This is a fan translation of The Treasure of the Kapitana (Сокровище «Капудании») by the Russian science fiction and fantasy author Vladimir Vasilyev.
I claim no rights to the contents herein.
Chapter 23
Ralph Kingfisher, the waters, temporary island near Tendra, summer of 864
There was no telling how long Prince Alexander and the leader of the skeletons from the ghost ship were going to keep arguing. Ralph kept wanting to whisper to the prince that time was running out, and the cargo from the Kapitana needed to be quickly moved over to the Queen Svenja, otherwise the raised piece of land would start to slowly and then gradually faster submerge again until it once again rested under the waters of Yahorlyk Bay.
But then another actor appeared on the scene.
"Listen, Alexander!" came from above, from the ghost ship.
The voice was female.
Everyone but the black-clad figures lifted their heads, trying to make out who was interrupting the conversation.
"You need gold? Then take it! Load it into your ship!"
"By the St. Aurelius, who is it that I see?" the prince muttered after finally getting a good look.
"We're losing time," Almea Socrates said, removing a hijab from her face. "Will someone help me get down?"
The hijab! Ralph felt as if stung by a bee. He quickly made his way to Alexander and started whispering into his ear, "Alex! Remember when we were discussing the first appearance of these… ghosts in Amasra? There was something wrong there."
The prince nodded and stared at Kingfisher inquisitively.
"The fight between the skeletons and the bodyguards was a performance, I'm telling you! Almea was wearing a hijab, just like she is now. Good luck trying to keep it intact when you're being dragged forcefully!"
The thought made sense. Ralph definitively recalled that Almea hadn't looked disheveled back then, which would have happened had she been seriously dragged into a side alley.
"Indeed," Alexander muttered. "Nice job, Ralph… A bit too late to remember that, but still."
Meanwhile, Almea managed to make her way from the deck to the sand.
"Well then," the prince stated, once again addressing the leader of the black figures. "I have every reason to suspect that you, Kapudan Pasha, and your crew no longer fear death. But there are still far more of us. Even if some of my soldiers are killed, your imperishable crew will still be crushed and trampled underfoot. Don't you agree?"
"There are fewer of us," the leader of the skeletons replied. "But our strength is not in numbers, little prince."
"From what I can tell, gold is of secondary interest to you," Alexander suggested.
The Kapudan Pasha did not reply. But his unexpected ally did, "What about you, Your Highness?" Almea bowed her head gracefully. "What is really of interest to you? You were doing such a thorough job of trying to be incognito that only a lazy person didn't know that the youngest prince of Albion had arrived to Kerkinitis."
"I'm interested in the Kapitana," the prince answered calmly. "And everything on board."
"Then why don't we go see what's there?" Almea made an inviting gesture. "After all, there's enough treasure there for everyone. Can we not agree without a fight? Or is making agreements not in the habit of Albionian princes?"
"I'm not going to speak for all the princes," Alexander remained majestically calm, at least outwardly. "But I am personally prepared to reach an agreement."
"Bravo, Alexander!' Almea said cheerfully. "Sitting in a tower truly does have a positive effect on Albionian princes. If you'll forgive my directness…"
She's a beast, that one! Alexander thought with a measure of admiration. She's being insolent and not afraid to do it! Not in the least! I wonder why. Is that because she's working with these dead people?
Naturally, Ralph couldn't know the prince's thoughts, but he did remember how the skeletons and the Kapudan Pasha retreated at the sight of his unhappy cassat.
Maybe now the presence of my friend will also have the same effect.
Ralph sidled out from the crowd that had swayed and regrouped to put the prince, the Kapudan Pasha with his crew, Almea, and the guards headed by the silent Judah in front. The guards were covering Alexander, not allowing a single soul, either living or dead, to approach him. Not even Almea.
The procession started towards the recent dig site, their feet sinking into the partly dry sand. There, in a thick double line, stood Albioniain regulars, unambiguously keeping their hands on the handles of their swords. A little to the side stood the sailors from the Queen Svenja and the hired divers. The latter were staring wide-eyed at what was happening and grabbing the amulets on their necks.
Naturally, the cassat sensed that Kingfisher needed him and hurried towards him. That didn't mean that he ran like crazy. The cassat simply appeared from the hatch on the upper fashta and arrived to the prova.
Ralph crouched, putting himself at the same height as the cassat. He embraced him, looked into his eyes, and pressed his cheek to the furry head.
I understand, the cassat let him know without words. Let's go. And don't be afraid.
Ralph glanced at his friend again and saw that his eyes were calm and bottomless. And even slightly cheerful. That meant that everything really was going as well as it possibly could.
Just in case, Ralph checked to make sure his knife was still in his right boot.
"Let's go," Ralph said, rising and jumping onto the parapet, and then onto the gangway/asigut, which the Albionians were stubbornly calling a ramp.
The prince, Almea, and the skeletons had already disappeared inside the dug out Kapitana. Ralph barely managed to elbow his way through the crowd; but closer to the half-rotted remains people started to part in front of him and the cassat, occasionally even shouting to the ones ahead of them to let the shtarkh through.
