Silo waited for a full minute, his heart pounding in his chest, then stepped boldly out from behind the door. Black Tom had heaved himself into a nearby chair and glared at him with bleary, red-rimmed eyes. He raised his hairy black eyebrow in a mute question, and Silo pulled his wanted poster from his pocket and presented it with a flourish. Black Tom smoothed the crumpled document and read. It seemed to take him a very long time, but by the time he had finished his mood had visibly improved. He smiled, and Silo winced inwardly as his horrible laughter rang out.
“Huurgh! Huur-ugh! Huur-urgh! Inciting rebellion, kidnapping, assault—and you only ten! And they’ve described you down to a T—‘wild staring blue eyes’! I remember you now from last night. You’re Aquinus the Accursed’s boy. We was talking, and then…” Black Tom looked puzzled and touched the lump on his head.
“Do you know where he is?” said Silo. For one glorious moment he had a vision of himself sailing to the rescue of the Islanders at the head of a fleet of Raiders’ ships, his father at the helm, but Black Tom’s next words snuffed out all his hopes.
“He set sail for the Us of Ay five years back. The Bucket Heads was on his trail and he’d just found out your ma was dead—there didn’t seem no point in his hanging about.”
“Do you know how he met my mother?” said Silo.
“There’s not much I don’t know about the Raiders,” said Black Tom proudly. “He met her when he was on the run. They say he was shipwrecked on the Walrus Sands and drifted for days on a raft he’d made of booze barrels. He was plagued by sharks but he turned the tables on them, clubbed one to death and ate it. And luckily he had plenty of booze to drink. And speaking of which…”
Silo picked up the empty tankard and topped it up at the bar. Black Tom drank deep, then settled himself back comfortably in his chair and continued his story.
“He was a hardy man, was your dad, and finally he washed up on a lonely marsh. And who should he meet there but your ma. A fine, handsome woman, they say, and handy with an eel spear. Well, seems she took pity on him and let him hide out at a place called Mud Island, and that’s where he told her of his long fight against the Government. And it seems she was struck by the dash of the man, and the pair of them fell in love. A strange thing, that, but the ladies was always taken with Aquinus, despite him being such a runtish little bloke.”
Silo’s heart sank. He had hoped that he was one of those small boys who suddenly shot up in their teens, but it seemed that in this, as in so many things, he was doomed to disappointment.
Black Tom was shaking his head, his monobrow creased in thought. “There’s no accounting for it,” he said. “You’d expect them to favor a fine figure of a man. Maybe a man more like meself.”
But Silo had no interest in Black Tom’s love life, or lack of it. “And then what happened?” he said.
“They got married—a secret wedding, it was, in the tradition of the Raiders. They spoke their vows, exchanged written testimonials, and received the blessing of a tribal elder.”
“What tribal elder was that?”
“A woman by the name of Mudford.”
Now Silo had the answer to a question that had long troubled him. His mother had not been a simple marsh girl. She had formed a romantic attachment to a notorious outlaw, and getting Miss Mudford to bless their marriage had been a seriously smart move. Miss Mudford had never made sense since the mud fever had settled on her brain, and no one would have been surprised if she told them that Zenda Zyco had married a Raider—or believed her either.
“This written testimonial…was it my father’s wanted poster?”
“As like as not,” said Black Tom. “Anyway, your dad regained his strength and left the marsh, said he’d return with a ship and take your ma away with him. But he had a price on his head, and they chased him the length of the land. They captured him and imprisoned him, but still he didn’t forget his promise. Finally he managed to escape, but he was a sight too late. Your ma had died of marsh sickness only months before.”
“How did he find out?”
“Man called Ruddle,” said Black Tom. “Seems that the Raiders had promised Aquinus they’d keep their ears open for news of your mother, and this Ruddle was a guide for the inspectors. A chatty man, they say, and one who liked a drink. Anyway, a friendly stranger bought him a few one evening, and asked him about the Island and how things did there. He said it was a festering bog of a place where food was short and folks could scarce read or write. And the stranger found out that your ma had died and you were left with no one to take proper care of you. Well, Aquinus was revered among the Raiders, and they’d let no child of his die of hunger or neglect, so they sent Mungo Ryker to keep an eye on you. He was tired of living on the run and needed somewhere to hide out for a spell, so it all worked out very handy.”
