Brotherband 3: The Hunters (12 page)

‘You’ve got a big mouth, friend. You should keep it shut.’

Nobody noticed the thin stiletto that he slid into the old man’s side. Pegleg’s gasp of pain was lost in the tavern’s babble of shouting, drunken voices. Pegleg slumped forward over the table. The swarthy man patted him cheerfully on the back.

‘Best sleep it off, old man. You’ll feel better in the morning.’

Then he hurried out of the tavern. The three Skandians were still in sight at the end of the alley, heading towards the riverfront. Staying in the shadows, he went after them.

T
here was a watchman patrolling at the foot of the jetty where
Heron
was moored. He wore a mail shirt and a shaped, hard leather helmet and carried a spear. A short sword hung from his belt. He nodded a greeting as Thorn, Hal and Stig hurried back to the ship.

The rickety jetty vibrated under their urgent footsteps. They jumped down onto the deck of the
Heron
. The others, sensing their urgency, gathered around them.

‘Have they been here?’ Stefan asked.

Thorn nodded. ‘They’re a couple of days ahead of us.’ He looked at Jesper. ‘Did you get all the supplies we needed?’ While Stig, Thorn and Hal had sought information in the taverns and eating houses, Jesper and Edvin had visited the market to restock their basic supplies.

‘Most of it. Couldn’t get coffee, unfortunately.’

Thorn grunted. ‘Can’t be helped.’

He made his way forward to where Rikard crouched, watching them. He reached into his purse and searched for a key. Then he bent and unlocked the padlock fastening the chain around Rikard’s waist. He unlocked the loop that went around the mast, coiled the chain and dropped it into the lowered section of the hull where the rowing benches were situated. Rikard regarded him with suspicion.

‘What are you doing?’ he said, not sure whether he should move or not. He’d witnessed Thorn’s lightning fast movement before and decided discretion was called for. Thorn made a shooing motion with his hand, as if Rikard were some kind of annoying insect.

‘You’re free. You told the truth, so go.’

Rikard frowned, not sure what was going on.

‘Go? Go where?’ he asked. ‘It’s the middle of the night. Where am I supposed to go?’

‘Anywhere you like. That was the deal. You tell us where Zavac is headed and I’ll set you free. Well, we know where he’s headed, so I’m keeping my part of the bargain. Go.’ He repeated the shooing gesture.

‘But . . . it’s the middle of the night,’ Rikard said once more.

Thorn shook his head impatiently. ‘You already said that. In fact, it’s relatively early for a place like this. The taverns will be open for hours yet and, frankly, I want you off this ship as soon as possible.’

The assembled crew gave a low murmur of assent. It wasn’t a friendly sound. Rikard realised he might be lucky to be leaving with a whole skin. But still he hesitated.

‘How will I get to Pragha?’ he asked. ‘I haven’t got a penny on me.’

‘I suppose you could work your way,’ Thorn said. ‘But I know that would go against your nature.’ Reluctantly, he reached into his purse and counted out three Limmatan coins, and some smaller change he’d received in the tavern. He handed it to Rikard, who looked aggrieved.

‘That’s not much,’ he complained.

Thorn stepped closer to him. When he spoke, his voice was low but full of menace.

‘It’s a darn sight better than hanging,’ Thorn said. ‘Don’t forget. That was your alternative. Of course, if you like, we could always carry out that sentence here and now.’

Rikard looked at the coins, then at Thorn. He came to a decision, putting the coins in his pocket and half running to the railing. He’d come aboard with nothing, and that was how he was leaving now. He leapt up onto the jetty, clearing the ship’s rail, and hurried away without a backward glance, as if fearing that Thorn might change his mind.

‘Don’t forget to write,’ Jesper called, waving a mocking hand. Several of the others laughed, then Hal called them to order.

‘Right!’ he said crisply. ‘Let’s get cracking! Zavac’s got several days’ lead on us and I want to catch him before he makes it to Raguza.’

The crew ran to their stations and began to ready their equipment. Attracted by the noise, the watchman made his way up the jetty and called to Hal.

‘You there! On the ship! What are you up to?’

‘We’re getting under way,’ Hal told him. But the watchman shook his head before he had finished the statement.

‘Not now, you’re not. No arrivals or departures between sunset and dawn.’

‘Don’t be absurd!’ Hal replied, with some heat. ‘There’s no reason why we shouldn’t go now.’ But the watchman was adamant.

‘There’s every reason,’ he said. ‘Council likes to know that people don’t leave in a hurry because they’ve done things they might be ashamed of. So, no night departures, understand?’

Hal sighed with exasperation. He looked up at the figure on the jetty, silhouetted against the night sky.

‘D’you think you could stop us if we really decided to go?’ he asked.

The watchman jerked his thumb at something over Hal’s shoulder. ‘I mightn’t. But they certainly could.’

Hal spun round to look. Lying out in the open water of the harbour was a guard boat – an eight-oared craft with a dozen armed men on board. Hal’s shoulders sagged.

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Yes, they could probably do the job.’ He looked around in frustration. ‘I guess we’ll stay here.’

