That was what had happened to Sharpe's vessel—the smaller ship always came off worse. Nel for one was happy to let the other crew take their time. Even so, the timbers near the meshing creaked and an artificial breeze stirred the loose rigging.
The sight and sound made Nel wince—this just from a ship their own size. The Mangonel's envelope would have ripped the Tantamount apart, the same way as Sharpe's ship had been.
Nel followed Horatio down the stairs to where most of the crew was gathered. She saw Piper and Jack down the far end, looking large and intimidating compared to the rest of their shipmates. She was glad they were together, trusting in Piper to keep Jack from acting too belligerent. Who else was likely to make trouble? Sharpe came to mind—she spotted him leaning against the mainmast, ill at ease as he studied the new arrivals. Something was bothering him. Odd, the ship they'd plucked him off had been Alliance, but he seemed none too pleased to see them again. Though it could be just the privateer element. As Nel watched he turned and descended into the hold. Content to sit out the meeting or eager to avoid any face to face encounters? Something to ponder.
Scarlett was the last person Nel searched for. Their plan for dealing with the blockade centred around the Guildswoman. She was seated atop a water barrel, one of her wands laid across her lap, polishing invisible dirt from the weapon with a square of silk. Her eyes were diverted the way Sharpe had gone, but with no discernible expression that Nel could read. Still, interesting.
Gabbi tugged on her arm. “Look, Skipper. Quill might have some friends after all.”
The crew aboard the frigate were one and all Kelpies. They made for an intimidating bunch, all teeth, scales, and tails. The sight of them made Nel glance back to the Tantamount's bridge, where Quill had retreated. As she suspected, he didn't look happy to see his kin at all, if the lashing of his tail was any standard to go by. In fact, there were small telltale bolts barely visible around his clenched fists.
“What's his problem?” Gabbi asked, seeing the same signs.
“He's old-fashioned,” Nel muttered, glancing at the other Kelpies. They were a mean-looking bunch, but either they hadn't noticed Quill or weren't paying him any attention. Their spokesperson was the first one aboard, darting across the planks bridging the gap between the two ships, followed by a dozen or so others, all of them armed. Most carried wands, a few even had the larger, more powerful staff variants. Nel eyed one with the weapon slung casually over their shoulder, clawed fingers beating a rhythmic tattoo into the shaft.
“Hells. Dammit,” Nel cursed when she got a closer look at the lead Kelpie. The bottom of her stomach dropped, a fair imitation of how she felt when she got into a bubble.
“What?” Gabbi asked. “Ex-boyfriend?”
“Ex-captain,” Nel told her grimly. She found she was clutching her wand again.
“Skipper?” Gabbi said incredulously. “You sailed under a Kelpie privateer?”
“She wasn't a privateer back then,” Nel said. “Come on.”
“She?” Gabbi whispered as they got closer. “How can you tell? I don't see any . . . um . . .”
“She told me,” Nel said tersely. “Now be quiet.”
The Kelpie captain stood slightly shorter than her crewmates, not because she was female—as Nel could tentatively identify the group of Kelpies as a mix of genders—but because Heathen had always been shorter than average. At full height she would have towered over Nell but like all Kelpies she walked and stood with her legs bent, folding at the knee, and her head sloped forward. It gave Heathen and the other Kelpies a poised, attentive stance. Like a coiled spring to Quill's barely restrained, taut bowstring.
Heathen's tongue flicked out, sampling the air aboard the Tantamount.
“Where is the captain?” she asked in her race's oddly stilted tone.
“Here,” Horatio said, stepping forward, one hand in his ship's coat, the other nervously stroking his moustache. “Captain Horatio Phelps of the Tantamount.”
“Captain Heathen of the Killing Loneliness, currently under the Alliance colours.” Heathen rested her hands on the belt around her waist, a belt with an Alliance wand holstered. A wand that was issued to captains on their first commission.
“This is restricted territory,” Heathen informed Horatio, speaking loudly for the benefit of the crew. “Until the present hostilities are settled all traffic to and from this area of space is under embargo.”
