Page 61 of Broken Fate
On the far side of Kiel, Andi cursed and emptied the contents of her stomach over the side. I never knew if it was the sound, the smell, or the continued rocking of the ship, but a second or two later, I was doing the same.
“With this much in common,” Kiel said with far too much nonchalance, “I can see you two becoming the best of friends.”
Andi made a rude gesture. I tried to glare, but another wave of nausea overcame me, and I was forced to bend over the rail once more.
“I’ll just leave the two of you to get better acquainted,” he said. “Besides, I have to talk to the captain about the plan once we reach Helisson.”
“Bastard,” Andi hissed as he walked away, leaving us with our shared misery.
“Swell guy,” I muttered. “Real swell.”
“Speaking of swells,” Kiel called back as we reached the top of a wave, and the ship's bow plunged downward.
Andi and I resumed our station hanging halfway over the rail, holding on for dear life.
By the time the great sailing ship rounded the coast and sailed into the much calmer waters of Helisson Bay, we were both still at the edge of the deck, though now curled into the fetal position. There was nothing left in our stomachs. One of the sailors had covered us in blankets. We were too pitiful to have put on any clothing.
“Here,” a sailor said as I managed to sit up, my nausea fading as the ship sailed smoothly across the mostly flat waters of the bay. He handed me a cup of something that smelled like ginger.
“Slowly,” he said, glancing at the cup before delivering a matching drink to Andi.
I took the cup, my back to the railing, and sipped slowly. The warmed drink went down smoothly, further calming some of the churning that remained in my gut. My brain stirred slightly as well.
Footsteps approached. It was Kiel. He held out a bundle of dirt-brown cloth, a second one, presumably for Andi, tucked under his arm.
“Take this, put it on,” he said. “We’re here.”
I finished the drink and took the offered clothing, which turned out to be a robe only a size or so too big. I cinched the belt around the waist, only then taking a look at the city that awaited us.
“Oh,wow,” I whispered, leaning on the railing for support. “Look at that, Andi.”
She stirred, groaning something, but managed to pull herself to her feet, donning her robe as well.
The first thing we saw were the ships. They were huge and plentiful, and they dotted the bay, riding gently at anchor in the light morning breeze. Others were nestled up to great wooden piers, where gangs of men and women were hauling cargo up from the depths to be sent to warehouses for storage. Those who had already sold their lot were busy loading fresh merchandise into the holds as they prepared to search for new deals. Vendors’ and workers’ cries were carried out easily across the water.
Birds cawed overhead, circling incessantly, occasionally diving down to score a scrap or a piece of garbage that seemed particularly appealing. Flags of all manner stirred against their poles, announcing the home port, or nation, upon which they sailed. Others held the coat of arms of the great merchant houses to which the ships belonged.
Fleets of smaller ships and boats moved about the chaos. Fishing trawlers, rowed tugboats, and other giant flat-bottomed ships prepared to move up the mouth of the massive river upon which the city of Helisson sat, perched on either side of the water like the jaws of a gargantuan beast, ready to close shut around anyone foolish enough to venture in.
It was the great merchant city of the Canis Empire. The brains may reside in Lycaon, but there was no doubt that Helisson was the heartbeat upon which all else functioned. In Lycaon, politicians ruled the day. In Helisson, the merchant houses lorded over all.
“It’s time,” Kiel said, turning away from the sight of frantic activity. “Let’s go.”
Lingering for a few seconds, trying to take in the river-spanning arches of the magnificent stone bridges and the mighty towers of stone that marked the homes of the merchant houses, I eventually followed Kiel down into the hold, with Andi at my side. Praksis joined us, and he and Flak looked none the worse for wear. Jerks.
“Where’s Clive?” I asked, looking around in the dim light of the hold.
“Waiting for us,” Kiel said, motioning for us to follow as he slipped between a row of crates, taking us deep into the darkness of the ship's lowest level.
There, I found Clive waiting next to three huge crates. Two of the ship's crew were also there. To seal us in, I supposed.
“We’re ready,” Kiel told the sailors, who swiftly and expertly opened one of the crates.
The stench was immediate and putrid. It was caustic but nauseating and unmistakablyshit.
Without so much as a word to me or anyone else, Clive shed his robe and got in, filling half of the empty space. Just as silently, Andi joined him. The crew then sealed them back up, though not fully, leaving room for air. It was hoped that the off-gassing of the shit from the improperly sealed crates would speed the inspector on his way.
Praksis and Flak got in next, offering each other unpleasant grimaces as the lid was lowered down on them.
