Blackveil (24 page)
They were lumpy forms beneath the light of streetlamps, and Amberhill’s nostrils flared much like his stallion’s when he caught a disagreeable scent on the air. The stench of rotten fish, pickled livers, and years of unwashed grime. It was familiar. Very familiar.
The two reeled back and forth, arm in arm, as though on board a ship on a rolling sea. They sang, if it could be called such, their words slurred and their rough voices off-key. They were bound for the Cock and Hen and Amberhill wondered if even that establishment would welcome these two into its premises.
He did not have to see them up close to know he had not killed all of Captain Bonnet’s pirates that fall morning in a clearing of the Green Cloak Forest. The rumors told how these two tottered from tavern to tavern each night drinking, alledgedly, gallons of rum and ale, and how they attempted to go whoring, but how no woman would have them. Seldom did pirates find their way this far inland, and the particular vileness of the duo—not to mention their ragged clothing and bare feet—left Amberhill in little doubt of who they were.
He was drawn to them like an ant to honey. He had questions ...
He stepped from the shadows and strode into their path before they reached the inn’s door. They staggered to a halt, one still singing in wretched strains until his companion jabbed him in the ribs.
“Whaaa?” the singer asked. He was short and round. The dim light from the inn glanced off the cracked lenses of his specs.
“Someone in our way,” the other replied. This one was tall and skinny and carried, Amberhill noted, a cutlass on his hip.
“What does he want?” the singer asked.
“Dunno.”
“I want to know,” Amberhill said quietly, “if you recognize this.” He held his hand before him so they could see the dragon ring. The ruby caught in a glimmer of light and turned to red fire on his finger. The two pirates stilled.
“That’s Cap’n Bonnet’s,” tall and skinny said.
“That means ...” short and round began. Both gazed at Amberhill. “The cap’n. Where is he? We got separated in them woods.”
“Dead,” Amberhill said. “Very dead. As is the crew with him.”
The two pirates glanced at one another with wide eyes. Then, “You kilt them!” tall and skinny cried.
“I had little choice at the time. It was me or—”
But the pirate did not want to hear an explanation. He whipped out his cutlass.
“No,” Amberhill said, “I have questions!”
The other pirate caught at his companion’s arm. “Don’t!”
“Git off, Yap! Lemme kill ’im!” He shook free of the other’s grasp and swung his cutlass at Amberhill.
Amberhill danced away. This was ridiculous. The pirate was so drunk he could hardly walk much less engage in combat. His companion, Yap, moved out of range of the flailing cutlass and pressed his back against the wall of the inn.
“I just want to—” Amberhill began, but he needed to duck as the cutlass scythed for his neck. The momentum made the pirate spin all the way around before coming to a staggering halt. Amberhill thought he could hear the rum sloshing in the pirate’s gut.
“I’ll flay yer skin and wear it as a shirt,” the pirate declared. “I’ll ...” He stumbled and wove about the street. “I’ll ...” He swayed one way, then the other, as if unable to control his feet. He swung the cutlass like a blind man and it flew from his grip through the air and clattered onto the street somewhere in the dark.
“Oops,” the pirate said.
He started to run after it, but his toes caught on a loose cobblestone and he tripped and fell hard, his head striking a hitching post with a crack and snap as he went down. After he hit the street, he did not move.
“Keeler!” Yap cried, and he raced to his companion’s side.
Amberhill joined him and immediately saw that the pirate had not only gashed his head open, but had broken his neck as well. Already the reek of decay drifted up from the pirate’s body and Amberhill grimaced. Like the other pirates he had slain, Keeler’s corpse decomposed rapidly before him, flesh sinking into ribs, his face turning into a grinning skull.
Amberhill drew his parrying knife and cut away the pirate’s shirt.
“What are ya doing?” Yap demanded, balling his fists.
“Checking for treasure,” Amberhill replied.
Yap backed away. Evidently he knew to what treasure Amberhill referred.
