Mad Ship

by Robin Hobb

  Keffria thought for a moment. “A note from the Satrap, in his own hand, saying he is alive and imploring aid of his nobles. I could offer to betray him.”

  “That’s not quite it.” Freye shook her head.

  Keffria suddenly knew. “My liveship,” she said quietly. “I could offer them a bargain. Ask them to rescue my family ship and husband. In return, I’d use the Vivacia to bring them up the river to where they could attack you and recapture the Satrap.”

  “That would work,” Jani Khuprus agreed reluctantly. “They’d be suspicious of you if you came just to gift them with a betrayal. But if you come asking a favor or seeking a bargain, they’ll accept your motives.”

  Polsk snorted. “It falls apart too easily. What if someone has talked to your mother? How would you come by such a note from the Satrap? All know Malta was promised to Reyn. They would not believe your sudden animosity.”

  “I believe my mother fled the city the same day I did. And I spoke to no one after the ball; we all simply vanished. I could say that we were kidnapped along with the Satrap, that my children died from their injuries, but I was held with him. I gained his trust, he wrote the note, I escaped, but I decided to betray him because I blamed him.”

  Keffria paused as her inventiveness ran out. What was she thinking? It was all too thin a weaving; any fool could see through it. The other Traders would know that, and dissuade her from going. She herself knew that she could not do it. Her sister Althea could have, even her daughter Malta had the spirit and courage. But she was only a quiet mouse of a woman, sheltered and naïve. They could all see that about her. They would never let her do it. She suddenly felt foolish for even suggesting such a laughable plan.

  Trader Polsk steepled his lean fingers on the table before him. “Very well. You’re right. Nonetheless, I insist that Trader Vestrit take a night to think this over before she commits to it. She has been through a great ordeal. Her children would be safe here, but we would be sending her into great danger, with few resources.”

  “The Kendry sails tomorrow. Could she be ready by then?” Trader Lorek pushed.

  “We still have links with slaves in some of the New Trader households. They could pass information to us. I’ll get you a list of names to commit to memory,” Trader Freye offered. She looked around the table. “We all accept, of course, that this plan must not leave this room.”

  “Of course not. I myself will speak of it only to the Kendry’s captain, to suggest that there may be a stowaway on his ship. One he should not ferret out. He can keep his crew clear of her.”

  “You will need supplies, and yet we cannot outfit you too efficiently, or your story will not ring true,” Jani worried aloud.

  “We should prepare her a bracelet. Gold, painted to look like cheap enamel. If she is threatened, she may be able to buy her life with it,” Freye added.

  Keffria listened as the plan she had suggested took shape around her. She wondered if she were the fish caught in the net, or the fisherman who had thrown it. The dread she felt was a familiar sensation; the lifting elation that accompanied it was not. What was she becoming?

  “I insist we allow her at least one night to consider this well,” Polsk repeated.

  “I will sail with the Kendry,” Keffria asserted quietly. “I leave my children in your care. I will tell them I am returning to Bingtown to persuade their grandmother to join us here. I beg you to tell them no more than that.”

  Veiled heads all around the table nodded. Jani Khuprus spoke quietly. “I only pray that we still hold Bingtown Harbor when you get there. Otherwise, this whole plan is for naught.”

  IT WAS A BLACK AND SILVER NIGHT. She supposed it was beautiful, in its own way, but Malta had no time for considering beauty in her life. Not anymore. The gleaming moon above, the rush of the deadly river below, and in between fog drifting and a light breeze blowing were all things to ignore as she focused on the gentle swaying of the bridge beneath her feet.

  It was sickening.

  There was a rope railing, but it was slack and right at the edge of the walkway. She preferred to stay to the middle of the span as she walked along carefully. She placed each of her feet carefully, to keep from making the bridge sway any more than it already was. She kept her arms crossed tightly on her chest, hugging herself. The spaced lanterns on the railing doubled and tripled her shadow, making her recall the fuzzy visions from her injury. She felt queasy.

