Song of the Far Isles by Nicolas Bowling

Author:Nicolas Bowling
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chicken House
Published: 2021-07-21T00:00:00+00:00

They decided to spend the night in a seafront tavern, six of them plus Alick. Oran kept the pouch of his ashes against her hip. It felt good to have him close by. As well as Oran, Alick, Guillam and the captain there were three others: Sev, the quartermaster who had made fun of Oran when she was scrubbing the deck; Erikah, the young woman who had been lookout before Alick; and a man called Korro, one of the gunners.

The tavern was a strange place. In fact, Oran wouldn’t have even called it a tavern, since it lacked most of the things that would have defined a place as such. When they came through the front door the quiet was unnerving. There was no music, obviously, but the conversations also seemed dull and unenthused. No ghasts, either, and their lack made an already damp and gloomy establishment damper and gloomier still. The patrons chewed on their mugs of ale, as though it was a chore to be drinking there at all.

She didn’t know how many people had spotted Alick hovering beside her, but a ripple of surprise passed through the tavern and he disappeared instantly. The barman watched the group as they made for a table in the rear, scowling as he forced a dirty dishrag into a tankard.

‘Kelp juice all round, is it?’ said Guillam as the others drew up stools in the cubbyhole.

Oran groaned without meaning to.

‘Not a fan, Oran?’ said Guillam in mock surprise. ‘Captain, remember that stuff we got given on Eyelet? They’d distilled it from cuttlefish. You’d think it would be foul, but you know when something comes full circle, passes all the way through foul and somehow becomes delicious again? Well, this cuttlefish brew was something like that. But mark my words, it put hairs on your chest. Or the opposite. Made your hair fall out. Sev, you drank rather a lot of it, didn’t you?’

Sev had a bald head, and an extensive collection of scars, and looked quite the most hardened brute on the Four Seas. But he also smiled a lot and his voice had an unexpectedly musical lilt to it.

‘Guillam?’ he said.

‘Yes?’

‘Stop talking and get the drinks.’

‘Ah, touched a nerve?’

‘Guillam!’ snapped the captain.

‘Yes, yes. So, Oran, what will it be after all that?’

Her tongue was dry, her lips tattered and salty. ‘Don’t any of you ever drink water?’

‘Difficult to come by fresh stuff, most of the time.’

Guillam shrugged. ‘But I’ll see what I can rustle up for you.’

While he was gone, the rest of the Opera talked in low voices. So low, in fact, it was difficult to hear exactly what they were saying.

‘Lot of money here tonight,’ said Erikah, looking around at the finely dressed patrons. She tugged down her sleeves and pulled up her collar to conceal her tattoos.

The captain nodded. ‘All here for the Hunters’ Ball,’ she said.

‘Hunters’ Ball?’ said Oran.

‘Hosted by the Duchess every year. All the wealthiest merchants get an invite. And, for one year only, the six of us.

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