by Matt Gilbert
“I would, if only I knew it!”
Sandilianus stepped back and scowled at this, rubbing at his chin in appreciation of the problem. “I always assumed you prelates knew the answers, but perhaps that is unfair. Yazid seemed to know, but I suspect in his heart he had as many questions as we do. He put on a bold face to lead. There's another lesson for you, if you will learn it, poor student.”
Ahmed chuckled at this. “Your lessons are more to my liking. With Yazid, I wanted to fight, not study books. Your lessons seem more practical.”
“They are. And here is one more. War is risk. Sometimes we must give orders without full knowledge, and sometimes men die because of it. If we do not gamble on occasion, the enemy will get ahead of us. If we cannot be certain, and time is precious, we must make a choice and pray Ilaweh guides us.”
“Aye. We planned a day of rest, so let us finish it. Sometimes answers come in dreams. We will make our decision in the morning, whatever the case.”
“You will make the decision,” Sandilianus corrected. “Rest well, Ahmed.” He hammered a fist to his chest and left without another word.
Alone now, Ahmed bowed his head, folded his hands, and began to pray.
Ilaweh, show me the way!
Ahmed woke with a start, still seated at the desk. The lantern had burned out, and it was pitch black inside the cabin. Something is wrong! For a moment, he felt his innards chill with seawater, imagining they were once again sinking, but that was not it. The ship was rolling gently, but otherwise calm. There were no sounds of storm or breakage, no cries of terror.
This was something entirely different.
It was absolutely quiet. Too quiet. The night watches tried to be courteous, but there was always some conversation or accident that made noise. Now? Nothing.
Ahmed checked his sword and moved to the door. He hammered the latch and threw the door open hard enough to slam against the outer bulkhead. Silvery moonlight streamed into the dark room through the open hatch as he stepped out onto the main deck.
It was, indeed, bad. The decks were empty, meaning the ship was essentially out of control! Where was the crew?
“Battle stations!” he cried.
That seemed to upset someone. He could hear his own men scrambling to readiness, but he also heard cries of fear from…overboard?
He turned his head to the port side to see the ship’s small boat had been lowered. Damn them! They were fleeing in the middle of the ocean? It was madness!
Ahmed sprinted over to the railing and saw he was right. The thirty some odd natives were packed into the small lifeboat, and almost ready to depart. The Nihlosian was nowhere to be seen. The mutineers looked up at Ahmed in shock and fear, then redoubled their efforts to cast off their remaining lines
“Fools!” Ahmed shouted. “We are deep at sea! You will all surely die in that punt!”
One of them, the ringleader Ahmed supposed, shouted back, “It is a better death than driven straight to hell over the edge of the world!”
“Superstitious wretch! There is no edge to the world!”
“So says a black skinned demon. Better to drown than go back to your home!” The last of the lines came loose, and the boat began to drift away.
For a brief moment, Ahmed considered letting them go to their doom, but he knew it was too cruel a punishment for simply being idiots. Besides, he really needed them. His men could likely run the ship without them, at least for a while, but it would be dangerous with no extra hands. They could limp back to the coast on their own, but without a navigator, they would never be going home. Ahmed though briefly of Tahir, remembering how much he had hated the halfbreed.
Ahmed looked about, hoping some of his men would be closer, but they were only just now emerging onto the main deck. If the mutineers got the boat even a short distance away, it would be damnably difficult to overpower them. His men were soldiers, not sharks.
His eye fell upon a great hunk of metal lying against the rails. It was tied to a long rope. An anchor, perhaps? No, too small, and he didn’t really need to know exactly what its actual use was in order to give it a new one. He pulled at it, grunting. It was at least a hundred pounds. Good. That should do. He hauled the thing onto the top of the rail with a grunt.
“Will you not turn back, fools?” he called down.
They looked up in horror, realizing his plan, but this did nothing to dissuade them from leaving. They scrambled for oars and plunged them in the water, cursing and shouting at one another, but it was too late.
Ahmed heaved the chunk of metal over the side. The escapees watched it fall, screaming and scrambling to get out of the way. It hit the bow like a catapult missile, tearing away the entire front of the boat with the thunderous crash of snapping timber.
