Chris Wooding - The Black Lung Captain

'Tell them about the door ,' Grist said impatiently.

'The door. Yes. Well, despite the vessel's broken hull, I could only access certain parts of the craft. You can imagine my excitement when I found a mysterious door.'

'A mysterious door,' Frey repeated, deadpan.

'Quite so! But when I touched it, the most abominable sensation came over me. My stomach turned, my head swam, and I was flung back, as if by invisible hands.'

'Hmm,' said Frey.

'I tried again, with the same result. I believe it was some form of Azryx technology, meant to guard their treasures. A barrier of some kind, composed of forces beyond my understanding. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't get in. Then I heard some creatures approaching -what kind of horrors, I couldn't say - so I grabbed the artefact you see before you and I fled. Not long after that, I found my way to the landing-site where our aircraft were, and I escaped.'

'Now I know this sounds far-fetched,' said Grist, as Frey opened his mouth to say so. 'Sounds that way to me, too. But before you speak, remember that Hodd here is willing to lead us back to that place. He's gonna show us every word is true. And I made it awful clear that if all ain't as he says, then he's gonna be wearing his guts round his neck.'

'Please,' said Hodd distastefully. 'There's no need for that. I'm an honourable man, and no liar.'

Frey gazed coolly across the table at Grist. Grist smiled back. The end of his cigar glowed red.

'So that's why you need my daemonist,' Frey said.

'Whatever trickery they put on that door, the one person who might be able to fix it is a daemonist,' said Grist. 'Am I right?'

Frey shrugged. 'I suppose so. I'd have to ask him.'

'Well, daemonists are a secretive lot, and yours is the only one I know how to find. Word spread of the golem you lot used in Rabban when you took on the Delirium Trigger .' He took the cigar from his mouth and exhaled slowly. 'Also, I'm short on time. Hodd here told everyone and their wives about this craft before I found him.'

'I was trying to raise the money to go back!' Hodd cried. 'Nobody believed that what I'd found was a genuine—'

Grist talked over him. 'Regardless, I've wasted weeks trackin' you down, Frey. If anyone's of a mind to take his story seriously, they'll be lookin' for that aircraft too. But what they don't have is Hodd here to guide them.'

'Can you find it again?' Jez asked Hodd.

'Most certainly! I'd bet my life on it.'

'You are betting your life on it,' Grist reminded him. He tapped ash from his grubby cigar on to the table and scratched behind his cauliflower ear. 'I'll be straight with you, Frey. I don't need you or your crew. I just need your daemonist.'

'We're a package,' said Frey.

'I reckoned as much. So I'll cut you in. Mark me, there's treasure on that craft. Your crew and mine, we'll find it. I can get it to people who'll know it's worth, and that worth is gonna be huge. Whatever I make, we split. Eighty-twenty.'

'That's very generous,' said Frey. 'And what will you do with your twenty per cent?'

Grist's eyes hardened, just a little. 'Seventy-thirty.'

'Fifty-fifty,' Frey countered.

'Sixty-five, forty-five,' Grist snarled.

'That adds up to a hundred and ten,' Jez pointed out.

'Fifty-fifty,' Frey said again, 'or we say goodbye right here. Your "plan" stinks like rancid dogshit and the only evidence of this vast wealth you're talking about is a lump of twisted metal and the promises of some half-baked inbreed. Frankly, I'm inclined to forget the whole thing and count myself one breakfast richer.'

'Half-baked inbreed?' Hodd squeaked.

'It's just how we talk,' Frey said, dismissing his protest.

Grist rolled his cigar around his mouth. 'Sixty-forty,' he said. 'And it's final. I got to pay Hodd's five per cent out of my cut, and I'm damned if I'm making less than you on my own expedition.'

'Five per cent? That's all you're giving him?'

'I had some trouble raising the finance, and I was getting rather desperate,' said Hodd, looking defeated. 'Captain Grist drives a hard bargain.' He brightened. 'But fame is my reward! I'll be the expedition leader on paper. That was the deal. At the least I'll get a lifetime membership to the Explorer's Guild. Probably.'

Frey finished his breakfast and pushed his plate away. This whole idea seemed shaky, and the idea of going to Kurg was deeply unappealing, but Frey wasn't in a position to be picky right now. Something had to be done to lift the crew of the Ketty Jay out of their rut. These past few months they'd been purposeless, moving from job to job, hauling cargo here, running escort there. The pay was pitiful, the work generally dull. For a brief time, after the destruction of Retribution Falls, they'd felt like buccaneers, lords of the sky. But then real life had seeped back in. Adventure had been in short supply ever since.

A man didn't get too many chances to make a fortune, and he had to grab them when he could.

This time he'd do it right. This time he'd make them all rich. He'd buy himself a place, somewhere. Something solid, firm, real. Somewhere he could come back to between adventures. A home. He'd never had a home of his own. Maybe that'd help. Maybe that'd fix things.

But he'd been burned before. The last time he went for the big money, he'd landed himself and his crew in the worst trouble of their lives.

But we got through it, he thought. And it made us into a crew.

He looked over at Jez, hoping to read her. Her opinion would help him decide. But she refused to show him anything. You're the Cap'n, Cap'n.

'Kurg,' he said to Grist. 'Monsters and beast-men. It's quite a risky business you're proposing.'

Grist puffed on his cigar. Pungent clouds surrounded his dirty, bearded face. He leaned forward, looming through the smoke with a yellow grin.

'Some things are worth riskin' everythin' for,' he said. He held out a rough-skinned, grubby hand across the table.

Frey stared at it for a long moment. Why not? It was better than being bored and poor the rest of his life. He held out his own hand. 'Fifty-five, forty-five.'

'Done, you thievin' son of a bitch!' Grist beamed, and clasped his hand in a crushing grip. 'Damn, but your men better pull their weight for that kind o' cut.' He glanced at Jez. 'And your women too, beggin' your pardon.' Then he slapped Hodd on the back and pointed at Frey. 'Now that's how you drive a hard bargain.'

The crew took the news well, with the exception of Harkins, who had to breathe into a paper bag for a while until his hysteria subsided. They had a few hours to make what preparations they could while they waited for Grist and his crew to sort themselves out. It was a day's flight to the coast and another half-day across the East Divide to Kurg. They'd be taking off as soon as everyone was ready. Grist was certainly in a hurry.he crew took the news well, with the exception of Harkins, who had to breathe into a paper bag for a while until his hysteria subsided. They had a few hours to make what preparations they could while they waited for Grist and his crew to sort themselves out. It was a day's flight to the coast and another half-day across the East Divide to Kurg. They'd be taking off as soon as everyone was ready. Grist was certainly in a hurry.

Frey went to see Crake in his quarters after he addressed the crew. The daemonist had been silent throughout, and Frey wanted to pick his brains in private about the strange barrier on the door that Hodd had encountered.