Kal Moonheart Trilogy: Dragon Killer, Roll the Bones & Sirensbane (49 page)

‘Oh, I don’t
expect
to find anything,’ Ben said, waving a hand dismissively. ‘In fact, I specifically told Dogwood
not
to find anything. I really came to find you, Kal.’

She knew it!
‘I’m not coming back with you, Ben,’ she said.

‘I’m not here to take you home,’ he said. He laughed. ‘In fact, I don’t really need your help at all in the city these days. Life is good. Greatbear and I make a good team in the Senate House: we passed a bill only yesterday to reinstate the midnight curfew. That should keep trouble off the streets at night. Oh, and I moved out of that temporary apartment at last: Zeb has let me lodge with her and Gwyn. It’s good to have an Arcus Hill address again.’

Kal smiled, and she started to relax. ‘So why are you out here chasing me then? You’re usually still asleep at this time in the morning.’

Ben took a swig of Dead Leg’s rum. He choked on it, and managed to dribble on the sea chart that was unrolled across the table. Kal watched patiently as he tried to wipe it up with his sleeve.

‘Good grief,’ he spluttered. ‘Why is it that sailors do nothing by halves? That rum could fell a dragon.’

Kal knocked hers back in one gulp, then resumed staring at Ben impassively.

‘I’ve got a job for you, Kal,’ Ben said. ‘But not in Amaranthium. In Port Black. When I heard you were heading that way, it reminded me that there’s something you can help me out with.’

Now it was Kal’s turn to laugh out loud. ‘Let me guess,’ she said. ‘Zombies?’

Ben made a face. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You and I both know better than to take horror stories from halfway around the world seriously. No, my problem these days is
pirates
.’

‘Pirates?’ Kal said. ‘You mean that … Amaro Azul guy who’s been terrorising the high seas? You want me to hunt him down?’

‘No, no,’ Ben said. ‘The million-crown price on his head should keep every bounty hunter between here and Balibu busy chasing after him. I’ll be happy if he goes to ground forever; that way we rid ourselves of him
and
we save ourselves the bounty. The pirates I’m concerned with are
our
pirates.’

Kal raised an eyebrow. ‘
Our
pirates?’ she parroted. ‘Oh, you mean
privateers
?’

‘Yeah,’ Ben said. ‘As you know, we license a certain number of privateers to assault ships and raid coastal towns of non-Republic nations: for example Nubara, and the islands governed by Eldragoro and Zorronov. Part of the arrangement is that they hand over a certain percentage of their takings—we raised it to twenty percent last year—to the governor of Port Black. All that cargo and coin is then supposed to make its way back to Amaranthium to fill the Republic’s coffers. My problem right now is that although we’ve been licensing more and more ships lately, the money coming in has dwindled to a trickle.’

‘Could be something to do with the zombie stories,’ Kal mused.

Ben spread his hands. ‘Could be,’ he said. ‘That’s what I want you to find out. Investigate the governor: see what he has to say, and if his explanations hold water, then let me know what’s going on. What do you say, Kal? One last job? This one will pay very well, I assure you.’

‘That’s what you always say,’ Kal said. ‘But you usually just end up paying me just enough to tide me over until your next emergency comes along.’

‘Well, this is different,’ Ben said. ‘This time, the size of the reward is down to you.’ He pulled a scroll out his inside pocket and tossed it across the cabin to Kal. She caught it before it sailed out of the window and into the sea. The scroll was sealed with wax, and stamped with the insignia of a consul of Amaranthium.

‘What’s this?’ she asked, picking at the wax with her fingernail.

‘Your cover story,’ Ben said. ‘It’s a
letter of marque
. It names the captain of the
Swordfish
as a licensed privateer. When you get to Port Black, get yourself some cannon, hire a few local thugs and head back out and chase down some Nubaran barges. Take your haul to Port Black, hand it over to the governor … and then follow the money to find out where it’s all disappearing to. You get to keep your eighty percent, of course.’

Kal took her knife and sliced the seal cleanly. She read the letter while Ben poured himself the last of the Black Kraken.

The license was pretty comprehensive. Kal was pleased to read that the commission not only gave the crew permission to fight, steal and even kill in the name of the Republic, but it also assured them that if they were captured by an enemy nation, they would enjoy the special protected status of prisoners of war. They were, in effect, now part of the Republic navy.