Ahmed turned back to his approaching men. “Someone help them aboard before they drown. And find me that damned Nihlosian!”
They found him quickly enough, bound and gagged in the aft crew’s quarters. Eleran glared about in impotent fury as they chuckled at his plight, his eyes making promises for his fists to keep when he was free. Ahmed grinned at this and brought out his blade to cut the bonds. “Hold still, fool, or I’ll end up opening an artery.”
Eleran groaned, but held still long enough to get a hand free. He tore the gag from his mouth and groped for Ahmed’s blade. Ahmed pulled it back, smiling in good humor. “A man’s sword means something. Would you grab at my woman, too, if I had one?”
Eleran’s rage backed away, and he offered Ahmed a wry smile. “Probably.”
Ahmed relented and handed him the blade. “No wonder they didn’t include you in their plans.”
“Yeeh, that and the fact that I’m the 'paleskin',” Eleran said as he began cutting through the rest of his bonds. “Like I said, I do a lot of fighting.”
Ahmed scowled at this. It was surely true, and even something he might have done himself. But suddenly, it seemed wrong. A beast did not know it was a beast. If it had the presence of mind to object to being treated as such, then it would not be a beast.
Eleran handed him the blade back and massaged aching muscles. “Thanks.”
“Where the hell is the midwatch?”
“I dunno. I gotta take a leak, ok? Then I’ll help you look for them.”
Ahmed nodded, and the two headed up the ladder to the main deck. Eleran did his business over the side, looking about as he did so. Too late, Ahmed realized that the entire business about the rail was less biological and more scouting. When Eleran was done, he charged headlong at the mutineers’ ringleader, knocked him flat, and rained a truly impressive series of blows upon the man.
Ahmed and his people didn’t know the exact reason for the fight, but they followed decorum, gathering round in a circle and pounding rhythmically on whatever was nearby.
It became apparent very quickly that Eleran was not merely boasting when he claimed he did a lot of fighting. It was likewise apparent that the ringleader did very little. Ahmed let it go on for a bit. It was rude to interfere in a contest of fists or steel, but a contest of fists was supposed to be non-lethal.
“Enough!” Ahmed called. Eleran seemed not to hear. Ahmed stepped in and grabbed him from behind. It took three more of the Xanthians to completely restrain Eleran’s flailing fists. Ahmed put a knee on the Nihlosian’s heaving chest and looked down at him with admiration. “We will release you when your blood cools. You are a good fighter.”
Sandilianus’s head poked from below decks, followed by the rest of his body as he mounted the ladder. “Did I miss it all?”
Ahmed pointed to the ringleader. “This fool needs a medic.”
Sandilianus eyed Eleran, who was still gasping and struggling in fury. “What did he do to you?”
Eleran took a deep breath and relaxed. “What didn’t he do?” His captors, sensing he was in control once again, backed away cautiously, ready to seize him again if this were a ruse. “But lately? He took my stash, for one thing. That’s how they drugged your men.
That shit was worth a fucking month’s pay!”
The ringleader spat through bloody lips, “Fuck you, demon man dog.”
Sandilianus kicked him in the ribs, drawing a grunt from the man. “You have made enough enemies today. No need to encourage more. Now shall I throw you a beating as well, or will you have my aid?”
The ringleader snorted blood and shrugged. “I got no choice.”
Ahmed laughed. “Smart man.”
Sandilianus spoke as he worked. “We found them below, Ahmed, piled up in the sail locker, sleeping like babies. We should beat them for being stupid enough to get drugged.”
“I may just do that. Meanwhile, I have other problems. I want you and your patient in my quarters as soon as he can walk.” He turned to Eleran. “You too, ‘demon man dog’.” He chuckled. “That’s too many words for a good insult.”
Eleran shook his head, embarrassed. “Sorry about that.”
Ahmed nodded. “Don’t be.”
Sandilianus shook his head in dismay. “What I can’t understand is what you imbeciles hoped to accomplish! You were going to your deaths, fool.”
