Chasing the Lantern (36 page)

Farrel looked sullen, and did not reply.

"But, obviously, you know now that real life doesn't work like a penny paper. I imagine that you started to realize that the moment she shot you." He stopped, faced Farrel, and met his gaze. "Answer me."

"Yes," said the pirate, voice small.

"Since then, you've been beaten, stabbed, bruised, bit, bashed, and treated to the same drudgery that occurs on an ocean-going ship, just at a different altitude. And now, because your gorgeous captain is crazy, you're going to meet some improbable doom in some alien city, trapped on a jungle continent where you couldn't hope to survive."

Farrel nodded slowly.

Mordecai stepped closer and leaned in. "Well. It appears I've got some good news for you. You can't have everything you wanted. But you
can
have a little bit of it, and maybe save your life in the process. Look there."

Mordecai jerked his head back down near the helm. All the crew he'd spoken with were gathered near Konrad. They talked excitedly amongst themselves, working up their courage and nerve. It wouldn't be long before Natasha noticed.

"You aren't alone. This whole trip has been one mess after another. The crew have decided to call a Crewman's Vote. You know what that is?"

Farrel nodded, surprise clear on his marred face.

"Though we disagree, I am loyal to my captain. I only inform you of all this because you have a right to know. Someone needs to bring the Vote to the captain, and none of that lot have the sand for it." He snorted. "Cowards. Still, if you want a better lot, and a bit of that glory you imagined, now's the time for it. Things don't work like that in real life, s'true, but sometimes they get
close
, you follow? Sometimes opportunities arise to lift you up, but only if you've got the gumption for it."

Farrel was looking at the assembled crew. The mob was bustling now, and started forward in ones and twos. That seemed to be a sign, and soon the whole assemblage was moving up. It wasn't the whole crew, but a good chunk of it, twenty or so. Enough for the Vote to work.

Mordecai stepped back, giving the pirate next to him a significant look.

Farrel looked indecisive. Then he frowned fiercely. He threw down the rope he'd been coiling and stood up straight. As the first of the crew came close he turned and stalked up the deck with them at his back. The young man Mordecai saw back in Haventown marched up toward Natasha.

Mordecai smiled.
Perfect.

The crew passed him by. Mordecai moved around their edge, staying close to the gunwales. He moved up where he could easily see the bow, and what was about to happen there.

Natasha was alone at the bow railing. She peered down at the temple, not even noticing the approach of the crew. Once the assembled pirates came to a halt, she still didn't seem to notice.

Guye Farrel stood at their lead. He stepped forward dramatically. "Captain," he said. "Your attention is required."

Natasha straightened and turned around. "What now?" she asked, irritated. "What—?"

The captain of the
Dawnhawk
fell silent as she saw the assembled pirates. "What is this?" she asked.

"I speak for the crew," said Farrel. "We've had enough. Turn this ship back to Haventown, or we'll call a Crewman's Vote."

The pirate princess stared at him. "You're not serious." She shook her head at the assemblage. "Enough tomfoolery. I've decided that we're going to send down a shore party—"

An immediate cry rose up. "This is madness!" yelled someone at the back of the crowd. "We've already got the treasure, let's leave!"

"Aye!" shouted another. "We've barely enough coal to make it home as it is."

Konrad pushed to the front. "Captain," he said. "We are not meant to be in this city. There is something here, something powerful and hexed. We must go."

"Oh, quiet, all of you," said Natasha. "The Governor's Lantern is worth a fortune by itself, and it's somewhere in the city below. I mean to have my cake and eat it too." She smiled. "Let Fengel do better than
that.
"

Farrel stepped defiantly forward. "No. No more, pirate princess. You've had your fun, had your play at captain. But you're not old Euron Blackheart, and never will be. We're calling a Vote."

The mob quieted. Even Mordecai blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected the fool to go
that
far.

Natasha narrowed her eyes. In one smooth motion she dropped a hand to her cutlass, drew it, and struck. The steel of her blade sang out against the leather sheath before landing with a meaty thud. Farrel didn't even have time to scream. The greenhorn pirate fell to the deck, hands twitching up at the blade buried in his neck. Natasha hadn't decapitated him. Not quite.

