would help him decide. But she refused to show him anything. You're the Cap'n, Cap'n.
'Kurg,' he said to Grist. 'Monsters and beast-men. It's quite a risky business you're proposing.'
Grist puffed on his cigar. Pungent clouds surrounded his dirty, bearded face. He leaned forward, looming through the smoke with a yelow grin.
'Some things are worth riskin' everythin' for,' he said. He held out a rough-skinned, grubby hand across the table.
Frey stared at it for a long moment. Why not? It was better than being bored and poor the rest of his life. He held out his own hand. 'Fifty-five, forty-five.'
'Done, you thievin' son of a bitch!' Grist beamed, and clasped his hand in a crushing grip. 'Damn, but your men better pul their weight for that kind o' cut.' He glanced at Jez. 'And your women too, beggin' your pardon.' Then he slapped Hodd on the back and pointed at Frey. 'Now that's how you drive a hard bargain.'
Five
Crake's Daemons — Harkins Decides —
Pulp Fiction — Jez And The Manes
The crew took the news wel, with the exception of Harkins, who had to breathe into a paper bag for a while until his hysteria subsided. They had a few hours to make what preparations they could while they waited for Grist and his crew to sort themselves out. It was a day's flight to the coast and another half-day across the East Divide to Kurg. They'd be taking off as soon as everyone was ready. Grist was certainly in a hurry.he crew took the news wel, with the exception of Harkins, who had to breathe into a paper bag for a while until his hysteria subsided. They had a few hours to make what preparations they could while they waited for Grist and his crew to sort themselves out. It was a day's flight to the coast and another half-day across the East Divide to Kurg. They'd be taking off as soon as everyone was ready. Grist was certainly in a hurry.
Frey went to see Crake in his quarters after he addressed the crew. The daemonist had been silent throughout, and Frey wanted to pick his brains in private about the strange barrier on the door that Hodd had encountered.
Crake's quarters, like the others on the Ketty Jay , were cramped and spartan, with bare metal wals and a sliding door to maximise space. They'd previously been the passenger's quarters, but they didn't take passengers these days, so Crake had the luxury of two bunk beds to himself. He used the upper bunk to store luggage and books.
'So what do you think?' Frey asked. 'You think you could break that barrier?'
Crake was sitting on the lower bunk while Frey leaned against the wal. 'Can't say without being there,' he said. 'I need to take readings. We'l have to haul my equipment through the rainforest.' His tone was lazy, disinterested. Barely bothering to pronounce his words properly.
'Can Bess do it?'
Crake made a face. 'Bess shouldn't come. She's too big and too heavy for tramping around in that kind of terrain. She'd sink to her knees in the mud the first time it rained. Not to mention she'd knock over every tree on the way.'
Frey hadn't thought of that. He cursed under his breath. Having along would have been their most effective defence against the monsters that were rumoured to dwel in Kurg. 'Just give me a best guess, then. Does it sound like something you could crack? The barrier, I mean.'
'It sounds like something a daemonist would put up to keep people out,' said Crake. His words had degenerated into slurring. 'Pretty basic, actualy. Repulsion and nausea. But I won't know til we gel there. If it's some sort of unknown technology . . .' He shrugged. He made to get to his feet, but his hand slipped on the edge of the bunk and he flopped back down.
'Are you drunk?' Frey asked, surprised. It wasn't even midday.
Crake gave a guilty smile. 'Little bit,' he said. He reached under his bunk and puled out a bottle. 'Want some? Trade you for some Shine.'
'Shine?' Frey said stupidly.
'Shine. We al know you use it, Cap'n,' Crake said, with an insinuating wink.
'Once in
'Kurg,' he said to Grist. 'Monsters and beast-men. It's quite a risky business you're proposing.'
Grist puffed on his cigar. Pungent clouds surrounded his dirty, bearded face. He leaned forward, looming through the smoke with a yelow grin.
'Some things are worth riskin' everythin' for,' he said. He held out a rough-skinned, grubby hand across the table.
Frey stared at it for a long moment. Why not? It was better than being bored and poor the rest of his life. He held out his own hand. 'Fifty-five, forty-five.'
'Done, you thievin' son of a bitch!' Grist beamed, and clasped his hand in a crushing grip. 'Damn, but your men better pul their weight for that kind o' cut.' He glanced at Jez. 'And your women too, beggin' your pardon.' Then he slapped Hodd on the back and pointed at Frey. 'Now that's how you drive a hard bargain.'
Five
Crake's Daemons — Harkins Decides —
Pulp Fiction — Jez And The Manes
The crew took the news wel, with the exception of Harkins, who had to breathe into a paper bag for a while until his hysteria subsided. They had a few hours to make what preparations they could while they waited for Grist and his crew to sort themselves out. It was a day's flight to the coast and another half-day across the East Divide to Kurg. They'd be taking off as soon as everyone was ready. Grist was certainly in a hurry.he crew took the news wel, with the exception of Harkins, who had to breathe into a paper bag for a while until his hysteria subsided. They had a few hours to make what preparations they could while they waited for Grist and his crew to sort themselves out. It was a day's flight to the coast and another half-day across the East Divide to Kurg. They'd be taking off as soon as everyone was ready. Grist was certainly in a hurry.
Frey went to see Crake in his quarters after he addressed the crew. The daemonist had been silent throughout, and Frey wanted to pick his brains in private about the strange barrier on the door that Hodd had encountered.
Crake's quarters, like the others on the Ketty Jay , were cramped and spartan, with bare metal wals and a sliding door to maximise space. They'd previously been the passenger's quarters, but they didn't take passengers these days, so Crake had the luxury of two bunk beds to himself. He used the upper bunk to store luggage and books.
'So what do you think?' Frey asked. 'You think you could break that barrier?'
Crake was sitting on the lower bunk while Frey leaned against the wal. 'Can't say without being there,' he said. 'I need to take readings. We'l have to haul my equipment through the rainforest.' His tone was lazy, disinterested. Barely bothering to pronounce his words properly.
'Can Bess do it?'
Crake made a face. 'Bess shouldn't come. She's too big and too heavy for tramping around in that kind of terrain. She'd sink to her knees in the mud the first time it rained. Not to mention she'd knock over every tree on the way.'
Frey hadn't thought of that. He cursed under his breath. Having along would have been their most effective defence against the monsters that were rumoured to dwel in Kurg. 'Just give me a best guess, then. Does it sound like something you could crack? The barrier, I mean.'
'It sounds like something a daemonist would put up to keep people out,' said Crake. His words had degenerated into slurring. 'Pretty basic, actualy. Repulsion and nausea. But I won't know til we gel there. If it's some sort of unknown technology . . .' He shrugged. He made to get to his feet, but his hand slipped on the edge of the bunk and he flopped back down.
'Are you drunk?' Frey asked, surprised. It wasn't even midday.
Crake gave a guilty smile. 'Little bit,' he said. He reached under his bunk and puled out a bottle. 'Want some? Trade you for some Shine.'
'Shine?' Frey said stupidly.
'Shine. We al know you use it, Cap'n,' Crake said, with an insinuating wink.
'Once in
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