Clash of the Sky Galleons by Paul Stewart, Chris Riddell Read Free Book Online

leagues such as cage-forgers, sail-spinners, rope-teasers, clinkers and corkers, welders and weighters … All the trades needed to build a sky ship.
    ‘By forming into leagues, they believed they could control everything, but they forgot one thing. Each other!’
    Wind Jackal paused for a moment to let the words sink in.
    ‘Every league competes with every other league,’ he went on, his voice low and scathing, ‘whatever fine words the leaguesmasters utter about “sticking together” and “the common good”! They just can’t help themselves. No league ever misses an opportunity to get one over on its rivals - but they can’t ever be seen to be doing it. Oh, no! That wouldn’t do at all. Which is why they need us, Quint, my son.’
    Quint nodded. ‘Sky pirates,’ he breathed.
    ‘Aye, lad,’ Wind Jackal agreed. ‘Free and unbowed and answerable to no leaguesmaster in a ridiculous high hat.’ He sneered. ‘Of course, they hate us and try to stop our ships and seize our cargoes, but at the same time, they need us to do their dirty work - such as raid their rivals’ league ships or disrupt one another’s trade.
    ‘No leaguesmaster - high or low - would ever admit it, but without sky pirates to carry out their nasty little underhand practices and take the blame, the Leagues of Undertown would descend into open warfare. And that, Quint, my son, would be bad for business! Which brings me back to Turbot Smeal, greatest quartermaster of them all.’
    Wind Jackal shook his head and gazed out over the rooftops of the sleeping city. Quint’s mouth was dry, and there was an uneasy fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach.
    ‘Turbot Smeal … Turbot Smeal…’ Wind Jackal’s voice dripped with hatred as he spoke the quartermaster’s name. ‘I was a young sky pirate captain putting my first crew together when he sought me out. Said we would be good together. And although, even back then, his small yellow eyes and bleached complexion made me shudder, there was something he had to offer. He had useful contacts in the leagues all over Undertown. There seemed to be no swindle or underhand deal that Turbot Smeal wouldn’t get wind of - no one he couldn’t flatter or deceive to get a better deal or gain an advantage.
    ‘Almost as soon as we teamed up, Turbot kept the Galerider busy, and the profits began rolling in. I made sure Garum Gall, my right hand, kept a close eye on Turbot, and even credited myself with curbing some of the loathsome quartermaster’s worst excesses. Slave-trading, for example. Turbot Smeal knew, no matter what the profit, that I would never, ever deal in slaves. But timber, fine pelts and Deepwoods goods of every kind - we shipped them all and, thanks to Turbot’s contacts, the leagues left us alone.
    ‘Of course, there was a price to pay. There always is, with the leagues. The price was to accept commissions from different leagues when the occasion warranted it, to raid their rivals’ ships. And we were good at it. There wasn’t a league ship in the sky that would dare to take on the Galerider in a fair fight.
    ‘We grew richer. I met and married your mother, Hermina, and a year later our first son, Lucius, was born, followed by Centix, then Murix, and Pellius and Martilius. And, last but not least, you, Quintinius …’ The trace of a smile flickered across his face. ‘We moved to the opulent palace in the Western Quays - and life was good. I counted myself the luckiest person alive …
    ‘At the same time, my old friend Linius Pallitax was prospering also, his career in Sanctaphrax going from strength to strength. Together we actually thought we might be able to change the way things were done in the two cities - reform the leagues and academies and bring Undertowners and academics closer together.’ He laughed bitterly. ‘What fools we were …’
    ‘Not fools,’ said Quint fiercely. ‘Just unlucky…’

    ‘Aye, son, perhaps you’re right,’ said Wind Jackal. ‘And yet