Scimitar War

by Chris A. Jackson

  “So you came here, divvied it up and are livin’ like kings,” Farin said, his tone not quite accusing. This wasn’t at all what he had expected. Kori actually seemed to be pleased to see them, not frightened, which he’d certainly be if they had run off with the treasure and plans to cheat their absent mates. “What happened to share and share alike, then?”

  “How was we supposed to share when we didn’t even know where you were, or even if you lived, Farin? Ay?” Kori glared at him, offended by the suggestion. “We waited as long as we could, but you never showed up. Not our fault you missed out.”

  “Well, we’re bloody here now, and I’m thinkin’ we deserve at least a portion of the spoils.” He raked the room with his eyes and grinned maliciously. “Don’t we, lads?”

  The dangerous rumble of “Aye” shook the empty decanters on their silver trays.

  “Well, we’d best talk to the captain about that,” Kori said, eying the crowd of pirates dubiously. “Don’t be thinkin’ you all can split up what I got. Divided so many ways, it wouldn’t do you much good. But Parek’ll know how to get everyone together and divvy up our cuts proper.”

  “Aye, that’s why we come to see you, Kori,” Farin said, letting his grin return. “We’ll stay here with you tonight. Then tomorrow, we’ll all go to see the good captain.”

  Chapter 30

  Blood and Money

  “I’m sorry, Count Norris, but with all that’s going on, I don’t have the manpower or the time to apprehend a petty criminal on mere hearsay.” Chief Constable Voya rubbed her eyes and sat back in her chair. She looked as if she hadn’t slept since the evacuations began.

  “Not hearsay, Chief Constable,” Emil argued. “We have two eye witnesses to his atrocities, which include murder, kidnapping and theft, which I would hardly call petty. He organized the pillaging of Mrs. Flaxal Brelak’s keep on Plume Isle, which resulted in the deaths of more than fifty local villagers and untold loss of personal property and wealth.”

  “Which the emperor confiscated with her arrest,” Voya argued, rubbing her eyes. “It’s not like she’s going to get her money back.”

  “This is not about her money, Chief Constable,” he countered with a level stare. “It is about bringing a murdering pirate to justice.”

  “I’m sorry, Count Norris, but every resource I’ve got is going into evacuating this city. I’ve got to give that effort priority.”

  “And to the hells with justice,” he growled in accusation.

  “I’m not in charge of dispensing justice, Milord Count,” she growled right back. She placed her palms on the top of her desk and pushed herself to her feet, glaring at him with flint-hard eyes. “Right now, I’ve got to concentrate my resources on saving the living rather than avenging the dead. Once this Akrotia…issue is resolved, if the city’s still standing, I might have the time, energy and manpower to chase after fugitive pirates, but not before.”

  Norris opened his mouth to argue, but Huffington interrupted, saying calmly, “Pardon me, milord, but if it’s a question of manpower, we can supply able hands. The captain and crew of Orin’s Pride would surely volunteer, as well as myself. If the chief constable would allow you to deputize them, it would be quite legal and proper.”

  Norris could have hugged the man.

  “Well, Chief Constable?” he asked.

  “How many men are we talking about here?” she asked warily.

  “About a dozen. They would all be under my supervision and I will personally bear any costs that we may incur.”

  “And I suppose you want them armed.”

  “It would only be prudent, Chief Constable. The man is a pirate, after all.”

  Voya chewed her lip, her eyes flicking between the two men. “Very well, Count Norris, but you’ll be held responsible for any loss of life or damages. And they’ll only be authorized for today, not a minute longer. I’ll not sign off on your own private army.”

  “That’s understood, Chief Constable.”

  “Fine.” She sat back down. “Give Corporal Penkin the names of your men and we’ll start the ball rolling. Now, please, Milord Count, I must ask you to leave my office. I’ve got a city to evacuate.”

  ≈

  “Thank you for seeing me so early, Your Majesty,” Cynthia said with a curtsy. Her escort had ushered her into a sunlit chamber where the emperor and his secretary sat at an ornate table, his ever-present bodyguard hovering at his shoulder. The emperor was eating breakfast, and the secretary was scratching furiously in his ledger.

