Part 53 (2/2)

'We did burn our clothes,' Pazel interrupted. 'On Bramian, Dr Chadfallow insisted. And he made us scrub in a river - wash our hair, clean under our nails. We nearly froze to death.'

Bolutu gave a great sigh. 'That's all right, then. Yes, I know what an eguar is, though I have never seen one. They are ancient creatures, ancestors of dragons. The poisons in their breath and secretions are a thousand times more lethal than that of the deadliest snake, and the magic in their blood is akin to that raging fire in which the world was made. When the maukslar maukslar, the demon lords, reigned in Alifros, they kept eguar as palace watchdogs. Most have died out. Where they die a crater opens, as if the land itself were decaying with the corpse. Living eguar are terribly rare today. I did not know that any were to be found north of the Nelluroq.'

'And ”the world my brethren made” ?'

Another pause. 'I don't know,' said Bolutu at last. 'Perhaps it merely wished to frighten you.'

'Well it succeeded,' said Pazel. 'All right, it's time to go.'

'And still there is more I would say,' said Bolutu with regret. 'But I suppose it must wait.'

'You suppose right,' said Pazel firmly. 'No more talking. Follow me.'

They opened the door and stepped out of the vault, into a narrow pa.s.sage formed by stacked crates. It was just as dark and stuffy here as in the vault itself, for this entire corner of the hold was cut off from the rest by a fluke arrangement of cargo and retaining walls. The crew called the area the Abandoned House, and it hadn't taken long to see why. Pazel crept along the rattling planks over the bilge well, feeling water slop against his toes, bracing himself with his hands. After a dozen steps his right hand found the ten-inch gap he was looking for, and he made Bolutu stop. Turning sideways, they slid into this crack and shuffled another ten yards. There was a second turn, and the pa.s.sage widened, and then they were at the scuttle, that narrow emergency stair that was the only way in or out of the House.

Goodbye, Pazel! Diadrelu's voice came softly, from twenty or thirty feet to his left. Diadrelu's voice came softly, from twenty or thirty feet to his left. I will visit you this evening, if I can. Right now I must go to Hercol, who needs me. You've done well, my dear boy. You've kept your head, and followed your heart. I will visit you this evening, if I can. Right now I must go to Hercol, who needs me. You've done well, my dear boy. You've kept your head, and followed your heart.

He had never heard such open affection in her voice, and wondered at it, and wished he could say something in reply. He waved a hand in the darkness, hoping she had not turned away.

Up the steep stair they climbed, carefully skipping the top step, and emerging at last onto the mercy deck. The blackness was still almost perfect, but Pazel could hear distant thumps and mutterings from the decks above. We've stayed too blary long We've stayed too blary long. He gave Bolutu a firm nudge to starboard. That way. A hand touched Pazel's shoulder, and then he was gone.

Pazel walked in the opposite direction, as quickly as he dared. Like every deck, the mercy had a large central compartment, surrounded by cabins, pa.s.sages and storage areas. But on the lower decks, where no cannon could be placed, these central compartments were smaller, and the surrounding chambers more extensive. Pazel's escape route wound through a maze of crates and pa.s.s-throughs and dividing walls. There would not be a single soul on duty at this hour; the trouble, if it came, would be from men who were not not on duty but there for other reasons, such as buying or selling deathsmoke. Some said that addicts would kill anyone who stumbled across them, lest their names be reported to the captain. on duty but there for other reasons, such as buying or selling deathsmoke. Some said that addicts would kill anyone who stumbled across them, lest their names be reported to the captain.

So easy to get lost. His fingers read the walls: old tar, bent nails, cool bra.s.s of a speaking-tube. Time and again he had to stop and feel the pitch of the s.h.i.+p. Several times he heard gasping exhalations in the dark: addicts tended to hold the smoke in their lungs as long as possible, wanting every last iota of pleasure from the drug that was killing them.

Then at last he caught the faint mix of smells he had been sniffing for: woodsmoke, ham, salted fish. His fingers touched a door: the smells were stronger when he pressed his nose to the crack. Pazel sighed with relief: it was the smoke cellar, where meat was cured and kept for lean times far from land. That meant the ladderway was just ahead. He could scurry up them to the orlop, slip across to the Silver Stair, and race straight to the upper decks. No one would see him, and if they did he could just say he was making for the heads, which come to think of it, wasn't a bad idea-- 'Stop right there,' someone whispered.

Pazel froze. He gave a silent but very pa.s.sionate curse. The voice was Jervik's.

The big tarboy stood right in front of him. Pazel could hear his breath, though he could still see only a slight perturbation in the darkness where he stood, arms spread wide across the pa.s.sage.

'Don't you blary move,' said Jervik. 'I'll make a scene, I will. I know where you've been, and what you've all been doing. Your mates have been b.u.mping around here for twenty minutes. I watched 'em all go by.'