  She heard a wild clattering of feet and Selden came racing up to her. She dropped to her hands and knees, and clutched at the planks of the bridge.

  “What are you doing?” the boy demanded. “Come on, Malta, hurry up or we’ll never get there. There’s only three more bridges, and one trolley span.”

  “Trolley span?” she asked weakly.

  “You sit in a little box and yank yourself along on a pulley sort of thing. It’s fun. You can go really fast.”

  “Can you go really slow, too?”

  “I don’t know. I never tried that.”

  “We’ll try it tonight,” she said firmly. She took a shuddering breath and came to her feet. “Selden. I’m not used to the bridges yet. Could you go more slowly and not make them swing so much?”

  “Why?”

  “So your sister doesn’t knock your head off,” she suggested.

  “You don’t mean that,” he informed her. “Besides, you’d never catch me. Here. Take my hand and don’t think about it so much. Come on.”

  His hand felt dirty and damp in hers. She held it tightly and followed him, her heart in her throat.

  “Why do you want to go into the city, anyway?”

  “I’m curious. I’d like to see it.”

  “Why didn’t Reyn take you?”

  “He didn’t have time today.”

  “Couldn’t he make time to take you tomorrow?”

  “Could we just walk and not talk?”

  “If you want.” He was silent for three breaths. “You don’t want him to know you’re doing this, do you?”

  Malta hurried after him, trying to ignore the sickening sway of the bridge. Selden seemed to have the trick of timing his stride to it. She felt that if she stumbled, she might go right over the edge. “Selden,” she asked quietly, “do you want Mama to know about you and the thick boats?”

  He didn’t reply. This bargain didn’t need to be formalized.

  The only thing worse than the bridges was the trolley span. The trolley box was made of basketwork. Selden stood up in it to work it while she sat in the saggy bottom and wondered if it were going to give way any second. She gripped the edge of the basket tightly and tried not to think what would happen if the rope gave way.

  The trolley span ended in the limbs of a great tree. A walkway spiraled around its trunk to the ground. By the time they reached the solid earth, her legs were like jelly, not just from nervousness but from the unaccustomed exercise. She looked around in the darkness, baffled. “This is the city?”

  “Not really. Most of these are buildings the Rain Wilders put up to work in. We’re on top of the old city. Come on. Follow me. I’ll show you one of the ways in.”

  The log buildings were set cheek by jowl. Selden led her through them as if they were a garden maze. Once they crossed a wider road set with torches. She concluded that there were probably more prosaic ways of reaching the buried city. They had come by the path that the children used. Selden glanced back at her as he led her on. She caught the flash of excitement in his eyes. He led her eventually to a heavy door made of logs. It was set flat to the ground like a trap door. “Help me,” he hissed.

  She shook her head. “It’s chained shut.”

  “It only looks like it is. The grown-ups don’t use this way anymore, because part of the tunnel caved in. But there’s room to get through, if you aren’t too big. Like us.”

  She crouched down beside him. The door was slippery with mold. Her fingernails slid on it, filling them with dirt. But it opened, revealing a square of deeper night. With
small hope she asked Selden, “Are there torches down there, or candles?”

  “No. You don’t need them. I’ll show you. You just touch this stuff and it lights up a little bit, but only while you’re touching it. It’s not much, but it’s enough to go by.”

  He clambered down into the darkness. An instant later, she saw a dim glow around his fingers. It was enough to outline his hand on the wall. “Come on. Hurry up.”

  He didn’t say she had to shut the door and she was glad not to. She groped her way down into the darkness. It smelled of damp and stagnant water. What was she doing? What was she thinking? She gritted her teeth and set her hand beside Selden’s. The result was astonishing. A sudden bar of light shot out from beneath her fingers. It ran the length of the tunnel before them before vanishing around a curve. Along the way, it arched over doorways. In some places, runes shone on it. She froze in astonishment.

  For a time, Selden was silent. Then he said doubtfully, “Reyn showed you how to do that, didn’t he?”

