The Night of the Swarm

‘How long?’ asked Rose. ‘A day, a week?’

The maukslar grinned; flecks of gold shone in its teeth. ‘Longer than you have, Captain,’ it said.

Felthrup rubbed his paws together. Blast Fiffengurt to the moon’s cold backside!

‘I also did not swear to hold my tongue,’ said the maukslar. ‘Here is a dainty just for you, rat. You’re a child of the plague. The same twisted spell that created you is killing Captain Rose, and others. And if the spell should ever end there will be no more woken creatures born. You will be alone in Alifros, and in a generation or two most will doubt that you existed at all.

‘But in fact there will be no more generations. For here is another truth I am free to tell: Macadra is coming. She has staked her very soul on the winning of the Nilstone, and when she has it she will never give it up.’

‘But why is she coming?’ cried Felthrup. ‘Does she believe we have the Nilstone? Or is she chasing someone who does? Is that it? Is another ship coming our way?’

The maukslar looked at him with loathing. ‘Whether Macadra finds you first or the Nilstone does not matter. You will die at her hand, or die when the Swarm takes Alifros in its black embrace. Macadra may try to stop the Swarm, but she will fail. No sunrise will end that night, little rat. Life itself will perish, blind and frozen. Only we deathless ones will remain, feeding on the corpse.’

‘Demon,’ said Captain Rose, ‘do you know where the Stone must be taken?’

‘I know,’ said the maukslar, smiling, ‘but that is not all. I could tell you of the crawlies’ secret power. I could plot a true course for you across the Nelluroq, since the one you have is nonsense. I could help you pass safely through the Red Storm. I could tell you the fate of those you left behind.’

‘We are prepared to bargain further,’ said Felthrup. ‘We have another sixty coins-’

The creature made a sound of disdain.

A pause. Then Captain Rose said, ‘We have more than sixty — far more. There is a great hoard secreted upon the Chathrand. We can bring you ten thousand.’

The maukslar rose on its bird-feet and pointed at Rose. ‘You could bring me far more than that,’ it hissed. ‘I have seen the gold — and the pearls and gemstones — hidden all over this ship. Under the stone ballast, inside false stanchions on the mercy deck, sealed in iron shafts between the hulls. I saw you bring the hoard onto the ship in Arqual. I watched Sandor Ott remove a part of it for the son of the Shaggat Ness, saw another fraction discovered and seized by the shipwrights of Masalym. What remains you mean to give to the fanatics on Gurishal, to finance the Shaggat’s uprising and destabilise the Mzithrin. I have seen them, Rose. They tortured me, shining there, just out of my reach.’

‘We can still liberate a great many coins,’ said Rose. ‘if we take care not to alert Sandor Ott, or Sergeant Haddismal, or any of their informers. We can bring you gold by the sackful.’

‘And taunt me as you have done today? I think not. You see, I had not eaten in decades — not since Captain Kurlstaff’s day. I was starving. You fed me. Now my agonies have ceased.’

A rush of despair came for Felthrup, then. He is not lying. We can no longer make him talk. And we learned almost nothing! Not even whether our friends are alive. You proud fool, Felthrup! To think you could match wits with such a beast!

‘Why speak of agonies?’ he tried, desperate. ‘We can feed you in the finest style. Gold and more gold! Why settle for enough, O Avarice, when you can be replete?’

‘Replete, replete, that’s the word!’ said Fiffengurt.

‘Shut up, Quartermaster! Demon, you were born to be — capacious. How long since you knew the satisfaction of gluttonous excess?’

The maukslar’s jewelled hands caressed its belly. ‘I shall know it again without your help. Kazizarag was born to eat, not to suffer mockery and jibes. I shall wait out your doom. And your doom is coming, insects. Whether Macadra brings it, or the Nelluroq storms, or your own limitless folly. I need only wait for the Chathrand’s spine to snap. When it does, every spell laid down by selk or mage or murth-lord will be sundered. These bars will melt away, and I shall be free to swallow that hoard, all of it, though it lie on the bottom of the sea.’

They filed back down the passage, watched by the silent denizen of the brig. Marila and Lady Oggosk were waiting outside the Green Door. When Felthrup and the two men had all clambered out into the mercy deck, the witch made a sound of disgust and prepared to slam the door.

‘Wait!’ said Marila. ‘You haven’t given up, have you? If you close that door the blary thing will vanish, and we’ll have to start hunting it all over the ship again.’

‘You’re right, Marila!’ said Felthrup. ‘Dr Chadfallow’s study of its comings and goings is not foolproof. It might be days before we find it again.’

‘Days we don’t have to spare,’ put in Fiffengurt, ‘and who knows? Maybe that tub of grease really can help the ship escape.’

Oggosk scowled at him. ‘What, then? Leave it open? You saw that monster’s cunning, Nilus. He knew just how to attack you.’

‘He’s not Arunis, though, is he?’ said Fiffengurt. ‘We had him furious enough to dice us up for soup. But he didn’t use one charm that reached beyond his cell.’

‘He cannot,’ said Felthrup. ‘If he could, that cell could not have held him for centuries.’

‘He has a mind infernal,’ said Oggosk, ‘and he will use it against any guard we place here.’

Rose stared at the door. ‘Find Tarsel, Quartermaster,’ he said at last. ‘The door swings outward. We will fasten a plate to the floor to prevent its closing fully. Also thick chains, and padlocks, so that it may not open more than a few inches. You yourself shall hold the keys.’

‘Him? The idiot?’ cried Oggosk. ‘Why not keep them yourself? Or pass them to Gangrune? Keys are the purser’s duty.’

‘Mr Gangrune is somewhat addled of late,’ said Fiffengurt.

‘And you were born addled, you old salted sea-rat! Nilus, choose someone else, this cross-eyed bungler will only drop them down the heads, or throw them-’

‘Oggosk, be silent!’

Something in his voice made Felthrup look up in alarm. Rose was pressing his temples. His eyes were closed and his face was clenched with an expression of painful effort — or perhaps simply pain. The others noticed as well. Mr Fiffengurt and Lady Oggosk exchanged a glance — the first without rancor that Felthrup had ever witnessed.

Then Rose opened his eyes, and he swept them all with a furious glance.

‘That creature has knowledge that could save this ship. Get it out of him, you four. Nothing else concerns you. Quartermaster, your duties will pass to Mr Byrd. Consult your Polylex, consult the Quezan harpooners, consult the mucking stars if you like. But bring me something to try by sundown. That is all.’

But it was not all. Captain Rose was lumbering up the Silver Stair, brooding and stiff, when the shouting of his men pierced his thoughts. He raced up the ladderway, past the orlop and berth decks, bellowing for a report. The crawlies, Skipper! men were shouting. The crawlies are coming back!

‘Beat to quarters, fools!’ he shouted.

His command raced ahead of him. Drums sounded, the ship roared to life. When Rose burst out upon the main deck he found the crew staring up at the sky.

A flock of birds was winging towards them from the island: the same oversized swallows, bearing the little people in their claws. A large flock, but not as large as the one two days ago that had spirited Talag’s fighting force off the Chathrand. Rose made a quick estimate: some two hundred crawlies were returning to the ship.

What in the Nine Pits for? Can they possibly mean to attack?

A voice at his ear whispered suddenly: ‘There’s been blood on the wind for days, Rose. Crawly blood. We’ve smelled it.’

The ghost of Captain Maulle, almost invisible in the crisp morning light.