The crow’s nest pitched in gentle, vaguely circular motion, as all headway had been surrendered and the Suncurl waddled in the swells, slowly edging crossways along the Red Road of Laughter’s End. Figures still ran here and there below, as cries for the captain finally arose, then came the horrifying news of First Mate Ably Druther’s brutal murder in the hold-by some beast unknown. A beast that could, Bena Younger heard, vanish into thin air. Panic was born anew on the deck below.
Trembling, she now found herself listening, breath held, as something bulky was being slowly hauled up the mast. All the way up, if her mother spoke true. A demon. Bena gripped ever tighter the small knife in her hand. Slit its throat, yes. With Mother’s help.
Listen! Almost here!
Sheathed in sweat, Bauchelain rolled off Captain Sater.
She moaned, then said, “Some mouthful.”
He blinked away the sting in his eyes and regarded her. “Most dire consequences follow imbibing Toblakai Bloodwine. I most humbly apologize, Captain.”
“Done with me, then?”
“I believe so.”
Armour, straps, fittings and underclothes were scattered all about the cabin. The lantern wick was dimming, oozing shadows into the corners, the light that remained singularly lurid. Somewhere nearby liquid dripped, a detail neither was anxious to pursue.
Sater sat up. “Do you hear something?”
“That depends.”
“On deck-and we’re drifting-no one’s at the wheel!”
As his gaze traveled over the captain’s bared chest-he’d torn away her blouse in the first frenzied moments-the ample mounds swinging faintly then lunging as she reached for a scrap of clothing, Bauchelain felt a stirring once more. Grimacing, he looked away. “We were to discuss this fell night,” he said, finding his quilted under-padding-one sleeve torn away at the seams-and pulling it on over his head. Pausing then to slick back his iron-hued hair.
“Ghosts,” she snarled, rising to draw up her leggings, wincing with each tug.
“Not this time,” he replied, combing through his beard. “A lich.”
Sater stopped, stared across at him. “How in Hood’s name did a lich get aboard my ship?”
“The nails, and perhaps something else. Korbal Broach no doubt knows more.”
“And I’m sure I asked-earlier-where is he?”
“He walks the warrens, I expect. Likely hunting the creature through the maze of Hood’s realm. A great risk, I might add. The Lord of Death holds no precious fondness for Korbal Broach.”
She squinted. “Hood knows your friend… personally?”
“Gods are easily irritated.” Bauchelain lifted his hauberk, the chain flowing around his hands. “I must retrieve my sword. Should the lich stride in truth into our realm, here on this ship, well, we shall face a challenge indeed.”
“Challenge?”
“Yes, in staying alive.”
“It wasn’t us!” she suddenly shouted.
Bauchelain paused, frowned at her. “You are hunted.” Then he nodded. “As we suspected. What follows in our wake, Captain?”
“How should I know?”
“Describe your crime.”
“That’s got nothing to do with anything. It wasn’t even a crime. Not really. More like… opportunism.”
“Ah, a sort of temptation to which one yields, casting aside all fear of consequences.”
“Exactly.”
“A momentary failing of ethics.”
“Just so.”
“Expedience winning its war with duty.”
“So would we argue, yes-”
“A defense based on the weakness of nature belongs to untutored children and dogs that bite, Captain. You and your cohorts are all adults and if you relinquished your honour then fierce punishment is righteous and deserves a vast audience, a mob, if you will, expressing their most civilized glee over the cruel misery of your fate.”
Her mouth hung open for a moment longer, then she reached for her sword and swiftly clasped the belt onto her pleasantly curved hips. “You’re one to talk.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“Temptation and dogs that bite and all that. Damn you, I can barely walk. Do you imagine I take kindly to rape? I even tried for my knife but you twisted my wrist-”
“It is well known that Bloodwine-even in minute traces on my lips, or in my mouth-will effect a complimentary lust in the victim. Rape ceased as a relevant notion-”
“Doesn’t matter when it ceased being whatever, Bauchelain! It’s not like I consented, is it? Now for Hood’s sake get your armour on-the weight just might hold you down-so I can start thinking straight-and don’t worry, I won’t cut your throat until we’re out of all this.”
“I did apologize,” Bauchelain said. “Impulses beyond my control-”
“Better you grabbed your manservant-”
“Since I am not inclined that way I would have murdered him, Captain.”
“We’re not done with this.”
“I dearly hope we are.”
She marched to the door and flung it open, then paused at the threshold. “Wizard, can we kill this lich?”
Bauchelain shrugged.
“Oh, would that I could kill you right now.”
He shrugged again.