“Which hostilities would those be?” Horatio asked.
Heathen eyed him, perhaps considering whether he was being flippant. “There is a war going on between Grange and Thatch.”
“Neither of which are vassals or members of the Alliance,” Horatio was quick to say. “What right have you to place planets in the Free Lanes under an embargo?”
“The violence was beginning to spill over beyond the conflicted territories,” Heathen said. “Action became necessary.”
“What spill?” Quill interrupted, pushing his way through the crew. “There's nothing but open space for thousands of leagues in any direction. What possible reason could you,” the word was laced with heavy sarcasm, “have for a blockade?”
Heathen barely glanced at Quill, keeping her attention on Horatio.
“That's my navigator, Quill,” the captain of the Tantamount said, a hint of steel entering his voice. “He asked you a question.”
“I don't care to know the name of one as delusional as he,” Heathen muttered. “Nor do I care to answer his question.”
“Then you'll answer mine,” Horatio snapped. “What right has the Alliance to impose a blockade?”
“Trade was being disrupted,” Heathen told him. “Traders, captains such as yourself, were being waylaid, their cargo taken as fuel for the war. Both sides were guilty of such actions. The Alliance has the right to instigate action in such a situation.”
Horatio didn't look satisfied and opened his mouth to argue further.
“I recognise some of your crew, Captain,” Heathen cut him off before he could do so. “Some of them served in the Alliance. I recognise a former officer of mine, in fact.”
“Hells,” Nel muttered to Gabbi, “here we go.”
She strode forward, uncomfortably aware that the attention of two crews was fixed upon her. Maybe it wasn't the best idea given how Heathen had reacted, but Nel found herself coming to stand alongside Quill. The navigator shifted his weight at her presence but didn't show any other signs of emotion. He could be grateful or annoyed or just plain indifferent.
“Captain,” Nel nodded to Heathen. “Strange, seeing you out of uniform. Last time I saw you it was more than just Alliance colours.”
A sawtoothed grin. “Makes me a reliable contractor. Of course, the last time I saw you, it was skipper, not captain. And . . .” She glanced around and reconsidered her words. “Perhaps not. Not now.”
Nel took a breath and let it out slowly. She trusted Heathen's discretion, she just didn't like reminders of her past life.
“You sail under this man?” Heathen cocked her head towards Horatio.
“I do.”
“Hmm.” Heathen considered. “Seeing you here, Vaughn, makes me recall things. But it changes nothing. This area is still under martial blockade. You know Alliance rules as well as I do. We have followed them to the letter in the past, we will do so again here.”
“We're carrying a relief cargo,” Nel said. “Medical supplies, meant for Grange. Nothing that would violate a mercantile or arms embargo. Nothing that could be used in terms of war, no munitions or supplies. The cargo is purely charitable.”
Heathen's double lidded eyes held Nel's. “You will not object to us verifying this?”
Nel motioned behind her. “Gabbi, take them below.”
“Aye, Skipper,” she heard the cook answer. Two of Heathen's crew detached themselves from the boarding party. The rest remained with their captain, hands never far from weapons.
“Even a benign cargo is not grounds to bypass us, Vaughn,” Heathen
advised Nel. “You could be carrying information, coded messages, intangible things, things our search would never reveal. We cannot let you through.”
“Is that what you think?” Nel was getting annoyed. “Have I fallen that far in your eyes?”
“In my eyes?” Heathen considered. “No, you have not. I remember you serving under me. But it matters not what I think . . .”
Quill snorted.
“Quill,” Nel warned.
“Let him,” Heathen said dismissively. “His opinion is as irrelevant as his beliefs.”
“He's my crew,” Nel said, adding under her breath, “even if he is striving for galley duty.”
“Captain,” the call came from the returning search party. They hadn't been gone more than a minute. Heathen conferred briefly with her crew, turning back to Nel.
“What?” Nel folded her arms defiantly. “There's nothing down there but medical supplies.”
“And a golem,” Heathen said, her words having an immediate effect upon her crew. Weapons were drawn, prompting an outcry from the Tantamount's crew. “You said you had no war materials. Explain that to me.”
