“So that’s why you built this boat?” Tarrel asked.
“Mostly,” answered Decker. “It’s nearly as fast as a Lyrandar boat, too,” he added proudly.
Tarrel nodded in appreciation. “And Fang there—did you build him as well?”
“Standard pattern,” said Decker. “All I had to do was follow the instructions. I’ve got some ideas for upgrading it, though.”
“It?” asked Tarrel.
“That’s right—it,” said Decker. “I know you like to call things him and her, and that’s up to you. Me, I like to keep the distinction between thinking creatures and simple machines.”
“How did you fall in with Mordan?” he asked.
Decker made the same grinding noise he had heard earlier. “Don’t ask,” he said. “All I’ll say is, I’m still regretting it.”
“So why are you carrying us now?” The pale green light in Decker’s eyes intensified slightly.
“He says you’re chasing some slavers.” Seeing the surprise on Tarrel’s face, he leaned in close to the half-elf. “Was he lying?”
“You could look at it that way,” replied Tarrel, a little nervously. “Someone’s stealing undead from the Karrnathi military and selling them …”
“As slaves,” Decker finished his sentence. “That’s what Mordan said. You’re the one he got the money from?”
“It’s my client’s money,” said Tarrel. He wasn’t at all sure where this was going. Decker leaned back against the stern-post, and Tarrel relaxed a little.
“Well, then,” said the warforged, apparently to himself. “Maybe he was telling the truth after all.”
“Where is he, by the way?” asked Tarrel, looking around. Decker made a soft grinding noise that might have been a chuckle.
“Down in the hold, with that vampire of yours,” he replied. “I told him, that’s where he’s bunking down or over the side it goes.” He gave Tarrel a significant look. “I’ve been caught looking after boxes for him before.”
Tarrel decided to steer the conversation back to safer topics. “So how does the boat work?” he asked.
Decker gave him a penetrating stare. “You got any artificer training?” he asked. Tarrel shook his head. “Then I’ll keep it simple.” Decker went on. “Basically, the whole thing’s a construct. It’s not that different from a golem, really, except it’s boat-shaped rather than shaped like you and me.”
Tarrel looked suitably impressed. “And it’s as fast as a Lyrandar elemental ship, you said?”
“Almost,” replied Decker, “and I’m working on some upgrades. That’s where the money from this trip will be going. Took a little more work than just summoning and binding an elemental of course, but I reckon it’s worth it.”
The shadows moved slightly, and both Tarrel and Decker looked up. Brey was standing beside them, looking over the starboard side of the boat with an urgent expression.
“I know this place,” she said. “We’ve got to stop.”
Chapter 11
The Mournland
“I was here,” said Brey, once Decker had brought the boat to a stop. “I know it. See the that tree there, and the rock outcrop over to the left?”
Mordan shook his head. He couldn’t see a thing in the darkness.
“I know it,” Brey continued. “This is where I reached the river after I escaped. That means that the place where they held me”—she pointed across the river, toward the dead-gray mist of the Mournland—“is in there!”
“I’m not going in there,” said Decker, although no one was listening to him.
“Listen,” said Mordan to Brey, “I believe you. But that doesn’t mean anything. Inside that mist, everything’s different from what it was. Whole buildings—whole neighborhoods—in Metrol have been moved around, like the city was cut into pieces and shuffled. There’s no guarantee that place is still where you left it.”
“Besides.” Tarrel put in, “didn’t you say it was destroyed?”
“Yes,” said Mordan, “and even if it wasn’t destroyed when you got out, it must have been on the Day of Mourning.”
“You’re guessing,” said Brey.
“And you’re not?” asked Mordan.
“I don’t care,” Brey snapped. “I know something is still in there, and I’ve got to find it. What if someone survived?”
“What if that thing they summoned is still there?” wondered Tarrel.
“Thing?” asked Decker.
Nobody answered him.
“Look,” said Mordan, “Fort Zombie is the only solid lead we’ve got—and we don’t have much time. Once they get word that their friends in Karrlakton are out of business, they’ll …”
“They’ll just send someone else,” Brey interrupted, “or they’ll start shipping the zombies to different markets.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” said Tarrel.
Everyone looked at him.
“If the Ministry found the swords in Falko’s place,” Tarrel continued, “they’ll be able to guess what’s going on—even if he didn’t tell them himself.”
Brey snorted. “So what could he tell them? He bought some swords from Fort Zombie. So? They don’t know about the undead!” She shot Tarrel a piercing glance. “Do they?”
Tarrel shrugged.
“What did you do?” she demanded.
“Well,” said Tarrel, “I was in the Sivis office sending a report back to my client”—he held up his hands defensively as Brey reacted to this news—“I only told him I’d confirmed you were in Karrlakton, you’d apparently moved on, and I was trying to track you.”
“Never mind that,” snapped Mordan. “Answer the question.”
“Well,” said Tarrel, “I sent an anonymous tip to the Ministry telling them to look into that construction site.”
“You did what?” Brey’s face was beginning to change. Tarrel backed away from her a little.
“Good for you!” Decker gave the half-elf a clap on the shoulder that nearly knocked him down. “So they’ll go and release the undead slaves?”
“And they’ll realize they came from Fort Zombie,” Mordan continued, “and they’ll get to Fort Zombie just as soon as they can.”
There was an uncomfortable silence. Everyone stared at Tarrel.
“I had it all figured,” he protested. “We could still get there first, and if things went wrong, we’d know the cavalry was right behind us!”
“That settles it,” said Mordan. “We can’t take the time for a detour—especially to a place that might not even be there any more.”
“Well,” said Tarrel, “It might take them a few days to track down the zombies. If your fat man is worth his weight as a crime lord, he probably has someone on the inside to tip him off. He’ll simply hide the zombies and …”
“No,” said Brey, “he won’t. I killed him before we left.” Her voice was perfectly even; she might have been discussing last night’s dinner. “What?” she said, realizing that all eyes were now on her. “You expected me to sit and polish my nails while you two were out doing—whatever you did?”
“So we have to get to Fort Zombie first,” Mordan said. “Decker, can you make this boat go any faster?”
“Maybe,” said the warforged, “but we’d have to stop while I made alterations.”
“Never mind that,” said Brey. “I know where that place is. I know your Lancers were there, and I know for damn certain the people I’m looking for were there. What if they still are? What if there’s some clue to where they’ve gone?”
“That’s too many ‘what ifs,’ ” said Mordan, “We know the smugglers are working out of Fort Zombie, and we know Hintram …”
“All we have,” Brey interrupted, “is one man—now dead—linking one of the two units with undead smuggling.” Her eyes bored into his, a red light stirring in the back of them.