Pirates & Privateers

by Jane Glatt

  Calder turned another corner and stopped. The floor of the corridor ahead of him was punctuated by splashes of moonlight. He’d reached the outer wall of the building: beyond these stones was the Pale Sea and below were the working wharves and docks of the city’s harbour. The stench of the city and docks would never penetrate this high up and bother the richest and most powerful people who lived here.

  His focus narrowed on the hall in front of him, and he leaned against the wall, his dark skin and clothing helping to hide him in the shadows. It wouldn’t be long now. This was the exact place and the exact time for him to learn what he needed to know.

  There was a noise from down the hall. Light spilled out from an open door. A woman exited, followed by two small girls. One girl rubbed a tiny fist against her eye.

  “Bring them back when they’re six,” said a male voice from inside. “And don’t tell me again that they already are.”

  “Yes, Freeholder,” the woman said. There was fear in her voice. “Their mother said they were the right age, but I can see that you’re right.”

  “Are there any more to come?” the man asked.

  “Not in the city,” the woman said. “Not on either side of the river.”

  “Then check outside the city. Surely the Three have more than a few sets of twins.”

  At the word twins, Calder felt his focus narrow again. That was it; that was what his Luck had led him to. Someone was looking for twins—someone other than the Master Intelligencer. They had to be looking for Traits, which meant it was someone who knew that twins with them were easier to identify: and had stronger Traits.

  The woman towed the children along the corridor away from him, and the door closed, blocking the light that had spilled onto the flagstones.

  Calder backed away without even bothering to try to find out who lived in that apartment. His Luck would show him when and if he needed that information. For now, he knew why Inger and Dagrun Lund were missing: someone was after twins with Traits—like them.

  A few corridors later, he felt safe enough to break into a jog. It was late and he needed some sleep. He’d start his hunt again in the morning.

  “ARE YOU ASLEEP?”

  Dag blinked up at Inger, who stood beside her holding a lamp. She lifted her head off the table, and her cider, only half finished, almost tipped over.

  “You were asleep!” Inger said with glee in her voice.

  “Yeah,” Dag replied. “It’s not like I had anywhere else to go.” When Inger had taken away her empty plate, she’d said she had a room and that they’d talk there later. That must have been hours ago. “What time is it?” She’d fallen asleep, again. Some Intelligencer she was turning out to be, sleeping all the time. Although, she knew that Inger would never let anything happen to her so she was safe.

  “It’s time to go,” Inger said. “We’ve finally asked the last couple of customers to leave. Ursa never wants to make more than three leave; she feels like it’s saying she doesn’t want the business, which she always does. She never knows when the next ship will arrive.”

  Inger dragged a hand through her hair, and Dag realized that she was tired too. She got to her feet.

  “Lead the way.”

  Inger nodded and, with a lamp in hand, headed to the back of the tavern. Dag followed her through a small door that led past the kitchen to a narrow set of stairs.

  “It’s not very big,” Inger said as she led the way up to the next floor. “And it’s nothing like our rooms in the Hall.” Halfway down the hallway, she paused, pulled a key from her pocket, and unlocked the door.

  “But it is private,” Inger continued. She put the lamp on a table just inside the door and stepped aside to let Dag enter before she closed the door.

  “I’ve never lived by myself before,” Inger said. “At least not until you went on your assignment.”

  “I never have,” Dag replied. “I had to share when I was away.” She didn’t go into more details. Inger didn’t need to know about her assignment, and what she was—what she did—was secret.

  The room was small, less than half the size of either bedroom at the Hall. Two narrow beds were pushed up against opposite walls and a carpet ran the length of the floor that separated the beds. Dag picked the one that didn’t look slept in and flopped down on it.

  “You should take your boots off,” Inger said.

  Dag sat up, dragged her boots off, and tossed them to the floor. Her feet were dirty from her time on the ship. She sighed.

  “All right, let’s talk,” Dag said. “Why did you leave without telling me?”