Quill stepped forward. “I would love to discuss the matter with you.” A wave ran through the Tantamount's crew—with weapons drawn on their deck some were clearly tempted to take Quill's side. That couldn't happen.
“Quill, no!” Nel barked, drawing her wand and pointing it at her navigator.
“You,” he growled. He gestured at her. “You point that at me? On our ship . . . with them here!”
“Don't make me use it,” Nel said. Quill stared at her down the length of the wand, furious.
“Stand down, navigator,” Nel said, mentally pleading with him to do so. If it meant stopping an escalation she'd do it. She would shoot Quill, in front of the crew. Her crew. Her captain. Her former captain.
Stand down, Quill, she thought as hard as she could.
For the longest moment Quill just stared at her. She had his full attention now, had taken him by surprise, derailed his private crusade against his kin. And Nel watched as some sort of emotion passed over her navigator's hard face. Complication or confliction, it was hard to say, so brief and then it was gone, hidden away.
Quill stood down, refusing to meet Nel's eyes anymore. He took a step back, fading away into the crew. For some reason that made Nel feel even worse about it.
“The golem is private property,” Nel said to Heathen, lowering her wand. “It's not cargo.”
“Yours?” the Kelpie captain queried her suspiciously.
“Mine.” Scarlett stepped forward. She moved with an easy sway into a tense situation. Despite being the most heavily and visibly armed person amongst the Tantamount's crew, she didn't draw as much attention as Nel had only minutes before.
Heathen regarded her suspiciously. “And you are?”
“Scarlett.”
“Your rank, affiliation?” Heathen asked stiffly. Her eyes narrowed, straying back to Nel. Heathen clearly suspected she was being played somehow. And she was right.
Scarlett smiled. “Guild.”
A shudder went through the Kelpie crew, whether fear or frustration it was hard to tell.
“You have proof?” Heathen demanded, but in a more subdued manner.
Scarlett did. She showed it. Nel scowled at that. It was only the day before when Scarlett had fronted with her credentials to her and the captain. Confided her plan for bypassing the blockade. Confirmation of what they'd already known, but it irked Nel that Scarlett had kept quiet about it. And now they were depending on her to get them through the blockade. An altruistic cargo wouldn't get them through, but one accompanied by a Guildswoman would be harder to reject. They were betting on it being too hard for the Alliance to justify.
Heathen studied Scarlett's identification soberly. Both sets of eyelids blinked, one then the other, crossing over each other.
“Guild authority,” Horatio said what everyone was thinking, “trumps your blockade, Captain. We'll be proceeding.”
“Yes,” Heathen said, handing Scarlett's effects back. She glanced over her shoulder, in the direction of the Alliance dreadnought drifting out in the miasma. “As far as Rim.”
“What?” Nel growled.
“Rim,” Heathen repeated. “The outermost port before Grange. That's as far as your Guild pass gets you.”
Nel glanced at Scarlett. The woman only shrugged in response. “Even we have our limits.”
“Rim is a staging post,” Heathen informed them. “You can drop your altruistic cargo there. It will have to make the remaining journey alone. Any further progression will be seen as a violation of the blockade and treated as such. This is the only warning you will be given. Attempt to land on Grange, or Thatch, and you will be treated as a hostile.”
“Rim will be fine, Captain,” Scarlett assured her. “We'll be returning from there shortly.”
“That's good to hear.” Heathen narrowed her eyes on the Guildswoman. “Perhaps I should have been addressing you this entire time. It could have prevented misunderstandings.”
Scarlett shrugged. “Perhaps.”
Typical Guild, Nel thought. Take all the credit and leave them wondering. Another secret, another question. Another smug Guildsman leaving twisted arms and bruised egos in their wake.
“Perhaps I should leave some of my crew on board,” Heathen suggested.
“Not necessary,” Nel said. “Particularly given the way some of my crew might react to their presence.”