So that was why Ryker had come to the Island! And his first name was Mungo. No wonder he had kept it a secret.
“Why was he on the run?” asked Silo.
“Seems like he was a teacher once, and a good one at that, but the Government didn’t hold with some of the stuff he taught. He didn’t see eye to eye with them on the Ancients, so they decided he was an enemy of service and obedience and all the rest of it, and they branded him and got him chucked out of his job. People was afraid to employ him after that and he fell on hard times. And that’s when he met up with the Raiders.”
“He was a Raider, then?”
“No,” said Tom emphatically. “The man was a menace aboard a ship. If he wasn’t hauling on the wrong rope, he was falling over the side. More a thinker than a man of action, I reckon. And as to how he came to be a wanted man, it came about like this. The Bucket Heads was collecting taxes just up the coast from here, and those who couldn’t pay were rounded up and held at a fort called Deadwell. Well, the Raiders thought to put a stop to it, and it so happened that Ryker had discovered that one Captain Block from the Southern Shires was on his way to take command of this tax squad. Word was out that he was a holy terror—a little man, they said, but a mean ’un and bloodthirsty besides. So Ryker came up with a plan. They ambushed a gang of Bucket Heads. It was a fine punch-up by all accounts, and they took them completely by surprise, nicked their horses, their weapons, their dogs—”
“Why did they have dogs?” asked Silo.
“To hunt folk down,” said Black Tom. “So anyway, they left the Bucket Heads locked in a lonely pigsty and rode off on their horses. They wore their uniforms and carried their weapons, and your father rode out in front. He was the smallest man among them but he had an imposing way about him, so it seemed fitting that he should play the part of Captain Block. And they carried the banner and beat the drums and everything. Well, Deadwell was a great wooden fortress and they arrived there just before nightfall. The Bucket Heads came out to meet them, all keen to make a good showing for the great Captain Block. But they say your father gave them hell! He fixed them with his most powerful stare and told them that they was a disgrace to the nation. He said they was too soft on tax evaders, that they should make an example of them. Fact is, he told them to burn down the whole fort with everyone in it. Well, they were hesitant at first, but your dad has what you might call a powerful personality. So finally they fired up the fort. And Aquinus sent his men around to guard the back door—so none should escape the flames, he said. But of course they opened it and let all the prisoners out into the night, and they gave them the tax money for good measure. It was smart work and no mistake.”
Black Tom uttered a faint “Huurgh, huur-ugh” and drained his tankard to the dregs.
Silo was enthralled. It seemed his father was everything he could have hoped for. “Go on!” he said. “What happened next?”
“Way I heard it was this: Aquinus rides out before the blazing fort. His horse rears up beneath him and he raises his sword high above his head and cries out, ‘Justice never sleeps!’ then gallops off into the night, his friends hard on his heels. The Bucket Heads thought they was going
to hunt down more tax evaders, but of course they was making their getaway. And from that day on your father was known among the Raiders by the name his enemies called him, Aquinus the Accursed. Anyway, the very next morning the real Captain Block turned up and found the fort a smoking ruin and the prisoners and taxes missing. They say angry barely describes his feelings! So that’s how Ryker came to be a wanted man, and your dad besides.”
Glowing with pride, Silo swiftly reviewed the charges on his father’s wanted poster: dog theft, horse theft, tax theft, fire raising, impersonating a member of the armed forces, obtaining weapons by unlawful means, consorting with enemies of the state, and the destruction of government property. That seemed to cover it all nicely.
“So the Raiders took to the high seas,” continued Black Tom. “Ryker sailed with them for a while, but he missed his old teaching job, so when the Raiders heard about you being in need of care they thought he’d be happier on the Island, and safer besides. Seems like they were mistaken about that, though.”
“Why didn’t he tell me all this? About my dad and everything?”
