Part 22 (2/2)

For a long while Maskelyne kept his gaze on the mists ahead. Neither he nor Ianthe spoke. The lookout's lantern on the prow burned like a solitary star. The old dredger rocked gently back and forth as she ploughed on through the poisonous waters, her engines maintaining a steady rhythm. Maskelyne could sense the uneasiness of his crew in the way they moved about the deck and in the fas.h.i.+on in which they clutched their rifles. He noted how each man kept himself apart from his companions. The fog drew denser and bloodier until it coiled around the cranes like dragon's breath. Maskelyne had the impression that they were moving into some strange borderland that was not a part of this world.

The lookout's lantern began to swing for the third time.

'Where is it?' he asked Ianthe.

She was clearly terrified. 'I don't know.'

'The lookout can see it,' he growled.

She pointed straight ahead. 'There!'

And then Maskelyne spotted it. The deads.h.i.+p reared suddenly out of the thick fog like a cliff. It was almost upon them. Maskelyne cursed and spun the wheel hard to port. He wrenched the engine throttle into reverse. But he already knew that it was too late. The Unmer ironclad was going to crash straight into their starboard side, and there was no way Maskelyne could avoid it.

Granger crept along the crew deck companionway until he found a hatch leading down to the gun deck. He listened, and, hearing nothing, slipped down.

A low s.p.a.ce ran the width of the s.h.i.+p, divided here and there by mast-collars and monstrous steel-reinforced ribs of dragon-bone. The firing hatches on either side were open, and the emperor's ranks of bronze cannons gleamed dully in their tackles and breech ropes. The guns were antiques, Imperial Ferredales, forged in Valcinder at least three centuries ago extraordinarily old and rare, and yet crafted with such skill and precision that their power and range could match many modern sh.e.l.l weapons. Granger almost choked to see that the lanyards now connected to retrofitted flintlock mechanisms in each breech. Each gun must have been worth three million gilders before Hu had ordered them vandalized in this way. Rams, swab buckets and powder rods lay upon the floor beside each gun, while stacks of various missiles sacks of grapeshot, chain shot and troughs of heavy iron b.a.l.l.s filled the central s.p.a.ce between the opposing bulwarks. The powder would be held in the deck below, accessed via a series of smaller hatches he could see in the floor. There was not a crewman in sight.

Granger's skin itched and burned, but the pain had diminished somewhat. His eyes still felt hot and raw. He paced the gun deck, marvelling at the size of these reinforced dragon-bone arches. Sixty mature serpents had been slaughtered to construct this s.h.i.+p, among them Garamae the Betrayer, who was said to have devoured Lord Marquetta's baby son during the armistice in 1403. He crouched down and pulled up one of the powder hatches and sniffed. A sulphurous odour filled his nostrils. A faint green glow illuminated an iron floor.

Granger walked over to one of the port gun hatches and peered out. He could see the bone corral upon the dockside, the emperor's podium, and the Administration Buildings rising up beyond. Most of the crowd had spread along the water's edge and were staring into the brine, along with many of the emperor's crewmen. Hu himself stood by the harbour steps beside his launch, guarded by his Samarol bodyguards. He appeared to be having an animated discussion with Administrator Grech and Briana Marks.

Granger padded back to the powder hatch and dropped down. He found himself in a small iron cell. Parchment cartridges of powder stood in neat stacks against the walls. Shelves held boxes of flints, coils of cambric fuse, shredded sailcloth and sealed jars of phosphorous that gave off a dim green luminance. He grabbed an armload of cartridges, then stuffed a handful of flints into his pocket along with a few yards of fuse and climbed back up to the gun deck.

One of the forward hatches offered him the best angle of fire. He sighted along the cannon's barrel, and, satisfied, winched the heavy gun carriage back on its wheels using the rear tackle. He swabbed the barrel interior, then shoved the powder cartridge down inside it, followed by a cloth wad. Then he picked up a ram and tamped the powder home. From the centre of the deck he took one of the grapeshot sacks and rammed that down the barrel after the charge. Lastly, he forced in another wad of cloth to keep the shot in place, and then heaved the gun carriage back up against the bulwark by alternating between each of the side tackles.

Granger took a moment to catch his breath. His arms ached from the exertion. His own sweat stung his altered skin like vinegar poured into a wound. He felt sore all over, irritable, impatient. His every instinct screamed at him to get away now. Find the bridge, fight your way in if need be lock the doors, gun the s.h.i.+p's engines and get out of here. Find the bridge, fight your way in if need be lock the doors, gun the s.h.i.+p's engines and get out of here. He could turn the He could turn the Excelsior Excelsior back into the Glot Madera, run as far as he could before the skeleton crew broke the door down, use a powder bomb to bluff his way out, or just blow himself to h.e.l.l and take as many of them down with him as he could. But his need for revenge wouldn't let him leave yet. He took hold of the lanyard behind the gun's breech and peered out of the hatch again, letting his gaze roam over the milling crowd of jailers, administrators and soldiers. He couldn't see the emperor anywhere. back into the Glot Madera, run as far as he could before the skeleton crew broke the door down, use a powder bomb to bluff his way out, or just blow himself to h.e.l.l and take as many of them down with him as he could. But his need for revenge wouldn't let him leave yet. He took hold of the lanyard behind the gun's breech and peered out of the hatch again, letting his gaze roam over the milling crowd of jailers, administrators and soldiers. He couldn't see the emperor anywhere.

