The speech worked its magic exactly as intended. A holyman turned against them. What dedication he would be capable of? More importantly the man had no weakness. Bribes of wealth and flesh wouldn’t work on him. Only the Good Book might command his attention, and it was well known that Shann held the passages of punishment close to his heart. There would be no mercy. Within minutes the entire room was signing on to the war effort. The feast was a resounding success.
Then why do I feel defeated?
XLI
“We’re still having trouble with the food storages, Cap.”
Tolrep sighed. “Have you searched the ship, Gerald?”
“Seventeen times, Cap. Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Obviously, somebody missed something, or else we wouldn’t be having this little talk. Check the hold again.”
“Yes Cap.” The last word was stiff. Gerald had a pride as red as his hair, fierce to a fault and easily dented. Tolrep scrubbed his face with his hands. A week at sea and already a crisis loomed over their heads. Some captain I am. The privateer shrugged the doubt off him and returned to bed. Perhaps tomorrow would be better. Yeah. And if pigs breathed fire they’d be dragons.
The sunlight burned him awake at the dawn. Tolrep was twisting the cap off the morning wine when he did a double-take. “Jelina?”
There she was. Thirty pounds of stubborn little girl, curling into the blanket like a second womb. Tolrep just looked at her, caught halfway between indignation and revelation. The food storage. Rats. No not rats. Her. Hiding. For a week. Tolrep didn’t know if he felt pride at the girl’s survival or anger at this stupid act. “Jelina!”
The girl bolted up with luminous eyes. She checked the width of the room and frowned. “I won’t go back.” The bravery faltered a bit when fists hammered at the door.
“Cap! Cap are you all right?”
By all rights I should toss her overboard. “No, Ashnoi. Just a bad dream. I’ll be up in a moment.” Cuff her so hard her ear will look like cauliflower. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I didn’t want to go with those people.”
Tolrep pinched his sinuses. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? This isn’t the place for children! Those people were good! They would have cared for you, accepted you into their family! You’d never be in want for anything again! Why would you throw all that away?”
“I wanna be like you! I wanna be a pirate!”
“Oh no you don’t! Next port we make I’m dropping you off at a church.”
“I’ll run away again! I’ll sneak on board, and I’ll keep sneaking until you let me on your crew! And if you don’t I’ll hate you for the rest of my life!”
Tolrep wanted to scream. There was no guarantee that the church would hold onto her. And she was stubborn enough to deliver on her threat. Oh, she didn’t stand a chance at catching this boat, but she’d catch another, and who knows what that crew would do to her. The safest thing to do is to keep her close. “Dammit!” With a look that promised murder, Tolrep bade the girl to follow him. More than one pirate goggled at the sight of the little girl skipping around the captain’s feet and grinning like an idiot. “Jelina will be staying with us for a while,” announced the captain. “I expect you’ll remember that the next time something stupid happens.”
“What now?” Jelina tugged at Tolrep’s legging. “Do we start with swords? I like swords. Will you teach me?”
Tolrep’s head was spinning. “Why do you want to learn swordplay?”
“Every pirate knows how to use a sword.” Jelina said matter-of-factly. “I can’t be a pirate if I don’t know swordplay. When do we get started?”
Tolrep groaned. The girl was going to be more trouble than she was worth. “Callie!” The woman that heeded the call was in the prime of her years. She was a rarity; a wife that chose to brave the sea with her husband. All their children enjoyed other pursuits, and they had no trappings of civilized life to weigh them down.
“What you want, my captain?” Her tone was borderline defiant, though her face was as scrubbed clean as a temple virgin’s. Sarcasm seemed to be her weapon of choice. “You want to teach this child the sword?”
“I want Matty to teach me, not some old gnarled woman!”
Now Tolrep knew the terror of having their child be rude in front of friends and family. Only he couldn’t smack Jelina’s head; that only worked on boys. Tolrep offered a smile and shrug as apology and hoped that it would be enough.
Callie looked at the privateer, at the child, the privateer again, and finally threw her arms up in a sigh. “All right then. I’ll teach her the blade.”
“I want Matty!”
Tolrep fell to one knee and tried to keep his teeth from gnashing. “I don’t know the sword, Jelina. I can’t teach you.”
“You don’t know the sword? But every pirate knows the sword.”
“That’s in fairy-tales. I couldn’t tell one end of the weapon from the other. You’ll be in better hands with Callie. Her father was a fencing master.” Tolrep kept his glare on the girl, neutral but able to shift to harshness in a heartbeat. Silently Jelina went to Callie and followed her to the bow of the ship where their lessons began in earnest. Good. Now maybe I can get some peace and quiet. A grumble from the stomach reminded the privateer it had been hours since he’d eaten.
The mess hall was a dingy little square of tables and benches. Being in the ship hold, the space of the hall was pressed so tight than a man couldn’t breathe without sharing the air with the man at his shoulder. It was annoying, but there was no sign of discontent. Yet.
“Captain! Captain!” In rushed a boy whose face was as green as a pomegranate. There was more than one muffled snicker at the boy standing at attention when it was clear to all he was on the verge of vomiting. “Private Evan Hardy, reporting for duty, sir!”
