'What's this?'
Neeps did not make a sound. Pazel untied the pouch and felt inside. Coins, six or eight of them. By the weight Pazel knew they were gold.
'Where'd you get these, mate?'
Neeps said not a word. He pressed a second object into Pazel's hand. It was a folded knife.
'Neeps! Is that my father's knife? It is, isn't it?'
Neeps was still fumbling in his pockets. At last he produced a final gift: the ivory whale.
'Did you have to fight Jervik?' Pazel whispered.
Neeps sniffed. Only then did Pazel realize that he was sobbing with rage and shame.
'By my grandmother's bones on Sollochstal,' he said in his squeaky voice, 'I'll see them pay for what they made me do to you.'
From the secret journal of G. Starling Fiffengurt, Quartermaster
Saturday, 13 Ilqrin. Quiet sailing on a nervous ship. Rose is tyrannical amp; Uskins cruel, but both have kept to themselves these two days since the flogging of Pazel Pathkendle, as if sated by that wicked business. For Mr. P. P. of course there is no future: he shall be put ashore in Uturphe with a purse of horsemeat amp; the mark of shame upon his papers. Uskins that great hog tried to brand his wrists-I for Insolent on one, R for Reckless the other. He had Pathkendle in the smithy amp; was heating a branding iron when I arrived amp; intervened. Not very gently, either: I told him that iron would find new amp; uncomfortable quarters if he tried to use it on one of my boys. Uskins sneered at me for defending the Muketch-the boys' strange nickname for Pathkendle. I gather it has something to do with crabs.
Uskins did quite enough damage when he made the boy's best friend, Neeps Undrabust, dole out the lashes. Mr. Undrabust walks about looking as if he'd killed someone. He has also been fighting: Mr. Jervik Lank apparently remarked that Pathkendle was a 'girly' because he'd cried under the lash-as if marines amp; mercenaries didn't as well! — amp; that Undrabust was worse, as he'd cried just because he had to whip a 'daft Ormali.' Undrabust went for him like a wildcat. Fortunately Peytr amp; Dastu were on hand amp; tore him away before anyone was hurt.
I looked the other way on this occasion, but I won't be able to do so again. Fighting is a plague that must be stamped out quickly, lest it escape all control.
Sunday, 14 Ilqrin. Foul dreams: Anni sick, her father forced to beg a loan from the Mangel thugs to buy medicine, a swarm of black insects over Etherhorde, a baby crying in the hold. Such visions have plagued me for weeks-since that awful night, in fact, when Mr. Aken of the Chathrand Trading Family was lost overboard, just a few leagues out of Ellisoq Bay. Only Swellows saw him fall, amp; though we dropped sail amp; put out the lantern craft, no trace of his body was found. Swellows claims he was staggering drunk, but I said nothing of this in the letter I wrote to his wife. His cabin showed no trace of liquor, amp; the offending bottle, if bottle there was, went with him to the deep. Rose led us in a prayer for the man's good soul-so sincerely that I could at last imagine the captain ending his days as a monk.
Currently Rose sits whole days at his desk, scribbling, leaving only for the sailmaster's report amp; his evening meal. Turwinnek Isle came amp; went, amp; the ruins of the ancient city of Nal-Burim on the southeast tip of Dremland. Commander Nagan's moon falcon was sent inland amp; returned with a fat grouse, which was served with mint at the captain's table tonight. Mr. Latzlo offered five hundred cockles for the bird, but the soldier loves his Niriviel amp; would not hear of it. One has to admire such gentle feelings in a fighting man.
Wednesday, 17 Ilqrin. Confusion amp; delays. Strong SW winds had us tacking all but back toward home from Wednesday last to yesterday morning. Since then no wind to speak of: we are reduced to a crawling two knots.
The confusion though concerns our heading. Nal-Burim is the usual signal to trim due west, for any ship bound for the Crown-less Lands. But to general amazement Rose has given no such command: we are holding a south-by-southwest course, amp; leaving the mainland behind. Mr. Elkstem inquired at the Capt.'s door amp; was told to steer as instructed amp; blast his curiosity.
Last night Pazel Pathkendle was attacked by other boys in the darkness-tied into his hammock amp; pissed upon, told that he 'should have been made a slave' amp; not 'disgraced the best ship of the best people in Alifros.' His friends Undrabust and Reyast were elsewhere. No one will give me names.
