Paul Collins - Swords Of Quentaris

He could see shadowy figures firing what appeared to be water cannons at the blazing flames.

A sharp explosion drove hot air downwards to sweep over Rad like a fiery cloth. When it had passed, he looked up, and saw why the sky always appeared to be pitch black whenever the skyships flew over Quentaris. A huge secondary sail carried the ship. It was like the canvas sails he had seen on the ships that plied the Lonely Sea, only they were joined to form a huge oblong shape.

Now part of it was burning. The scurrying figures above were directing the water at it and a veritable waterfall was cascading from the craft. It gave another lurch and Rad almost lost his grip.

A loud whoosh erupted above him and Rad dared to look up. What were the pirates doing?

They seemed to be setting fire to their own craft! Several of the misshapen creatures were scurrying around a huge cylindrical container.

Flames roared from it and seemed to pierce the very innards of the oblong shape above the deck.

The craft rose suddenly. Panic-stricken, Rad

continued to descend the ladder. But no matter how fast he went, the ladder drew inexorably up. Above, he now saw that the fire had been contained to a small compartment in the canvas and as he watched, its dying flames were being extinguished.

Rad's stomach threatened to throw up everything it held. Reality hit him like a shovel.

He had climbed a skyship's ladder and entered its belly. He had actually flown in the air like the rift pirates! And now he was about to die. He clenched his eyes shut as though this very act would gently place him on the ground.

But he was being drawn steadily upward. That much he knew. Away from the ground to a greater height from which to drop.

Rad was too preoccupied to know it, but the flying ship itself was actually descending. Soon it was skimming across the Quentaran dock-lands, long curdling black smoke wafting like flotsam in its wake. Only now did Rad see the white tufts of spray as the bottom rung skimmed across the choppy river.

Guttural voices cheered from above. Rad bit

his lip with disappointment. The raiders had extinguished all the flames. Now the craft was gaining height and returning to the rift caves.

The mountain range loomed like a mythological beast in the middle distance.

Without conscious thought, Rad released his grip of the ascending ladder and plummeted head over heels. The tangy spray rose up to greet him as he took a deep breath a second before plunging into the dark and icy depths.

2. Gangi-the FenceTHE swim back to the dock wasn't as bad as he might have expected. But it was a wet and sorry Rad that climbed wearily up the muddy bank. Too frozen and exhausted to care, he rolled on to his back and noisily dragged in some fresh river air.

By the time he had stopped gagging on river water, he realised he had a far more pressing

worry. He had abandoned his night vigil. This in itself drew a penalty of fifty public lashes in front of the Hall of Justice. It wouldn't take the City Watch long to realise the skyship's flight path had taken it right over his rooftop post.

Then again, the bell had rung twice. Which, of course, fell well short of the prescribed thirty rings.

Rad groaned inwardly. For his troubles he now had a magical object that felt hard to the touch but buckled under pressure. Beneath its milky surface tiny lights flared and died. It was not hard to see that it was a map of some kind, but a map of where? Judging by the squiggly lines that occasionally lit up like lava flows, it could be a map to an important rift cave!

Rad held the map at arm's length. Why did the lights flare then dim? Perhaps the magic was weak. Had everything been for nothing and was this a piece of ill-magicked dung? He silently cursed himself for his foolishness. A treasure trove of pirated wares had been at his fingertips, yet he had chosen a worthless bauble!

Chastened, he soon dragged himself up and

climbed to the crest of the embankment. He knew exactly who to see regarding the worth of his skyship artifact. Once he'd established that, he would take it to the Thieves' Guild as a tribute.

Or he might be fed to the fish for wasting every-one's time ...

Rad kept to the rooftops. He knew them like the back of his hand; even so, the rooftop way was like a giant map for those who could read it.

Generations of roof crawlers had inscribed cryptic messages for the shortest cuts across Quentaris. The busy laneways below were a much slower alternative.

By now there might be a warrant out for his arrest for failing his night vigil duty. All he needed to do was impress the Thieves' Guild with his stealth and they would protect him from the law.

Squatting above Fences Lane, Rad waited till the traffic below had all but ceased and the fortified, slit-like windows darkened one by one.

No-one had entered the House of Gangi, for which Rad was pleased; yet the notorious fence's

rooms remained lit with a yellow glow.

Rad scuttled down the greystone wall and knocked on the scarred oaken door. After what seemed like eternity a bolt slid across and a tiny slit appeared.

'Waddya want? We're closed. Come back tomorrah.'

Rad impetuously stuck his finger in the peep-hole before it could be closed. 'Look at this! It comes from the skyship!' He waved the map like a flag.

After a pause, a larger bolt was slid across and the door opened a forearm's length. Rad squeezed through and the door quickly shut behind him. A gruff hand shoved him forward and into a darkened corridor. 'Turn left an' be quick 'bout it.'

Rad headed for the guttering light. Although he had witnessed many visitors to the fence's premises, he did not know what lay beyond the black doorway, nor had he seen Gangi. And he wouldn't gain much further insight, for the fence kept to the edge of the light and seemed a man of few words.

'You're not from the Guild,' Gangi said at last.

He tugged at a white-specked, scraggly beard and his bushy eyebrows twitched as he contemplated the boy.

'I could take this elsewhere,' Rad answered.

'Anyone would handle something from a skyship!'

The man laughed hoarsely. 'You wouldn't be the first to steal from a sky crawler, lad. An' watch your tongue. I could as well slit ye throat and take all what you got.'

'My friends know I'm here,' Rad lied.

'I doubt it,' Gangi said. 'Now giz a look 'ere.'

His hand seemed to materialise within the flame's light.

Reluctantly, Rad held out his hand. He watched the fence turn the map upside down and examine it from every angle. Gangi glanced up at Rad and his jawline tightened. 'Doesn't do much, does it? Pretty thing, lights an' all. A baby's trinket no less an' no more.' He threw it casually on the table — too casually, Rad's instinct told him. 'Fifty silver moons and think yeself lucky I don't hand you over to the Thieves' Guild.'

'It's from a skyship,' Rad said. 'That makes it

worth something more than a month's pay for vigil watching. I risked my life for it!'

The fence contemplated his words. 'You've got spunk,' he said. 'An' I like a boy with spunk.

Could be I have need of ye. Other matters, yes, for which a lad of your talents would do just nicely. Tell you what, fer now. Leave said artifact with me overnight. Come back tomorrah and I'll have it all sussed an' priced. Deal.'

Gangi's gnarled hand magically appeared again as though it were a done deal and Rad had no option but to accept the handshake. Fences were unusually honest — they had to be with criminals. Their lives depended on it.

An' leave by the back way. Can't have scab labour seen leaving me honest abode, ye understand'

3. Vindon on the MakeRAD spent the rest of the night and most of the day hidden in a pigeon loft. The birds were fed twice a day — more regularly than many street urchins — so Rad at least managed to get two meals.