  “Your request stated that it was urgent, Mrs. Flaxal Brelak. We can only assume that it has to do with Akrotia. Perhaps the elves imparted some news when they met with you last night?”

  Cynthia chilled; he was receiving reports from her omnipresent guards. She forced herself to respond lightly. “Unfortunately, nothing of consequence, Your Majesty. But that is not the reason for my visit. As you undoubtedly know, Orin’s Pride was impounded yesterday. Her crew sighted Akrotia on their way north. We have perhaps four days before it’s sitting outside Tsing Harbor.”

  “You believe the time for our attack is at hand.” He dabbed the corners of his mouth with a silver embroidered napkin and sipped blackbrew. “Why the need to tell Us this in person?”

  “Because, Your Majesty, I would like to get my affairs in order in case…I don’t return from this fight. In addition to my prison sentence, you also confiscated all my assets. We haven’t discussed this yet.”

  “What is there to discuss, Mrs. Flaxal Brelak? All you owned now belongs to the empire. There will be plenty of time to deal with an inventory and formal transfer of ownership once Akrotia has been dealt with. We hate to be crass, but if you do not survive your encounter with Akrotia, then We will take up the matter with your legal representative.”

  She took a deep breath and plunged on. “Count Norris made it clear on his first visit to Plume Isle that Your Majesty was interested in the ships that I’ve designed. In fact, he happened to acquire a copy of the draft plans for Manta while he was there.” She waited, but the only reaction from the emperor was to arch one eyebrow as he took another bite of toast with marmalade. “So I must conclude that the plans for that and my other ships would be of interest to you?”

  “Of course those plans were of interest to Us, but Admiral Joslan’s report stated that all of the plans for your ships were destroyed during the pirate attack. Is this not correct?”

  “Yes,” she hastened to say, “that is correct. All the original plans were destroyed.”

  Tynean Tsing narrowed his eyes, and Cynthia felt like a mouse under the gaze of a hawk. Hold together, she thought as her palms began to sweat. I hold all the cards here.

  “By original plans, you mean exactly what, Mrs. Flaxal Brelak?”

  “There are copies of all of my plans in Southaven, kept safely at Keelson Shipyards.”

  “Then they were also forfeit, along with the rest of your possessions, at the time of your arrest.” He took another sip of blackbrew and put the cup down, but his eyes never left hers. “Please get to the point.”

  “The point is, Your Majesty, that Flaxal Shipping and all its assets, including the ship plans, were no longer mine at the time of my arrest.” She took a moment to let that notion sink in, then added, “Before I left for Akrotia, I took the precaution of transferring the business to someone I trusted. It seemed…prudent at the time, considering the potential repercussions of the destruction of the Clairissa and Fire Drake.”

  The room fell silent; even the emperor’s secretary had stopped writing and was staring at her wide-eyed.

  “And when, exactly, did you have the time to do that?” the emperor asked, the merest hint of annoyance in his tone. “There is no magistrate on Plume Isle to verify such a transfer.”

  “No, Your Majesty, there isn’t.
Prior to my departure, I drafted the documents and sent them to Tsing with Tipos, who also delivered to Your Majesty the letters from Count Norris and myself explaining the circumstances surrounding the loss of your ships. The transfer documents were verified by a magistrate here, then sent on to Southaven, where they should be arriving any day. Master Fergus, my banker there, will execute the document. So you see, the plans for my other ships no longer belonged to me when I was arrested. You have Orin’s Pride, and you can certainly take her apart to see how she’s built. But you have no other ship plans, and you have no one trained to sail such ships.”

  “We could question the legality of this transfer easily enough,” he said. “We can have a ship there in a fortnight, and confiscate these plans.”

  “You could attempt to, Your Majesty, but I left instructions that the plans were to be destroyed if anyone tries to take them without a signed letter of consent from me.”

  “We see.” Tynean Tsing glared at her for a moment, then sighed. “What do you want, Mrs. Flaxal Brelak?”