The pirate captain put her boot on his chest and yanked her blade free. "To have a Vote," she hissed, "you've got to have someone else who can replace me. Now get back to your posts before I—"

The moment couldn't have been timed more perfectly. Farrel's murder shocked the crew. Not because they cared about him, or were surprised at his death; Mordecai had slain more than a few recalcitrant crewmen. But because Natasha was so obviously ignoring them all.

"I volunteer," Mordecai said, stepping into the small space at the front of the bow. He turned and spoke out to the crowd. "I'll get us back to home port safely, with no more of this foolishness." The assembled crew stared at him in surprise. Mordecai was Natasha's right-hand-man, her loyal dog.

"You treacherous snake," hissed Natasha. "You'd go this far?" She hefted her blade again.

Quick as a flash Mordecai had his own sword in hand. "See how far she's gone? We have to do this. Back me, and I'll portion out her share among the rest of you when you're back in port."

"I'll see you dead for this," Natasha snarled.

The pirate captain raised her blade and came at him with a hacking blow. Mordecai parried it and stepped aside. The crowd pressed back to give them room.

No need to drag this out
. He needed to remind the crew that he was confident and capable.
Short and brutal then.

Mordecai stepped forward and lashed out. Natasha parried the blow returned it. Mordecai caught the blade with his own and then whirled down and around, binding her blade and then disarming her in a smooth motion. Natasha's sword went sailing over the edge of the rails.

She stepped back, eyes wide. He held the tip of his sword to her throat. Natasha put her hands up, glaring daggers at him.

"There," he said to the crew at large. "You see how she is. Unfit to lead. I call for a Crewmen's Vote! All displeased by the captaincy of Natasha Blackheart vote aye."

A chorus of 'ayes' rang out. It was obvious to him that some didn't want to depose their captain. But they were carried along by the events, too caught up in the action.

"I believe you are deposed," he said to Natasha.

She glared at him. "I got my ship back from Fengel," she snarled. "I'll sure as sin get it back from
you
. I may have pushed them too far, but you'll only have them hoodwinked for so long—"

"And all those in favor of my taking the captaincy, even temporarily, say 'aye!'"

A number of the crew, no doubt motivated by the now-free share, called out in favor. Their voices spread as others took up the chant. Most voiced a little half-heartedly, but, seeing no better option, went with their crewmates. In moments, enough of the crew had affirmed the vote.

"That's that then," said Captain Mordecai Wright. "First order of business: seize her."

Two pirates came close and grabbed Natasha. She fought them, but they held her. "What shall be done with her, sir?" asked one.

Mordecai sheathed his blade. "My first order: bind her well, then tie her to a rope. If she wants to go after her husband so badly, she can do just that. For my second order, you've all earned a reprieve. Bring up drink from the holds; we'll share a toast, and then put this repugnant place behind us!"

The crew cheered and scurried off belowdecks. Others stood and watched while a long rope was tied to the bow with Natasha bound to one end of it. She spat and yelled and cursed them all, biting at those who came near her. Mordecai smiled in grim satisfaction as she was set over the gunwales and lowered down by three of the crew. He leaned over to watch with everyone else as she reached the top of the temple-manse where a mob of the lizard-creatures were waiting. Unfortunately, they did not kill her. Instead they cut her free and hauled her inside, still screaming epithets.

Mordecai had the rope cut before the lizard-creatures could climb up, then he stalked down to the middle of the deck where overeager crewmen were hoisting up caskets of ale and rum from the stores belowdecks. Mugs were brought out and passed around expectantly. Mordecai took one small keg in hand and set it atop another. Then he drew his sword and stoved in the bung with his pommel. The crew cheered as he held it up, pouring it for the first man to shove his mug beneath the flowing liquor.

"Let this be a celebration," he called out. "Let's mark this moment as the moment that we of the
Dawnhawk
became stronger, and more free. We of the Copper Isles are free men and women, who brook no tyranny. We—
pfuagh
. Goddess above...what is this?"

