01 - Death's Messenger

by Sandy Mitchell - (ebook by Undead)

  Despite the smell he found he was smiling too, as he hunkered down in a barrel of his own and carefully pulled the lid into place above his head.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  For a long time, it seemed, nothing happened. Then Rudi heard voices approaching, muffled by the wood around him. He stilled his breath, which thanks to the stench permeating the barrel had been shallow enough already, anticipating a shout of discovery, but no one seemed to notice anything untoward. He strained his ears, managing to make out the occasional phrase through the walls of his refuge and the rhythmic thumping of other barrels being heaved aboard the cart.

  “…be miles away by now…”

  “…road wardens’ll catch up with ’em soon enough…”

  “…lucky the whole place didn’t go up…”

  Rudi smiled, despite the cramp knotting his left calf muscle and the choking stench of old oil. It seemed their ruse had worked, and the hunt had been called off. He shifted cautiously, easing the quiver away from his kidneys, and sighed with relief. Despite Hanna’s remark, he didn’t think they could remain where they were until the barrels were returned to Marienburg; the journey could take days. Nevertheless, wherever they were going there had to be some way of taking passage there…

  His speculations were abruptly cut short by a sudden jerk of movement and a call of farewell as the cart, loaded at last, lurched into motion. Any discomfort he’d felt before was only a trifle compared to what he endured now. The barrel rattled and shook, echoing loudly with every collision against its fellows. His head reeled from the noise and the smell.

  How long it lasted he couldn’t have said. Time ceased to have any meaning, passing in a blur of dimly perceived discomfort. Maybe he even dozed a little. All he knew was that the cessation of noise and motion came as abruptly as it had begun.

  Groggily he tried to concentrate on what was going on around him. There were more voices, he could hear those, and the tell-tale rattle and thump of the barrels being unloaded. Thanks to the ringing in his ears, though, he couldn’t distinguish any words.

  Suddenly he felt the barrel he was in being moved, and heard an angry grunt just the other side of the wood.

  “Sigmar’s guts, this one’s still full!” His heart lurched. In their hurry to get away he hadn’t thought this far ahead, although it was obvious in retrospect that someone would take the casks off the cart at their destination. Discovery must surely be imminent.

  “Keep your voice down!” Someone else had joined the complainer, their tone hushed. “Just get it aboard before anyone notices. We can sell it the next time we dock.”

  The barrel moved again, it was dropped precipitously, and began to roll. Rudi tumbled with it, trying to ignore the nausea which threatened to convulse his abused stomach. He hoped it would stop soon. Despite the discomfort he couldn’t help feeling another surge of optimism as he mulled over the words he’d overheard. They could mean only one thing: the barrels were being loaded aboard a riverboat. Marienburg and safety seemed closer than ever now.

  With a final thump the barrel came to rest and tipped, to his immense relief, upright. Rudi listened intently, but no one seemed too concerned to investigate their prize at the moment. No doubt they hoped to cast off and be well away before the carter or the innkeeper noticed their mistake. He hoped Hanna had been brought on board with similar discretion.

  Footsteps came and went, echoing on wooden planking, and voices shouted incomprehensible things. For a moment Rudi thought the sensation of unsteadiness he felt was a result of the rough handling he’d endured, but it didn’t seem to pass. After a while he realised what it meant. The boat was under way! Despite all the odds they’d managed to escape their pursuers again.

  He kept listening, hoping that things would go quiet so he could lift the lid of the barrel and see what was going on. The thought of fresh air was tormenting him after so long inside the cramped, foetid cask. But it seemed the task of sailing a riverboat required the constant attention of its crew.

  Footsteps approached again, and the barrel echoed to the impact of a sharp kick.

  “Herr Busch!” The voice was crisp and bore the easy authority of someone who expects to be listened to without the necessity of raising its volume. “Why are these barrels cluttering up my deck?”

  “They’re still full, skipper.” Despite the use of the title, the second speaker obviously considered himself a close enough friend of the first not to be constrained by too much formality. “There must have been some kind of mix-up at the Jolly Friar, because of all the fuss there.” The voice left off speaking to insert a throaty chuckle. “I got the lads to load ’em as quickly as possible in case somebody noticed and wanted ’em back.”

