and she was capacious. I found only a couple of places where the carpenter must be called to cut out rotten wood and replace it with new. Her rigging, not taut, was in good condition. She carried her artillery well-positioned and the varters snouted their menace out from her fore and stern castles. These ballistae could shoot either darts or stones. Her armory was tightly locked up and a Chulik mercenary stood there, armed with a boarding pike and a sword, and after a few words I found I had no burning desire to inspect Pompino’s ship’s resources in the way of weapons.
“If we are attacked by renders, no doubt you’ll see inside,” said the Chulik. He wore leather and blue and green feathers, and an iron cap, and he let the boarding pike hover around my midriff.
“No doubt,” I said, and took myself off.
Up on deck gulls flew across, shrieking either cheerfully or menacingly depending on the mood of their auditors. They were headed for the fish quays farther along the shoreline. Tuscursmot lazed under the heat of the twin suns. My feet had no difficulty in leading me to the staterooms aft, where I found Pompino just finishing his business with the stylor. The Relt was packing up his satchel of papers and files, his feathers much ink-stained. Pompino sounded brisk.
“You will take a glass before you go, Rasnoli. Ah, Jak! You have come just in time. All arrangements have been made.” He went on to say that
Tuscurs Maiden
was now cleared for a voyage to the north, some trifles of cargo for the south having been cleared from the ship. She had just taken on a parcel of local produce. We were all set to go with the tide.
“Just in time for what?”
“Why — I do not believe in paying mercenaries to lollygag about. You shall sit with me when we hire on our paktuns for the voyage. They are waiting on the quay.”
This seemed an interesting prospect, for being an old fighting man myself, I take a delight in observing fellow mercenaries. On Kregen, that trade is not held in the low esteem it holds on Earth. For some mercenaries, perhaps, it should be. Masichieri, who are little better than bandits, are bad news anywhere.
But your correct and upright paktun is — or should be — a man or woman of honor. Once they hire out, they take their pay and keep and fight to the death. In theory.
I said, “Are there any Pachaks?”
He screwed up his face. “Four only, I’m afraid.”
“H’m. How many do you take on?”
“I would like two dozen.” In the Kregish he said jikshiv, which is one way of saying twenty-four.
“So you have to find twenty more?”
“Aye. And not a Khibil among them.”
So, up on deck we went and sat on the folding chairs on the quarterdeck, in the shadow of the sterncastle, and watched as the mercenaries trooped up the gangplank.
“That Chulik of yours guarding the armory,” I said. “He looks likely.”
“Nath Kemchug. He costs a lot; but he earns his hire.”
The first two mercenaries up the gangplank and onto the quarterdeck were twins. They wore leather, iron caps, were barefoot, and their hair was cropped short. They were varterists.
One said, “I am Wilma the Shot and this is my sister Alwim the Eye. We know our business, and—”
“Yes,” said Pompino. “I have heard of you. You are welcome and will be paid the top rate. Next.”
The four Pachaks were in no hurry to come aboard. They guessed we would hire them, for when a Pachak gives his nikobi he will fight for his employer until death or a formal renunciation releases him from his vows. The next fellow was a Rapa, big, beaked, feathered, clad in mail, carrying three swords and a dunnage bag over his shoulder. Also, he carried a shield, an oval thing of wicker, bronze rimmed.
“Rondas the Bold,” he said. Indeed, the feathers around his beak and eyes were red. Sometimes it is difficult to judge if a Rapa’s feathers are his own or decorations. “Churgur.” This meant he was a sword and shield man.
“You
“If we are attacked by renders, no doubt you’ll see inside,” said the Chulik. He wore leather and blue and green feathers, and an iron cap, and he let the boarding pike hover around my midriff.
“No doubt,” I said, and took myself off.
Up on deck gulls flew across, shrieking either cheerfully or menacingly depending on the mood of their auditors. They were headed for the fish quays farther along the shoreline. Tuscursmot lazed under the heat of the twin suns. My feet had no difficulty in leading me to the staterooms aft, where I found Pompino just finishing his business with the stylor. The Relt was packing up his satchel of papers and files, his feathers much ink-stained. Pompino sounded brisk.
“You will take a glass before you go, Rasnoli. Ah, Jak! You have come just in time. All arrangements have been made.” He went on to say that
Tuscurs Maiden
was now cleared for a voyage to the north, some trifles of cargo for the south having been cleared from the ship. She had just taken on a parcel of local produce. We were all set to go with the tide.
“Just in time for what?”
“Why — I do not believe in paying mercenaries to lollygag about. You shall sit with me when we hire on our paktuns for the voyage. They are waiting on the quay.”
This seemed an interesting prospect, for being an old fighting man myself, I take a delight in observing fellow mercenaries. On Kregen, that trade is not held in the low esteem it holds on Earth. For some mercenaries, perhaps, it should be. Masichieri, who are little better than bandits, are bad news anywhere.
But your correct and upright paktun is — or should be — a man or woman of honor. Once they hire out, they take their pay and keep and fight to the death. In theory.
I said, “Are there any Pachaks?”
He screwed up his face. “Four only, I’m afraid.”
“H’m. How many do you take on?”
“I would like two dozen.” In the Kregish he said jikshiv, which is one way of saying twenty-four.
“So you have to find twenty more?”
“Aye. And not a Khibil among them.”
So, up on deck we went and sat on the folding chairs on the quarterdeck, in the shadow of the sterncastle, and watched as the mercenaries trooped up the gangplank.
“That Chulik of yours guarding the armory,” I said. “He looks likely.”
“Nath Kemchug. He costs a lot; but he earns his hire.”
The first two mercenaries up the gangplank and onto the quarterdeck were twins. They wore leather, iron caps, were barefoot, and their hair was cropped short. They were varterists.
One said, “I am Wilma the Shot and this is my sister Alwim the Eye. We know our business, and—”
“Yes,” said Pompino. “I have heard of you. You are welcome and will be paid the top rate. Next.”
The four Pachaks were in no hurry to come aboard. They guessed we would hire them, for when a Pachak gives his nikobi he will fight for his employer until death or a formal renunciation releases him from his vows. The next fellow was a Rapa, big, beaked, feathered, clad in mail, carrying three swords and a dunnage bag over his shoulder. Also, he carried a shield, an oval thing of wicker, bronze rimmed.
“Rondas the Bold,” he said. Indeed, the feathers around his beak and eyes were red. Sometimes it is difficult to judge if a Rapa’s feathers are his own or decorations. “Churgur.” This meant he was a sword and shield man.
“You
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