Wake of the Bloody Angel (18 page)

“The wherry, sir? Will you not be taking a few men for security?”

“This is a friendly port, and with our two guests along, I’m sure I’ll be safe.”

“I’ll pack you a picnic,” Seaton muttered, then began shouting orders.

“I take it this is unusual,” I said to Jane when we were alone.

“Yeah, I didn’t even know the ship
had
a wherry. I thought all the boats were launches.”

“I meant about this,” I said, and gestured at the harbor.

“Oh. Yeah, this is absolutely nuts,” she agreed. “Look at all the flags, too. This isn’t just one kingdom’s fleet; this is everyone. It’s a total shutdown of trade. Nobody’s getting anything.”

Clift, Jane, and I boarded the wherry, rowed by two young sailors. Navigating among the big ships was a bit like canoeing down a canyon, with only a narrow band of sky visible above us. Although the vessels were anchored, there was still plenty of slow movement, and we had to push ourselves away from shifting hulls more than once. It was a sunny day, but the shadows between ships felt isolated and spooky.

As we passed one ship, Clift said, “I know this ship’s captain.” He stood, cupped his hands around his mouth, and called, “Ahoy, sloop
Raccoon
! Is Captain Freisner aboard?”

A face appeared over the rail. “And who might you be?”

“Clift, of the
Red Cow.
”

“Well, Clift of the
Red Cow,
that coward Freisner went ashore three days ago and we haven’t seen him since! If you run across him, tell him his crew no longer requires his presence!” The face withdrew without waiting for a reply.

Clift sat back down. Jane said, “Do you suppose all these vessels are captainless?”

“I don’t know what the fuck they are,” Clift snapped. “Any insights from the great investigators?”

Jane said, “Dylan, that’s not fair—”

“What are ships like this afraid of?” I asked.

Clift turned slowly and looked at me, but his anger had already dissipated. “Only war, weather, or pirates could stop a merchant ship from delivering her cargo. There’s no war big enough to account for all this, the weather’s perfect, and we haven’t seen any pirates, either.”

“But look at that,” Jane said, and pointed. “A Rafelian navy frigate.”

“So it’s not just commercial ships,” I said.

“Apparently not.”

It took a long time, but eventually we reached the end of a dock where we could tie up alongside the launches from several other vessels. The town beyond the docks swarmed with people, but they weren’t moving much; they stood in groups talking, or listening to speakers pontificating from storefronts, or just numbly standing around.

Clift turned to our pair of rowers. “Men, stay with the wherry. If we’re not back by nightfall, return to the ship and tell Mr. Seaton he’s in charge, and that my advice is to get the hell out of here.”

“Aye, sir,” they said.

He kept looking at them. “I’m serious, lads. I’m trusting you. I don’t know what’s going on yet, but I see plenty of vessels who seem content to molder here. The
Cow
is not one of them. Am I clear?”

The two sat up a little straighter, and their simultaneous “Aye, aye, sir,” was more emphatic.

“Good. I always knew I had the best crew in the fleet.”

As we strode down the dock toward solid land, I noticed something and asked, “What’s that?”

A dozen ships were blocked off from the rest of the harbor by red buoys connected by stout chains. Armed men stood along the waterfront, isolating these vessels from land. None had any visible damage, or crew.

“There’s the
Mellow Wine
,” Jane said, pointing.

I recognized the abandoned ship we’d encountered before. “Are all those ghost ships, then?”

“Maybe that’s what everyone is—” Suddenly Clift stopped, staring at one of the ships behind the quarantine line.

Jane said, “What is it?”

“The
Indigo Ray,
” Clift said in disbelief. “She’s one of ours. A pirate hunter.”

The ship he indicated had the same general lines as the
Red Cow,
but was painted dark colors to better suit her name. Clift headed toward her, only to have one of the guards move to block his way.

“Sorry, Cap’n Clift,” the guard said. “Nobody goes aboard. Harbormaster’s orders.”

“Who brought in the
Indigo Ray
?”

“I can’t really say. You’ll have to talk to the harbormaster.”

“Was she one of the ghost ships?”

The guard looked at his fellows, then leaned closer. “D’you remember me, Cap’n? Ah, well, no matter. You gave me a fair shake once when you didn’t have to, and I remember it. The
Copper Lance
brought in the
Ray.
She was found empty and adrift, just like the others. ’Tis one thing to have a cargo vessel overtook, but first naval warships, then one of the pirate hunters . . .” He shook his head. “Now no one will leave the harbor.”

“Anyone mention a strange mark left on them?” I interjected.

He looked at me suspiciously. “What sort of a mark?”

“A double
X
,” Clift said.

The guard turned his attention back to the captain. “Aye, I’ve heard rumors of that. Haven’t seen it myself. On the door to the captain’s cabin, they say.”

“Where’s the captain of the
Lance
?”

“No idea, Cap’n. Try the harbormaster, if you can get through the crowd.”

“Thanks, Mr.—?”

“Weston, sir.”

“Weston. Sorry, I don’t recall when we met.”

“Only one of us has to, sir.”

“We’ll not get answers here,” Clift said to us. He marched down the dock with such purpose that people instinctively stepped aside. We almost ran to keep up.

At the end of the dock stood a huge sign welcoming people to Blefuscola in a dozen different languages. The town’s motto was also repeated multiple times: “A safe place for all ships in need.”

That noble sentiment was balanced by the most godawful smell I’ve ever encountered outside a privy. I’d acclimated to the ship’s odors, to the point that the piss barrel didn’t even register on me anymore, but this was about a million times worse. Unwashed bodies, mud, urine, and rotting garbage contributed to a wave of aroma that made my stomach roil. Even Jane wrinkled her nose.

