Clash of the Sky Galleons (10 page)

Quint gulped. It was none other than the High Leaguesmaster of Undertown, Ruptus Pentephraxis, himself, the highest of the high-hats - even though, on
this occasion at least, his head was bare. Quint shook his head unhappily. He knew that Ruptus and Wind Jackal had a history of violence and enmity between them that went back for years.

Beside the High Leaguesmaster, his companion tapped his long elegant leagues-cane impatiently. Small where Ruptus was large, thin and puny where Ruptus was huge and strong, his pinched face was swarthy, with piercing green eyes and black side-whiskers which had been waxed into sharp points. He was wearing long flowing robes with a high, jagged collar, and had metal spikes at the end of each of his thin bony fingers which glinted menacingly in the sunlight.

Finger-spikes, Quint knew, were favoured more highly than rings by certain leaguesmasters, and these especially ornate points, glinting in the sunlight, could belong to only one person.

Imbix Hoth was his name.

For years Master of the League of Rock Merchants, he had recently also been appointed High Master of the entire Leagues of Flight - although there was some debate as to
how
this had happened. What was not in question was the fact that in Undertown he was now second in importance only to the High Leaguesmaster himself. Imbix Hoth controlled the trade in flight-rocks. Without his co-operation, no sky-shipyard could survive for long. Behind him stood a weedy, lop-eared goblin gripping a long, forked hat-pole, with which he supported his master’s extremely tall four-pronged hat.

The two high-hat leaguesmasters strode past Quint and
Maris, treating them as if they didn’t exist, before stopping at the chiselled entrance to the yardmaster’s tower. Behind them, the lop-eared goblin delicately prodded his master’s hat, which swayed slightly, and then winked over his shoulder at Quint and Maris. Ruptus Pentephraxis pounded at the tower door with one immense fist, and the startled face of Hummer the clerk appeared.

Tell your master that the High Leaguesmaster is here, and that I’ve brought someone who can solve that little problem we’ve been having.’

‘Yes, sir, right away, sir.
Do
come in, sir,’ grovelled the clerk.

The two leaguesmasters entered, the lop-eared goblin tipping off Imbix Hoth’s high hat just in time, and catching it in one hand as he followed them inside.

‘High-hats and their hat-tippers!’ said an amused-sounding voice. ‘Don’t you just love them?’

‘Excuse me?’ said Maris. ‘I … Oh!’ she smiled. ‘It’s you!’

Thaw Daggerslash stood before them, smiling broadly his hands on his hips. ‘It is indeed,’ he said. ‘Mistress Maris Pallitax,’ he said, extending a hand in greeting. ‘It’s so good to see you again.’

Maris smiled and held out her own hand, which Thaw took and turned over, before planting a light kiss on the back of it. Maris blushed furiously, which made the young sky pirate smile even more broadly. He was wearing a shabby stained apron and torn canvas trousers rather than his splendid embroidered frock coat, and his fair hair was messy, with flecks of sawdust and woodchips in it.

‘And Master Quint,’ said Thaw, turning his disarming smile on him and clapping him warmly on the back. ‘Excellent to see you again, too, my young friend.’ He frowned. ‘What brings you here?’

‘The
Galerider
is being repaired,’ Quint explained.

‘Is it now?’ said Thaw. ‘Little wonder, after the battering she must have taken out there at the cliff edge.’

‘You heard about that?’ said Quint.

‘The sky-shipyards are abuzz with talk of it,’ Thaw replied, his face suddenly concerned. ‘Whatever possessed your father to sail there?’

This time it was Quint who blushed, but Maris was quick to come to his rescue.

‘And you, Captain Daggerslash,’ she said sweetly. ‘What brings
you
here?’

‘Me?’ said Thaw, with an embarrassed laugh, smoothing
down his apron and shaking the sawdust from his hair. ‘I have come to take possession of a beautiful sky vessel of my very own. One that, due to a temporary shortage of funds, I’ve had to repair largely by myself!’

Thaw put two fingers to his lips and gave a short, piercing whistle. The next moment, a small and rather battered sky barge appeared from behind one of the sky-ship cages and slowly descended towards them, the port-side bow markedly lower than the starboard. As it drew closer, a shaggy-haired albino banderbear - little more than a cub by the look of him - peered down.

‘Wuh-wuh!’ he grunted, straightening up, and let a long rope uncurl from the side.

Thaw saluted theatrically. ‘As you see,’ he laughed, ‘the
Mireraider
is a real beauty! And my crew - all one of him - awaits.’

He grabbed hold of the rope and pulled himself up on board.

‘Farewell, Maris. Farewell, Quint,’ he shouted back as the sky barge rose again. ‘We’re off to seek our fortune as wreck-raiders. Wish us luck!’

‘Good luck!’ Maris shouted after him.

