“He’s not blaming me for it. But he sent me to tell Stryke.” He glanced at their brooding captain at the bow.
“And you’re not keen on the job?”
Wheam shook his head.
“Why can’t Dallog tell Stryke himself?” Coilla wondered.
“Dunno. He seems to be more involved with the other tyros right now. Well, one; Pirrak.”
“That’s his job, isn’t it? Looking after you neophytes.”
“S’pose.”
“How low is the water?”
“Not enough to get us where we’re going, he says.”
“All right. I’ll talk to Stryke about it.”
“You will?”
“Sure.”
Wheam broke out in a grin. “Thanks, Coilla. I was hoping you’d say that.”
“I figured. Now lose yourself while I sort it.”
He went off with a lighter step.
She looked to Pepperdyne. “Where’s the map?”
He hauled it out of a pocket and handed it to her. “Think you can get Stryke to wear a stopover?”
“Sounds like we’ve no choice.”
“Rather you than me.”
“He’ll see the sense of it.”
“In his present mood?”
“Leave it to me.” She unfolded the map. “Where are we?”
He leaned over for a look, then pointed. “Around there.”
“So the nearest place to stop would be… here?” She jabbed at a string of islands, two quite large.
Pepperdyne nodded. “They seem as good as any. Assuming they have water, of course.”
“How far are they?”
“Half a day. Less with a favourable wind.”
“Right.” She waved the map under his nose as she left. “I’ll bring this back.”
“Good luck,” he muttered.
Coilla was aware of the band’s eyes on her as she made her way to the prow.
Stryke must have heard her approaching, but he didn’t turn or speak.
“Stryke?” she said, then more firmly, “ Stryke.”
“Come to tongue-lash me about those prisoners?”
“No. That’s done.”
“What, then?”
“Something you need to know, and act on.”
He turned to face her, and she saw that he looked haggard. “What is it?”
Coilla drew a breath. “There’s been a screw-up on the rations.”
“What?”
“We left in such a rush-”
“We can do without food for a couple of days.”
“Sure. But it’s the water.”
“Shit.” His features darkened further. “Whoever’s responsible should get a whipping for this.”
“Give it to yourself.”
“That’s close to insolence, Corporal.”
“Maybe. But it’s closer to truth. If we made a mess over the provisions it’s because you were driving the band too hard.”
“I’d drive it to its bloodied knees when I’m trying to find Thirzarr.”
“When we’re finding Thirzarr. You seem to have lost sight of what we are. We’re the Wolverines. We look out for our own. But we won’t get a chance to do that if we die of thirst.”
Stryke mulled over her words. At length he said, “Where do we get water?”
She showed him the map. “We’re here. The nearest islands are these.”
“When would we get there?”
“Jode reckons not long after noon.”
“Suppose we rationed the water.”
“Dallog wouldn’t have raised the alarm on this if he thought that’d work. I know you’re frantic about Thirzarr, Stryke, and any delay’s a pisser, but we’ve no option.”
Again he weighed things up. “Do it. But I don’t want to spend any more time there than we have to.”
“Got you.” She jogged back towards the wheelhouse.
They altered course immediately. The winds stayed friendly, even increasing by a few knots, and they made good time. Not long after the sun passed its zenith they spotted one of the necklace of islands. It was tiny, little more than a rock jutting out of the ocean, and they passed it by. The next two or three were about the same. When they reached the first of the bigger islands it proved almost as barren, and in any event there was nowhere to land, unless they wanted to climb sheer cliffs. A couple more minor islands came into view, and true to form they were tediously small and desolate. Everyone on board started to worry. Stryke paced ominously.
The second large island was a different proposition. Even from a distance they could tell it was verdant, so Pepperdyne steered the ship towards it. Stryke ordered the ship to circle the island, and they found that it, too, was protected by tall cliffs. But not on every side. There was a long stretch of beach, its fine, almost white sand stroked by gentle, foam-topped breakers. The beach stretched to a dense, sun-dappled jungle. Stryke had Pepperdyne take them in.
They dropped anchor as near to the shore as they could. The three boats their stolen goblin ship carried were unlashed and lowered. Stryke decided on leaving just a skeleton watch and taking most of the band as the landing party. He wanted a quick excursion, and the more hands the better. Standeven was one of those left on board, to his and everyone else’s relief, and the rest of the watch were told to keep an eye on him.
Before setting out, Stryke told Haskeer to hail the island.
“Why warn ’em?”
“Because we’ve come peaceably. If anything lives here I want them to know that.”
“Our ship’s done a pretty good job of announcing us anyway,” Jup said.
“I still want to make ourselves known,” Stryke insisted. “Do it, Haskeer.”
“Why me?”
“You’ve got the biggest mouth,” Jup told him.
Haskeer glared at him, then cupped his hands and bellowed.
Stryke got him to repeat several times. There was no response.
“We saw no signs of habitation, and there are no ships. It’s got to be deserted,” Jup argued.
“Probably,” Stryke agreed. “But we won’t take any chances. There’ll be three search parties. Haskeer, you lead one; and you, Jup. I’ll take the third. We’ll decide the groups once we hit the beach. Now move.”
They swarmed over the side and filled the boats.
The trip was brief, and soon they were splashing ashore through the shallow, crystal-clear water, colourful fish darting from their path. On the beach, Stryke addressed them.
“Our only job is to fill those.” He pointed at the heap of canteens and cow-gut sacs they’d brought. “You know what to do; look for natural springs or anywhere that might catch rainwater. And hurry. I don’t want us lingering here or-”
Jup was signalling him with one hand and pressing a finger to his lips with the other. He pointed at the jungle. The whole band quietened and looked that way.
They stood in silence for some time, scanning the greenery. It got to the point where they began to think it was a false alarm. Then there was movement in the foliage. Restricted to just one or two places, making it unlikely to be the wind, it was accompanied by a rustling and the snap of dry twigs.
In the undergrowth there was the briefest flash of what appeared to be a pair of vividly red eyes.