He stood leaning against the bulkhead of Ahmed’s cabin, arms crossed over his chest. Ahmed sat at a great desk, and Eleran and the ringleader occupied the two chairs facing Ahmed. The ringleader, who had identified himself as Bendaro, hunched his shoulders and scowled at the floor.
“We know how to sail,” he muttered.
“Thirty leagues of open ocean? In a fucking punt?”
Bendaro shrugged, looking more resigned now, and nodded. “We knew the risks. We ain’t gonna get sailed over the edge of the world to hell! Better to die.”
“Idiot!”
Ahmed shrugged. He had accepted the fact that he was dealing with a primitive, superstitious people. Sandilianus was still learning that. “Bendaro, if what you say is true, then why would Eleran go willingly?”
Bendaro’s head jerked up and he stared at Ahmed with wide eyes. “He is a demon like you! Why would he fear your land?”
Eleran chuckled. “If I was a demon, I’d set you on fire or something. You deserve way more than a simple beating for stealing my stuff.”
Bendaro shot him a look of pure poison, then turned back to Ahmed. “If you was really a man, and not a demon, you'd have mercy! My people believe it's true, even if it ain't. Don't you think we knew the risks?”
Ahmed slammed a fist against the desk. “And what of those you sent there yourself, dog?” he shouted. “Did you fear for them as well? What right have you to speak to me of mercy when you have none?”
Bendaro sat straight up in his seat, shaken and pale. “You know about that, huh?” he asked in a quavering voice.
“Answer the question!”
Bendaro sighed and nodded. “At first, it was only prisoners, bad men. But then the captain got greedy.” He began to shake as he spoke, pleading with his eyes for understanding. “What could we do? The captain was crazy! He even hired on a demon man to spy on us! If we didn't do like he said, he'd send us to the demons, too!”
Sandilianus rolled his eyes at the tale. “And where is this captain, hmm?”
“Fled! Over the side when you came.”
Ahmed considered the man’s tale a moment. It could be true. Perhaps they were not evil men. Just very, very stupid. He turned to Eleran. “What say you? Is this true?”
Bendaro shook his head in resignation. “If it's his to say, we're doomed. Either he is a demon and he'll screw us for fun, or he's a man and he'll screw us for revenge.”
Eleran kicked at the back of Bendaro’s chair in protest. “I may be a lot of things, but I’m no liar. Well, not unless it saves my skin, anyway.” He turned to Ahmed. “That’s pretty much how it was. The captain told them all that demon shit, threatened them with it pretty regular. All except the part about me being a demon.” He scowled at Bendaro again. “That, they came up with all on their own.”
Ahmed leaned back in his chair and looked down his nose at Bendaro. “Then you should be grateful to me for freeing you from a villain, should you not?”
Bendaro stared at the floor again, his face growing red. “If you ain't a demon, I reckon we should.”
“Then let us work together! When our mission is done here, we will want to go home. You can sail this vessel without us. You will take us home, and then the ship will be yours. We could even pay you wages once we arrive. It is a simple bargain. Surely it is less wicked than the one you struck with your captain!” They are not the real villains.
Bendaro shook his head slowly and spoke in a tired, resigned voice. “Even if I believe you, then men won't never buy it. They're afraid.”
Ahmed nodded gravely, saying nothing. He had expected such. Ilaweh was answering. I am listening. Show me the way.
Eleran cleared his throat. “Actually, I might have an idea.”
Ahmed raised an eyebrow. “Well?”
Eleran looked around nervously. “We could find crew in Nihlos. They sell prisoners all the time there. They would be rowdy, probably, but you guys look like you’re on top of that sort of thing. They wouldn’t be a bunch of superstitious fools.”
And there it is. Ilaweh shows the way.
Sandilianus scowled at this notion. “Did you not just tell us you would be killed on sight in Nihlos? So will we. Who will buy these prisoners?”
Eleran took a deep breath. “They'd have to recognize me for that to matter. I could grow a good beard, maybe color my hair. We could do it. But we’d need money.”
Ahmed chuckled sadly and ran a hand over his head in frustration. “And we have none.”
Eleran raised an eyebrow. “Wrong. We have gold. Lots of it.”
