Helga: Out of Hedgelands (Wood Cow Chronicles #1)

“In that case, seems as how they’d call you, JM Living,” Red Whale replied with a chuckle.

“Not considerin’ the fate of those as tried to kill me,” Death replied. “Those as messed me and failed aren’t around to mess me again—I see to my business, you understand.”

“Sure,” Red Whale replied slowly, “it’s all right whatever they call you—anyone’s nearly cashed in as many times as you have doesn’t need folks arguin’ with ’em about their name!”

“Blest if I know what you want here,” Death said roughly. “My Corsairs scouted you and this ship don’t ride low enough in the water to be loaded with cargo. So what are you and where’s your home?”

“We are adventurers,” Red Whale replied, “bound into the Voi-Nil on behalf of the great Lord Farseeker, charged to explore and discover new lands. We’re from nowhere you know, going somewhere we don’t know.”

“Cut out the fancy talk—the last fancy talker I met didn’t have the sense of a crab,” Death snapped. “Look, I ain’t holdin’ a reception here,” he continued, surveying Red Whale, ship, and crew with eager and greedy eyes. The long red scar across his face seemed to swell with blood as his excitement grew.

A mass of grayish-white feathers fell in a disheveled mass across the collar of the Gull’s seacoat. The wild feathers vibrated as Death’s head shook with excited glee. “Only two kinds of ships tie up here—those as take liberties with other ships and those dull ships o’ seabeasts, such as yourselves, just wantin’ to come ashore and feast on Slizzer’s delights.”

The old seabird drew a long slim knife from its sheath at his belt and ran the sharp point across his own neck, causing a slight flow of blood to flow. “Now you see, Capt’n,” the Gull continued, “Slizzer is a lawful and orderly town. The law here is simple—we’re organized to the discipline of plunder and booty. Our fundamental rule—which I, as mayor, am sworn to uphold with this knife—is that every ship as stops at Crossports Slizzer contributes to the common purse. No pay, no stay—it’s as simple as that.”

The Gull, with a look full of meaning, again ran the sharp knife gently across his neck, leaving another faint line of blood. “Most of the fine ships you see here are owned by Slizzer’s best citizens—Fancy Grace; Black Fats, the Mad; and Captain Bull. These fine, civic-minded citizens do as they will with the ships they find at sea—and pay ten shares of their booty into the common fund. For those as trade in the dull commerce of normal business, or are just passin’ through Sizzer, it’s two thousand pounds of gold—payable now, if you please.” The Seagull looked at Red Whale expectantly.

“What do you mean, two thousand pounds of gold, payable now?” Red Whale demanded. “I don’t owe you a thing, you old swindler! Now get off of all this nonsense—you’re not dealing with a fool.”

“Weell,” the Seagull replied slyly, “you don’t seem to have shown any extry smarts in landing here, thinkin’ use of the docks was free! You tie up and—weell, then—you pay for the privilege of dockin’ here. If you don’t have gold, I’d take three thousand pounds of pearls instead.”

“But we’re here to do business!” Red Whale exploded. “All we want is to contract with the Whale freighters to carry us across the Stills.”

“That’s fine for you and the whales, but not for the shopkeepers and cafés—nor for the mayor. That’s why I, as mayor, am charged to maintain proper respect for law and order! Now, Cap’t Gummerpobb, I think you’re best advised to pay up—then step right this way and bring your crew with you. You’ll see that Slizzer is an absolute emporium of…”

“Bah! You greedy-grub! Why, I’ll not pay you a chip ‘o sand nor tossin’ anything in your grubby little wing until I’m ready.”

“Oh, my,” Death replied, “if you don’t have enough money, don’t worry—we specialize in loans! You can borrow against your ship and crew if you prefer—our bankers are just over there.” Pointing to a hulking, wildly-painted ship anchored a couple of hundred yards away, Death continued, “It won’t take but a moment to get them here.”

“Your ship’s not much to look at, Cap’t Gummerpobb, but takin’ the crew into the equation—looks like I could sell ’em right easy—why, I think that would be plenty to secure a fine loan for you. You’ll have plenty to give you a good time ashore!”

“MY NAME’S NOT, GUMMERPOBB!” Red Whale roared, “THE NAME IS CAPTAIN NORAYN GUMBERPOTT—AND I’LL HAVE NONE O’ YOUR STINKING-BILGE-SUCKING LOANS!”

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