The Charnel Prince - J. Gregory Keyes [160]
Neil shook his head. “No, the ship I served on was beached in the storm the other night. I bought this from a fisherman.”
“Bad storm, that,” the sailor said. “We almost went down in it.”
“Pretty good blow,” Neil conceded.
“What ship was that you were on?” the man asked.
“The Esecselur, out of Hall.” That seemed safe enough—Hall was one of the most remote and least visited islands in the Sorrow chain, and it was—last he’d heard—one of the few under Hanzish rule.
“Ah, explains your accent,” the fellow said. “Well, what do you need?”
“I wondered if you might use another hand, at least until the ship is repaired. I’d work for a place to stay and a coin or two until I can get a berth on something headed home.”
The sailor scratched his head. “Well, the captain did tell the frumashipmanna to hire some local help, but I’m sure he’d rather have someone who speaks the godstongue.”
Neil hoped he didn’t flinch at that. He’d spent most of his life fighting people who spoke Hanzish. The fact that they thought their language was the language of the saints was just a reminder of why.
He must have hidden his feelings well, for the sailor then introduced him to the firstshipman, who looked him up and down, asked him the same questions the other fellow had, and then shrugged.
“We’ll give you a try,” he said, “But I’m telling you now you won’t pull a berth with us. The lord whose ship this is is peculiar about who he takes aboard. But if you’re still interested, it’s a schilling a day plus a middle meal, and you can sleep in the tents.”
“That’s fair enough,” Neil said.
“And your name?” the man asked.
“Kniva,” Neil improvised. “Kniva Berigsunu.”
“You ever trim out a mast?”
“Before I was six,” Neil answered.
“Over there, then. If I don’t like your work, you don’t get paid.”
Working on the mast was a good place to be—it allowed him to see all who came and went. He didn’t see anyone he recognized, though, and certainly none of the knights or their men-at-arms. That was a good sign, probably—it suggested that they were still looking for Anne and her companions.
It made him feel itchy, working side by side with his enemies, but after a time he relaxed. The other men toiling on the mast seemed to take him for who he said he was, and he managed to get friendly with a couple of them. They were both from Selhastranth, an island off Saltmark, and their language and bad blood aside, Neil’s island boyhood had been much like theirs.
So at the end of the day, as they collected their schillings, he wasn’t surprised when Jan and Vithig asked him along to the tavern.
The curm valc the inn served was bitter and thick, not that different from the ale they brewed on the islands—and Neil knew he ought not have much of it. He’d never been a big drinker, and it had been a long time since he had imbibed more than a little wine.
Jan and Vithig showed no such inhibitions, swaging it down as if it were water. By the time their portions of eel stew arrived, they were well on their way to Saint Leine’s hall.
After a round of bragging about various exploits at sea, Neil leaned forward. “I’ve seen strange things lately,” he said, in a low voice. “Uncanny things. I’ve heard the draugs singing and seen a dead man walk on Ter-na-Fath. My fah says the end of the world is coming.”
Both of their faces scrunched up at that. Jan was a big, ruddy man with a bald crown and dark eyes, while Vithig’s face was so angular, it looked as if he had swallowed an anvil and it had stuck in his head.
“You don’t have to tell us things is weirding,” Vithig said. “We’ve seen things—”
Jan put a hand on his arm. “No, don’t do that,” he said.
Vithig nodded sagely. “Aiw, I know. But it’s not right. I’ve said His Lordship’s men aren’t men at all, some of ’em—and I’ll say it again.” He punched a finger at Neil. “Just you be glad they won’t offer you a berth, is all I’m saying.”
“Vith, keep it down,” Jan growled.
“I didn’t see anything strange aboard ship.”
“Aiw—they’ve gone, thank Ansu Hlera, off south to chase—”
“Vith!” Jan pounded the table so hard, their bowls and mugs