Happenstance Found (Books of Umber #1) (5 page)

CHAPTER
6

Hap crept cautiously through the hatch,
the last one up except for Balfour, who stayed in the galley. He looked at the ocean behind them and saw the ship, still in the distance. Everyone else was at the portside railing, staring down. When Hap joined them, he saw a thin stream of red trailing the leviathan’s enormous fin.

“Boroon says something stung him,” Nima said.

“Poor fellow,” Umber replied. “Is there anything we can do?”

“It is a small cut. Normally I would not worry. It will heal quickly. But in these waters there are many …” Nima began. Her voice trailed off as she glared at something in their wake and clenched her teeth. Hap followed her line of sight and saw a black triangle in the water behind them, not far from Boroon’s tail. The word for this thing rose into his consciousness.

Shark
. Hap shivered. He knew this was a deadly, voracious creature. Worse still, a second fin appeared, farther off, and then a third.

“They smell the blood,” Nima said.

“They’re not very big,” said Umber. “Can Boroon outswim them?”

“Perhaps. But more will come.”

As if prompted by Nima’s words, a fourth shark rose from the depths, close to the wounded fin. It surged forward and snapped at the limb, and suddenly the wound that was too small to see became a hand-size crescent of raw flesh. Blood billowed into the water. Hap gasped as more fins pierced the surface, closing in on the leviathan.

Boroon knew he was being pursued. He swept his tail faster, gaining speed. There were five sharks directly behind him when he lifted his great dripping tail high over the water and slammed it down again. The slap of his fluke was like a crack of thunder, and three of the sharks bobbed senselessly in the frothing water, belly up.

“Look at the size of that one!” shouted Oates. He pointed some twenty yards away, where a new shark knifed through the water. It was a blunt-nosed brute, longer than a man was tall. The ugly predator closed in on the bloody wound, followed by what now seemed like a fleet of other sharks.

Nima dashed to a chest that was secured to the deck. She threw open a latch and swung the lid up. There was coiled rope inside, and a curved sword. She picked up both, wound one end of the rope around a cleat on the deck, and ran with the other end clenched in her fist until she’d drawn it taut, almost all the way to the prow.

“Nima, dear,” called Umber, sounding alarmed. “What are you up to?”

“Hold on to something!” Nima cried. She cupped a hand beside her mouth and sang out a high note. Boroon responded by rolling gently. Hap and the others gripped the rail to keep from sliding along the steep tilt of the deck.

Nima twisted the end of the rope around her left wrist. Hap gasped along with the others as she hopped over the railing, pulling the rope behind her.

She slid down the side of the barge and landed on Boroon’s back. With the rope in her left hand and the sword in her right, she ran across the leviathan’s side and leaped outward, swinging in a wide arc that carried her directly over the largest shark just as it prepared to sink its jaws into Boroon’s fin. Nima howled with rage as she slashed the sword across the back of the shark.

“Fancy that,” Umber said, clutching the rail.

For a moment, Hap thought the stroke had done nothing. And then a gush of red flowed out of the cut on the shark’s back. It thrashed in the water, lifting its head and snapping at the air with a frightening array of jagged teeth. The smaller sharks broke off the pursuit of Boroon and turned on their wounded brother. In moments, the sea exploded into a foaming pink mess, churned by gnashing jaws and thrashing tails.

Nima’s momentum was slowed when she slashed at the shark. She continued to swing, but dropped until her feet dangled in the water. She tucked the sword into the belt at her waist and climbed the rope with two hands until she was close to the deck. Oates reached down, put two hands under her arms, and plucked her over the railing.

“Crazy woman,” Oates said. “I could have speared that shark from here.”

“Boroon is mine to defend,” Nima said sharply. She stared at the wounded flipper and pinched her bottom lip between her teeth. Boroon seemed aware of what had happened; he rolled back to the horizontal and continued to swim.

“May I suggest?” said Umber. “You have needle and thread to repair the jolly boat’s sails, and the hammocks, I presume. We could use them to close the wound. That is, if Boroon doesn’t mind being stitched up like a pair of trousers.”

