The Black Lung Captain (6 page)

Hodd didn't notice. 'I was alone in the rainforests of Kurg when I saw it. It was—'

'Hold on,' said Frey. 'What were you doing there in the first place?'

'I was engaged in the search for a hidden tribe of savages, mentioned in ancient texts from the days of the Angroms, the first dynasty, founded by Wilven the Successor when he united al of North Pandraca. These texts have lasted almost three and a half milennia, preserved by a curing process unknown to us today.

They speak of a people on Kurg who could see the future, by means of an elixir. If such knowledge existed, I had to find it.'

'An elixir that lets you see into the future?' Frey asked, raising a sceptical eyebrow.

'Think of it!' Hodd enthused.

Frey returned to his food. 'Oh, I am.' He wondered if there was a similar elixir that would alow him to reclaim the lost minutes of his life he'd wasted listening to this drivel. 'And you went there alone? To Kurg?'

'Oh, no, not alone. I have some connections, you see, and wealthy investors wiling to finance my expeditions. With their help I assembled a team of—'

'And this team, where were they when you found the object?'

Hodd's eyes shifted nervously. 'They . . . um . . .'

'They got eaten,' said Grist. 'The ones that didn't get poisoned by the bad food, or died of the rot in their wounds, or sickened with the chils 'cause they went in winter without the right gear.'

'The chils? In a rainforest?' Frey asked.

'Kurg's cold,' said Jez. 'The northern parts are above the Arctic Circle. It's a bit warmer on the south coast, but it's stil no fun in winter, especialy at night.'

'Oh,' said Frey. This was news to him. His knowledge of geography outside of Vardia was shocking.

'You're a smart man, Cap'n, and I see what you're drivin' at,' said Grist. 'Bumble-butt rich folk, more money than sense. This man Hodd couldn't plan an expedition if you nailed a shopping list to his arse.'

'Hey!' said Hodd, looking hurt.

'The issue ain't what he does or how he does it, nor what he thinks about this or that. It's what he
found.'

They looked expectantly at Hodd. The explorer was sulking and didn't seem in the mood to talk to anyone.

'Ah, come on, Hodd,' said Grist, giving him a hearty slap on the shoulder. 'Don't take offence. It's just how we captains talk. Always makin' fun. No harm meant, eh, Frey?'

Frey put up his hands with an innocent face. 'Like he says. It's just how we talk.'

'I suppose so,' said Hodd, reluctantly.

'But just to be clear,' said Grist, leaning over to Frey,
'I'm
in charge of this one.'

'Right,' said Frey, considerably relieved. He turned his attention back to Hodd, who was rearranging his ruffled feathers. 'So you were making your way out of Kurg, presumably a little the worse for wear, and you found an aircraft crashed in the rainforest. What kind of aircraft?'

'Like nothing I'd ever seen before,' said Hodd. 'Like nothing anyone has ever seen.'

'Can you describe it?'

'Er . . .' said Hodd. 'It was big. Hard to get a good look at, realy, al broken and tangled in the forest as it was.'

'Tangled?' said Jez. 'The forest had grown up around it?'

'Oh yes,' said Hodd. 'It's been there a long time. Thousands of years, no doubt.'

'Listen to the next part,' Grist advised Frey.

'As you can imagine, I was thriled at my discovery,' said Hodd. 'I immediately set about exploring it. The craft was quite deserted, but I was in no doubt that it was of a design unfamiliar to Vardia or any of its neighbours. There was writing, in letters I have never seen. And such strange artefacts! Those alone would have convinced me. I have an extensive knowledge of antiques, you know. My father was quite the colector. There has been nothing like this in our histories or anyone else's.'

'Tel them about the
door
,' Grist said impatiently.

'The door. Yes. Wel, despite the vessel's broken hul, I could only access certain parts of the craft. You can imagine my excitement when I found a mysterious door.'

'A mysterious door,' Frey repeated, deadpan.

'Quite so! But when I touched it, the most abominable sensation came over me. My stomach turned, my head swam, and I was flung back, as if by invisible hands.'

'Hmm,' said Frey.

'I tried again, with the same result. I believe it was some form of Azryx technology, meant to guard their treasures. A barrier of some kind, composed of forces beyond my understanding. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't get in. Then I heard some creatures approaching -what kind of horrors, I couldn't say - so I grabbed the artefact you see before you and I fled. Not long after that, I found my way to the landing-site where our aircraft were, and I escaped.'