We're dead, Pazel thought. But his new training did not fail him: before Jervik could move Pazel had sprung back two steps, and his hand, almost of its own accord, had drawn his father's knife. The knife Jervik had stolen once, and threatened to use on Pazel himself.

'What are you waiting for Jervik?' said Pazel acidly. 'Run off and tell Arunis. Get yourself another gold bead. Maybe two, if Rose actually executes one of us.'

He crouched, waiting for the attack. To his great surprise Jervik neither moved nor spoke. It occurred to Pazel that the big tarboy must actually have heard very little: they would all have known better than to talk, while still so deep in the s.h.i.+p. Jervik was sneaking and spying, that much was obvious. But he'd hardly be standing here, confronting Pazel in pitch blackness, if he knew what had happened in the liquor vault.

With the thought, a great rage boiled up in Pazel's chest. Always Jervik. Every time things started to go right.

'You're fis.h.i.+ng for clues, aren't you?' Pazel said, barely able to keep his voice down. 'You didn't hear us at all, and now you're hoping I'll cough up something Arunis will pay you for. No matter what he can do with that something. No matter what he's trying to do to us all. The world can burn on a stake, can't it, Jervik? You'll still have your gold.'

'Muketch--'

'My name is Pazel Pazel, you useless sack of slag. Pitfire, I'm sick of you. Go on, get out of here. You want to make a scene make a scene, is that it? Right here?'

'Put your muckin' knife away. I want to switch.'

'I'll put it away in your G.o.d's-d.a.m.ned - what what ?' ?'

'Switch,' whispered Jervik, his voice barely audible. 'I want to switch sides, is what. Rin slay me if I'm lyin' to you.'

Pazel had to steady himself against the wall. 'Jervik,' he said, 'are you ill ?'

Jervik was silent, and when he found his voice again it was as tight as a backstay.

'Arunis was goin' to let me hang. He told me to watch you there on the bowsprit, but he never said you was stiff as a corpse. He wanted me to take the blame when you fell into the sea. He's unnatural bad.'

'You're just figuring this out?'

Jervik leaned closer; Pazel felt his hot sapwort breath on his face. 'He tries to get inside my head,' he whispered. 'To reach inside and take the wheel, you understand?'

'Maybe, yeah,' said Pazel, retreating a step.

'I won't let the son of a wh.o.r.e. He can't make me. But it hurts, Pathkendle. He pick-picks, pick-picks pick-picks, pick-picks. Day and night. Sleepin', wakin', eatin'. I don't let no one no one use me that way. He's a beast from the Pits and I wish him death.' use me that way. He's a beast from the Pits and I wish him death.'

Jervik was halfway to tears. Pazel wished he could see the older tarboy's face, although he feared what he would see there was madness. But mad or not, Jervik had never come closer to sounding sincere.

'I've been a pig,' said the older boy, wringing the words out of himself. 'A stump-stupid pig. I been tearing you down for years. Woulda knifed you back on the Eniel Eniel, with your daddy's own knife. No Arquali on that boat had such a fine knife, my own was rusty trash. You didn't even know how to use that knife. You shouldn't have owned it, nor been such a cleverskins. Arqualis own things, Ormalis get owned. You shoulda been a slave, not educated, not booklearned and special. I was boss of that s.h.i.+p until Chadfallow put you aboard.'

'I know that,' said Pazel.

'Couldn't get you to blary respect respect it,' said Jervik with a sour laugh. 'You fought like a wee girly, but you always fought. I hated you. Rin's liver, I hated you so. It got to where I thought I'd kill you, in some dark place like this, the way a coward would do it, and - you're better, Pathkendle, better than me.' it,' said Jervik with a sour laugh. 'You fought like a wee girly, but you always fought. I hated you. Rin's liver, I hated you so. It got to where I thought I'd kill you, in some dark place like this, the way a coward would do it, and - you're better, Pathkendle, better than me.'

'Jervik,' said Pazel, 'I'm not special. Things just keep happening to me. Ever since I was small. It's not me, mate. It's just - what happens.'

Jervik pulled himself up straight. 'I don't know what the blary h.e.l.l you're talking about.'

'Well, look,' said Pazel, 'I - Pitfire, Jervik, what do you want to do now?'

'Told you already,' said Jervik. 'Switch sides.'

'Right,' said Pazel, thinking in a desperate rush, glad the dark was hiding his panic. There was no question whatsoever of trusting Jervik with their secrets. But he had to say something, and fast.

'Right, Jervik, here's the thing. We have this - circle, that's true. But there's so few of us, and if they catch us talking, they'll just stab us dead, or lock us in the brig and torture us until we snap.'

'That's plain as p.i.s.s,' said Jervik.

'Exactly,' Pazel agreed, 'so you can bet n.o.body wants to get caught. That's why we made this little rule, Jervik. We have to all come together and talk it through, you see, before we bring anybody else into the circle. One mistake and we're dead, after all. You understand?'

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