“Honor, then, is important to the elves?”
“Important!” Hugh grunted. “They’d sell their souls for it, those souls the vultures don’t get first.”
Interesting to know. Haplo stored up the information. His lord was in the market for souls.
“So we’re taking a boatload of elven pirates up to the High Realm.” Alfred sighed, then began nervous fussing. “Your Highness, you must be tired. Let me put up one of these hammocks . . .” Tripping over a plank, the chamberlain sprawled facefirst on the deck.
“I’m not tired,” protested Bane. “And don’t worry about my father and these elves. My father’ll take care of them!”
“Don’t bother getting up,” suggested Hugh to the prostrate chamberlain. “We’ll be flying through the Maelstrom and then no one’ll be on his feet. Everyone sit down and brace yourself.”
Sound advice. Haplo could see the first storm clouds scudding past. Lightning flashed blindingly; thunder boomed. The ship began to pitch and buck. The Patryn relaxed in a corner. The dog curled up, nose to tail, at his feet. Alfred hunched miserably against the bulkhead and pulled a protesting Bane down by the seat of his pants.
Only Limbeck remained standing, staring entranced out the porthole.
“Limbeck,” said Haplo. “Sit down. It’s dangerous.”
“I can’t believe it,” murmured the Geg, without turning.
“There are no gods . . . and I am going to heaven.”
43
Lieutenant Bothar-in, now captain Bothar’el[19], sailed the dragonship safely through the Maelstrom. Keeping clear of encounters with other elven ships, he steered for the Aristagonian port town of Suthnas—a safe haven recommended by Hugh the Hand. Here he planned to stop briefly to take on food and water and to rid his ship of the geir, the former captain’s body, and the geir’s little box.
Hugh knew Suthnas well; he had put up there when his ship needed the magic strengthened or repairs. He gave the elf captain the name because he, the Hand, intended to leave the ship himself.
The assassin had made up his mind. He cursed the day he met that “king’s messenger.” He cursed the day he had saddled himself with this contract. Nothing had gone right; now he had lost his own dragonship, almost his life, and damn near his self-respect. His plan to capture the elven ship had worked, but like everything else he touched these days, not the way it was supposed to. He was to have been the captain, not this elf. Why had he let himself get caught up in that damn duel? Why hadn’t he just killed them both?
Hugh was shrewd enough to know that if he had fought, he and all the others would probably be dead right now. But he ignored the logic. He refused to admit that he had done what he had done in order to save lives, to protect Alfred, Limbeck . . . the prince.
No! I did it for myself. Not for anyone else. No one else matters and I’ll prove it. I’ll leave them, disembark at Suthnas, let these fools go on to the High Realm and take their chances with a mysteriarch. Forget it. I’ll write off my losses, toss in my cards, get up and leave the table. The port of Suthnas was run by elves whose purses meant more to them than politics, and it had become a haven for water smugglers, rebels, deserters, and a few renegade humans. The prisoners had a good view of the town from the porthole and most, after seeing it, decided they were better off where they were.
The town was nothing more than a squalid assemblage of inns and taverns built near the harbor; the homes of the town’s inhabitants bunched like a flock of sheep on the side of a coralite cliff. The buildings were shabby and run-down; a smell of cooked cabbage—an elven favorite—hung in the air, undoubtedly because mounds of it were rotting in the garbage-infested alleyways. But, because it stood in the sun, with blue sky above it, Suthnas was a beautiful and awe-inspiring sight to the Geg.
Limbeck had never seen streets drenched in sunlight, the firmament glittering like a million jewels in the sky above. He had never seen people strolling about aimlessly, not scurrying hither and yon on some business of the Kicksey-Winsey. He had never felt a gentle breeze upon his cheek or smelled the smells of living, growing things, or even things that were rotting and dying. The houses that Hugh told him were hovels seemed to the Geg to be palaces. Limbeck looked on all this splendor, and it came to him that what he saw had been bought and paid for by the sweat and blood of his people. The Geg’s face saddened, he became silent and withdrawn, and Haplo watched with a smile.
Hugh paced about the hold, staring out the portholes, fidgeting and inwardly fuming. Captain Bothar’el had given the assassin permission to leave if he wanted.
“You should all go,” the captain said. “Leave now, while you have the chance.”
“But we’re going to the High Realm! You promised!” Bane cried. “You promised,” he repeated, gazing up at the elf with pleading eyes.
“Yes,” said the elf, staring at the child. Shaking his head, as if to break a hold, he turned to Alfred. “And you?”
“I stay with my prince, of course.”
The elf turned to Limbeck, who, not understanding, looked at Haplo.
“I’m going to see the world, the whole world,” said the Geg firmly when he heard the translation. “After all, it exists because of my people.”
“I’m with him,” said the Patryn, smiling and jerking a bandage-wrapped thumb in the direction of the Geg.
“So,” said Bothar’el, turning to Hugh, “only you are leaving?”
“It looks that way.”
Hugh didn’t leave, however.
While they were docked, one of the midshipmen looked into the brig. “Are you still aboard, human? The captain is returning. You should go now, quickly.” Hugh didn’t move.
“I wish you would come with us, Sir Hugh,” said Bane, “My father would like very much to meet you and... thank you.”
That cinched it. The kid wanted him. He’d leave right now. Right . . . now.
“Well, human?” demanded the midshipman. “Are you coming?” Hugh fished around in a pocket, dragged out his last coin—payment for assassinating a child. Grunting, he tossed it at the elf. “I’ve decided to stay and find my fortune. Go buy me some tobacco.”
The elves did not linger long in Suthnas. Once the geir reached civilized lands, he would report the mutiny and the Carfa’shon would be sought by all the ships of the line. Once in deepsky, Captain Bothar’el worked the human slaves, the crew, and himself to the point of exhaustion until the ship was, he believed, safely beyond possible pursuit.
Hours later, when the Lords of Night had cast their cloak over the sun, the captain found time to speak to his “guests.”
“So, you heard the news,” were the captain’s first words, addressed to Hugh.
“I want you to know that I could have made a nice profit off the lot of you, but I have a debt to repay to you. I consider at least part of it canceled.”
“Where’s my tobacco?” Hugh demanded.
“What news?” asked Alfred.
The captain raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you know? I assumed that was the reason you didn’t leave the ship.” He tossed a pouch in the assassin’s direction. Hugh caught it handily, opened it, and sniffed. Removing his pipe, he began filling it.
“There’s a reward out for your head, Hugh the Hand.” Hugh grunted. “Nothing new.”
“A total of two hundred thousand barls.”
The Hand looked up and whistled. “Now, that’s a fine price. This has to do with the kid?” His glance shifted to Bane. The child had begged pen and paper from the elves and had done nothing but draw ever since he came on board. No one interfered with his latest amusement. It was safer than letting him pick berries.
19
Suffixes attached to a name indicate rank. A captain’s name ends with “el.” A lieutenant’s name ends with “in.” A prince, such as Prince Reesh, adds the suffix “ahn” to his name.