Robert Redick - The Rats and the Ruling sea

'Why didn't you tell me the murth-spell was still affecting you? Come on, we're going to Chadfallow right this minute.'

'No!' said Pazel. 'By the Nine Pits, Neeps, the last thing I want is another "cure" from Ignus! Besides, I don't need curing. I'm not under her spell.'

'Pazel, her sister tied me up and left me to drown. And she would have done the same to you if your Gift hadn't turned the tables and made her love you. You're lucky she's thousands of miles away.'

'Maybe she's not,' said Pazel. 'She… well, she showed up on Dhola's Rib. And I heard her voice tonight on the bowsprit.'

Neeps' face contorted helplessly. 'When were you going to say something, you witless prat?'

'When I thought I could trust you not to screw things up.'

'Trust me? Oh, that's priceless, that's just-' Neeps was apoplectic. He bit his lips, clawing at the air in front of Pazel's face. 'You make me angrier than just about anyone I know.'

'Anyone but your brother, eh? Your older brother.'

For a moment he thought Neeps would hit him. The small boy's face turned dark red, and his mouth tightened to a choleric scowl. 'I told you,' he said, 'never, ever to talk to me about brothers.'

'And I told you I'm not under any spell.'

'Really? What's this, then?' Neeps flicked away Pazel's hand, which he had raised unconsciously to his collarbone, found Klyst's shell beneath the skin — and pinched it, hard.

A searing pain flooded Pazel's chest. He cried out, as somewhere inside him a girl's voice wailed in anguish. He shoved Neeps with all his might; the smaller boy crashed against the block and tackle at the mizzenmast, and struck his head on the rail.

Pazel doubled over, hands on his collarbone. Neeps had not broken the shell, but the pain throbbed on. Klyst is terrified, he thought. She thinks I'm getting ready to cut out her heart. The sound of her voice was so real he found himself looking about for its source, though he knew the murth-girl would never appear on the Chathrand. Her words in the temple came back to him: Not allowed. I'd be trapped there, forever.

Neeps got shakily to his feet, rubbing his head. When Pazel reached out to steady him he knocked his hand away.

'I'm finished here,' he said. 'Your cannibal girl's welcome to you.'

He stalked off, and Pazel heard his feet clattering down the ladderway.

The pain took a long time to ebb. Pazel leaned against the mizzenmast, wondering who was more revolted at his behaviour, Neeps or Klyst herself. He had not been at it long when a shadow crossed his face.

It was Druffle. The pale spike of a man was drenched in sweat and smiling. His breath smelled distinctly of rum. 'Pathkendle!' he barked. 'What's this? You've been in a fight, haven't you?'

Pazel looked away; he had talked enough for one night. 'Not… a fight, Mr Druffle. Not exactly.'

'If it tastes like a duck, it's a duck, lad.'

Pazel could think of no fitting rejoinder, so he said, 'That sure was some music you played.'

'Somebody had to make that Burnscove halfwit stop torturing his fiddle. And a Plapp's Pier boy was baiting him, calling him a tuneless hack. Of course he was a tuneless hack, but many's the brawl that began when one man stabbed another with a painful truth. We're not built to put up with much truth, my Chereste heart.'

'Oppo, sir.'

'The girl's not worth it, you know.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'I saw you and Undrabust watchin' Miss Thasha. No girl's worth losin' a friend over — not even a sweet puff-pastry like her. Take it from an old lady's man: play the game calm and collected. Let Undrabust make a fool of himself. He's got a knack for it, and when he does you'll look all the better in her eyes.'

'Mr Druffle,' Pazel broke in. 'I appreciate your — guidance, really. But you're digging for clams in an oyster bed.'

Druffle laughed. 'By the sweet Tree, you make me miss Ormael! Haven't heard that one in years.' Then he looked sharply at Pazel, and a twinkle came to his eye. '"Digging for clams in an oyster bed." D'ye know who used to say that? Captain Gregory Pathkendle, that's who.'

Pazel jumped upright. 'You did know my father! You weren't just spinning yarns back on the Prince Rupin! Mr Druffle, tell me about him, please! When did you see him last?'

Druffle's face darkened. 'On the Haunted Coast, lad. When he and Mr Hercol led the charge against the Volpeks. 'Course I wasn't free to speak with him — that adder-tongued mage had me in thrall. But I saw Gregory fight his way onto that Volpek cruiser, side-by-side with Mr Hercol. A truly fearless man, Gregory. He took down the Hemeddrin's captain with one thrust.'

'He seems to be afraid of me,' said Pazel.

Druffle looked at him quizzically. 'Afraid? That's not what I'd call it.'

Before Pazel could ask what Druffle would call it, a hand fell heavily on his shoulder. Ignus Chadfallow was there, frowning.

'Pazel,' he said, 'come with me. I need to speak with you right now.'

Pazel shrugged off his hand and stepped away. 'What do you want? Mr Druffle and I-'

'You can trade stories with this rum-runner on your own time.'

'This is my own time.'

'Rum-runner, is it?' Druffle assumed an air of dignity. 'As a man of business, I'll have you know I take abjectness to that remark.'

Chadfallow turned Druffle a withering look. 'When I have need of your areas of expertise, such as the best means of passing off muskrat pelts as mink, I shall send for you. Come along, Pazel.'

Suddenly Druffle reached out and seized Chadfallow by the arm. 'You can't talk to me that way no more, Doctor sir,' he snarled. 'We're outside the Empire, and from what I hear you're no more right with the law than Dollywilliams Druffle, maybe less so.'

'This ship is the Empire, you fool,' said Chadfallow, 'and its laws apply here as they would in Etherhorde. Now unhand me before I have you caged like a beast.'

Druffle released him, but his eyes sparked with malice. 'Such good stock, the Chadfallows. Judges and ministers, doctors and dukes. Such a noble pedicure. But you're not above nicking another man's pastry now and then, are you?'

Chadfallow froze. Druffle eyed him with wicked delight. He turned back to Pazel.

'Aye, lad. Here's a question what's preyed on your mind: why did Gregory run off and leave you? Was he afraid of the Arqualis, afraid to fight for his country? No sir, not a bit of it. Fear never got the better of good Captain G. Why, he didn't even know the invasion was coming, because his dear friend Chadfallow didn't tell him.'

'What are you talking about?' said Pazel, as Chadfallow tried once more to draw him away.

'I heard it from his own mouth,' said Druffle, 'late one night, by a fire in the Fens. Your dad left Ormael when he learned that his beloved wife had taken up with his fine Arquali friend. That they'd been lovers for years. Because Gregory knew that if he didn't get away for a while he'd put a knife through the doctor's treacherous heart — or hers. You want to know why you grew up without a father, Pathkendle? The answer's standing right next to you.'

Pazel turned slowly to face Chadfallow.

'He's… lying, right? Tell me he's lying.'

Chadfallow managed a laugh. 'When is he not? If lies were wine, they'd name vineyards after this man.'

At that Druffle's face turned red as a tuna steak, and his hands clenched in fists. 'I was brought up to respect men of letters,' he growled, 'but you're no gentleman. You're a dressed-up Bilsburra ape, and you'd die of shame if you had any.'

Pazel stared at the freebooter, then looked at Chadfallow again.

'I used to compare my father to you,' he said slowly. 'I used to wish he was as fine and cultured as you.'

Chadfallow seemed to grope for a reply. 'This cur makes it sound-'

'You were already aboard, after the battle with the Volpeks. That was why he didn't wait to talk to me, isn't it? Because he couldn't stand being near you.'