Brotherband 4: Slaves of Socorro (6 page)

‘Why don’t we just replace the bits that are frayed?’ Jesper asked as Hal approached. ‘Why replace everything?’

Of course, it would be Jesper who asked that, Hal thought.

‘Because if some of it is already frayed and weakening, it won’t be long before the rest begins to go the same way. It was set up at the same time, after all,’ Hal explained. ‘This way, we get it all done at once, instead of in dribs and drabs – and we don’t risk having something give way at an embarrassing moment.’

‘What’s a drib?’ Ulf (or perhaps it was Wulf) asked. It seemed he understood what a drab might be, but the term ‘drib’ puzzled him. His twin gave him a long-suffering look – the sort of look you’d give a little child.

‘It’s the same as a drab, only the other way around,’ Wulf said.

Ulf considered that answer for a few seconds. ‘Wouldn’t that be a bard?’

Now it was Wulf’s turn (or perhaps Ulf’s) to look puzzled. ‘Wouldn’t what be a bard? A bard is a poet.’

Ulf shook his head, clinging stubbornly to his point. ‘You said a drib was a drab, only the other way around. A drab the other way around is a bard.’

Stig and Hal exchanged looks. ‘Do you ever understand anything those two talk about?’ Hal asked his second in command. ‘Or is it just me?’

Stig shook his head. ‘It’s them. They do it on purpose to confuse people – and to annoy me.’

Hal turned to study the twins, where they were kneeling amidships, greasing one of the blocks that the halyards passed through. They did seem to be a little smug, he thought. Stig was probably right.

‘Ingvar!’ he called. The giant crewman was in the bow. He had dismounted the Mangler and was greasing the thick axle and circular rail that the giant crossbow turned upon.

‘Yes, Hal?’ Ingvar replied, looking up and peering myopically at the figure on the beach. It might be blurred, but the blur was a familiar one and he recognised his skirl.

‘If anyone mentions a drib or a drab . . . or a bard,’ Hal added for good measure, ‘I want you to throw him overboard.’ It was the standard punishment he asked Ingvar to carry out.

‘We’re ashore, Hal,’ Ingvar pointed out.

Hal nodded, conceding the point. The ship was some five metres from the water. ‘In that case, drag him down to the water and throw him in from there.’

Ingvar touched one finger to his forehead in assent. ‘Anything you say.’

Satisfied that he’d shut down the argument, Hal turned back to Stig to tell him about Erak’s summons.

‘I only wanted to know what a drib was,’ he heard one of the twins say, in an aggrieved tone.

Hal cast his eyes to the heavens. ‘Right!’ he said. ‘Ingvar?’

‘On my way, Hal.’ Ingvar moved down the deck with deceptive speed. He might be bulky and short-sighted, but the confines of
Heron
’s deck were familiar ground to him. Before the twins could escape, he had grabbed them by the scruff of their necks. They wriggled and squawked, trying to escape. But his grip was like iron.

‘It wasn’t me!’ they both protested.

Ingvar held them up, close to his face, peering at them, looking for some sign that one of them was lying. The twins continued to protest their innocence.

‘Throw them both in,’ Stig suggested.

Ingvar looked to Hal for confirmation. ‘Hal?’

Hal was beginning to smell a rat. He looked suspiciously at the other crew members. Jesper was watching the tableau with interest. But Stefan was looking away, trying to hide a smile. As Hal looked, Stefan’s shoulder shook a little as he began to laugh.

‘Ingvar,’ he called, ‘let them go.’

Ingvar was puzzled by the order. ‘Let them go, Hal?’

‘Let them go,’ Hal confirmed. ‘Throw Stefan in the harbour instead.’

Stefan half rose to his feet, galvanised with shock. ‘Me? What did I do? I didn’t do anything!’

But Ingvar had covered the short distance between them and now had his grip locked on Stefan’s collar. Ulf and Wulf rolled together in the bottom of the hull, where he had dropped them.

Ingvar climbed over the side of the hull, dropping to the sand, and dragging the struggling Stefan with him. The smaller boy kept yelling his protests until his words were blotted out by a loud splash as Ingvar, standing knee deep in the water, hoisted him above his head and hurled him several metres out.