For his own safety I have moved Pathkendle's hammock to the brig, where he will sleep under lock and key until expelled in Uturphe. If we ever get there.
Monday, 22 Ilqrin. Harpooned a reaper shark; Teggatz made a soup. In his gullet (the shark's) found the whole skeleton of a human hand, with a fine silver ring on one finger. Our cook presented it to me with much blinking amp; rubbing of hands, amp; minutes later managed to say: 'Bad shark.' I shall give the ring to Annabel one day, without the tale of its provenance.
Winds NW amp; freshened considerably: seven knots at the strike of the noon bell. Still bearing south.
Sunday, 28 Ilqrin. This morning Rose gave the order to bear west-finally. At a minimum we have plunged eighty leagues out of our way. To what purpose? the men demand, amp; I have no answer.
Here's another oddity-one I'd nearly forgotten. Back in Etherhorde, Rose spared me the quartermaster's usual task of drumming up sailors to complete our crew: I was glad, for it gave me some last precious hours with Annabel. Mr. Swellows handled the recruiting, amp; he is ever keen to follow Rose's orders to the letter. How, then, did he end up signing so many Plapp's Pier men? They are capable sailors, certainly. But any fool knows the Great Ship's been crewed for generations by the Burnscove Boys.*
I took care to sort Plapps amp; Burnscovers into separate watches, amp; to mix 'em with those who don't belong to either gang. So far there have been no brawls-yet they will come, sure as I write these words. Thasha Isiq amp; her prince may wed, Arqual amp; the Mzithrin disarm, but the holy war of Plapp vs. Burnscove will rage on so long as there are crates of fish to fight over.
Wednesday, I Modoli. Apparently we have a maniac aboard. Last night by the No. 3 hatch someone attacked Hercуl Stanapeth, Ambassador Isiq's valet, amp; nearly succeeded in killing the man. He was struck a fierce blow to the head that left him briefly senseless. Next he knew, this attacker was making to hurl him over the rail. At the last instant the would-be killer groaned amp; stumbled, amp; rather than tossing Hercуl far out into the waves, he managed only to roll him over the side, where the valet's ankle caught in the mizzen-chains. The maniac then drew a knife amp; stabbed Hercуl's leg three times. But the valet, in most extraordinary fashion, kicked the knife out of the man's hand with his free foot-this while dangling upsy-downsy, bleeding from head amp; leg, amp; knocking like a landed fish against the hull.
The surprise hero of the evening is none other than Mr. Ket, Liripus Ket, the chubby merchant who has been with us since Sorrophran. This quiet seller of Opaltine soaps came out on deck while the knifing was under way, faced down the maniac with a capstan bar amp; so battered him that the lunatic dived back down the hatch to escape. Mr. Ket's shouts brought sailors running, but not fast enough to apprehend him. For the moment he is on the loose. Even more alarming, he was masked: neither Ket nor Hercуl saw his face.
Ket is an odd bird (he clears his throat with a sound like breaking timbers amp; fiddles nonstop with a tattered scarf) but obviously a brave one. We made him promise not to breathe a word about this business. 'I wouldn't-CHHRCK! — dream of it, sirs.' He'd better not. The men have already begun to mutter that perhaps Aken was helped overboard, amp; there have been dark glances at Mr. Swellows. We deck officers have been all day coaxing amp; threatening them into silence. Terror among the passengers is the last thing we need.
Sergeant Drellarek's soldiers are even now discreetly searching the ship. But how shall we recognize the villain? Ket describes a man 'of regular size,' which rules out only the augrongs amp; Mr. Neeps. A full search of the four hundred riders in third class will start a bonfire of rumors that will never go out. And in any case those ragged souls were all locked below for the night.
Who would murder a servant? I despise Mr. Swellows but cannot believe the old toad has the courage to kill. Isiq says nothing about Hercуl except that he is a grand person, well loved by all amp; tutor to Lady Thasha. He is Tholjassan, amp; they are a warrior people, but this Tholjassan is a mere servant amp; dancer. He cannot be rich. Why him? If the villain is after Eberzam Isiq, why attack the servant alone amp; apart? The crime makes no sense,
