The Black Lung Captain - Chris Wooding [18]
Frey put up his hands with an innocent face. “Like he says. It’s just how we talk.”
“I suppose so,” said Hodd reluctantly.
“But to be clear,” said Grist, leaning over to Frey, “I’m in charge of this one.”
“Right,” said Frey, considerably relieved. He turned his attention back to Hodd, who was rearranging his ruffled feathers. “So you were making your way out of Kurg, presumably a little the worse for wear, and you found an aircraft crashed in the rainforest. What kind of aircraft?”
“Like nothing I’d ever seen before,” said Hodd. “Like nothing anyone has ever seen.”
“Can you describe it?”
“Er …” said Hodd. “It was big. Hard to get a good look at, really, all broken and tangled in the forest as it was.”
“Tangled?” said Jez. “The forest had grown up around it?”
“Oh, yes,” said Hodd. “It’s been there a long time. Thousands of years, no doubt.”
“Listen to the next part,” Grist advised Frey.
“As you can imagine, I was thrilled at my discovery,” said Hodd. “I immediately set about exploring it. The craft was quite deserted, but I was in no doubt that it was of a design unfamiliar to Vardia or any of its neighbors. There was writing, in letters I have never seen. And such strange artifacts! Those alone would have convinced me. I have an extensive knowledge of antiques, you know. My father was quite the collector. There has been nothing like this in our histories or anyone else’s.”
“Tell them about the door,” Grist said impatiently.
“The door. Yes. Well, despite the vessel’s broken hull, I could only access certain parts of the craft. You can imagine my excitement when I found a mysterious door.”
“A mysterious door,” Frey repeated, deadpan.
“Quite so! But when I touched it, the most abominable sensation came over me. My stomach turned, my head swam, and I was flung back, as if by invisible hands.”
“Hmm,” said Frey.
“I tried again, with the same result. I believe it was some form of Azryx technology, meant to guard their treasures. A barrier of some kind, composed of forces beyond my understanding. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t get in. Then I heard some creatures approaching—what kind of horrors, I couldn’t say—so I grabbed the artifact you see before you and I fled. Not long after that, I found my way to the landing site where our aircraft were, and I escaped.”
“Now I know this sounds far-fetched,” said Grist, as Frey opened his mouth to say so. “Sounds that way to me too. But before you speak, remember that Hodd here is willing to lead us back to that place. He’s gonna show us every word is true. And I made it awful clear that if all ain’t as he says, then he’s gonna be wearing his guts round his neck.”
“Please,” said Hodd distastefully. “There’s no need for that. I’m an honorable man and no liar.”
Frey gazed coolly across the table at Grist. Grist smiled back. The end of his cigar glowed red.
“So that’s why you need my daemonist,” Frey said.
“Whatever trickery they put on that door, the one person who might be able to fix it is a daemonist,” said Grist. “Am I right?”
Frey shrugged. “I suppose so. I’d have to ask him.”
“Well, daemonists are a secretive lot, and yours is the only one I know how to find. Word spread of the golem you lot used in Rabban when you took on the Delirium Trigger.” He took the cigar from his mouth and exhaled slowly. “Also, I’m short on time. Hodd here told everyone and their wives about this craft before I found him.”
“I was trying to raise the money to go back!” Hodd cried. “Nobody believed that what I’d found was a genuine—”
Grist talked over him. “Regardless, I’ve wasted weeks trackin’ you down, Frey. If anyone’s of a mind to take his story seriously, they’ll be lookin’ for that aircraft too. But what they don’t have is Hodd here to guide them.”
“Can you find it again?” Jez asked Hodd.
“Most certainly! I’d bet my life on it.”
“You are betting your life on it,” Grist reminded him. He tapped ash from his grubby cigar