The soldiers had remembered the word "shtarkh" well, unlike the sailors, who kept stubbornly calling Kingfisher either a pilot or a navigator.
Ralph got there just in time.
"…won't beat around the bush, little prince. Who else but me knows what was stored on the Kapudana? There and there you're not going to find anything but tarnished coins and gold trinkets with stones."
It was the leader of the skeletons speaking, of course.
It wasn't that the Kapitana was lying on an even keel (or what was left of it), there was still a tilt to port. But it was very minor. While the hull of the ship had been wasted by time, if one recalled how long it had been underwater and in the sand, she had been preserved miraculously well. If Ralph didn't know for certain that the Turkish flagship had sunk before the catastrophe, he'd have decided that she'd been at the bottom for thirty-six years at most.
The few who dared to come down were now under the second fashta, closer to the pupa, probably near the officer chambers.
The stern of the Kapitana was preserved better — the prova had been mangled by an explosion, which was why the ship had sunk in the first place. But the most valuable had been traditionally kept closer to the quarterdeck.
"Damn it, stop calling me little!" Alexander finally said indignantly. "I won't argue that my bones are younger than yours, and my flesh is better preserved than yours—"
"All right, I'll stop. Especially since we're here," the Kapudan Pasha replied in a suddenly amenable tone. "See this door?"
"I'm not blind," Alexander grunted, clearly unhappy that he was being treated like a young pup.
"Do you know what's behind it?"
The prince thought for a moment, glancing at the remains of huge barrels along both sides of the door.
"A powder magazine?" he suggested uncertainly. "The aft one. I see the fore one blew up…"
"Good!" the leader of the skeletons nodded in approval. "You know some things about old ships. Enter! Don't worry, any gunpowder in there went damp back in the ancient times."
Alexander hesitated by the door, then looked back and beckoned for Ishmael Judah.
The head of the guards approached, glanced first at the door, then at the prince.
Then he reached out and pressed lightly on the door.
The door creaked plaintively under his hand. Ralph wondered if wood that had spent centuries underwater could even creak. Still, the sound spread to the surroundings of the magazine, so Kingfisher decided not to be surprised by anything anymore. The Kapitana already seemed like something impossible, both by its survival to modern day and by the secrets she held in her cargo holds and cabins.
The door didn't give in, so Judah pressed harder.
He was a strong man, so the hinges didn't resist for long. The slimy wooden rectangle fell into the magazine room, revealing a short and narrow doorway. It was dark inside.
At first.
Someone behind them was already asking for a torch, but the Kapudan Pasha objected, "No need for a torch!"
Then he did something. Ralph wasn't able to make out clearly what it was; at first it looked as if the skeleton wrapped in the black cloak simply stretched out his left arm (the one not holding a saber) and made a strange gesture with his bony hand, either trying to grab something he'd dropped or trying to push away an unseen barrier.
At the same moment, the cassat pressing himself to Kingfisher's hip purred briefly. It wasn't a warning or a surprise purr, more like an expression of impatience.
The walls were filled with a deathly blue glow, the same one that, according to stories, sometimes enveloped the ghost ship. Undoubtedly, it was that non-living light that Alexander had noticed the previous night, assuming it to be a signal. Even if they were signals, the Kapudan Pasha had been making the shabby wood of his ghost ship glow.
"Well, why are you standing there?" the Kapudan Pasha hurried the prince. "You've been trying to find the Kapudana so hard, and now you're hesitating in the doorway? Your most important treasure is here, you can be sure of that. Enter, don't be afraid!"
"I'm not," Alexander muttered, but not very confidently.
But he did enter the magazine room, followed by Judah with a pair of his largest guards, the Kapudan Pasha, and Almea; the guards remaining outside simply blocked the entrance, parting only to allow the cassat and Ralph through. Not that the cramped room would've allowed anyone else to fit inside.
It was damp but not musty inside; there was the sharp smell of the sea and a little of rot. A pile of some kind was in the corner, likely a pyramid of powder barrels in the past. An even layer of rusty cannonballs was in another. There weren't many of them, maybe two dozen. After all, the Kapitana had sunk after a long and bloody battle, which meant that the vast majority of the cannonballs had been shot at the enemy vessels.
There were also three chests by the far wall, Unlike the rest of the contents of the ship, they remained relatively intact, with only their natural color having faded over time.
Ralph felt the tension in the air.
It was the key moment of their hunt for the treasure of the Kapitana, the moment of truth, when the actions of a few people would decide the fate of many countries and peoples. Kingfisher didn't know where this sudden conviction had come from. But the others were also feeling something unspoken but tangible.
Alexander, Almea, Ralph, plus Judah and the guards, froze.
The Kapudan Pasha proclaimed loudly and clearly, "These chests hold what each of you has been fighting for. Life, power, and knowledge. All that's left is for you to choose what you intend to touch first."
"Me first!" Almea immediately took a step forward. "After all, I made an agreement with you, Kapudan, before the others! Am I not worthy to choose first?"
