She didn’t comment as she double-checked Spicy’s work before retiring back to her spot at the bow. Again, they ate a cold supper from the abundant stores. Spicy stuck to the fish. He placed a bundle by the hold for Fath, and there it remained.
After everyone settled in, Alma lit a lamp and hung it from a ring on the prow. The sparkling orange flame shed enough light that their boat would be visible to anyone nearby. Spicy disentangled himself from the cluster of slumbering goblins and joined her.
“Why are you doing that?” Spicy asked.
She adjusted the lamp. “From this point on, if you want to avoid other traders or anyone surprising you, it’s best to let them know you’re there. One light means you’ve claimed a mooring spot. Two means you’re seeking trade.”
“Why bother? I haven’t seen anyone in the water.”
“I have.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because you’re trusting me to pilot this ship.”
“That’s no answer.”
“Listen, goblin, if I wanted to screw you, I’d have sailed us straight at Orchard and abandoned you adrift there. I’m cooperating. I’m taking you where you need to go, and this is the best way to keep us safe and free from any hassles. Anyone out there up to no good will see that we’re not hiding but we don’t want company.”
He studied the water in search of other boats. But it was too dark.
After they settled in, he watched with some amusement as the woman got Blades to remove his black shirt.
“It’s filthy and you smell” was her only comment.
She washed it in seawater and then hoisted it up above their sail to dry. He never got it back and Alma never took it down.
Later that night he rose to pee. Their lamp had died down and had almost exhausted its oil. Alma and Blades were asleep. Out beyond the curtain of willow branches were more lights, three of them. He watched until they vanished. Then he realized he wasn’t sure if it meant three boats or just one, and what did three lamps mean, anyway?
There were other boats visible in the water the next morning. As Alma got theirs sailing across the waves, Spicy saw a handful of smaller vessels, some stationary, some making their way through the mist. A few men were fishing nearby. Alma steered clear. Spicy fought off the yawns and remained vigilant.
A boat with two sails on a high mast appeared behind them. By noon it had vanished, but as the day cleared and the sun shone, he spotted it. Alma didn’t appear to notice. Or she was deliberately ignoring whoever was following them. Spicy kept watch until the trailing boat fell out of sight, and it didn’t reappear.
They navigated between several wooded islands. The water had many patches of reeds and other aquatic vegetation. Birds, too. More birds than Spicy had ever seen before. Spicy scribbled out a rough map, re-creating much of what he could from memory and, if he was being honest, felt pretty good about the end product. The only thing missing was the location of Devil Mountain. Fath would have to guide them for the last leg of their journey, but he still slept. Spicy knew he would have to wake him.
Flora and Eve wanted a turn drawing. He gave them his charcoal pencil once he was finished, which resulted in a fight until he broke the pencil in two. Soon the girls were filling in the characters Fath had scratched into the aft deck, while the other three children nagged them for their own turn at the new activity.
When a longer shoreline became visible, he went to Alma, who sat crouched near the boom.
“We’re avoiding all the towns, remember?”
“Easy enough,” she said. “And our final destination puts us where?”
“Do you have a compass?”
“I know these waters.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Spicy’s comment got Blades’s attention. The man rose from his makeshift bed. He was still shirtless and wore his black jacket without it, his pale, hairless chest open to the breeze. Spicy took a step back until he was at the aft deck. Rime and the children grew quiet.
“You’ll mind your manners, gob,” Blades said.
Spicy placed his hand on top of the opening to the hold where Fath lay.
Blades stopped, his jaw clenching. “You won’t always have a dragon or troll with you.”
“But for now, I do.”
Rime nudged Spicy. He had come up next to him, a knife in hand. Blades rolled his eyes and backed away.
“We’ll continue through the islands,” Alma said. “But tomorrow we’ll come to some major landmasses and you’ll have to tell me which way to turn.”
With that, she let out a secondary sail and they continued across the water until the sun began to set.
A rowboat and a few huts on stilts spotted in the late afternoon had been the last signs of any humans. They had continued a half hour past sunset before finding a suitable tiny island to tie in to. Rime set out food for the goblins to eat. At the front half of the boat, Blades was having trouble with a jar of olives. He also had a bottle of wine, which he had been drinking from since they had stopped.
The fog had returned. In the far gloom came the twinkle of a distant lantern. Alma brought out her lamp and prepared to light it. Spicy went forward and, before Alma could stop him, took the lamp away.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“How about no signal tonight?”
“I thought you wanted to avoid other people. This is how we do it here.”
He took the lamp with him to the back of the boat. “According to you. Let’s take the chance of someone accidentally bumping into us. From now on, no more lights.”
“You really are letting this go to your head, gob,” Blades said. He was standing but had to lean on the rail. His foot knocked another empty wine bottle aside.
“Blades…” Alma said.
He held a hand up. “Don’t worry, I got this. Me and Spicy the magic goblin are just having a conversation.” He came forward one careful step at a time.
“He’s drunk,” Rime said.
