The Destruction of the Books (7 page)

Juhg waited patiently, hopeful that they would identify the ship in the next few minutes as just another merchanter. Dawn would come in a short while. Surely, then he and Raisho could return to
Windchaser
for the night’s rest they’d missed.

“We need a glass to see her better,” Raisho said a short time later. “Didn’t think to ask the cap’n fer one.”

Even if they’d possessed a spyglass—which, Juhg admitted in light of tonight’s activities—would have earned that name, he doubted they could have seen the ship. As soon as the new arrival came to a rest among the other ships, most of the lanterns faded from sight. Shadows filled the decks.

“Can’t see her clear enough from here,” Raisho whispered.

“Neither can I,” Juhg replied in a low voice, thinking they had done all that they could do. Captain Attikus would surely understand that.

“We’re gonna have to get closer.”

“No!” Juhg exclaimed.

Raisho sat with his back to the mountainside and looked at Juhg. The young sailor took a deep breath. “Not ye, bookworm. I’ll do it. The cap’n, he’s gonna want a full report of what’s what. I ain’t goin’ back without one after him tellin’ me to come all this way. Cap’n Attikus ain’t a man to leave things half done. I ain’t plannin’ on bein’ one neither.”

“What are you going to do?”

Nodding toward the unknown ship and grinning wolfishly, Raisho said, “Go out there. Have meself a look an’ see if’n I can tell whether that’s a goblin ship or not.”

“You could get killed,” Juhg pointed out.

“Well,” Raisho said, a white grin showing, “I plan not to.”

*   *   *

With the lateness of the hour, several of the cargo skiffs bobbed at the ends of hawser ropes along the uneven shore. Iron mooring rings hammered into the stone held the lines in place. The crews that had manned the skiffs had left the light craft there for the next day. Some of the skiffs rubbed against the stone surfaces and each other, creating hollow
thuds
that provided part of the undercurrent of noise in the harbor. Throughout all of the noises, the sea lapping at the limestone foundation of the mountains remained constant.

Juhg stood flattened against the mountainside along the ledge that led to the docks. Water had worn the place smooth and straight for the most part, but chisels and hammers had shaped the rest. He stood on a section slick with the salt spray and seaweed the tide had brought in.

“This could be a bad mistake,” Juhg whispered.

“Usually,” Raisho said, “mistakes don’t come any other way.” He paused. “Except maybe … worse.”

Juhg forced himself to swallow the lump at the back of his throat. He knew that Captain Attikus would chastise them for taking such a chance, but at the same time he knew that the captain would appreciate any news they brought about the ship.

If
they got news and didn’t end up in chains or dead.

Shadows from a nearby merchant ship covered the skiff area. In the darkness fostered between the moonless night and the black sea, Juhg knew their chances of being seen taking one of the small craft were slim. Most of the ship’s crews had turned in, either drunk from a night spent in the taverns or worn-out from long hours laboring with the cargo and setting their ships to rights.

Raisho untied the line holding one of the skiffs. Pulling the rope, he tugged the skiff to the stone shelf where they stood. He gripped the skiff and guided it alongside. Water slapped the hull like hollow drumbeats. The lanterns at either end of the craft clanked at the ends of the short chains that held them to the posts.

“Wait,” Juhg said.

Raisho looked over at him.

“You shouldn’t go out there alone,” Juhg whispered.

After a brief hesitation, Raisho said, “I have to admit, I don’t fancy it none. In case there’s trouble.”

“You could get caught.”

“Maybe I’ll get seen, but catchin’ me?” Raisho shook his head. “No, now, that’s a whole ’nother tale to tell.”

“What I mean,” Juhg said, regretting his words but knowing he couldn’t live with himself any other way, “is that I’m coming with you.”

Raisho scowled. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Neither is going in the first place.”

“I’m able to take care of meself, bookworm. Now, ye, on the other hand—” Raisho stopped, kind enough not to point out that Juhg lacked in the area of fighting prowess.

“Two are better than one.” Juhg forced himself to step away from the shelter of the stone. He carefully crossed through the maze of lines before him, joining Raisho. Water lapped up over the edge and swirled around his ankles. Thankfully, the boots remained watertight, but the water was cold and penetrated the thick socks he wore. “You take too many risks. I won’t do that. I’m more careful than you are.”

A frown twisted Raisho’s features. “I’d rather see ye out of harm’s way.”

