Doom's Break (3 page)

They used the remains of the old mast to help buttress the new one, which was slightly narrower than the old. Spars were attached, block and tackle added, and soon they were fitting the mast into the rigging of the ship, with lines fore and aft and a pair of spars.

In the meantime, Simona and Janbur went ashore and searched the island for food. They found two big stands of ripening banyam. In addition, thick-stemmed sugar grass was growing densely by the lagoon. It could be harvested and dried. It was poor quality food, but it would keep them alive if necessary.

They began harvesting banyam and sugar grass that same day. By then, Thru had another project to keep him busy. While they were carrying banyam back to the ship, Mentu had pointed out a klimm tree.

"Such wood is used for making bows. It's very springy, very strong. Has to be cut along the grain. Takes a fine hand and a good saw."

Thru visited the tree the same afternoon and came away with a pair of nice-sized branches. He cut and trimmed them, removed the bark, treated the wood with spirits, and began honing it down with a plane and a sharp knife. Since the wood could not be treated at length, or even dried out, he cut the bows deliberately large, almost bulky to the hand. They would have seemed heavy, even ugly, to his father, Ware, he thought, but Ware always used well-aged yew with its great strength and resilience. All that mattered to Thru was that these bows would drive a heavy arrow a good distance.

As the afternoon lengthened, he turned aside from the bows and prepared some stout lines for use as bow strings. He cut them precisely, worked the nocking loops up, and sewed them tight. Then he greased the string lightly and rubbed it through a cloth.

By the time the sun was dropping toward the western horizon, Thru had finished one bow and was close to being done with the other.

He had a handful of arrows, small ones designed for the little bow he'd brought all the way from Shesh Zob. Now he strung the bow and practiced with these light arrows. The bow worked well, perhaps a little clumsy in feel, but it was strong. Barely pulled halfway back, it drove one of his hunting arrows deep into the mast. Thru set it aside for the day, pleased with his efforts.

The sun slid toward the horizon. Simona and Jevvi had not returned from an expedition to the southern part of the island. Thru became concerned.

When the moon rose, Thru and Juf lowered a boat, pushed off, and rowed out toward the channel. The winds were light, and the lagoon was as calm as a lily pond. To their left loomed a continuous wall of white coral, marking the reef. To their right the land was a dark mass, fringed at the base by a strip of pale sand.

As they rowed, they discussed the likely fate of their mission.

"Well, you know what will have happened," said Juf. "They'll have got back not ten minutes after we left. That's the way it always goes."

"I know what you mean," agreed Thru.

Fool's errand or not, the night was beautiful, the rowing was not difficult, and they continued to slide south across the smooth sheet of dark water. Ahead loomed the high south point, part of an extended ridge from the central volcanic core of the island. Beyond the point, the lagoon opened out into the wider water of the channel. A slight breeze stirred the air here, and on the farther banks of coral they could see the phosphorescent glow of surf.

They came around the point and almost immediately shipped their oars.

Inside the point, anchored under the headland, was a single-masted fishing schooner. The same sort of craft that had been chasing the
Sea Wasp
.

"I don't like the look of that," muttered Thru.

"I think I know where Jevvi and Simona are," replied Juf in a somber voice.

Thru unshipped the oars and had Juf hold them while he wrapped rags around the oarlocks. When he was sure they wouldn't betray them, he rowed carefully to the ship.

There was no one visible on the deck. Thru thought it unlikely that no one was keeping watch, so he continued to approach cautiously. He slowed their approach with cautious dips of the oars. As they got closer, they caught the reek of rotten fish.

They slid in close beneath the stern of the fishing ship until they were able to actually touch the hull and hold the boat steady against it. The light was coming from a half-open port on the right side. Gruff voices were arguing up there.

Listening carefully, Thru began to make sense of the argument. His heart sank when he heard a particularly loud, deep voice break in: "Witch mark! All over her tits!"

They had captured Simona.

He made a sign to Juf and continued listening.

