a hard look. 'Forget any idea you might have about taking it out on these kids for aiding us. Or we'll bring wrath down upon your head.'
'Have we done chin-wagging?' Jup pleaded. ' 'Cos while we're standing here flapping our tongues there's no saying what Spurral's going through.'
16
Spurral had been knocked cold by the blows she took on the beach. When she came to, in the rowing boat, the island was just a speck in the distance, recognisable only from the columns of smoke curling from its pair of active volcanoes.
There were five humans in the boat: four rowing, one at the helm. Three dwarfs, apart from herself, were aboard, lying on the boat's deck. Two male, one female, all young. Like hers, their hands were tied. The humans said nothing, contenting themselves with scowling at their captives from time to time and raising a sweat at the oars. When Spurral tried to speak to them they told her in coarse terms to shut up.
They were hardy, weather-beaten men, with skin the colour of old hide from a life under the merciless sun. Most were bearded, and several bore scars. Their clothing suited the needs of fighting and seagoing.
Cautiously lifting her head, Spurral looked over the rail. She saw that their boat was one of dozens of identical craft heading in the same direction, and she guessed the others held dwarf captives too. The boats were making for a large triple-masted ship whose sails were being run up as the boats approached.
When they reached the ship it towered over them like a cliff face, making the rowboats toys by comparison. Rope ladders dangled from its side. Spurral and the others had their bonds cut, amid threats against misbehaviour, so they could climb them. The ascent was precarious, and as she made her way up she could hear the ship's timbers creaking and the waves lapping against its hull.
On deck, they were herded together facing the bridge. Spurral estimated there were forty or fifty dwarfs present. The humans numbered about the same, and most of them set to hauling aboard the boats for stowing, or making them fast to be towed. Nine or ten men kept an eye on the dwarfs. Not that they were troublesome. They were browbeaten, and some of the females were weeping. And apart from the occasional whispered exchange, they were silent.
A man appeared on the bridge. He was younger than the majority of the crew, surprisingly so for someone Spurral took to be their skipper. His face was hairless; his head was a mane of black curls. There was something about the way he looked and moved that was almost sensuous, calling to mind a predatory feline eyeing its next meal. Of his robustness there was no doubt, and even from a distance he radiated a vitality that spoke of harsh command.
He rapped loudly on the bridge's balustrade with the hilt of his richly embellished sword. There was no real need. He already had their attention.
'I am Captain Salloss Vant,' he announced in a strong, carrying voice. 'It's normal for the master of a vessel to welcome guests aboard. But I've a feeling you'd find it hard to take my words to your hearts.' The crew laughed. He smiled at his quip, then turned stern. 'But take this as holy writ. If you have any other gods, forget them. I am your deity now.'
Spurral was aware of dwarfs giving her furtive glances. She began to regret the band's letting them believe something so fanciful.
'As far as you're concerned,' Vant went on, 'I am the god of this vessel for as long as you're on it, and my word is your only law. And have no doubts that lawbreakers will feel a wrath that only a god can bring about.' His expression slid to ersatz amiability. He spread his hands in a gesture of reasonableness. 'We are Gatherers. You are the gathered. Accept your fate and allow us to fashion ours. And don't look so glum! Your new lives as servants, oarsmen, menials and the like will no doubt bring you great satisfaction.' The crew laughed again. 'A pleasure you can begin practising for straightaway,' he continued, the mask going back to severe. 'There are no passengers on this ship. You will work.'
With no further word he turned his back on them and strode away.
'That's one god I can't wait to see fall,' Spurral said, just loud enough for those nearest to hear.
Twilight on the island brought cool breezes, along with a reminder that time was getting on.
The pair of boats the elder surrendered were quite large. Big enough between them to take the whole warband and their provisions, with a little room to spare. They were essentially oversized rowing boats or undersized galleys, depending on how it was looked at. Both were fitted out for between eight and ten rowers. In addition each had a short mast to add the power of a sail. The rudders were a mighty affair, and could need two pairs of hands in rough weather. There were no covered areas on the boats, but lockers had been built in.
They needed most work on their hulls, which were unfinished, and both craft lay keel-up, with the band swarming about them. Wood was shaped, twine woven, tar boiled. Hammering, sawing and chiselling filled the air. Supplies were being gathered for the voyage: water, and such food as they thought might keep.
True to their elder's word, the dwarfs didn't assist. But many looked on, some in open curiosity, a few disapproving. The three children, Grunnsa, Heeg and Retlarg, were the band's shadows, though even they were wary of being seen to actually help.
Under the pressure, from time and Jup's growing unease, tempers were wearing thin. As Pepperdyne, the only one with any real experience of seamanship, was effectively in charge of getting the ships ready, he was the lightning rod.
'Can't you get them to work any faster?' Jup demanded.
'They're performing miracles as it is,' Pepperdyne assured him. 'Be patient.'
'That's easy for you to say. Your woman's not out there somewhere, suffering the gods know what.'
'Trust us, Jup. We want Spurral back as badly as you do.'
'I doubt that!' He checked himself, and relented. 'Sorry. I know you're doing your best.'
'And we'll keep on doing it.'
'It's funny. I never thought I'd be making common cause with a human, let alone over something as important as this. No disrespect.'
'None taken. Life has its little ironies, doesn't it?'
'Never thought I'd be bossed again by a human either,' Haskeer muttered darkly as he worked nearby.
'Jode's not bossing us,' Jup told him. 'He's helping.'
'Oh, so it's Jode now, is it? That's what Coilla calls him. Seems to me some in this band are getting a bit too pally with his kind.'
'Jode happens to be his name. And I reckon he's earned his part in this.'
'You know where putting your trust in humans gets us. Or is your memory as short as your legs?'
'I've not forgotten. But when somebody proves their worth — '
'Know what humans are worth? This much.' He spat.
'Nobody's saying you have to like me, or my kind,' Pepperdyne said. 'Or that I should have any great regard for you. None of that matters. Fact is, we need to work together.'
'It might not matter to you — '
'For fuck's sake, Haskeer,' Jup butted in, growing incensed. 'Won't you rest it? This isn't about you. It's about finding Spurral.'
'Yeah. Right.'
'What's that supposed to mean?'
'All this fuss for a mate.'
'What?'
'They come along regular as whores. You can always get another one.'
' You bastard! ' the dwarf exploded, leaping forward.
He delivered a couple of low punches in quick succession and, while Haskeer was still reeling, seized him by the throat. Haskeer hit back with a vicious kicking at the dwarf's legs.
Then Stryke and Dallog were there, grabbing Haskeer from behind. Pepperdyne did the same to Jup, and the pair were pulled apart.
