“Night, Drew, ya lousy Lanksteer!” Grady said, shooing him away as if he were a bug. “We can talk at breakfast, eh?”
“Sure, Grady,” Drew said. “Oh, that reminds me. I heard something right funny tonight when I was reefing the tops’l. We’re going to be taking on a passenger to help find the horn. How stupid are these landlubbers? It’s only the most well-known point on the Sharon! Anyway, remind me at breakfast and I’ll tell ya about it. It’s a real hoot, it is. Night now.”
Most of the rest of the men headed off, leaving just Wyatt, Grady, Poe, and Hadrian.
“You should turn in as well,” Wyatt told Poe.
“I’m not tired,” he protested.
“I didn’t ask if you were tired, did I?”
“I want to stay up and celebrate my promotion.”
“Off with ya before I report you for disobeying a superior.”
Poe scowled and stomped off, looking for his hammock.
“You too, Grady,” Wyatt told him.
The old seaman looked at Wyatt suspiciously, then leaned over and quietly asked, “Why you trying to get rid of me, Deminthal?”
“Because I’m tired of looking at that ugly scowl of yours, that’s why.”
“Codswallop!” he hissed. “You wanna be alone to talk about the you-know-what, don’t ya? Both of you are in on it. I can tell, and that Royce fellow, he’s in too. How many more you got, Wyatt? Room for another? I’m pretty good in a fight.”
“Shut up, Grady,” Wyatt told him. “Talk like that can get you hanged.”
“Okay, okay,” Grady said, holding up his palms. “Just letting you know, that’s all.” He got up and headed for his own hammock, casting several glances back over his shoulder, until he disappeared into the forest of swinging men.
“What was that all about?” Hadrian asked, hooking a thumb toward Grady’s retreating figure.
“I don’t know,” Wyatt replied. “There’s always one sailor on board any ship looking for a mutiny. Grady seems to be the Emerald Storm’s. Ever since he signed on, he’s been thinking there’s a conspiracy going on—mostly because he wants there to be, I think. He has issues with authority, Grady does.” Wyatt started gathering up the scattered deck of cards into a pile. “So, what’s your story?”
“How do you mean?” Hadrian asked.
“Why are you and Royce here? I stuck my neck out getting you on board. I think I’ve a right to know why.”
“I thought you got us aboard to pay off a debt.”
“True, but I’m still curious why you wanted on the Storm in the first place.”
“We’re looking for a safer line of work and thought we’d try sailing,” Hadrian offered. Wyatt’s face showed he was not buying it. “We’re on a job, but I can’t tell you more than that.”
“Does it have to do with the secret cargo?”
Hadrian blinked. “It’s possible. What is the secret cargo?”
“Weapons. Steel swords, heavy shields, imperial-made crossbows, armor—enough to outfit a good-sized army. It came aboard at the last minute, hauled up in the middle of the night just before we sailed.”
“Interesting,” Hadrian mused. “Any idea where we’re headed?”
“Nope, but that’s not unusual. Captains usually keep that information to themselves, and Captain Seward doesn’t even share that with me … and I’m the quartermaster.”
“Quartermaster? I thought you were the helmsman.”
“I’m guessing you’ve served in armies, haven’t you?”
“A few, and the quartermaster is the supply officer.”
“But on the sea, the quartermaster steers the ship, and as I mentioned, the captain hasn’t even told me where we are going.” Wyatt shuffled the cards absently. “So, you don’t know where the ship is going, and you weren’t aware of the cargo. This job didn’t come with much in the way of information, did it?”
“What about you?” Hadrian turned the tables. “What are you doing here?”
“I could say I was working for a living, and for me it would actually make sense, but like you, I’m looking for answers.”
“To what?”
“To where my daughter is.” Wyatt paused a moment, his eyes glancing at the candle. “Allie was taken a week ago. I was out finding work, and while I was gone, the Imps grabbed her.”
“Grabbed her? Why?”
Wyatt lowered his voice. “Allie is part elven, and the New Empire is not partial to their kind. Under a new law, anyone with even a drop of elf blood is subject to arrest. They’ve been rounding them up and putting them on ships, but no one can tell me where they’ve taken them. So here I am.”
“But what makes you think this ship will go to the same place?”
“I take it you haven’t ventured down to the waist hold yet?” He paused a second, then added, “That’s the bottom of the ship, below the waterline. Ship stores are there, as well as livestock like goats, chickens, and cows. Sailors on report get the duty to pump the bilge. It’s a miserable job on account of the manure mixing with the seawater that leaks in. It’s also where—right now—more than a hundred elves are chained up in an area half this size.”