Blaggard's Moon

by George Bryan Polivka

  “Coulda interpreted that myself,” Spinner Sleeve said under his breath.

  The visitors, all but Jenta and Autumn, were seated in a rough semicircle around a fire pit, facing the chieftain. The Hants had taken away all of their weapons before a word had been spoken or a gesture made, except for the shaking of, and prodding by, pointed sticks, rough iron knives, and the large, flat-bladed swords that looked more like paddles or oars. Mother and daughter were placed off to one side, seated on the ground and surrounded by warriors. These spent more time examining the confiscated weapons than they did watching their prisoners.

  The Hants wore few clothes, but much paint. Human bones seemed to be the style of the day, as all the men and women had them painted on their skin. But the chieftain was the only one whose face was blackened and then whitened again in the image of a grinning skull.

  “Tell him we come in peace, and we bring gifts,” the Whale offered in answer.

  The old man translated. Then the chief responded with, “Com hoob ano gooblee dom.”

  The translator shook his head. “He say he not want gifts from strangers of the dark world.”

  Belisar turned to smirk at his men, slinging sweat as he did. “We’re the dark world. That’s a good one.” Then to the translator, “Tell him, these are gifts for your dead.”

  When that was translated, the chieftain’s interest level noticeably improved. “Oom com say noss rum,” he offered quickly.

  Belisar looked to the drawn old man.

  He shrugged. “He says, let’s see what you have.”

  The Whale then snapped his fingers, and Blue Garvey handed him the squared-off leather pouch he wore on a lash around his neck. It looked like it might have been half of a set of old, weathered saddlebags. Belisar opened the flap and brought out a vial of liquid, a covered jar, and a cylinder wrapped in a soft cloth. He held out the vial first.

  “These are the tears of the wronged.”

  The chieftain clapped his hands even as the words were translated. A young man, a warrior by the look of him, took the vial from Belisar and handed it to his chief. The Hant held it up to the light, and looked at it carefully. He took out the stopper and smelled it. He closed his eyes. He opened them, put the stopper back in. “Kanna com toom.”

  “What else do you have?” the old man asked.

  Belisar held up the jar. “The ashes of the innocent.”

  “What does that mean, Mama?” Autumn asked. She was paying little attention to anything but her rag doll.

  “Hush,” Jenta told her. “Hush now.”

  After another inspection, the chieftain seemed equally accepting of the jar.

  Belisar unrolled the cloth, revealing a single bone, broken in two. “The bones of the faithful.”

  The chieftain examined this one for a long time. Then he looked up. “Goo ha benna deem oh rah. Doo hamma id, com ben day ho.”

  “The gifts are good,” the old man said. “He asks what you seek from the Hants.”

  “Tell him that the woman hides a secret known but to the dead. I am her chieftain. I want to know that secret.”

  After the translation, the chieftain nodded. “Hoobatoon,” he said.

  Delaney didn’t know what this meant, but he figured it out soon enough when the warriors behind them produced several long pipes, each about as big around as a man’s forearm, and lit them. They gave the first to Belisar, who smoked, and handed it back. Then they passed the others around to the men. The smoke was strong and harsh and tasted of pinecones. Several, including Delaney, coughed at the first puff. Lemmer gagged and clamped his mouth shut, looking like he might vomit.

  “Andowinnie,” the chieftain said.

  “Drink of the marsh yew,” the translator said, motioning toward a particularly scraggly bush that grew in the underbrush. It had long needles like a pine tree, but they drooped and swayed like willow leaves. The warriors passed out the smallest cups Delaney had ever seen, not much bigger than the cap of an acorn. Everyone got one of these. They drank it together. It had the same piney taste, and left a flavor of pine tar in his mouth. It also left a sticky residue on his tongue. Lemmer’s face turned white, then red, and then he broke out in a sweat. But he kept it down.

  That accomplished, the chieftain grew serious. He looked directly at Belisar. “Noo blay honto emssay kwy dendaroos.”

  The translator spoke. “The doorway to the other world opens tomorrow night. You bring dendaroos. The doomed.”

  Belisar nodded his understanding, and pointed at the woman. The others looked at one another quizzically. All but Jenta, who seemed to understand exactly what was being discussed. She watched in silence as she let Autumn spin around in circles while holding onto her finger, held above Autumn’s head.