  “Good idea.” The wood of the barrel creaked as the skipper evidently leaned against it. “So why aren’t they in the hold with the others?”

  “I thought you’d be wanting to sell ’em quick, the next time we put in,” his companion explained. “Better to keep ’em separated.”

  “Well, I would.” The skipper appeared satisfied with his subordinate’s explanation. “Except that whatever’s in this, it’s definitely not fish oil.” Before Rudi could react the lid was ripped away, and two strong hands darted down to seize him under the arms. He tried to struggle, but the hours confined in such a cramped space took their immediate toll, and his arms and legs refused to obey him. Agonising cramps made his limbs tremble, and it was all he could do not to cry out as he was hauled unceremoniously upright. The barrel tipped over as his legs flailed, his bow, quiver and pack rolling out onto the deck.

  “There’s another one in here, cap’n.” A few feet away a brawny deckhand was restraining Hanna, clearly making the most of the job. He cried out suddenly as she ducked her head and bit his forearm. He was about to strike her, when the captain raised a hand to forestall him.

  “Put her down, Ansbach. She’s hardly going to run away, is she? You too, Kurt.” Rudi felt the grip around his arms disengage. He took a deep breath. The smell of fresh air was intoxicating, and he wanted to savour it. He glanced round, taking in his surroundings for the first time, and his jaw dropped.

  His first impression was that the world had turned blue. Late afternoon sunshine was striking the wooden deck of what he assumed must be a riverboat, but the solid planking surrounding him seemed tiny, no more than thirty or forty paces in length and less than half that wide. Overhead the sails snapped in a stiff breeze, like solid clouds, blotting out half the sky, and beyond the rail was nothing but blue water, in almost every direction he could see. Off to the left was a line of brown and green, dotted with thumb-sized trees and the occasional cottage seemingly built for folk the size of shrews. In the opposite direction was a faint smudge, which resembled a distant thunderhead, but ahead and behind was nothing but silver-tinted azure. Despite the situation, he thought he’d never seen anything so awe-inspiring in his life.

  “I’m Captain Jothan Shenk, master of the Reikmaiden.” The man in front of him waved an expansive hand, that took in the deck, a couple of hatch covers, and a large wooden structure like a small house perched in the middle of the boat. “The vessel on which you’ve taken passage.” He was short, wiry, and dressed in a faded blue coat, which seemed to mark his authority in some way. His hair was lank and thinning, the colour of autumn moss, and his eyes darted left and right while he was speaking. At no point did they settle on Rudi’s face. “Would you care to explain why, and how you intend to pay for the journey?”

  “We’re here by accident,” Rudi said. The fresh air was reviving him even faster than one of Hanna’s herbal preparations. He felt his habitual optimism returning. The man seemed reasonable enough. “We didn’t know the barrels were being taken aboard a boat.”

  “That’s right.” Hanna nodded vigorously. “We didn’t even know we were anywhere near a port.” To her barely-concealed irritation the men around them laughed. This attracted the attention of a couple more deckhands, who stared at them curiously fo
r a moment before resuming their duties.

  “That’s ’cause you’re not.” The man who’d hauled him out of the barrel, whose name was Kurt Busch if he’d overhead correctly, shook his head. “There’s quays and landing stages all along the banks for the local traffic.” That made sense, Rudi supposed. Carrying bulky items, like the lamp oil, would be ruinously expensive by road. It was far more sensible to take it upriver as close as possible to its final destination and transport it overland from where it could be unloaded most easily.

  “I see.” Captain Shenk nodded. “And you were in the barrels because…?” He sounded genuinely curious rather than suspicious. Rudi shrugged.

  “We had a bit of trouble at the inn. We lost all our money, and they turned nasty.” Shenk nodded sympathetically.

  “It happens. Threatened to have you arrested, did they?”

  “Yes.” Hanna nodded, turning wide and guileless eyes on the captain. “We were terrified. We’ve never been away from our village before, and we didn’t know what to do. So when the fire broke out we just ran, and hid in the first place we could find.”

