Chapter 20 Bilgetown #3
“We seen the Channel maybe four months ago in Winterbright,” he said. “Only a flash, though. We don’t usually go into the Silence. We can, mind, ’cause o’ the wheels.”
“But the gaps, we seen ’em,” said de Sous. “We seen Rhi’fogginAhr sweep right through ’em.”
“Freighters?” asked Fahr.
“Coming and going,” said de Sous. “Aye.”
Fahr thought a moment.
“And the most recent breach?”
“Two weeks west, give or take,” said de Sous.
“Take,” said Polley. “Twelve nights.”
“Aye, twelve nights,” said de Sous.
“We closed that one,” said Fahr. “Caught us a pair of cruisers in the process. Smashed them right sharp.”
“The Endorathil,” said Polley. “Now, that’s the cruiser ye’ll want to smash.”
“She was bearing down on the Cartyr last we saw,” said de Sous. “Howan begged for our help, but we don’t mess with Ilvalour. One foggin’ chimeric ball, and this entire city goes down to the Old Sand.”
“She’s the terror of the Dreadtowns,” said Polley. “Scupper her hard, and the rest won’t dare set sail in the Northhelm.”
The glass in the port window rattled with a distant rumble, and we all looked up.
“Probably two of m’swabs fighting,” said de Sous, and he laughed for a moment before his face fell. “So. The chimeric, then?”
“Unfortunately, I trust you as much as I trusted Tarry Forks,” said Fahr.
“You put a shiv in your own magistrate’s heart, and that’s low, even for the Bilge.
So, here’s the plan. This here chest has enough chimeric to power all your wheels and all your cannons.
But we’re going to leave it, locked up nice and tight, and once we’ve cleared the Bilgegate, the mage here will release the spell.
The chimeric will be yours for the plunder. ”
Polley rose to his feet, and the men behind him raised their flints.
“That is one bad plan, mate,” the big man said. “So, here’s a new one. We kill you all, ’cept the Blue, and keep the chest. She opens it, and we make her Bilgetown blackmage. How’s that sound, little Blue?”
I pushed my dark hair back from one ear, flashing the ring that swung there.
“Sorry, mates,” I said. “I took oaths to the Touchstone, and she took oaths with me. There’s little you could offer that would be as sweet.”
Polley slid a flint from his sash and stepped closer, towering over me.
“Oh, the little Blue from the Spits talks now, does she?” He waggled the flint under my nose. It was an odd piece, three-chambered to fire three shots. “Open the chest, little Blue.”
“I can’t,” I said. “The spell is on me.”
I pulled off my gloves and held up my hands, where the chimeric runescars crackled and danced.
De Sous pushed to his feet now.
“Bloody hels, then,” he growled. “Did Thanavar do that?”
“It’s a time spell,” I lied. “If I don’t release the lock, it’ll kill me. If I release it too early, it’ll kill me. If I release it too late, it’ll kill me.”
I was glad that Fahr wasn’t the only one who could lie.
“So, you see, I’m hoping that you allow us to leave, so I can open the chest.” I shrugged. “And not die.”
“He’s a cursed decklicker, he is,” growled de Sous. “I’ll kill him m’self, one day.”
“A shiv in his heart,” said Polley.
“He ain’t got one,” said de Sous.
The rumble came again, and this time, the floorboards beneath our boots shook.
“What the hels?” grunted de Sous.
“Thunder?” asked Fahr.
“How do we know there’s chimeric in there?” asked Polley, looking at the chest.
“Pick it up,” said Fahr, and he nodded at the commandeer. The big man moved toward it, grabbing the chest in both his hands. It thudded as he hoisted it up, and orange chimeric crackled from the lock.
He dropped it immediately.
There was a rap at the door, and a bearded face peered in.
“Sir?”
“I’m busy, Mr. Lean!”
“It’s the Nil’hellyn, sir…”
“What about the Nil’hellyn?”
“She’s moving, sir.”
“She’s bloody well boarded in!”
This time, the rumble became a roar, and the floor tilted dangerously toward us. The bottle tipped, but Fahr caught it. When he rose to stand, his chair slid across the floor. He didn’t bother to catch it, and it bumped into the far wall.
“It’s him, ain’t it?” growled de Sous. “He’s come for the Nil’hellyn.”
The Nil’hellyn? That sounded like a ship, but what did it mean?
Another boom, then the sound of squealing metal.
“Forge damn that Rhi’Ahr bastard. I should’ve known.” The wiry man slid his gaze to us. “Tell ’em to sink his beloved ship, Mr. Lean. Tell ’em to sink her hard.”
Lean ducked, but Fahr flung his hand and slammed him into the wall with a Rhi’Ahr bind spell. The man struggled but could not move.
De Sous slid a flint from the sash at his waist, pointed it squarely at Fahr.
“I’m disappointed, Mr. de Sous,” said Fahr. He placed his boot on the chest, rocked it back and forth. “If you fire, we’re all done for.”
“Ye lie as well as yer captain, Mr. Fahr,” said de Sous. “But ye don’t think we’d come this close to the Ship of Spells, only to let her go for a tub of gunpowder, do ye?”
Another roar from the barge, along with more tremors. I could have sworn I heard shouting from outside, but it was drowned out by the drum of blood in my ears.
“It’s full of gunpowder and chimeric,” said Fahr. “The explosion will sink Bilgetown first, and the Touchstone will not help any of you.”
“Bilgetown blows, and the armada sinks yer ship.”
De Sous cocked his flint.
“The Sister Moons came for me ten years ago, Mr. de Sous,” said Fahr with a grin. “I eluded them then, and I’ll elude them now. I can’t say the same for you.”
And the mate kicked the chest over. Gunpowder spilled across the floor, and two balls rolled out. They were chimeric-laced ones I had cast myself, and they sparked orange as they rolled across the boards.
“We’re under attack!” cried a voice from outside.
“Praesidium, now!” shouted Fahr, and he smashed the bottle onto the powder-strewn boards at his feet.
De Sous fired.
And the cabin exploded like a cannon.