The Sail Weaver (21 page)

“All’s well so far,” Aubrey said.

“So far?” Tristan repeated.

“Well, I’m not planning on anything bad happening, but I am making sure we’re prepared,” Thom said.

“So you think something bad is going to happen?” Tristan asked.

“Yes, sir,” Aubrey said. “We’re just trying to limit how bad it gets.”

“How bad?”

“Very, Master Tristan,” Thom said. “We’re preparing for the worst.”

“And then some,” Aubrey added.

XXI

The
Winged Victory
was two days out from Terra
Octodecimus
and things were going smoothly. The last of the repairs had been finished and the crew had settled down for the long run to Terra
Vingensumus
. Tristan had spent most of the first day on deck, making sure the sails were functioning correctly. The Winds were still unexpectedly strong, something that was worrying the ship’s officers. They had contacted Naval headquarters and had been informed that there were no storms or anomalies in the area. Stemmer had taken to stalking across the deck from bow to stern through the daytime watches, and Thom was beginning to show the edges of exhaustion from serving the morning watch in addition to being on deck all day.

Taminick had quietly left the ship partway through their first day away from the station. Fenfyr let Tristan know she was gone, but nothing else. He didn’t press the dragon for answers, there was a very good chance that whatever errand she was on was one Fenfyr knew nothing about. The dragon was making his presence felt throughout the ship, turning up at odd moments on every deck, and in every public space. Once every other watch he would check the soldered hatchway to the lower deck. The dragon told Tristan he smelled fresh solder: the hatch had been opened and closed while they were on the station. There was a hint of something else, but the dragon couldn’t
explain what it was.

Tristan had invited Thom and Muher to his cabin for tea, and Riggan was happily preparing a fancy meal, despite Tristan’s insistence that it wasn’t necessary. The servant had
tsked
in mock-horror and gone on setting up the tea service and a selection of food on a table that sat between the three wing-back easy chairs in the main cabin. Now that things were settling down, Tristan wanted to talk to the others about the rumors that Riggan had been relating to him. Riggan still regularly checked for listening devices and Fenfyr gave the cabin “a thorough sniffing” every evening, giving them a safe place to talk.

The men arrived together. Riggan showed them in, poured tea into the cups and quietly absented himself. Tristan suspected he was standing outside the door to make sure no one got too close while the three were meeting.

“You said tea,” Thom said, looking at the pile of food.

“Riggan has his own ideas,” Tristan said with a laugh.

“I told you, Thom.” Muher was laughing. “He didn’t believe me.”

“I forget that Riggan is the only one that gets to push Master Tristan around, Chris,” Thom pointed out with a sly smile.

“He doesn’t push me around; he just has very clear ideas of my dignity as Warrior Weaver.”

“And Master Weaver of the whole Guild,” Muher said, sounding remarkably like Riggan. “He makes sure the crew knows and never forgets that little tidbit. It’s interesting, watching the reactions. Some of the crew is happy with it—others not so much, and the new crew is downright hostile.”

“The new crew?” Tristan asked. “The men brought on board at the station?”

“Yes. They are a very diffe
rent group. All skilled sailors
and they have all been moved into positions of relative authority, which is unheard of for pressed men. It’s making me a little nervous.”

“It makes me more than a little nervous. When I asked the captain about it, he nearly took my head off. I was sure I was going to end up flogged in front of the crew.” Thom looked at them, and Tristan could see the man was not joking about the punishment. “They are being positioned throughout the ship too, gunners,
communications, on the sails, everywhere.”

“Then we have the problem of the men Hall and I wanted to get rid of that are still here—the ones that survived the attack. They are all anti-Weaver and very vocal about it. The attitude is being openly encouraged,” Muher added.

“Is that why I am not allowed out of my cabin alone anymore?” Tristan asked with a half-smile.

“Yes, and you are not to go anywhere on the ship without someone trustworthy with you. If you can arrange for Fenfyr to be with you, it’s the best option,” Muher said vehemently.

“We’re being serious,” Thom said, meeting Tristan’s eyes. “There is something
wrong
onboard and removing you seems to be part of the plan. I only wish I knew what it was.”

“Fenfyr told you that the hatch had been re-soldered?” Tristan sipped his tea.

“Yes, and I went down to check it personally. There is no way to tell what went in or came out,” Muher said.

“Fenfyr said it smelled different, too.”

“I wish I had a dragon’s nose sometimes, but we still don’t know what any of it means.” Thom sighed. “And the Winds are behaving oddly, it’s almost like there is a storm brewing somewhere, but headquarters said no.”

“A storm? You’re being literal?” Tristan asked.

“Yes. I told you a little about the one when I was onboard the pirate vessel. They happen in space; the thing is, usually there is more warning. The one that hit us back then was like a squall, it came up out of nowhere. The Winds had been off for a few days, then we were hit.” Thom was quiet for a minute. “I am a fool.”

“What?” Tristan and Muher said together.

“The Winds, the storm—it came up out of nowhere and right behind it was a Vermin scout ship riding in on the backend of the storm.”

“So you think that might be happening now?” Tristan was watching the first officer, there was more to it than what Thom was telling them.

“I think it might.”

“So how do we locate the squall?”

“I’m not sure, it was just suddenly there—at least from my
perspective. I wasn’t on the
nav
boards or communications. We need to get word to Terra
Vigensumus
to watch out for a possible storm and Vermin incursion.”

“You think that’s where they will come through?” Muher asked, grabbing a sandwich.

“No, I think they will come through someplace where there is a hole in our defenses, then head straight for the inner system. I think when they come this time, they are going to come in full force, and I think no matter what the Navy thinks, we have never faced them in force before. They are going to cut through our defenses like a hot knife through butter unless the Navy gets the fleet—the whole fleet—in to meet them.”

