The Hunters

  ‘Well, Vargas, apparently the Korpaljo wants to see us . . .’ he began. But the captain cut across him.

  ‘Just you. Nobody else.’

  Zavac cursed under his breath. He’d wanted to have a witness to the discussion. You never knew when a witness would come in handy – particularly when dealing with the Korpaljo, who tended to be high handed and autocratic. But he hid his anger and walked submissively to the ladder. He paused and called back to his crewman.

  ‘Tell Andras I’ll be back in . . .’ He paused and turned to the captain. ‘How long will this take?’ he asked.

  The captain shrugged indifferently. ‘How would I know?’ he replied.

  His unfriendly, unco-operative manner continued to worry Zavac. Mihaly definitely had something against him. He racked his brains, trying to think what it could be. He had a sinking feeling that it might concern the emeralds he had kept hidden. That might have been a mistake, he realised.

  He wondered briefly if the summons had anything to do with the appearance of the Skandian ship in Raguza, but he dismissed the thought. He could see no way they could be associated with this predicament. Most likely one of his crew had talked about the emeralds in a tavern – and had been overheard.

  He strode quickly through the narrow streets, keeping pace with the captain. The rest of the guard were formed closely around him, hemming him in and forestalling any chance of escape. Passers-by glanced curiously at the party as they marched through the streets, heavy boots ringing on the cobbles.

  It took them twenty minutes to reach the tower building. Zavac was ushered up the stairs and into the Korpaljo’s office. Mihaly looked up as he entered. His gaze was stony and unfriendly. He said nothing, and an uncomfortable silence developed in the room.

  ‘You wanted to see me, Korpaljo?’ Zavac said, finally. It was a disingenuous statement, he knew. Obviously the Korpaljo wanted to see him. He’d had him dragged here through the streets under guard. Mihaly disdained to answer the question.

  ‘You’re a liar, Zavac,’ he said bluntly. ‘A liar and a cheat.’

  Zavac thought it best to say nothing until he knew more. He had no idea what Mihaly was talking about and blustering about his innocence would do more harm than good.

  To his surprise, Mihaly didn’t pursue the matter but made a sign to one of the guards in the room.

  ‘Let them back in,’ he said. The guard moved to one of the doors leading to side rooms and opened it.

  Zavac recoiled in shock as the guard stood aside to admit the three Skandians. They were the last people he was expecting to see here. Obviously, they didn’t share his surprise. One of the younger ones, the tall, broad-shouldered warrior, lunged forward towards Zavac.

  ‘You coward!’ he cried. ‘I’ll kill you!’

  Two of the guards intervened, blocking his path and restraining him. Mihaly’s voice cut like a whip.

  ‘That’s enough!’ he roared. ‘There’ll be no brawling in here!’

  Stig subsided reluctantly and the guards released him – although they remained close by him in case he erupted again.

  Zavac pointed an accusing finger at the trio.

  ‘Arrest these men! Lock them up!’ he demanded, his voice cracking. ‘They’re enemies!’

  ‘Your enemies, you mean,’ the older Skandian said, sarcasm thick in his voice. ‘You abandoned us, you traitor. You betrayed us and left us to die – like the crew of Stingray.’

  ‘Stingray?’ Zavac said, not prepared for that line of attack. ‘What about her?’

  He had mentioned nothing to the Korpaljo about the raid on Limmat. Now, at the mention of the Stingray, his guilt was plain on his face. He recovered quickly, but it was too late. The Korpaljo had noticed the sudden wariness that came into his eyes. Zavac appealed to him.

  ‘These men fought against me!’ he said. ‘I raided the Skandian capital of Hallasholm and they came after me. They’re enemies!’ he repeated.

  Mihaly assessed him coolly. ‘You raided Hallasholm? Then where is the plunder from that raid?’

  Zavac made a desperate, dismissive gesture in the air.

  ‘I sold most of it on the way here!’ he said. ‘We had to buy supplies. There was little enough to start with. These northmen have no sense of value. They think wool and mutton and salted fish are valuables,’ he added scornfully.

  Mihaly eyed him shrewdly. He was an expert dissembler and he prided himself that he could tell when anyone was lying to him. There was a desperate note in Zavac’s tone that indicated all too clearly that he wasn’t telling the truth.

