Finally, Sol frowned, went to the rail, and leaned over to peer into the darkening water. “Pull on the ropes—haul them back up.” He clasped one of the wet hemp cables and strained, while an eager Bannon took the other rope tied to the second diver.
Bannon’s rope went taut in his hands, then suddenly yanked downward, tightening, burning through his fingers. He cried out and let go as the cable smacked against the Wavewalker’s hull. Something dragged it down from below.
“No swimmer could possibly pull that hard!” Sol said, straining against the rope.
The second rope creaked as an unseen force deep below dragged back. Rom and Elgin rushed to help haul on the ropes to bring their comrades back up. The strange grip tugged back with such strength that the whole ship began to tilt.
They all strained together, shouting, heaving. “Pull them up!” Sol yelled again.
Suddenly, both ropes snapped and hung loose in the water, like drifting seaweed. Working hand over hand, the men furiously pulled the ropes until the frayed end of the first one came free. “Why would they cut their own ropes?” Elgin demanded.
Bannon stared at the torn, stubby end. “That’s frayed, not cut.”
Nicci immediately understood the significance. “Something tore the rope apart.”
As the would-be rescuers hauled up the second loose rope, Rom climbed on the rail, ready to dive overboard to rescue his comrades, but before he could jump, the end of the second rope came dripping out of the water, still tied to the woven belt that had been ripped free from the wishpearl diver. Tangled in the belt were flaccid, wet loops of torn intestine and three connected vertebrae, as if an attacker had simply ripped the belt entirely through the diver’s spine and abdomen.
The sailors howled in fear, backing away.
“But how—?” Rom staggered backward, falling onto the deck. “We didn’t see anything down there.”
“Something killed Pell and Buna,” Sol said. “What could have caused this? What attacked them?”
Elgin glared over at Nicci. “Maybe Death’s Mistress summoned a monster.”
The three surviving divers stared at the sorceress in horror and fear, which quickly turned to obvious hatred.
Bannon whispered to Nicci in amazement, “Did you really do that? Just like you killed the thieves in the alley?”
She quietly chided him for his foolish statement, but after having seen the potential violence in the wishpearl divers, she was glad that they feared her.
CHAPTER 12
The crew stared from the dissipating bloom of blood in the water to the shreds of flopping intestines that dangled from the loop of woven belt. Captain Eli shouted for the sailors to set the sails and weigh anchor as clouds gathered in the dusk. Although the Wavewalker was in warm latitudes, far to the south of Tanimura, the wind seemed to carry a chill of death.
Nimble sailors scrambled out on the yardarms to untie the ropes, while others pulled on the halyards and stretched the canvas. The ship moved away from the reefs, slinking like a whipped dog, while the navigator pushed hard on the rudder and the lookouts guided the course to keep from scraping the dangerous rocks.
The captain called in a hoarse voice, “We’ve already lost two men today. I do not wish to lose more.”
Catching the wind, the ship retreated from the angry line of reefs and reached open water again. As full night fell, clouds obscured the stars, which mattered little since the captain could not navigate by the unfamiliar night sky anyway. He simply wanted to put distance between their ship and the reefs.
Although the crew was superstitious about deadly sea monsters, Nicci simply assumed that some shark or other aquatic predator had attacked Pell and Buna in the reefs. Nevertheless, she remained alert for danger. An ominous mood surrounded the crew like a cold and suffocating mist. After several hours, the blame the three surly wishpearl divers cast on Nicci took hold like an infection among the jittery sailors, and they all looked at her with fear. She did nothing to dispel their concerns. At least they left her alone.
The Wavewalker sailed for three more days, and the weather worsened, like an overripe fruit slowly spoiling. Troubled, the captain emerged from his chart room to stare at the clotted gray skies and the uneasy froth-capped waves. He spoke to Nicci as if she were his confidante. “With a full chest of wishpearls harvested, this voyage has been very profitable, despite the cost in blood. Every captain knows he might lose a crewman or two, though I doubt those divers will ever sail with me again.”
Nicci gave the man a pragmatic look. “You’ll find others. Where are they trained? One of the coastal cities? An island?”
“Serrimundi. Wishpearl divers are revered among their people.”
“I noticed the arrogance.”
“It won’t be easy to replace them.” The captain sighed. “Those three will talk once we get back to a port city.”
“Then invest your new fortune wisely,” Nicci said. “Those pearls in your hold may be the last you ever harvest.” The single pearl Bannon had given her was tucked away in a fold pocket of her black dress.
When the watch changed, a lookout climbed down from the high platform, and another scrambled up the ratlines to take his place. Nathan joined Nicci and the captain on the deck as the windblown, deeply tanned lookout approached. “The clouds look angry, Captain. You can smell a storm on the wind.”
Captain Eli nodded. “We may have to batten down for a rough night.”
“Are there more reefs to worry about ahead?” Nathan asked. “Will we run aground? It would be much harder to find Kol Adair if we’re stranded out on a reef somewhere.”
“Yes, I’m sure it would be quite inconvenient all around.” The captain sucked on his unlit pipe and pressed a hand on his cap to keep the wind from snatching it away. “We are in open water. No reefs that I know of.” The sailor nodded and went back to his duties.
When the other man was gone, Nicci lowered her voice. “You said that your charts were no longer accurate and you weren’t exactly sure where we were.”
Captain Eli’s expression was distant. “True, but I don’t think reefs appear out of nowhere.”
As the blustery wind increased, the anxious crew performed only the most important chores. The potbellied cook came up with a bucket of frothy milk, fresh from the cow kept tied below. “She doesn’t like the rocking of the waves,” he said. “Next time the milk may be curdled when it comes out of her teats.”
“Then we’ll have fresh cheese.” Captain Eli took a ladle of the proffered milk.
Nicci declined, but the wizard was happy to taste it. He smacked his lips after he drank. The cook offered milk to the surly wishpearl divers, but they scowled at the bucket, focusing their glares on Nicci.
“She might have poisoned it,” said Rom.
Hearing this, Nicci decided to drink from the ladle after all.