Pirates & Privateers

by Jane Glatt

  Dag gasped in a breath as he pulled her with him onto dry sand.

  “I’ll meet you in the small bay,” he said. She nodded and headed towards the rocky ledge while he dashed into the trees.

  The small cache of guns was where he’d left it and he grabbed the crate and ran to the ledge. Dag was already on the beach, struggling to drag the sailboat into the water. Calder jumped, doing his best to keep the guns above his head. His feet hit sand and his knees buckled. A wave crashed into him, spraying water onto his burden. He raised the crate above his head and waded to the beach as fast as he could.

  The sail, thank Nyorden, was still tied between two trees. It was dry and fluttering in the wind, which he thought a good sign. He quickly untied the sail and joined Dag at the boat.

  “There’s a cask of powder and some shot,” he said pointing. “There in the trees.”

  Dag nodded and raced away, leaving him to deal with hoisting the sail. She was back in a few moments and heaved her bundles into the bottom of the boat before leaning against the stern and pushing the boat along the sand.

  Calder tied one last knot before jumping out to help Dag. He put his shoulder to the hull and pushed the boat into the surf. As soon as the boat was afloat, he jumped in and set the tiller into place.

  Dag hauled herself over the side as he tilted the sail. The wind caught it immediately, and the boat skimmed over the waves. A rock scraped along the keel as he headed out past the point. The Vassan was just ahead: he maneuvered around it, but he didn’t see the two dinghies or the sailboat. Someone on the Vassan shouted, and then a bell rang out. With no other direction offering escape, Calder headed east, steering the sailboat past the ship.

  “Can they catch us?” Dag asked as she crawled to his side.

  “Not if my Trait keeps the wind in our sail,” Calder said. “And yours can get us through the Teeth.”

  Chapter 17

  DAG STARED BEHIND them while Calder did something with the sails. The boat surged ahead when the sail filled with wind. To their stern, a sailboat rounded the point.

  “A boat is following us,” Dag said, and Calder turned his head to look. “I think it’s Ansdottir.”

  “I doubt she’s better at sailing small craft than me,” Calder said. He grinned at her. “And I should have Luck on my side.”

  “Let’s hope,” Dag said. She didn’t mention that Luck would have let them escape without being spotted. She stayed low in the prow, trying to keep out of Calder’s way while still watching both the path ahead and their pursuer.

  Calder had pointed them east, she thought, although the wind was coming at them, in almost the opposite direction. Calder continuously shifted the sail, making multiple zigzags across the waves to keep the little boat heading generally into the wind.

  Dag kept an eye on Ansdottir, who was doing the same back and forth zigzag but not as seamlessly as Calder, and so was falling behind, little by little.

  Movement behind Ansdottir caught her eye: the ship sailed into view, now out from behind the island. A moment later it had caught up to Ansdottir.

  “How much farther to the Teeth?” Dag asked. “We have more company.”

  “Who?” Calder turned his head. “Skit. Hang on.” He pushed on the tiller, and the boat swung south. Calder grabbed the bottom of the sail and held it out. He let go as the wind caught it, puffing it out alongside them. The boat bucked, and they were skimming directly across the path of the ship.

  Dag looked up: she could see pirates scrambling in the sails as the ship tried to turn around. Then they were past it, and Ansdottir’s small sailboat changed course, still following them.

  “I’ll need you to watch the way ahead,” Calder called. “We’ll be at the Teeth soon and you’ll need to navigate us through it.”

  “All right.” Dag huddled in the bow, facing forward. When she looked back past Calder, the ship had turned and rejoined the sailboat in pursuit of them.

  Satisfied that Calder was keeping them in the lead, she peered out at the sea in front of them.

  Straight ahead and to their east a forest of jagged rocks jutted up from the sea. The Serpent’s Teeth: although Dag didn’t see how any ship the size of Ansdottir’s could have navigated them. Had they been this close together when she’d gone through them while Dag was on board? She wasn’t sure even this small boat would be able to make it through.

  Calder untied some ropes and rolled the sail down until only a small square of fabric was left. The boat slowed just as they passed the first rocky spear.

  “Right,” Dag said, pointing her arm to the right. The boat responded to Calder’s hand on the tiller, and it slipped past another rock.

  Dag inched forward along the gunwale until her head was over the water. They passed another sliver of white rock, its thin length reaching down into the sea farther than she could see.

  She concentrated on the path in front of them, ignoring the feeling of urgency from being pursued.

  “Left.” She pointed her arm. “Right.” They glided past more rocky spikes, the boat edging alongside a submerged one. They were barely moving now. Calder grabbed a corner of the sail as the wind fluttered against the canvas.