  ‘And what about this raid where they claim you deserted them?’ he asked, his tone deceptively uninterested.

  ‘I know nothing about it!’ Zavac answered immediately. He was beginning to recover from the initial shock of seeing the Skandians here in the Korpaljo’s office. He threw an indignant look at them now. ‘I was never anywhere near Limmat,’ he said firmly.

  Mihaly went silent. He looked at the three Skandians, then back at Zavac.

  ‘Who mentioned Limmat?’ he said mildly.

  Zavac felt the blood draining from his face as he realised he had gone one step too far in his denial. He tried to recover.

  ‘You did!’ he said desperately. But the Korpaljo shook his head slowly.

  ‘No. I didn’t,’ he said. ‘And neither did they. I told them not to mention the town. So I can’t help wondering why you brought it up.’

  Zavac said nothing. There was nothing he could say. He realised that he had been at a major disadvantage from the beginning. The Skandians had got to Mihaly first, with their version of the story, and had cleverly mixed facts with their own lies to make it convincing. Maybe, he thought, he could still ride this out. Given time, he might be able to prove that the Skandians were enemies – not just to him, but to Raguza and its inhabitants as a whole.

  But Mihaly had another shock in store for him. He reached into his pocket and dropped something onto the desk top. It clattered and rolled a few centimetres before coming to rest. Zavac’s eyes were glued to it.

  Its distinctive deep green colouration marked it as a Limmatan emerald. He had never seen emeralds that rich shade of green anywhere else.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. Where had Mihaly got hold of the fabulous stone? It had to be one of the fifty such gems that were secreted on board the Raven. But how had it fallen into the Korpaljo’s possession? Mihaly’s next words told him.

  ‘The Skandians paid part of their one-tenth levy with this stone. It’s a remarkable colour. I’ve never seen anything like it before.’ He paused and those dark, almost black, eyes rose from the jewel on the table and bored into Zavac’s like twin augers.

  ‘Have you?’ Mihaly demanded. ‘They tell me it was part of their plunder from Limmat. And they tell me you have a lot more stones like this one in your possession.’

  ‘No! I . . . I’ve never seen anything like this before. I . . .’ He turned his gaze on the three Skandians. The two younger men’s faces were set and grim. He could read the hatred and contempt in them. The older one, the raffish, one-armed old seafarer, was smiling at him. It was a cruel smile, devoid of humour, devoid of pity. Too late, Zavac realised that by hiding the existence of his emeralds, by trying to cheat Mihaly, he had alienated the Korpaljo and seemingly validated the Skandians’ story.

  Mihaly studied him for several seconds, then turned to the guard captain, standing at ease against the wall with his men.

  ‘Captain,’ he said, ‘take your men back to the Raven. Give them axes and crowbars and tear the ship apart until you find where Zavac has hidden his share of the emeralds. They’ll be there somewhere, probably in a very clever hiding place. If you have to destroy the ship to find them, then do it. Then tow it out of the harbour and burn what’s left of it.’

  ‘Yes, sir!’ the captain replied. He turned to his men, who came to attention as he looked at them.

  ‘Men . . .’ he began, but Zavac’s desperate cry stopped hi
m.

  ‘No! No need for that! I’ll tell you where they are.’ Better to lose the emeralds, he thought, than to lose his ship.

  Mihaly held up a hand to stop the captain. He regarded Zavac with interest.

  ‘In the stern, under the decking, I have a sleeping cabin. On the inboard bulkhead is a plank with an oval knot in it. Push on the knot and the plank will come loose. The emeralds are behind it.’

  ‘How many?’ Mihaly demanded. Zavac’s shoulder slumped.

  ‘Fifty-two of them,’ he admitted. The Korpaljo leaned back in his seat, a grim smile playing around his lips.

  ‘Then I’ll take half,’ he said. ‘If you’d told me about them in the first place, I would have taken five as your fee. Now you’ll pay five times that much for lying and for holding out on me.’ He gestured for the captain to leave the room. ‘Go and fetch them,’ he said. ‘Bring them here.’