“Overcrowding,” she said. “There’s usually only about a tenth this many people here.”

“What do they want?” I asked.

“Safety. Protection. Answers.”

“I want answers, too,” Clift snapped in annoyance. “And we won’t find them cowering here, put off by a little stink.”

Those ashore who noticed us did not look happy to see us, and turned away as soon as we made eye contact. Our progress was significantly slowed by a crowd gathered in front of one of the little buildings to hear a wild-voiced man pontificate on something. We couldn’t avoid his harangue as we worked our way around.

“It was a cable’s length long, from maw to tail tip. And it came roaring out of the dark, with one big baleful eye.
Whoosh!
We’re smashed in to starboard.
Wham!
We’re crushed to port. And then, it come up amidships, tore away our masts, and sunk us. Thirty good and true sailor men, drowned and dead.”

The crowd murmured.

“And whatever is behind these ghost ships is part of the same vile family! I tell ye, it probably flies down and snatches the folks off the deck before they even know what’s coming! Flies out of the sun, I bet ye, like an eagle snaring a field mouse.”

“Flying monsters,” Clift said disdainfully, then added loudly, “Flies out of your goddamn liquor jug, maybe!”

“And who might you be?” the old man demanded.

“Someone who has sense enough to know there’s no flying one-eyed monsters out there. If your ship sank, friend, I’d be looking at the captain first; maybe he just can’t read a map, and decided a monster was a better cause than a reef he didn’t spot in time.”

I said nothing, but recalled vividly a cave in the hills above Neceda where I faced the last of the fire-breathing dragons. So I wasn’t so quick to reject the idea out of hand.

“You!” someone else cried. We looked around. A peglegged sailor hobbled through the mud toward us, using the shoulders of others in the crowd for balance. When he reached us, the one-legged man said, “You’re from the bloody AntiFreebooters, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Clift said guardedly.

“Then why are you here? Why aren’t you out there finding the villains who did this?”

“And who are you?” Clift challenged. “Doesn’t look like any of you are in a position to call another man coward.”

This raised some hackles in the crowd. I leaned close to Jane and said, “Should we expect a fight?” She shrugged, but surreptitiously moved away to guard the captain’s other blind spot. I folded my arms, which put my hand near my sword hilt.

“We’re not fighting men, you cur,” peg leg said. “We pay taxes and tariffs so your kind will do that dirty work. So why aren’t you out there?”

We were now the focus of the crowd’s ire, and they closed in around us. The fight would be long, and we’d take a lot of them with us, but eventually they’d have us by sheer numbers. I saw the muscles in Jane’s shoulders flex as she got ready.

Clift walked up to peg leg, looked him up and down, and then slapped him so hard, he fell to the mud.

“You stinking, bilge-sucking son of a bitch!” he yelled. “You want to pick a fight with me, get up and do it! I won’t stand for your slander.” He looked at the crowd. “What about the rest of you? Any of you feel lucky?”

When no one responded, he looked down at peg leg. “I just arrived in this stink-hole. I don’t have a clue what’s happening with these ghost ships, but by heaven, I’ll make a ghost of the next man who calls me a coward.” He yanked peg leg to his feet . . . well, foot. “Go sign aboard my ship, the
Red Cow.
Tell them Captain Dylan Clift sent you personally. Then when we find the source of these attacks, you can be right there to see for yourself. If your balls hang low enough for the job, that is.”

Peg leg wrenched free and disappeared back into the crowd. Clift glared around us, his gaze hot enough to make the crowd retreat wherever it fell. In moments, no one looked our way at all.

He turned to us and said, “That was fun.” I think he meant it.

People got out of our way even faster as we continued into town, the muddy street sucking at our boots. We reached a small building with a sign out front that announced, again in a dozen languages, that the man inside was both the town magistrate and the harbormaster. A crowd waited outside, while within, a dozen other captains shouted at one another. Clift pushed through them to the desk, where an old man with long white hair sat, a quill and inkwell before him.

“I’m Captain Dylan Clift of the
Red Cow,
” he announced. “I need to see the harbormaster.”

The old man barely looked up. “Take a seat, wait your turn.” “I’m a pirate hunter, I get priority,” Clift said.

“Not today, you don’t. All those ships in the harbor? The captain of every one of them is ahead of you.”

Clift leaned down. “I don’t think you heard me. We get priority.”

The man’s weathered face drew into a grimace as if a string tightened it from within his skull. “I don’t think you heard
me,
youngster. Not today, you don’t.” He dipped his pen in the inkwell to tell Clift he was dismissed. “Take a seat, wait your turn, and stop bothering me.”

I stepped up to the desk and deliberately jingled the coins in my money bag. “I think we can reach an agreement.”

The old man’s face tightened even more. “Oh, a bribe. With a harbor full of uncouth and barbaric sailors, no one’s thought to try that yet. My God, you’re brilliant.” He snorted in disgust.

Jane said, “I guess we’ve got no choice.” She turned and went toward the door marked
_PRIVATE
in the same list of tongues. A guard I hadn’t noticed stepped in front to stop her. I didn’t see exactly what she did to him, but it was fast and silent. She caught his unconscious body and lowered him to the floor.

Heads turned toward us. As the old man rose to protest, I tossed a gold coin on his desk. The
clink
got the attention of just about everyone in the room. I said, “Thanks, pops.” I could imagine how happy the others would be to think the old man let us in ahead of them.

There was a man seated before the harbormaster’s desk, and he jumped up when we appeared. “Dylan!” he cried, and shook the captain’s hand enthusiastically. “At least one other of us has made it to safety.”