  Dag chanced a look behind them. The ship had veered away and was heading farther from them, but Ansdottir—in the other small sailboat—had followed them into the Teeth.

  Dag swung her head back to the path ahead. She called a few directions, and the boat squeezed through a narrow gap before Calder made a sharp right. A moment later, she heard a scraping sound from behind them.

  Ansdottir’s boat was listing to one side, and two figures sat huddled in the back, staring at the sea around them. A third person—Margit Ansdottir—was busy rolling up the sail, which she then tied off.

  “They’ve run aground,” Calder said. “They might even be taking on water.”

  Dag was about to say good, when she realized that one of the huddled figures was Inger.

  “Inger’s on that boat,” she said. “We can’t let them sink.” Just as she hadn’t been willing to stand by and let Inger die by the noose, she wasn’t going sit by and let her sister drown.

  Calder met her eyes, frowned, but then he nodded. “We’ll make sure they don’t drown. We have to turn around in order to reach them.”

  Dag nodded in relief. She knew she was putting them both at risk; just because she didn’t want the other boat to sink didn’t mean the people in it would appreciate their efforts. But she was grateful that Calder hadn’t argued. It took a few minutes of delicate maneuvering before they were able to get the small boat turned around.

  Once they were a dozen yards from the other boat, Dag called out, “Inger! Are you all right?”

  “Are we supposed to swim to you?” Ansdottir called back. “You think my crew won’t come to rescue me?”

  “If you’re taking on water,” Calder replied. “Your crew might not make it in time. But Inger is welcome to join us now.”

  “How generous,” Ansdottir said. “Once we’re off this rock, I will catch you. And you won’t like what I do then.”

  Dag rummaged around in the boat. She grabbed a pistol and armed it with powder and shot. She handed it to Calder and readied another one for herself.

  She stood up and pointed the pistol at Ansdottir. “We could just shoot you and your friend and come get Inger,” she said.

  “That’s actually a good plan,” Calder said. “Tell me why we shouldn’t? It’s not like you haven’t ordered the deaths of whole crews just to take their ship.”

  Inger stepped in front of Ansdottir. “Because you’ll have to shoot me first. And I know Dag won’t do that, will you?”

  “Inger, what are you doing?” Dag asked. “Get away from her; we can end this right now.”

  “No,” Inger said. “I told you I’d made my choice. Why won’t you believe me?” She scowled, and Dag wondered how Ansdottir had again convinced her sister to side against her twin. Then she saw Inger’s right hand: her sister was us
ing an Intelligencer signal to tell Dag to leave. But why wouldn’t she come with them?

  “Inger, we talked about this,” Dag said. “You know how we both are.”

  “You can talk about your Traits,” Ansdottir said. “I know all about them. Enough to know that Inger can’t lie. So, when she says she’s chosen to be part of my crew, I know I can trust her.”

  Inger signalled again, disagreeing with what Ansdottir had said. Was Inger lying to Ansdottir or to Dag? And how could she when she shouldn’t be able to lie to either of them? Yet just as she had back on Strongrock, she was lying.

  “Dag,” Calder said. “We need to turn around now or when Ansdottir’s crew gets here we won’t be able to escape.”

  “All right.” Dag kept the pistol with her as she called directions to Calder. When she could, she stared at Inger and Ansdottir. What was her sister doing?

  Once the bow was pointed east, Calder looped a rope around an outcrop of rock to keep them in place.

  “That was interesting,” Ansdottir drawled. “The two of you have useful skills. Too bad you can’t be trusted.”

  “Neither can you,” Dag said. “As Ursa probably realizes now. You’re the reason she’s lost Hanne,” Dag continued. “And it looks like Inger as well. Ursa didn’t strike me as very understanding.”

  “Ursa and I go way back,” Ansdottir said. “She’ll get over it.”

  “Dag,” Calder whispered. “We need to go. They are not taking on water and Inger . . .” He paused. “I’m sorry, but Inger isn’t willing to come with us.”

  “You’re right,” Dag said. “Inger,” she called. “One last chance. Come with me back to North Tarklee.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you that I’ve made my choice,” Inger said. “Just go.”

  Dag met her sister’s eyes, and then Inger looked away. She sighed. Whatever Inger thought she was doing, by staying here Dag was probably making it harder.

  “Let’s go,” Dag said. She scrambled to the prow of the boat, leaving Calder alone at the tiller. As she directed them through the Teeth, she tried to ignore the fact that she was leaving her twin behind.

  It was half an hour before she looked back; by that time her sister was hidden behind multiple jagged spikes. She bit her lip and tried to fight her tears, wondering if she would ever see Inger again.