  “I would like, Your Majesty, to negotiate.”

  ≈

  Hooves clacked noisily on the cobbles as the two carriages wound through the steep streets of the Hill District. Camilla peered out the window. Between the tall townhouses and lofty estates, she caught glimpses of the harbor far below, the cordon of armed ships across the entrance. Even in this rarified air of privilege, tension blew so thick you could almost smell it. Though the poorer sections of the city were being evacuated first, many of those who had the means were effecting their own departures. Wagons and carriages piled high with possessions or goods crowded the streets, slowing their progress.

  What was I thinking? Camilla wondered silently, her stomach roiling as she strained to keep an impassive expression on her face.

  Last night she had been so certain; she had to be there when they arrested Parek. He had to see her face, let him know that she was the one who would send him to the guillotine. But now she quailed at the thought of seeing him. Visions of his brutality plagued her mind, and she could feel his rough hands pawing her.

  The others in the carriage were also quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. Even Tim sat with a solemn look on his face, fingering the hilt of the cutlass he had brought from the Shattered Isles. The men were all armed, their choice of weapons ranging from the fencing blade on Emil’s hip to the long, obsidian-spiked club across Chula’s lap. Only Huffington’s weapons were not obvious. Though Camilla knew little of the man’s true skills, she was beginning to appreciate how much Emil relied upon him.

  All too soon, they pulled up in front of an elegant townhouse, and the men debarked from the carriages. Camilla hung back, watching as Horace motioned for four sailors to go around the corner to the back entrance. The rest formed up behind Emil, who looked relieved that she had yet to climb down from the carriage.

  “Huffington, you wait here with Camilla. We’ve plenty of men, so it should take only a few minutes.”

  Camilla’s stomach fluttered. He had given her a perfect excuse to remain here, to close the door and pull the curtain and never look Parek in the face again. But a deeper part of her, a darker part, knew she had to do this. If Parek died, he would never know she had survived. She needed to see him. He needed to pay for what he did to her. He needed to pay…in blood.

  “I’m coming, Emil,” she said, though her head spun with panic. Camilla accepted Huffington’s hand to descend from the carriage. “Let’s go.”

  ≈

  “And loyal as one we are, Farin,” Parek said, glaring at his former first mate. “But you gotta understand; I didn’t know if you were dead or alive, and more than half the booty’s already grown legs and walked away. Besides me and Kori, I know of only five others still here in Tsing. The rest legged it already with all this talk of war.”

  “And what you gotta understand, Captain, is that me and the lads don’t particularly care who’s here and who’s legged it.” He glanced at the glowering crowd of pirates around him and grinned. “We just want our share.”

  “And you’ll get it, Farin, but you’ll have to bloody wait. I don’t keep my money tucked under my mattress. We’ll round up as many of the lads as we can, and we’ll figure out a fair split.” He spread his hands in a magnanimous gesture, figuring he had to be magnanimous when faced with a mob of angry pirates. It felt like mutiny, but they weren’t aboard ship. If he didn’t placate Farin, he’d end up face down in his own blood, but he wasn’t about to let that make him a coward. “But share and share alike goes both ways, Farin. Whatever you made on your run to the Sand Coast will go into the pot, too.”

  “Aye, I suppose,” Farin said reluctantly, “but it’s not near as much as you—”

  “You expectin’ company, Captain Parek?” a man at the window interrupted.

  “No. Why?”

  “‘Cause two carriages full of armed men just stopped outside, and some are goin’ ‘round back.”

  Parek joined him at the window and peered down to the street. By the Nine Hells, if that fat fop of a banker ratted me out… he thought murderously, but these weren’t constables. Then a flash of crimson caught his eye, waves of red hair and golden skirts as a woman descended from the carriage. She glanced up, and the face that had haunted his dreams took his breath away. “Camilla!”

  “Who?” Farin asked, joining him at the window.

