Jack McDevitt - Eternity Road

The Captain’s Quarters, near the waterfront, looked somewhat rundown, but it was convenient. It was also busy and loud. In

the dining room, a female singer was having trouble being heard above the general racket. The tables were too close together, and the waiters, carrying trays loaded with fried chicken and steaming carrots, had to fight their way through. A couple of big screened windows admitted cool air.

They ordered up, and beer appeared within moments. Flojian proposed a toast to the Columbine. “We’ve been riding the future,” he said.

Quait looked good. He had broken out the white shirt and blue neckerchief he saved for special events. “Almost there,” he said.

Flojian threw a skeptical glance his way. “That might be optimistic.”

“Why? All we have to do is find the boat that Karik hired. Then we hire them, and we ride the rest of the way.”

“How’s the money holding out?” Chaka whispered.

Flojian nodded. “Okay.”

“I wonder if you could spare a couple of mingos.”

Flojian reached into a pocket and passed her the coins unobtrusively.

They’d selected the inn because it obviously catered to the men and women who ran the river fleet. Chaka pocketed the silver, surveyed the room, found what she wanted, and got up. •I’ll be back,” she said.

She joined a group of mariners of both sexes at the bar and ordered a round of drinks for everybody. “We just came in on the Columbine,” she declared. “You people do a hell of a job.”

“Thanks,” said a young male. He had brown hair, brown eyes, and a good face, if you didn’t count a lot of missing teeth. “But we don’t crew the Columbine.”

“I know,” she laughed. “But they’re not here, and you are.”

Within a few minutes she’d joined them in a song, and got the first of several disapproving looks from Quait. “What’s your boat?” she asked the young man with the missing teeth.

“The Reliable.”

“Does the Reliable trade on the river? Or the canal? Or both?”

A female with dyed blue hair responded with mock indignity. “The river,” she said. “The canal is strictly for the water rats. Isn’t that right, Corv?”

The male shook his head, suggesting that he’d heard the joke many times before, and Chaka concluded he’d been on the canal before joining the Reliable. But he took the comment in good grace, and even seemed to enjoy the attention. “The canal is where the real sailors are,’ he said.

“Right,” said one of the others and they all laughed.

“Has anybody ever been to sea?” Chaka asked casually.

They looked at one another.

“Yeah,” said a husky, older man in back. “I’ve been out past the Gate.”

Chaka raised her glass to him. “What’s it like on open water?’

He grinned. “Like nothing else you’ll ever do,” he said.

“Where’d you go?” asked Chaka.

“Yeah,” said one of the others. “Where’d you go. Keel?”

Keel had a thick black beard and arms like tree branches. He shrugged. “About a hundred miles downcoast.”

“Tell us about it,” said the woman, laughing, obviously familiar with the story.

“Back off. Blue,” he said. “The lady asked a question. Is it all right with you if I answer?” He turned to Chaka. “It’s peaceful out there. Like the whole world stands still.”

“How many times?’

“Twice,” he said. “The second time we were out for a couple of days.”

“Was that on the Reliable?”

“Yes,” said Keel, “although it had a different captain then.”

“Are you from the Inland Sea?” Gory asked her. “I’ve never heard the accent before.”

Chaka delivered her most ravishing smile. “That general direction,” she said, nodding toward the back of the room. She reached into a pocket and extracted her brother’s Haven sketch. “Reason I asked,” she said, holding it up so all could see, “I was wondering if this place is familiar to anybody? Anyone ever been there?”

“What place?” growled a flat-nosed sailor who had already swilled down his drink. ‘That’s nothing but rock and water.”

Keel looked at it for a long minute and shook his head. The others shrugged.

Chaka ordered a second round. “My brother came this way about ten years ago,” she said. “He was one of several people, and they leased a ship to take them to sea.”

“Where?” asked Blue.

Chaka looked at the sketch. “Here,” she said, “wherever that is.”

“Every once in a while,” said Keel, “some damned fool wants to go out. Usually they’re looking for somebody to trade with. But there’s no one out there along the shores except damn Tuks. If people want to go to sea, they ought to build a strong enough boat. You say this was ten years ago. We’ve had several boats during that period put to sea on one damn fool job or another. They don’t always come back.”

“These people were looking for Haven,” Chaka said. “They were led by an older man whose name was Karik Endine. Gray hair. Medium size. Sort of ordinary-looking.”

“That should make it easy,” laughed Keel. “But as it happens, yes, I know about Endine. I suspect everybody around here knows the story.”

“What story?”

“Actually a lot of stories, most of them conflicting. Depends on who you get it from, I guess. They were treasure-hunting, as I understand it. Cut a deal with one of the captains. Man named Dolbur. He took them downriver and north up the coast. But they ran into something they weren’t expecting.”

“What?”

“Something. I don’t think anybody’s ever been sure what. Ghost. Water demon. Something. Again, it depends on who you talk to. They lost a lot of people. None of the ship’s crew. But everybody who was with Endine. There was only one of them came back.”

“That was Endine himself,” contributed one of the others.

Keel gazed a long time at Chaka.

“Where can I find Dolbur?”

Keel’s teeth showed through the beard. “Finding him’s easy enough, but talking to him would be tricky. He’s dead. I’m trying to think who else was on that boat.”

“Knobby,” said the woman.

Keel nodded. ‘Yeah. That’s right. Knobby was part of that crew.”

“Who’s Knobby?”

“First mate. You want to talk to him?”

“Yes.”

“Be here tomorrow.”

Knobby’s real name was Mandel Aikner. While Chaka was too polite to ask the origin of the nickname, she didn’t need much imagination to guess that it derived from a bald skull that looked as if it had been rapped several times with a club. Knobby’s features were prominent: a large, bulbous nose pushed to one side in a long-ago fight; big ears; narrow, suspicious eyes; and a chin like the flat side of a shovel. A mat of wiry gray hair pushed out of the top of his drawstring shirt.

“I don’t know what I can tell you that you don’t probably already know, Chaka,” he said, while they waited for their steaks. (Chaka was alone with him, on the theory that he would speak more freely to a woman.)

“Assume I don’t know much of anything. Knobby. Karik Endine and his people arrived in Brockett and wanted to charter a ship. Why don’t you take it from there?”

Knobby picked up the carafe, studied the dark wine, refilled his cup, and refilled hers. “Before we get into any of this,’ he said, “I want you to understand, I won’t go back up there. Okay? I’ll tell you what I know, but that’s all.”

“Okay,” she said. She described her brother and asked whether Knobby had seen him.

“Yes,” he said. “I knew Arm.”

Her heart raced briefly.

“He was a good-looking boy. Didn’t talk much. I knew them all. Shay. Tori. Mira. Random. Axel. Even after all these years, I remember them. And Endine.” He drummed on the table with his fingertips. “It’s hard to forget.”