Kal Moonheart Trilogy: Dragon Killer, Roll the Bones & Sirensbane (46 page)

‘You’re right,’ Lula said. ‘The crew are all out over the city right now making drops. I just delivered a package personally to one of your highest-ranking senators. But that’s not why I’m
here
. We’ve been friends for a few years now, Kal, haven’t we? Always helping each other out?’

Kal nodded. The Island girl sitting opposite her, all leather, long hair and coffee-coloured skin, was twenty-six—Kal’s age—and, thanks to her skills with ropes, boats and cutlasses, had helped Kal out of many scrapes in the past. They made a good team, but the balance of favour probably lay with Lula … and Kal guessed that she was about to be called to account.

‘So you need my help with something?’

‘Yes,’ Lula admitted. ‘But you’re not going to like it.’

It was Kal’s turn to refill their glasses. ‘I’m not going shark-hunting with you again,’ she said, holding up her forearm to show off a scar. ‘And diving to that sunken galleon was more trouble than it was worth in the end. Three pieces of eight didn’t stretch all that far—’

‘It’s vudu, Kal.’

Kal felt a chill crawl up her spine, as if an insect with a hundred legs had found its way inside her dressing gown.
Vudu!
Dark, ancient magic … the magic of the gods …

‘I can’t help you with magic, Lula,’ Kal told her friend. ‘Show me something I can see and touch, and I’ll fight it to the death for you, but vudu … count me out. I can point you to some philosophers and theologians at the university who can—’

‘No, it’s
you
and only you who can help,’ Lula said. ‘I need someone smart
and
brave to find out why my people have been
cursed
!’

As if the night could get any colder! ‘Cursed?’ Kal repeated incredulously.

‘Yes,’ Lula said in a low voice. ‘We have either displeased our god, or shown ourselves to be unworthy of her. The people of the Auspice Islands have been struck with a terrible curse that turns their flesh to ash and their brains to salt. Almost everyone I know—my friends, my family, half my crew—has succumbed to it … has become a
zombie
.’

Kal was shaking her head. The Islanders were a superstitious people, still worshipping gods that the people of Amaranthium had given up as dead centuries ago. ‘I can’t believe it,’ Kal said. ‘I can’t believe in curses. I refuse to believe in zombies.’

‘You will, Kal,’ Lula said. ‘I’m only half Islander—as you know, my mother was a merchant from this city—but the curse has begun to take hold of me, too. I don’t know how much longer I’ve got …’

And to underline her tale, Lula raised her right hand in front of Kal’s face. In the centre
of her brown palm was a inch-wide blemish that stained her smooth young skin: a perfectly round, dry and cracked white spot.

I.iii

Mooncusser

Kal pulled her sea chest down from the top of her wardrobe. The old knocked-about teak box was well-travelled—Kal had been to the Auspice Islands before, but never to Port Black itself. That time, Lula had advised they steer clear of the town since two pirate lords were at war on the streets.
Would that have been more or less dangerous than a town besieged by zombies?
Kal wondered.

She lined the inside of the box with a couple of shirts. But she could pick up clothes anywhere, so she packed the rest of the space with weapons and books. She had a collection of blades of various sizes—made from a razor-sharp stainless metal crafted specially for her by her friend Nim Phyn, a doctor at Amaranthium’s university. The books were Kal’s favourite kind: outrageous adventures that featured warriors, wizards and a multitude of monsters. Concealed among the pages though, were more important documents: letters of introduction from her friends Ben Godsword (a consul of Amaranthium, no less) and Zeb Zing (owner of the world-famous gambling den, the Snake Pit). With friends like those, Kal could be assured of a line of credit from both official and underground channels almost anywhere in the world.

Kal paused before closing the lid.
What weapon would be effective against zombies?
She had a sudden thought, and went over to her rack of kitchen implements. Her meat cleaver would be a good choice for lopping off limbs, or for smashing skulls with the blunt back. She smiled; Nim had crafted this for her, too.

Before she left her small apartment, Kal took a scrap of paper and a pencil and wrote out a note for Ben:
Something came up. Back whenever! KM xxx
. The truth was though, that Ben probably wouldn’t miss her: since he took on the role of consul at the start of the year, he had barely needed her help, and spent most of his time in a huddle talking politics with his co-consul, Ganzief Greatbear.

