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"Oh, aye, I'll do that. These are trying times." Blackbeard grinned, a rictus that exposed most of his teeth. "You were disobeying the orders."
Davies grinned back. "Unlike what you'd have done, of course."
"Hah." The giant looked around at the crowd, which was more or less separated into three groups - the three ships' crews. "Who else is - " He paused abruptly and stared at his own wide-cuffed sleeve, all expression leaving his dark face. The men nearby drew back, muttering cantrips, though Hurwood and Friend leaned forward and stared.
Shandy stared too, though not eagerly, and thought for a moment he saw the cuff twitch, and a faint puff of smoke curl out; then, very clearly, he saw a line of blood run down Blackbeard's two middle fingers and begin to drip off and fall to the sand. The pirate's long coat seemed to shiver, as though rats were running around underneath.
"Rum," the giant said in a voice both tense and quiet.
One of the men from the Carmichael's crew hurried forward with a jug, but Davies caught his collar and yanked him back. "Not just raw rum," Davies snapped. He took the jug, called for a cup, and after filling the cup he hurriedly uncorked his powder flask and shook a couple of handfuls of gunpowder into the drink. "Jack," he said. "A light, quick."
Shandy sprinted to the nearest fire and snatched up a stick with a flaming end, then hurried back to Davies, who was now holding the cup out away from himself, and he touched the blazing end of the stick to the cup's rim.
Instantly it was flaming and bubbling, and Davies took it to Blackbeard. Shandy thought he saw something like a little featherless bird clinging to Blackbeard's hand, but he was distracted by the sight of the huge pirate tilting his head all the way back and then simply inverting the fiery cup over his open mouth.
For a moment it seemed that his entire head had caught fire; then as quick as it had appeared the blaze was out, leaving just the dim corona of lit match-cords, and a puff of churning, redly luminous smoke hung over his head - and as soon as Shandy noticed its resemblance to a rage-contorted face, it was gone.
"Who's going with us?" Blackbeard asked harshly.
"Me and my quartermaster here, Jack Shandy," said Davies briskly, "and Bonnett and Hurwood, of course, and probably Hurwood's apprentice, Leo Friend, he's that fat boy there ... and Hurwood's daughter."
People were looking at Shandy, though Blackbeard wasn't yet, so Shandy didn't let his astonishment show - but he was angry that Davies hadn't told him Beth would be coming along into the swamp, for Davies had described to him the journey they were going to make tonight through the perilous marshes, and, evidently even more perilous, the "magical balancing point" they sought, way back in the nearly impenetrable fastnesses of primeval ooze and loathesomely adapted creatures, and he couldn't imagine bringing Beth Hurwood along.
"Your quartermaster," Blackbeard rumbled, absently crushing the cup. "What became of Hodge?"
"He was killed when we escaped from the Navy man-of-war," Davies said. "Shandy accomplished that escape."
"Caught some news of that," Blackbeard said thoughtfully. "Shandy - step forward."
Shandy did, and the huge pirate-king turned his gaze on him, and Shandy felt buffeted by the sheer impact of the man's undivided attention. For a moment Blackbeard just stared down mto his eyes, and Shandy felt his face heating up, for he could almost feel the closets and cupboards of his mind being opened and their contents being appraised.
"I see there was more aboard the Vociferous Carmichael than we knew," the giant said quietly, almost with suspicion. Then, more loudly, he said, "Welcome to the world, Shandy - I can see that Davies picked the right man."
"Thank you, sir," Shandy found himself saying. "Though don't ... I mean, it wasn't all quite ... "
"It never is. Prove yourself tonight when we reach the Fountain ... and though we travel with Baron Samedi and Maitre Carrefour, stand on your own feet." He turned away then, and Shandy, feeling as if he'd just stepped out of glaring sunlight into shade, heaved a sigh and let his constricted psyche spring back out to its normal extent.
Incoming waves had first half filled Blackbeard's boat but then nudged it up into the shallows, and several sailors had begun to unload a large box from the craft, awkwardly because of their reluctance to get near the stiffly motionless boatman. The pirate-king spat in disgust and strode away to oversee the work.
Shandy turned around and almost bumped into the imposing belly of Davies' bocor, Woefully Fat. A night for giants, Shandy thought as he tried to peer around the bulky sorceror. "Excuse me," he said before remembering that the bocor was supposed to be deaf, "have you seen Phil? Uh, Captain Davies? Oh hell, that's right, you can't hear, can you? So why am I ... " The intensity of the bocor's stare made him stop jabbering. Why can't these people give these looks to somebody else, Shandy thought with a shiver, or each other?
Unlike Blackbeard, who had seemed vaguely suspicious of Shandy, Woefully Fat stared down at him with evident doubt - almost with disappointment, as though Shandy were a bottle of expensive wine that someone might have left out too long in direct sunlight.
Shandy gave the sorceror a nervously polite smile, then backed away and hurried around him. Davies, he saw now, was standing on the edge of the sand slope a few yards away, and Shandy plodded over there.
Davies saw him, grinned, and then nodded down toward Blackbeard. "A powerful man, eh?"
"God knows," Shandy agreed, not smiling. "Listen, Phil," he went on quietly, "you never told me Beth Hurwood was coming along into the swamps with us."
Davies raised his eyebrows. "Didn't I? Perhaps not - probably because it's none of your concern."
Shandy thought the older man was speaking a little defensively and that alarmed him even more. "What do they mean to do with her?"
Davies sighed and shook his head. "Frankly, Jack, I'm not certain - though I do know they're anxious to keep her from all harm. Some higher magic, I gather."
"Having to do with Hurwood's dead wife."
"Oh, certainly that," Davies agreed. "As I told you on the Jenny, the hope of getting her back is all that keeps the old boy moving."
