Meas leaned in close to Joron and whispered to him.
“Be ready to untruss our rearmost gallowbows,” she said. And he in turn passed the order on to the deckmother, Solemn Muffaz, who brought up the two bowcrews and had them stand near enough the great weapons of the warship to ready them should they so need it.
“Shipwife,” Meas shouted once that was done, “I am afraid I must insist. Should you be found wrecked for want of a spar I could never forgive myself.”
They watched the crew of the other ship: a smaller woman joined the shipwife and the two spoke, heads almost touching. Black Orris fluttered down from the rigging to land on Meas’ shoulder. “Hag’s arse!” it croaked and Meas reached up and fondled the black feathers of his throat.
“Shipwife,” came the cry from Maiden’s Bounty. “Of course you may come across. I did not mean to give the impression that we were ungrateful. I will prepare my crew to receive you.” Meas gave the other shipwife a wave and turned to Joron.
“Something is off here, Twiner.”
“What?”
“I do not know, but smell the air.” He did, took a great sniff of the sea air and behind the freshness brought by the north wind there was another smell, a stink like a ship left too long in harbour, when the rubbish gathered around it and the bilges swelled with sewage.
“Are its bones rotting, do you think?” he said.
“Something is definitely rotten, Deckkeeper. We’ll take Coughlin and our seaguard across with us, I think. And you shall bring that fancy sword I gave you.”
“Will they not suspect we are up to something?”
“Possibly,” she said, “but I do not care. A fleet shipwife should have a guard with her, so it will not be too strange. It is not only the smell of the ship that bothers me, Twiner, it is the placing of it. Such ships are meant for traversing between islands, they are not strong enough to fly the true ocean alone, so for it to be so far out is odd in itself.”
“Smugglers?”
“It would be my first thought.”
“There is a decent prize to be had for taking a smuggler’s ship.”
“Well, I doubt that ship is worth much, but it may have a valuable cargo. Keyshanbone is likely.”
“It will give our crew a good amount of money to send home if it is.”
“Ey, even Cwell may smile, eh?”
“I doubt it.”
“Well, she would be right not to smile. If it’s keyshanbone we will have to take this ship somewhere safe and contact Kept Indyl Karrad back in Bernshulme. He can have it shipped to Safeharbour for our own fleet. We will not see any money from it; the crew will have to be content with serving a higher purpose.”
“Arse!” The call came from Black Orris as the night-black corpsebird flapped its wings for balance on Meas’s shoulder.
“I suspect many will agree, Black Orris,” said Meas. “But this is my ship and those who crew it follow my rule, happy or sad, rain or shine.” She turned away. “Well, Deckkeeper, is my boat ready or not?”
“I will see to it, Shipwife,” he said.
Within a turn of the sand they were making their way to the merchanter, across freezing choppy water in the windfluke, the great slab sides of the Maiden’s Bounty growing with every stroke of the oars. At the rails of the bigger ship stood crew – not many, mostly women with a few men scattered among them. They leaned over the railing watching Meas, who watched them back from the beak of her small boat. Ten of the Tide Child’s deckchilder rowed them, and squeezed in among them were Coughlin, his second Berhof – an enormous though affable man who Coughlin had raised from in among his seaguard. Coughlin had chosen well there, thought Joron, Berhof was well-liked by all aboard Tide Child, even though he had never really found his sea legs, a thing that would have brought ridicule had Berhof not been so popular. With them were eight of the seaguard, hunched around their small circular shields. It always seemed such a strange thing to Joron, a man raised on the sea by his father, that there could be those in the Hundred Isles who had never stood on the deck of the ship. There were few women and men more miserable on the waves than Coughlin’s seaguard – though Coughlin himself had almost managed to come to terms with the ocean, even enjoyed it on occasion.
The crew of Maiden’s Bounty threw down a rope ladder and as Farys tied the flukeboat to the bigger ship Meas ascended, followed by her crew and then Coughlin, Berhof and the seaguard. Joron came last, fighting the ladder as it twisted and bucked beneath his booted feet.
On the deck of the merchanter crew stood about, appearing aimless and innocent though Joron noticed that each and every one of them held, if not a weapon, at least something that could be used as such.
“Welcome,” said the merchanter’s shipwife. Up close he could see she had been imposing once, but had gone to seed now. “Shipwife Meas, the greatest of us, eh?” She spat on the deck. “Well, we owe you our thanks, it is true. I will feed you for it if you come to my cabin.”
The wind, which had until that moment been blowing on Joron’s back and over the ship, dropped for a moment and the smell – that almost unbearable, clinging stench he had caught a hint of on Tide Child – came close to overwhelming him. He felt the world spin, the deck move beneath his feet in an unfamiliar way, just like stepping onto land for the first time after weeks afloat. Meas’s hand closed round his arm.
“Breathe deep, it will pass.”
“Heh,” the Maiden’s shipwife coughed, “boy can’t take a little stink, eh? And he’s your deckkeeper? Always say it’s a mistake to put a man in charge, ey, Caffis?” She glanced over her shoulder at a slender woman behind her.
“Ey, Shipwife Golzin. Men don’t have the tits for command.”
Meas’s hand tightened further around his arm. “Breathe deep, Deckkeeper,” she said again, then turned. “It is an uncommon stink aboard this ship, right enough, Shipwife.”
“You get used to it,” said Shipwife Golzin. “But if you cannot eat, I will understand. And if you are here to help then maybe we need enough material to get a mainspine up and to patch the hull. We can manage ourselves after that.”
“You said you were well supplied,” said Meas.
Golzin shrugged in return. “Well, it seems I were misled by my purseholder, corrupt lot that they are.”
Meas nodded, as if in agreement. “What is it, Shipwife Golzin? The stink?”
Golzin shrugged again. “It is simply an old ship, Shipwife Meas.”
“Brave to bring an old ship this far out into the ocean,” said Meas.
“I do this route a lot,” said the shipwife, and she turned away from Meas. “I know these seas.”
“Apart from that island, ey?”
Golzin turned. “Ey,” she said. Something crossed her face – confusion? Anger? “That island wasn’t on the charts, wasn’t there last time we passed. I am sure of it.”
“Moving islands?” said Meas. “I will have to warn my courser of this development.”
Golzin shook her head. “Mock if you wish, I tell the truth. Now, do you want to eat or not?”
“No,” said Meas, “what I really wish is to see your cargo.”