‘That’s impressive,’ Stig said. Ingvar’s massive strength was a constant source of amazement to them all. ‘How did you know it was Stefan?’

‘He’s an expert mimic, remember,’ Hal said. ‘And Ulf and Wulf didn’t react the way they normally do. They were both saying they didn’t do it. Normally, if one of them had done it, they would each blame the other, just to confuse me. And Stefan was looking a little too amused by the whole thing.’

Stig shook his head in mock admiration. ‘I guess that’s why you’re the skirl, and the rest of us are just here to do your bidding.’

Hal shrugged. ‘Of course, I could be wrong, in which case, Stefan just got a soaking for nothing.’

Kloof!

‘I see you’ve got a dog,’ Stig said.

‘That’s very observant of you,’ Hal said. ‘Most people don’t notice her.’ He looked fondly at his dog, then the fond look gave way to an expression of alarm.

‘Hey! Stop that, you great idiot!’

Kloof had found a long-handled brush that Stig had been using to grease the rudder fastenings. She held it now between her forepaws and, with her head tilted to one side, was chewing on it vigorously. Half the handle was gone already and her paws and jowls were thickly coated with grease.

Hal grabbed the brush and tried to drag it from her. Kloof set her feet in the sand, hindquarters raised, and growled at him, pulling the other way, shaking her head in an attempt to break his grip.

‘Let go, you fool!’ Hal yelled and she finally did, sending him staggering back, tripping in the sand and falling full length. Kloof stood, wagging her tail, eager for another game.

‘Orlog blast you!’ Hal shouted. ‘You did that on purpose!’

Kloof!
said Kloof. Her paws and jowls were covered in the thick grease. Hal grabbed a cleaning rag and wiped most of it off. Kloof tried to pull away from his ministrations.

‘Look at you!’ he said angrily. ‘And I’d just got you cleaned up!’

‘Maybe Ingvar could throw her in the water,’ Stig suggested, straight-faced. Too straight-faced. Ingvar, who had returned to the ship, leaving Stefan floundering in chest-deep water, cast an appraising eye over Kloof.

‘Don’t think even I could lift her,’ he said, smiling. ‘She is a big one.’

‘Thorn says she’s a mountain dog. They use them to find people lost in the snow,’ Hal told them.

‘And then, presumably, they ride her home,’ Stig said. He held his hand down to Kloof and she whuffled at it, then allowed him to scratch her ears. ‘She’s a good dog.’

‘Trouble is, she chews things,’ Hal replied and Stig looked at him in mock disbelief.

‘She does? I hadn’t noticed. I thought that brush just wore away, I was scrubbing so hard with it.’

Hal ignored the sarcasm. ‘She’s going to be our ship’s dog,’ he said. ‘She can keep guard when we’re in foreign ports.’

‘Not a bad idea. Where did you get her?’

‘I found her on the mountain yesterday. She was pretty scruffed up and had obviously travelled quite a distance. I took her home and cleaned her up.’

‘And your mam let you keep her?’ Stig said, his eyebrows rising in surprise.

Hal put his hands on his hips and faced his friend, irritation showing in every line of his body.

‘Why do people immediately assume that I need my mam’s permission to keep a dog?’ he said belligerently.

Stig gave him a thin smile. ‘Because I know your mam, remember?’

Hal relaxed, letting the tension drain from his body. ‘Yeah, well . . . she said I could keep her. But I think it’s best if I keep them apart as much as possible.’

‘I would,’ Stig said. ‘Particularly if she chews things.’

‘That’s pretty much what I thought,’ Hal said. He glanced at the rudder fitting Stig had been working on. ‘Are you done with that?’

Stig nodded. ‘I was going to give the boys a hand tarring the standing rigging,’ he said, but Hal made a negative gesture.

‘They can look after that by themselves.’ He paused as Stefan squelched his way up the beach past them. The mimic gave Hal an aggrieved look.

‘I’m going home to put on dry clothes,’ Stefan said. ‘If that’s all right with you, skirl?’

‘Don’t be too long. I’ve got a feeling we need to get this work done as soon as we can.’

Stefan gave a surly wave as he squelched off towards the town.

Stig looked curiously at his skirl. ‘Something in the offing?’