  “You know of this,” the chieftain said through the old man. It was not a question.

  Belisar acknowledged that he did.

  The translator listened, then said, “It is required tomorow night. The Rippers of the Bone must be satisfied.”

  And then the chieftain began speaking in a low monotone. It seemed to Delaney like he was speaking something he’d memorized, like he was reciting a poem, or something from church. But the translator’s words, spoken right on top of the chieftain’s words, were unlike anything Delaney had ever heard coming from a priest. He spoke of the mermonkeys. He described in detail their attacks. He described what they looked like. He planted those images—white flesh, sharp teeth, white-hot eyes…

  Jenta began singing softly into her daughter’s ear, filling her head with music to drive out the dronings and the translated dronings. As she sang, she caught Delaney’s eye and he saw her plea once again.

  The chieftain paused, and listened. Then he stood. He walked to Jenta and squatted before her, so that he could look at her. He reached out and felt her hair.

  “What’s he doing, Mama?”

  “He wants to know a secret.”

  “Do you know the secret?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you tell him?”

  A tear welled in her eye. “I don’t know, baby.”

  “Con ben doom.”

  “It is a fair exchange,” the old man translated. “He will find her secrets.”

  Several of the warriors took Jenta by the arms. She rose with them. “You be strong, Autumn. Go now, stay with Mr. Delaney.”

  “Is he a good man, Mama?”

  “Yes,” she answered. Then she looked at the Whale, a plea and a demand at once.

  Belisar didn’t move from where he sat, didn’t change expression. But then suddenly his cheeks rose, and that pleasant, highly unpleasant look came over him. He said, “Delaney, go take care of the girl.”

  “Go, Autumn,” Jenta said.

  To Delaney’s shock, Autumn left her mother’s side and ran to him. She stood looking at him for a moment, and then sat on his lap.

  Belisar raised his bulk awkwardly, stumbled once, caught his balance, and then followed the chieftain and Jenta off into the woods. Blue Garvey followed Belisar. Then Lemmer and Sleeve looked at one another. Sleeve stood and followed as well, while Lemmer hung back.

  “Where is Mama going?” Autumn asked Delaney.

  “I…don’t know.”

  “Don’t be afraid, Mr. Delaney.”

  Delaney looked at her, wide-eyed. “I ain’t afraid. I’m jus’…I’m jus’…”

  “It’s okay to be afraid. Mama says so.”

  “I suppose she’s right about that,” Lemmer said. “Sometimes a man jus’ cain’t help it.”

  “It doesn’t matter if you feel afraid,” Autumn told Lemmer, looking into those pinpoint eyes of his, so close to the bridge of his nose, “but what matters is doing brave things. Mama says Daddy was brave.”

  “Oh, she’s right about that,” Lemmer offered. “Hardly a man braver.”

  “He went to heaven,” Autumn informed them both. “He left us behind, but he still loves us.”

  “I’m sure he does,” Lemmer said. “Yer Ma
ma ever say you’ll go see ’im someday?”

  “Yes, that’s what Mama says.”

  Lemmer gave Delaney an ugly grin. “Maybe soon?”

  Delaney moved Autumn off of his lap very gently, then stood up beside her. He took her hand. “Come on now,” he said gently. “Let’s get you safe.”

  “You’ll need a knife or somethin’,” Lemmer offered. The grin had not lessened.

  “No, I won’t,” Delaney answered.

  Lemmer looked at Delaney as though impressed. “Glad I don’t have to do that job.”

  “Ye want to come with?”

  “No!” Lemmer said immediately. “I’m fine right here.”

  Delaney made for the path back to the boats, but following it turned out to be difficult. He hadn’t brought a sword or a knife, and the scaly plants had grown back considerably. He kept wandering into underbrush too dense to pass, and having to double back. “I ain’t a woodsman, that’s fer blasted sure,” he explained to Autumn more than once. But any path through this thick tangle was noticeable, as otherwise it was nothing but thick tangle, and eventually he and Autumn emerged at the riverbank. The young guide was asleep, but he awakened and stood up like a jack-in-the-box as they approached.