“At ease.” Tolrep waved the youth to have a seat, and then growled the invitation at the horrifying indecision on the fool’s face. I don’t feel like a captain. Some things would go smoother with tradition followed, though. I’ll play along. “What is the matter, private?”
The private pulled a small length of parchment – undoubtedly from the claw of a messenger bird – from his tunic and pulled off the ribbon. “Just give it to me, private,” Tolrep said when the fool’s mouth opened. He intended to announce it to the whole damn crew. Tradition wasn’t worth a pinch of salt when paired with idiocy. “You’re excused, private.” He paused when the private remained stiff as a log of wood. “What are you doing?”
“You haven’t given me new orders, sir.”
Little more a wind-up toy, this one was. “Return to your previous post.” Tolrep had to turn away to hide his sneer. Only every eye in the room was pinned on him, now. The privateer ate the real of his meal without concern, and kept his head low so that he wouldn’t catch any of the amused grins burning him. Damn it all if I have to hide from my own crew. Feeling like a captain didn’t seem so bad now.
Once inside the safety of his cabin, Tolrep tore the letter open, read it and proceeded with the longest, most detailed rant of curses he had ever uttered. The wooden walls of the cabin failed to contain the extreme carnage within; many checked their ears for blood long afterward.
Commodore Cullen Nollof, squad leader of the Coicro’s Hand Faction, has been captured on the battle of Feymarch Plains two weeks prior by the Solvicar lieutenant Christopher Eclipse. Two days later an independent faction of Coicro stationed in the Veldt region retaliated in a raid on the Port of Three Kings. They have captured a Solvicar leader, one Robert Jekai. A hostage exchange has been negotiated. The privateer vessel Tennant has been chosen to retrieve Cullen from the Solvicar authorities at the Fe
ymarch and ship him to the exchange point at Foxhead Prime in a week’s time.
Cardinal Omeros, Lord of the Holy Church.
Damn it all. Tolrep crumpled the parchment and flung it at the cabin wall. Now it was the Solvicars that had him sitting on his hands. Hostage exchange? Retrieval of a single officer? It all smacked of child-tending; a chore for lowly greenlings. Still, an order was an order. “Tsukasa!”
The red man appeared out of thin air. “Yes Cap?”
“Change our heading. We’re going to the Feymarch.”
“Very well, sir.”
The week that followed were the most boring days of Tolrep’s life. Nothing but the endless blue of the sea, with only the sound of lapping water for company. More than one hand gripped their slings at the occasional seagull overhead, releasing hesitantly as the bird weaved its way around the stones flung in its direction. Fruit and fish paled against the notion of fresh meat. Tolrep made a show of command every once in a while, but by and large he caught up on some much-needed sleep.
He should have known it wouldn’t last.
“Captain? Captain I have need of you.”
It was a very particularly good dream too. “Come in.”
It was Callie. “Captain.”
“What’s on your mind?”
“It’s Jelina, sir. Such a young girl shouldn’t be allowed on a ship like this.”
“I am aware of that.” Tolrep pinched his sinuses. “What do you want me to do, Callie? I’ve already tried putting her in good hands, and she hid in our hold for a week with no one being the wiser. The only thing I can think of is to chain her to the hold, and that I will not do.” Sighing Tolrep waved the matter away. “Besides, she’ll not stir any trouble under your tutelage.”
“That’s just it, sir. I’ve taught her everything I know.”
Tolrep blinked. “That’s no kind of joke.”
“It isn’t a joke, Captain. The girl is a natural. She’s very observant and doesn’t make the same mistake twice. “I hafta get better,” she keeps saying. “I hafta protect Matty.”
“It’s been a week.”
“I am aware of that, Captain.”
Are you? Are you really? A true fencing master would have enough skill to teach for months. Years, even. And all this one could tote up was one week? It took a great deal of effort not to scream. “There are several people of race here. Certainly some of them are a master to some kind of fighting.”
“There are, Captain –”
“Then send her to them on the morrow. She wants to protect me? Then let her learn everything she can.”
“It would be best if you learned it from you, Captain.”
Did the women enjoy tempting her fate so brazenly? “Why is that?”
“If the girl continues at this pace she’ll burn out by week’s end. She’s doing this for you, and will stop at nothing to impress you.”
“She doesn’t need to impress me.”
“Daughters always want to impress their fathers.”
“Daughter? Father? We’re no such thing.”
“She’s a child, and you’re a man she adores. That’s all that matters.”
Tolrep scrubbed a sigh into open hands. “What advice do you give, oh wise and mighty sage?”
“Tell her she’s doing okay. Let her know she has limits. Praise her, if need be.”
“Praise her at the same time as telling her boundaries? That’s a contradiction if I ever heard one.”
Callie smiled wryly. “You haven’t been a parent, have you Captain?”
Tolrep dearly wished there was something inexpensive and unimportant to break. “Get to the point.”
“Teach her the sword.”
“I don’t know how.”
“I can teach you.”
