Pazel made to leave, but at the door Rose's voice stopped him cold. 'A strange turn, isn't it, Pathkendle? — that of all the lords and nobles of this Empire, the one who favors you should be the conqueror of Ormael.'
On the main deck, Elkstem called for topgallants. The winching was done, the miles of kedging-line were hauled slithering back into the Chathrand. Somewhere out on the bay a warship saluted with a cannon-shot, and all the Great Ship's poultry began to squawk. Pazel had to find Neeps. If he didn't tell someone about his morning he would simply explode. But did he dare mention Steldak? Would Diadrelu see even that as a betrayal?
He had heard Swellows order Neeps to the tailor's nook, to help with mending the reserve sails. But Neeps was not there. Pazel bent down beside Reyast, the shy tarboy with the stutter, and asked after his friend. Reyast looked up from his lapful of sailcloth and blinked.
'P-P-P-Paz-zel. You have a n-n-n-ew c-c-'
'I'll tell you about the coat later, Reyast. Where's Neeps gone off to?'
'S-s-s-s-sickbay.'
'Sickbay! Why? What's wrong with him?'
Some minutes later, Reyast had succeeded in telling Pazel that Neeps was badly bruised. He had been pushed down a hatch by a new tarboy, brought aboard just yesterday. The newcomer was 'a b-b-b-baddy,' Reyast declared: older and stronger than any of them, except Peytr and Dastu perhaps, and he acted as though he were in charge of the smaller tarboys. He was enraged with Fiffengurt, who had given him no special rank, and was taking it out on the younger boys. When Neeps passed through the berth deck to retrieve his turban, the new boy had ordered him to trade shipboxes-his own had a lid that fastened poorly. Neeps laughed in his face. There were too many sailors about for a fight (which Reyast considered lucky for Neeps), but when the bigger tarboy saw the chance he had shoved Neeps from behind, sending him crashing through a hatch into the steerage compartment below-where Neeps had almost landed on a baby.
Pazel, who had seen enough cruelty for one day, found himself livid. 'What's this pig's name?' he asked.
Reyast screwed up his face with effort. 'D-f-dj-d-Jervik!' 'Jervik!' cried Pazel, aghast. 'A big lout with a hole in his ear?' Reyast nodded. Pazel questioned him no more, but ran straight for the sickbay. Jervik aboard! Had Captain Nestef finally caught him at his cruelty and sent him packing? No matter how it had occurred it was terrible news, and he hoped that somehow Reyast was mistaken. Pazel flew across the lower gun deck to the sickbay. Over the clinic's door he saw a curious sign:
SICKBAY
DR. CLAUDIUS RAIN
The first name was neatly painted in red. The second, like the line through Chadfallow's name, was a messy blue scrawl. Pazel had to steady himself on the doorjamb. Chadfallow had meant to serve on the Chathrand. But why had he changed his mind, and told Pazel to jump ship? I intend to see them, he had said of Pazel's mother and sister. Was that the reason he had planned to be aboard-or the reason he wasn't?
In the sickbay he found Neeps, slung in a hammock, with a split lip and an oilskin bag of cool water over one eye. The small boy was furious, grinding his teeth, swearing he'd teach Jervik to keep his distance.
Pazel hushed him: the new doctor, Rain, was bustling by, white eyebrows knitted. As he passed they heard him muttering to himself: 'Undrabust, Neeps Undrabust, ha ha, almost broke his neck, you boys shouldn't fool about the hatches…'
'Let him come near me again,' said Neeps when the doctor was out of earshot. 'Jervik, I mean-the cowardly rat.'
'But how did he end up on Chathrand?' said Pazel miserably.
'Said he'd just gotten rid of some tarboy he hated on his old ship,' growled Neeps. 'Boasted how he 'smacked 'im round fer a year, and the blary fool never hit back.' And then he helped some fat bosun strand the tarboy in Sorrophran. His captain overheard and threw a fit such as nobody'd ever seen, and chucked Jervik ashore with his own hands.'
'That was me!' Pazel cried. 'The one who got stranded!'
Neeps' unbruised eye fixed on Pazel. 'I'll smash 'im,' he said. 'I'll knock that gold tooth down his throat. I'll wring him out like my turban.'