Even to her the words sounded hollow, a cheap attempt to get back on Quill's good side. Quill's mood got even uglier, if that was possible, and Nel wished she hadn't bothered. Quill stalked off to vanish into the still edgy crew as Heathen gave Nel that toothy smile. The one that said how little she cared if Quill didn't play well with his own kind.
“Since you have a Guild representative aboard, and given our own history, Vaughn, I'm prepared to let you sail freely to Rim. I trust you won't make me regret that.”
Nel gave her former captain a chill smile. Heathen had never had any intention of putting crew aboard the Tantamount. She'd just thrown out some bait to see what sort of reaction she might get.
“A moment of your time,” Heathen said to Nel, drawing her away from both crews.
Her former captain studied her for a moment, taking a measured glance around at the Tantamount and its misfit crew. “You travel in difficult company.”
Nel felt her eyes narrow at the implication. “That's my crew you're talking about.”
“Not them,” Heathen corrected. “The Guildswoman. I believe a large part of your reason for leaving the Alliance was a longing for a simpler, less conflicted life.”
Nel turned her face aside, reluctant to recall a time when she had addressed Heathen as captain. “That was a long time ago. And that woman is not on my ship by choice.”
“Then things have not changed much then, have they, Vaughn.” Heathen looked again to the Alliance dreadnought, weighing up something. “This is a difficult situation. An Alliance vessel has already been lost. There may be a retaliation.”
Nel felt her heart start to race at her former captain's words. Reasons for leaving the Alliance came flooding back to her. “Dammit, tell me that's not why you're here,” she whispered, grabbing her former captain's arm. It felt like catching a bolt from a wand with her bare hands. Nel jerked her arm back quickly, stung. She shook her hand, trying to get the feeling back into the fingers, cursing. She knew better than to lay hands on a thaumatic who didn't want to be touched.
“It may . . . may come to that.” Heathen regarded her coolly. “Control your temper, Vaughn, and your feelings.” The Kelpie looked past her, to the crew of the Tantamount. “Think of your crew, Vaughn. They are your concern, your priority. Deliver your cargo and get away from this place, forget you were ever here.”
“That sounds like a threat, Captain,” Nel said.
“A warning,” Heathen corrected. “I would not see you or your crew dr
awn into the mess this conflict has become. Look after your crew, Vaughn, that's all I ask of you.”
“That's all you ever asked,” Nel muttered.
Heathen let her crew finish searching the Tantamount; they weren't quick. When they were satisfied there weren't any more golems hiding under the floorboards, they took their leave. The frigate pulled away, the separation of envelopes causing the two ships to bob unsteadily, like they were at sea. Nel didn't care for the sensation.
“Don't see a lot of thaumatics make the jump up to captain,” Horatio commented, watching the ship draw away.
Nel flexed her fingers. They were still numb. “Not many like her, Captain.”
“She's strong, isn't she?” Horatio tapped Nel's hand. “I remember you saying, when you first signed on . . .”
“Yes,” Nel muttered darkly.
Horatio nodded. “Funny who you run into out here sometimes. Carry on, my girl.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“A word with you,” Scarlett's cultured voice drew her attention. Nel found the woman standing not far away and was immediately annoyed at herself for not having noticed Scarlett earlier. She must be more rattled than she'd thought.
“I've a question you can answer,” Scarlett continued.
“Heathen was my captain in the Alliance,” Nel said, not wanting to belabour the question. “Five years ago.”
“I'd gathered as much,” Scarlett said. “That wasn't my question.”
“What was then?” Nel was surprised.
“Your navigator. His opposition to the other crew seemed fundamental, not personal.”
“Why don't you ask him yourself?” Nel suggested.
“Because he's in a violent mood.” Scarlett's tone was dry.
Nel thought about it and decided there was little harm in talking about it. Quill's strife was hardly a secret, nor even unique.
“You're familiar with Kelpie religion?” she asked.
“Some,” Scarlett said dryly. “Hardly the most enticing theology.”
Nel chuckled sourly. “The deities you're familiar with are the new gods, sprung up maybe a hundred years ago. The cult took off like wildfire.”
“Interesting.” Scarlett considered this bit of cultural information. “What happened to the old Kelpie gods?”
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