  The captain saluted and led his squad from the room. Zavac turned and spat his venom at the Skandians.

  ‘Be careful where you walk at night, you swine!’ he said. ‘I’ll kill you for this. I swear it.’

  Surprisingly, it was the slightly built youth who responded. He took a step towards Zavac, who couldn’t help falling back as he read the cold hatred in his eyes.

  ‘Feel free to try any time, you gutless piece of garbage,’ he said. ‘If you have the courage to do it yourself. I’ll be happy to put my sword through you.’

  ‘Enough!’ Mihaly snapped, slamming his open hand down on his desk with an echoing crack. ‘There is no fighting in Raguza. I keep the peace here. If any of you try to break that peace, I’ll have you crucified. Is that clear?’

  Zavac and the three Skandians said nothing. He was obviously furious, Zavac thought. The normal punishment for fighting within the city limits was instant expulsion, not death.

  ‘IS THAT CLEAR?’ Mihaly repeated, his words echoing off the white-painted walls of the semi-circular room. Raguza, packed full of pirates, thieves and murderers, was a potential tinder box. If he ever allowed the residents to begin fighting among themselves, he could lose control and the resultant chaos could destroy the haven. This time, they all mumbled an acknowledgement. He took a deep breath and sat back. ‘It had better be,’ he said.

  The captain returned within the hour. He had a large sack that he handed to Mihaly. The Korpaljo opened it and spilled the lustrous emeralds out onto the desk. He sighed with pleasure.

  ‘Was there anything else?’ he asked idly, flicking through the beautiful stones with his forefinger. The captain shrugged.

  ‘There was a large yellow ball in a leather sack,’ he said. ‘Looked like glass of some kind. But it had no value. I left it there.’

  Mihaly, Zavac and the guard captain were intent on the pile of lustrous green gems on the table. None of them noticed the quick look that passed between the three Skandians.

  Raguza was a remarkably pleasant town to spend time in, Hal thought. The streets were clean; the buildings were attractive and well kept. The harbour itself was a focal point of interest and activity.

  There were excellent eating houses, offering cuisine from half a dozen different countries, and comfortable well-run taverns. Of course, close to the harbour, there were the usual dives and noisy, dirty saloons that would be found in any port. But once you moved away from the waterfront area, the class of establishment improved markedly. There was a good selection of pleasant, comfortable inns as well, although the prices were such that crews could only afford the occasional overnight stay.

  Amazing what money could do, Hal thought. And there was plenty of money available in Raguza – although it was depressing when one considered the source of such funds.

  Hal, Stig, Lydia and Jesper were seated at a table in one of the better eating houses. They had just finished a delicious meal – cuttlefish coated with crumbs, salt and pepper, and shallow fried until it was tender and delicious. It was an expensive dish, mainly because of the liberal use of pepper – one of the most expensive spices in that part of the world. But it was worth the price. There had been a green salad to accompany the cuttlefish, with an astringent dressing that awakened the mouth and complemented the spiciness of the fish.

  Thorn had elected not to join them. ‘I’ll get some sleep on board,’ he declared. The rest of the crew were sampling the delights of Raguza as well. In the light of Zavac’s threat, Hal had warned them to stay together – he doubted anyone would be willing to attack a group that included the massive Ingvar. There was a general rule in Raguza that people went about the town unarmed, although that didn’t apply to the Skandians’ saxes, or the massive oak staff that Ingvar carried.

  But Hal and his companions weren’t out simply for a night on the town. Once it was dark, they had made their way to Goathead Bay, where they had learned the Raven was moored. Finding a vantage point on the next jetty, they had crouched in hiding behind a pile of lumber and used rope and studied the ship intently.

  Or rather, Jesper had.

  Now they sat, waiting for his opinion. Stig, as usual, decided they had waited long enough.

  ‘Well, what about it? Can you do it? Can you get aboard and steal the Andomal?’

  Hal glanced around apprehensively and gestured for Stig to keep his voice down. His friend shrugged an impatient apology. Jesper hesitated. He had been thinking over the problem all the way back from Goathead Bay. He looked at Hal when he answered.

  ‘I don’t know. It’ll be tough. You’re sure they’ve got the Andomal on board?’

