Corthie snorted. ‘I underestimated how much of an asshole Marcus was. Kano, I knew about, but I should have listened to… never mind.’
‘And the aforementioned Marcus is now Prince of Tara.’
‘And Salvor, is he alright?’
‘My master remains in Cuidrach Palace as Governor of Pella.’
‘So he swore allegiance then?’
‘Evidently.’
‘And the other demigods? Any news?’
‘Most of them have taken the oath to the new prince, in front of the God-Queen herself. Of the God-King, there’s been no word, so it’s assumed he has acquiesced with the take-over. I think there are only two rebels: Lord Naxor and Lady Aila, but the local gossips of the Grey Isle knew nothing more than that.’
Corthie’s heart jumped at the mention of Aila’s name. The news might be half a month out of date, but he clung onto it. If he was going to get through whatever struggles were ahead, he needed something to hold on to, and there was nothing he wanted more than to be with Aila again. He treasured the image of her in his mind, of how she had looked in the rose garden the night they had met.
‘Watch out for the other prisoners,’ the man said, breaking Corthie out of his thoughts. ‘If they discover who you are, and let’s face it, with your height and build that probably won’t take too long, they might target you. Khora wasn’t universally popular, but she had her supporters, and I imagine you might face some opposition.’
Corthie shrugged. ‘Bring it on.’
Low voices echoed through from the deck above, and the motion of the ship slowed.
‘Why’s it so dark?’ Corthie said, gazing up at the grey light filtering through the hatch. ‘I was promised winter sunshine. It is winter, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it is, but we’re so far iceward that the sun barely rises above the horizon here, which also explains the cold. This is as warm, and as light, as it gets here; but that’s good news as far as the greenhides are concerned. They don’t like it this far iceward, and raids are rare.’ He glanced at Corthie and nodded. ‘I’ve done my part. I’ve warned you, and told you what you needed to know. Remain here, I shall speak to the captain.’
‘Wait,’ said Corthie. ‘I know you work for Lord Salvor, but you still haven’t told me your name.’
The man turned and left the room without answering, leaving Corthie sitting on the damp deck.
A slow hour passed as the ship reached the side of a pier and docked. There were footsteps, and cries from the deck above, and then the prisoners in the main hold were removed in a painstaking operation that seemed to last forever as Corthie waited, impatient and alone. The prisoners were herded across gangways, and Corthie could see their shadows through the mesh of the hatch as they disembarked. He listened, and could hear muffled orders being barked out, as the main batch of fresh prisoners were reviewed and assigned to various labour camps or duties. The majority were being sent to the tar sands, but others were called out for work in the kitchens, laundry or maintenance workshops. After that, there was silence again for a while, and then the door in the bulkhead was opened.
Salvor’s agent entered, along with the two Reaper guards and another man, who glanced at Corthie with curiosity.
‘So this is him, eh?’ he said. ‘This is my secret passenger?’
‘Yes, Captain,’ said Salvor’s man. ‘I trust the extra… compensation you have received for your trouble guarantees your silence also?’
The captain grinned. ‘Sure, sure; just as we agreed. There’s no record of him ever being on board, but you ain’t going to be able to hide him once he’s set foot on land.’
‘That’s not your problem.’
‘Indeed, it’s not.’
Salvor’s man nodded to the Reaper guards and they stepped forward. One was holding a hammer and a thick iron pin, and he knelt by Corthie’s shackles and unfastened them from the wall with a few heavy blows.
Corthie stood, the chains clanking as he stretched his limbs. He pulled on a slim thread of battle-vision, enough to leave him feeling sharp and alert. The guards stepped back a pace, their crossbows levelled at him.
Salvor’s agent nodded. ‘Let’s go.’
Corthie walked forward, the guards letting him pass between them as he left the small compartment where he had been sealed for ten days. The rest of the hold was empty, excepting the stench left by the over-crowded prisoners, and Corthie knew he could easily take down the four men with him, chains or no chains. But then what? He couldn’t pilot an entire ship on his own, even if he had known everything there was to know about boats, but he barely knew how to row, never mind sail.
‘Keep moving,’ said the captain; ‘right to those stairs at the end.’
Corthie glanced at him, and saw the fear in his eyes. ‘I hope you were well paid,’ he said, halting, ‘but you owe me three dinners. Three days out of the ten on this ship, no food came to me. Where is it?’
The guards tensed as the captain and Salvor’s agent exchanged a glance.
‘Well? I’m not getting off this boat until you hand over what you owe me.’
The captain frowned. ‘I don’t owe you anything.’
Corthie folded his arms. ‘I’m waiting.’
Salvor’s man frowned, then nodded to the captain. ‘Do it.’
‘But, I don’t have time; we need to get him…’
‘Do it.’
The captain rubbed his forehead, then disappeared into a small compartment.
Corthie winked at one of the guards as they waited.
‘This is no time for games,’ said Salvor’s agent.
‘It’s not a game; I’m hungry. If I have to do this… whatever it is, then I need to eat.’
The captain re-emerged, holding a half-loaf and a long strip of cured meat. He handed it over to Corthie, who wolfed it all down in under a minute, his stomach groaning with satisfaction.
Salvor’s agent shook his head. ‘Can we go now?’
Corthie nodded, and they began walking again. Corthie reached the steep set of stairs and climbed. The first thing he noticed was the smell, a sour, almost eye-watering stench of burning oil that filled his nostrils. It over-powered the odour from the hold until it became the only smell detectable. His head reached the level of the deck. The sky above was dark but clear of clouds, and many stars were shining, while a freezing wind buffeted his face. He reached the top and stood on the deck. He remained still for a moment, taking in everything around him.
The ship was docked by a long, wooden pier set within the breakwaters of a large harbour. Beyond the docks was a narrow, rocky promontory that was covered in a selection of ramshackle buildings, all of them silhouetted by the thick smoke and red flames rising from an enormous edifice on the edge of town. The smoke rose up above the promontory, forming a dark cloud covering it, while the flames provided the settlement’s illumination.
‘That’s the refinery,’ said Salvor’s agent next to him.
Corthie nodded. ‘And what’s that, then?’
‘It’s where the tar is collected and divided into useful products; I’m sure you’ll learn all about it. Now, turn your gaze in the other direction for one moment.’