The Balance of Power (Godsland Series: Books Four, Five, and Six) (51 page)

* * *

Timbers creaked as a still-distant storm drove larger waves into Maiden Harbor, and time was running short. Becker Dan had few options, and all eyes rested on him. "The cap'n should've been back long before now, and I think we all know he ain't comin' today."

A murmur ran through the crew like an ugly undercurrent, one that could pull him under and keep him there. "He ain't comin'," Becker repeated. "I want 'im to just as much as any of you. I'm just being a realist. The slip fees are overdue, we've no more food, and if we stay here, we'll lose the ship. That ain't gonna help the cap'n none. I ain't sayin' we take the ship fer ourselves; I'm just sayin' we should take her off shore, do some fishin', and tie up where we ain't gotta pay."

Another murmur ran through the crew; this one more to Becker's liking, but nothing was certain yet. He'd been on this ship for more than two decades, and he knew this was what the captain would want. Even if his friend was dead, which he suspected, there was the chance his daughter lived, and Becker would do everything within his power to preserve her inheritance. The thoughts nearly brought tears to his eyes, but he would show no weakness before the crew. It was one thing to convince them to take the ship, but it was completely another thing to get them to follow him and continue to be faithful to the rightful captain. He was skating at the edge of mutiny, and he knew it.

"This ship's got history," he continued, "and family, and all of you are part of that family; even those who've not been on the ship all that long are part of that family." There was little response to those words, and they sounded hollow even to Becker. Mate Filps spoke from behind a crowd of men, only his familiar voice letting Becker know who it was. "So we just fish and tie off until the cap'n comes to find us?"

"Yes," Becker said, thankful for Filps.

"And we'll still get paid?" came the voice of one of the newer crew members, who was also concealed behind shipmates.

Filps was a small man and could easily disappear into the crowd, but this man seemed to be hiding toward a purpose. Such cowardice was unbecoming a sailor, and Becker made a mental note to replace the young man, even if it was outside his purview. The circumstances dictated that he take on more power than his position would allow. He'd not declare himself captain of this ship, but he would do what he had to in order to keep her afloat. "If we fish, we can earn money and get paid. It's hard work and we're not set up for large-scale fishing, but it could earn us some coin while we wait for the cap'n to return."

"So let's do what we are set up for, then," Mord said, his deep voice carrying with it the confidence of authority; he'd been on this ship for nearly as long as Becker, though he held the captain in much lower regard. If there was a threat of mutiny, Mord would be at its heart.

"With every operation, we risk losing the ship," Becker said. "That's a risk the cap'n is willing to take but not one that I'm comfortable taking on his behalf."

Mord said no more, but the looks he cast about were cause for concern, and the nods he got in return were even more disconcerting. Becker was amazed at how quickly they could go from a close-knit and functioning crew to the edge of mutiny. If ever there was a time that he'd appreciated the captain, now was the time, and he prayed the man would return no matter how unlikely he knew that to be.

Under the orders of her first mate, the
Maker's Mark
set sail.

* * *

Weaving in and out of the trees, Allette did her best to follow Rastas, but he was too quick; only the fact that he had to stop for frequent breaks allowed her to catch up with the wily beast. Thundegar had sent them out after herbs, which grew in the wild, and Rastas seemed only to want to play. This was Allette's third time away from the glade without Thundegar, and she did not want to disappoint him. Her strength had returned, and now she could be of real use to him. He'd taken care of her, and she felt compelled to repay that debt in one way or another.

A myriad of thoughts bombarded her consciousness, and she walked without really seeing the world around her. She'd found a semblance of happiness here, but she would not be satisfied until she found her way back to the
Maker's Mark.
She also wanted to know what had happened to her father, but that seemed a far less likely outcome. The men who'd taken her father remained a mystery, but she did know where his cargo had ended up. Though she knew not the figurine's function, the fact that it seemed to have decided her fate gave her no reason to think its purpose noble. It had seemed such an innocent thing the first time she'd seen it, but now she knew that it was much more. One day, she vowed, she would hold that figurine again, no matter what it took. The people of the Heights had taken everything from her, and she would know why.

A gnarled hand reached from the thick growth and wrapped around her wrist, the grip painful. Allette let out a cry and tried to pull away but could not.

"Hold," Thundegar said, and Allette slowly relaxed. "How many times have I told you not to think and walk? Just walk. If you think and walk, you don't heed what your eyes see. What do your eyes see?"

It took Allette a moment to see what he was talking about, but when she did, she was grateful the old man had been there for her. Nearly blending in with the vine around which it was curled, a good sized wood viper watched her from about eye level. Allette might not have walked straight into it, but as Thundegar had told her before, the highly venomous snakes were always prickly and would strike on the slightest provocation.

Rastas appeared on the trail ahead, looking annoyed that Allette had ruined their game.

"How long have you been watching us?" Allette asked, embarrassed.

"The whole time," Thundegar said, and Allette flushed. "You do remember what I sent you after, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," Allette said, and she turned to go, but then she stopped and spun to face him, unable to keep her curiosity under control. "Why do you stay here?" she asked before he could walk away.

"Where would I go?"

There was pain in his words, more pain than Allette had been prepared for, and she asked no more. Instead, she reached down and picked at a nearby cluster of leaves, eyes open and senses engaged. Rastas crouched beside a nearby tree, nearly blending in. Allette gave him a playful look, and he wiggled his rear end before leaping out to get her. When he reached her, the cat sprang into the air and kicked off of her thighs with his powerful hind legs.

Thundegar shook his head. "Crazy cat."

"What kind of cat is he?"