  Inger sat down on the other bed and stared across at Dag. “I knew you’d follow me,” she said. “And I was afraid to wait for you to come back.”

  “Why?” Dag knew that Joosep was involved in some way, but she didn’t want to unintentionally put ideas in Inger’s head. It was better if she told her what she knew—what was on the surface—and then Dag could start figuring out what was really going on.

  “Tarmo Holt,” Inger said. “Joosep asked me to see him.” Inger paused. “He is not a very nice man.”

  “Joosep or Holt?” Dag asked. She knew Inger had seen Holt: that’s what Vilis had told her. But why had Joosep asked her to meet with him? And what did Holt want from Inger?

  “Holt,” Inger clarified. “But in this case, Joosep too. Tarmo Holt wanted me to have children.”

  “He wants to marry you? Lie with you? What?” Dag couldn’t help her surprise. What in all of Nyorden was Holt after?

  “Not with him,” Inger said, “not his children. He was going to find someone for me to have children with. Tarmo Holt would pay me very generous living expenses for the rest of my life, and all I had to do was have children.”

  “You told him no.” Dag hadn’t expected this. Holt was buying children. Did Joosep even know what Holt had wanted with Inger? Was he a party to it? “That’s why you left?”

  “No,” Inger replied. “I mean, of course I told him no, but I left because he threatened you. He said he’d make sure you were sent on dangerous missions—the most hazardous, unlikely to succeed missions.”

  “My assignments are determined by Joosep,” Dag said. She didn’t believe Joosep would put any of his Intelligencers in unnecessary danger because someone with more authority asked him to. Or would he? He’d already tried to conceal his part in Inger running away.

  “I only know that he believes he can make it happen,” Inger said. “He is the Grand Freeholder.”

  “Only for another few months,” Dag replied. “But Joosep sent you to him?” She still couldn’t believe that Joosep had played a part in this.

  “Yes, Joosep Sepp, your boss, asked me to talk to Tarmo Holt.” Inger sighed. “I didn’t go right away, either. He had to ask me a few times.”

  “When did he first ask you?” Dag felt a pit forming in her gut.

  “A few days after you left,” Inger said. “I was able to postpone the meeting until the week before you were due home.”

  “You did the right thing,” Dag said, hiding her fury. She’d only been gone a few days when Joosep started urging her sister to meet with Holt. What if her mission had been created to get her out of the way?

  And what was Tarmo Holt’s goal? He’d pay Inger to have children by some as yet unnamed man in what seemed like an effort to breed Traits. But why? Besides, if Holt had learned about Traits from Joosep he also would know that any children with Traits would be the Master Intelligencer’s to train. Unless Joosep and Holt were working together. But if that was the case, Holt wouldn’t need to find children with Traits: Joosep already did that.

  She was left with the question of why Holt wanted people with Traits. And now she’d circled back to what was Tarmo Holt’s goal?

  Dag shook her head. “I’m not going to figure this out tonight,” she said. “I need some sleep.”

  JOOSEP ENTERED HIS office early, hoping that it was too early for a man like Tarmo Holt to be up and around. He wasn’t ex
pecting any news from Calder: his Trait didn’t work that quickly, and Calder never tried to force it. Luck worked in its own time, he always said.

  He sat down at his desk and picked up the report he’d written when Dagrun had debriefed him. The only interesting intelligence she’d uncovered had to do with Clan Freeholder Timonis’ business partners cheating him. Was this the type of information Holt was after?

  He’d initially been uncomfortable when Tarmo Holt had asked him to send Dagrun to spy on Timonis. At the time, he’d thought it was because he’d told the Grand Freeholder about Dagrun’s Trait but now, looking back, he wondered if it had been more than that. Since his Trait hadn’t been triggered, he’d convinced himself that it really was a good idea to know more about the man everyone expected would be the next Grand Freeholder.

  It was Swyford’s turn to supply the Grand Freeholder; nothing would change that. It was up to Swyford to elect their choice, but information Dagrun might uncover could help Joosep navigate the transition.

