The Archivist (8 page)

First, however, we need to get out of this town one casual step at a time.

“Really? That was your exit strategy?” I ask once we are well away from the chapel.

“Well, it fooled them, didn’t it?” she laughs. “Look, don’t get any funny ideas. I didn’t give Father Alendo your real name, so we aren’t actually married.”

“Good, we’re still just friends?”

“Absolutely, sworn friends,” Danae purrs as a Disciple walks into view. I guess they are not all at their service after all. She smiles as she grabs my hand. “It’s not like we’re going to sleep together or anything. This is just a cover for us to travel under.”

Well, that is good. Because if it were a real marriage, I would have to tell Danae that depending on how strictly you define the meaning, she just became a party to bigamy.

We manage to avoid any more Disciple patrols as we slip outside the town into the deepening twilight. The knot in my stomach eases, but does not completely unclench until I find the travois undisturbed where we left it.

I do not want to use my flashlight to create any shining beacons on top of the hill, so I work quickly in the remaining daylight to consolidate Danae’s few belongings into my pack. Grabbing the generator pack, I stack the fins and wires inside and then cram in as many other parts as I can.

Most of the chips and other parts, I have to leave wrapped in the vellum covering I used for the e-reader. Just inside the barn door, an abandoned tool rack yields a rusted shovel, which I use to dig a shallow trench.

I dig carefully with the weakened tool until the handle snaps apart, but the pit is deep enough by then to cover what I cannot bring with me. I pull a rusted anvil on top of the buried treasure to mark the spot, in case I ever come back for it.

Then we wait in the abandoned building, and I doze as much as I can. I am not risking a fire, so Danae and I huddle together for warmth. At least we are out of the wind, and thankfully she keeps her thoughts to herself, while mine are focused on how we are getting out of this new Disciple stronghold.

Finally I hear the distant toll of the midnight bell down in the town, and I stand up. I pull Danae to her feet, and she grimaces but doesn’t complain about the weight when I fit my pack onto her back and adjust the straps.

That backpack is really an extension of me, so it grates my nerves to let someone else carry it, but even at about fifty pounds, it is by far the lighter of the two.

I hoist the pack with the generator in it onto my shoulders, and the thin straps bite into my trapezius muscles. This one belonged to one of the thugs, and he did not invest in quality. It must weigh well over a hundred pounds, but I do not expect to carry it far.

This time, rather than walking straight into Port Sadelow, I lead Danae around the mostly fallow fields and skirt the outer edge of the town down to the river. Since we have spent the evening in the dark, our eyes are already adjusted to the clear, moonless night, and the bright trifecta of Saturn, Jupiter and Mars provides more than enough light to navigate across the countryside easily.

The calm night is peaceful, and aside from occasional distant barks from town, the only sound is the soft shuffling of our steps. Half a dozen deer watch warily from afar as we pass. When we near the bottom of the hill, I see the silhouette of someone patrolling the edge of town and take cover behind a low stone wall. I assume that anyone out here at this time of night is foe; the only friend I have within a hundred miles is crouching beside me.

Eventually we reach the riverbank and turn toward the docks. We start moving more cautiously when we reach the town waterfront, listening carefully and looking for any movement on the empty thoroughfares. By the time we are on Dock Street, we are moving from shadow to shadow.

Aside from the small fleet of fishing boats, I count four sea-going merchant vessels tied up along the wharves. Two of them are immaculately maintained, and clearly mastered by captains who run a tight ship. At any other time one of those would be my first choice, but not now. I need a captain who bends the rules.

Of the other two, one of them doesn’t look robust enough to make it down the river and out of the harbor, let alone venture out into coastal waters, so I decide to approach Lady of the Mist first.

I check one more time that the street is empty, pass my staff over to Danae, and tell her to stay where she is, in the shadows. Then I walk up the gangway. The crewman on watch sits slumped next to the foremast, dozing.

An Archivist retrieval is fifty percent social engineering, and this is my element. I stomp heavily near the top of the plank so that my footsteps rouse the watchman, and the sailor scrambles to meet me at the gunwale.

“What’re ya wantin’?” the man growls, and examines me suspiciously while he rubs sleep from his eyes.

“I would speak with your captain, immediately.”

The man laughs. “You’ll have to come back during the forenoon watch. If I were to wake him now, he’d run me through, less’n the ship was on fire.”

