together, they could do little more than squirm as the Sharkers rose against them in unison, cutting and disabling them, and trying to keep clear of the grabbing, thrusting faceless creatures who'd already been cut down to the deck and were now crawling about underfoot like white, glistening dew worms.
Then a ringing voice made them all turn their heads.
'Great Umberlee, hear me! Great Queen of the Sea, heed this fervent supplication! Too long have we forsaken your true way, in our times far from the sea! Yet we return, and can never forget you! You, who rule all the watery face of Faerfin, and keep more secrets than any other! You, who quell storms and raise them with but a thought! You, whose greatness we cannot hope to comprehend! Yet we cry unto you in our time of need, and make what humble offerings we can! Take, now, all the gold this ship carries, every last piece of it-and all the glistering gems, too! More than the weight of a man-yours, if you but take back your faithful guardians, to rest once more upon the bottom and await other intruders! Hear me, Great Umberlee! Accept now this offering, I pray!'
It was Belmer, splashing himself with seawater all the while he spoke, and waving a green stone hammer whose sculpted head was split into two curling waves. At his final words he brought the hammer down hard on a sea chest, shattering it, and hurled the pieces over the side of the ship. Then he hefted the chest- though it was almost as large as he was-without apparent effort, and hurled it into the sea.
Water fountained up in a mighty crash-more than such a weight should have disturbed-and the Sharkers traded looks. All the gold aboard? Had he emptied their pockets and carry-chests, too?
Well, not their pockets, they soon made sure, slapping at purses and coin belts as they backed away from the suddenly shuddering zombies. The sea had grown suddenly still, and a strange, deep singing was coming from beneath the ship, rising all around them.
Belmer's prayer, it seemed, had been heard. The little man was bent over the rail now, chanting the name of the goddess of the sea over and over, in a ceaseless drone that rose and fell like the passing waves.
Abruptly the zombies turned away from the living pirates and surged back toward their own ship, heedless of how many of them were crowded aside into the sea as they swarmed back up the bowsprit of the ghost ship.
A taut rope hummed and then broke, writhing across the decks of the Morning Bird. The forespar of the dripping ship of the deeps was moving again, backing out of the tangle it had created by ploughing into the rigging. The zombies moved more quickly now, withdrawing with little of the stiffness and awkwardness of their first waterlogged movements. Their eerie ship seemed to draw them with it, receding into the roiling mists.
It was sinking as it went, sliding back into the embrace of the waters that had held it for long years. As the Sharkers watched in awe and grim fear, wild bub-blings began around the vanishing hull, and the drab sponges and waterweeds on its decks submerged again.
'Sweeps!' Belmer snapped, breaking the somber, fascinated mood of the watching pirates. 'Sharkers, man the sweeps! I need this ship held back from that wreck! ItH suck as it goes down and could scrape us open! Mover
Kurthe looked sullen, and set down his sailpole slowly, but his companions hastened. The danger was real, and a master was spitting orders.
With an almost human groan, the ghost ship slid entirely under the mist-cloaked water and was gone. Its descent drew the Morning Bird toward it, and the Sharkers put in some anxious, sweating moments of rowing with the giant sweeps to keep clear of the faceless white heads of the last, stolid zombies, and the broken-off mast spars between them.
At the rail Belmer straightened, but it seemed Umberlee was not done with them quite yet. A wave rose from the calm sea with easy grace and swept across the decks like a long tongue reaching in across a sand beach. It washed away every last rust-flaked hilt and zombie finger, leaving behind a single shell as large as a man's fist.
Belmer strode toward this sea prize, but Kurthe, seeing his interest, snatched it up and put it to his ear.
The endless roar and crash of distant waves upon rocks seemed to echo faintly through his head, and then gave birth to a breathy voice. 'Trust not what you see,' it said, and then fell silent. Kurthe lifted his head to see Belmer standing over him with hand outstretched for the shell. He gave his employer a black look.