As the tiny craft disappeared behind the rooftops, Quint turned to Maris. ‘He’s going to need all the
luck he can get,’ he said. ‘Wreck-raiding is just about the most dangerous thing any sky pirate can undertake.’

‘It is?’ said Maris, shaking her head. ‘But he seemed so light-hearted and happy …’

‘And brave,’ said Quint. ‘A true sky pirate captain!’

‘Talking of true sky pirate captains,’ said Maris, with a little smile, ‘here comes your father.’

Quint looked across, to see Wind Jackal emerging from the tower. He looked serious, but by no means as grim and troubled as Quint had feared. As Hummer scurried out behind him, Wind Jackal turned to the clerk and shook him by the hand.

‘Tell the yardmaster we have a deal,’ he said. ‘I’ll send my quartermaster round to sort out the details.’

Hummer nodded and returned inside.

‘A deal, Father?’ Quint asked tentatively.

‘Aye, Quint, lad,’ said his father, a relieved look on his face. ‘Full repairs and refitting of the
Galerider
in return for a voyage to the Deepwoods for a consignment of bloodoak timber.’

‘That’s wonderful, Father,’ said Quint, relieved to hear that Wind Jackal had returned to his sky pirate trade, rather than tormenting himself with thoughts of revenge. ‘And when are we setting sail?’

‘Tomorrow morning,’ he said. ‘Just as soon as … Sky above!’ he exclaimed, as a ratbird flew in and landed on his shoulder. ‘Hello, boy!’ he said. ‘I recognize
you
well enough!’

‘Nibblick!’ Quint exclaimed at the sight of his pet. ‘I’ve been wondering where you’d got to. I was afraid we’d lost you to those cliff storms.’

The little creature chirruped and squeaked and, with a flutter of its wings, flew across from Wind Jackal’s shoulder to Quint’s outstretched finger.

‘Look,’ said Maris, ‘I think he’s got a message.’

‘He can’t have …’ Quint frowned and looked more closely. Sure enough, sticking out of the little capsule strapped to the ratbird’s leg, was a corner of paper. He unscrewed the top and pulled out the message.

‘What does it say?’ asked Wind Jackal.

‘… Oh, nothing,’ said Quint, shakily.

‘Let me see,’ said Wind Jackal.

‘Really, it’s nothing,’ said Quint. ‘It’s …’

‘Then let me see.’

Reluctantly, Quint handed over the message. His father read it out loud, his voice taking on the same cold, vengeful edge as it had had the night before. Bloodoak consignment or no bloodoak consignment, he knew that Wind Jackal would be unable to ignore the mysterious message the ratbird had brought him.

If you wish to find the one you seek, meet me in the Sluice Tower at midnight.

A well-wisher.

• CHAPTER FIVE •
THE WAIF ASSASSIN

Quint’s finger traced idly round the letters carved into the table-top. F … O … The tip of his index finger circled it once, twice, before moving on. X. He sighed.

‘Rain Fox,’ he murmured, and wondered who he could have been, this long forgotten sky pirate captain who had carved his name on the tavern table. Had he been rich and successful, with a magnificent sky ship and a loyal crew? Or, Quint mused darkly, had he been like most sky pirate captains - short of money, unsure of his crew, harassed, careworn, and continually looking over his shoulder. Probably he’d ended up being ‘festooned’ - left at the top of a Deepwoods tree by a mutinous crew, and replaced by a younger, more ambitious captain.

Who knows? All that remained of Captain Rain Fox now was a series of deep scratches in the surface of the scrubbed lufwood.

Quint stared down at the ancient carving, just one of
hundreds that covered the tables in the Tarry Vine tavern. Across from him, where Maris sat dozing fitfully, was Quint’s father’s name -
Wind Jackal -
carved in elegant letters with a curling flourish beneath it. How different from most sky pirate captains his father had always seemed: cheerful, calm and determined, his emotions under control and his actions well thought out and decisive.

How he had come to admire and depend upon his father’s judgement, Quint thought with a sad smile. It made it all the more disturbing and worrying to see how this search for Turbot Smeal had consumed him with hatred and blinded him to dangers that the great Captain Wind Jackal, who had once carved his own name on this lufwood table, would never have ignored.

And now this new message, as mysterious as the others, had arrived just as things looked as if they might be getting back to normal. Quint looked down at his lap, where the tiny body of his ratbird lay, stiff and lifeless. He stroked the soft fur between Nibblick’s tufted ears, and tears filled his eyes. The ratbird had died in the sky-shipyard within minutes of delivering its message, from the same slow-acting poison that had killed the first one his father received. It was a common way for gossips and schemers to cover their tracks. ‘Messages of no return’ they were called - but that didn’t make it any easier to bear.

Quint slammed his fist down on the table. ‘Damn you, Smeal!’ he snarled.

Maris woke with a start. ‘You’re beginning to sound
like your father,’ she said with a yawn as she stretched her arms. ‘Speaking of whom, has he come back yet?’