Jim Butcher - Captain's Fury

At Tavi's insistence-backed by more of Cyril's coin-Captain Demos hired a particularly swift tugboat for the journey upriver, once they had reached Parcia. Tavi had never been to the southern city and seaport at the delta of the Gaul, but there was no time to take in the sights. Parcia was a city of shining white stone, rising on several tiered levels almost like stair-steps, up to an impressive fortified citadel. Though not as large as Alera Imperia, the city of Parcia seemed airier, cleaner, more open.

The crew of the tugboat Demos hired reminded Tavi of Countess Amara, with their dark golden skin and their hair that came in several shades of deep gold, amber, and copper. The crew seemed more cheerful than the rivermen Tavi had known in the capital, and after running lines to the Slive , the smaller ship proceeded up the river, propelled by a crew of Parcian men with long poles, walking down either side of the tugboat, singing a working song with surprising facility as they did, pushing the vessels upriver.

In the stern of the smaller ship was a pair of middle-aged women. They settled down on seats slung outside the back of the tugboat, down close to the wa-terline. They sat dragging their feet in the water, chatting with one another, and doing handwork, mostly sewing. When Tavi asked, Demos explained that they were the wives of the tugboat's captain and first mate, and that they were watercrafters whose furies would convince the currents of the river to pretend that the tugboat and the Slive were not there.

The Gaul was busy with traffic, and would only become more so until the trading season slowed again at the end of autumn. Now that the sailors weren't needed to manage the sails, they lounged on deck for hours at a stretch, whenever Demos couldn't fill their time with make-work. As a result, Tavi found that he and Araris had an audience for their practice sessions, and to his intense discomfort they began regularly betting on the outcomes of the practices-not whether Tavi would beat Araris, which seemed a forgone conclusion. The wagers all centered on when and how Tavi would lose and how much of his blood would spill in the process.

The tugboat kept up its pace until several hours after dark, lighting its way with furylamps until the boatmen were too weary to continue, and they would start moving again just as the eastern sky began to lighten. The boat moved with surprising grace and speed up the river, often passing trading caravans on the road beside the water, on their way to Alera Imperia-and quietly, efficiently passed the other vessels being drawn upriver by tugs. As a result, it took them only six days to reach the capital.

"That's a great racket they've got going," Demos observed, as the tugboat maneuvered close to the docks and passed up the lines that would let the dock-men haul the Slive into position. "They made a quarter of what I did, just for the run up the river. No pirates, no leviathans, no worries about storms, fresh water, or food."

"Maybe you're in the wrong business," Ehren observed.

"You get to be my age, you start thinking about your retirement," Demos replied. "I like to plan ahead. I like my work, but it's going to be a little energetic for me, eventually."

Tavi stepped up next to the pair of them and nodded to Demos. "We're going to be here two days, three at the most, depending on how long it takes us to-"

Demos interrupted him with a scowl and a raised hand. "Don't tell me. The less I know, the harder it will be to incriminate myself."

Tavi frowned at him, but nodded. "Two days, three at most, and we'll be leaving in the middle of the night."

Demos grunted and beckoned the bosun. "Pay the men. Shore leave until noon tomorrow. Tell Sigurd he doesn't go until the stores are refreshed."

The weather-beaten sailor nodded, then scowled at Ehren, and said something quietly in Demos's ear. Demos listened, nodded, and frowned at Ehren.

Ehren rolled his eyes, opened his purse, and flipped two silver coins at the bosun. The man caught them, bit them both, and nodded before stumping off to his duties.

"Sailors and their swill," Ehren muttered.

The Slive bumped against the heavy rolls of burlap cushioning the edge of the dock, and the dock rats made the ship fast. Sailors lowered the gangplank, and sailors spilled off the ship, for all the world looking like students leaving a stuffy lecture hall.

Ehren gave Tavi a nod and slipped off the ship among the sailors, blending into the rowdy bunch without difficulty.

Demos eyed Tavi. "You aren't going, too?"

Tavi glanced up at the lowering sun. "In a bit."

"Ah," Demos said, nodding. "Glad your man paid my bosun back."

"Why wouldn't he?" Tavi asked.

"Some people have funny ideas about property," Demos said. "They think they can take it, or ruin it, and that they have the right to do so. You'll pay me for those chains."

"I did you a favor."

"See what I mean, about funny ideas?" Demos said. "That's my livelihood."

"No it isn't," Tavi said. "If you were primarily a slaver, your ship would smell a lot worse, and you'd have had more chains."

Demos shrugged. "Worked on a slaver before I got the Slive . The money's good, but I didn't like the smell. There's the occasional run, though. I carry all kinds of cargo."

"People," Tavi said, "are not cargo."

"The excisemen in all the southern ports seem to disagree with you," Demos said drily.

"Things change," Tavi said. "Slavery is going to be one of them."

Demos narrowed his eyes and stared at Tavi for a long moment. Then he said, "It hasn't changed yet. You'll pay me for those chains."

Tavi squinted at Demos for a moment. "Or what? You'll weigh anchor and leave us here?"

Demos's eyes went flat. "Excuse me?"

"That's what you mean, isn't it?" Tavi continued. "That if I don't pay you, you'll leave us high and dr-"

Tavi never so much as saw Demos draw his blade. It simply appeared at the end of his extended arm. What shocked him was that his own hand came up every bit as quickly, and his dagger met Demos's blade before it could touch Tavi's skin. Then the planks of the deck suddenly shuddered beneath Tavi's feet, flinging him six or eight inches into the air and robbing him of his balance. He came down windmilling his arms, and wound up on his rump. One of the planks of the deck abruptly folded, supple as a willow wand, and came down over Tavi's knife hand, pinning it painfully to the deck's wooden surface.

Demos stepped forward and drove his sword into the deck between Tavi's sprawled legs, not more than two inches from his groin. The captain growled and squatted down to be on eye level with the young man.

"I've taken your money," he said in a tone full of quiet rage. "That means I do the job. Period. Do you understand me?"

Tavi just stared at him for a moment in shock. Then he stammered, "The ship. The whole ship is a wood fury."

"And she's mine," Demos said. "And you will repay me for the property you damaged before this trip is over."

Behind the captain, Tavi saw Araris appear silently on bare feet, his sword in hand. He drifted closer, his face intent.

The door to the cabin snapped open with sudden, vicious force, striking Araris in the shoulder and sending him to the deck in a sprawl.

"And tell your swordmaster," Demos continued, eyes never wavering from Tavi's, "that if he draws steel on me again, he'd better be smart enough not to do it aboard this vessel."

Demos rose, drew the tip of his blade from the planks of the deck, and sheathed it. Turning to Araris, he said, "We both know you'd take me in a fair fight."

Araris rose slowly and sheathed his sword. He gave Demos a slight bow of the head. "When's the last time you were in a fair fight?"