  “Ye speak any a’ the Vast tongue?” Delaney demanded. He’d heard this guide mutter a few phrases, all in his own language, but he’d also seen the man respond to things said in Vast.

  The man nodded.

  “Good. Take this here little girl back downriver. Ye understand me?”

  “Not wait for others?”

  “Not wait for others. That’s jus’ exactly right. Not wait for others. You take her down fast. Ye get ‘fast’? Quick-like?”

  “Yes,” he said, pantomiming paddling his little pod at a high rate of speed. “Fast.”

  “Put ’er on the Flying Ringby. Not the dark ship, the Shalamon. Get me? Give the girl to the captain of the Flying Ringby. Not the dark ship. The light brown one.”

  He looked confused. “Not you ship?”

  “Not me ship. That’s right. And tell the captain to get her out of here. Tell him, get the girl home.”

  “She go with you?”

  “No! She no go with me. She go without me. She go with Flying Ringby.”

  “She go no with you.”

  “Right. No with me. Now. You go no with me.” He gestured as though flicking crumbs away from his place at the table.

  The man didn’t move.

  “Go! You get ‘go’?”

  “I get pay,” he said, and held out his hand, pointing to his palm.

  Delaney grimaced and grunted, fished in his pockets, pulled out his coin purse. He opened it. He took out a whole gold coin and gave it to the man.

  He looked at it.

  “Well, what’re ye waiting for now?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe I wait for others.”

  Delaney growled. He pulled out another coin. Then he put it back and grabbed the man’s hand, poured all the coins he had, another gold and six silver, into the man’s palm. “Good enough?”

  “Now I get go!” Then he scooped up the girl and put her in the pod, stepped in behind her so she was in front of him.

  “Where is he taking me, Mr. Delaney?” Autumn asked. Her big blue eyes were pleading, an expression just exactly like her mother’s had been. Except with the little girl, the clouds within them shone like a sunny sky just before a rain.

  Delaney waded into the water to stand next to her, ignoring the possibility of snakes and piranha. He leaned down, put his hands on his knees. “You gotta go back. Ye got to. Yer Mama wants it. She’ll come when she can. But you gotta go.”

  Tears welled in those eyes. The rains came within those clouds.

  “Be a brave girl, and all will be fine,” he said, as the guide paddled away. Delaney watched, feeling sick to his stomach, wishing what he said was true. The girl was in tears, her little face all bunched up and red. But she waved at him, her little hand coming up. A little blue-eyed girl in a yellow dress, sad and scared and yet trying so hard to be good.

  Delaney raised his hand to wave. But he didn’t wave. He just held it there, watching the pod skitter away around the bend. Then he looked at his boots. They were filled with water. Then he turned slowly and walked back up the path.

  He took his time. He didn’t want to know what the Hant chieftain was doing to Jenta Fellows. He didn’t want to be a part of this. But he was a part of it. The slower he walked, the angrier he got with Belisar. “What kind a’ man does such a low thing?” He meandered. He kicked at tree roots. He yanked on hanging vines, which stung his hand. He broke off sticks, swung them against tree trunks. But eventually, he made it back to camp. By that time, he hated Belisar the Whale. He hated him with a burning passion he didn’t quite understand.

  “Ye did it?” Lemmer asked, his narrow eyes fixed on Delaney.

  “Sure I did. What d’ye think?”

  “She’s dead, then?”

  Delaney shook his head. “Go stuff yerself.”

  “No need to get all fired up.”

  There was a crunching sound in the woods, footsteps. Lemmer stood, wiped his pants. They watched as Belisar and Blue Garvey emerged, followed by a couple of Hants and Sleeve. The chieftain wasn’t with them. Nor was Jenta.

  “What happened?” Delaney asked.

  “I got it. She gave up the location of the map.” The Whale seemed very pleased with himself.

  “Where is she?” he asked.

  Belisar laughed. “Where is she…that’s a good one. The Hants have her. She should have given it all up back in Mann, saved us a lot of trouble. She’d still be dead, but at least she’d be in one piece!”

  Blue and Sleeve laughed.

  “Where is it?” Lemmer asked. “The map, I mean.”

