01-335-Crater Sea

  The horizon was pitch black over the Crater Sea as a dark ship rode through the brackish coastal waters, heading towards the hidden harbour in Redsands. A woman in her early twenties crossed the blood-soaked deck with silent steps, trampled on the dead captain’s fingers, cursed softly, and reached the helm, where she stopped to glare at the Bird, who sat cross-legged, staring at the sea.

  The man was covered in other people’s blood, and he sat motionless like a grotesque figurehead, his head held high, and craddling a bottle at his chest as if it were a holy symbol. Waves had thrown droplets at his face and bald head, washing the blood into runny lines. It looked like he was some striped predator, or had cried red tears, and both images fitted into Jonathan’s current state of mind.

  Jadea sighed and pushed her shiny, dark brown curls away from her face. Wind made her wide trousers flap. “Bird? Hey man, we need to talk.”

  Bird raised the bottle and sipped the strong alcohol, keeping his pale eyes on the sea. The salty water didn’t judge his deeds like Jad was going to do, but the cold, indifferent waves curved in dark shapes like Agiisha’s body. The dragon seemed to haunt him, wherever he went, its memory reminding him of everything he tried forget.

  “I should have killed when I had the chance,” Jonathan whispered, thinking of Jenet of Ardara, the memory he had let loose. He still carried the ring, its weight heavy with guilt.

  “I assure you that there was enough death to drive the point home,” Jadea said dryly, not looking at the deceased, for that would have invoked bad luck on a night like this.

  “There will be more.” Jonathan didn’t really listen to Jadea. Jenet was a memory of murder; it had said it was looking for his father. Jonathan knew he should have warned Ikanji, but he couldn’t force himself to confess to the incident. Besides, Ikanji could handle Jenet, or so Jonathan told himself.

  “Captain Stobenheim was a slimy, double-dealing slug, and he deserved to die,” Jadea said, reaching to touch a clean spot on Bird’s shoulder.

  The man felt the warmth and weight of her hand, but he stared stubbornly forward. Alcohol almost covered the taste of blood in his mouth. Blood and betrayal, that was his life story. He waited for the inevitable “but”, knowing that Jadea was going to give him an earful.

  “But you could have given him over to Viper, alive. You almost got us killed with that idiot attack.” Jadea knew the Bird was not going to comment, but she also knew he listened. He always listened. “I know that it has been a difficult year, but it will get better. Maybe if you cut drinking a little and…”

  She rambled on about how he should change. Jonathan let her speak, knowing that she was right. Jad had gathered her wisdom as a kid who had been raised in bar backstages. It was mongrel knowledge built from various, mismatching sources, but Jad had razor-sharp instincts, and her words cut to the bone.

  Jadea didn’t know about the gnawing guilt that filled Jonathan’s days and the nightmares that filled his nights. Shedded blood and drunken wine kept the thoughts away. “I know what I am doing,” Jonathan said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

  “You are getting into an early grave.”

  “You say it like it is a bad thing.”

  “You are being unreasonable, again. Maybe it is this time, it is the Endnight and all the spirits are restless.” Jad looked at the sky, where a few stars peered through the clouds.

  “Yeah, yeah. I know that you wanted to go to that party. No one forbade you; I would have taken care of Stobenheim alone.” Viper had sent Jonathan to deal with the suspected traitor, and one didn’t say no to the old snake. If not for this mission, he could have been comfortably drunk in a dry place where the wind didn’t try to rip his ears off, and females didn’t nag about his habits.

  “You need me, idiot. We’ll take a bar tour when we get back to Haven.” A wicked grin spread to Jadea’s lips as she continued. “But I would have laughed my ass off as some elderly Gizan lady had picked you as their partner. Your day after face is always priceless, that what in the names of Olds have I done-look. Last time you…”

  “Drop it. Everything would be in order if someone would stop being a snarky bitch.”

  “I stop bitching when you stop taking stupid risks and crawling into a bottle afterwards.” Jad’s eyes flashed with frustration; they had had this discussion too many times.

  “Maybe I wouldn’t need a bottle if I could, for once, get a kiss and a thank-you.”

  Jad sighed. “You know I don’t do older guys, or guys. You are my best friend forever, Bird, or maybe third-best, in the top five anyway, and I want to keep you alive. I just don’t fancy you enough to let you in my bed.”

  “A snarky bitch.” Jonathan commented dryly.

  “Itsy-bitsy Birdie is having a bad day.” Jad’s voice was mocking, but she kneaded his shoulder, the warmth in her palm anchoring him, like it always did. They were two loose balls, adrift in the wide world, and had crafted a friendship based on being bad influences on each other. Somehow, it helped them to keep sane.

  The night rushed past in crashing waves, and glimpsed stars. Jad’s presence soothed Jonathan. He didn’t want to burden her with his troubles, but he knew he did it anyway. He patted her hand apologetically, and she gave his shoulder one last squeeze.

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  Jonathan straightened his posture, trying to figure out their speed and direction. “Does Bossman know what he is doing? Docking into Redsands takes a steady hand.”

  Jad shrugged. “He is seventeen; he believes he can do anything.”

  “Seventeen?” Everybody seemed young to Jonathan these days. At seventeen, he had already killed his first man, so Bossman probably managed to steer one smuggling ship despite its oversized engines and the narrow waterway.

  The small island appeared from the darkness. They were approaching in the right course, sailing past the island and turning towards the hidden dock below the imposing rocky cliff. The ship slowed down, not enough to avoid a jerky contact with the dock, but enough that they didn’t destroy anything beyond repair as the ship touched the wooden platform.