  “Never mind, Farin. We’ve been found out, that’s what matters.” An idea flashed through his mind like lightning, and he grinned. He strode to the mantle and lifted the golden hilted cutlass from its pegs. “They’ve got swords, but it looks like there’s barely a dozen. They can’t know you’re here, so we’ve got surprise on our side, lads. If we play this right, we’ll all get out of here, but we’ve got to be smart. And quiet!”

  He motioned them out of the sitting room and onto the second floor landing where a broad marble staircase descended to the entry hall. Balustrades bordered the stairwell and the entry hall, with three doors on each side along the carpeted halls. He pointed to these doors, and three or four men vanished behind each, leaving them cracked to peer out. Another hall ran to his left toward the back bedrooms and the stairs that led up to the third floor and down to the kitchen, a handy escape route. Standing at the head of the stairs, Parek listened while his butler answered the door.

  “I am Count Emil Norris,” came a voice from the front stoop, “and by the power vested in me by the emperor, I demand entry!” The door banged open, and his butler stumbled back.

  “Norris?” Parek muttered, trying to remember where he’d heard that name. Then it came to him; he had been tied to his bunk aboard Cutthroat with a dagger at his neck. Timothy Norris…his sister Samantha.

  “Count Norris? Well I’ll be damned. If it isn’t Count Norris invading my home once again.”

  Parek grinned down at the men crowding into the entry hall and drew his sword. As they advanced toward the stair, Camilla entered, an innocuous bespectacled fellow at her side. “And you brought me a present. How considerate! I’ve missed dear Camilla very much.”

  “I’m here to place you under arrest for murder and piracy, Captain Parek.” Norris ascended two steps, flanked by his squad of sailors, and drew his sword. “Put up your weapon and come down.”

  “To lay my neck on a guillotine? I don’t think so.” He laughed and flourished the golden-hilted cutlass. “Tell me, Count, did the lady tell you of our time together? She’s quite a skilled doxy, you know. She taught me things that I daresay she’s never practiced in your bed. Makes one wonder where she learned such tricks, doesn’t it?” He enjoyed the flush of color that rose to Camilla’s cheeks, and the glower of rage on the count’s face. This was almost too easy. “Word is that Captain Bloodwind taught her, and that he loaned her to his captains for taking prizes. I see she’s duped you, too, so I don’t feel s
o bad now about being had by one so practiced in the art. I’d be careful with her, though. Those waters have been plumbed by more pirates than ever sailed the Shattered Isles.”

  “Shut your filthy mouth!” Norris growled, his knuckles white on his sword.

  “Why don’t you come up here and shut it for me, Count. Or will you send your lady up to do it for you?”

  The count advanced up the steps, his men close behind. Parek grinned, noting their dispersal on the wide stair. The bespectacled fellow stayed behind with Camilla. This would work perfectly.

  The count stopped three steps from the top and raised his sword. “This is your last chance, Parek. Put up your sword and surrender.”

  “My last chance to die like a coward, you mean.” Parek grinned and raised his own weapon. “You should have let your son kill me when you had the chance. Now I think I’ll just kill you, and take Camilla back.”

  “Over my dead body!” yelled the count as he lunged.

  “That’s the plan,” agreed Parek. As he parried, the doors along the halls burst open.

  ≈

  Camilla’s blood chilled as Parek announced his intentions. Her knees trembled, and she clutched the side of the door. Emil attacked, and despair welled in her heart. She had seen enough swordplay at Bloodwind’s feasts to know that he was no match for the pirate captain.

  Then pirates poured out of the doors flanking the stairwell. Leaping over the balustrades, they fell on the intruders with shrill cries and flashing daggers. One took position beside Parek and squared off with Tim, while rest of the sailors defended themselves on the stairs.

  Two pirates jumped from above to land beyond the fray. Startled, she stumbled back against the ornate front door, slamming it shut. Before the pirates could reach her, Huffington stepped forward, daggers in both hands. The pirates attacked.

  Camilla gasped as Huffington flipped one dagger and threw it. The blade sunk hilt deep into one pirate’s stomach, and the man folded over and went down. The second pirate lunged, slashing with two daggers of his own. The count’s secretary managed to parry one, but the other raked a long gash in his arm.