Amberhill turned back to the corpse, feeling like a grave robber preparing to practice his skills. That was another rumor he heard in the night, of menders paying fees to grave robbers to bring fresh corpses to them so they might cut open the bodies and learn what they could of their inner workings. But this was no fresh corpse. He pulled out a handkerchief, covered his nose and mouth, cut into the parchmentlike skin of the pirate, and peeled it away from the bones.
Amid the gore within were glints of gold, and globules he at first took to be the eggs of some creature. Some parasite? He nudged one with the tip of his knife, then dug it out. He held it pinched between thumb and index finger to better see it in the lamplight.
Yap had overcome his fear or revulsion or whatever to peer at what Amberhill had found. Amberhill wondered briefly why the fellow did not simply run off. Curiosity? It appeared he did not perceive Amberhill as a threat, and why should he when Amberhill hadn’t even drawn his rapier to defend himself against the drunken Keeler? Nor did he detect any great sense of loyalty in Yap for his dead friend.
Something rumbled in the pirate’s chest. “Keeler was fond of oysters,” he said.
Amberhill smiled. The globule was a pearl. There were many inside Keeler. He dropped the one into the cavity he’d created, stood, and swept off his cloak. He laid it flat on the street beside the corpse. “Help me, will you?” he asked Yap.
When the pirate saw what he was about, he helped transfer Keeler’s remains onto the cloak—not that Keeler had much bulk left to him anymore. Amberhill folded the cloak to help conceal the corpse, then took up the head end. Yap, catching on, took the feet.
“Where we taking him?” Yap inquired.
“Where all bones must go.”
Amberhill felt even more like a grave robber as he and Yap stole through Sacor City’s deepest shadows with their burden between them. They might find concealment in the dark, but, unfortunately, little could be done about the stench. Fortunately, most citizens were abed at this hour. Just so long as they didn’t run into a constable ...
Yap kept up as best he could, his breathing harsh and his bare feet slapping the cobbles of the street behind Amberhill. His steps were sometimes clumsy, but he asked no questions, did not try to murder Amberhill, did not run off.
Fortunately, Amberhill’s destination was not terribly far. It was a small, unkempt cemetery off Egg Street—one of many tiny cemeteries located throughout the city. Because space was limited, it was common practice in Sacor City to bury the dead for a time, then remove their bones to an ossuary. Some wealthy citizens had permanent graves or mausoleums, but ordinary citizens usually accepted the community ossuary as their final resting place. Some were so packed with bones that they had to be closed, and the remains therein moved elsewhere.
The gate to the cemetery off Egg Street was broken, hanging from one hinge only. Amberhill and Yap slipped in with their burden. Among the weeds were wooden markers protruding at irregular angles. They followed a worn path toward the back corner of the cemetery where the stone vault that served as the ossuary stood. It did not take much to break the lock. The door groaned inward, and the building exhaled a fetid, musty breath. It was actually preferable to the stench Amberhill had been carrying in his cloak.
“What,” he asked Yap, “do you suppose is the opposite of a grave robber?”
Yap scratched his head. “A grave returner?”
Amberhill did not enter the vault, but stood in the doorway and pitched Keeler’s bones inside, crumbs of flesh falling from them. As undignified as his treatment of the bones might be, it was probably better than Keeler deserved. Yap certainly made no protest.
When he finished, he brushed his hands off, then closed the door to the vault. He gathered up his cloak, carefully folding into it whatever tiny bits remained of Keeler and the treasure that had been contained in the pirate’s corpse.
“What now?” Yap asked.
The moon was setting and daybreak would soon be upon them. It was time to return home.
“I have questions,” Amberhill said. “Will you come with me someplace where we can talk? Voluntarily?”
A look of astonishment overtook Yap’s face. “Voluntarily ...” he murmured, as though the concept had never occurred to him. “Aye. I think I should like to.”
By the time they reached the noble quarter and Amberhill’s house, birds were awake and chattering in the trees. Dawn was shifting the world from night to morning dusk.
