Rob Scott - Lessek_s Key

And if his new crew members were unhappy with that arrangement, he would have them thrown overboard; that was quite sufficient risk for one journey. Millard looked forward to pocketing his silver and being done with this business for good.

As he headed the barge towards the long row of evenly spaced wooden piers Captain Millard discovered that the cutter was shadowing the River Prince into port.

‘Now why would he be coming in here after me?’ he asked the empty bridge. ‘I’ve run up my colours, is all, even a blind man can see I’m shipping winter vegetables. What’s wrong with winter vegetables?’

He barked orders and the small team of sailors scampered over mountains of wooden crates and boxes, untying tarps and loosening cargo lines. The girl, Bree, remained in the bow, a length of rope in one hand, until they were close enough for her to toss the line to the dock steward waiting near a stanchion.

The captain felt his hull bump against the wooden dock with a muted thud as the cutter closed in at flank speed. His hands trembled a little as he reached inside his tunic and withdrew his shipping papers. Something was about to happen, but he didn’t have a clue what, or why; instead, he’d behave as normal. If he went along as if everything was normal, producing his manifests, greeting the supply officer, chatting with the customs officials, the pending trouble might somehow pass them by.

When the cutter furled sheets and dropped anchor off the slip between docks three and four, Captain Millard knew his hopes were for naught: the River Prince was boxed in. He swallowed an order to cut the dock lines and break free, even though his barge could easily smash the cutter to splinters.

As a squad of soldiers approached at a quick march, the crew began to mill about nervously, looking at the captain for answers; Millard gestured for them to stand down, trying to convey reassurance: it’ll be all right. We’ll be back on the river soon.

‘Captain?’ A supply officer he recognised approached along the pier.

Millard searched for the man’s name, and replied cheerily, ‘Lieutenant Warren,’ waving his manifest again. ‘What’s happening, sir?’

The officer gave him a look that said he had no idea why the military had taken a sudden interest in the River Prince. ‘Captain, join me on the pier.’

‘What’s happening, Lieutenant?’ Millard repeated, moving warily towards the rail. ‘I’m hauling vegetables, and I’m happy to sell them right here.’

‘Join me up here, Captain, I need you to comply right away,’ the official said. ‘On orders, I am impounding the River Prince and its cargo until further notice. You and your crew will be placed under arrest.’

The soldiers lined up along the port rail, weapons drawn. Captain Millard looked back towards the river and saw two ranks of bowmen, arrows nocked, lining the cutter’s rail. There was no escape; he leaned forward and whispered, ‘You are not taking my boat, Warren.’

The lieutenant did the same, checking to be certain none of the soldiers along the pier heard him. ‘I’m sure it’s all right, sir. Please come with me. The major has been grumpy all this Moon. His foot has been bothering him again.’

Millard nodded imperceptibly, then shouted to his crew, ‘All hands, up here now. Follow me.’ He jumped ashore and started down the dock.

‘They need to relinquish their weapons, sir,’ Lieutenant Warren said, as firmly as he dared.

‘They don’t carry weapons, Lieutenant. They’re sailors.’

‘The knives, sir.’

Millard shrugged, irritated, but shouted down regardless, ‘Leave your knives, and anything else you might have on you.’

Everyone complied; no one said a word. Once everyone was ashore, Captain Millard gripped his manifests in one hand and followed the lieutenant towards the wharf and the major’s office. Halfway down the pier, he had to sidestep the mangiest dog he had ever seen. Its paws were caked with dried blood and it had lost an eye and part of an ear. One of its hind legs appeared to have been broken and mended crookedly. The animal watched him pass, peering at him until he crossed the wharf and entered the customs office.

When the River Prince made her final turn into the Welstar Palace encampment, Hoyt cursed. ‘I can’t believe he’s going to dock,’ he muttered. ‘Can’t he see them? What’s he thinking?’

‘He’s thinking that there is no way to run for a great hulking barge laden full of winter vegetables with little breeze and barely a current. We’d be run down, strafed with arrows, holed and boarded in time to save the cargo before we went down.’ Alen watched past Churn’s shoulder as they were followed towards the docks that reached out into the river like so many skeletal fingers.

‘We should run,’ Hoyt insisted.

‘Captain Millard makes this stop every time he comes down the river. If he deviates from normal practice, he might as well shout out loud that we’re up to something. His only choice is to tie up and go about his business.’ Alen stood and stretched; it was clumsy and awkward, but it did enable him to get a long look at the cutter in the distance. ‘We’ll follow Millard’s orders, but we will keep our wits about us; we did not come all the way down here to get arrested because some halfwit bargee has fennaroot stashed somewhere between the potatoes and the greenroot. Keep your heads down. Speak only when one of them asks you a direct question. We don’t need any additional attention drawn to us.’

Hannah said, ‘So you think they’re after Captain Millard?’

‘Who knows?’ Alen said. ‘Maybe this is standard procedure.’

‘Look at Millard,’ she said. ‘He’s too stiff; he hasn’t looked at them, not once. This isn’t standard; he’s sweating like a guilty pig.’

‘Either way, we can’t fight our way out of this, so until we know what’s happening, we play along. Agreed?’

The others nodded, Hoyt somewhat hesitantly.

As the barge got blocked in, Hoyt whispered to Hannah, ‘This is bad.’

When the squad formed along the port rail and drew their swords, Hannah replied, ‘I think it just got worse.’

‘You’re not joking.’ Hoyt forced a half smile.

‘Look,’ she said under her breath. ‘It looks like the captain knows that one.’

‘He’s a supply officer. I’m sure they know each other.’

‘Maybe he’ll tell Millard what’s going on.’

‘And maybe he’ll have us all hanged for treason.’

Hannah shivered as a sharp wind blew off the river. She stepped closer to Churn; maybe being near the Pragan giant would help her feel more at ease. She welcomed the feel of his massive hand on her shoulder as she whispered, ‘What do you think?’

‘Not good,’ Churn signed with one hand. ‘Stay near me.’

Hoyt dropped his knife when ordered, but retained the silver scalpel; he’d been able to hide the small blade before. He hoped the search was cursory. They followed the River Prince’s crew along the pier, all careful to avoid eye contact with any of the soldiers escorting them towards a rank of stone buildings. The wharf marked the riverside entrance to the village that supported the palace and the military encampment. They were all silent, until Hannah passed by the filthy dog padding back and forth along the pier excitedly, its hind leg oddly out of rhythm with the other three.

‘My dog,’ she blurted suddenly, but quickly fell silent again.

They were herded to the customs office, then left outside under guard while Captain Millard went in to find out what was going on. None of the crew spoke; Hoyt and Churn wandered off a few paces and then turned to face the others.

Hannah, following Churn’s directive to stay close, moved to join him, until he signed, ‘wait there’.