In the next three lots they found one woman – Hasrin – nearly as tall as him and one of the few to look him in the eye. She had been a deckkeeper herself, and when he asked her crime she was cagey, dancing round the subject and refusing to meet his gaze. He was going to pass over her, but Meas was standing behind the line, scrutinising the prisoners from the rear, and she gave him a nod. So, despite him feeling it was a mistake, Hasrin joined the crew.
The heat built up, his new boots and clothes rubbed, the quality of the prisoners got no better. Joron started to long for the drink he had denied himself. But a glance behind him at the bowed, guilt-broken, Hag-cursed form of Muffaz helped stop him reaching for the flask at his side. Meas had given up, gone to the rail to stare over the sea and no doubt fret about how she would complete her mission, any mission, without crew. All seemed lost before it had begun.
The next in line was a small man, and unlike the rest looked barely broken at all by his experience of the hulk. He had a huge smile, and if the eyeburn on his bald scalp bothered him he did not show it.
“And what is your crime?”
“I punched my officer, D’keeper.” He seemed inordinately pleased about it. Before Joron could ask any more he heard Meas’s boots on the deck as she strode over and spun the man around.
“Mevans?”
“Ey, Shipwife.”
“What are you doing here?”
“As I said to the deckkeeper” – he grinned, showing a full set of teeth – “I punched my shipwife.”
“I told you to serve well.”
“Ey, you did. And when I heard you were moved to a ship of the dead, well, seemed obvious that where you go, I should.”
“Mevans,” she said, “I should have you corded for disobeying me. You will die, that is all that awaits anyone on my ship.”
“Hag comes for us all, Shipwife,” he replied, his jollity not even touched by the reminder of mortality. “Besides, for what she did, Shipwife Kyrie needed a punch.”
“You’re a fool.”
“Oh aye, and not the only one. Cosst, Mebal, Tarnt – they’re all here too. Fair queueing up to punch your sither, they were.”
“Fools!” But Meas could not hide the smile on her face. She stood straighter and shouted, “Those here who were once my crew, stop hiding yourselves and step forward.” About fifteen women and men stepped out of the line further down, which made Joron wonder again what type of woman Meas was that so many would walk into certain death just to be with her.
“Well,” she said, a harshness coming back into her voice, “you may join my crew, but consider each and every one of you demoted to deckchild for such stupidity.” They walked over to join the small group bound for Tide Child, and if they felt sore about being demoted they managed to smile through it. Only Mevans stayed where he was, bobbing his head and grinning. “Is there a reason you remain here, Deckchild Mevans?” said Meas. “Do you disobey because you have changed your mind? For it strikes me as a bit late to do that.”
“No Shipwife, never. Where you go I go. ’Tis only . . .” His voice tailed off.
“Only?”
“The old woman, you must have seen her earlier. Seems a little strange. She has been here a long time.”
“It has broken her mind.”
“No, Shipwife, she has the Hag’s spirit in her.”
“You have adopted another broken soul, Mevans. A fleet ship is not the place for—”
“She is lucky, Shipwife, she is. Her name is Garriya and she is lucky.”
Meas shook her head before turning to one of the seaguard.
“Bring back the old woman,” she said then turned back to Mevans. “At least tell me she can sew.”
“I do not believe so, Shipwife.” chuckled Mevans. “She’s no use for nothing. But she is lucky.”
Meas stared at him for what felt like a long time, then shook her head. “As well as the usual, Mevans, I need women and men for seaguard. Violent men and women, but ones with discipline.”
“Plenty of violence but little discipline on this ship.”
“You know those aboard this hulk well?”
Mevans nodded.
“Ey. I reckoned were only time till you turned up. Some of those you have turned down I reckon could be worked up. I have a list of their skills. Most are a bad lot, little more than stonebound, but there are those who will measure up.”
“Well, in that case you can free up Joron and I.” She leaned in and spoke quietly. “We need good crew, Mevans, and as many as you can get.”
“I shall find them for you,” he said.
Meas nodded but Mevans held her gaze.
“What?”
“There is one other thing.”
“Only one?”
“Well, ’tis one for us, by which I am meaning your crew. But come to think of it, it may also help you.”
“And what is it?”
“Black Orris.”
“Three women’s tits,” said Meas. “Black Orris? Really?”
“We cannot fly without Black Orris.”
“And where is Orris?”
“In the hands of Mulvan Cahanny. But, and this is the thing. I happen to know that Cahanny wishes to move some freight and he wishes it to be secret.”
“How can you know such a thing from aboard a hulk?”
“It is where they bring criminals, Shipwife, and some of my family may have passed through.”
“I am still a fleet shipwife, Mevans, not one of your criminal cousins here to help smugglers.”
“Ey, I know that. Only a ship of the dead . . . Different rules, that, ain’t it, Shipwife?”
“I am not a pirate.”
“’Tis just that Cahanny would send his people with this shipment, for I heard it is fair valuable, and his people, well, they are both violent and disciplined, which is what you are wishing for.”
“But they would not answer to me, Mevans.”
“Well, no, they would answer to Cahanny. But if he puts ’em under your command then they would be yours and you could ask for Black Orris in return. As payment, like.”
“If Orris’s mouth has not got him killed already.”
“Orris won’t be killed,” said Mevans, flashing a smile. “He’s lucky, see. Like you are.”
Meas took a step back.
“Seaguard,” she said. “This man, Mevans, now holds the rank of hatkeep. Obey him as you would obey me in his choice of crew.” She turned away. “Joron, we must go ashore.”
He nodded and stepped close. “Who is this Cahanny?”
“If a bone is stolen from the boneyard, or goods are smuggled in, or a body ends up in floating face down in the harbour, well, Cahanny is the man most likely behind it.”
After the miasma that surrounded the hulks it was almost a relief to be back in the stink of Fishmarket. The streets were busy, but Meas threaded her way through the throng as though the people were barely there. She had a natural grace, was always aware of her place and that of others in the world around her – part of what made her a good shipwife. In a sea fret or a heavy fog to have a constant idea where the enemy would be was an invaluable skill, like being able to hear the shoalsongs of the fish had made his father a successful fisher.