  “Hoping to slip away after dark, no doubt.” Shenk nodded. Whether he believed them or not Rudi had no idea. “So where’s this village of yours then?”

  “Dreibruken,” Rudi said quickly. Shenk shrugged.

  “Never heard of it.”

  “If we could just get to Marienburg we’ll be fine from there,” Hanna put in. Shenk and Busch laughed again.

  “You’ve got some nerve, I’ll give you that.” The mate scratched his close-cropped scalp. “Passage that far doesn’t come cheap.”

  “Like I said, we’ve lost all our money.” Rudi shrugged. “We did have some pelts to sell, but they were stolen too.”

  “Maybe we could help you out somehow?” Hanna suggested. “There must be something we can do for you in return.”

  “I know what you could do for me,” the deckhand put in. Hanna glared at him, and Shenk waved a dismissive hand.

  “Still here, Ansbach? Go and find something useful to do before I get Kurt to find you a job.” The deckhand scowled, but trotted away with a final lascivious glance at the girl. Shenk smiled at her.

  “I’m sorry about that. I’m afraid I don’t hire my crew for their social graces.”

  “We’ve met worse,” Hanna assured him. Shenk shrugged.

  “Working a riverboat’s a skilled business. If you don’t learn fast, I can’t guarantee to let you work your passage all the way to Marienburg.” He smiled then, and stuck out a hand for Rudi to shake. “But I’ll give you a day or two, and see how you get on. Even if it doesn’t work out, you’ll be halfway there at least.”

  “Thank you.” Stunned at the man’s generosity, Rudi shook his hand gratefully. “We won’t let you down, I promise.”

  “I’m sure you won’t. I’m generally a good judge of character.” Shenk gestured to Busch. “Herr Busch will show you the ropes, and find somewhere for you to sleep.” He turned to Hanna. “I’m afraid we don’t have much accommodation suitable for a lady, but I’m sure we can sort something out. In the meantime, perhaps you could help the cook with the evening meal?”

  “I’d be happy to.” Hanna smiled too, and went off with the skipper. Rudi took a deep breath, and turned to Busch, who was regarding him a little more sardonically than his captain had.

  “Where do I start?” he asked.

  Despite Rudi’s forebodings the work Busch found for him seemed easy enough. It consisted mainly of carrying things, pulling on ropes when he was told to, and hauling buckets of river water up onto the deck to be emptied piecemeal with the aid of a mop. He supposed Captain Shenk must be very proud of his vessel to keep the planking so clean, and said as much to one of the crewmen who was sharing the task with him. The man laughed.

  “Don’t know much about boats, do you?” His amusement seemed friendly rather than patronising, so Rudi found it hard to resent.

  “Never even saw one before today,” he admitted, and the deckhand nodded slowly as though that was the most natural thing in the world.

  “Well, thing about boats is they’re made of timber.”

  “I’d noticed that,” Rudi said, sluicing another mopful of water across the planking. His new friend chuckled again.

  “And when timber dries out unevenly, it splits. The hull can’t get dry, so when the weather’s warm…”

  “You need to keep the deck wet,” Rudi finished. The man nodded.

  “You catch on quick. Probably a good thing.” He leaned on the handle of his mop, and brushed a fringe of brown hair out of his eyes. He darted furtive eyes one way and the other to make sure Busch hadn’t noticed he was slacking. “It’s not a bad life if you get a taste for it. Pay’s all right, the food’s free, and you get to see a bit of the world.”

  Rudi found himself considering the prospect. Keeping on the move all the time would be one way of eluding the witch hunter, and he was surprised to find how attractive the idea of seeing more of the Empire seemed. Since leaving Kohlstadt his eyes had been opened to just how big the world really was, and the more he saw of it the more eager he was to explore it properly. Then he remembered the main reason he’d resolved to head for Marienburg in the first place. All the questions he’d pushed to the back of his mind rushed forwards to fill it again, leaving him just as desperate for answers as he’d ever been. If Magnus was still alive, and could answer them, that’s where he would be. Quite how he’d manage to track the man down in such a seething metropolis was another problem entirely, but he was sure he’d work it out when they got there. After all, he’d hailed a vessel just as his friend had advised, even though it had been inadvertent…

  “Getting tired already?” Busch asked, having approached quietly while he’d been lost in his own thoughts. He started guiltily, then realised the remark had been addressed to the man he was working with. “Getting our young friend here into bad habits on his first day, Pieter?”

