Stan Nicholls - Army of Shadows

It could have been Pepperdyne's imagination, but he thought there was a hint of suspicion in Stryke's voice. He considered telling him what Standeven had just said, but decided against it. "We're fine," he told him. "Just fine."

On the Gatherers' ship, dawn brought another round of drudgery. The dwarfs were hurried through their usual meal of stale bread and water. Then they were steered, blinking, to the deck, for chores to be handed out.

The slavers had divided the prisoners into arbitrary work gangs when they were first brought aboard, and seemed content to let them carry on. So Spurral and Kalgeck were again in the same group, making intrigues easier. They were assigned to the galley.

It was sizeable, longer than it was wide, and oppressively hot, even so early. A row of wood-burning kilns occupied one side of the room. All were in full flame, with a variety of pans, pots and kettles on their tops, seething and steaming. The two biggest stoves were being used to heat cauldrons of water, vessels large enough to accommodate a crouching dwarf.

The not-too-clean work surfaces were littered with cooking utensils and victuals: principally fish, along with some doubtful-looking meat, wheels of rock-hard cheese and loaves of the musty bread. There were a few bunches of limp, shrunken vegetables.

It was among these that Spurral noticed the protruding hilt of a knife. There were no other blades to be seen. Presumably they had been hidden from the captives, and this one overlooked. She nudged Kalgeck and indicated it with a subtle glance.

As the crewman watching them turned his attention to some bawling, Spurral whispered, "Can you sidetrack him?"

Kalgeck was taken aback, then resolved and nodded.

While the dwarfs were being gruffly assigned their tasks, he edged his way towards a shelf of stoneware. At its end stood a tall jug. Kalgeck shot an anxious look at the crewman's back. Then he reached up and swatted the jug off its shelf. It went down with a crash and shattered.

Silence fell, and the crewman spun round, looking furious. He strode to Kalgeck, red-faced.

"What the hell you playing at?"

"It was an accident. I — "

"Accident? You clumsy little swine!" He took a swipe at Kalgeck, landing a meaty smack. "I'll give you accident!" The blows continued to rain down on the dwarf's head and shoulders.

While everyone was distracted, Spurral quickly palmed the knife and slipped it up her sleeve. It had a short blade, but it was razor-sharp, and the coolness of the steel against her skin had a reassuring feel to it.

Kalgeck was still being clouted by the swearing crewman, and his arms were raised as he tried to protect himself. Spurral had a flash of regret at having involved him, and wondered how far the punishment would go. It crossed her mind to intervene and use the knife now. But no sooner had the thought occurred than the human, fury spent, ceased his pounding. He replaced it with even more colourful invective as he ordered Kalgeck to clear up the mess.

Down on hands and knees, gathering the pieces, Kalgeck caught Spurral's eye and gave her a wink.

Their group was set to washing dishes, carrying and fetching, bringing firewood from the hold to feed the kilns, and a variety of other duties. But nothing that involved anything sharp, such as preparing food. The galley crew took care of those tasks themselves, and Spurral feared they might notice a blade was missing. When there was no outcry she concluded they weren't methodical enough to realise.

The morning progressed in a grinding routine. One menial, back-breaking job after another was assigned, with the dwarfs spurred on with curses if they were lucky, kicks and punches if they weren't. At around noon all the captives were allowed out on deck to be fed. As usual, the fare dished up for them was even worse than the crew's own lacklustre chow. But the dwarfs, their appetites sharpened by the ceaseless labour, bolted it anyway.

Slumped on the sweltering deck, waiting for their short break to be rudely ended, some of them catnapped. Others exchanged whispers under disapproving gazes, or simply lounged, exhausted. For Spurral and Kalgeck, sitting with their backs to the rail, it was the first time they had had a chance to confer since Kalgeck's earlier hiding.

"You all right?" she asked from the corner of her mouth.

He nodded. Though his developing bruises seemed to tell a different story.

"Sorry I got you into trouble," she added.

"Don't be. It was worth it."

"Yeah. We got our first real weapon."

"And I pilfered these." He discreetly opened his hand. In his cupped palm were four or five objects that looked like pegs, made of wood with metal tips.

"What are they?"

He smiled. "Don't know much about seafaring, do you? They're kevels. You use them to secure ship's ropes. They'll make good shot for the slings."

She was impressed. "Smart thinking."

"When do we act, Spurral? Everybody's ready. Well, ready as they'll ever be. They're just waiting on your word."

"We have to pick the right — "

Kalgeck kicked the side of her leg and nodded up the deck.

Salloss Vant had appeared. It was the first time they'd seen him since the day before. He was accompanied by a couple of particularly rough-looking henchmen, and he didn't look happy. Moving in the peculiarly slinking, almost feline manner that had struck Spurral when she first saw him, the Gatherer captain positioned himself before them. As he did, other crewmen placed themselves around the captives.

" On your feet! " he barked.

The dwarfs reluctantly rose.

"Someone here has betrayed my trust," Vant said.

"What trust?" Spurral remarked under her breath.

"When I took you aboard I asked you to surrender to your fate," he went on. "It seems not all of you saw the wisdom in my advice." He regarded them with a baleful glare. "A knife has gone missing."

Spurral could have kicked herself for assuming she'd got away with it. "Looks like you'll get the word sooner than you thought," she whispered to Kalgeck.

His eyes widened. He began stealthily slipping a hand into his partly open shirt, seeking a weapon.

Spurral was aware that some of the dwarfs nearby were surreptitiously glancing her way.

"Is anyone going to own up to it now and take their punishment?" Vant demanded. Nobody spoke or moved. "So you're cowards as well as fools. Just what I expected from inbred scum. You'll all be flogged for your insolence. Those assigned to the galley this morning, stay on your feet! The rest of you, back on your arses!"

"Here we go," Spurral muttered.

She, Kalgeck and the five or six others in their group were left standing. They were more or less bunched, like a cluster of corn in a field otherwise flattened by a storm.

Vant scanned them. His malevolent eye fell upon Spurral and Kalgeck. "You two," he rumbled ominously. To his crew, he snapped, "Bring them here!"

The nearest pair of sailors headed for those still standing. They didn't bother to draw their weapons, taking it for granted there would be no resistance.

One of them made straight for Spurral, approaching with a merciless smirk on his grizzled face. She had her arms behind her back, out of his sight, and let the stolen knife slide down her sleeve and into her hand.

"Move, bitch," he grated.

Spurral swung round the blade, fast and hard, and buried it in his midriff. For good measure she thrust it into him twice more. The man looked as much bewildered as pained, staring down at the widening crimson patch with a bemused expression. As his legs buckled and he started to fold, she grabbed the hilt of his cutlass and dragged it from its scabbard. He was hitting the deck when she turned on the second man. This one appeared dumbfounded too. She took the benefit of his slow reaction and drove the blade into him, putting all her force behind it. He went down.