'Now I know this sounds far-fetched,' said Grist, as Frey opened his mouth to say so. 'Sounds that way to me, too. But before you speak, remember that Hodd here is wiling to lead us back to that place. He's gonna
show
us every word is true. And I made it awful clear that if al ain't as he says, then he's gonna be wearing his guts round his neck.'

'Please,' said Hodd distastefuly. 'There's no need for that. I'm an honourable man, and no liar.'

Frey gazed cooly across the table at Grist. Grist smiled back. The end of his cigar glowed red.

'So that's why you need my daemonist,' Frey said.

'Whatever trickery they put on that door, the one person who might be able to fix it is a daemonist,' said Grist. 'Am I right?'

Frey shrugged. 'I suppose so. I'd have to ask him.'

'Wel, daemonists are a secretive lot, and yours is the only one I know how to find. Word spread of the golem you lot used in Rabban when you took on the
Delirium Trigger
.' He took the cigar from his mouth and exhaled slowly. 'Also, I'm short on time. Hodd here told everyone and their wives about this craft before I found him.'

'I was trying to raise the money to go back!' Hodd cried. 'Nobody believed that what I'd found was a genuine—'

Grist talked over him. 'Regardless, I've wasted weeks trackin' you down, Frey. If anyone's of a mind to take his story seriously, they'l be lookin' for that aircraft too. But what they don't have is Hodd here to guide them.'

'Can
you find it again?' Jez asked Hodd.

'Most certainly! I'd bet my life on it.'

'You
are
betting your life on it,' Grist reminded him. He tapped ash from his grubby cigar on to the table and scratched behind his cauliflower ear. 'I'l be straight with you, Frey. I don't need you or your crew. I just need your daemonist.'

'We're a package,' said Frey.

'I reckoned as much. So I'l cut you in. Mark me, there's treasure on that craft. Your crew and mine, we'l find it. I can get it to people who'l know it's worth, and that worth is gonna be huge. Whatever I make, we split. Eighty-twenty.'

'That's very generous,' said Frey. 'And what wil you do with your twenty per cent?'

Grist's eyes hardened, just a little. 'Seventy-thirty.'

'Fifty-fifty,' Frey countered.

'Sixty-five, forty-five,' Grist snarled.

'That adds up to a hundred and ten,' Jez pointed out.

'Fifty-fifty,' Frey said again, 'or we say goodbye right here. Your "plan" stinks like rancid dogshit and the only evidence of this
vast wealth
you're talking about is a lump of twisted metal and the promises of some half-baked inbreed. Frankly, I'm inclined to forget the whole thing and count myself one breakfast richer.'

'Half-baked inbreed?'
Hodd squeaked.

'It's just how we talk,' Frey said, dismissing his protest.

Grist roled his cigar around his mouth. 'Sixty-forty,' he said. 'And it's final. I got to pay Hodd's five per cent out of my cut, and I'm damned if I'm making
less
than you on my own expedition.'

'Five per cent? That's al you're giving him?'

'I had some trouble raising the finance, and I was getting rather desperate,' said Hodd, looking defeated. 'Captain Grist drives a hard bargain.' He brightened.

'But fame is my reward! I'l be the expedition leader on paper. That was the deal. At the least I'l get a lifetime membership to the Explorer's Guild. Probably.'

Frey finished his breakfast and pushed his plate away. This whole idea seemed shaky, and the idea of going to Kurg was deeply unappealing, but Frey wasn't in a position to be picky right now. Something had to be done to lift the crew of the
Ketty Jay
out of their rut. These past few months they'd been purposeless, moving from job to job, hauling cargo here, running escort there. The pay was pitiful, the work generaly dul. For a brief time, after the destruction of Retribution Fals, they'd felt like buccaneers, lords of the sky. But then real life had seeped back in. Adventure had been in short supply ever since.

A man didn't get too many chances to make a fortune, and he had to grab them when he could.

This
time he'd do it right.
This
time he'd make them al rich. He'd buy himself a place, somewhere. Something solid, firm, real. Somewhere he could come back to between adventures. A home. He'd never had a home of his own. Maybe that'd help. Maybe that'd fix things.