Again, Yap had followed without asking questions and seemed to absorb his surroundings with interest. Amberhill led him to the back of the house and stashed his bundled cloak beneath a shrub bordering the foundation. The groundskeeper was not due today, and it was well concealed, so it ought to be safe for the time being.
He opened a window he kept well greased for his stealthy comings and goings and jumped up onto the sill and swung his legs inside.
“So,” Yap said from outside, “are we robbing the house, or returning something?”
Amberhill smiled, pleased the pirate had a sense of humor. “What was here is mostly gone, and all of it mine.” He could’ve entered through the front door, but old habits died hard. He preferred no one espied his late night entrances and exits, regardless. He supposed he could use the back entrance, but where was the fun in that?
He assisted Yap through the window, pulling on rough, cracked hands. The rotund pirate scrabbled frantically over the windowsill and pretty much rolled into the house, landing on the floor with a hefty thump. Vacant as the room was of many of its original furnishings and objects, the noise seemed excruciatingly loud to Amberhill’s ears and he hoped it did not awaken any of his servants.
Yap clambered to his feet and glanced warily around in the dim light of the library. The shelves were mostly empty. There were a few chests and packing crates on the floor.
“Have a seat,” Amberhill said, indicating one of the few remaining chairs.
Yap did so tentatively at first, but then with an expression of delight, he allowed himself to sink into the plush upholstery, exhaling with contentment. Amberhill hoped the stink of pirate would not adhere to the fabric.
He remained standing with arms folded and regarded his guest, but could discern nothing beyond his rags, stubbled cheeks, and straggly gray hair.
“You must be very rich, sir,” Yap said.
“More so than many,” Amberhill replied, “with the help of pirate treasure.” If his words had any effect on Yap, he could not see it in the pale dawn light. “What can you tell me about the dragon ring?”
“Is that what ya brought me here for, sir?”
“I said I had questions.”
“What if I don’t have answers.”
“I shall send you on your way.”
Yap gasped. “Ya won’t kill me then? Not even for ... not even for ...” He patted his chest to indicate the treasure within.
“Only if you give me cause shall I kill you.”
Silence fell as Yap considered his words. “That is fair spoken. And if my answers please ya? I have no ship no more. Old Yap’s nowhere to go.”
Amberhill was not surprised Yap angled for some small reward. He was, after all, first and foremost a pirate.
“I am sure I can make it worth your while.
If
your information is good.”
If
your information is good.”
Yap took another moment to consider his words, then said, “Fair. I will tell ya what I know of the ring. It starts with the sea kings.”
YAP’S STORY
T
he light in the library turned gray with the rising sun. Yap looked like a figure of pewter as he sat unmoving in the armchair. Would he vanish in a puff of light when full morning broke? The pirates were not entirely mundane, and whether it was the influence of some outside force that made them so, or an innate quality of the pirates themselves, Amberhill did not know. He had only to consider the treasure he’d collected from their quickly rotting carcasses as proof there was something arcane at work. He recalled Captain Bonnet mentioning a curse.
he light in the library turned gray with the rising sun. Yap looked like a figure of pewter as he sat unmoving in the armchair. Would he vanish in a puff of light when full morning broke? The pirates were not entirely mundane, and whether it was the influence of some outside force that made them so, or an innate quality of the pirates themselves, Amberhill did not know. He had only to consider the treasure he’d collected from their quickly rotting carcasses as proof there was something arcane at work. He recalled Captain Bonnet mentioning a curse.
Other books
Accelerando by Charles Stross
Don't Lie to Me by Donald E Westlake
Aftermath by Lewis, Tom
A Week at the Beach by Jewel, Virginia
9:41 by Iannuzzi, John Nicholas;
Masquerade by Arabella Quinn
Every Whispered Word by Karyn Monk
The Edible Woman by Margaret Atwood
Prophet by Frank Peretti
Due Diligence: A Thriller by Jonathan Rush