'Give,' Belmer said simply, his face expressionless.
After a long, silent moment, Kurthe slapped the shell into the little man's palm, rose, and stalked away without looking back.
Belmer swept the shell swiftly to his ear, listened for a long, motionless moment, and then drew the shell slowly down again as he stared at Kurthe's retreating back. 'Rings,' he asked gently, without turning his head, 'would you be so good as to bring Kurthe down to the cabin you share, as soon as it's convenient?'
The dwarf gave their employer a frowning look, and then trundled off in the Konigheimer's wake with a muttered 'Aye.'
'Is this… going to be a meeting between you two that we should know more about?' Anvil asked casually, his tone not quite menacing.
Belmer turned his head and gave them all a mirthless smile. 'No. It's a meeting between us all that I should have held earlier. Some things need to be said-and overheard by the right ears.'
Ignoring the puzzled looks of the Sharkers, the fat little man indicated the nearest companionway leading below, and asked politely, 'Shall we?'
'The mists are clearing,' Brindra said suddenly. 'Shouldn't we be worried about the black ship coming to call again?'
'Not if we move quickly,' Belmer replied, and swept past her to bound down the worn stairs. Exchanging glances, the Sharkers followed. What was the little man up to this time?
Their cabin was as they had left it-clothes hung, draped, or wadded up here and there, the chest that had held their weapons standing open in the center of the floor, the lamps out. Belmer lit one with a striker and waved at Belgin to use it to light the others.
As the Sharkers shuffled to their bunks, their employer leaned against the central pillar, arms crossed and one boot planted atop the empty chest. Kurthe shouldered down the other stairs, froze for a moment when he saw the assembly, and then went to his bunk, ignoring Belmer. Rings gave them all a cheery wave and followed suit.
'What's this all about?' Sharessa asked, before Belmer could begin.
He gave her a little smile and replied, 'I've heard talk about who I may be, and what the mission I've hired you for might turn out to be. Both of those things are my own business, but I'm prepared to swear to you now-by the names of whatever gods you hold dear, and if need be as an addendum to our contract-that I never met Blackfingers Ralingor.'
He looked around at them all, and went on. 'I knew the man only by reputation, never had dealings with him or suffered losses from his activities, and I have never had any part of his fabled treasure. I am not seeking his treasure now. Nor do I have anything of his, nor the man himself nor any shipmate of his save those of us openly gathered here, on this ship or in any place that I know of. Our trip does not concern the late Ralingor, and anyone searching this ship for his wealth is going to be disappointed. There is not a copper bit of it here.'
Belmer looked around the room, meeting the eyes of each Sharker in turn. 'I have no interest in hunting down spies among you, nor in listening to whispers as each of you tries to decide how many of the words I've just spoken were lies. So I propose that we all drink some wine-of your choice, from the cabin beside my own-with more of what I gave you earlier dissolved in it. This much extra of it will release you to sleep nor mally, not keep you wakeful as it has been doing-but it will make all of us loose-tongued and entirely truthful in what we do say. Ask me, after we drink, about all I have said, and what you hear shall be the truth; test it on yourselves first if you doubt me in this.'
'Bah-you could be immune to this stuff,' Kurthe growled.
Belmer turned his head to look at the moon-faced man from Edenvale. 'Belgin? Tell him.'
'If he is,' the sharper told them all, 'he's the only man living who's learned how… and I've heard quite a few folk in Thay have tried to become so, by consuming much of the powder for years. They've all failed.'
Brindra was on her feet 'Lead me to the bottles. Fve always wanted to choose some really good, expensive wine, and have a handsome man serve it to me.'
'Why, thank you, old barrel,' Rings said airily. 'I'd be-'
'I was referring,' she growled, giving him a wintry look, 'to Master Belmer.'
The little man was looking at the ceiling. He sighed theatrically, and murmured, 'Hundreds of pirates in Tharkar, and I had to hire these
