Clash of the Sky Galleons (40 page)

Thaw laughed. ‘Ingenious!’ he said, and patted the gnokgoblin heartily on the back. ‘Duggin, old friend, with your skills, you could have a glittering future. You just need a captain who appreciates your talents.’

‘Appreciates them how, exactly?’ Duggin looked Thaw steadily in the eye.

‘By making you the present of his sky barge …’ Thaw smiled, holding out his hand. ‘After all, you deserve it for all the hard work you’ve put into the
Mireraider
.’

Smiling broadly, Duggin reached into his pocket, drew out his shryke tooth and dropped it into Thaw’s waiting hand.

‘It’s a deal,’ he said.

‘My dear Stone Pilot,’ said Thaw Daggerslash. ‘I am so, so sorry.’

Crossing the flight-rock platform, he had knocked into the Stone Pilot - sending the dropped crutch skittering
one way, and the Stone Pilot herself tumbling in the other. He quickly recovered the crutch, and stuck it under his arm, then turned to help the floundering Stone Pilot.

‘Allow me,’ he said, crouching down, pushing his arm under hers and helping her back to her feet. ‘No bones broken, I trust,’ he said, smiling winningly as he patted her down and pushed the crutch back into place. ‘No lasting harm?’

The Stone Pilot shook her head.

‘Well, thank Sky for small mercies,’ said Thaw, straightening her crutch and smoothing her robes into place. ‘I can be
so
clumsy sometimes … Still, so long as you’re all right.’

Behind the hood, the Stone Pilot nodded curtly, and returned to tending the flight-rock. Thaw Daggerslash turned and, whistling softly under his breath, continued across the flight-rock platform.

He was on the other side before he opened his clenched fist and inspected the contents of his hand. Then, glancing back at the Stone Pilot, engrossed over the cooling rods, he tossed something yellow and glinting over the side of the
sky ship, before sauntering off towards the infirmary-cabin, where he found Maris.

‘Oh, Thaw,’ gasped Maris, as he entered the small cabin. ‘You look awful. Is it your shoulder?’

Thaw smiled bravely and nodded. ‘If you wouldn’t mind taking a look,’ he said.

‘Of course not,’ she said. ‘Loosen your shirt, sit down and let me see.’

Thaw Daggerslash did as he was told. Maris used boiled water and wads of wood-cotton to clean the wound. Then, wincing with sympathy as she dabbed at the vicious sword cut with hyleberry salve, she proceeded to dress the wound.

‘It’s a deep cut,’ she said, ‘but it seems to be healing well.’

‘All thanks to these excellent treatments.’ Thaw smiled at Maris, his head cocked to one side. ‘And an even better nurse.’

Maris blushed.

‘You like Quint, don’t you?’ Thaw continued.

Maris nodded, blushing even harder.

‘And you want what’s best for him?’

Maris stopped and looked at Thaw. ‘Of course,’ she said.

‘Have you ever considered that becoming captain of the
Galerider
might not be what he wants?’

‘But Wind Jackal…’ Maris began.

‘Yes, yes,’ said Thaw, ‘but what about Quint’s academic career in Sanctaphrax? His hopes and dreams of completing his education in the Knights Academy and setting forth, as a fully-fledged knight academic, on a stormchasing journey to the Twilight Woods … Isn’t that what he
really
wants?’

‘Yes, but that was before …’

Thaw shrugged. ‘Perhaps I’m wrong. After all, you know him better than I, Maris.’ He frowned, his face a picture of concern. ‘But just imagine how resentful he will one day feel if the death of his father leads him into a future he does not want, while his true goal in life remains forever thwarted …’

As the sun slipped down towards the far horizon, the crew of the
Galerider
assembled on the aft-deck. The helm was secured and the rock-burners locked into position.

‘It is time to count the teeth,’ Spillins announced. ‘Thaw Daggerslash, how many do you have?’

The young captain reached into his pocket for the shryke teeth. ‘Two,’ he said, displaying them both for all to see.

‘Quint?’ said Spillins.

‘Also two,’ said Quint.

‘Which means that two teeth have still to be cast,’ said
Spillins. ‘Whoever wishes to cast their teeth must do so now, before the sun sets.’

The Stone Pilot reached into the folds of her heavy coat, looking first in one pocket, then in the other. Despite the conical hood she wore, her confusion was obvious as neither pocket revealed the shryke tooth. She looked again. And then a third time, before leaning forwards and seizing Quint by the arm.

It was clear she wished to vote for him.

But Spillins shook his head. ‘I’m sorry’ he said. ‘Tradition is tradition. If you cannot find your tooth, then I’m afraid it cannot count.’

The Stone Pilot hurried back to the flight-rock platform and searched it for the elusive shryke tooth. But all to no avail. Finally, she sat slumped at the foot of the mast, her conical hood drooping dejectedly.

