The Mercenaries - Ed Greenwood [14]
As the ship turned again toward her former course and started to pick up speed, leaving the still-impressive columns of flame behind, Belmer slowly strode the decks in search of places that were still alight. Idly he kicked a bone across the deck and out a sluice-chute.
Sharessa raised her brows. Impressive aim, too. Rings was stalking over to their employer now, and Sharessa drifted closer to hear what was said.
The dwarf stopped and planted his hands on his hips. Sharessa knew that gesture of old; it was what Rings did when he was talking to the captain.
A night after Blackfingers had met his final fire and water, the Sharkers had a captain again.
As the Morning Bird slipped away into the night, Rings squinted up at the man whose eyes were looking knowingly back down at him.
"I understand what ye're about," Rings began, "fooling them on the black ship, them as tried to ram us, into thinking we're ablaze from stem to stern, and going down. But what if they see us, now, and aren't fooled?"
Belmer looked back at the flames behind them for a moment, and turned to face the dwarf again. "Then," he said softly, and Sharessa saw the white flash of his teeth as he smiled mirthlessly in the darkness, "youll all have to start earning your jargoons."
Chapter 5
The Ghost Ship
"I've sailed ships before,'' Anvil growled to Brindra, as they stood shoulder to shoulder hauling in a mainsail line, "but by the looks of 'em, that's more than these Tharkar rats've ever done."
His barrel-shaped comrade spat over the rail, nodded grimly, and replied, "Our new master would've done better to leave them all behind on the docks, to be sure. I never heard of crew who had to be clubbed senseless to keep them from leaping to their deaths in the sea!"
"If I'd known we were going to be fighting fires and dancing bones half the night, I'd've put away a few less tankards back at the Masques," Brindra said. "When d'y'suppose Belmer will think we've run far enough and let us all find a bunk? Or does he think his jargoons buy folks' sleep, too?" She yawned for perhaps the hundredth time.
Anvil groaned. "Don't do that, woman! I'm afraid 111 be wakened by my head bouncing off the deck after I fall asleep and then fall over!"
Brindra chuckled hoarsely. "That's better than not waking when you crack your head open on the deck, if you take my meaning."
"Ho ho," Anvil agreed with weary sarcasm. "Are we going to work the sails all night? I hear Kara-Tur's notautfwrffarofr…"
"Was that someone yawning I heard?" a dry voice asked, out of the darkness down the rail.
Anvil turned. "Belgin? What news?"
"Supper," was the wry reply, as Belgin and Rings staggered into view, a dented carry-cauldron between them. Its edges bristled with ladles, hook-jacks, and pans. "Some sort of soup our mysterious and all-talented master cooked up."
"He cooks, too? Gods above," Brindra muttered.
"So that's where he went," Anvil said, accepting a pan of steaming liquid. It looked thick and green in the moonlight, and when he stirred the spoon that came in it, pale lumps surfaced momentarily. He peered at them rather suspiciously as a hungry-looking Ingrar joined them. "Any idea what went into this?"
"Dead things," the dwarf said laconically." 'Shrooms, sea turtles by the score, a crab he netted, and herbs- lots of herbs."
"Not like that powder he threw on the boats, I hope," Sharessa said with a yawn, joining them. "If I didn't think he wasn't quite crazed, I'd guess he intended to keep us hauling on sails and trying to outrace black ships all night!"
"No," Rings joked, twisting his voice into strangled mimicry of the gaunt sailor back in the Masques, "it's ghost ships ye has to watch out for, lassie! Late at night, when folk on the moon watch are a-yawn, they rise out of the deeps, trailing bones and seaweed, and creep up on the leeboards of unsuspecting