The Sail Weaver (17 page)

“What?” Tristan asked, focusing on the man.

“Yeah, I heard that there’s some dragons that have gone missing, not heard from again.”

“How many?”

“Numbers vary, you know how it is, Master Weaver. Some say one, others a hundred, the answer is in the middle somewhere, would be my guess.”

“Harkins!” someone shouted from the streets.

“I hear my name,” he laughed. “I’ll be back here for the next few days with any news I can get, Tommy.”

“Thank you, Harkins.”

“Sir.” The man walked out of the restaurant, Tristan noticed he had a pronounced limp. When he reached the outer corridor, he waved then turned and walked into the crowd.

“Tommy?” Tristan asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Harkins knew me when I was a mid, and later we served on a ship together.” Thom glanced away. “The one I was telling you about. He was Ship’s Master when it was taken. He helped me escape, but he didn’t get away for another four years. When he did,
the Navy ruled that he was too unpredictable to stay in the service and stripped him of his rank.”

“So he stayed out here?”

“Yeah, he stuck with the sailors out here, there are groups of them that hire themselves out for various ships for a set amount of time. He’s done rather well for himself really, but he’s not all that fond of the Navy.” Thom smiled. “He’s the reason I survived that first attack, so he can call me Tommy to his dying day.” Shaking himself, he looked over at Tristan. “Have you ever been this far out?”

“No.”

“Then you need to see more of the station!” Thom said excitedly. “It’s different from the ones in the inner system, but there is really no way to explain it, you just have to see it for yourself.”

“That was my plan before you showed up and Muher got distracted.”

“You’re safe on this level, and most of the lower ones as well. The Guild is well liked here. I can’t say it is on every station out here, but Terra
Octodecimus
is loyal to Guild and Dragon.”

“That’s comforting,” Tristan said, standing. “Although I thought Terra Secundus was, and I almost got taken by slavers.”

They headed back out into the shopping area. Tristan wandered past the stalls, getting a few more items, sharing news of the inner systems. On the other side of the shopping area, Thom turned and they started following a stripe of purple. “This heads to another shopping area, one with some more interesting items. It’s the crafters’ market.”

The corridor was rusted, and somewhere something was dripping. An odd smell pervaded the area, but Tristan trusted Thom and followed him as he led the way to the next plaza. This was, if anything, even more foreign. There was an actual blacksmith working, his forge warming one corner of the plaza. A woman sat on a table weaving baskets.
As they wandered through the market,
Tristan bought a few odds and ends. And then they found an artisan who had a collection of various games. After marveling at the craftsmanship of several different ones, Tristan ended up buying an ornate backgammon board that was for sale. It had been made from a collection of spare parts, cogs and wheels carefully crafted. The board itself was inlaid with steel and black iron. He gladly paid for it
and tucked it in his bag.

“It’s getting late, Tristan, we should head back. The station is friendly, but we don’t want to be caught out at night.”

“We don’t?”

“No, definitely not. We can head down to the lower docks tomorrow, if you want. I was down there earlier and everything is calm at the moment. I thought I saw a couple familiar dragon tails,” Thom said with a laugh.

“What are they doing down there?”

“Maybe Fenfyr will tell you when we get back.” Thom led the way back down the corridor. “But I’m not taking a chance with your life and staying out too late.”

As they walked back, Tristan noticed that all the stalls were closing and the stores locking their doors. Apparently he and Thom weren’t the only ones who weren’t safe at night.

XVII

A soft tapping woke Tristan as three bells in the morning watch sounded. He frowned and rolled over, thinking it was someone making repairs nearby, but the tapping came again, this time more insistent. He pushed himself out of bed and walked through the cabin. Fenfyr hadn’t returned to the ship and the room felt empty without his comforting presence. The third time the knock sounded, Tristan wrenched the door open, ready to let whoever was there know it wasn’t a good idea to wake him up. He stopped when he realized it was Thom,
once again not in uniform. The first o
fficer smiled and slipped into the room.

“A little early, isn’t it?” Tristan asked, closing the door.

“It is. I’m heading down to the lower levels, I heard something and I thought I should check it out, but I figured I should leave word with someone—just in case I don’t come back.”

“Right,” Tristan said, heading to his bedchamber and grabbing civilian clothes.

“What are you doing?”

“Going with you, of course. You didn’t really think you could drop by and say something like that and then expect me to let you leave?”

“It’s too dangerous.” Thom’s voice was low and urgent. “Muher didn’t come back last night, or report in this morning.”

“
Fenfyr’s
not back either,” Tristan said, suddenly worried about the dragon’s absence. “I’m going.” He held his hand up when Thom opened his mouth to protest. “No one will recognize me without the uniform.”

“I don’t like it,” Thom muttered.

“Riggan?” Tristan called.

“Sir?” the man answered immediately.