There was just one sticking point …

‘Ben,’ she said when she had finished reading. ‘This letter doesn’t name Dead Leg as captain of the
Swordfish
. It names—’

‘That’s right,’ Ben said as he swallowed the last of the rum. ‘I couldn’t very well sign off such an important document to someone I hardly know, let alone trust. So go plunder some galleons, Kal; net yourself some booty. You’re a pirate captain now!’

I.vii

Edge of the World

Kal must have stood open-mouthed for a good few moments, because Ben suddenly laughed and tried to brush away the significance of his words. ‘Oh, don’t worry, Kal,’ he said. ‘I don’t expect you to march out on deck and order Dead Leg to walk the plank. Quite the opposite, in fact—take your time; pick your moment; make your move when Dead Leg slips up … or if you’re really lucky, when he’s drunk on rum and slips
over
!’

Kal couldn’t quite believe what he was asking of her. ‘I can’t make a play for control of the
Swordfish
—I’m the lubberiest person on board!’

‘I’m sure you’ll find a way,’ Ben said. ‘Especially if you fancy a shot at all the loot that’s out there for the taking. The captain of a ship gets at least four full shares, I believe. The point is, Kal, that nobody must suspect your cover. You have to be seen to
earn
your commission. I don’t want the governor of Port Black thinking that it was me who sent you after him.’

You mean you don’t want to be implicated
, Kal thought. She knew the game Ben played as well as he did. So she made a move of her own:

‘Give me some of your soldiers.’

Ben raised an eyebrow. ‘Hmmm?’

‘Give me some of your soldiers. You said yourself that I should hire some muscle. So save me the trouble and expense and give me some of the Senate Guard. They would be useful support if I got into an altercation with the captain, too. I’m sure you can spare a couple—think of it as sending them off on a training exercise!’

Ben nodded, an amused look in his eyes. He had seemed drunk earlier, but now he was bright and alert. ‘Funny you should say that, Kal,’ he said, ‘because I actually was going to send someone along to help you out—’

At that moment, there was a knock on the cabin door, and Dogwood entered without waiting to be asked. He stamped his booted feet on the floorboards and made a crisp salute. ‘No incriminating evidence on board, sir,’ he reported. ‘Maybe this isn’t the ship we’re looking for, after all. But there is this …’ He placed a silver hip flask on the table before Ben, who popped the top and took a sniff.

‘Smells like dead fish. What is it?’

‘Don’t know, Consul,’ Dogwood said. ‘There are barrels full of it hidden at the back of the water stores. But until I know exactly what it is, I can’t say if this lot are smuggling anything illegal or not.’

‘That’s a tough situation, Captain,’ Ben said. ‘Just think—you could have the greatest gang of smugglers who ever sailed the Silver Sea within your grasp, yet you’re just not certain enough to be able to make an arrest.’

Dogwood looked pained. ‘I do have a suggestion, sir,’ he said.

‘Oh really?’ Ben said, throwing Kal a knowing look and a wink.

‘Yessir. I could sail with these fellows to the Auspice Islands, and continue my investigations there. If you’re looking for trouble, then that’s the place to go. That’s where crime and trouble has its roots. I’ve been all around the world, sir, and I’ll tell you this: there was never a more depraved nest of filth and felony than Port Black!’

* * *

The crew of the
Swordfish
gathered on deck to see off Senator Godsword. Dead Leg was less than happy about giving Dogwood a lift, but he tried to make the best of it. ‘Nobody gets free passage,’ he told Ben. ‘I’ll find your man some work that suits his station. There are plenty of rats on board he can chase down and arrest.’

Dogwood was manhandling a massive chest that was almost as wide as he was. He gave Dead Leg a half-smile—a look that implied he wouldn’t be taking orders from
anyone
during the voyage.

‘Well, so long, Kal,’ Ben said as he stood at the foot of the ramp back up to his ship. ‘Come home soon, won’t you.’

Lula appeared behind Kal and draped her arms around her neck. ‘Not if I can help it, Senator,’ she drawled. ‘Me and Kal are going to live out our days in a hut made of driftwood and palms, on a lonely beach where no one can ever find us.’

Kal could only shrug at this declaration. Ben leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. ‘You’ll only get bored,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘You can come live in the attic of Zeb’s house instead when you return.’