‘I guess you will.’

On the shore, the swarthy man watched as Rikard ran along the jetty to dry land. The pirate looked back over his shoulder once, as if expecting Thorn to change his mind. Then he reached the shore and hurried away, plunging into the first side alley he saw. Anywhere to escape from Thorn’s unblinking stare.

The swarthy man’s name was Vargas and he was third mate on the
Raven
. He had stayed behind when the ship left, waiting for a supply of rope Zavac had ordered from the rope factory.
Raven
’s standing rigging, the heavy ropes that supported the mast from front to back and side to side, was frayed and old. Knowing the rope manufactory was here, Zavac had taken the opportunity to buy new supplies. It was far cheaper to buy from the manufactory than to pay the profit for traders further down the river. But the heavier cables were in short supply and he’d been unwilling to wait while they were being woven. Accordingly, he’d detailed Vargas to wait behind, hiring a fast-sailing skiff to bring them when they were ready.

They were loaded on the skiff now, coiled neatly on the decks. Vargas had intended to have one more comfortable night in Krall. But now he thought Zavac would want to know that the young crew of Skandians had discovered their whereabouts, and that they were close behind him. He knew he’d have no trouble slipping out of the port in the skiff. She was a lot harder to see than a full-size ship, after all. And she could easily be taken for one of the squid fishing boats that plied the river at night.

But, before he left, there was something he had to take care of. He’d recognised Rikard as the former mate of the
Stingray.
He had obviously betrayed the fact that the
Raven
was heading down the Dan River. Now his information had been shown to be true, they had set him free. It was just bad luck for Rikard that Vargas had witnessed his betrayal.

Vargas hated traitors.

Rikard paused, and cast an anxious look over his shoulder, as if expecting to be called back at any minute. Then he hurried round the corner into a dark alley.

And stopped short as he found himself confronted by Vargas.

‘Hullo, mate,’ the swarthy man said, smiling. ‘Recognise you, don’t I? Weren’t you with Nagy on the old
Stingray
?’

Rikard hesitated. Alexander Nagy had been the skipper of the
Stingray
. The man did look familiar, he thought. And he seemed friendly. It could be good luck to run into an old shipmate. Maybe he could help him get to Pragha.

‘That’s right,’ he replied. ‘Can’t quite place you, though. What ship were you with?’

Vargas continued to smile easily, and stepped closer. ‘I was on the
Raven
,’ he said. And he saw the quick flash of fear light the other man’s eyes – confirming his treachery. ‘The ship you just betrayed.’

He stepped forward and rammed his knife up and under the other man’s ribs, shoving and twisting until it reached, and stopped, his heart.

Rikard shuddered briefly, then staggered back as Vargas jerked the knife free. His hands went to the blood welling from the terrible wound. He gaped at Vargas, not quite understanding.

Then fell dead on the filthy cobblestones of the alley.

Vargas checked briefly to make sure he was dead. Then he turned and hurried through the darkened streets to where his skiff was moored.

‘Stow all that bedding and loose gear,’ Hal ordered. ‘Then man the oars. Stig, get ready to cast off.’

There was a sense of bustle and purpose about the
Heron
as she prepared to get under way. The sun had just risen above the eastern bank of the river, and its early morning light flooded the town. The oars rattled and clattered as the crew raised them from the bottom of the rowing well and placed them across the line of the ship, ready to run out. Stig stepped across to the jetty. The tide was full now and the ship’s rail was level with the splintered old planks. He moved to the bow rope, ready to cast it off, but Hal held up a hand.

‘Just a moment,’ he said. He’d seen a delegation approaching down the jetty, moving quickly to forestall them. For a moment, he considered casting off and getting away. But he discarded the idea. In the confines of the harbour, they’d be easily overtaken by the guard boat.

As the group of men grew closer, Thorn stepped up beside him.

‘Hello,’ he said quietly. ‘What have we here?’

There were ten armed men – soldiers of the town watch, from their uniforms – and another who was obviously their officer. Accompanying them was the toll collector they’d dealt with the day before. They strode purposefully towards the
Heron
, bypassing other ships moored on the same jetty. They stopped as they reached the little ship. The officer jerked his head at Stig.

‘Leave the ropes,’ he said curtly. ‘Get back on board.’

Stig looked as if he was about to argue. Hal knew it would be useless.

‘Do it, Stig,’ he said. His friend looked at him, then at the watch officer, then shrugged. He stepped across onto the deck of the
Heron.

The officer and toll collector did likewise. Hal raised his eyebrows. It was a breach of etiquette not to ask permission to come aboard. He felt a vague sense of worry gnawing at his insides.

Thorn stepped forward. ‘Is there some kind of problem?’

The watch captain sized him up briefly, then drew himself up to his full height. He was several inches shorter than the old sea wolf. But he could see the ragged figure had only one good arm.

‘Could be,’ he said. ‘Man was found murdered in Tinkers Alley this morning. Knifed.’

Thorn pushed out his bottom lip. ‘How does that concern us?’ he asked.

The captain scrabbled in his belt purse for a few seconds, and produced three Limmatan noble coins.