Nima looked at Umber with her head inclined, and then nodded. “I will try. And Boroon will not mind, so long as I am the tailor.”

Nima plunged into the water, bringing with her a long needle made of bone, and yards of heavy thread. She swam effortlessly down to the fin, where the shark’s bite had left a dangling flap of skin. She stitched the flesh back in place while Boroon rested. Hap and the others kept an eye out for sharks, and Oates stood with a spear, ready to heave it.

Something strange was happening, Hap realized. Nima had gone underwater to sew the wound. But she had yet to come up for air, though minutes had already passed.

“How long can she hold her breath?” Hap asked.

“What? Oh, she’s not holding her breath at all, Hap,” Umber said. “And do you know what else is interesting? Even though we haven’t moved, I don’t believe our friend has gotten any closer.”

Hap looked behind them. It was true: The pursuing craft was just as far, and just as close, as it had always been.

There was a splash below, and Nima surfaced. She gripped the dangling rope and held on while Oates hoisted her to the deck. “It worked well enough,” she said, opening her mouth to breathe deep. “Only the tiniest bleeding remains, but not enough to cause trouble, I believe.”

*     *     *

The light of day melted to red as Boroon continued to edge northward. The mysterious craft traced the same course. There was something maddening about this chase, where the distance between them never changed. Hap thumped the railing with his fist.

Umber’s head popped out of the open hatch. “Dinner, Hap!”

“Are you coming, Captain?” Hap called to Nima, who sat on the leviathan’s broad back, staring at the horizon with her chin propped on her fingers.

Nima shook her head. “I will dine later, Happenstance.”

Hap went into the hatch, and his stomach reared like a horse when he saw the feast sprawled on the table. Balfour peeled silvery skin from an enormous, sizzling fish. There were platters with boiled crabs, clams, and oysters, loaves of hot bread that unleashed plumes of steam when the crust was broken, bowls of fruit, and pitchers of wine and cider.

“Let’s not forget to thank Nima for the bounty of the sea,” Umber said. “She caught all this herself, Hap. While we ran like ninnies through the streets of Alzumar, she secured dinner on our behalf. Oates, you cretin, you might have waited until everyone was seated.”

“I was hungry,” Oates muttered through the quarter-loaf of bread he’d stuffed into his mouth.

Balfour’s mood brightened once he’d gotten Umber out of his galley, and Umber was thrilled to have a willing, curious audience for the recounting of the day’s events in Alzumar. Umber spun the tale while Oates bluntly corrected the slightest exaggeration. Sophie didn’t speak at all, though she smiled at every joke. Hap said little; he was still trying to understand the world and the company he’d been thrust into. As he listened to the others, he realized that there was something different about the way Umber talked, an accent that the others did not share.

Round, thick-glassed windows lined the wall of the central cabin. Through them, Hap saw the sky turn from red to deep blue to pure black.

Umber finally inverted his goblet over his mouth, let the last drop of wine fall, and leaned back from the table and rubbed his belly. “Glorious!” he said, followed by a sigh. “All I need now is some fresh salty air. Come, Hap, let’s see what’s become of our pursuer.”

Hap followed Umber out of the hatch. It was a warm evening, and a stronger headwind had sprung up. Now that he wasn’t looking through the gauzy glass of portholes, he could see the numberless stars that bobbed in the black firmament. Nima was at the back rail with her long hair streaming toward the wake like a pennant.

“Have we made our turn yet?” Umber asked.

Nima nodded. “It’s been dark for a while. She should be well off our trail by now.”

“She isn’t,” said Hap. Nima and Umber turned toward him. Hap shrugged. “The ship is there. Just like before.” He looked again, to be certain. By starlight, he couldn’t see it as clearly as before, but the ship was still in pursuit. No closer, no farther.

Umber answered the question that was likely on Nima’s mind. “Hap can see in the dark. If he says it’s there, you can believe him.” He looked at Hap and smiled. Hap felt a small rush of pride to have this strange but significant man, who seemed to have a world of resources at his disposal, speak for him that way.