  “No. I didn’t do anything except touch it. It’s jidzin.” She cocked her head. Strains of music reached her ears from far down the hall. It was strange. She could not identify the instruments, but it was oddly familiar.

  Selden’s eyes were very wide. “Wilee told me that Reyn could make it do that, sometimes. I didn’t believe him.”

  “Maybe it just happens sometimes.”

  “Maybe,” he agreed doubtfully.

  “What is that tune? Do you know it?”

  He frowned at her. “What tune?”

  “That music. Very far away. Don’t you hear it?”

  Silence held for a long time. “No. I just hear water dripping.”

  After a moment, she asked, “Are we going to go on?”

  “Of course,” he said doubtfully. He walked more slowly now, trailing his fingers along the strip of jidzin. She followed him, copying him. “Where did you want to go?” he asked after a minute.

  “I want to go to where the dragon is buried. Do you know where that is?”

  He turned and looked at her with a furrowed brow. “A buried dragon?”

  “That’s what I heard. Do you know where that is?”

  “No.” He scratched his cheek with dirty fingers, leaving brown stripes. “I never heard of that.” He looked at his feet. “Actually, I didn’t go much past the caved-in part.”

  “Then take me there.”

  They moved in silence now. Some of the doors they passed had been broken open. Malta peered in hopefully as they passed. Most led only to collapsed chambers full of earth and roots. Two had been cleared of debris, but held nothing of interest. Thick glass windows looked out on walls of earth. They went on. Sometimes the music seemed clearer, sometimes it faded. A trick of the tunnels, she decided.

  They came to a place where the ceiling and one wall had given way. Earth had cascaded across the stone floor. With his free hand, Selden pointed up the pile of debris toward the ceiling. He whispered, “You have to climb up there and squeeze through. Wilee said it’s tight going for a short way, and then you come out again.”

  She looked up at it doubtfully. “Did you fit through there?”

  Selden looked down and shook his head. “I don’t like small places. I don’t even really like to be in here. The bridges and trolleys are more fun. Last time we were in here, there was that shake. Wilee and all of us just ran like rabbits to get out.” He seemed humiliated to admit it.

  “I’d run, too,” she assured him.

  “Let’s go back now.”

  “I’m going to go just a bit further, just to see if I can. Will you wait here for me?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “You could wait for me by the door if you want. Keep watch there?”

  “I suppose so. You know, Malta, if we get caught down here, by ourselves, like this … well, it seems somewhat rude. Different from Wilee bringing me down here. Like we’re spying on our hosts.”

  “I know what I’m doing,” she assured him. “I won’t be gone long.”

  “I hope so,” he murmured as she left him.

  For the first part, it was not so hard. She waded through the damp earth, keeping her hand on the light strip. Soon she had to crouch. Then the level of the debris covered the jidzin. Reluctantly she lifted her fingers from it. The light dimmed behind her. She set her teeth and groped her way forward on her hands and knees. She kept being tangled in her skirts until she got the knack of it. When she bumped her head on the ceiling, she stopped. Her hands were cold and the fabric of her skirt was thick and heavy with mud. How was she going to explain that? She pushed the worry aside. Too late, anyway. A little further, she told herself. She crouched lower and crawled on. Soon she was on her elbows and pushing herself along on her knees. The only sounds she could hear were her own breathing and distant dripping. She halted to catch her breath. The darkness pressed against her eyes. Suddenly the whole weight of the hill above seemed to be pressing down on her. This was ridiculous. She was going back.

  She tried to back up. Her skirt started to crawl up around her waist, and her bare knees met the cold earth. She felt like she was wallowing on her belly in mud. She halted. “Selden?”

  There was no answer. He’d probably gone back to the door as soon as she was out of sight. She set her head down on her arms and closed her eyes. Dizziness rocked her for a moment. She shouldn’t have tried this. The whole idea was stupid. What had made her think she could succeed where Reyn had failed?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  DRAGON AND SATRAP

  MALTA WAS GETTING COLD. THE DAMP EARTH BENEATH HER, more mud than soil, had saturated her clothing. The longer she was still, the more her body ached. She had to do something, go on or go back. Both options seemed too much trouble. Maybe she could just lie here until somebody else did something about it.

