“I agreed to bring your body back and I will. Dead or alive is up to you.”
“My body back. Why? What are you, a bounty hunter?” Abruptly he stopped. Ulin, carefully watching his face, saw the light of realization spread into his eyes. “Of course,” Kethril breathed. “Last night, on the boat. Someone mentioned my daughter. What is she doing in Flotsam?” The full ramifications of his predicament exploded in his clearing mind, and the shock waves twisted his features into a mask of despair. “Oh, departed gods, I don’t believe this!” he shouted. “Flotsam! They’ll kill me!”
Ulin rose to his feet and said coldly, “Probably.” He turned on his heel and went to help Notwen with the boat.
With the aid of the tide, the Second Thoughts pushed her way through the marsh and paddled down the main channel toward the cove. Ulin thought the river seemed quiet and strangely empty of boats or people for midmorning. There was no one in sight, and even the marsh birds seemed subdued. He went to stand by the bow and shaded his eyes with his hand to scan the shore and look for the distant settlement.
The old shipwrecks and rickety buildings were still out of sight behind a low hill when Notwen called to Ulin, “There’s smoke over there.”
Both Ulin and Kethril turned their heads and saw thick gray smoke billowing into the sky from somewhere behind the hill. “That’s from the Cove,” said Kethril worriedly. He straightened and pulled until he worked himself to his knees, then he peered ahead, his entire body tense.
The paddleboat steamed slowly past the hill, around a gentle curve, and entered the open water. Dead Pirate’s Cove came into view. Ulin and Kethril strained to see the town and what trouble there might be. The first thing they saw were two fishing boats burning on the water.
“The gods speed us,” Kethril gasped first. “Get us out of here! Hurry!” he bellowed to Notwen. “It’s ghagglers.”
Notwen squeaked in alarm and threw the engine into full steam. Ulin had only brief glimpses of the burning settlement, of bodies in the sand, and worst of all, of people herded onto the dock at weapon’s point by large, two-legged monsters. Those glimpses were all he needed. His mouth dry, he dashed into the cabin, belted on his sword, and threw more fuel on the boiler fire. Ghagglers, he thought, fear burning in his belly. Cruel, blood-thirsty, and utterly without mercy, the sea species of sligs were the terror of the marine waters. Why, oh, why did they have to stumble on this place?
“Cut me loose!” he heard Kethril shout. “Cut me loose!” Ulin did not hesitate. There was no chance even Kethril Torkay would try to jump ship with the feared sea-sligs close by, and he needed all the help he could get. He dashed outside, sliced the rope binding the gambler’s hands, and thrust an oar at him.
Kethril looked over Ulin’s shoulder and turned pale. “They’re coming after us.” He struggled to his feet. “Bloody fiends. They must be desperate to be so close to shore.”
“Go, go, go!” Ulin yelled to Notwen.
The gnome leaned on the wheel to turn the boat away from the cove. The engine rumbled and steamed, and the paddlewheel thrashed like a mill wheel gone mad. Ulin grabbed another oar and paddled from the bow as fast as he was able.
But they were too late. Only a fully rigged clipper could outrun a pack of ghagglers on the hunt in shallow water. Ulin glanced down once and stifled a cry. A dark, gray-green body flashed through the water like a porpoise and disappeared under the boat.
“Notwen, get out of sight!” Ulin screamed.
Clawed, horny hands grabbed the gunwales and three hideous faces peered over the edge at Kethril and Ulin. Kethril flattened one with an oar, but a fourth reared out of the water and snatched the oar from his hand. Ulin drew his sword. He brought the blade arching down on the hands of a sea-slig and knocked it screeching back into the water. Two more swiftly slithered up the sides of the boat and tried to crawl over the rail.
Without warning a horrendous sound slammed across the deck. Startled ghagglers ducked back into the water, and both men stumbled back from the edge of the deck. Steam poured from the cabin as the paddlewheel groaned to a halt. Like a kite broken loose from its string, the Second Thoughts sheered sideways from its course and began to drift with the wind across the bay.
The unexpected and abrupt change in movement threw Ulin and Kethril off balance. As they struggled upright, Ulin saw something brown flash through the air toward Lucy’s father. He lunged forward to grab him when a similar something dropped over his own head and entangled his arms. A net as strong as steel and reeking of decay was jerked around his body. Tiny barbed hooks sank into his clothes, his hair, his skin, and he was pulled off his feet. He saw Kethril collapse under another net, and he saw the man’s body yanked off the boat into the water. A tremendous wrench knocked the air from his lungs. Before he could draw another breath, Ulin was pulled off the boat, and the warm, salty water closed over his face.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Lucy stiffened. A taut, frightened expression settled over her face, and she froze in place, her hands poised over the pile of plums she had been admiring. Her skin bleached to a deathly pallor.
Bridget, Pease, and the fruit vendor looked at each other, puzzled by her reaction. “Are you all right, dear?” Bridget asked in her most motherly tone.
Lucy shook her head. Her knees gave way, and she sank down on a nearby barrel. On her head the turban faded to a sickly gray. “I just had the strangest feeling that something is wrong.” She rubbed her aching temples.
The market around her was unchanged. It was still noisy, crowded, and bright with light and color. She had spent the morning collecting fees, calibrating scales, and visiting with people. There was absolutely no reason for this cold, sickening feeling that had sunk its claws into her belly and head.
The older kender paled. She drew back under the awning and scanned the skies for any sign of the red dragon. Pease, who was accustomed to his mother’s reactions, put his arm around her shoulders. “I didn’t hear the horn, Ma. Maybe Lucy meant something else.”
As quickly as it had come, the odd sickly feeling subsided from Lucy’s mind, leaving only an aftertaste of fear. “I don’t know what it was or where it came from. I’ve never felt anything like that before.” She let out a long, cleansing breath to help ease her pounding heart. Some of her color slowly returned, and as it did, the turban brightened to its customary shimmering blue. Lucy cocked her head and looked north where the bay glittered in the midday sun and stretched out to an indistinct horizon. “I hope Ulin is all right,” she murmured.
Bridget’s nervousness retreated when she did not hear the signal horn. Her body trembled once as if to shake free of the fear, and she came to stand by Lucy. Her round face crinkled with concern. “I’m sure he is fine. He is a strong lad, well used to taking care of himself. But you … Lucy … I …” She hesitated, stumbling over something she wanted to say. Her eyes sought the sky again. “You be careful,” she finally managed to say in a whisper Lucy could barely hear.
“Sheriff Lucy!” An irate shopper stomped up to them. “Come check the baker’s scale. I think he’s shorting the bread again!”
“Back to work,” Lucy said, trying to sound cheerful. She bought a handful of plums from the fruit vendor and followed the complainant through the market with Pease and Bridget close at her heels. Only once did she pause and look again to the north. “Hurry back, Ulin,” she prayed.
The Second Thoughts drifted silently out of the cove on the tide. Held by the current it drifted far from land and was soon caught by the warm water currents of the bay. The ghagglers, suspicious of the strange noises and fumes that emanated from it, left it alone and let it drift beyond their caring after they took the men. For hours it remained silent and seemingly empty. A few seagulls perched on the cabin for a while before winging away after a shoal of fish.