  “Not at all, Herr Busch,” Pieter lied at once. “I was explaining why it’s so important to do a proper job.”

  “Course you were.” Busch nodded, not fooled for a minute, and glanced across at Rudi. “Getting the hang of it?”

  “I think so.” Rudi nodded, and made a great show of swabbing the deck until the mate had gone to loom over some other crewman. Pieter shrugged.

  “Don’t let him get to you. His bark’s worse than his bite.” He returned to the task with an economy of motion that came with years of practice. “Firm but fair, you might say. A lot better than some I’ve sailed with, let me tell you.”

  “What about the captain?” Rudi asked. “He seems all right.”

  “Yes, he does,” Pieter agreed. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before going on. “But don’t let that open-handed attitude fool you. He’ll do you a good turn right enough, but he’ll expect something back by and by.” He shrugged. “No reason why he shouldn’t, either. This boat’s all he’s got, and he’ll do whatever it takes to keep her sailing, if you get my drift.”

  “I think so,” Rudi said.

  By the time they’d finished the job the sun was beginning to set, turning the water around them to the colour of blood, flecked with gold. Pieter leaned on the rail as they stowed their tools, and nodded slowly.

  “Now there’s a sight you can never get tired of.”

  “I can see why,” Rudi agreed. He’d never seen anything so spectacular in his life. It was as though the Reikmaiden was floating on liquid gold. After a moment the sun dipped a little further and the waters darkened, taking on the purple hue of a fresh bruise, and the first few stars began to appear in the sky overhead.

  “There you are.” Busch had come up behind them as they spoke. He clapped Rudi on the shoulder. “We’ve found a bit of space for a hammock in the forward hold. Your gear’s stowed under it.”

  “Thank you.” Rudi wasn’t quite sure what a hammock was, and his first sight of the hanging strip of canvas didn’t provide much of a clue. B
ut his bow, quiver, and pack were reassuringly close at hand, perched on a couple of the barrels. Another piece of canvas stretched across the narrow space a short distance away, with Hanna’s satchel resting in the middle of it.

  “You sleep in it,” Busch explained, amused at his obvious perplexity. He demonstrated by slipping in and out of it with an ease, which could only have come from years of practice. Under his encouraging, and somewhat amused, eye, Rudi squirmed his way into the thing, finding it surprisingly comfortable, albeit prone to quivering alarmingly every time he moved. He was on the verge of verifying for himself just how easy it was to fall asleep when a metallic clanging reverberated throughout the boat.

  “What’s that?” He sat up abruptly, almost falling out of the unstable contraption, and Busch laughed.

  “That’s supper, lad. Time to see if your girlfriend can earn her keep as well as you.”

  “She’s not my…” Rudi began, but Busch wasn’t listening, and he thought better of it anyway. Pretending to he siblings hadn’t helped at all at the coaching inn, and given Ansbach’s attitude towards Hanna perhaps it was no bad thing if the crew assumed she was spoken for. Besides, a sneaking little voice whispered from some where inside him, the idea that they might be more than just friends wasn’t that unpleasant, was it?

  Supper was served in the main cabin, part of the structure on the upper deck, which appeared to accommodate the entire crew. As befitted their status Busch and Shenk had private quarters partitioned off from it, the captain’s was noticeably the larger, although given the size of the boat the actual difference in dimensions couldn’t have been more than a foot or two. The other end had also been partitioned off to form the galley, from where Hanna was dispensing plates of fish stew. Everyone ate at a long table, with benches along each side. Rudi wondered where everyone slept, until he saw the row of hooks along one wall and recognised the bundles of cloth hanging from the opposite one as rolled-up hammocks.