Well
, Kal thought,
after running around after you for so long, I deserve a holiday
!

She pinned the note to the table with a dagger and left, locking the door and kicking the key back underneath.

***

By the time Kal got her chest down the four flights of narrow stairs, Lula had brought a pony and trap around to the front of the building. Kal’s friend had a wide smile; her mood had lifted considerably the moment Kal had agreed to come away with her.

It was four in the morning, but there was already activity in Satos Square as market traders set up their stalls ready for the dawn. Kal jumped aboard the trap, and Lula shook a stick above the pony’s head to get it moving. From the end of the stick, a carrot on a string dangled.

Taking up most of the room in the trap was a six-foot-long bundle that hung over both the left and right side. ‘What’s this?’ Kal asked. ‘What are you smuggling this time, Lula?’

Lula snorted. ‘We don’t call it
smuggling
. We call it … enabling the free market! Challenging unfair trade sanctions and price-fixing.’

Kal laughed. ‘You know me, Lula. I don’t judge. I don’t romanticise things either, though. I doubt you’d be doing this if there wasn’t a nice profit involved. Is it a body? Wait … is it a zombie?!’

Now it was Lula’s turn to laugh: a loud, hearty chuckle that made people turn and notice her. ‘No, it’s not a zombie. Take a look.’

As the pony clopped along the Kingsway, Kal peeled back the tarred cloth and discovered that Lula’s cargo was just a bolt of bright red material. ‘Is this cotton?’

‘Calico,’ Lula answered over her shoulder.

‘Well, that’s not very exciting,’ Kal said. ‘Didn’t you used to bring in tea, coffee and liquor?’

‘Now who’s being romantic?’ Lula jibed. ‘Calico is cheap to buy, and because imports are banned completely—something to do with protecting the Republic’s wool trade, I think—it sells for a nice profit. The best thing about smuggling calico, though, is that you’re not risking the noose if you get caught: just a thousand crown fine and three months in the Cut. Even so, the man I was taking this to tonight got cold feet and refused to take delivery. His loss, though—we always insist on payment up front.’

Kal smiled to herself. Lula was a smart operator: a girl after Kal’s own heart. Kal herself made most of her income from gambling, but she always played a straightforward, safe system that was designed to win slowly but surely. Nobody ever got rich quick, in any walk of life. Well, nobody who had to build their life up out of nothing, at least.

They passed through the East Gate. The two guards on duty didn’t even glance at the trap, which Kal thought odd, until Lula looked back and gave her a wink while patting her pockets. So she had bribed them; the two young, bored guards would probably take the price of a pint of beer to look the other away even if someone was to lead a dragon into the city.

Lula guided the pony and trap across the Field of Bones, its hooves crunching through the hoar frost. It was bitterly cold, but it hadn’t snowed yet. This far south, snow was an event; back in the Starfinger Mountains snow was just another word for winter. Kal huddled up in her woollens; she had piled on several layers—old clothes that she hoped to throw overboard one-at-a-time as they sailed towards the sun.

She wasn’t concerned that they hadn’t headed straight down to the city’s harbour. She imagined Lula’s ship was hidden in some smugglers’ cove somewhere on the rocky coast. The old excitement was stirring, and the thought of a month at sea before they reached Port Black was a sweet agony. Perhaps knowing that they would have plenty of time to talk on the voyage, Lula hadn’t troubled Kal with any more horror stories about the zombie curse. Instead, she happily chatted away about her other recent exploits, telling an outrageous tale of how she rescued forty slaves from a sultan in Nubara.

‘The sultan agreed to give them to me as my own personal slaves … in return for his hand in marriage.’

Kal could only shake her head in wonder at the situations that Lula got herself into. ‘So what did you do?’

‘I married the cretin, of course! The marriage lasted six hours: from the ceremony, all through the quite excellent feast, right up until the moment when I slit my new husband’s throat in our bed chamber. Then I just walked out of the palace with
my
slaves. The sultan’s eunuch guards were too well disciplined to do anything but stand there and let me go!’

Lula laughed to herself. ‘Well, that was enough excitement to last me for years, so I decided to keep my head down for a while by joining this gang of respectable smugglers.’