"That's fair," the leader of the skeleton did not object. "You made it your mission to come here and were persistent and consistent in achieving it. Choose!"
"Hold on!" the prince intervened. "My father, King Terence of Albion, needs life and health. And he will get them, no matter what you think about that!"
Well-well! Ralph was amazed, forgetting that he'd promised himself to stop feeling surprised a few minutes earlier. Alex is talking as if he's consciously taking part in this strange and ridiculous game! In this incredible play, the conclusion of which we have finally reached! It seems he hasn't told me much about his own thoughts and aspirations…
And it would've been strange if he had. He had to accept that the short "de" in front of his last name was too insignificant a reason to make a prince of the blood treat him as an equal. Even one whose head would never bear the crown.
"Life and health can be given to your father by both power and knowledge just as easily," the Kapudan Pasha shrugged his bony shoulders. "Multiple paths lead to the same goal. Almea will choose first, and you second."
Ralph thought that the glowing of the bulkheads and the ceiling grew noticeably brighter. Plus he had a feeling that some powerful forces were present nearby. Like an echo of the elements to which he'd called out many times in the Euxinian waters. The air grew denser and more viscous, while the cassat's fur stood on end and started to crackle weakly.
Almea hesitated for several seconds, then indicated the chest on the left, "I choose this one!"
At that moment, the lid of the chest flew open with loud bang on its own; Alexander jerked in surprise. The guards outside the door swayed slightly, as if intending to leap away, but then remembered their place and remained standing. A weak green smoke floated out from the chest, spreading gradually through the room. Almea peered inside greedily, like cheapskate heir who'd finally managed to get his hands on his uncle's vault.
"But it's empty!" she said in a moment later and stared at the leader of the skeletons in confusion, but he seemed to lose all interest in the daughter of the Viceroy of Galita, focusing his attention on Alexander.
"Your turn, Prince! You came here from afar, following the call of duty, not out of self-interest. Now you choose."
"What did she choose?" Alexander nodded in Almea Socrates's direction. "Life?"
"We'll find out soon. Choose, time is short!"
Alexander took an uncertain step forward, his eyes switching between the two remaining chests. It was strange seeing him this uncertain.
"This one!" he exhaled, indicating the chest on the right.
A loud bang, an open lid, and smoke. Red one this time.
Alexander quickly looked inside the chosen chest. Based on his dejected look, it was also empty.
Kingfisher didn't hesitate for a moment that the Kapudan Pasha himself would look inside the third chest, but he was mistaken. The cloaked skeleton turned to him, Ralph Kingfisher, and indicated the suddenly timid shtarkh with his saber, "Well, speaker with the elements? Your turn!" came from inside the wrapped keffiyeh.
"Me?" Ralph managed to squeeze out. "But I—"
"You came here by another's will," the Kapudan Pasha interrupted him. "Came here and brought others. But your loyalty and your skills always serve others and not you. Nothing would have worked without you, so you choose as well, for you are worthy."
It seemed there was no other way. He'd have to take part in this still incomprehensible play. Ralph gathered his courage, took a deep breath, and stepped hesitantly toward the remaining chest.
"I don't think there's really a choice," Ralph managed a weak smile. "There's only one chest left."
"There is always a choice, even if it doesn't seem like there is one," the Kapudah Pasha countered. "Now you are free to choose or not to choose. Your choice is also a choice. Decide."
Ralph looked back at the others: Alexander, Almea, the cassat. It wasn't that he couldn't make a decision. In fact, he'd already made it back when he swore to serve a Moreau prince. But he needed this look, badly, at that very moment.
"Well, shtarkh?" Almea shouted impatiently.
"Go on, my friend!" Alexander encouraged him.
The cassat simply looked into his eyes, meaningfully, as always. Now his gaze was saying, "No matter what you choose, I'm with you."
I'm guess I'm in this play after all, Ralph thought. Maybe I really am no worse than the other characters.
"I choose this one!" Kingfisher indicated the chest in the middle.
The smoke rising from the third chest had a bluish hue.
"Let it be so," the Kapudan Pasha proclaimed. "The people of the world have made their choice! Aebb!"
He threw his hands up, making his saber pierce the decayed ceiling of the room and come out a deck above. Ralph could see it clearly because the bulkheads, and the rest of the Kapitana's hull were glowing with the dull witch fire that also made them translucent. Somewhere overhead, clearly visible through two decks, a blinding white ball condensed quickly out of thin air, with the colorful smoke from the chests rising towards it. A moment later, three white lightning bolts rose from the waters of the bay around the island and struck the sky with a deafening thunder. At that moment, the ball lost its cohesion and started expanding rapidly while simultaneously losing its brightness. An all-encompassing ghostly wave spread from the point where it had been floating over the Kapitana. It spread out, then vanished.
"Holy crap!" one of the Judah's guards boomed in amazement.
Then the ground underfoot shuddered, as the island Ralph had recently raised started to submerge slowly into the waters of the bay.