But he wanted to try. He nodded.
The captain kept him busy doing anything that needed doing, and Releana soon joined in.
From the storage holds to the engine room, they carried the magic coals that moved the paddles. They cleaned the fire-cannons, the long tubes that fired the magical balls of fire at enemy ships. They helped the crew carry the cargo on and off they ship as they docked at one port after another along the Serpent.
J’role had never had much opportunity to work. He'd coveted the food his fellow villagers grew, but had never seen any appeal in the act of working. His only occupation had been lounging around, carefully observing the moods of his neighbors for the right time to beg for scraps. Though begging was intense work, emotionally draining in its shame, it did not offer the physical release and satisfaction of cleaning the ship and hauling goods aboard.
His muscles strained, his breathing quickened, sweat formed over his skin. The physical thrill was heightened, not by his magic-which separated him from others-but by his cooperation with Releana and Voponis and the other t'skrang. Though many of the sailors shunned him out of fear of his silence, J'role quickly became a fiercely active work force on the Breeton.
He went to bed tired each day, fell into a deep sleep, and woke up ready for more work.
He ate hearty meals on a regular basis, each one as sumptuous as the food Garlthik had bought with his ill-gained diamond.
The days passed, and the Throal Mountains loomed ahead, their tops vanishing into white mist. Like his future, existing, but unseen.
"The dwarfs only control a small portion of the mountains," said Voponis, gesturing at the towering mountain range. "But that small part is still very large. Instead of their homes being laid out flat, like ours in the Serpent, they stretch up and down within the mountains. The surface of the mountains is wild territory, full of strange creatures." He looked embarrassed. "Or so I'm told."
"Grim," Captain Patrochian said, suddenly behind them. Her voice was brisk, as always when J'role was "on duty." "Need more coals for the paddle wheel."
He nodded and rushed off, with barely a glance to Voponis.
The coals were kept in small boxlike containers of a golden metal called orichalcum. The orichalcum could contain magical elements, such as the coals of elemental fire used to power the paddle wheel and fire the snip's guns.
The ship had forty such containers, and Releana told J'role that they were as valuable as the magical fire elements within. She explained that there were magical elements for fire, earth, wood, water, and air. Orichalcum, an enchanted earth alloy, made transportation of the elements safe. She had never seen the boxes before, but had been told about them. All magicians, she said, knew about them, and most sought out containers made from the metal.
The boxes were stored in neat stacks of two layers, four deep and five across. They were cold to the touch, but J'role knew some contained fiery coals that perpetually burned until released from their boxes for use in conjunction with magic.
Boxes that were empty remained on their side, with the small square door on one side left open. Bending down to pick up one of the filled boxes, he suddenly heard voices coming through the wall in a neighboring hold. One he recognized as Nikronallia’s. The other was familiar, but he couldn't place it immediately. Curious, J'role leaned closer to the wall, finding a crack that let him peer between two boards.
"Have you spoken to the crew, as I told you?" asked Garlthik One-Eye. He sat on a pile of stained tarps, his thick, gray-green body reclining on the cloth like some decadent king holding court. J'role nearly gasped out loud.
"Those I trust," answered Nikronallia.
"And how many is that?" Garlthik seemed bored with the question, as if Nikronallia was certain to disappoint him.
J’role watched with fascination as Nikronallia twitched with concern and tried to please the one-eyed ork. "Most. All but seven. Most can't stand her flaunting of the customs."
"And the Breeton meets with the dwarven envoys tomorrow?"
"Aye. We must-"
"We will. Tonight. We can't risk word of the mutiny traveling downriver ahead of us. But tonight … in the darkness. There will be no time for warning to reach the other ship."
"The dwarfs will be the ruin of us all …," the t'skrang said bitterly, looking down at the ground.
Garlthik shrugged and stood up. "Not my concern," he said. Nikronallia opened his mouth to speak, and Garlthik raised his hand. "I told you I'd help you," he said. "I needed passage across the river, and this is my fare. But I don't care who rules. I just want their money. Now, of course, I want the boy." "And you shall nave him."
Garlthik blinked at him. "Do you think I need your permission?”
"No."
"Then grant me no favors. And once the dwarfs are dead, you'll sail us to Throal."
"But. ."
"We'll all go That's where I'm headed. But kill the father and the other one during the mutiny. I just want them gone."
Nikronallia nodded.
Garlthik paced absently, and then smiled. "To think I should stumble across the boy this way. When you came down to tell me he was on board …"
"And you will kill the captain? Tonight?" The fear in the t’skrang’s voice revealed why Garlthik was necessary for this mutiny. Apparently no one on the ship felt capable of taking Captain Patrochian’s life. "Tell me when."
Nikronallia hesitated, as if he had one more question to ask but could not bring himself to do it.
"I'm as good as you've heard," Garlthik said impatiently. "Your captain shall sleep in her own blood this night. Have no fear."
"She is …"
"She is dead by my hands. Consider it already done."
Nikronallia hesitated again, his departure imminent, but delayed. "How did the boy escape you then?"
A terrible ire crossed Garlthik's face, but then his expression softened to something pitiable. "That magician you told me about. He has an affinity with the Horrors. There are some things even I am afraid of."
Nikronallia’s wide eyes widened more, then he nodded and left.
Fearful of being caught, J'role quickly pulled away from the crack, searching for some excuse to look busy.
He remembered the request for the fire coals, and reached down and picked up one of the golden boxes. His breathing felt tight in his chest as he walked toward the door and turned the thick metal ring to open it. Everything done plainly, easily. See. Not doing anything. Just an errand. Captain told me to.
He stepped out into the corridor and closed the door behind him.
He turned. Down the corridor stood Nikronallia, staring at him.
23
One nightmare comes back to him regularly. When he wakes, it is vivid in his memory.
Sometimes it is the only thing he can think about for the rest of the day.
In the nightmare Charneale arrives at J'role's home in the kaer. The door slams abruptly open. The magician is laughing maniacally. J'role's mother is at Charneale's feet, weeping and screaming for mercy. But her words are not words. They are the same strange sounds J'role makes when he opens his mouth.
"It is time," the magician intones, and from his chest pours countless rocks. They rush out onto the floor, like water poured into a cup.
Just before he is smothered by the rocks, J'role is suddenly transported to the Atrium. His mother now stands in the fountain. The statue of Garlen hovers behind her, but the statue is covered with a thick tarp. The spirit of Garlen should never witness what is about to happen.
J'role and Nikronallia stood facing each other in the corridor neither moving, both their faces expressionless. J'role was certain that Nikronallia somehow knew that he had overheard the conversation with Garlthik.