Chasing the Lantern (6 page)

"I didn't say it wasn't!" The navigator turned away in a huff to yell at another crewman.

Mordecai set his mouth in a line. None of the other crew would ever dare to respond to him that way. But the navigator was erratic, half-mad. There was no point in following it further, for now. One last task needed tending to, and he turned away from the ship, making his way back down to Haventown from the Skydocks.

As first mate he had many responsibilities. Foremost was to be the captain's strong right hand, doling out punishment and keeping ship's discipline so that she could get on with the job of captaining. Second was to care for the ship itself, and Mordecai always made sure the vessel was as well-stocked and in good repair as any in the Perinese Royal Navy. Thirdly, he did what he could to improve the prospects of the ship and crew.

This last he attended discreetly. Haventown was a pirate town and den of smugglers. All the things that pirates brought in from their raids filtered back out through the factors and fences to the black markets of the Western Continent. In return, gold and other goods filled the coffers of Haventown, along with things of more intangible value. Rumors and classified information were traded throughout the town, just as valuable as any other commodity.

Mordecai had built up a fine network of informants over the years, carefully weeding away the untrustworthy and unreliable sources until only the best were left. Tonight they told him of a fat merchant convoy about to sail from the free city of Capricanto. He also heard that the Sheik and the Kingdom were preparing for another naval engagement, and it would be good to avoid the northeastern region around Triskelion. Lastly, he made his way to a smaller, quieter tavern near the Waterdocks and settled in to hear local gossip, brought to him by those who curried favor with Natasha. There was rarely anything useful, but a dutiful mate kept abreast of things.

"You Mordecai Wright?" said a deep voice.

Mordecai took the speaker in at a glance. But for the maze of scars across his face, the man was unexceptional, common as any other dockside brawler and only good for the muscle in his arms. "I am," he replied, calmly sipping from a glass of wine. "And you must have a
very
good reason for bothering me."

The stranger didn't meet his eyes. It was obvious he wasn't used to dealing with his betters, and didn't know quite how he should go about it. He settled on obsequiousness. "I'm Jack. Gorvey up at the Skydocks said you pay good for information. Well, got somethin' might interest you."

"Tell me what you know," replied Mordecai, voice level. "I'll decide what it's worth." Most of the evening's gossip had proven useless. He was bored and wanted to leave.

Jack looked like he might object, but quieted. He sat still for a moment, then appeared to come to a decision. "I work sometimes fer Mister Grey," he said. "Whenever 'e needs a bit of rough work done. Thomas, he comes down to grab me earlier this evenin', says 'e needs help tracking down a posh feller Mr. Grey wants found. The Fengel guy that's married ter yer Captain Blackheart." Jack glanced up at Mordecai from the corner of his eyes, hunting for a reaction.

Mordecai kept his face impassive. It wasn't hard. "Go on."

The thug frowned. "Anyway, we found him, up on the top terrace near the Bleeding Teeth with a few crew. They were all messed up. We hauled him off to Mr. Grey and I kept quiet outside while they chatted. Seems Grey wants Fengel to find something valuable. A lantern or summat."

Mordecai gestured at the barkeep, ordering a mug of grog for Jack. "Tell me everything you heard."

Encouraged, Jack told his tale. Mordecai learned that Captain Fengel was heavily in debt to the Sindicato, and about the wreck of the
H.M.S. Albatross
. He grilled Jack on the details repeatedly. Once he finished, he tossed the thug a gold sovereign and left the tavern. Grey wasn't one to be fooled with, and Jack would likely be dead before the end of the week for letting this slip. Still, that was no concern of his.

It seems this night has been profitable after all.
Truly, he could care less about Captain Fengel, though the man's first mate, Lucian Thorne, had been a personal irritation before. Hearing about Fengel's financial straits was amusing, but the only real value to be gained from the news was the fact that would please Natasha. And even that could be taken too far, as evidenced by her current besotted ranting. The location of a wrecked Perinese frigate, heavy with priceless treasure—now
that
was news worth hearing.

He climbed the terraces of Haventown. The hour was late. Overhead the moon shone brightly, nearly full. It cast strange, ghostly illumination over the lagoon, deepening shadows while brightening the boardwalks. The evening's mad revelry had quieted, as it did every night at this time. Life was carefree and unrestrained in Haventown; exertions burned themselves out quickly.

