The Tears of Sisme

by Peter Hutchinson

  That left only the forward hold. If Caldar wasn't there...! He pushed the thought away and staggered back through the crew's quarters. He was about to open the heavy hatch into the hold, when he caught a movement behind him from the corner of his eye and swung to face a bulky figure rushing at him, wielding a wicked-looking cargo hook.

  No time to draw his knife. Instead he held up the lantern and pointed to it with his other hand, hoping the stories about sailors’ fear of fire were true. His assailant stopped dead and watched as Rasscu carefully hung the lantern from an overhead hook, and with equal care turned and took off his cloak. This fool of a landlubber was preparing to fight. Well, he'd get a very nasty surprise when he felt the hook sink into his flesh. No one would hear him screaming with the storm roaring all around.

  The passenger took a sudden step forward even as he was turning round, and the sailor's eyes opened wide with shock: a knife point was pricking his chest. At a gesture from the Tesserit, the hook dropped to the deck and the man warily turned round. A moment later he was stretched out unconscious and Rasscu was climbing down into the forward hold, lantern in hand.

  At first it seemed to be all cargo again. Then he noticed, among all the ropes and chains used to fasten the crates, a row of iron collars fixed along the bulkhead. So the ship sometimes held a different kind of cargo, too. He followed the line along until it disappeared behind a large pile of bales in the corner. He worked his way around and eventually found one of the collars about a human throat.

  The captive was asleep, leaning back against the bulkhead, which was all that the collar would allow. For an instant Rasscu did not recognise him, then he realised that the thin filthy wretch with the swollen face was indeed Caldar. He knelt down in swift concern to examine him more closely and was startled when the eyes opened in their bruised hollows and regarded him calmly.

  "Hello, Rass." Nothing could be heard over the pounding of the storm and the groaning of the ship's hull, but the Tesserit saw the words mouthed and the tired smile which accompanied them. His heart lifted to perceive that his friend's spirit at least was whole.

  A quick search discovered a marline spike, then it was the work of moments to prise open a link on the short chain which held the collar. Picking up the youth's slight body, he staggered back to the ladder. With the movement of the ship growing ever wilder, the top of the ladder not only swayed through several paces from side to side, at times it even overhung. It was already clear that Caldar was very weak, too weak even to hold on to Rasscu by himself. So his rescuer hoisted him over his shoulder and set himself grimly to the climb. It became harder the higher he progressed and his muscles were cracking with fatigue before he was able to put his burden down, none too gently, on the deck of the crew's quarters.

  The sailor was still unconscious. After a brief rest, Rasscu was about to return below for his lantern, when his eye caught a coil of rope near the doorway. A quick loop around the crewman's chest, a turn around a stanchion at the ladder head, and he was lowering the man to the floor of the hold. With ruthless justice he tied him securely to the bulkhead next to the collars and departed with the lantern. It was the work of only a few minutes to carry Caldar to his cabin, although he collected several bruises shielding the youth in his arms, as he was slammed from side to side by the plunging vessel.

  Once on the bunk, the first time he had been able to lie down since leaving the Glasshouse, Caldar produced another smile and fell asleep with it still on his lips. The Tesserit looked bleakly at the thin limbs covered in sores, at the marks of savage beatings and at the iron collar. A primitive surge of ferocity welled up in him and he snarled, feeling the hairs rise all over his body. Had Bogoss been within reach at that moment, he would have died. But first there was another greater adversary which faced them all. Despite its fury the storm was unbelievably still gathering strength.

  Running before the wind with a single small sail, the ship was riding as easily as possible. Even so, the motion had grown more violent hour by hour and now the tallest waves were sending water crashing down the companionway. Rasscu decided to take a look at the situation for himself. How pointless it would have been for him to rescue Caldar if they were to drown. Just pausing to see that the youth was wrapped as tightly as possible in the bunk, he fought his way up against the next flood from above and went on deck.