A sudden roar came from the launch's engines. Had Hu already boarded his pilot vessel? Granger couldn't see him on the deck. He must already be inside. Granger cursed and rubbed madly at his burning eyes. The launch was too low in the water. The grapeshot wouldn't hit it from this angle. The cannon's barrel was aimed firmly at the crowd.

But then he spotted the emperor emerging from amidst the group of administrators at the top of the steps. He was still within range.

Granger stepped back from the cannon and pulled the lanyard.

An enormous concussion sounded. The gun carriage slammed backwards against its breech rope. Grapeshot burst out of the barrel, scattering in the air, and tore through the dockside crowds. Through drifting smoke Granger saw dozens of men and women drop, their flesh torn open by the tiny missiles. He glimpsed b.l.o.o.d.y clothes, scores of wounds. Someone screamed.

Emperor Hu remained standing exactly where he was, clutching his face. And then his bodyguards closed around him and bustled him roughly down the steps towards the waiting launch.

Granger had missed his target.

He cursed again. Then he s.n.a.t.c.hed up the remaining powder cartridges, and ran with them to the nearest ladder. He climbed up and hurried through the crew quarters, his heart thumping wildly. Near the rear of the s.h.i.+p he found a stairwell that looked likely to take him up to the bridge. But as he started to climb, he came face to face with another man who had been rus.h.i.+ng in the opposite direction.

The insignia on the man's white uniform marked him as the first officer. When he saw Granger he halted abruptly and his eyes widened with alarm. 'You . . .' he began. But he couldn't find the words to finish his sentence. Granger, with his scorched flesh and howling red eyes, must have made a terrifying spectacle.

The officer suddenly reached for the pistol at his belt.

Granger kicked the man's legs out from under him.

He fell back heavily onto the stairs. He fumbled for his pistol again.

Granger s.n.a.t.c.hed the seeing knife from the band of his breeches and plunged it upwards into the other man's neck. He pinned the officer's arms with his knees, holding the dying man down while he choked and gurgled on his own lifeblood. It was over in a moment.

Granger wiped the seeing knife clean on the officer's uniform and carried on up the stairwell.

He reached the top of the stairwell without further incident, clutched the powder cartridges close to his chest, and flung open the door to the bridge. It was empty. Three outward-sloping gla.s.s windows composed of innumerable tiny panes offered views to port and starboard, and ahead across the Excelsior Excelsior's foredeck to the Haurstaf wars.h.i.+p berthed further out from the quayside. A sweeping control bank of lacquered wood and gold piping curved around the silver and bone s.h.i.+p's wheel. The rear wall had been exquisitely carved with dragon motifs, hunting scenes and Imperial seals. An enormous steel harpoon hung there like a trophy, over a bra.s.s plaque that read: Garamae's Thorn. Garamae's Thorn. No fewer than ten gem lanterns adorned the ceiling, all s.h.i.+ning in hues of pink, gold, orange and green. No fewer than ten gem lanterns adorned the ceiling, all s.h.i.+ning in hues of pink, gold, orange and green. Not a man in sight. Not a man in sight. Granger could scarcely believe his luck. Evidently Hu had deemed it unnecessary to keep even a skeleton crew in charge of his own yacht's bridge. Granger could scarcely believe his luck. Evidently Hu had deemed it unnecessary to keep even a skeleton crew in charge of his own yacht's bridge.

He closed the door behind him. Through the port window he spied the emperor's launch scudding across the harbour towards the s.h.i.+p's boarding ladder. There was no time to spare. He scanned the engine gauges and controls. Boiler pressure, good. Water level, good. Engine oil. Fuel oil. Feed c.o.c.ks. Decomp. Hydraulics. Pressure valves. Primer shunts. Boiler pressure, good. Water level, good. Engine oil. Fuel oil. Feed c.o.c.ks. Decomp. Hydraulics. Pressure valves. Primer shunts. Everything was in order. A separate bank under the forward window contained an array of meteorological and navigational instruments barometers, chronographs, compa.s.ses and the like but he ignored those for now. Likewise the comspool. He had to hope the engine room crew had been lax enough to keep the main whale-oil feed line open, or he'd be running on reserve. Everything was in order. A separate bank under the forward window contained an array of meteorological and navigational instruments barometers, chronographs, compa.s.ses and the like but he ignored those for now. Likewise the comspool. He had to hope the engine room crew had been lax enough to keep the main whale-oil feed line open, or he'd be running on reserve.