“You are to teach me the very skill you are supposed to be teaching her. The very skill you say she’s mastered.”
“You set the conditions if you are the master. She’ll follow your example.”
This is insane. What exactly am I to teach her? How to stab your own foot? Tolrep’s temper was on the verge of shattering when Callie parted the door for a better view. Jelina was sitting on the ship’s bow, her sword drawn across her lap, daring the ocean to touch this ship. I must protect Matty, she said. And Callie’s words, rounding back on him. She’ll burn out by week’s end. “At night. When no one is watching.”
“Perfect captain.” Finally she turned to go, but she couldn’t help but one last remark. “Get your sleep, captain. You’re going to need it.”
My life is run by women. Gods be damned, I want to hit something.
The training proved more difficult than the privateer imagined. The mates would be casting hidden smiles for the rest of their lives if they got a whiff of what Tolrep was planning. So, the logical answer was to practice in the hold, away from prying eyes. Only Jelina lived in that hold. The task of training would lose its appeal if the girl discovered it prematurely. So it was that Tolrep found himself in the ship’s nether region, where the air was so clogged with salt it was impossible to breathe, raising a long, rubbery sword against a woman old enough to be his mother, who was whipping his ass all night. Time melted to nothingness.
Thus it was a tired Mathias Tolrep that docked the Tennant into the port of Feymarch. A full party was waiting for him; a squad of scholars with a large hooded man at their center. All at once the scholars began buzzing.
“You are two hours late. You were supposed to be here at oh-twelve hundred.”
“This ship is different than the plans we were shown. It might be inadequate.”
“So the stories are true. A multiethnic crew. Fascinating.”
Tolrep followed the scholars, smiling at their analysis, his offers to explain lost amidst the speed of their chatter. He saw his frustration clear as day on the faces of his crew, and strained to keep the false smile in place. At last they came to the hold.
“This will do.” From within their tunics the scholars pulled free hammers, manacles and chains, and quickly assembled the parts so that the prisoner was spread-eagled on the hold’s wall. Then they ripped the hood free to chain his neck, and Tolrep had his first chance to analyze the reason his ship was playing bodyguard.
He didn’t look like a very impressive prisoner, this Commodore Cullen. His hair stood out in such bladed shock that it was nigh impossible to know if he was blond or simply old. The hardened, bumpy cord of the aged battle-scar cut across the bridge of his nose to the tip of the jaw. Though he was lean with muscle he offered no resistance to his imprisonment. Lesser men would think him broken, and yet the tightly constrained fury blazed in those cobalt-blue eyes, and more importantly, the spark of intelligence. No, this one was not broken. This one was waiting for something. But for what?
“I hear we have a prisoner in the hold.” Jelina said back in the cabin.
Tolrep didn’t hear her at first; he was busying installing the knives in his flintlocks to replace the ones ruined by Eddard’s longsword. When it did penetrate, his head whipped up like a falcon. “Where did you hear that?”
“People talk, Matty. Plus, there is the matters of leaving one’s diary open.”
“It wouldn’t be a matter of note if someone respected the notion of privacy.” Bad enough that he had to share bunk with the girl because of Cullen. Was nothing sacred to her?
“It wouldn’t be a matter of note if someone kept his crew informed.”
“When did you get to know the hows and whys of being a sea captain?”
“Watching you.” Sarcasm tugged a smile from her lips.
My fault for asking. “So tell me. What, in your professional opinion as a sea captain, would you cautious me about?”
“They’re laughing behind your back. They say letting a woman on a ship is bad luck.”
“They’re seamen, Jelina. They’re superstitious about everything.”
“Doesn’t mean you should get the blame.” She paused, and Tolrep twitched. The silence was heavy with scheming. “So, when do I get to meet this prisoner?”
“You’re not going to.”
Jelina pouted. “I’ll be careful.”
“I don’t care how careful you are. You’re not meeting him.”
“He’s in chains. And under guard. What is he going to do, glare me to death?”
“He’s a dangerous man. He’ll be somebody else’s problem in a few days, and you’ll have your bunk back.” Tolrep kept his glare on hers until she gave up in a huff, slamming the door in her wake. She’ll get over it. Before he knew it, though, he realized he was setting her bed on her favorite palanquin, with the fluffy pillow Callie had given him on the first day of their voyage. There was no other place to rest. The privateer would have to settle for the wooden plank that would-be victim to moisture if the portholes were not screwed tight. He even left the door unlocked. Anybody from a scout to Depth, the cook, could barge in with any kind of emergency.
Hope she forgives me, he thought, and started. I’m not the villain here. It was at the last thought that sleep caught up with him.
Something new woke him. Rain. Slamming, hammering rain, mingled with the bellows of hoarse voices. Tolrep shot up at the sight of the empty palanquin. No. It was foolish, it was childish, it was stupid even to connect one thing to another just because of dire circumstance, but it was done, and it was a breathless run for him up to the deck where the storm lashed out with whips of spray and cold. “Jelina!” His voice was a small thing against the bellow of the sea. “Jelina!”
Chased By War Page 42