Ahmed’s eyed Eleran warily, not wanting to get his hopes up. “So you say? And where is this gold?”
Eleran pointed to the deck beneath Ahmed’s chair. “Under those boards, in a safe. I’ve seen it. I even tried to get it once or twice, but I never could open the box.”
Ahmed leapt to his feet and hurled the chair aside. He stamped a foot against the boards, and they did indeed ring hollow beneath. “Show me.”
The Nihlosian walked over to Ahmed and took a knee. He rapped his knuckles against the wood, searching. “It’s been a while. Wait…here!” He pulled at a knot in one of the planks. A small trap door, cunningly designed from whole planks so as to be invisible from above, swung back to reveal the safe Eleran had told them about.
Ahmed examined the box and hauled at it experimentally. It wouldn’t budge. “Let’s get it on deck and get a better look.”
Sandilianus stepped over and grabbed hold of the safe, and Eleran did likewise. With a great heave, the three men managed to lift it on to the deck, then sat down on the floor against the bulkhead, panting.
Ahmed spoke first. “It must weigh a ton. How much gold is in there?”
Eleran shrugged. “Uh, lots? I couldn’t exactly measure it. I wasn’t even supposed to know it was there.”
“How do we open it?”
“If I knew that, it wouldn’t be here.”
Sandilianus chuckled at this. “Aye, true.”
Ahmed studied the safe, fiddling with several dials and latches, but he could make no sense of it. “Useless. So we are back where we started.”
Bendaro cleared his throat. The three had nearly forgotten him in the excitement. “I got a deal for you.”
Ahmed glared at him, annoyed. “If your deal doesn’t include how to get into this safe, you’re going to get a second beating this morning!”
Bendaro nodded. “It does. I seen him do it lots of times. I was just too scared to take advantage of it.”
“And what is it you want in return?”
“We head back right now, as soon as you open the safe. You can hire men with the gold, and we can all go home.”
Ahmed considered a moment before answering. “If there is gold. Because if there is none, we cannot hire anyone.”
Bendaro nodded again. “Here's what you do.”
/> Ahmed followed his instructions, twisting dials, flipping switches, and finally, turning a large bolt. A low, audible click filled the small cabin, and the safe door opened to a collective gasp.
Ahmed blinked in shock, and finally managed to stammer, “Ilaweh is great!”
The safe was filled to overflowing with gold coins. Sandilianus snatched one up to bite it and verify the metal, but paused with it halfway to his face. “Ahmed, this is a sword!”
Ahmed saw that it was indeed a coin from his own land, and rifled through the others. Mixed in the safe were Gruppenwald crowns, Laurean shields, Xanthian swords, and a number of vaguely round lumps of gold scarcely worthy of the name ‘coin’.
Eleran reached into the pile and held up a coin Ahmed did not recognize. “Nihlosian, too. The captain was a busy man.”
Ahmed grinned at him. “Aye. Is it enough for a crew?”
Eleran boggled. “Are you joking? It’s enough for a hundred!” He looked back at the heap of gold. “Maybe there’s jewels, too!”
Bendaro called out, “So now we can go home, yes?”
Sandilianus looked at Bendaro as if the man were mad. “Do you not see we have found a great treasure here? You might have a share of it, and a ship if you were not a superstitious fool.”
Bendaro shook his head. “No. No more work with demons, whatever the pay.”
Sandilianus stared aghast at him for a moment, then turned back to Ahmed. “Shall we head back, then?”
Ahmed tore his attention from the box of gold with some difficulty, but there was business to attend. “I am a man of my word,” he told Bendaro. “I will take your people home, but we must acquire our new crew first. Fair enough?”
Bendaro spat in his palm and extended his hand to Ahmed. Ahmed took it and shook, sealing the deal. For the first time since Ahmed had known him, the man smiled, showing bloody teeth surrounded by swollen lips. “What course?”
Observing Eleran’s handiwork, Ahmed thought again that the Nihlosian was a fine fistsman, perhaps a match for most of his own men. “Do you know Nihlos?”
Bendaro's face grew sour at the mention of the name. “A dangerous place, but they have few ships. We can get close.”