On the aft-deck, Maris stepped forward. She was about to make her choice when she caught Thaw looking up at the flight-rock platform, a look of malevolent glee on his handsome face. He noticed her glance out of the corner of his eye and instantly composed his features into a look of polite concern. Spillins looked up at her with his deep, dark, worried-looking eyes, and instantly Maris knew what she had to do.

‘Quint,’ she said, turning away. ‘This is for you.’ And with those words, she placed the shryke tooth in his outstretched hand.

A momentary look of absolute devastation passed over Thaw Daggerslash’s face. The next instant, it was
gone, supplanted with an expression of brave disappointment.

‘Well done, Quint,’ he said, offering his hand to be shaken, ‘or should I say, Captain Cloud Wolf!’

He flashed them all a dazzling smile and strode from the deck. Spillins stared after him, his eyes wide with horror. The aura surrounding the young sky pirate was now a hideous boiling red.

No one saw Thaw Dagger-slash leave, but the following morning a disappointed Duggin reported to Captain Cloud Wolf that the
Mireraider
was no longer tethered beside his sky ferry.

Quint shook his head. ‘I was going to offer him a position as my quartermaster …’

‘I think it was captain or nothing for Thaw Daggerslash, judging by the look on his face,’ said Maris.

All at once, there came a cry that dispelled all thought of Thaw Daggerslash. Spillins, up in his caternest with his telescope trained ahead, had spotted a sight to gladden all their hearts.

‘Undertown!’ he shouted out, his voice strident and cracked. ‘Undertown ahead!’

The crew rushed from their posts to cluster at the balustrades on deck. And there it was, sprawled out beneath a grimy sky on the far side of the Mire - the great centre of commerce and industry: Undertown. A cheer went up, and Tem Barkwater lost his wide-brimmed hammelhorn felt hat as he tossed it into the air - only to have it snatched away by the wind.

The next moment, though, the atmosphere changed. Certainly it was Undertown that lay before them, but it was a very different Undertown from the one they had left all those long weeks before.

• CHAPTER NINETEEN •
CLASH OF THE SKY GALLEONS

In the great glass-domed chamber at the top of the magnificent Leagues Palace, Ruptus Pentephraxis, High Master of the United Leagues of Undertown Free Merchants, stared out across the rooftops. A pall of dark, swirling smoke hung over the city, cutting out the sunlight from above and casting everything below in ominous shadow. In places, the unnatural greyness was broken by pinpoints of dazzling light, glittering like marsh-gems in Mire mud, where great fires blazed.

‘The Sallowdrop inn, the Hammelhorn tavern, the Fromp, the Sky’s Rest and the most treacherous of them all, the Tarry Vine tavern…’ Ruptus growled in his deep, rasping voice, counting off the blazing buildings he could see, one by one. ‘Verminous nests of sky piracy cleansed! We have done well, my fellow leaguesmasters -putting aside our differences and acting together for once. But this great purge of sky piracy is not yet over …’

The High Master turned and, with his one good eye, glowered at the assembled high-hats seated around the huge circular leagues table. A massive figure, as tall as a banderbear, his mighty paunch encased in battle-dented armour and his shaven head criss-crossed with scars, Ruptus towered over his fellow leaguesmasters without the aid of his own hat - the highest of them all - which sat by his side.

‘Even as their Undertown dens burn, the sky pirates are setting sail for the Edgelands and their impregnable stronghold at Wilderness Lair where they’ll skulk, like storm-scattered ratbirds, until they judge it safe to return…’

All round the table, the high-hats nodded.

‘Just as they always do,’ muttered Padget Pyreglave, weasel-faced Master of the League of Rilkers and Renderers.

‘Same after every purge - and I’ve seen a few in my time,’ agreed the corpulent Renton Brankridge of the Wheelers and Wedgers, his chins wobbling.

‘Our leagues fleet is assembling in the boom-docks and is preparing to set sail in pursuit. Every league of Undertown has suspended commerce and contributed their finest vessels to our cause.’

‘But what’s the use, if they won’t come out of Wilderness Lair and fight?’ Padget Pyreglave’s whining voice broke in. ‘They know we can’t sail into the Edgelands after them. Our league ships aren’t built for it, and our leagues captains lack the skill…’

‘As we speak, the last sky pirate vessel has left for
Wilderness Lair,’ Ruptus continued, glaring at the weasel-faced leaguesmaster on the other side of the table with ill-disguised contempt. ‘Its young captain delivered a load of bloodoak timber to our colleague Thelvis Hollrig’s sky-shipyard, perhaps the most important cargo ever carried. Now he is hurrying back to his fellow sky pirates at Wilderness Lair with news of our leagues fleet.’

‘And you let him go?’ gasped Padget in disbelief.

‘Of course!’ roared Ruptus, raising his gauntleted fist. ‘We needed him to tell the others. The sky pirates won’t be able to resist! When they hear that our leagues fleet has set sail, they’ll come out to meet us in open battle, confident that, once again, they’ll scatter our ships and bloody our noses with their sleek sky ships and superior skysailing skills.’