Juhg looked at his friend. “And that’s how I’d prefer to see you.”

Grinning, shaking his head, Raisho said, “Well, then, ain’t we a right an’ fine pair?”

“If you go, you go with me,” Juhg said, hoping his friend would back out. At the very least, Raisho would recognize the danger of taking him aboard. “We could wait on the shore and see who comes off that ship.”

“An’ if’n they don’t come? Or if’n they don’t come till daybreak, when maybe they can see us right back? When maybe they’re rested up again?”

Juhg didn’t have an answer for that.

Pulling the skiff hard against the stone shelf, Raisho said, “It’s better this way, bookworm. I’d prefer facin’ ’em while they’re all tuckered out a mite from fightin’ the sea.” He patted the skiff. “I’ll hold ’er. Ye just step aboard.”

With definite reluctance, Juhg ignored the fearful clamoring inside him and stepped into the skiff. Short-legged as he was, he wasn’t able to put his foot in the center of the craft and keep it balanced. The skiff threatened to slide away. Raisho cursed quietly but held on to the little boat.

Gingerly, Juhg moved to the center of the skiff, then to the prow. He had never liked small boats. Ships, at least, carried enough mass and solid footing to inspire a little confidence.

Raisho stepped aboard easily, hardly stirring the skiff. He took the bench seat in the bow and motioned Juhg farther toward the prow. “Light the lantern there. Then take up that pole an’ shove us off.”

“We’re going to be seen.” Juhg took out the tinderbox he carried.

“We don’t light these lanterns, we’re gonna get noticed somethin’ fierce out there.” Raisho started removing the oars from the oarlocks.

Realizing the logic in Raisho’s words, Juhg bent to the task. He raised the slim tube of hurricane glass to expose the wick. The thick stink of cargiff oil stuffed his nostrils.

Juhg struck sparks with his flint and steel, then blew an ember to life on the wick. A yellow glow, much too cheery for anything like the clandestine work they were doing, at least to Juhg’s way of thinking, sprang easily to life. He crossed the skiff with the lantern and lit the one aft.

“Fair enough,” Raisho said, settling both oars into the water with slight splashes. “Now, ye just set yerself an’ let’s be about our business.”

Nervously, Juhg took an oar from the prow and sat on his knees. He cast off the prow line, then paddled to bring the skiff around to face the open water. Once he’d turned the boat toward the middle of the harbor, Raisho gripped both oars and pulled. The skiff lurched forward with surprising speed, skating over the tops of the incoming waves.

Remaining on his knees and paddling, Juhg aided in guiding the skiff. With the skill that he had, Raisho could have done the job himself, but the forward oar made steering easier. Salt spray broke over the skiff’s prow and coated Juhg, stinging his eyes and nostrils. Mercifully, the traveling cloak kept him dry enough. The lantern bobbed and waved overhead.

Voices carried farther and faster over water. Juhg had become aware of that at the Yondering Docks while learning the rudiments of sailing. Snatches of conversations reached the dweller’s ears. Judging from most of what he heard, Kelloch’s Harbor held a number of cutthroats and pirates tonight.

Or maybe they’re just sailors,
Juhg told himself.
Maybe all these tales of violence and robbery and sea monsters are balderdash.

But he knew that wasn’t true. The constant threat of pirates, murderers, sea monsters, and evil wizards kept Greydawn Moors hidden from the rest of the world. And the possibility of a book in goblin hands caused Juhg to reach inside himself for the courage he needed to take the trip with Raisho. That, and his friendship with the young sailor.

Surprisingly, none of the few scattered sailors standing watch on the ships around the harbor paid the skiff any mind. A few other cargo skiffs plied the waters, their lanterns waving as gaily as the one above Juhg’s head.

The dweller watched the suspect ship’s decks. Few shadows moved there, and only a few lanterns marked the ship’s presence. He didn’t understand that. A crew just coming into harbor usually stood at the ship’s rails to see the other ships and what was available. When the captain released them from duty, except for a guard crew, they headed for the taverns.

“’Ware there, bookworm,” Raisho called softly.

In almost the same instant, Juhg spotted the soft lantern glow that sprouted up amidships. As he watched, goblin sailors climbed from belowdecks.