“If we’re not back by eight bells in the afternoon watch, go into the Guild offices and tell them what’s going on.”

“Yes, sir. And I will just make sure everyone thinks you and Mr. Barrett are off on station again.”

“Thank you, Riggan,” Tristan said, then turned to Thom. “I’m ready.”

Thom nodded and they slipped up the stairway to the quarterdeck. There was a small group of men working on the forecastle, but they didn’t even turn as Tristan and Thom walked across the quarterdeck and onto the gangway. Once they were on the dock, Thom headed in the opposite direction from the one Tristan had taken the day before. As they turned into a corridor, he noticed that the lines of color that guided people through the station were mostly missing here. The purple one to the crafters’ market was there, but very few others. Thom knew where he was going, however, and after a few turns they reached a lift. A few moments later they were twenty levels down.

“This is where the other docks are,” Thom said, stepping out of the lift.

The first thing Tristan noticed was the smell—the scent of mildew, rust and rot that filled the corridor. Enough so that he wondered if it was purposeful to discourage visitors. Since Thom made no mention of it, he followed the officer along the passageway. It opened up into a shopping plaza, the shops and restaurants were opening as they arrived. Without stopping, they crossed the area and went into another corridor marked with a gray line.

It was darker here, only every third light was working and Tristan was beginning to feel vulnerable. Thom had been right, he should have stayed on the ship. This was no place for him. It was a little late for regret, though
,
and he ignored the feeling of a knife between his shoulders and plowed on. They had been in the
passageway for several minutes when Thom stopped.

“Did you hear that?” he asked.

“What?” Tristan said.

“It sounded like…” He stopped as a low groan reached them.

“I heard that.” Tristan turned in the direction of the sound. There was a door in a recess in the hallway, mostly closed.

Thom walked over and pushed it open. Tristan noticed the dark uniform of the Dragon Corps before he actually recognized
Chris
Muher. “General?” Thom was beside him an instant later.

“
Wha
…”
Muher
groaned again.

“Is he hurt?” Tristan asked.

“So far no bones broken,” Thom reassured him.

“Master Tristan? What are you…?” Muher opened his eyes. “Help me up.”

“Are you okay?” Tristan asked, concerned.

“Yeah, well, no, but not so bad. Someone was through a little while ago to check on me, and I wanted them to think I was still down for the count,” he said, sitting up and looking at them. His face had several bruises on it.

“Disagree with someone again?” Tristan said, eying the man.

“You could say that. I think it was more they disagreed with me being down here at all. I was following a bit of information I heard and ended up in the middle of a brawl somehow.”

“Just somehow?” Thom asked sarcastically. “You stumble into them often?”

“Sometimes,” the general said.

“What did you hear?” Tristan looked out into the corridor to make sure they were still alone.

“There’s a Vermin ship in one of the docking stations.”

“What?” Tristan turned back to him in shock.

“I thought as much, from what I’ve been hearing.” Thom said, nodding. “We need to get a look at it.”

“More than that,” Muher said, carefully easing himself onto his feet. “Dome Twelve.”

“I was asking around earlier and found out they were looking for a crew for a ship docked there. I said I would come by,” Thom said.

“How were you planning on getting off?” the general asked.

“Running,” Thom said with a laugh.

“Have you seen Fenfyr or Taminick?” Tristan asked quietly as they headed back into the passages, then on towards the docks.

“No, I thought I saw Taminick for an instant yesterday, but I wouldn’t swear to it.”

“You can’t come with us to check out the ship,” Thom said firmly. “At least not in that coat.”

“What?” Muher looked confused for an instant. “Oh.” He shed his uniform coat and tore the ceremonial buttons of the Corps off his pants. “For the first time ever I am glad they aren’t really buttons.” He rolled them in his coat and tucked it in a dark corner.

When they stepped out onto the docks, Tristan didn’t notice anything different—at least not at first. There were no complete Naval uniforms here, only pieces of them—a tattered coat or set of breeches, but only here and there. Tristan remembered what Thom had said about being trapped on a pirate vessel for a year and wondered if those tattered uniforms belonged to prisoners—or dead men. Shoving the morbid thought away, he followed Thom across the plating towards Dome Twelve.

When they reached the gangway, Tristan noticed a foul odor—the sick-sweet scent of rotting flesh. Squaring his shoulders, he walked up the gangway behind Thom, trying his best to look like he belonged. It was harder than he thought, especially as they reached the ship. A man stopped them at the end of the gangway.

“Where are you heading?” he sneered.

“Where do you think?” Thom snapped. “Or weren’t you told to be expecting your new gunner and mates this morning?” He leaned in close to the man, threatening without being overly so.

“I was, just making sure. There was a Dragon Corps officer spotted earlier. Can’t stand those men, get all teary-eyed over a pack of draft horses.”