  *

  The sight that greeted his landsman's eyes was of a sinking ship. A foaming mass of water was streaming out over the rails, as the ship staggered free of the last great wave. On every side the crests of the mountainous seas were torn to tatters by the furious wind. He hung on desperately as another wave sluiced over him. The ladder to the raised rear deck was a scant two paces from him and he was up it in a trice. Bent double under the assault of gale-driven spray he scuttled to the knot of figures by the wheel and, as he had expected, found Dazzak at its centre.

  The little captain was as wet as the rest of them, but he held himself braced erect and astonishingly gave the new arrival a smile.

  Rasscu put his mouth close to the captain's ear and yelled, "Are we going to survive?" The reply was an emphatic nod and an even cheerier smile. Apparently at least one man aboard was in good heart. The Tesserit drew some comfort from the fact that that man was the best seaman among them. Satisfied that he could do nothing to help above decks, he turned to go back to the cabin when fate intervened and transformed the situation in an instant.

  In a sudden blast the wind incredibly redoubled its force. Rasscu felt the air snatched from his mouth, making it hard to breathe. Even as he watched, crouched by the rail of rear deck, their only sail high on the main mast split from top to bottom and with terrible speed was reduced to fluttering rags. A moment later, with a jarring crash, felt as much as heard, the top two thirds of the foremast came down and hung over the side in a tangle of spars and cords. At once the ship began to swing inexorably broadside to the towering waves, the deck canted over under the dragging weight.

  Even to Rasscu's inexperienced eyes, the disaster was obvious. He fought his way back to the group by the wheel to see how Dazzak intended to cope. The captain had his head together with Bogoss and a couple of other seamen in what looked like a fierce argument. Dazzak gesticulated wildly, emphasising his words with chopping motions and then a stark mime of a ship sinking. The hands looked back at him with stony faces. Bogoss spoke, but the lack of agreement was clear when the captain threw up his hands in frustration and despair. The Tesserit waited no longer. Shouldering the mate aside, he placed himself next to Dazzak and shouted.

  "What needs to be done? Tell me."

  "No, Mr S’Bissi. Even … crew won't … it."

  "Tell me." Something new was arising in Rasscu, something fierce and exultant and ice-cold all at the same time. It was in his voice and was not to be denied. Dazzak gave him a penetrating look and then capitulated. He bellowed in the Tesserit's ear, even at that range some of his words snatched away by the gale.

  "Alright. …. mast come …. sea anchor....soon they ….. water and swamp us... cut it ….. dangerous. Every wave …… you."

  "Axes?" In his present mood, the Tesserit sought only action.

  "…… cargo hatch. Down there." The captain pointed to the canted deck below, awash with the foaming residue from the last wave. Without hesitating, Rasscu descended the ladder and faced the open deck.

  Down here it was clear why the seamen had refused; it looked like straightforward suicide. The ship was not pitching as before, but it was rolling as much as the deadweight of the broken mast would allow, and it jerked and plunged at the assault of the raging seas. Every wave was rolling aboard now and washing right up the sloping deck to pour over the opposite bulwarks. There was hardly time for it to withdraw, cascading out through the scuppers as the vessel lurched clear, before the next wave hung over them and the whole process began again. Anyone venturing into the ship's waist would have to withstand the repeated battering of the incoming seas, and if he lost his footing or
his hold, his chances of survival would be slim indeed.

  Again Rasscu did not hesitate. He was beyond thought, every faculty and fibre of his body functioning in instant unison at a level that so far exceeded his normal abilities as to be incomprehensible. He ran surefooted to the hatch and held on grimly as the next breaker washed over him. Moving in short bursts in the brief intervals between the waves, he seized an axe, ran to the mainmast, and finally reached the stump of the foremast. Scant feet away the great broken timber heaved and ground under the impact of the powerful rollers. It had already splintered the bulwarks to matchwood, but it could not break free, trapped by the thrashing tangle of cordage snaking down from above.

  His new awareness warning him of every danger, the Tesserit darted in and out slashing unerringly with axe or knife. Twice strained ropes parted nearby and the lethal whipping ends missed him by a fraction. Once the backflow dragged him right under the rearing monster he was trying to cut free, but he caught a strand of fallen rigging and nimbly pulled himself clear just as the enormous weight pounded back on to the deck.