"Well, you fellows may do what you want," the big voice continued, "but I say she's bad luck, and we're better off selling her as untouched as possible. Take her right back to Shasht now and put her into the market. Make up for the lousy fishing we've had."

"What? And leave that barky out here? She's from that ship, what else do you think?"

"As well as the thing, the monster?"

"Well, who knows what the hell it is, but we'll cook it tomorrow and get some use out of it, eh? Haven't had meat in I don't know how long."

"Hope it's not too tough a chew," said someone.

"Heh, heh, we tenderized it pretty well, I'd say."

"Enough! What if we can find that barky? We could be selling a barky and a few more slaves."

"So we'll look around tomorrow. But I don't see any harm in poking the girl. That's all that's coming for her anyway, once she's sold."

"Look, if we all use her every day from now until when we get her to the market, she's going to be worn out. If you want good gold for her, then we have to agree to leave her alone."

"Ach, how often do we get a chance to poke something this good?"

Thru listened with deepening foreboding. Then he shifted forward to whisper to Juf.

Shortly afterward, he left the boat and began to climb up the side of the ship's stern. Over his shoulder he took the new bow, with six shafts in a small quiver tied high on his belt.

Juf remained where he was, hidden under the stern in case any of the crew came on deck.

The vessel was somewhat smaller than the
Sea Wasp
. Once Thru could peer over the top of the gunwale, he sized up the situation. The ship was steered by a tiller that ran out to a cockpit set under the foreside of the sterncastle. The small upper deck was bare except for a rail and lines running up to the mast. In the cockpit was the watch, a single man smoking a pipe.

Upon closer study, Thru realized the watch at the tiller was far more attuned to the argument going on in the big room behind him than to the ship and its surroundings.

"Witch mark!" yelled another voice down below.

There was a loud chorus of groans.

Thru found a useful seam in the outer hull near the gunwale and slid around from the sterncastle to the waist of the ship. He pulled himself over the gunwale and slipped silently into the foresection. The watch had not seen him.

The fishing boat was a popular type, with a small hold forward for the catch. The man at the tiller guarded the dark entranceway leading to the interior cabins inside the sterncastle. The men arguing over Simona's fate were somewhere behind him. So, most likely, was Simona herself. Thru cast a prayer to the Spirit that she wasn't able to hear their horrible talk.

Thru's nose twitched. The foul fishy smell was coming from the bow. He moved silently forward. The mainsail was furled, and a long, dark object was hanging from the mast on a line run to the forespit. He frowned and hoped it was not too late.

By the side of the ship, near a coil of rope, he found the source of the stink, a chum pot the size of a man's head. Thru peered over the side. The water in this cove was deep, and the fishermen had anchored close to the shore. It was no more than forty feet to the narrow strand of moonlit sand. Thru nodded to himself.

Then he went back to investigate the hanging object.

As he had feared, it turned out to be poor Jevvi Panst, strung up by his heels. However, he was not dead. Thru detected a pulse, faint but steady.

A glance showed him that the man at the tiller was still engrossed in the argument. Emboldened, Thru hunted along the side of the forward hold. He found a sail cache and pulled out a heavy bundle of spare jib sails. Bound up, he imagined, they were not too different in shape from a badly beaten mot hanging by his heels.

Thru returned to the mast, selected a line that would normally raise a sail, and tied the bag full of jibs to it. Carefully he hauled it up and swung it close to the hanging shape of poor Jevvi.

When it was parked next to the mot, he tied the line on a cleat at the side rail. He lowered the line bearing Jevvi and slowly laid him out onto the deck. Jevvi sputtered once, then returned to silence. Thru listened to his breathing, slow, shallow, but steady.

A sudden noise came from the tiller side, a loud grunt, as of disapproval. Thru froze. Had the watch noticed something at last? Thru peered over the nearside sail cache and was reassured. The man had simply reacted to something said in the backroom. Thru returned to his task.

With Jevvi lowered to the deck, Thru could see more clearly the extent of his injuries. He had been beaten to a pulp. Staying low, Thru pulled Jevvi across the deck to the side while keeping the mast and the pin rail directly between himself and the man at the tiller. Thru dared a quick look over the side.

