Stan Nicholls - Army of Shadows

The only time they could really work on the weapons was at night, belowdecks in their makeshift dormitory. In almost complete darkness, by touch.

Satisfied that lookouts were posted, Spurral and Kalgeck, sprawled on their mean sacking, were busy fashioning wooden hatchets.

"How can we fight with these?" Kalgeck whispered, holding up his crude effort.

"They only need to work once or twice. To get us some real weapons."

"Oh. Right. You know a lot about fighting, Spurral."

"I've done a lot of it. You?" She knew he hadn't.

"Not really."

"Then trust me."

"I overheard something Vant said today."

"What?"

"He said we'll be at our destination soon."

"How soon?"

"Didn't say. But it sounded like very soon."

"So the quicker we strike — "

"Wouldn't it be better to wait until we get wherever we're going? You know, and maybe make a break for it?"

"No. We don't know what we'll be up against when we dock. Here, we've got just the crew to deal with."

"Just?"

"They're flesh and blood. They bleed and die like anybody else."

"Including us."

"Listen, Kalgeck: characters like Salloss Vant dominate others in two ways. First, by force. Second, fear. They trade on their victims being afraid of what they might do. To overcome the Gatherers you have to overcome the fear."

"That's easily said."

"What's the worst they can do?"

"Kill us?"

"That depends on whether you think death's worse than enslavement and misery."

"And you don't."

"I don't want to die any more than you do. But I like the idea of this scum staying alive even less." She tried to make out his expression in the poor light. "You are still with me on this?"

He was a moment answering. "Yes."

"And the others?"

"Most of them, I think. But all of us are…"

"Afraid? There's no shame in it, Kalgeck. It's something we have to get over."

"Even you?" He sounded incredulous.

"Of course."

"You credit us with more courage than we deserve. We're not known for bravado."

"So-called courage isn't about doing something without fear. It's doing something despite fear. Show me somebody who doesn't feel dread in a fix like this and I'll show you a fool."

"Can we hope for help? From those who dropped from the sky with you?"

She had to smile, though he couldn't see it. "I know Jup and the others will be doing their best to find us. But we can't count on that. We have to suppose we're alone."

"What do you want us to do?"

"We need to seize an opportunity, and soon. Pass the word for everybody to be ready to act, and watch for my lead."

The sky was a breathtaking canvas of crystal-clear stars.

Night had not deterred or slowed the ship stalking the Wolverines' boats. It maintained the same distance and rate of knots, and had no trouble staying on course despite the orcs' vessels being completely unlit. The ship itself did bear lights, or at least gave off a soft illumination that couldn't be accounted for by lanterns. It progressed in an eerie glow, like a ghost ship.

On the first boat, Pepperdyne had managed to avoid contact with Standeven since they started out. Now he felt obliged to check with the man who, in spite of himself, he still thought of as his master.

Standeven remained in the seat he'd occupied since they began the journey, and hadn't exchanged more than a few words with anyone. It was a measure of how the others thought about him that, full as the boat was, he sat alone. He was staring at the ship trailing them when Pepperdyne perched beside him.

"Who do you think they are?" he asked in an undertone.

Standeven shrugged. "Who knows? But it's obvious what they're after."

"Is it?"

"Of course. What are the most valuable things on this boat?" He looked around furtively before answering his own question in an animated whisper. "The instrumentalities!"

"How would they know we've got them?"

"How did that group that attacked us in Acurial know?"

"You reckon it's them?"

"Perhaps. Or some other. It doesn't matter. What's important is that they understand the worth of the artefacts."

"What's your point?"

"We've let ourselves lose sight of what prizes they are."

"I thought we'd seen the sense in abandoning that idea."

"You might call it sense. I say anybody who turns their back on a fortune must be a fool."

"You can't still be thinking they could be taken. From an orc warband? That's insane."

"Given the power at stake, and the riches, it'd be worth the risk."

"Say we did get them. What then?"

"We'd use them to get out of this wretched world and — "

"How? We'd need Stryke's amulet too, and there's no way he'd let either that or the stars out of his sight."

"There's always a means, Pepperdyne."

"Like stealing them? The way the one Coilla had was taken back in Acurial?"

Standeven's face twisted. He raised his voice. "How often do I have to tell you — "

" Ssshhh! Keep it down. If the others get a hint of what you're thinking…" Heads had turned. Pepperdyne gave them a bland smile. When they lost interest he added, in an even lower tone, "You're forgetting something. The damn stars aren't working properly anyway. So what are you going to do? Keep trying in the hope of them taking us home? And if by some miracle we got there, what do you do about the debt you owe Kantor Hammrik?"

"There'd be no need to pay debts with the instrumentalities in our possession. Or to go home. We could find ourselves a pleasant world somewhere. Maybe one where the natives are so backward we could rule them. We'd be kings, Pepperdyne."

"Have you been drinking seawater? All this is crazy."

"Only to someone with the imagination of a worm."

"You're quite something, aren't you? It never entered your head that these orcs have become friends. Well, comrades at least. And you'd abandon them here."

"Maybe they're… friends to you, but we've been in nothing but trouble since you got us tied up with them. And what are they dragging us into now?"

"We're trying to help one of our own. It's called loyalty, if the word means anything to you."

"It means getting us killed."

"Stryke said he'd take us home. I believe him."

"Even if he kept his word, he'd still have the instrumentalities. I… we must have them."

"Let it go. It's wild talk."

Standeven didn't seem to be paying attention. He had a distracted look, and his head was half tilted, as though he was concentrating on something.

"What is it?" Pepperdyne asked.

"Can you hear anything?"

"Hear? Hear what?"

"I've been hearing a… melody. No, not that. It's faint but… it sounds like… voices, singing. There. Hear it?"

Pepperdyne listened. There was only the swish of oars cutting through water and the occasional mummer of other conversations. "No, I can't hear anything."

"You must be able to hear it."

"There's nothing. It's just the sea. It can play tricks."

He looked bewildered. "Is it? Perhaps you're right. I can't seem to… I don't hear it now."

"You've not been getting enough rest. None of us have. That probably accounts for it, and what you've been saying."

"My judgement's sound," Standeven replied indignantly. "I can see the logic of it even if you can't. I have to have the stars. They want me to."

"What? Get a grip, Standeven."

"You wouldn't have dared talk to me like that not long ago."

"That was then. Now's a different game. I don't know what's going on in that devious head of yours, but understand this: if you do anything stupid you're on your own."

"Obviously," he sneered.

"Look, there's no way I'm going to — "

He stopped when he saw Stryke rise and make his way to them.

"Everything all right?" the orc said.