  Bird clapped his hands and got up, still holding the bottle. “Excellent steering, Bossman! Only scratches to the paintwork! You can keep the ship.”

  “Thanks!” A young man jumped to the deck as the crew started securing the ship. He was a smuggler in the second generation. “I was afraid of bad luck, Endnight and all. It’s not good to sail a ship named the same as the deceased Captain’s girlfriend, when his spirit still lingers.”

  “Whatever.” The Southerners’ obsession with the rituals and beliefs was getting on Jonathan’s nerves. It was all fine and good to have theme parties, but the constant talk about ill omens was a nuisance.

  “Oh, that sounds too bad. You must have someone to cleanse the bad energies away, and the ship needs a new name,” Jad said. “This arrangement is like calling for bad luck.”

  “It’s a damned compilation of wood and metal, and its only speciality is floating. It doesn’t need cleansing; it is just a thing. Call it a ship.” Jonathan said.

  “That would be rude. She is our everything when we are on the sea. She deserves respect and a proper name,” Bossman said softly, patting the railing.

  Bird turned, looking at the people on the deck. He made a pose, turned the bottle over and poured the remaining alcohol onto the deck. “I name this glorified assembly of wood and metal. It is to be known as Her Shipness.” Jonathan grinned and threw the empty bottle into the sea. “See, all the bad influences are gone, and the ship has a name. Is everyone happy now?”

  “Her Shipness? At least it is an honorary,” Bossman said weakly.

  Jadea had the expression she used when she worked hard to prevent laughing out loud.

  Redsands ground crew had appeared on the docks, alerted by the guards on the hill. The slightly drunken people smelled of food, incense, and beer. The Endnight rituals had been celebrated even here. Nerya climbed on the deck, glancing at the crew and stopping to stare at the dead captain.

  “Captain Stobenheim was a traitor. He had been bleeding money into his own pockets,” Jadea said with the cool and indifferent tone she often used when dealing with the more dangerous criminals.

  “You were not scheduled to dock here,” Nerya said, shaking her short curls. Jonathan remembered her from Viper’s gang in Haven. “Who steered you?”

  Bossmann stepped forward. “I did. I’ve been here before. We need to check the cargo and burn the captain.”

  “I remember you, your father is a mechanic,” Nerya said. “Why didn’t you bury the traitor at sea?”

  Bossmann glanced at Jonathan, and Nerya noticed his presence. She walked closer, showing light on him. Jonathan noticed how her eyes narrowed when she noticed the blood. Bossman slipped into the cargo hold.

  “And you are?” Nerya wasn’t impressed.

  “Bird. You’ve heard about me.”

  Her sharp intake of breath told Jonathan that his fame had preceded him. He had avoided Redsands, as he didn’t want to risk meeting Anhava’s servants. It was only a distant outpost, but Jonathan had decided to give it a wide berth. On the other hand, Viper’s business had kept him busy.

  “The Bird?” Nerya asked, tilting her head and looking at him with a renewed interest.

  Jad walked to stand at Jonathan’s side. “The same man. He looks better after a bath.”

  Jonathan jabbed Jad with an elbow, but strictly speaking, she was again right. “That was my next plan.”

  Some of the Redsand’s crew backed away, muttering about food left to cool.

  “Bird? I thought you to be taller,” Nerya said, and continued with the Ainadu language. “Honoured to meet Viper’s personal demon. You live by your legacy, sailing in on the Endnight, covered in your enemy’s blood.”

  “Are you into helping me to wash it away?” Jonathan asked, winking at Jadea, who understood only a couple of words.

  Nerya grinned, touching his face, and Jonathan licked at her finger. He didn’t want to try to sleep alone tonight. Even demons were afraid of the dark.

  “Are you two a package deal?” Nerya asked.

  Jadea raised a questioning eyebrow at Jonathan, and Jonathan shook his head in denial. Before he could add a witty remark, he heard profound cursing from the cargo hold.

  Bossman appeared back on the deck and kicked the dead captain. “I’ll drop you to an overripe reef where maggots will lay their eggs on you!” He fumed when he turned to face Jonathan. “Guess what that son-of-a-behemoth had hidden among the goods?”

  Jonathan shrugged, and Bossman threw him a small package wrapped in waxed paper. He unwrapped it, revealing a hard bauble, like a pearly marble, that felt heavy and sticky in his hand.

  “What is this?” Jonathan asked, sniffing the bauble that carried a slightly sour aroma.

  “They call them the behemoth’s eye. They grow deeper in the crater, a natural deposit,” Bossman said.

  Jonathan winced. Natural meant that the thing was a product of Watergate’s original lifeform. The naturals were microbial, and slowly killed people when they got inside their bodies. Their products were mostly harmless: foam on the waves or slimy rings on the ship bottoms.

  “These used to be rare,” Bossman said.

  “Well, Viper has specialised in rare exports. What’s the problem?” Jad asked, observing the bauble in turn.

  “They are used to make an addictive drug. The deepwater reef divers use it, and they are crazy to begin with. It has no good use in cities.” Bossman shivered.

  “We can destroy the package. Was there a lot of it?” Jad said.

  “Not much, but more than I’ve ever seen. Someone must have managed to grow Behemoth’s eyes. Normally, it is gathered in the wild.” Bossman raised his leg to kick the dead man again, but desisted. “Viper would have had questions for him.”

  Viper Years (or maybe not) after the main storyline is done. It would be a separate volume that tells a subplot whose details are irrelevant to the main story.