Chapter Twenty-Two
Sardec stood by the dockside, wondering how it had come to this. He did not like their situation at all, did not like to think they were trapped and that their only option was to run. He found that he rather liked Harven, and would have liked to spend more time in the place. He wished that Rena was here. This was a place where he felt the two of them might be happy together, where Terrarch prejudices meant less, and humans meant more. He was surprised to find himself in sympathy with that attitude. His father certainly would not have been. He forced himself to concentrate on the matter at hand.
Another large ship was being towed into the crowded harbour. It flew the flag of Talorea. A few hours earlier he would have felt sure that its master would help him if asked, and if paid enough; now he was far from certain. At every ship, at every agent’s office, he had heard the same thing. There were no ships available. The tides were wrong. Storms were expected in the Bay of Whales. No cargoes were being sent in that direction right now. The ship’s master was sick. There had been an outbreak of pestilence on board and no man was allowed ashore because of the quarantine. The extent and originality of the excuses had been really rather impressive. Without ever quite spelling it out, the merchants and captains had let him know that no ship was likely to become available no matter who his patron was or how much he was prepared to pay. Sardec was beginning to lose his patience.
The man in front of him now seemed frightened even by his very presence. He was an agent for a Talorean shipping company, a small man but wealthy looking, recommended by Ambassador Valefor, and for that reason the last Sardec had approached.
“I am sorry, Lieutenant,” he said. “All our outbound ships are heading for Selenea. And none of them have room for passengers.”
“Why?”
“They are simply too small.”
“That is not what I meant.”
“I am sorry, Lieutenant. I’m afraid I don’t understand you.”
“Why will you not aid an officer of your own nation?”
“I would if I could but as I have already explained…”
“Let me explain something,” said Sardec. “If you do not help us I will see to it that you die.”
“Are you threatening me, Lieutenant?” Sardec gestured in the direction of Weasel and the Barbarian.
“Those men there will cut your throat if I order them to.”
“The watch would have them…”
“I assure you they are capable of doing it at a time and place where the watch will not catch them. They could make your death particularly unpleasant if I asked them to.”
The merchant stared at the pair. He took Sardec’s assessment at face value. “If it were up to me,” he said at last, “I would find you a ship, but even if I did, no captain would take you.”
“Why?”
“Word has gone around that any ship that carries you will encounter the Shipbreakers.”
“Who has spread such rumours?”
“They are not rumours. The word has come through the Intercessors.”
“Lady Asea is an accomplished sorceress. She can protect any ship.”
“The Light preserve her, at sea the Quan are supreme. If they decide a ship will sink, it will sink. I have seen it happen.”
“You have seen it?”
“In my youth, when I sailed with the Summer Fleet there was a captain who took it into his head to blaspheme in their Temple. He was a bold man, an Ilimarian, and he feared nothing. For a bet he went to Temple and pissed in the sacred pool. For a week thereafter he wandered around the city, drunk and boasting how nothing had happened to him despite his actions.”
“And?”
“When the Summer Fleet set sail for the Middle Sea we were no sooner out of harbour than his ship was destroyed. One minute it was there, a triple-masted forty gunner; the next it was gone.”
“It hit a rock?”
“In the open sea round Harven? It’s clear that you are not a sailor, Lieutenant. No — it was pulled down. I saw it with my own eyes. Massive tentacles, covered in suckers with leech-like mouths, emerged from the sea. Each was the size of a tower. They wrapped themselves round the ship and pulled it below, shattering it to splinters. No man survived.”
“Some must. They could have swum clear.”
The merchant smiled coldly and shook his head. “There were things in the water, Lieutenant, that made sure that when a man went down he never came back up. There were no survivors. Not a man-jack of the crew ever saw port again. It was a lesson to everybody, and everybody learned from it. You don’t defy the Quan and sail the Northern Seas, Lieutenant. And when the Intercessors say something is not to be done, it will not happen in Harven. The Quan don’t interfere here often, but when they do, they are obeyed. They are the real rulers of this city, Lieutenant, and that’s a fact. You could threaten to kill and torture every captain in this harbour, and they still would not take you, and do you know why, Lieutenant?”
“I suspect you are going to tell me.”
“You can only kill a man, Lieutenant, but the Quan, and that’s what those things were in the water that day, they will eat your soul.”
The merchant’s manner left Sardec in no doubt that he believed every word he said. He knew then that they were not going to be able to get out of Harven by ship.
Rik felt as if his mouth was full of rotten flesh, that his tongue was a bloated worm, that his limbs were made from mouldy cloth. All strength had been drained out of him. Terror filled him as memories of what had happened flooded back into his mind.
He opened his eyes and looked around. The walls were wooden. He could hear the sea lapping against them. The air was damp and salty. The floor was at an odd angle. Malkior stood in the corner of the room; his face was lit by a glowstone placed within an old naval lantern.
“You can shout if you like,” said Malkior. “No one will come. They are used to hearing screams from these old hulks.”
If the situation had not been so serious, Rik could almost have smiled. It was a situation straight out of those old chapbooks he used to read. He was a prisoner on one of the dreaded harbour prisons. He wondered if he could escape in any of the ways the heroes of his youth had.
He looked down at his feet. He was, as he had expected to be, chained. The weight dragged at his ankles and made it impossible for him to move more than a stride away from the walls.
“They have used these ships as prisons for over two hundred years,” said Malkior conversationally. “No one has ever escaped.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“You have read too many storybooks. The Sea Devils take any swimmers they find in the waters around the hulks. Young Quan, hungry ones, wait here for just that purpose. It’s one of the few places in the harbour they are permitted to do so by their elders.”
“You seem to know a lot about them.”
Malkior shrugged. “We share certain tastes in common. I have been in touch with them for many years. They are fascinating creatures, if a little horrid.”
Rik fumbled at his wrists. He was surprised to discover that both his hidden pistol and his knife were still there. Cautiously he loosened the pistol in its holster. He might still have a chance to escape, he thought. He could threaten Malkior with the gun and get himself unchained then use him as a hostage to get off the hulk. Instinct warned him that it could not possibly be that easy, but he decided he had better give it a try. He let the pistol drop into his hand. He raised it and pointed it directly at Malkior’s belly.
“You will order me released. You will not come close enough to touch me. If you do I will put a bullet in your gut.”
Malkior laughed at him. The sound was rich with mockery and in that moment Rik hated him enough to pull the trigger. Only his even stronger desire for self-preservation kept him from it.