The topmost terrace was empty when he reached it on his way back to the Bleeding Teeth, the few drunks and pirates pointing out the skysails of the airships at Skydock. By the light of the moon the vessels glowed, their strange material seeming to burn with a cold fire.

A wrecked frigate would be quite a bit more worthwhile than a well-armed merchant convoy or walking into a war
. Normally Mordecai didn't enjoy salvage operations, but this was ripe for the picking. He did sums as he walked, calculating the duration of already-purchased supplies against distance to the nearby Yulan continent. Shrill laughter distracted him. Another couple, a pirate and his ugly whore, were pointing at the Skydocks and laughing. "I ain't never seen the like!" the woman chuckled as Mordecai passed.

"Oh, it happens, lovie. But on the
Dawnhawk
? Someone's got balls o' brass, that's for sure."

Mordecai stopped. He turned back to look at the couple, then followed the man's finger, pointing up at his ship. A single figure moved about the deck. At this distance he could not tell who it was, but the person's movements were furtive. The figure attached a hook and a satchel to a rope hanging off the deck and slid it down away from the ship to somewhere else, hidden by the rooftops of Haventown and the gas-bags of the other skyships.

Someone was looting the
Dawnhawk
.

Mordecai ran, drawing his saber as he went. Where was Konrad? Or the crewmen set to watch? Were they dead? The idea was preposterous. The navigator was a powerful aetherite, and Mordecai had personally trained the crewmen in swordplay. Who could lay them low? Certainly not a lone thief.

He ascended to the pier where the
Dawnhawk
was moored. It was empty, the cargo missing, stolen or loaded aboard. A chemical stink wafted down from the deck to stain the air.
The damned cargo. There was something wrong with it.
He ran up the gangplank with a growl, heedless of the caustic stink, then stopped abruptly at the scene before him.

The thief was alone. He wore a leather greatcoat and thick leather gloves, a belt at his waist dangling a sword and brace of pistols. A leather-and-brass miner's mask covered his features, allowing him to breathe safely. Several heavy glass bottles lay cracked and broken about the deck at his feet, the source of the thick chemical fog.  The missing crew lay all about, either dead or unconscious. Half of the barrels and crates were stacked neatly near the open cargo hatch, the rest presumably below. Two were open, and the lone figure was busily stuffing the contents into satchels to drop onto the guide-rope leading off the edge of the airship.

Mordecai rapped the gunwale with the pommel of his saber. The sound echoed out across the deck, startling the figure. "I don't know who you are," said Mordecai, "but by dawn all of Haventown will know who you were. And they will know that you died screaming."

The thief peered up at Mordecai from across the deck. He held a short pry bar. Turning, he jammed it into the top of the nearest crate and leaned on it. The crate cracked and the lid sprung up, half-opened. Then he turned back to Mordecai, reaching up to pull away his mask. It came away to reveal a smiling, sandy-haired man with bright blue eyes.

"When I go," said Lucian Thorne, "I plan to die laughing."

"Thorne," hissed Mordecai.

"Hello, Mordie. How are you?"

"This is beyond belief," said Mordecai. "You, all alone, are trying to steal from the
Dawnhawk
."

"You leap to conclusions. Always have."

"And yet," continued Mordecai. "You almost succeeded. Killed off my watch crew and the ship's aetherite. I'll have to replace them. That's slightly vexing."

Lucian kicked Konrad, the nearest of Natasha's Reavers at hand. He studied the aetherite with a frown. "Oh, not dead. Just unconscious. Should be waking up any minute now, if my apothecary knows his numbers."

Mordecai took a step forward, raising his blade. "That can't have been cheap. And I happen to know for a fact that your 'captain' is more impoverished than a poxied whore."

Lucian grimaced. "Yes. Had to pay out of my own pocket for this. I'm not exactly pleased about that, I'll admit." He brightened. "Still though, it let me pull one over on the ol' bitch, so I can't complain."

"You act as if you're going to get away." Mordecai smiled wickedly. He took another step, savoring the moment.
I was content to let you be, you little shit. Now I'll have your heart.
"I truly wonder. You've always been foolish. But stupid? Whatever you could have gotten for my ship's supplies wouldn't be nearly worth the risk. Look at you now. Fengel, he might have had a chance. He's good, I'll admit. But you? You're barely a competent swordsman."

