The Dreaming: Dark Star (Book 5)

4.2. Trouble (Liran)

Liran arrived at the boat, climbed aboard and headed straight across the deck to Ithabar's cabin, up the port-side stairs at the aft. He passed the First Mate coming down the stairs and nodded respectfully. The mate gave Liran a cold nod, but stared straight ahead.

Liran wondered what had happened to make the First Mate angry. Ithabar had chartered the ship a few moons ago, greasing the wheels by paying for much needed repairs. The captain and the engineer were happy, but it pissed the crew off as they were hostage to Ithabar's whims, and Ithabar wasn't an easy man.

Everyone knew that Ithabar was doing something illegal, but no one knew exactly what. Not even Liran, exactly. Sephram probably knew.

Liran looked out at the water on the port side, facing the sea. There was no wind, and the water and the boat were calm, unlike Liran's mind. He passed two hands working on the sails, sewing on large patches in the shade under the breezeway, which was a good thing as they would be needing the sails in the next few hours.

The Aklavik police had made it clear — get out of town. And somehow, they knew about Ithabar. They'd said, "Your crew" in English. Old-style English, which was Ithabar's language. Liran didn't know anyone else who spoke it, except the Iddys, but Liran had never met one of them. Not yet anyway, although Ithabar had promised Liran he'd get Liran into the City in one year, and that had been four moons ago. Only nine more to go.

But Liran wasn't sure anymore. He needed to stop this, get out of the contract, but he didn't get the impression it was that easy.

He took the stairs two by two and was about to knock at the door when he saw it was ajar — there were people inside.

"You must be very discrete," he heard Ithabar say. "No one must find out, or we will never be invited back to these towns again."

Liran cringed — Ithabar was going to kill him for messing this up. The Great Aklavik was the crown jewel of the North Coast, and Ithabar stopped here twice annually.

He peeked his head in and saw new recruits sitting at Ithabar's desk. Two older teens, Liran's age, a young man and a woman. The man would be a good runner — he was lean yet muscular. The girl was probably going to end up like all of Ithabar's girls, which was in Ithabar's bed. But first she'd probably be his production assistant.

Ithabar was going through the drill. "...And if you're caught, you're on your own. Don't come crying — you'll regret it. I'll watch you hang in the town square with the rest of us. You can smoke your profits or fill your pockets — that's your choice, but you must always bring nine of ten pieces to me." Ithabar paused, taking a pull off his pipe. He was a large, handsome businessman, or at least that's how he liked to present himself. "Remember," Ithabar finally continued, "If you smoke your profits, don't come crying. Nine of ten pieces you bring to me. If not, I'll see to it that you and your family disappear forever."

Ithabar stopped and nodded at Liran, standing at the door.

Liran returned the nod and closed the door. He leaned against it and closed his eyes, feeling his head thudding in his chest. Ithabar is going to kill me for getting us kicked out of Aklavik, he thought.

Finally, Ithabar was finished and the kids filed out and down the stairs. The young woman was younger than Liran thought — maybe more like sixteen or seventeen, and the boy was older, in his twenties. Liran wondered where Ithabar had found them.

Ithabar came out and put his arm on Liran's shoulder, his pipe in his other hand. "My son," he said warmly, clearly assuming the job had gone well. Then he called out to a hand, "Take these two and feed them, and give them bunks."