The Black Lung Captain - By Chris Wooding Page 0,99

Jez's limp and dangling hands. 'After all, she took an arrow through this palm not two weeks past, and it's good as new.'

Frey didn't like the knowing tone in his voice.

'It'd be terrible to lose someone who reads the wind as well as she does,' Grist said. 'She put us right on top of the Delirium Trigger, flying blind. That's something special.'

'She's a talented woman,' said Frey.

Grist held her wrist for a moment, then turned to Frey with an expression of mock surprise. 'Why, Cap'n. She don't have a pulse. I reckon she's dead!'

Frey had had enough. 'We're taking her to the infirmary.' He tried to leave, but Grist blocked him with a calloused and smoke-yellowed hand.

'Whoa, there, Cap'n. Aren't you forgettin' somethin'?' His gaze drifted to the sphere, cradled in Frey's arm. He had that hungry look again.

'I'll hold on to this,' said Frey. 'Just until we sell it. Fifty-fifty, remember, partner?'

Crattle and the other men raised their pistols.

'Oh, I don't think it's gonna work that way,' said Grist.

Bess growled and stirred, but Crattle's pistol was trained on Crake. He primed the hammer with a click. 'Tell your beast if it makes a move, you'll have a chestful of lead,' the bosun said.

'She gets it,' said Crake, holding up his hands. 'Don't you, Bess?' Bess subsided with a rustle of leather and chain mail. A sinister singsong echoed up from deep within her. It sounded like a threat.

Frey stared at Grist hard. He'd seen it coming. Seen it coming, and been unable to do a damned thing about it. His men were hopelessly outnumbered by the Storm Dog's crew. He should never have got tangled up with this man. He should have listened to sense and turned his back after Grist killed Hodd.

'What is the sphere?' he asked. 'What is it, really?'

Grist just grinned. 'It's mine,' he said. He held out his hand. When Frey was still reluctant to give it up, he said, 'Wouldn't be wise to make me ask again.'

Frey offered him the sphere, bitterly. That little ball of black metal, its surface marked with swirling curves and arcs of silver. The cause of all his trouble. He'd gone through so much to get that thing, and then to reclaim it, and he still didn't know what it was.

Do you know what would happen if it fell into the wrong hands?

Thousands will die.

Grist took it. Lightning flickered and thunder boomed. He narrowed his eyes and looked at Frey, rain dripping from his heavy brow. Then he pulled out his pistol from his belt and levelled it at Frey.

'A smart man don't leave his enemies behind to take revenge,' he said.

Frey thumbed at Bess. 'A smart man would realise that us being alive is the only thing stopping that eight-foot monster from putting her arm down your throat and pulling your guts out through your mouth.'

Grist looked Bess up and down. 'Aye. You make a good point.' He motioned towards Jez with the barrel of his gun. 'But we'll be takin' your navigator, if you don't mind.'

'What do you want her for?' Frey asked, then remembered to add, 'Besides, she's dead.'

'I think we both know that she ain't as dead as she seems, Cap'n Frey,' said Grist. 'Don't we?'

How does he know that? Frey thought. But he never got the chance to ask. There was a short shriek of incoming artillery, and then a terrific blast, big enough to light up the night and make Frey stumble with the concussion.

'The Delirium Trigger!' someone shouted. 'She's back!'

Grist swore loudly. 'That mad bloody whore! Don't she know when she's beaten?'

The crew of the Storm Dog fled back towards their craft as the Delirium Trigger sank through the clouds, her remaining guns firing at the grounded Storm Dog. Geysers of soil rained down on the scattering Awakeners. The earth shivered with the force of the detonations.

'Your navvie!' Grist said, snarling. He was no longer quite so jovial as he thrust his pistol at Silo. 'Give her over. Now!'

Silo just stared at him and made no attempt to move.

'You got what you came for,' Frey said. Grist took a step towards her, but Frey put his hand on his chest to stop him. Grist stared at the hand, and then at Frey, in amazement.

'Dead or alive, she's one of my crew, Grist. You're not having her.'

Grist was almost quivering with fury. 'Cap'n!' said his bosun. 'There's no time!'

Grist looked over at Bess, then back at Frey. There was raw hatred in his