I slip a handful of coins out of my pocket. “I’d wager he’ll run you through when he finds out how much you cost him by not waking him right this minute.” The man stares at the glinting discs, and I hand him a silver one. “This is for just listening to me. Bring him back in five minutes and I’ll slip you this gold one when he’s not looking.”

The man snatches the silver coin and shifts from foot to foot, eyeing the gold piece I am holding out, and weighing whether to take his chances. Avarice wins out, and he hurries off. Stepping aboard, I lean against the rail and reflect on the eternal value of shiny metal. I never leave home without a pocketful.

Sure enough, not four minutes later, the sailor returns with a tall, gaunt, scowling man who I could swear is the reincarnation of Abraham Lincoln—without the hat, of course. Not that most people would know or care anymore who Lincoln was.

The ship’s master glares at me as he growls, “Just who the devil are you? And give me one reason why I shouldn’t throw you off my ship right now!”

I look the captain in the eye for several long moments. When I sense that I have kept him waiting just long enough to reach parity—and not a moment longer—I respond. “You can call me K’Marr, and I have a vested interest in leaving port before the sun rises. And I have quite a few reasons here in my pocket why you want to keep me aboard your ship.”

The captain narrows his eyes at me, and I can tell he is hooked.

“I’m Captain Hanford. Where would your interests be taking you? And why should I care to take you there?”

“If it’s all the same to you, Captain, I’d rather clarify our mutual interests in a less conspicuous spot.”

As I turn the ship’s master in the direction of the shadows behind the foredeck, I lay a gold coin on the rail behind me and step forward. In the event we do manage to book passage, the last thing I need is a crew member seeking retribution. We move into the shadows. From where we stand, I can keep an eye on the dark nook where Danae waits.

“I have an urgent matter to attend to in Entiak. The nature of my business is my own counsel and of no concern to any authority, either here or there. But I assure you that I have no design against any person or government, and my purpose is strictly personal.”

The captain weighs my words, then responds, “I care not why you need passage, just why I should give it to you. You wouldn’t be the first passenger I carried without questions, but know this: that I offer passage only. Should any warship take an interest in us I will neither run nor fight, and you will have to answer for yourself.”

“Fair enough, I ask for nothing more. However, we must leave within the next bell.”

The captain laughs. “Whether we make the run to Entiak in three days or three weeks won’t depend on which tide we catch. Your enterprise must rely upon the fortune of the wind.”

“Captain, you misunderstand. I do indeed have business in Entiak, but my need to depart immediately is not due to that. Rather, it’s because of my fellow passenger.”

Now that I am confident we will secure passage on this vessel, it is time to move to the endgame of our negotiations. Stepping over to the gunwale, I gesture for Danae to join us and she trots over to the gangplank, moving as quickly as the heavy pack will allow her.

The sailor helps Danae aboard, and the captain crosses his arms as she moves to my side.

“Captain Hanford, this is my wife, Danae. The reason we must leave without delay is that we married just a few hours ago.” The truth, even if it is just a façade, is generally the best story. I pause to let that sink in, and then add, “Let’s just say that when her father finds out he will be extremely surprised.” Danae snorts a laugh, and I jab her with my elbow.

The captain starts chuckling. “I have to admit, I did not expect this. But what the hell, as you say, that’s your business. The only thing is that I wasn’t planning to go to Entiak for another fortnight. Several other ports are eager for goods that I’m going to load in the morning.”

This one is going to cost me, I can tell. Retaining a few coins, I toss the rest of the purse to the captain. “This should cover our passage and justify changing your itinerary.”

The man weighs his hand and examines the coins, then nods. “Well, that will cover the where and the who of the matter. But I’m not eager to leave for Entiak without filling my empty hold. Why should I rouse my crew this very moment and slip out with the midnight tide?”

I expected this final round of negotiation. “I have something that will more than compensate you for any lost profit. After all, you’re not actually losing any cargo, and Entiak should be an easy run.”

I slip my hand in my pocket and pull out a small item I have carried with me for a few years, anticipating just such an occasion. One thing about most retrievals is that more often than not, I end up trading away as many items as I collect. The trick is to keep the ones that matter.

When I pull out my hand and show him the mariner’s watch, his eyes widen.