He primed the engine and opened the oil feed c.o.c.ks, then pumped the decompression lever until the gauge levelled. Then he pressed down firmly on the first of the three copper shunts.

Far below he heard the engine grumble into life.

'Let's see what you can do,' he muttered.

Granger opened half the air shunts, spun the wheel hard to starboard and twisted open the main-line feed-through c.o.c.k. Steam hissed behind the control panel. Hydraulic power valves snapped open. The great s.h.i.+p gave a slight tremble and then began to slide forward.

A hail of rifle shots burst through the port window, showering Granger with shards of gla.s.s. He grinned maniacally and then pumped the main-line primer and opened the rest of the air shunts. The bridge juddered heavily in response.

The s.h.i.+p began to pick up speed.

Granger watched the bow of the Haurstaf man-o'-war slide by as he took the Excelsior Excelsior out into the harbour. Ahead, he could now see the gates of the Glot Madera heave into view. A fis.h.i.+ng boat and two ca.n.a.l ferries made sudden course changes to move out of his way. out into the harbour. Ahead, he could now see the gates of the Glot Madera heave into view. A fis.h.i.+ng boat and two ca.n.a.l ferries made sudden course changes to move out of his way.

From the control deck came a steady clacking sound, as the s.h.i.+p's comspool began disgorging a message it had printed onto a thin strip of paper. Evidently there were were crewmen aboard somewhere. They would probably be down in the engine room, which meant they might not yet be aware that the emperor was not aboard. Granger tore the tape loose and read it. crewmen aboard somewhere. They would probably be down in the engine room, which meant they might not yet be aware that the emperor was not aboard. Granger tore the tape loose and read it.

ER NO/REC ORDERS/TO OPEN MAINFEED AI

Awaiting instructions. The ER ER glyph meant the message had indeed come from the engine room. Granger clicked open the pressure cap, turned the destination-wheel round to its glyph meant the message had indeed come from the engine room. Granger clicked open the pressure cap, turned the destination-wheel round to its ER ER setting, and then dialled and punched in a reply using five of the seventy-three commands available on the command wheel. setting, and then dialled and punched in a reply using five of the seventy-three commands available on the command wheel.

BR CONFIRM REQ/OPEN MAINFEED EJH/DANGER REQ/ALL HASTE

He depressed the release valve and heard a series of phuts phuts as his reply disappeared into the s.h.i.+p's warren of steam messaging pipes. A comspool in the engine room would begin typing it out almost at once. The as his reply disappeared into the s.h.i.+p's warren of steam messaging pipes. A comspool in the engine room would begin typing it out almost at once. The Excelsior Excelsior meanwhile was now building up speed as she pa.s.sed through the gates of the Glot Madera. The great Ethugran Administration Buildings loomed to port and starboard. Granger locked down the wheel and hurried over the port window. meanwhile was now building up speed as she pa.s.sed through the gates of the Glot Madera. The great Ethugran Administration Buildings loomed to port and starboard. Granger locked down the wheel and hurried over the port window.

Unable to match the yacht's pace, the emperor's launch had turned around and was heading back to the dockside. Hu himself was now standing on the smaller boat's deck, shouting and waving his hands up at his crewmen and soldiers on dry land. As Granger watched, the emperor's men began to commandeer vessels all along the quayside. They were coming after him.

The comspool on the control deck began its rhythmic clacking again. The briny smell of octopus ink came from its innards as tiny metal elements rattled away behind the printing wheel. It sounded out of sorts. Granger checked the device's oil reservoir, and then adjusted the steam inlet valve and feeder gearing. The tape began to spool out more smoothly.

ER CONFIRM REQ/VERIFY FLAG/YELLOW AI

He cursed. Someone in the ER crew wanted a verification code, and Granger didn't know the correct response. There were nine flag glyphs around the command wheel he could choose from. But which one? If he lucked upon the correct response, the engine room crew would open the main fuel feed line. If not, they'd shut down the engines immediately, thereby foiling his escape. Granger peered ahead along the Glot Madera. The deep-water channel ran straight for a thousand yards or so, before curving gently to the south-west. The Excelsior Excelsior would reach the corner in two or three minutes. An eight-to-one chance of choosing the correct coded reply? It wasn't good enough. He couldn't allow the crew to stop him here. He dialled in a different response. would reach the corner in two or three minutes. An eight-to-one chance of choosing the correct coded reply? It wasn't good enough. He couldn't allow the crew to stop him here. He dialled in a different response.

BR NO CONFIRM/TAPE FOUL REQ/REPEAT LAST MESSAGE

With the wheel still locked in place and the Excelsior Excelsior firmly fixed on her current heading, Granger picked up the last of his powder cartridges and left the bridge. He had minutes to reach the engine room and then get back to the wheel. And less time yet to murder the crew. firmly fixed on her current heading, Granger picked up the last of his powder cartridges and left the bridge. He had minutes to reach the engine room and then get back to the wheel. And less time yet to murder the crew.

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