  As her breathing calmed, the distant music swelled. When she gave it her attention, it seemed clearer. She knew that tune. Surely, she had danced to it, a long time ago. She heard herself humming softly with it. She opened her eyes and lifted her head. Was there light ahead, or was it a trick of her mind? The pastel lights shifted when she moved her eyes. She crawled on, towards the light and the music.

  With a suddenness that surprised her, she was going downhill. She lifted her head and found there was space above her now. She started to get to her hands and knees, and abruptly slid. She went down the muddy slope on her belly like an otter. She cried out and tried to put her hands over her face. It was too reminiscent of the wildly tumbling coach. But she slid to a stop without hitting any obstacles. Her outstretched hands found shallow mud, and then cold stone. The floor of the corridor. She was past the cave-in.

  Malta was still afraid to stand. She crept, feeling before her, until she found the wall. She moved her hands up cautiously as she crouched and then stood. Suddenly her muddy fingers found the jidzin strip. As soon as she touched it, the corridor blazed with light. She squeezed her eyes shut then opened them slowly. She stared down the corridor with wondering eyes.

  Back at the entrance, the walls had been deteriorated, the friezes faded and worn. Here the light emanated not only from the strip, but also from decorative swirls in the wall. Gleaming black tiles shone on the floor. The music was louder, and she heard a woman’s peal of sudden laughter.

  She looked down at her muddy and drenched clothing. She hadn’t expected anything like this. She had thought the city would be deserted. If she ran into anyone in her bedraggled condition, what would she do? Malta smiled foolishly; she supposed she could always plead her head injury and pretend her mind was wandering. Considering her actions this evening, perhaps she was out of her mind. Her wet skirts slapped against her legs as she tiptoed down the corridor. There were doors to pass, but most of them were blessedly shut. The few open ones revealed opulent rooms, with thick rugs on the floors and startling art on the walls. She had never seen such furniture: couches that were tasseled and draped with rich fabrics, chairs she could have curl
ed up and slept in, tables that were more like pedestals. This must be the legendary wealth of the Rain Wilds. Yet she had been told no one lived in the city. She shrugged. Perhaps that meant they did not eat or sleep here. She pressed on. At some point, she decided she was not going back the way she had come, no matter what befell her. She could not force herself through that wet, muddy tunnel again. She’d find another way out.

  The music died away for a moment, then swirled back. This was another tune, but she knew it as well. She hummed with it a moment to prove she did, then a sudden chill shivered up her back. She recalled where she had heard this music before; it had been in the first dream that she had ever shared with Reyn. In the dream, she had walked with him in a silent city. Then he had brought her to a place where there was music, and light, and people talking. The music was the same; that was how she knew it.

  Still, it seemed odd she knew it so well. She felt a distant grinding through her feet, and then the floor stepped sideways underneath her. She clutched at the wall desperately. It trembled under her hand. Would the quake continue? Would the whole city fall down on top of her? Her heart hammered and her head spun. The hallway was suddenly full of people. Tall elegant women with golden skin and improbable hair swept past her, chattering gaily to one another in a language she had once known. They didn’t so much as glance at her. Their sleek skirts swept the floor yet were split to the waist. Golden legs flashed scandalously as they walked. Their perfumes were heavy and sweet.

  She swayed, blinked and was blind. She had lost the wall. She gave a soft shriek at the sudden blackness, the smell of mold and damp and the silence. There was a pebbly, sliding sound in the distance. She tottered toward the wall, caught herself against it, and the light suddenly sprang back into being. The corridor was empty in both directions. She had imagined it all. She lifted her free hand to her forehead and touched the injury there. She should not have tried this. It was too much for her. Best to find a way out, and go back to her chamber and bed. If she met anyone, she wouldn’t have to pretend that her mind was wandering. She was now seriously afraid that it was.