said, “Thanks, pops.” I could imagine how happy the others would be to think the old man let us in ahead of them.

  There was a man seated before the harbormaster’s desk, and he jumped up when we appeared. “Dylan!” he cried, and shook the captain’s hand enthusiastically. “At least one other of us has made it to safety.”

  “Captain Shaw of the Copper Lance, this is Eddie LaCrosse and Jane Argo,” Clift said.

  Shaw stared at Jane. “ The Jane Argo?”

  “Definitely a Jane Argo,” she said with a grin.

  “It’s an honor to meet you.” He blatantly looked her up and down. “You certainly live up to the tales about you.”

  “Ahem,” the harbormaster said. He was a little round man, with leathery skin and a gold hoop in one earlobe. The wooden placard on his desk read HENSE MOLEWORTH, HARBORMASTER. A man whose name and job had the same initials must’ve found the right career. “I hate to interrupt this nautical good fellow society, but may I ask what you people are doing here? You have to wait your turn and-”

  “Why are all these ships hiding here?” Clift interrupted.

  Moleworth rubbed the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “We have a harbor full of unpaid, unwelcome guests who refuse to leave because they believe something supernatural is out there swallowing up ships’ crews. And for all I know, they may be right.”

  Clift turned to Shaw. “Is that what you think?”

  “I wouldn’t be so dramatic about it, but it’s the damndest thing. These empty ships started turning up six months ago. We found two passenger vessels abandoned, and brought them in. Then five days ago, we came across the Indigo Ray. Totally empty, not a thing out of place. There was even a kettle with a fire still under it.”

  “And no indication of what happened?” I asked.

  Shaw looked at me. “You’re not a sailor.”

  “He’s my charter,” Clift said.

  “You’re chartering now?” Shaw asked.

  “Only this once. And only for-” He nodded at Jane. “-special circumstances.”

  “Well, if you want to get out of here, you better do it before your crew hears about the Ray. Once mine did, they flat-out refused to leave. Even talked about going back on the account if I try to force them. The bunch of yellow flying fish.”

  “They’re that scared?” I asked Shaw.

  “The Ray was no pussy willow,” he said.

  “No,” Clift agreed. “It wasn’t. They had more captures than anyone else last year.” He turned to us. “Come on. Shaw’s right-we’re leaving.”

  We left the harbormaster’s office, but we didn’t head back to our wherry. Instead we returned to the quarantined ships and Weston the guard.

  “I want to go aboard the Indigo Ray, ” Clift said, softly so that the other guards wouldn’t hear.

  “I can’t allow that, Cap’n,” Weston whispered back. “Nothing personal.”

  “You said I once gave you a fair shake. That’s all I’m asking from you. We need to go aboard and look around. The authority that told you to keep people off the ship would understand, and would grant me permission, but that would take time we don’t have. We won’t move things around or take anything off. We just need to look.”

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  Clift reached into his pocket. Weston said stiffly, “I don’t bribe, sir.”

  “I’m not going to bribe you. I’m going to show you a piece of parchment. Only you and I will know what it says. If I say it’s permission to investigate the Indigo Ray signed by Queen Remy herself, and you don’t contradict me, who’s to say either of us is lying?”

  Clift produced a small rolled parchment, untied it, and held it for Weston’s perusal. The guard looked at it, then at Clift, his face impassive. At last he said, “Very well, Captain Clift.” He turned to his nearest coworker. “Cap’n Clift and his party have permission to go aboard the Indigo Ray. Pass them through.”

  “Aye,” said the other guard.

  Weston said, “There’s some launches tied at the end of the pier. You’ll have to row yourselves, I’m afraid.”

  “I remember how,” Clift said. “Thank you, Mr. Weston. If you ever want to return to the sea, there’s fair work and wage for you on the Red Cow. ”

  “Much obliged, Cap’n. It might just happen.”

  The Indigo Ray was essentially the same ship as the Red Cow, and searching it did not take long. It was hard to know what to think about it, since it was obvious others had been here before us: chalk outlines showed where various items had rested before being removed. The captain’s cabin was closed off with the yellow ribbon of authority, but we slipped under it and went inside.

  The double X was carved on the door, just as Fernelli had described on the Mellow Wine. As the others poked about, I stared at this symbol, struck by something I couldn’t quite pull forward from the back of my mind. It made sense that a criminal would mark the scene of his crime, especially if his future success depended as much on reputation as it did actual prowess. That was why so many pirates had their own flag designs. They wanted potential victims to know who they were.

  “The medical box is gone,” Jane said. “Just like on that merchant ship.”

  “The logbook’s gone, too,” Clift said. “I’d love to know their last noted position.”

  “If there was a pattern, don’t you think the harbormaster would’ve mentioned it?” Jane said.

  “You’re getting soft,” Clift said. “You trust quill-pushers now?”

  Jane igno
red him and joined me to stare at the door. “What do you see?”

  “Something,” I said. “Just not sure what yet.”

  She leaned close to my ear. “This isn’t our enigma, Eddie. Maybe we should try to find another ship. I know Dylan: he’s going to go after this. He takes any insult to the guild personally, and it’s hard to be more insulting than to leave one of their own ships in this condition.”

  “I heard that,” Clift said.

  “Stop eavesdropping,” Jane shot back.

  “You’re across the room, it’s impossible not to,” Clift replied.

  Suddenly the XX image resolved itself. I said, “I’m not so sure this isn’t our mystery, too. Give me your knife.”

  Jane took the blade from her belt, and I held it horizontally across the middle of the two X ’s. I asked, “Now what do you see?”

  She got it at once. “Ha!” she bellowed in delight.

  Clift joined us. “What? I don’t see anything but two X ’s.”

  “No,” I said. “With a line dividing them, it becomes a W on top of an M.”

  “For Wendell Marteen,” Jane added, still grinning.

  Clift stared at the symbol. “Is this,” he said at last, “what you’d consider a ‘clue’?”

  “It is. I can’t say for certain that it does stand for Wendell Marteen, but it’s a coincidence if it doesn’t.”

  “Are you willing to start searching for the source of these ghost ships under the belief that it will lead to Marteen? Because I can’t continue the charter otherwise. This is too serious, and the Cow needs to get back to her real job.”

  “Yeah, I’ll go along with it.”

  He smiled. “Then let’s get to work.”

  When we climbed back onto the dock from the launch, I felt eyes on me at once. It took me a moment to spot my watcher, but there he was: a man in a faded jacket and patched trousers, with a black handkerchief around his neck. His poxscarred face resembled the cracked bed of a river after the waters had dried up. He was just beyond the docks, staring at us-at me-as if I owed him money. People gave him a wide berth.

  Jane saw him, too. “Friend of yours?” she said softly. I shook my head. “Never saw him before.”