What a choice!
Kal pushed Ben up the ramp while she still had some fond feelings of him to take away with her. But as the
Mort Royal
slipped its moorings, she caught a glimpse of a small grey face peeking out of one of the oar ports.
Goblins
; the voiceless, subjugated labour-force of the Republic. Even Ben, who was a tireless champion of democracy and equality amongst humans, had no compunction about mistreating those the civilised world deemed to be
monsters
. Ben’s family, stretching right back to the age of the gods, had suffered tragedy after tragedy at the hands of the creatures of the Wild. And he wasn’t the only one who saw the world this way; people everywhere believed that all dangerous creatures in the world were fighting for
the Dragon
, the terrifying winged god who would one day wipe out humanity in a rampage of fire and blood.

Kal turned her back on the sight of the departing ship, and went instead to the prow. They had turned north into the wind when they had stopped, but as Dead Leg gave the order to raise the mainsail, the
Swordfish
swung back south again. Kal stepped up onto the bowsprit and gripped the forestay rope, and instead of looking back, looked ahead: to the horizon, and to the future.

* * *

The Auspice Islands were five thousand miles away, in the tropics on the other side of the equator. Depending on winds and currents, a ship like the
Swordfish
could cover about a hundred miles a day. If they reached the Auspice Islands in a month, it would be the dead of winter in Amaranthium, but the height of summer in the tropics. Right now, the winter sun was pale and remote, but every day would bring them closer to its warmth. Kal’s body ached for it. She knew she would burn, but she didn’t care.

The first stage of the voyage took them straight down the Dragon’s Breath: a swift current that ran along the coast of Eldragoro. The
Swordfish
could make an impressive fifteen knots, but Eldragoro was an enemy of the Republic, so Kal had her work cut out for her keeping watch for unfriendly ships. If she was going to be a pirate captain one day, though, she couldn’t spend all her time up the mainmast.

‘Give me something new to do,’ she asked Dead Leg on the fifth day out. She motioned to where Jako was leaning against the tiller, seemingly lost in a daydream. ‘How hard can that be?’

Dead Leg laughed. ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘It’s easy. Give it a go.’

Kal stepped up to the quarterdeck, where the muscular Nubaran stood near the aft rail. How did he get a body like that when all he did was stand around all day, unlike the rest of the crew who hauled ropes and clambered around the rigging? ‘Hi Kal,’ Jako said as she approached. ‘Come to take over?’ He stepped away from the tiller—a two-yard-long lever attached to the rudder pole—keeping it steady with just the fingertips of his right hand.

Kal wrapped her arms securely around it. ‘Don’t forget,’ Jako said, ‘if the captain shouts for
starboard helm
, he means shove the tiller right, so we turn to port.’ He released his fingers and gave Kal some room.

‘I know how the tiller works!’ Kal said. Then suddenly she was knocked off her feet as the tiller jerked hard to the right. ‘Bloody barnacles, Kal!’ Dead Leg swore from the deck. ‘Hard-a-port, lass. Now!’ Kal scrambled to her feet, only for the tiller to hit her hard on the back of her head as it swung around. Eventually, she managed to wrestle it under control. Dead Leg watched her for a while, then when he was satisfied, he called the rest of the crew for a break. Kal was left in control of the ship. Her muscles complained, but she gritted her teeth as she battled the fast, but violent, current that carried them south.

She saw Che roll a cask of grog out on deck, and having reefed the sails, the weary crew gathered around to refresh themselves. Lula and Dogwood, who had barely said a word to each other all week, had set up a board game on a crate and seemed to be finding some mutual quiet enjoyment. Che carried round a platter of seafood, and Sea Dog followed at his heels, yapping and begging for scraps.

Kal concentrated on holding the ship on course, trying to maintain a steady distance from the Eldragoro coast. It was a cold, crisp day with clear skies. Yellow hills and patches of green scrubland passed by, punctuated by small clusters of white buildings. Jako came back to stand beside her. He was carrying two black jacks (leather cups, stiffened with tar) full of grog. Kal didn’t dare take her hand off the tiller to take one from him, though.

‘Careful,’ he said. ‘You’re drifting to the edge of the current. It doesn’t follow the coast perfectly: look how the water ahead is a deeper blue, with more bubbles and breaks. Navigation isn’t just about having a strong arm, Kal—it’s about observation and feel, knowing what a change in temperature means, or what the movements of whales signify … and a thousand more tiny details that even I couldn’t explain. The coast may look quiet, but there are corsairs in almost every village and every bay, watching and waiting for ships to flounder.’