  Gradually as cord after cord was severed the huge broken end of the mast moved closer to the side, until Rasscu realised that the only remaining lines which held it came from high overhead on the remaining stump. He left the axe buried in the timber and was just reaching for the first rungs of the foremast ladder when a hard hand clamped down on his shoulder and pulled him aside. A squat seaman stepped past and clambered swiftly upwards without pausing to talk. Moments later another followed, and as the landsman watched open-mouthed, they balanced high above out onto the swaying jerking yards and sliced through the cords one by one.

  With a rush and a tortured groan the broken mast slipped overboard. Released, the ship seemed to leap up higher in the water, only to roll alarmingly as it continued to take the huge seas broadside on. The seamen swung confidently down to the foot of the mast, and both turned to Rasscu with huge grins of satisfaction.

  "Goot. Breff man," the short broad-shouldered one shouted in a garbled version of Shattun. "Look."

  He pointed up at the mainmast. With disbelief the Tesserit saw the small figures swarming up the shrouds and out along the yards at a dizzying height above the deck. It seemed impossible that they should be able to hold on against the gale and the wild swings of the ship's motion. Then high on the mast a sail was unfurled and the yards swung round as the wind caught it. The swell of canvas set hard as steel and the ship heeled right over, as if the single sail would drive it under. The men at the helm struggled to bring it round and even as the vessel slowly righted itself, they saw a dark shape plummet down from overhead, falling far out into the raging water and vanishing immediately. One of the seamen had lost his hold after all.

  Once they were running before the wind again, the ship settled back into its long pitching motion. The great rollers swept up astern and rushed furiously along each side, only occasionally sending a froth of green water slapping across the centre deck. Within a couple of hours, although the seas had not abated, it was clear that the storm had passed its peak. Dazzak signed to Rasscu to accompany him to his cabin, where he neatly filled two glasses without spilling a drop.

  "Good fortune and long life, my friend," he toasted his passenger. "'Though I fear your life may be a short one if you continue to take risks like that. Believe me, I do not complain. You saved my ship. You saved our lives."

  "No more than the men who went up to set the sail. I couldn't have done that."

  Dazzak shrugged. "For a sailor it is different."

  "It cost one of them his life."

  "Three." The captain looked a little sadly at Rasscu's surprised face. "You saw one fall. Earlier one of my best men tried to follow you across the centre deck. It was foolish. We could see everything from above. You were more like a spirit than a man. Indestructible. Anyway a wave caught him in the open and smashed his head against the bulwarks. It took his body out to sea before we could reach him. The third hand has been reported missing. Three dead. It is a heavy price, but make no mistake it would have been all of us if that mast had not been cut loose. We have several feet of water to pump from the central hold already. So, Mr S’Bissi, we’re all in your debt, and I in particular. How can I repay you? Think on it."

  Dazzak was clearly not expecting an instant response, but for the Tesserit the opportunity was too good to miss.

  "A friend of mine was kidnapped and put aboard this ship in Razimir," he began, registering that the captain's surprise was obviously genuine. "I wasn't sure until today. I found him chained up in the forward hold. He's in my cabin now."

  The stout little captain dropped his head without replying. Rasscu waited, then heard, in a low grating voice, "So. It has come to this." Dazzak straightened up, tears shining in his eyes, and went on without looking at his passenger, "Bogoss. By all the gods, I’m a fool. He’s done it before, I’m sure of it. Every voyage he flouts another of my rules, usurps more authority, while I drink myself silly so I don’t have to notice."

  He looked directly at Rasscu with something like pleading in his gaze. "It doesn’t make sense to you, does it? You see he’s married to my daughter, my only child. I thought for her sake …." He broke off and passed a hand over his face, muttering "No ….No …."

  When he resumed a moment later, his voice had hardened. "A man with an evil heart spreads his influence everywhere. Leave him unchecked, and he can even sink a ship. The yellow bastard and his cronies refused even to attempt cutting the mast free today. He knew that in the end I would have to leave the helm and go myself. When a convenient wave washed me overboard, he would be the new owner." Dazzak shook his head. "Owner for half an hour. That’s the most I would have given us, if you hadn’t got through. Now, your friend. Bring him to my cabin. He’ll be safer here while I deal with Bogoss. It’s too easy to drop someone overboard in wild weather, and then they can deny everything."