Nima frowned into the dark. “She follows us across a pitch-black sea. And into a headwind, no less, when any other craft would fall away. There is only one way to lose her now. Lord Umber, have Balfour put out the galley fires.”

Umber bounced on his heels and nodded. “Of course, Captain! Come, Hap—it won’t do to be standing on deck soon.”

Hap felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight. He followed close behind as Umber ducked into the hatch. “Why? Why won’t it do to stand on deck?”

Umber raised a finger, telling Hap to wait. “Balfour! Out with the fires! Everyone, we’re going to submerge. Now, Hap, what were you asking? Oh, you wanted to know—”

“Submerge?”
cried Hap. “Under the water?”

Umber scratched his chin. “Does the word
submerge
have another meaning? Not in this context. Yes, Hap, under the water. But it’s nothing to fear.” On the other side of the galley doors there was a hiss of steam as water was poured over hot coals. “The leviathan barge is made for this. She was submerged when you met her, don’t you recall? And wasn’t Balfour downstairs the whole time, dry as a bone?”

“Fire’s out!” called Balfour.

“Sophie, tell Nima we’re ready,” Umber said. Sophie ran up through the hatch. “Now, Hap, I know you’re not fond of the water, but … Hap?”

Hap was sure the bones in his legs were dissolving. He staggered to the table and slumped onto a chair. Sophie came down the stairs again. Behind her, the hatch slammed shut.

Umber put a hand on Hap’s shoulder. “We’ll be fine. Boroon will make a sharp turn underwater, where this pursuer can’t see us. He’ll swim seven miles or so—that’s farther than that stranger can see in the open water.”

Hap shuddered.
Underwater for seven miles!
He seized the edge of the table as the barge lurched forward. The room tilted, and the lanterns swayed diagonally on their chains. An apple that had been left on the table rolled off and tumbled to the front of the cabin. Hap opened his mouth, forcing himself to breathe.

The others had taken seats elsewhere in the cabin. Umber sat next to Hap and clasped his arm. “We won’t dive too deep. It wouldn’t be healthy for us,” Umber said. The words failed to reassure. The foaming sea rose over the portholes, and a roar enveloped the cabin from every direction. Hap sensed the weight of the water pushing down on the barge and felt a ringing pressure in his ears. When he worked his jaw up and down, the ringing ended with a hollow
pop
.

“Almost forgot,” Umber said. “Watch this, Hap. You’ll find it interesting.” As the floor leveled off again, he stood and went to the side wall where nine hourglasses were mounted in a row. Each glass was smaller than the one on its left. Umber spun the fifth glass, and its sands poured into the empty half below. “I turn the fifth because we have five passengers,” he said. “It tells how long we can stay under before the air is used up. But it really isn’t necessary in this case. Nima will bring us up long before the sand runs out.”

“Nima?”
cried Hap, leaping up. “Nima never came down!”

“No, she didn’t,” Umber said. “But, Hap—”

“We have to help her!” Hap shouted, pointing at the hatch.

“She’s fine, Hap. Nima is … different from most people.”

“Part fish,” said Oates.

“Now, Oates,” Umber said sharply, “I’ve warned you about interjecting your blunt self into conversations. The point, Hap,” Umber said, turning back to Happenstance, “is that Nima is perfectly comfortable under the waves. You saw that yourself when she sewed up Boroon’s fin. Nima is … well, she’s …” Umber glared at Oates again, and then whispered in Hap’s ear. “She’s part fish. On her mother’s side, to be precise.”

The barge heaved to the left as Boroon made his turn. Hap heard a rhythmic
whoosh
amid the roar of water, certainly the sweep of the leviathan’s great tail. He slumped onto the bench again and took the deepest breath he could manage. Water splashed his shoulder, and he looked up and saw drops raining down from at least a dozen places, and squirting in a fine spray at the edge of the hatch. His heart tried to climb into his mouth.