Down below, Juf saw him at once and silently moved the boat over so it was directly beneath.

Thru took hold of Jevvi and lifted him into his arms, then set him on the rail. Jevvi was a deadweight, but lighter than Thru had expected. Working the line through a cleat on the rail, he carefully lowered the injured mot down the side of the fishing ship until he felt Juf take hold. Thru cut the line and tied it off at the cleat.

Now he slid back toward the man at the tiller, who was turned halfway into the passage so he could hear more clearly what was being said. They were arguing about who would get the first turn with the girl. They had decided that they would all have a turn with her, but then they would leave her be until she was sold at the slave market. A drawing of straws was proposed, then the throwing of dice. Each concept had its supporters.

Thru crept closer, behind the ship's small boat, which was stowed aboard by the mast. He was wondering if he would be able to shoot the fellow without alerting the others. Then he could get past him to investigate the cabin where, he suspected, Simona was being kept.

Just then, however, a door opened, and two other men emerged to stand in the cockpit by the tiller rod.

"Hey, Mergas, you get fourth turn. All right by you?" said one of them.

"And Tricko gets first, I suppose?"

"No, he came second this time. Supor gets the cherry."

"Well, well, well, that makes a change."

Thru crouched down, ready to nock an arrow if he had to. But the men opened another door and disappeared inside for a moment, then reappeared carrying bottles.

"Oh, drinking up the wine, too, are we?" said the man at the tiller.

"You'll get your glassful, Mergas, don't worry."

"Just my luck to pull watch on this night."

"You're always griping, Mergas, you know that?"

Another door opened and closed.

The one addressed as Mergas gave a sigh and stepped into the cockpit and looked around.

Nothing struck him as being out of place at first, but then he spotted a line left tied to the side-rail cleat. Mergas stepped forward, intent on tidying up that line.

Thru fell back, hiding behind the pin rail until Mergas passed. Then he rose and struck the man on the back of the head with a wooden bucket. Mergas fell to the deck and did not move.

The man was heavy, much heavier than Jevvi Panst. Thru got a shoulder under the weight and, staggering a little, dragged the body forward and laid it down near the chum pot.

Then he hurried back to try the doors of the cabins.

A rumble of voices arose in the cabin on the left side as he stepped into the dark passage. He froze for a moment, ears straining. But the rumble merely presaged a coarse bellow of laughter.

"Holds liquor by its ears!" roared a voice, and the laughter redoubled.

On the right were two doors, a small one, which obviously led to a closet of some kind, and a full-size one leading to a cabin.

He tried them both. The smaller one opened easily and revealed tools and bottles set inside container rails. Furled sailcloth was stacked in bolts at the back. The larger door was locked. After quick examination, Thru saw that it was stoutly made and would resist his efforts to kick it in. Long before he could rescue Simona, the other men would take him prisoner, too.

He backed down the passage to the cockpit and took a look over the side. The ports on that side were shuttered and fastened from within. There was no easy way to get inside that cabin.

At the bow he took another look at the nearby land. Forest came down right to the edge, with trees forcing their way out over the rocks. The nearest was no more than fifty feet away.

That gave him an idea. Thru lifted the big coil of rope at the bow and tossed it down to Juf. Then he wound a line around the chum pot and carefully lowered it over the side. Juf received the smelly pot of fish guts with both big eyebrows lofted in curiosity.

After recovering his bow, Thru climbed over the side. When he was down, Juf pushed the boat out from the ship and then began to row, with care but with power, to take them back out of the cove and around the point.

"You will leave me on the far side of the point, then go back to the
Sea Wasp
. They must raise the anchor and bring her down here."

"What will you do?"

"They have locked Simona in a cabin. To free her we have to distract these pirates and then board them."

Juf, still puzzled, looked to the pot of chum. Thru turned to him with a grim smile.

"I'm going to make things interesting for them. Which is why you must press on as hard as you can. Tell Mentu to make haste. It won't take long, I think, to get things stirring."