Part 49 (1/2)

Uram bowed. ”I shall, Great One.”

Yes, he'd have to be careful. But this Captain Argoth would soon find he was not the only one prepared for battle.

Argoth ate at The Shark's Tooth like a starved man. Eggs, sausage, thick cream on cherry biscuits. He stopped a serving maid as she walked by. ”A bit of salted lard,” he said.

She bowed and hurried away. Lard, suet, b.u.t.ter, or cream-it didn't matter. What Argoth needed was great quant.i.ties of bread and fat, for that was what softened the hunger that would come when he multiplied himself.

The sun had not yet risen, but the Skir Master wanted an early start. ”Is the Captain easy at sea?” asked Uram.

”I regularly run the dreadman's course, including the two-mile swim,” said Argoth. ”And these are not tropical waters.” He bit into a juicy link of sausage.

”An admirable habit,” said Uram.

”Indeed,” said Argoth. ”One can do worse than modeling the diet and activity of dreadmen like yourself.”

”But what about the Captain's stomach? Fatty foods on a rolling s.h.i.+p has laid low the strongest of men.”

A man spoke from behind in a dry voice. ”There's no need to worry, Zu. Lord Iron Guts will not lose his breakfast.”

s.h.i.+m stood holding a mug of ale, a wide grin cracking his leather face.

Argoth considered s.h.i.+m for a moment, but he saw no sign that the man had come to betray him.

”Some lords prove their stamina by drinking the hardiest of men under the table. Not Lord Porkslop, he buries them with a mountain of food.”

”Blighter,” said Argoth with a mouthful of eggs. ”I didn't see you arrive.”

”Of course not,” said s.h.i.+m. ”Not with a plate of sizzling hogtail sausages calling you like a lover.”

Argoth grunted, then patted the stool next to him.

s.h.i.+m sat with his mug. ”Captain,” he said to Uram. ”Have you ever seen the like?”

”He does have a prodigious appet.i.te.”

”Prodigious? I dare say Argoth's stomach is by itself a force of nature. It is wise to keep all fingers outside the range of his fork.”

Argoth reached over and grabbed s.h.i.+m's mug. ”If you don't mind?”

”I do.”

But Argoth slipped it away, quaffed three gulps, then set it back down in front of s.h.i.+m. ”Nothing like a bit of ale with your eggs, eh?”

s.h.i.+m looked into his mug. ”Or a bit of eggs in the ale.”

It was like it had been; this was the man he loved, and Argoth laughed. In front of Uram, they discussed the defenses of the land, who would take Argoth's place. But when they stepped out of The Shark's Tooth onto High Street and began to walk down the cobblestone street to the wharves, s.h.i.+m turned serious.

”I received a love letter,” he said.

”Oh?” asked Argoth.

”Yes, they always want some proclamation, some proof. I daresay I don't know whether to write a stinging rebuke or show the sender some of my family history.”

s.h.i.+m reached into his coat. He retrieved an object, and then grasped Argoth's hand and placed it in it. ”My great, great grandfather made that.”

Argoth glanced down and it and closed his hand again. It was a weave, an ancient dead thing that looked like it should hang from a necklace, but a weave nevertheless.

s.h.i.+m put his arm around Argoth like a friend. ”Have I proven my love?”

s.h.i.+m was not a dreadman. That meant this weave was his or one loaned from another. In either case, it meant he had placed himself in grave danger because possessing such a thing was a crime punishable by death. Unless, of course, he was part of this Skir Master's plot.

Argoth looked into his friend's face, but found no deception. It was a risk to trust him, for s.h.i.+m hadn't been proven properly. But then this wasn't a proper situation either. Besides, s.h.i.+m had revealed his character through years of friends.h.i.+p.

Argoth sucked his teeth to get the last morsels out. As they walked a cart with a load of fish pa.s.sed them going up the hill. Argoth turned to see the dreadman following them and pa.s.sed the weave back.

”You don't need it?”

”No,” said Argoth. ”But you will. What else did Grandfather pa.s.s down?”

”Almost nothing.”

”Then you and I are going to have a long talk when I get back.”

”You're making me nervous,” said s.h.i.+m. ”The streets are choking with the Crab's men. I don't think we have that kind of time.”

”Such little faith,” said Argoth. ”You worry about the tactics. I'll worry about the strategy.”

s.h.i.+m rolled his eyes. ”I know what you're trying to do.”

”Oh?”

”I appreciate the sentiment, but now's not a time to protect your friends by keeping them in the dark.”

”Yes, it is. Especially if I don't return.”

”Well, then let's hope our blueberry Divine is as ineffectual as he seems.”

”Ineffectual?”

”You haven't heard?”

Argoth shrugged.

s.h.i.+m pointed at the Skir Master's chaser. ”Look.”

The chaser stood out from the other merchant s.h.i.+ps and galleys like a doe amid a herd of goats. The Ardent was a special s.h.i.+p; she stretched twice as long as she was wide, fine-lined, and able to set an amazing amount of sail. Half-a-dozen sailors scrambled up the rigging of the two masts. And then Argoth saw what s.h.i.+m was referring to. ”Why isn't she rigged with square sails?” A Skir Master's s.h.i.+p didn't need fore-and-aft rigging to sail close to the wind. You didn't tack in a Skir s.h.i.+p. You ran on an acre of square canvas, rigged with wide studdingsails on booms to both sides of each of the main sails. You ran like a dolphin in the wake of the creature's wind.

”The old skir died on the voyage over.”