  Now he wondered about Tarmo Holt’s motives. He hadn’t asked about this mission yesterday, and unless he had read the report when he was in Joosep’s office alone, he didn’t seem to care. Had it been done in order to separate the Lund sisters? Had Tarmo Holt tricked Joosep—and his Trait—into being complicit in some scheme?

  Not for the first time, Joosep wished he had Dagrun’s Trait strength. It would make him an unstoppable Master Intelligencer. He was hopeful that one day she would replace him, but she wasn’t ready and wouldn’t be for years. It was one thing to know people’s secrets: it was another thing to know what to do with them.

  He sighed. He wasn’t sure what to do with Tarmo Holt’s secret. Or if he even had to do anything. In three months, Holt would step down as Grand Freeholder, and Joosep would no longer be required to follow his direction. He could wait that long, couldn’t he?

  CALDER LOOKED OUT across the sea. It was calm this early, and wisps of fog drifted off the still, greyish-blue water. He took a bite of the bun he’d grabbed for breakfast and savoured the sharp tang of the cheese it was stuffed with.

  His Luck hadn’t necessarily brought him to the dock, but he hadn’t had a destination in mind once he’d bought breakfast. The sisters could be hiding in the city on either side of the river, or they could have travelled inland. But inland travel was very difficult, especially in summer.

  Most towns in the Fair Seas Treaty Alliance countries ringed the Pale Sea. The logging camps went further inland every year as they harvested the thick forests and the Dareveth River was navigable upstream for a fair distance, but eventually the Blighted Woods barred the way. Calder had met a few people who claimed to have gone up the Dareveth as far as a giant waterfall, but that had been in the winter, when the frozen river could be skimmed over with an ice boat and the Blighted Woods—and the creatures that lived in it—was covered in ice and snow.

  He finished his bun and wiped the crumbs from his hands. So, the Lund sisters had most likely left by sea. But to what destination?

  From farther along the pier, a woman stared at him and he nodded to her. She nodded back so he slowly ambled her way.

  “It’s a beautiful, still morning,” he said softly when he reached her. “I love the sea at this time of day.”

  “Me too,” the woman agreed. “Though I don’t recall seeing you here before.”

  “I usually greet the morning from on the sea,” Calder replied, “from the deck of a Merchant Adventurer ship.”

  “You must have seen some sights then,” the woman said. She eyed him more closely. “And are from somewhere else?”

  “My father is,” Calder replied. “From the Sapphire Sea.”

  “Is it really so blue?”

  “Yes,” Calder said. “As blue as a Nordmerian’s eyes.” Including his, in truth.

  Calder paused and stared out at the sea. He felt most at home there, but he assumed that was because he didn’t really have a home. He’d left his family at six—just after Hakon died—and moved into the Hall. But the Hall had never really felt like a home.

  “Did you see a young woman about a week ago?” he asked. “In her early twenties, blonde, blue eyes.” He didn’t know either sister well, but he knew what Inger looked like: she was pretty hard to miss. But when he thought of Dagrun all he could visualize was Inger. Were they that alike? They were twins, but were they identical? He’d never seen them together: did they look the same? Identical twins had stronger Traits, so they must.

  “Lots of people asking things these days,” the woman replied.

  “I just want to make sure she’s all right,” Calder replied. “I heard someone was causing trouble for her.”

  “I try to stay out of other people’s trouble,” the woman replied. She looked over at Calder, nodded, and turned to leave.

  “That’s usually a good idea,” Calder said. “Staying out of other people’s trouble.” He sighed and stared out across the harbour. Maybe this wasn’t the person he was supposed to talk to. He wasn’t even certain that his Luck had brought him here.

  He checked the angle of the sun. Fishermen would be returning with the early catch soon and the pier would be too busy for confidential conversations. He was about to leave when someone bumped into him.

  “Sorry,” a boy said. He was about ten, with shoulder-length, dirty blond hair that he shoved out of his eyes.

  “No worries,” Calder said. He was about to move past the boy when his focus narrowed on him. This boy was why he was here this morning.