'Neeps!' said Pazel, gripping his shoulder. 'Don't fight him! Rose'll throw you to the sharks! Besides, Jervik's huge, and a dirty fighter! He'll flatten you, mate!'
'Let him try it!'
It came out twy it, because of Neeps' swollen lip. His tiny fists clenched at his sides.
Pazel rose slowly and set his forehead to the wall. 'Everyone on this ship is insane,' he said.
'Hello!' said Neeps. 'Where'd you get that coat?'
And then, like a plunge into the sea, it happened. Two sailors passed the sickbay door, chatting lightly about a woman, and suddenly their voices changed-mutated, ballooned-and became a monstrous squawking.
'No!' cried Pazel, leaping up.
'Pazaaaaaaak?' said Neeps.
Dr. Rain, turning, cried, 'Squa-qua-quaaaak?'
There it was: the pressure on his skull. And filling the air, the smell of custard apple, worst odor in the world. His mind-fit had begun.
Leaving Neeps wide-eyed, Pazel ran from the sickbay into a horror of a ship filled with deafening, predatory bird-noises. He couldn't think where to hide-hide for four hours or more! — but hide he must, immediately. If they thought him mad he'd be tossed out with the bilgewater, or worse.
The lower gun deck was filled with newcomers, soldiers of some sort, busy, laughing, squawking. They gestured at him, wanting something. He ran. The hold, he thought. Get to the hold. Maybe the ambassador wasn't really expecting him just yet. Maybe no one would miss him.
He reached the No. i ladderway and began racing down the stairs. But at the berth deck Fiffengurt suddenly appeared, blocking his path. He smiled up at Pazel: 'Bachafuagaaaak!'
Pazel made a helpless face and began climbing again, which made Fiffengurt squawk the louder. Pazel leaped out at the next deck, the upper gun deck, and fled down the long row of cannon. Men were all around him, malicious and terribly loud. It's never been so bad, he thought. And then he saw Jervik, dead ahead.
Both boys froze. Jervik's eyes grew wide; he squeezed the deck-mop in his hands like something that might fly away. Pazel had the sudden idea of trying to be friendly-they'd had to work together sometimes on the Eniel, after all-but how exactly was he to do that? He couldn't speak, so he tried a smile and a little wave.
Jervik threw the mop at him like a spear.
So much for friendliness. Pazel dodged the mop and tried to do the same with Jervik, but the big tarboy caught him by the shoulder.
'Gwamothpathkuandlemof!'
Jervik tore at Pazel's new coat; brass buttons popped. Hit me, you imbecile! thought Pazel. Fiffengurt would surely evict him if he did. But Jervik merely gushed with noise, his grip tightening. And Pazel realized that in another moment Fiffengurt would appear and catch them both. That can't happen. They'll lock me up.
He turned and faced Jervik. 'Let go!' he cried, gesticulating madly. 'I'm Muketch, the mud-crab sorcerer of Ormael, and I'll turn your bones to pudding if you don't!'
Of course nothing but bird-babble came from his mouth. Usually talking during a mind-fit was the worst tactic imaginable, but today it saved him. Jervik was terribly superstitious. He froze, wide-eyed. Pazel pointed at his disfigured ear and cackled. 'When I'm done that'll be the handsomest part of you left! Now GO!'
Terrified, Jervik released him, stumbling backward, and slipped on one of Pazel's lost buttons. Pazel ran for his life.
Screeches, hoots, a wet stretch of floor. He smashed into one crewman after another. Grown men leaped away as if he might bite them. This is ending badly, he thought.
Then a hand much stronger than Jervik's seized his arm, and Pazel felt himself whirled around. For an instant he saw a man's face-gray temples, bright eyes that tapered to points-and then he was shoved bodily through a doorway, into warm smells of coffee and perfume and talc.
Little of what followed was clear to him afterward. The ambassador's face appeared in a dressing-mirror, half shaven, mouth agape. A beautiful woman swept into the room with arms outstretched, shrieking, her voice demonic. And from somewhere the golden-haired girl from the carriage appeared and looked at him with