  Rasscu hurried back to his cabin, made anxious by the captain's last words. He had looked in on Caldar once, about an hour ago, and found him sleeping peacefully. He was quite certain that he had shut the door tight, when he left. Now it stood ajar, swinging to the movement of the ship. He went cold with fear, when a quick glance revealed the empty bunk.

  He raced up on deck. As he emerged, he saw over to his left a group of seamen ranged near the bulwarks. They appeared to be arguing, while between them a limp figure lay on the planking. The Tesserit snatched up a cargo pole fixed to the bulkhead and ran at the group at full speed, ignoring the gale, the driven spray, the shifting deck.

  They had not even registered his presence before he burst among them to straddle Caldar's body. Most seemed too surprised to react, except the seaman at Rasscu's right side, who with an oath swung a heavy belaying pin at his head. An instant later the assailant was stretched out on the deck by a smashing blow from the pole and the Tesserit had dragged Caldar back below the poop.

  The argument raged on amongst the crew. Bogoss was not amongst them. The sailor who had previously acted as interpreter for the mate shouted in Shattun, "Give us the lad and we'll let you go." Rasscu smiled evilly and replied, "Let us go and you may live." Suddenly two seamen broke off from the others and walked unhurriedly to Rasscu's side. "Ve help," the short square one in the lead yelled, when they were close. The Tesserit recognised the pair who had finished the job of cutting free the broken foremast. It seemed he had friends.

  The rest of the crew looked uncertain at this move, and when Rasscu stepped forward with Caldar in his arms, they began to fall back to let the small party through. Then shouts from above brought them crowding back and when Bogoss sprang down the ladder from the poop, it was clear that a fight was inevitable. Four of the largest seamen stayed with the mate to attack Rasscu and his companions. The rest he sent off with a series of short fierce commands.

  "Bogoss tekks de ship," the broad sailor explained. "Tekks wheel. Tekks captain." He mimed a throat being cut.

  "You don't have to side with me,
" Rasscu began. "It may be unhealthy for you." He stopped, seeing the incomprehension on the man's face. He tried again. "Not necessary you fight for us."

  Light dawned. A gap-toothed grin preceded the reply. "Ve like fight. Also you sevvs ship.”

  There was no time for more talk. Their attackers moved in on them in a semi-circle, three carrying clubs and knives, the mate and the man beside him with broad-bladed cutlasses. The Tesserit took a two handed grip on the cargo pole and stepped forward towards the swords, leaving his new companions to confront the others. This had to be done quickly. The men whom Bogoss had despatched to take over different parts of the ship might return at any moment. Three against five were the best odds that he and his friends were going to be offered.

  He put everything out of his mind and studied the two stalking him, one from each side. Both were big men, who moved with a sailor's surefootedness over the wet pitching deck. Bogoss looked the cooler, more confident of the pair; the other man was edging in a little nervously, his free hand clenched tight by his side. Suddenly, swift as a snake, Rasscu lunged at Bogoss, the hooked end of the pole darting out at full extension. The mate reacted instinctively and leaped back with a curse. Presented with the Tesserit's unprotected left flank, the second sailor saw his chance and jumped forward, cutlass swinging viciously.

  It cut nothing but air. Rasscu had never stopped. Instead of recovering from his lunge at the mate, he leaped to his right, brought another seaman down with a lightning crack across the back of his head, drove Bogoss back again, and spun to face the cutlass wielder behind him in one continuous blur of movement.

  Better armed though he was, the man might never have closed with Rasscu. But the ship dropped away into a trough just as the Tesserit whipped round, and he lurched to one knee, dropping one hand to the deck for balance. With a cry of triumph the sailor sprang forward, raising his cutlass over his defenceless adversary. Too late he realised that the stumble had been a feint to draw him in. Again Rasscu had barely paused. The moment his opponent was committed, he drove the point of his pole with tremendous force deep into the man’s diaphragm. The seaman staggered back, his cutlass falling aside, while the Tesserit was scarcely in time to ward off a furious attack from Bogoss.