Blades nodded. “I keep hoping I’d wake up and find you all gone. But here we are. And now you’re giving orders like you’re actually someone. But you’re not. You’re just a little nothing with no soul and no purpose but to get underfoot and stink up the place.”
“It’s your kind that smells,” Spicy said.
Blades held out his hand. “Give me the lamp.”
Spicy chucked it over the side and it splashed into the water.
A scowl crossed the mercenary’s face. He lunged for Spicy. Spicy leapt back and slapped a fist on the deck above where Fath was sleeping.
Blades froze. Then, after waiting a moment, he stepped forward and gave Spicy a hard shove, knocking him down.
“Pet’s still hibernating,” Blades said. He climbed up to the top of the deck and snatched up Pix. Pix screamed and squirmed.
Rime grabbed the boat hook. “Put him down!”
Spicy picked up the closest weapon he could find: the empty wine bottle.
Pix wailed as Blades dangled him over the side.
“Lots of snakes in the water,” Blades said. “Probably fish with big teeth, too. I hear the delta even has freshwater sharks. Lots of things that might tear a goblin to pieces in seconds, and I’ll bet they’re all down there waiting.”
Spicy got ready to throw the bottle. “You drop him, you’re going in next.”
“You think you’re good enough to do that?”
“Blades,” Alma said, “knock it off.”
“I’m just having fun.” He shook Pix one final time before setting him on the deck. Pix ran to Rime, who pulled him out of the man’s reach.
Blades gave a backward wave and went back to his blankets.
Alma grabbed the partially drained wine bottle before he could pick it up. “That’s enough of that. Settle down or you’re off the boat.”
“Give me my bottle.”
She poured it out into the water. Blades looked like he might attack her, but instead he plopped do
wn on his bed and began to bundle up. Spicy kept an eye on him until it sounded like he was asleep.
Rime handed a still-hyperventilating Pix over to Dill, who took over comforting him.
“Why didn’t the dragon wake up?” Rime whispered.
Spicy shook his head. “Maybe he doesn’t consider this important enough. As long as someone gets him where he’s going, he won’t be bothered.”
Domino was crouched down and reaching into the hold where Fath lay.
Rime snapped his fingers. “Dom, stay out of there.”
“But he’s warm.”
“It’s not safe. Come on.” He scooped her up and placed her down in their own cluster of blankets.
“I know why you can’t wake him,” Domino said in her chirping voice.
“Why’s that, honey?” Spicy asked.
“He’s dream-time sleeping. And he won’t wake up until he comes back. Like Mommy.”
Spicy looked at Rime. While many of the faces of the dead had become a blur, Domino’s mother had distinctly been among those slain by the raiders. Domino went to bed without any fuss.
Once Spicy was alone with Rime, he asked, “What did you tell her, Rime?”
“Something for her to hang on to. We have to tell them something. It’s what I’ve been doing this whole time. So when do we get off this boat? Where are we even going?”
Spicy thought of several lies and picked one.
Chapter Forty
The black flag made from Blades’s shirt worked like a charm.
The lamp might have attracted the pirates sooner, but the goblin had smashed it and raised a fuss. Alma knew, just like anyone who plied the water of the delta, that a light shined prominently from a docked boat meant trade. Most boats didn’t carry a second light. There was no “leave me alone” signal.
But the black flag was a more deliberate signal, a warning—and, in Alma’s case, an invitation.
The shores had eyes. It had only taken a half day to attract the wanted attention. The two-sail single-mast vessel had caught up with them, its own black flag flying in response. The black shirt on their own mast meant her boat, unknown to the locals, was stolen or she had high-priority merchandise that needed to exchange hands quickly. It also indicated she was one of them. If this couldn’t be proven or the pirates were particularly nasty, they might take whatever they wanted without compensation.
Alma took some comfort in the knowledge that the delta, although large, was its own community with rules and reputations to uphold. Pirates were first and foremost traders who needed each other. But calling it a brotherhood was a stretch. That was for children’s books, and Alma had no illusions. She knew she might be summoning her doom.
Again, her hand touched the glyph on the bow. Once choices were made, all that was left was for the dice to land.
She recognized the black flag once it got closer. A bony hand with an upturned middle finger.
“I’ve never heard you swear like that,” Blades said.
She hadn’t realized she had been speaking out loud.
He staggered next to her and peered across the water at the approaching boat. “Is that who you were expecting?”
“They’ll do,” Alma said. “Keep your wits. And mind your tongue. Let me do the talking.”
“Yeah, whatever. It’ll be nice to get off the water and away from that thing.”
She followed his gaze as he looked back at the aft cabin. The dragon was still tucked in its hold. The goblins all appeared sick. Spicy and the other goblin boy were doing their best to care for them and hadn’t noticed the oncoming boat.
“Can I get my shirt back?”
“Leave it.”
Blades looked like he was about to say something when he leaned over the side and vomited. Of all the men Alma had served with, she marveled that he had survived where so many others hadn’t. But soon she would be free of him, free of the dragon, and very, very wealthy.