Mordecai took up a guard position and approached. Lucian darted back to the far gunwale where the guide rope was tied to a cleat. He drew a pistol at his belt and leveled it at Mordecai's chest, cocking it with a thumb.

"Again, you leap to conclusions." Lucian smiled even wider, as if he were trying not to laugh. "I am not going to be selling off your hardtack and stale cheese. We appear to have need of that."

Mordecai smiled wryly. "Really. How did you plan to go after the
Albatross
without a ship?" Lucian started, surprised for the first time. "Oh yes," continued Mordecai. "I've heard about your little task for Grey."  

"That's not your concern," snapped Lucian. He squared his shoulders. "In any case, I've places to be. Time to be off."

"You still have to go through me."

"Mordie, I know full well how deadly you are with a blade. And I've got no intention of fighting you."

"No?"

"No."

Lucian fired. The pistol in his hand roared like thunder. Mordecai was only a dozen paces away. He felt a moment's internal, reflexive panic. Then the earring in his left ear warmed briefly and there was pressure over his chest, right above his heart. The pistol ball whistled past, deflected. Careful not to show, Mordecai breathed out in relief, then smiled up at Lucian.

The other man stared. "So it's true then. You did come by an aetherite's charm somehow. That's like cheating, really. I'll just have to try again harder next time." With that he bowed, turned, and vaulted over the edge of the ship. The guide rope went taut as he caught it in gloved hands, sliding down out of sight. Mordecai charged forward, caught off guard. He lashed out with his saber, adder-quick, but still missed. Lucian could move damned fast when he wanted to.

Mordecai caught his balance on the rail and glanced down the guide-line after Lucian. The other pirate slid down the rope, laughing wildly as he fell to another skyship. It lay moored several dozen feet below and three hundred away, at the far end of the Skydocks.

The
Copper Queen
.

Mordecai hacked at the rope furiously, but Lucian landed on the deck of the old air vessel, disappearing from view just before it parted and fell away. He cursed and pounded at the gunwale with his fist. Then his eyes widened. A flurry of activity was taking place on the
Queen
, pirates moving with purpose along the gunwales, guide-ropes, and the bow.

"You assume..." Mordecai breathed. Startlement and horror rose up in him.
You cheeky little shit. You really weren't going to fence anything. You mean to steal the Queen!

Konrad stirred at his feet. The navigator groaned and let loose a string of foreign curses. Mordecai turned and kicked the man savagely in the ribs.

"Up! Get up, Goddess damn you!" Others moved and he went among them, kicking and shouting and chivvying them awake. Slowly, far too slowly, the crew climbed to their feet. They groaned and wasted precious seconds tottering about in confusion.

"What going on?" asked Konrad. "What happen?"

Mordecai grabbed the man close. "That bastard Fengel is trying to steal Euron's ship!"

The navigator's eyes widened. "That's madness!"

"I know! Now get your arses down there!"

Lashed on by threats and invective, the crew rushed off the deck and down the Skydock. Mordecai sent one man off to rouse everyone else in the Bleeding Teeth. Hopefully, Natasha was still drunk.

Brash as always, Lucian's plan was still foolish. The
Queen
hadn't moved in a decade. Just to get it aloft would take a complete restoration of its light-air gas cells. And the ropes and chains that tethered it were old and hard.

But.

The ship was a symbol of Euron's rule. And as much as she hated the sight of the thing and the shadow it cast over her own efforts, Natasha cared about it just as much as her father did. If Fengel
did
get away successfully, the Blackheart family would have everyone involved strung up by their toes. And Worked charm or not, Mordecai didn't back his own chances against all of Euron's men, or Natasha pushed past her limits.

Retribution burned in his mind as Mordecai moved with the crew down the slope of the Skydocks to its base. He took the lead and led the brigands of the
Dawnhawk
up the gangplank of the
Copper Queen
. A brawny, shirtless fellow stood at its peak, barring their way. Mordecai cut the man down without a moment's hesitation, pushing past. Bystanders looked on, stunned by the group's charge. He flicked his blade out, slashing and driving them back as the crew followed at his heels.