The liquor flowed down over and into mugs, spilling onto the deck. It had a horrible, caustic scent to it. Those with pewter or steel mugs jerked back, dropping them. The liquor inside was fizzing, eating at the bottoms. Mordecai tipped the cask back, kept from pouring it anymore.

"Corsair's Cure-all, sir," said Reaver Jane. She looked glum and tired. "S'terrible stuff. Maybe something else?"

Something fell at them from overhead the gas-bag overhead. It screamed at them as it fell, hellish red light shining down on the pirates. The men and women ducked and swore, dropping their mugs. Cure-all spilled out onto the deck, stinking horribly.

The scryn banked at the last second, whipping the stinger of its tail out to catch someone across the face. The pirate screamed and fell. It whirled around, a smallish, runty creature, and came at them again. The pirates scattered, and Mordecai saw the thing coming straight for him. He didn't have time to draw a weapon, instead he held up the cask, blocking the whip-tail of the creature as it struck for his head. The wood of the cask resounded with a thump, cracking slightly.

Mordecai threw it aside as the creature flew past. The cask rolled, dumping the liquid inside across the deck. He kicked it away to free up his footing, drew a pistol and took up a stance. He fired, smoke and thunder billowing out, but at the last second the creature jerked upward.

Others had recovered from the surprise. Shouts rang out and weapons were drawn. The scryn, perhaps sensing its danger, disappeared over the starboard gunwales and did not rise again.

Mordecai looked up at the gas-bag where the thing had come from. No more of the flying vermin could be seen, though up near the starboard ratline he did see a face, white-furred and simian, watching them.

Blast, damnation, and other diverse curses
. His triumphant morale-building speech had been ruined.
Enough tomfoolery
.
I am captain now.

"Enough of this," he shouted. "It was just one of those little monsters. Everyone back to your posts. We're putting this place behind us. Konrad! To the helm. Reaver Jane! Go tell the Mechanist about our change of heading, and make sure he's ready to help us make all speed. And could someone get up aloft and kill that damned ape?"

"Captain!" came a cry from the starboard gunwales. A frightened looking pirate was pointing frantically overboard.

What now?
he wondered. Anger rising, he stalked over to the man. "What is it? I've got more important things to do than—"

The city was gone. It was obscured by a black cloud of shifting, soaring creatures. Hundreds upon hundreds of scryn were rising up, bathing the ship in crimson light.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Lina crouched down lower behind a bush. The two Draykin stood on the other side, hissing and spitting at each other in their guttural tongue. Lina was close enough to touch one, if she wanted.

The sun hung just a little after noon. Its light peeked down past the towers to reflect off of the wide, paved streets. Up above the valley, the jungle air was hot and humid and Lina had had to work for each breath she took. Down here it was dry, almost baking. That was probably why the reptilian Draykin liked it so much.

She had descended into the valley by way of the thinly carved stair in the southern cliff. It had been almost two hundred feet, dizzyingly high above the ground. Back aboard the
Dawnhawk,
Lina had never had the chance to be up on the gas-bag frame. She wondered, after that climb, if she would ever do so, given the chance.

Once on the ground she'd found herself in the streets of the city, and far from alone. The Draykin seemed hostile, at least all of them so far, barring the mysterious Rastalak. And she wasn't even sure about him yet. So she had hidden herself and crept after the procession carrying her friends and captain.

That was easier said than done. The streets of the city were wide enough to allow five wagons to pass abreast. Between the streets sat wide green spaces where the great towers arose. Most of those spaces were filled with foliage, either gardens cultivated by the Draykin, or spots the jungle had reclaimed. These would be ideal for sneaking, but for one problem. Most of these lots were bordered by low stone walls scrawled with bas-reliefs. Sneaking parallel worked well enough, but every time she came to a side-street or junction, Lina was forced to scramble madly over a wall, dash out into the open, and then climb over another into the shrubbery.

Amazingly, it had worked fairly well so far. The denizens of the city were either following the procession, or pointing up at the sky between their buildings at the airship overhead. Lina had gotten a good quarter-mile before getting stuck in one place.