But he'd been burned before. The last time he went for the big money, he'd landed himself and his crew in the worst trouble of their lives.

But we got through it,
he thought.
And it made us into a crew.

He looked over at Jez, hoping to read her. Her opinion would help him decide. But she refused to show him anything.
You're the Cap'n, Cap'n.

'Kurg,' he said to Grist. 'Monsters and beast-men. It's quite a risky business you're proposing.'

Grist puffed on his cigar. Pungent clouds surrounded his dirty, bearded face. He leaned forward, looming through the smoke with a yelow grin.

'Some things are worth riskin'
everythin'
for,' he said. He held out a rough-skinned, grubby hand across the table.

Frey stared at it for a long moment. Why not? It was better than being bored and poor the rest of his life. He held out his own hand. 'Fifty-five, forty-five.'

'Done,
you thievin' son of a bitch!' Grist beamed, and clasped his hand in a crushing grip. 'Damn, but your men better pul their weight for that kind o' cut.' He glanced at Jez. 'And your women too, beggin' your pardon.' Then he slapped Hodd on the back and pointed at Frey. 'Now
that's
how you drive a hard bargain.'

Five

Crake's Daemons — Harkins Decides —

Pulp Fiction — Jez And The Manes

The crew took the news wel, with the exception of Harkins, who had to breathe into a paper bag for a while until his hysteria subsided. They had a few hours to make what preparations they could while they waited for Grist and his crew to sort themselves out. It was a day's flight to the coast and another half-day across the East Divide to Kurg. They'd be taking off as soon as everyone was ready. Grist was certainly in a hurry.he crew took the news wel, with the exception of Harkins, who had to breathe into a paper bag for a while until his hysteria subsided. They had a few hours to make what preparations they could while they waited for Grist and his crew to sort themselves out. It was a day's flight to the coast and another half-day across the East Divide to Kurg. They'd be taking off as soon as everyone was ready. Grist was certainly in a hurry.

Frey went to see Crake in his quarters after he addressed the crew. The daemonist had been silent throughout, and Frey wanted to pick his brains in private about the strange barrier on the door that Hodd had encountered.

Crake's quarters, like the others on the
Ketty Jay
, were cramped and spartan, with bare metal wals and a sliding door to maximise space. They'd previously been the passenger's quarters, but they didn't take passengers these days, so Crake had the luxury of two bunk beds to himself. He used the upper bunk to store luggage and books.

'So what do you think?' Frey asked. 'You think you could break that barrier?'

Crake was sitting on the lower bunk while Frey leaned against the wal. 'Can't say without being there,' he said. 'I need to take readings. We'l have to haul my equipment through the rainforest.' His tone was lazy, disinterested. Barely bothering to pronounce his words properly.

'Can Bess do it?'

Crake made a face. 'Bess shouldn't come. She's too big and too heavy for tramping around in that kind of terrain. She'd sink to her knees in the mud the first time it rained. Not to mention she'd knock over every tree on the way.'

Frey hadn't thought of that. He cursed under his breath. Having along would have been their most effective defence against the monsters that were rumoured to dwel in Kurg. 'Just give me a best guess, then. Does it sound like something you could crack? The barrier, I mean.'

'It
sounds
like something a daemonist would put up to keep people out,' said Crake. His words had degenerated into slurring. 'Pretty basic, actualy. Repulsion and nausea. But I won't know til we gel there. If it's some sort of unknown technology . . .' He shrugged. He made to get to his feet, but his hand slipped on the edge of the bunk and he flopped back down.

'Are you drunk?' Frey asked, surprised. It wasn't even midday.

Crake gave a guilty smile. 'Little bit,' he said. He reached under his bunk and puled out a bottle. 'Want some? Trade you for some Shine.'

'Shine?' Frey said stupidly.

'Shine. We al know you use it, Cap'n,' Crake said, with an insinuating wink.

'Once in a while, sure, but—'

'Can I have some?'

'Crake, what is
wrong
with you? Used to be you felt like one of us. but you've been acting stranger and stranger for months. Now this? Drunk by midday?

You?'

Crake just stared at him with an expression that said:
are you finished?
It made Frey angry al of a sudden. This wasn't the Crake he knew. Not at al.