“You think it’s come to that?” Tristan had never heard Thom talk this way.

“I do! I have since I first started work on this ship. We are supposed to be the ship that stops them, but how can we if we are out here in deep space and they invade on the other side somewhere?”

“Those pirates did a lot of damage to us, how can we stop the Vermin fleet?”
Muher’s
voice had a hint of sarcasm in it.

“Those pirates, Chris,” Thom growled, “had copies of the plans of this ship. They knew exactly wh
at they were doing to cripple her
. The captain was fighting them as if they were simple pirates. If he had taken the time to notice, he would have seen that all the shot raining on deck was a distraction for the real damage being done to our hull.”

“The attack also killed off a lot of the non-pressed crew, didn’t it, Thom?” The thought had just occurred to Tristan.

“It did, they were on deck or manning guns that didn’t fire.”

“I didn’t know,” Muher said. “Helps if you keep me in the loop, you know.”

Thom looked away for a minute, then back, meeting
Muher’s
eyes. “I wasn’t sure who I could trust at that point, Chris. I know you are Dragon Corps, but…”

“Yeah, I get it. You were all suspect too, until I got to know you,” the general agreed. “So far you, Aubrey, Webber and Avila seem okay. And Riggan, of course.”

“Of course,” Tristan said with a laugh, then realized something. “You didn’t list the Air Weavers.”

“No, I didn’t.” The words hung in the air between the three of them for a long time. “I still haven’t decided. They are Guild members, but they tend to run closer to the Navy than Warriors and Weavers, and the Navy is far more tolerant of them. They don’t rank senior officers, they can’t give orders. So, no, I don’t trust them completely yet.”

“I’ll remember that,” Tristan said, remembering his first day onboard and how the Air Weavers hadn’t made a point of welcoming him. “Anyone else?”

Muher laughed. “Everyone else.”

They walked onto the quarterdeck after tea. Tristan checked the sails, listening to the hum in the rigging. There was a high-note to the sound, the Winds were still wh
ipping the
Victory
through space at an incredible pace, even though almost all the sails were tightly furled. He noticed that Thom stared off into the empty space in the directi
on the Winds were blowing; the first o
fficer shook his head and turned back to the ship.

“What?” Tristan asked.

“Nothing, I hope,” Thom replied. “What’s he doing?”  He pointed towards the top of the mainmast.

Tristan looked up and caught the gleam of
Fenfyr’s
scales at the top
of the mast, in the Dragon’s Roost
. He was standing up, his wings canted to catch some of the Winds as if testing them. Tristan noticed the dragon turn
ed
his head, and he suddenly leaped free of the ship, swinging out into space. Surprised, Tristan watched until the dragon was out of sight.

“What was that about?” Thom was looking in the same direction.

“I don’t know. Dragons are unpredictable at times.”

“Very, excuse me for a moment,” Thom said, heading down from the quarterdeck. He got to the main deck as a fight broke out amongst the crew. Shearer appeared on deck, the shrill sound of his whistle cutting through the air. Tristan started towards the stairs off the quarterdeck when Muher grabbed him.

“No, sir, sorry, but you are staying right here.” The general moved to stand in front of him. “I am not letting you down on the deck in the middle of a brawl. Thom is capable of handling this, he
has Shearer and Hall’s Marines with him.”

Tristan sighed. Muher was right, but it didn’t make it easier watching his friend walk into the middle of the growing fight. More and more of the crew were getting involved, he saw the bright flash of a knife and someone shouted in pain. Suddenly three loud shots rang out and the deck fell silent. Colonel Hall stood to the side of the group, his gun out.

“Who started this?” Shearer demanded, his voice harsh in the quiet. The crew parted. A body lay on the deck, a knife protruding from its throat. “This is the man?”

“Aye, sir, ’
twas him,” the boatswain’s mate said.

“Why?”

“He were speaking against the Navy, sir, and saying unkind things about the officers, sir. There’s some of us that didn’t agree with that.”

“Who killed him?” Thom demanded.

The group stood still, none moving, none speaking.

“Well?” Shearer snapped.

Still no one spoke.

“Fine,” Thom said, his voice clear. “Double duty for all on deck and no ration tonight.” There was an angry muttering. “Does anyone wish to disagree?”

Tristan guessed that no one did when the group dispersed back to their duty stations. The med team arrived and took the body away, and after pacing out to the bowsprit and back, Thom came back onto the quarterdeck. “Damn all,” he said as he walked over.

“What?” Muher asked.

“He was one of the pro-Guild crewmen. I doubt he was saying anything about the Navy. I think he was being removed.”

“You think he was killed on purpose?” Tristan asked, aghast.

“Yes, like Anderson while we were still on station. They said he got drunk in the red light district and ran into a group of pirates. This death leads me to think he was killed. Horne and Anderson were close, they worked the same gun.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, but I am going to find out. I am not letting murderers run lose on this ship,” Thom growled.

“Barrett, report,” Stemmer called from the other side of the
quarterdeck. Thom stalked towards the captain, defiance in every line of his body.

“Things are getting ugly, Master Tristan,” Muher said quietly. “I wish I knew why.”

“I do, too, there has been something off about this ship since Darius first came to my office. I sometimes forget that. I’ve gotten caught up on life aboard her.” Tristan looked up and saw Fenfyr sweeping back in, angling down towards the stern gallery on his cabin. “Excuse me, General.”

“Of course,” Muher said, then escorted Tristan to the staircase that led to the private entrance to his quarters.

Fenfyr was just poking his nose through the door when Tristan walked into the cabin. “Fenfyr? Where have you been?”

“Following a scent on the Winds. Taminick is flying further, but there is something happening. The Vermin are on the move, their stink is filling space, blowing on the Winds and fouling the stars with their passing.”