  ‘Would we have wasted an hour spying on the Raven if we weren’t?’ Stig asked. Lydia laid a hand on his left arm.

  ‘Keep it down, Stig,’ she said quietly. ‘You never know who might be listening. Best not to mention any names, all right?’

  He flushed, realising his mistake. He made an uncertain gesture with his right hand. He took care not to move his left. He liked the feel of Lydia’s hand on his arm.

  ‘Yeah. Yeah. Sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s just so galling to know that the . . . you-know-what is so close to hand.’

  ‘So we are sure?’ Jesper repeated.

  Hal answered him. ‘We’re as sure as we can be. The guard captain said he found a ball of yellow glass. What else could it be?’

  Jesper shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Maybe a ball of yellow glass?’ He saw the pained look on Hal’s face and added quickly, ‘Sorry. I guess you’re right.’

  ‘And we know where he keeps it. Zavac said himself, there’s a concealed hiding place in his sleeping berth at the stern of the ship. It should be child’s play to sneak on board and find it.’

  Jesper raised an eyebrow at the words. ‘You must know some very badly brought-up children if you think so,’ he said.

  Hal made an apologetic gesture. ‘All right, I might be simplifying things a little. But –’

  ‘A little? You’re asking me to sneak on board their ship without being seen, make my way to Zavac’s sleeping cabin without being seen, get into it without being seen, steal the Andomal and get out again without being seen.’

  Hal shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Jesper described the sequence of events. He thought the former thief was making it sound more difficult than it really was.

  ‘I thought you were good at that sort of thing,’ he said.

  Jesper snorted derisively. ‘Nobody’s good at that sort of thing,’ he said. ‘The ship is halfway along a jetty. The jetty is well lit and there’s very little cover on it. That said, I might be able to reach the ship without being seen.’

  ‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it?’ Lydia asked, and Jesper gave her a withering look.

  ‘Problem is, I then have to get from the jetty to the deck of the ship. Have you noticed, Lydia, what happens when someone steps on board a ship?’

  She shook her head, gesturing for him to explain. He did so, enunciating his words with exaggerated care.

  ‘The ship moves,’ he said. ‘Particularly if it’s tied up alongside in calm water. It rocks.??
?

  Lydia shrugged. ‘Yeah, but . . . not very much, surely?’

  ‘It doesn’t have to rock very much. These men are sailors, experienced sailors. They know what it feels like if somebody steps aboard.’

  ‘Well,’ said Lydia, frowning, ‘couldn’t you step aboard so that it doesn’t rock?’

  Jesper leaned back in his seat, looking at her for several seconds. Finally, he turned to Hal. ‘Do you want to take that one?’ he asked.

  Hal held up his hands in a gesture for peace. He could see that Jesper’s reaction had annoyed Lydia, just as her question had annoyed him.

  ‘It’s not possible, Lydia. They’ll be on the alert now they know we’re in Raguza. Just as we’ll be. If we felt the Heron move in the middle of the night, we’d all notice it and we’d know what was happening.’ He looked thoughtful, then turned to Jesper. ‘What if you got on board over the bow or the stern? If you were in the middle of the ship, it wouldn’t rock, would it?’

  ‘Maybe not,’ Jesper agreed reluctantly. ‘But how do you propose that I get onboard over the stern? I’d have to jump from the jetty to reach it and that’d be sure to set the ship moving.’

  ‘I was thinking you could approach from the harbourside, not the jetty side. If you swam out . . .’

  He got no further before Jesper stopped him. ‘Hold it right there! I don’t swim, remember?’

  ‘No, but we could organise a way for you to float out . . .’

  ‘We did that before, at the beach gate in Limmat, didn’t we? You nearly drowned me.’

  ‘But I’d come with you this time –’

  ‘You came with me that time! You nearly drowned both of us. Sorry, Hal, but I’m not going drifting round the harbour in the middle of the night.’ He studied Hal’s face and could see that his skirl was close to abandoning the idea. He added the final argument. ‘Besides, let’s say we managed it and I hauled myself up over the stern without rocking the boat. Can you imagine the noise I’d make with the water dripping off me back into the harbour?’