Free In Search of Spice by Rex Sumner Page B

bit back on what she wanted to say, inwardly furious the crown did not know of these raiders into the fiercely independent grasslands. She changed the subject. “Is Pat always the scout? Is he good?”
    “Never seen the like. We had a renegade elf we healed after a fight, stayed with us for five years. Said it was because of Pat. When he was just a little thing he used to take him into the woods and teach him about animals and God knows what else. Got him shooting arrows earlier than most, probably why he is so good. Only person I ever saw who could creep up on every animal around. He used to get into trouble when he was small, pinching cubs and the mamas would come after them. Funny though, he would always give them back to the mama and they never hurt him. Seemed like he could talk to them.”
    The subject of the conversation appeared in the light at the end of the street, nodded briefly at Mikkel and disappeared into the shadows. Mikkel kept them going.
    The moon and stars lit the docks almost as clear as daylight, but with plenty of deep shadow. Two sailors appeared and walked up the gangplank, while Pat slid up a stack of bales. He stiffened, seeing movement across the quay on another pile and relaxed as he realised it was Rat.
    The main group came up the quay and all went onto the ship. He slipped down and followed them aboard; Mot appeared from nowhere and went across the gangplank without hesitation.
    “Hang on a moment, let me check the cabin,” he hissed, and slipped to the fo’c’sle. Mot followed him in, her hackles shot up and she raced over to a hammock, growling fiercely. There was a commotion from the hammock, which twisted and a body was thrashing in it, hanging upside down with a face staring into Mot’s teeth, whereupon it froze.
    Others crowded in behind Pat and somebody lit a lantern, revealing a trickle of liquid coming from the hammock, and an acrid smell.
    Dan started to laugh.
    “Mot!” Pat said, “to me now. Friend.” Mot stopped growling, gave the girl a quick lick and sauntered back to Pat.
    “Bet you wish you had come with us for a drink now, Katie.” Dan cried, as the tension dissolved.
    Mikkel raised an eyebrow to Pat, who nodded.
    “Right,” he said, “if you folks are all happy and safe, we’ll tuck you into your hammocks and get back to some serious drinking. C’mon Dad, you’ve said your goodbyes, let’s get going.”
    “Not so fast,” said Sal, grabbing Rat by the hand as he came in. “These hammocks look loads of fun! Don’t you get any privacy?”
    “On a ship?” Sara cried, “you must be kidding. You could try right up the rigging though.”
    Pat was helping Katie out of her hammock and introducing her to Mot, not very successfully, as Mot was trying to help and Katie was still terrified and not sure if she was awake or asleep. Dan helped, less gently and she sprawled on the floor from where Linda pulled her up while Terri hugged Mot and spoke soothingly to Katie.
    Outside there was a noise and the sound of horses coming across the quay towards the ship. The gangplank creaked as the first feet stepped on it.
    Mikkel stiffened and stepped to the door, Dan and Pat right behind him with Sara slipping in front. There was a group of men coming up the gangplank, slowly and unsurely, clearly not sailors. A knife appeared in Mikkel’s hand, when Sara gripped it.
    “Soldiers” she breathed into his ear.
    They tensed. Pat slipped out of the door, picking up his war bow and quiver from the rack by the door and disappeared into the shadows with Mot at his heels, Rat half a second behind went the other way, knife glinting in the moonlight.
    “Ah, hello? Is anyone here?” came an uncertain voice from the group at the head of the gangplank, well spoken but with a hard tinge to it.
    There was a noise from the poop and a door opened, shedding some light onto the deck. The mate came out, swinging a lantern, revealing a group of about a dozen soldiers with a Lieutenant to the