The boat that followed kept pace and made no attempt to overtake them. Perhaps its captain wanted to see if she knew where she was going. She did. Though the landscape shifted with the changing tide, she recognized enough of it to know she was on course.
***
A few low hills separated the narrowing waterways. The muddy bottom of the channel was now visible in many places and Alma reined in their speed. The trees rose higher and grew thick patches of moss and droopy, dangling vines.
Blades had slept in during all the morning’s boat preparations and only now rose to once again plunder his pickle jar. Spicy had helped as much as he could but Dill was vomiting and Pix couldn’t stop coughing, so he assisted Rime in comforting them as best as possible. By late morning, all five children were sullen and miserable.
They had emerged out onto a wide waterway. The wind had almost died away. It was Blades’s turn to start throwing up. He still wasn’t wearing his shirt.
“Why is that still up there?” Spicy asked Alma.
The arms of the shirt had been tied off and it flapped like a flag.
“For luck,” Alma said.
“Take it down. I don’t like it up there.”
She didn’t respond, keeping a hand on the boom as she stared ahead. There would be no way to get the shirt without untying ropes. He was about to shimmy up the pole when she announced, “We’re close.”
“What do you mean, we’re close? You don’t know where we’re going. How can you possibly—”
That was when Blades hit him over the head with something hard and everything went black.
***
The other goblins hadn’t noticed Blades knock Spicy down and tie him up. Rime had a blanket wrapped around him and was busy helping one of the girls with her shoes. The rest were bundled up on their bed.
Alma headed to the back of the boat and brought out a tarp. She shoved Rime down with the others. When he began to protest, she put a finger to her lips.
“Shh. Another ship is here. You’ll need to be quiet. Put this over you.”
The children began to cry and speak all at the same time.
“What? Wait!” Rime said. “Where’s Spicy?”
She threw the tarp over them. “Don’t make a sound. Don’t move a muscle. They’re going to board us. If they know goblins are aboard, they’ll kill us all. I’m going to have to talk to them and bribe them with some of our goods. No peeking.”
She waved Blades forward. He dragged over a pair of folded nets, which they unpacked and spread over the aft hold’s entrance. Moving quickly, they began to secure the edges of the net, tying it to as many sections of the rail as possible. It wouldn’t hold the dragon long, but it would buy a few precious seconds. Alma then dropped her sail. The boat slowed. They hurried to the bow and waited as the oncoming pirate vessel closed in.
Chapter Forty-One
“Your man looks sick,” the man named Wes said as he looked Blades over.
Wes was bald and muscular and oddly free of markings, tattoos, or piercings. Blades had needed help stepping aboard the pirate vessel. He looked pale. Their own boat was being tied on so it could be towed. One pirate brought Spicy over, still unconscious, but the other goblins were being left behind.
Alma tried to step past Wes but he blocked her way.
“Let me see your captain,” Alma said.
“He’s busy. You’ll bargain with me.”
She looked him over. “If you’re the man with the coin, so be it. But this is more than the goods on board or even the price of the prize vessel. There’s something in the hold he’ll want to hear about.”
“I’m listening,” Wes said with a suggestive purr. “That’s all that matters.”
“I’m not going to waste my time. If this is still Middle Finger’s boat, then he’ll have final say. You don’t have enough coin in your general kitty to cover your end. I don’t want you to lose face.”
“How do you know I don’t have enough in my sack for a little number like yours?”
Alma sighed. The men on boa
rd the Sin Nombre all appeared keen on the conversation. As far as they were concerned, there might be two throats to cut and a decent boat with cargo to sell. Alma had never met Wes. And if there was a new captain, all bets were off.
“The captain of the Sin Nombre never gave his second more than two hundred tencoin. Maybe that’s gone up since I left, but I doubt it.”
Wes scowled. “You served on the Sin Nombre? I don’t remember you.”
“Slightly different flag, completely different boat, and not that many seasons ago. Which means you’re new. Now, Mr. Wes, will you please inform the captain we need to talk?”
“He can’t right now.” He nodded to a nearby sailor. The man brought a small coffer over and held it open. Four purses were inside. “There’s your two hundred. Let’s call it a deposit on the boat. The rest of the goods and whatever your special item is can wait until we make Bird’s Landing.”
He offered a hand. She shook it.
“One other thing,” she said. “You’ll want some archers on your stern who know how to shoot.”
Captain Middle Finger’s cabin was spacious for a delta boat, with enough room for a desk and a single large chair where a man wearing thick bifocals sat. The glasses magnified the pirate’s eyes as he looked up at Alma and Wes. Middle Finger then returned his attention to an array of tiny scraps of paper. He wrote with a quill pen, dipping it frequently into an inkwell. His movements were frantic and he scribbled erratically, switching between the papers as if composing separate letters simultaneously. His lips moved as he worked.
Wes cleared his throat. “Sir, the captain of the captured vessel is here.”
Middle Finger ignored him.
“Prize vessel,” Alma corrected. “Captain, I served with you before your promotion under Captain Hill. Back then, the Sin Nombre was a longboat with a cracked and banded mast.”
The Goblin Reign Boxed Set Page 38