“Not only does it have a barometer, and sunrise/sunset times for the next fifty years, it was set to Greenwich Mean Time when the twenty-year power cell was installed a year ago.” He is both old enough and a seasoned enough sailor to know what GMT means.

“By the devil’s balls, you’re an Archivist!” the captain exclaims. “No one else could possibly have something like this.”

“What I am must never be mentioned again. By either of you,” I say as I glance at the crewman as well. I do not contradict the captain; there is no point. Instead, I get to the point that does matter. “Any cabin boy can figure out a ship’s latitude with a sextant and a clear sky. But this thing even has built-in star tables to determine longitude. As long as you have a clear sky, you will always know exactly where you are.”

Captain Hanford licks his lips. Then, without taking his eyes off the timepiece, he grabs his crewman by the arm. “Go rouse the crew. Tell them that if we haven’t cast off before the next bell, they’ll be having lashes for breakfast. And mind you, they are to be quiet as ship rats.”

Taking the watch, the captain says, “I’ll personally show you to your honeymoon suite.”

The cabin Hanford takes us to sits adjacent to his own, and he gives his first officer thirty seconds to clear out with his belongings. The half-naked man does it in under twenty-five.

I have to duck my head to enter. I have been in prison cells which were larger. The room is just wide enough to stretch my arms to each side and touch the walls, and about twice as deep. But it has a fold-down desk beneath a porthole in the hull, and along one wall is a small bed. Above the bed swings a hammock which the previous occupant must have used for storage.

After lighting a candle lamp on gimbals for us, the captain excuses himself, saying he has a ship to get underway, and closes the door.

With a sigh of relief, Danae slips her pack off and slides it under the bed. Wordlessly, she climbs into the bed and underneath the blankets, and within seconds, my friend has pulled off her shoes, shirt and pants, and drops them to the deck. Her dark-red hair splays across the pillow and she closes her eyes.

I do not even think about it. Tucking my pack and walking stick under the bed, I climb into the hammock. Even before I can lie down, Danae is softly snoring. I reach over to snuff the lamp out. The last thing I remember before falling asleep a few minutes later is the gentle rolling of the ship as it pulls away from the dock and rides the river current.

* * *

The sharp tolling of the ship’s bell awakens me to a well-lit room. The rhythmic rise and fall of the boat indicates that the Lady is taking ocean swells, so we must be well underway.

This is one of those rare moments on a retrieval when I can let go and completely relax, without worrying about who might burst through the door. I turn over, and the swaying motion lulls me back into sleep.

Later on I wake up for good, and take some deep breaths of the cool, salty air. When I glance down at the bed, I see that Danae is gone. I am not concerned; she could not have gone far.

After stretching, I swing my legs over the side of the hammock and drop to the deck. The first thing I do is check on the generator. It is still there, although I wish I had something better to transport it in.

Then again, that worn, shabby backpack is probably the last thing a thief would search through, and I doubt anyone aboard this vessel would have an inkling of its real worth. As long at the captain thinks he already has my most valuable possession, I am not too worried that he will get greedy. One of the fine arts of retrieving is managing expectations.

When I emerge on deck, I see that the sun is near midday, and we are under full sail. The sky is lightly overcast and the wind brisk, but I do not sense a pending storm. Captain Hanford and Danae are on the aft deck, near the helm. I go back to join them.

As I approach, Danae turns to greet me with a broad, warm smile. Her braided hair drapes over one shoulder, and she wears a green, long-sleeved cotton shirt, along with a white skirt that whips around her legs.

“Mister K’Marr,” the captain heartily greets me. “Your wife explained the circumstances of your, um, abrupt departure.” Danae graces me with a sweet smile as she plays the part by sidling up to me and slipping her arm around my waist. “So I trust you don’t mind that I took the liberty of providing her with a few changes of clothing. On occasion I’ve had a lady companion in need of an outfit or two, so I keep a few things on hand. She can keep them with my compliments; your passage more than covers it.”

“Thank you, Captain, you are quite generous,” I reply. “Does the wind favor us?”

“It does indeed. We should make Entiak within three days if the weather holds. Duty calls, sir, so I must take my leave.” He turns to Danae. “My lady, I have a fine tea that will settle your stomach, if your condition requires it.” Hanford nods to both of us and heads forward.