Kal smiled.
Respectable!
Travelling with Lula certainly wasn’t going to be boring. She was easy company, even pretending to understand and laugh along with some of Kal’s clumsily-told tales of bad beats and lucky draw-outs at the card tables.

And while they talked, the second of Amaranthium’s ringwalls approached: the ultimate frontier that protected the city’s farmlands and country estates from the dangerous Wild beyond. The guards there tended to view with suspicion
anyone
entering or leaving the city, so a bribe would be quite pricey. As they approached the gate, though, Lula swung the carrot to the right, and the pony set off down a narrow track.

‘Fancy one last meal before we leave the city?’ she asked. Kal nodded. She guessed now where they were headed: the Mooncusser Inn was a renowned smugglers’ haunt, and it was situated in a small hamlet that lay in the shadow of the ringwall. The hamlet was nestled in a deep hollow that was overflowing with fog, but yellow lights glowed from the windows of the Mooncusser to guide them safely to it. The inn was evidently open all night.

When they arrived, Lula flipped the stable boy a silver shilling. ‘Leave your chest with Ned here, Kal,’ Lula said, ‘and let’s go get loaded to the gunwalls!’

Inside, the public room was low-beamed and smoky. Men and women sat around in heavy coats and hats, despite the two hearths blazing away. Lula led Kal to a discreet booth at the back of the inn.

‘Moonheart at the Mooncusser,’ Lula joked. ‘Alright—last chance for a while to eat or drink something other than sea biscuits and rum. Although I advise against drinking the grog our boatswain serves up: it will tear a hole in your insides faster then a sabre through your stomach.’

Kal opted for ham, egg and chips, washed down with ale—an early breakfast of sorts. Lula ordered rump steak, but chose to drink rum.

‘Once you develop a taste for it, you never want to go a day without,’ she said.

‘I feel the same way about winning money at cards,’ Kal said.

As they chatted and ate, she cast her eyes around the inn and its patrons. Two men in the red uniform of the city watch were playing dominoes in one corner. Were they on duty or not?

‘The Mooncusser is a safe haven for smugglers,’ Lula assured her. ‘I can stow my unsold cloth here until I can find another buyer.’

‘Don’t the watch ever search this place?’ Kal asked, through a mouthful of food. The inn was festooned with nautical paraphernalia; rigging hung from the beams, and large oil paintings of ships at anchor off the coast of tropical islands hung from the walls. Behind her, on a shelf, was a miniature clipper in a bottle. The inn could hardly be more conspicuous if it tried.

‘They do,’ Lula said. ‘But they never seem to find anything. The sergeant of the watch in this sector is an agreeable man, and a friend. He has a lovely wife and some adorable children …’

Kal’s eyes widened. ‘You threaten his family?’

‘No!’ Lula laughed. ‘Or at least, only in the sense that they would be extremely hurt if word ever got out that the captain and I were lovers. Are you ready to go?’

Kal downed her drink and stood up. Lula motioned for her to sit back down, and made a subtle signal to the landlord. A minute later, the lad collecting empty glasses tossed something into the fire, making it flare up with green flames. As everyone’s head jerked around to look, Lula reached under the table and pulled a lever.

The table, chairs, and even a section of the room rotated one hundred and eighty degrees. Kal gasped in amazement as the inn slid out of sight. But the fun wasn’t over yet—with a quiet mechanical rumble, their table descended into the basement. They found themselves in a stone chamber, where a tunnel of natural rock led off into darkness.

Kal sat in awed silence for a moment, while Lula watched her expression, drinking in her reaction. Finally, Kal stood up. Her sea chest had been placed ready for her on the floor; she took hold of the handle on one end and Lula took the other. Lula took a lantern from an alcove, and together they plunged into the tunnel.

As they passed between large, white stone blocks—the foundations of the ringwall, Kal presumed—she idly wondered, as she always did at times like this, when she would return to the city.

She never ever wondered
if
she would return.

I.iv

Calico Cove

Kal and Lula struggled along the coastal path. In the Wild, outside the city walls, the paths were seldom-travelled, let alone maintained. The rugged coastline rose and fell, and Kal and Lula found themselves climbing rocky steps and sliding down muddy slopes, all while lugging Kal’s sea chest between them. A downpour of freezing rain upped the ante and made the journey twice as hazardous; Kal could barely see two feet in front of her. Lula finally called a halt under a rocky outcrop.