“To protect you, is my guess. What if he’d been captured? The less you knew, the better. But the time was coming. The Raiders knew that the inspector was due back on the Island this year, and they’d be bound to ask questions about an Uplander. So they sent a ship to collect the pair of you. It was meant to pick you up from a place called Seal Point, but when it arrived there was no answer to its signals.”
Silo remembered with wonder a ship that had sailed past a few weeks after Ryker’s death, and Ben Mudford sounding the horn to warn of its approach.
“They guessed then that Ryker must be dead. What became of him?”
“He was mistaken for a muskrat and shot,” said Silo sadly. It seemed that Ryker had given up a great deal to be of service to him, and he wished above all things that he had survived to be united with his friends again.
“A muskrat?” Black Tom was thunderstruck. “No one could mistake a grown man for a muskrat!”
“You don’t know Vernon Bean,” said Silo. “He’s an idiot.”
Black Tom nodded. “Maybe. I’ve heard that Island of yours is alive with them.”
Silo had discovered much, but there was one last thing he must know. “My mother left me a message. She said I was to complete the great work my father started. What was it exactly?”
“To restore a right-thinking government to the Kingdom Isles, is my guess. That’s why Aquinus sailed to the Us of Ay. Some say it’s just a legend, but your dad thought he knew better. Said he’d found out a thing or two about the place. He said in Ancient times they called it the land of the brave and the home of the free. Well, that got him thinking. Aquinus is a brave man himself, and it struck him that if the folk as lived there was all brave and free, chances are they’d be a bit bored as well. Stands to reason—if they’re free, they’d have no one to fight, and if you’re brave, it’s nice to have a scrap to prove it every now and then. So he thought he’d sail over there and recruit them to the cause, see if he could get some of them to come back with him and help free the Kingdom Isles. But he’s been gone a long time now, so maybe he was mistaken.”
Silo was silent. Finally he had found out his father’s history and something of his character: a brave man with a wild and reckless streak, and a rebel to his heart’s core. And his mother had known this and loved him for it—no simple marsh girl she. He remembered her standing on the lookout tower staring out to sea, waiting year after year for her husband’s return until death put an end to her lonely vigil. He felt a sudden, terrible pity for her—for her and his father and himself besides. Aquinus the Accursed had chosen to fight the might of the Government, and as a result he and his little family had never known a moment’s happiness together. Silo knew that his mother was lost to him forever, and now he dreaded that his father was too, for he remembered Orlando’s words about the Us of Ay—“Most people think it doesn’t exist”—and had a terrible vision of a ship sailing on and on across a boundless ocean, searching in vain for a landfall that never came.
Parris Port was an altogether more elegant town than Mudville. The shops and inns that ringed the harbor were doing a roaring trade, and there was a great bustle of traffic as cart after cart loaded high with provisions came down to the quay to unload. The Government’s fleet was being made ready and the whole town was in turmoil. Several squadrons of collectors had arrived the previous evening and were busy rounding up seamen to crew the ships. The Government paid no wages and so the sailors were understandably reluctant; thus the streets rang to the sound of running feet, bellowed orders of command, and occasional cries of “Got one!”
Elgarth was in a shop called Marine Supplies trying on pair after pair of sea boots. He was fussy about his footwear and was debating the relative merits of leather versus canvas when Rankly materialized discreetly at his side.
“There’s a man as wants to speak to you, master.”
He indicated a disreputable-looking figure thickly covered in mud and hair and dressed in a filthy sack. Silo would have recognized him, for it was the eel trapper who had acted as his guide the previous day. Now he groped around in his sack and produced a muddy poster.
“They stuck these up all over Mudville,” he said to Elgarth. “Says there’s a reward for Silo Zyco. Happens I saw him yesterday. This bloke here”—he nodded to Rankly—“said you’d be interested. Zyco and a bunch of other kids was riding on a raft in the Gutfleet Backwaters. He admitted that he stole it, bold as brass, but then the Zycos always was a shameless crew.”
Elgarth sprang to his feet. “Do you know where he is now?”