The goblins stood almost as tall as humans, provided the goblins didn’t stand hunched over as they normally did. Almost as broad across the shoulders as dwarves, goblins tended toward skinny and fat, depending on how high up one was in whatever hierarchy one belonged to. The higher up in the hierarchy, where the spoils grew more plentiful, the fatter the goblin.

The lantern light ghosted over the goblin sailors, adding a glowing sheen to the splotchy skin that somewhat masked the horrid gray-green natural hue. Triangular heads held wide jaws and broad, flat skulls that tapered to narrow chins the same blunt shape as a leatherworker’s punch. Spiky black hair covered the heads, matched by the spiky beards the males and the females wore, as well as the tufts of hair that jutted from the huge, wilted ears that framed the fierce features as forcefully as bookends.

Goblin children possessed faces that nothing could love, not even goblin parents. As a general rule, goblinkin children were uglier than the mothers and fathers. The little creatures grew up hateful and jealous, and remained so. Only Lord Kharrion had ever talked the goblinkin hordes into setting aside traditional feuds and enmity long enough to become an army.

The goblins dressed as sailors, wearing breeches and shirts, but the creatures could never have passed for anything other than goblins. Swords and knives hung from waist sashes. The sailors spoke in goblinkin tongue: rapid clicks and whistles that made them sound like animals.

Juhg tried to make out the splinters of bone and beads woven into the goblins’ whiskers. Tribes and clans marked members by the patterns and number of beads and bones used in beards. Generally, the bones came from humans, elves, and dwarves the creatures had fought and killed.

Or humans, elves, and dwarves the goblins caught unawares and murdered,
Juhg amended. None of the bones were supposed to be those of dwellers. No goblinkin would ever admit to using a dweller’s bones, and that possibility was used as a taunt when goblins argued, but Juhg felt certain the foul creatures did use dweller bones for barbaric decorations.

Despite his efforts, Juhg did not recognize the designs in the whiskers of the ship’s crew. Then he realized that Raisho was calling to him. He glanced over his shoulder.

“To port,” Raisho urged with quiet desperation. “To port. The ship there. Quick-like.”

Taking a firmer grip on the oar in his hands, Juhg pulled the skiff toward the nearby ship. His heart hammered. He felt the iron manacles clamped around his wrists and ankles as if they were still there. He also felt the rough wooden handle of the miner’s pick that he’d carried for all those long years of his captivity. His back still bore scars from the whips of the harsh goblin taskmasters and tormentors that had run the mine shifts.

“Back, now,” Raisho called. “Ease off on her an’ pull her about, now.”

Skillfully, due in large part to Raisho’s abilities, the skiff tucked in close to the two-master cog. The ship’s deck rocked on the tide twelve feet overhead.

“An’ blow out that lantern.”

Juhg lifted the hurricane glass and blew out the fluttering flame. Nervously, he peered upward, wondering if they’d alerted the ship’s crew standing watch over the vessel. If they were spotted, he felt certain the hue and cry of alarm would fill the harbor. At the very least, they would be challenged about their presence.

“Be easy,” Raisho whispered. He sat in the skiff’s bow, his attention on the goblin ship. His sword lay naked across his knees.

“They’re goblins.” Juhg kept his voice low and tried to keep his fear under control.

“Aye. I see that, right enough.”

“We can go back now.”

Raisho nodded.

“Captain Attikus only wished to know if the ship belonged to goblins.” Juhg wanted to be back aboard
Windchaser,
snug and warm and safe beneath his cover in his hammock. He trembled in the cold night air, but he knew it wasn’t because of the chill.

“Aye,” Raisho agreed. “That he did, an’ he will as soon as we tell him.”

The goblins talked in excited, or possibly angry, voices. A fat goblin in an ill-fitting captain’s uniform stepped onto the deck and the crew fell silent. The captain talked for a moment, then the crew swung longboats over the ship’s sides on block-and-tackle falls and plopped them into the water.

“An’ once we tell the cap’n,” Raisho asked, “what do ye think he’ll want to know next?”

Glumly, already knowing what his friend was thinking, Juhg kept silent. The splashes of the goblin oars hitting the water as the crews filled the boats rolled over him.

“I’m thinkin’,” Raisho said, “that the cap’n will want to know if’n there’s truly a book aboard that ship.”

“He will,” Juhg agreed.

“The way I see it, there’s two ways the cap’n can find that out. Mayhap he’ll keep
’Chaser
here fer a few more days, then follow that ship out into open water an’ take her.”