  “Where would you go if you were to run away?” Calder asked abruptly. “If you needed to get away from someone?”

  The boy shrugged. “Strongrock,” he said. “That’s where everyone goes.” Then the boy took off along the pier.

  Calder watched him run up to a fishing boat that was docking, grab the painter, and tie the boat off before accepting a fish as payment and then hurrying to a second boat that was arriving.

  “Strongrock,” he said to himself. It made sense.

  It had been years since he’d last been there, before Joosep began having him monitor the Merchant Adventurers. The small island was nominally under Ostland’s control, although the people who lived on Strongrock claimed to be neutral. And they were, but they were also pirates.

  He turned and headed back towards the Hall. He had his destination. He’d need to raid his old, clothes chest for something appropriate, he thought absently, his usual worn but good quality clothing would not get him on a pirate ship. He either needed to be down on his luck—he snorted at that—or well-off. He usually went with well-off: if he was forced into a card game he’d win, and it was hard to seem downtrodden when the cards always fell your way.

  He entered the Hall. A guard stopped him, and he had to show his Intelligencer patch before he was allowed to pass.

  He shoved the patch back into the waistband pocket. Should he take his patch with him to the pirate’s stronghold? What would they do to someone with a patch if they found it? But if at any point he needed to prove who he was and he didn’t have it with him, he really would have to depend on Luck.

  When he finally entered his own apartment, he’d decided to trust his Trait and resolve the issue of taking his patch with a coin toss.

  DAG DRAGGED A hand through her hair, wincing when she tugged it to untangle a few snarls. Her day spent on the ship hadn’t done her hair any favours. She sat up and shoved the covers off her. Or her feet. The soles were dirty and one toenail was ripped. But they weren’t as brown and calloused as a sailor’s. If anyone had noticed her feet they would have known that she didn’t normally go barefoot.

  Inger had left about an hour ago and Dag had only half-woken up. Her sister hadn’t said where she was going or when she’d be back, and now Dag needed to piss and she had no idea where to do that.

  She lay back down and stared at the ceiling, trying not to think about her full bladder. She must have fallen back asleep because she woke up when Inger returned.

&n
bsp; “Aren’t you up yet?” Inger asked.

  “To go where?” Dag sat up. At least Inger had a tray of . . . toast and what looked like pickled fish, and a pot that hopefully contained tea. “Where’s the privy?”

  After a quick visit down the hall, she re-entered the room to find that Inger had pulled the table from beside the door into the space between the beds. The tray was on the table along with two plates filled with toast and fish. Dag gratefully took a steaming mug from Inger and sat on the edge of her bed.

  “Thanks for getting breakfast,” Dag said as she sipped her tea. She closed her eyes and sighed.

  “It’s part of my wages,” Inger said. “Room and board.” She dropped a key onto the tray. “An extra one for the room. Ursa means my room and board to feed one, but I made the argument that the man who cleans the tavern eats more than twice what I do and I bring in more trade.”

  “You mean trade in the tavern?” Dag asked. She picked up the key. She didn’t want to think that Inger was doing any “trade” other than serving although she knew prostitution was often expected of serving girls. She picked up a piece of toast and laid a slice of fish on it.

  “Yes,” Inger replied. As usual, her sister missed any insinuation that trade could be anything other than serving in the tavern. She picked up her own toast and fish. “It’s real easy for me to get a customer to buy a bowl of stew or another beer.” She grinned. “Or a cider instead of beer.”

  Dag nodded as she ate. “I can see how that would be appreciated by the owner,” she said between bites.

  “Oh, I get part of that,” Inger said.

  “From the customer?”

  “Sometimes they leave a little extra,” Inger agreed. “But Ursa, she tallies up each day’s takings and gives everyone a percentage. We all get the same, no matter our job; because Ursa says one can’t succeed without the others.” She pulled out her purse and shook it and coins jangled. “That’s where I was. Ursa does the accounts in the morning and gives us our shares at breakfast.”