Hal nodded. ‘I think so. Erak asked me to drop by today – said something about a job for us. Want to come along?’

Stig was already wiping his hands on a spare rag. ‘Any idea what he wants?’ he said eagerly. Like Hal, he had been chafing with the recent inactivity and the boredom of short patrols. Hal shook his head.

‘That’s all he said. Let’s go and find out what he’s got in mind.’ He paused, looking uncertainly at Kloof. ‘Think I should take her along?’

Stig considered the idea for a few seconds. ‘You’d better. If you leave her here, she might eat the ship.’

‘I
thought you were up in the mountains, hunting?’ Karina said. Lydia was sitting on the workbench in her kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee and watching as Karina deftly boned out a leg of mutton.

‘I was. I only stayed one night,’ she said.

Karina looked up curiously. ‘You usually stay out a bit longer than that, don’t you?’ She enjoyed Lydia’s company and liked the fact that the girl had chosen her as a confidante, often asking her advice about social matters in Hallasholm and, more recently, affairs of the heart.

‘I’d planned on being there for four or five days. But a bear started prowling around the cabin and I decided I might make myself scarce.’

‘That would seem to be a good idea to me,’ Karina agreed. ‘So now you have to find another way to avoid Rollond.’ She knew about Lydia’s problem with the likeable young man. Any other girl in Hallasholm would have fought tooth and nail to get his attention. But not Lydia. That was one of the things Karina liked about the girl. She was contrary, and Karina liked contrary.

Lydia sighed. ‘I saw him coming to the house this morning, with a posy of daisies. I had to sneak out the back window and come over here.’

She had never imagined that she would need her stalking skills, and her ability to use any available cover while moving cross country, to avoid the attentions of a lovestruck young man. Still, she had to admit they came in handy.

Karina turned away to hide a smile. ‘You know,’ she said, ‘it would be best if you just came out and told him you’re not interested.’

Lydia pushed herself off the bench and wandered aimlessly around the kitchen, peering into the pots and jars where Karina kept her spices and condiments.

‘Yeah, I know,’ she said. But she sounded very uncertain about it.

Karina set the first leg of mutton aside. She had trimmed the excess fat from it after she removed the bone, and then spread it out so that it formed a wide, thick slab of meat. After soaking it in a mixture of red wine and oil, fortified by her special mixture of spices, she would grill it over hot coals that evening.

‘I just can’t seem to find the right time to do it,’ Lydia continued.

‘There is no right time. It’s better to just do it quickly,’ Karina told her. ‘It’s like when a bandage sticks to a wound.’ She hefted a second leg of mutton onto her carving board and picked up her boning knife. ‘You have to pull it off quickly. It hurts for a second or two. But it’s better in the long run.’

‘I’ve tried to tell him three or four times,’ Lydia replied. ‘But he gets those big puppy dog eyes and I just can’t do it. I like him. I don’t want to hurt his feelings.’

‘You like him. No more than that?’

Lydia shook her head. ‘Definitely no more than that. He’s a nice person. He’s kind and he’s amusing and he’s very gentle . . .’

‘Good-looking, too,’ Karina said, eyeing her carefully.

Lydia shrugged. ‘Yes. He’s good-looking. But looks aren’t everything.’

‘That’s true. You want a boy who’s kind and amusing and gentle as well . . . oh, wait a minute, you said he’s all those things, didn’t you?’

The girl shook her head in frustration. ‘Yes! I did! But he still doesn’t do it for me. Don’t ask me to explain why. I don’t know. I wish I did feel more for him. It’d make things a lot simpler. And another thing,’ she added, an irritated note creeping into her voice, ‘I hate the way people just assume we’re an item.’

‘Well, tell him you just want to be friends,’ Karina said. ‘In my experience, boys hate that. Men too,’ she added thoughtfully. ‘It’s usually enough to send them running.’

Lydia pricked up her ears. ‘And just who have you sent running?’ she asked, a grin forming.

Karina shook her head. ‘Never you mind,’ she said. ‘But I’ve had my offers since my husband died.’

The grin on Lydia’s face widened and she leaned forward expectantly. ‘You have?’ she said. ‘Tell me more.’ But Karina dismissed her with a wave of her hand.

‘Never mind me. You’re going to have to tell Rollond before too much longer.’