  “Hmm.” Belisar was still smiling, but his look grew darker and more distant. “That map is worth about half the gold in the world, I figure. And I’ve spent four years and many a coin finding its whereabouts. I sailed across the ocean and risked my life to gain that knowledge. And you expect me to tell you, just because you asked?”

  Lemmer’s look fell. “No,” he said conclusively. Then he looked to Delaney, trying to find some help. “It’s worth a bunch,” he explained to Delaney. “That’s why Jenta wouldn’t tell no one. She wanted the money for herself.”

  “No, she didn’t,” Belisar said.

  Lemmer’s face went slack. “She din’t?”

  “She was a good soul,” the Whale continued, “for all the good that did her. Her secrecy was meant to protect others. Bad luck for them! She left the map with people who don’t even know they have it. They have no idea what wrath is about to descend on them.”

  Delaney said nothing, but he thought of the couple on the boat, the ones who had saved Jenta and brought her to Nearing Vast.

  “Where’s the girl?” Belisar asked suddenly.

  Delaney straightened, raised his chin. “I took care of her, just like you ordered.”

  He looked at his sailor with suspicion. “You have an odd demeanor, Mr. Delaney. Is the girl dead, or not?”

  Delaney considered lying. But he couldn’t stand that smirking countenance, couldn’t stand what his captain had just done, and the evident pleasure he took in doing it. “No, she’s alive.”

  “Where is she?” He looked around him.

  Delaney crossed his arms. “You told me to take care of her, and I did.”

  Belisar motioned to Blue Garvey, who walked up to Delaney and looked down at him, much like a bear on its hind legs might look down on a fox. Or a squirrel. “Make him talk to me, Mr. Garvey.”

  “I’ll talk!” Delaney hissed. “I took her to the boats. I paid the guide to take her back downriver.”

  Belisar blanched. “You did what?”

  “You told me to take care of her, and I obeyed.”

  Belisar turned on Lemmer. “Were you part of this?”

  “No, I swear! He told me he killed her.”

&nbs
p; “I said no such thing. I said I took care of her.”

  “You’re a fool, Delaney,” Belisar breathed.

  “Did I do something wrong? Sir?”

  “Don’t think for a second that I am also a fool. I’ve seen your sad little puppy dog eyes, looking at that harlot and her spawn. Perhaps you’ve forgotten how many of your mates she and her…husband…killed. Perhaps you haven’t noticed the trouble she’s caused us, or how many of our kind, your kind, have been dying on the gallows lately, all because of Damrick Fellows and the Gatemen.” Then he smiled that cold, reptile-like smile that made the folds of flesh rise up and almost hide his eyes. “Have you forgotten?”

  “I ain’t forgot.”

  “You just chose to ignore. To ignore your duty to your captain. But you know, this might work out quite well. There’s a little place up here that the Conch discovered some years ago. Perhaps you heard the chieftain mention it. The Hants keep it just for such an occasion as this. I had timed our arrival here, expecting to offer up Mrs. Fellows. But she broke rather easily. Now, I think that the Blaggard’s Hole is calling your name, Delaney. Let me have a word with our hosts. Wait here, won’t you?”

  Blue Garvey grabbed Delaney from behind, a thick, hairy, sweaty arm under his throat.

  The drums had begun again. Delaney had been deep in thought again, and had missed when they started up again. But he heard them now, louder than ever, pounding away with their rhythmic beat, their odd offbeats. He looked around him. It was dark. He couldn’t see the shoreline. He couldn’t see where it met the water. He couldn’t see the reeds, nor the faces peering from them, if in fact the Hants were still there. He couldn’t see the river, the little creek that flowed from the pond straight in front of him. He couldn’t see the trees. He could only see the stars in one small patch of sky above him. The tiny circle of light they illuminated was the only part of the water he could see. He couldn’t see the Chompers.

  Darkness had come.

  He sighed. He’d saved the girl. He’d known just what he was doing, though he told the Captain, and himself for a while, that he’d only obeyed orders. He knew better. He’d always known better. He’d just lied to himself. He wondered how often he’d done that and not ever paid attention again. Over his lifetime, he’d probably lied to himself more than he’d lied to anyone else. Maybe more than he’d lied to everyone else combined. It seemed to him now that he’d gotten quite good at it, so good he didn’t hardly even notice it anymore.