Thom laughed. “Good man, keep your eyes peeled.” He stepped onboard and gestured for Tristan and Muher to follow him. As they walked on deck it took everything Tristan had in him to keep going.

It
was
a Vermin ship. Tristan had to swallow the bile that rose in his throat several times, trying to keep from getting sick. He doubted their cover story would work if he vomited all over the place. The
dark deck was stained and the masts were stripped, the sails wound tight, held in check by massive chains to prevent their escape. The further he walked onto the ship, the stronger a voice in his head became. All it said was
“release me”
over and over. The last spark of what had been an immensely beautiful and intelligent creature, reduced to a life of slavery and servitude, begging for death.
“I will, I promise,”
he thought back. He was sure he felt the ship sigh. The true horror of the ship was ground into his memory forever when he noticed what had once been the graceful head tufts now mounted next to what must be the Elemental Interface. Tristan turned away from it.

Thom had disappeared below deck, reappearing a moment later with something in his hands. “We need to go, now.”

“What?”

“We need to get off the ship. Now. I programmed the weapons systems to overload and blow. The ship knows and won’t let anything stop it now.”

Tristan nodded, his throat dry. The crew on deck looked at them oddly as they ran for the gangway, several stopped what they were working on to watch them. The man standing guard at the door tried to stop them, Thom knocked him over and they pounded down the gangway. Tristan heard a shout behind them, but ignored it as he whispered the spell of release, freeing the trapped dragon’s soul and letting it die in peace. Muher slammed the portal between the gangway and the dock closed behind them right as the chain reaction started and the ship exploded.

Tristan felt her death, felt the loss of the dragon. He’d never been this close to a Vermin ship, but he sensed her as she died, happy in the instant of release from her life of slavery. He must have stumbled, because the next thing he was really aware of was Thom propping him up as they ran across the docks and up another gangway.

“Harkins!” Thom shouted as they stepped onto the ship.

“Tommy Boy, what brings you here?” the man said calmly, Tristan heard it all though a ringing in his head.

“I thought I’d come to see your new ship. Can we get a cup of tea?” Thom asked, sounding out of breath.

“Of course, come below.”

Tristan let himself be led below deck and set in a chair. He was still dazed from what had happened. When a cup of tea was put in front of him, he looked up. “Where are we?”

“On the
Noble Lady
,” Harkins answered with a laugh. “A bit run-down in her old age, but still dignified. I’m her Master these days, and ’tis a good crew she has, out for the bounty on them that prey on others.”

“It’s a privateer ship, Tristan,” Thom said, sitting down. “They hunt pirates.”

“Isn’t it a little dangerous to be docked here?”

“We only hunt those that use them vile ships, so the others leave us be,” Harkins said with a smile. “Was that your handiwork, Tommy lad?”

“It was, I remembered what you taught me.” Thom grinned. “The ship was ready to go.”

“What’s wrong with this one?” Harkins pointed to Muher, who was paper-white.

“I knew, I’ve been told, I’ve seen them in space,” Muher said, shaking his head. “I never really believed.”

“What?” Harkins asked.

“About the Vermin ships.”

“What did you think it was? Tales to scare children?” Harkins laughed bitterly.

“I thought it was…” Muher looked helplessly at Tristan.

“Not a dragon?” Tristan said sadly. “I know. I wanted to think so too. Fenfyr explained it to me, they slave the dragon to the technology, so all but a tiny bit of the dragon’s intelligence is gone, but it is aware. It has to be to use the Winds so the ship can fly, to control the ship’s systems. The dragons
are
the
Vermin
s
’
ships. They can’t kill themselves, the Vermin make sure of that, but if the chance arises, they will not fight death.”

“No, they won’t,” Thom said. “In fact, they will even help overload the systems—at least of the captured pirate vessels.”

“It wasn’t your first time?” Tristan asked, looking at the man with new respect.

“No, me and Harkins have taken out a few along the way.” Thom glanced up at the older man. “We even earned a bounty or two.”

“Indeed we did,” Harkins said.

“I still…” Muher was shaking his head. “I just…”

“You never got out to the Rim?” Thom asked the general.

“I have, I’ve even been in a battle with a Vermin ship, I just never realized. I thought it was only part—the sails, not the… By the Eldest, that was a
dragon.
”

“She’s free now,” Tristan said softly. “And grateful she was released.” He looked over at Barrett. “We have to find Fenfyr and Taminick and let them know.”

“Would that be the big black and silver dragon or the red one?” Harkins asked.

“Both of them.”

“They were here earlier, I saw them over by Dome Twelve. They knew what was there, but there was no way for them to get on the ship right then. That’s why I got word to you, Tommy.”

“Thank you, Harkins.”

“Harkins! What in all the damn worlds is going on?” a man said, storming into the room. He was about
Muher’s
age and wearing a civilian coat that resembled a captain’s uniform.