"Exactly," Norvis said. "Now, as soon as the Krand has been rebuilt, you're ready to go."
"How about a crew?"
"That's your job," said Norvis. He smiled a little. "You're a better leader than I am, Kris peKym— did you know that?"
"I think I am," Kris agreed without conceit. "You're more of a plotter, Norvis peKrin. You can think up beautifully nasty schemes— but you don't know how to handle men."
"Precisely," said Norvis dryly. "That's why Del peFenn Vyless is the leader; I know my limitations. Hut enough of that. We have to move quickly."
He took Kris peKym's hand. "Good luck, Kris. May the Great Light bring success."
Chapter II
Just offshore, two days after the robbery, the schooner Krand floated peacefully at anchor in the harbor of Tammulcor. Kris peKym seated himself comfortably in a chair in his cabin and folded his arms across his broad chest.
He looked at his First Officer, who squatted cross-legged on the floor, and his face broke into a broad grin.
"You don't look worried, Dran peDran."
"I isn't," said the little Bronze Islander. "What does I has to worry about?"
"Well, we've got eight million weights in cobalt in the hold of this ship," Kris said nonchalantly. "If the citizens or the Peacemen of the Province of Dimay ever find out where it is, you and I will be hanging from the bowsprit, waiting for the sea lizards to swoop down and pick our corpses."
"Captain," Dran said, "if you is trying to sicken me, you is not succeeding. As long as you has your life, I is not worried about mine."
Kris laughed. "We've got them in an uproar, that's for sure. No one seems to be able to figure out who stole it or why, or where it went."
"They's got priests on the job now, though," Dran said. "I sees five of them around the bank this afternoon."
"What can they find? Nothing, Dran, nothing." At least, he thought, I hope they can't. He enjoyed poking small jibes at his First Officer, but there was a great deal of truth in what the little man said.
"We is been here two days, captain," Dran said. "I is getting nervous."
"If we'd sailed the day after the robbery," Kris pointed out, "we'd have been first on the list of suspects. As it is, we've got our honest cargo almost loaded, and the longshoremen have been over every inch of the ship. They'll know—"
He stopped. A voice had sounded over the waters of the Bay of Tammulcor.
"Hoy!" came a faint voice from above. "You— Aboard the Krand! Hoy!"
Kris peKym cocked his head to one side and listened.
"Hoy, dockboat!" he heard the lookout shout. "What is it?"
"We're special searchers for the Uncle of Public Peace," came the reply. "We'll see your captain!"
Dran shot to his feet. "By my Ancestors!"
Kris lifted his tall, muscular body from the chair, moving like a cat stalking its prey. "Relax, Dran peDran; I can handle this."
He climbed up the ladder to the deck. The torches on the masts shed a flickering orange light over the water, and from above the pale glow of the Lesser Light shining through the eternal clouds gave a ghostly monochromatic background to the circle of orange.
Kris walked over to the port bulwark and looked over the side. A dinghy with five men in it was pulling up to the ladder.
"I'm captain here," Kris told them. "What's your business?"
"Special searchers for the Uncle of Public Peace," the leader repeated.
Kris frowned. "Looking for what?" he asked sharply. "We have no criminals aboard."
"That's to be seen," the Peaceman said. "We're not looking for men anyway; we're looking for cobalt."
"For what? Now, look here—I've paid my harbor fee."
"We'll take none that's legally yours. Let us aboard."
Kris shrugged and signaled the deckman. "Lower the ladder."
As the live Peacemen came aboard, Kris just stood there, his balled fists on his hips, looking at them coldly. Several crewmen stood about, fingering handy belaying pins. The crew of the Krand was a tight, cohesive unit that stood firmly behind Kris.
"You're Captain Kris peKym Yorgen?" the official asked. "Commanding the Krand, out of Vashcor?"
"I am," Kris said coldly. "And now that you're aboard my vessel, you'd better prove you are who you say—or the sea-things will eat tonight."
It was the right thing to say, Kris knew. The other sea captains would be equally suspicious of anyone who came aboard their vessels. In the first place, Peacemen had no right to interfere in honest trade; in the second place, these might not be Peacemen in the first place.
The mob violence which had threatened Tammulcor and all of the Province of Dimay in the past two days made one suspicious of anyone and everyone.
The Peacemen fingered the heavy truncheons at their belts while their leader took a neatly-folded paper from his sash pouch. He handed it to Kris, who opened it and read the order from the Uncle of Public Peace.
He smiled and looked up. "Stolen cobalt, eh? What happened?" His voice was no longer truculent, and hands dropped from truncheons.
"Hadn't you heard that the Bank of Dimay was robbed?" the leader asked.
The words echoed oddly over the water.
"I had heard, yes," Kris said casually. "But not the details."
"One hundred manweights of cobalt were taken. A group of men struck the Keeper of the bank and took the money away." Kris saw the man glare at him sharply. "It was a most evil sin, and most incomprehensible."
Kris nodded. "True. What would anyone want with so much money? And why do you come to me?"
"The money must have been taken away somehow. It may be aboard a ship. We have to search every ship that comes into the harbor. You see that we—"
"I see," Kris said. He turned to his First Officer. "Dran peDran, show these men through the ship. Eight million weights of cobalt coin could not be hidden easily."
No indeed, Kris was thinking. It's hard to hide thirty-six cubic feet of metal. Especially when it's in the form of coin.
While Dran led the police below, Kris climbed to the bridge and leaned against the mainmast, watching the shore. The seconds passed slowly, and he found himself listening keenly to the sounds of the harbor—the creaking of a distant oar, the soft, unvarying lapping of the waves against the side of the ship, the sounds of men chanting far away on the shore or on some hauling-vessel entering the harbor.
The next few minutes would mean the success or failure of the voyage, Kris thought. And a failure here, at this time, might mean the failure of the whole Merchants' Party.
Kris smiled grimly. He'd staked his life with the Merchants—with Leader Del peFenn and with Secretary Norvis, It just wouldn't do to have the whole thing blow up in their faces right now, with Nidor still in the grip of the misguided Elders and the devil Earthmen hovering ambiguously in the background.
And now Captain Kris peKym stood on the deck of his ship, waiting for success—or failure. If the police found the secret of the double hull in the bilge of the ship, the whole project would collapse right there. It would do no good in the long run to kill the five investigators—though that would have to be done, of course. But the Uncle of Public Peace would know what had happened, and, within a day, Kris peKym Yorgen and his crew would be hunted men.
He waited patiently. There was no noise from below as yet. His men would come down on the hapless five with belaying pins just as soon as the fatal discovery was made— if it was made, that is. He steeled himself and waited for the outcome.