The old man held out a filthy hand. Elgarth counted out ten crowns from his purse and handed them over. It was expensive, but he suspected it would be worth it.
“He’s at the Ship and Squid in Mudville. That’s where I sent him, anyway. He said he was looking for the Raiders.”
“Are the Raiders at Mudville?” said Elgarth eagerly.
The old man shrugged. “Doubt it. It’s been years since they berthed there. But the Sea Pig’s in the harbor—I heard them all shouting about it as I was leaving.”
“What’s special about the Sea Pig? Is her captain a Raider?”
The old man snorted derisively. “Her captain’s a drunken fool,” he said, “but he puts it about that he’s a Raider. Could be Silo Zyco believes him.”
“Go back to the start,” said Elgarth. “I want all the details—what he said, who he was with, everything.” He listened intently to the narrative that followed, and when the old man was done he said, “Does anyone else know about this?”
“Not a soul. I left Mudville as soon as I found out about the reward, and I’ve been rowing all night. You’re the only ones I’ve spoken to.”
“Well, keep it that way,” said Elgarth.
—
For Elgarth had a plan. He set off along the quay toward the Division’s flagship, the Unbeatable, with the faithful Rankly padding at his side.
“Do I keep quiet about this, master?” he said. “Could be a problem if they catch the little Crow boy, him being so gifted and all.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” said Elgarth, “and I’m not so sure now. I don’t think he’s as big a threat as I first thought. Superintendent Frisk has a very low opinion of him—he said the only thing he seemed good at was projectile vomiting.”
“Not a happy gift,” said Rankly thoughtfully.
“No. So I’m beginning to think it might be better to have Maximillian somewhere I can keep an eye on him. If he turns out to be a problem, I’m sure I can work out some way of getting rid of him.”
And Elgarth was motivated by another reason, one that remained unspoken. In truth he had no desire to compete against the greatest seer in all Mainland, but if Silo was captured, it seemed inevitable that Maximillian would be too, and that was a price that Elgarth was willing to pay—for he wanted his revenge, and badly. Word of the incident
in the Unicorn Tower had spread like wildfire: Elgarth had noticed that complete strangers whispered and sniggered behind his back, and unspeakable brown tides surged to and fro through his dreams—or rather his nightmares. This was Silo’s doing, and Elgarth meant him to pay dearly for it. As he brooded they passed a tavern, and his ears were assailed by the sound of coarse voices upraised in song:
Silo Zyco was a seer, an honor to our nation!
The Division set him working on an Ancient excavation!
They made him do their digging, but Silo set a trap
And tried to drown old Frisky in a steaming sea of—
Enraged beyond measure, Elgarth stooped, picked up a passing piglet, and hurled it through the open doorway. But the clientele was evidently accustomed to flying livestock, for the singing continued unabated.
He isn’t tall, he’s rather small, some say he is a psycho,
But if you care for freedom, drink a toast to Silo Zyco!
In his current mood Elgarth would gladly have toasted Silo Zyco, but only if it could be very, very slowly and over an open fire. But he brightened a little when he arrived at the Unbeatable, for she was a splendid ship, the largest and swiftest in the fleet, and soon he would be sailing on her. Mrs. Morgan stood on her quarterdeck, watching as some collectors prodded a herd of disgruntled seamen aboard at swordpoint.
“Mrs. Morgan!” cried Elgarth. “I’ve just had a seeing that may prove useful. Silo Zyco is at the Ship and Squid in Mudville. He’s looking for the Raiders, and Maximillian Crow is with him.”
Elgarth, like Silo, didn’t have very many seeings and was aware that the Division might find this something of a disappointment. Taking this into consideration, it seemed foolish not to use the eel trapper’s news to his advantage.
“It is as I thought, then,” said Mrs. Morgan. “A plot, and with the Raiders at the root of it! Congratulations, Elgarth—your seeing is very timely. We will apprehend Maximillian Crow and the wretched Zyco boy before we begin our island mission. Rankly! Find the admiral immediately and tell him the fleet sails upon the tide!”
Silo and the Rebel Raiders Page 16