"Cloud cat," he said. "This is the only place they live, and only high up where the clouds are closer. Down lower is the domain of the bigger predators."

"Like wolves."

"Wolves, indeed, and bigger cats and snakes and a host of things you don't want to run into. That's just in the forest; below, in the Jaga, there're more things that'll kill you than those that won't. Up here it's wet, but there is much less chance of being eaten while you sleep."

That thought made Allette shudder.

"That's why I grew the fence. I needed a sturdy, permanent barrier to keep the big predators out. Everything grows fast here, especially if you give it light. It took a lot of work, and I nearly killed myself a half dozen times, but I managed."

"Where did you live while this place grew?"

The silence hung for a while, and Thundegar looked as if he were reliving painful memories. "Here and there," he finally said. "This is far more manageable. And most of the critters respect my boundaries. Rastas can handle small trespassers, and the two of us can handle most others. Sometimes, though, all you can do is hide."

The last part was said in almost a whisper, and it frightened Allette more than anything else.

"If the black dragons ever come, hide in the water," Thundegar blurted a moment later. "Don't try to fight them. Just run. The river is south of here or west. They don't come often, but I wanted to make sure you knew what to do."

"Yes, sir."

"Stop. Dig these two plants up by their roots. Don't break the root."

Allette handed him the brimleaf, as he called it. The plants to which he pointed were unfriendly looking with long, pointy stalks that appeared to have a knife's edge. Wanting to avoid those edges, Allette wrapped her hands around the base.

"That's it," Thundegar said. "Squeeze them together and mind the edges. That's it. Now work it side to side. Easy . . . easy . . ."

It was difficult not to snap at the man while she struggled, but Allette kept her mouth shut and worked the dangerous stalks back and forth. There was a snap that she felt in her hands, and the stalks came free with a suddenness she hadn't been expecting. Thundegar jumped back, making certain to stay clear of the needlelike points.

"Sorry," Allette said, but he said nothing. Setting the first aside, Allette wrapped her hands carefully around the second plant, again being extra careful around the stalks. Visions of the sharp plants severing her flesh kept running through her mind, and she took extra care. After wiggling it back and forth, she felt a similar snap, but this time she was prepared for it, and Thundegar didn't have to take evasive action. Rastas watched from nearby, looking bored.

"Watch," Thundegar said. Using the flat of his palm, he pressed down on the stalks, just above the root. He took out his knife and cut straight down just past his hand. "Up and down," he said. "Side to side is a good way to end up with bloody fingers. Understand?"

Allette nodded and he handed her the knife once he'd finished separating stalk from root. It was tougher cutting than it looked, and Allette grunted with the effort. Normally she would have drawn the knife backward as she cut, but Thundegar's warning was fresh. Soon she had her own root cut free. "That was a lot of work for something that doesn't look very tasty."

"Perhaps," Thundegar said as he turned and moved back toward his home.

His home, not her home. He'd taken her in, but this was not where she belonged. This would never be her home, she told herself. Someday she would make it back to her ship, and her father would be there, and everything would be as it should. It was a meager hope, but it took root and drove her forward.

Rastas bolted past her as they approached the glade and was the first there. He crouched down and moved into the glade as if there could be any manner of predator waiting, and Allette knew it to be true, which made it all the more frightening to watch. But then Rastas was back and bouncing sideways at them with his ears pinned.

"Get in there, you crazy cat," Thundegar said, but Allette knew the man would be lost without his companion. The two of them made an effective team, and she was just there to make things awkward. These two had a rhythm, a routine that worked for them, and she could only imagine how disrupting her presence must be. Not for the first time, she was grateful for Thundegar and Rastas.

"Thank you," she said, a catch in her voice.

"For what?"

"For everything," she said. "For taking care of me when I was sick, and feeding me, and teaching me, everything."

Thundegar just nodded and opened the door to the house. When Allette caught his eye and made it clear she expected an answer, he sighed. "I didn't do anything that any other wouldn't've done in my place."

"You and I both know that's not true," Allette said. "There may be others who would act as you have, and those are good people. You, Thundegar, are a good man."

Thundegar just nodded his head slowly. "Thank you."

After washing the roots, Thundegar put them in a shallow layer of water that boiled in his pan. "A pot would be better," he said, "but we'll eat good anyway. We just have to keep turning these. Slice us up some bulbroot and whickleaf."

Allette did as he asked, trying to fall into a rhythm, to be a functioning part of this household and not just a drag on their resources. If she were to stay here, she would need to find her place. Thundegar knew this, of course, and that was why he'd sent her and Rastas out to forage. She wasn't ready yet, and that was why he had shadowed them. It burned her pride, but she was certainly glad she hadn't been bitten in the face by a wood viper. Thundegar was better off keeping her from getting hurt than trying to nurse her wounds. She flushed deeply with those thoughts.

"This place isn't meant for people," he said, as if reading her mind. "This place belongs to everything else. The Heights and the Midlands might be ruled by men, but the Cloud Forest and the Jaga are ruled by everything else. Those who venture in are as welcome as a roach in the lord chancellor's chambers. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Allette said. "It's like the sea."

Thundegar gave her a confused look.

"People aren't meant to be there, and it's a constant struggle to stay alive. One wrong move, and it's over."

"I think you're starting to get it," Thundegar said. "I built this fortress so that I might have a defensible position, so that I could defend myself from the ceaseless and unpredictable attacks. You saw for yourself; there can be no respite, there can be no rest here. I'm tired."

Guilt rose anew to the fore of Allette's many complex feelings, and she knew she had made things worse for Thundegar. He was stretched to his limit, and she was an even greater burden.