  JOOSEP HAD LISTENED outside the door for a few moments before easing it open. It was early, too early for the warehouse to have more than a single guard patrolling it. That man was now gagged and tied up behind a stack of crates. Since nothing in the warehouse had seemed out of place, Joosep was going to investigate any documents that might be kept in this small office.

  Once through the door, he crossed to the battered desk. The single drawer held a few sheets of blank paper and a dried-up bottle of ink: nothing to indicate that this was used as a place of business. So where was Tarmo Holt keeping his records?

  Joosep had already searched the man’s official office; that was where he’d found this address. A warehouse in a less than desirable part of South Tarklee. What was the Grand Freeholder—who was also Clan Freeholder for Nordmere—doing with any property in South Tarklee, Swyford?

  He reached a hand under the desktop to feel if anything had been concealed there, but he didn’t find anything. He stood up and sighed, staring around the small space. He had to admit that Holt might not have ever set foot in this office. He’d need to try his main office again. He must have missed something there. Or perhaps he kept his sensitive information in his home? Would he have to retract his order for Gustav to stay away from Holt’s home and send the lad there to search?

  He circled the room, checking corners and tapping walls as he searched out any secret compartments, but once again, he found nothing.

  He opened the door and stepped out into the warehouse, cursing his feeble Trait. And was slammed to the floor. Someone pressed down on his back, hard, and he struggled to draw in a breath.

  “We don’t want him dead,” a woman said. “But he doesn’t need to be conscious, either.”

  Joosep tried to roll away, but the person on top of him sat on his legs and pinned his arms to the ground. A rope painfully bound his wrists together, and hands encircled his neck. He struggled to breathe before he felt his consciousness slip away.

  HE WAS LYING on his side. Joosep gulped in a big breath and felt his throat burn. When he tried to move his arm, he realized that his hands were tied together in front of him. He rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling: undressed wooden planks spanned the small, dirty room. He moved his head to one side, feeling packed earth underneath his cheek, layered with dust. The walls were also rough wood. And permeating everything was the smell of old urine.

  It had the look of a stable, although one that hadn’t seen horses in years. He was alone and tied up.

  Joosep rolled his shoulders. He didn’t seem hurt, other than a sore throat and hands that were numb from being tied together.

  How much time had passed, and when would anyone notice that he was missing? That’s when Joosep realized that whoever had taken him knew who he was. No one had asked him his name; no one had asked him anything. Just that single comment about needing him alive.

  Which meant that Tarmo Holt had taken him prisoner. He closed his eyes, cursing his stupidity. He’d been an administrator far too long to simply start spying again. He must have made mistakes that Tarmo Holt had noticed.

  And yet another mistake: he hadn’t even told anyone what he was doing or where he was going. There would be no rescue even when he was missed. And who knew how long that would be? A week? A month? When would Arnor become worried? And what would he do when he did?

  Mentally, Joosep went through where his Intelligencers were. No one was expecting new assignments; no one was due back in to report. Dagrun and Calder were still missing, and there was no way to know when either of them would return. If Calder did come back to North Tarklee, how long would it be before he realized Joosep was missing? Would Luck show him where to look?

  The door to the room rattled and then opened. Joosep lifted his head to see Tarmo Holt enter, followed by a middle-aged woman and a solidly built younger man.

  “My good friend Joosep Sepp,” Holt said. He walked over to him and toed his leg. “It seems you were caught trespassing. Terribly inept of you, don’t you agree?”

  “I was just thinking that myself,” Joosep agreed. “My skills are not what they once were.”

  “Quite right,” Holt said. “But it’s a self-revelation that is bad for you and good for me.” He gestured to the woman, who stepped out of the room. “Because you’ve put me into an entirely self-reflective mood, I’ll tell you that I have no intention of killing you.”

  “Should I thank you?” Joosep asked. Holt might not kill him right now, but he couldn’t afford to let him go.

  “Gratitude would be appreciated,” Holt said. “But it won’t change what my plans for you are. Not after you stepped right into them.” He chuckled.

  The door opened, and the woman returned with a crude mug, a wrapped bundle, and a bucket. She set them all down in the middle of the floor and backed away

  “Some food and drink,” Holt said. “And a promise that I’ll be back to see you, eventually.” He smiled and left. The woman stood and stared while the man placed a boot on Joosep’s chest as he untied his wrists.

  “We’ll be guarding you,” the woman said. “So don’t go thinking you can escape. This,” she nodded at the items, “is all you get. Each day we’ll bring you new and collect the old.” She headed out the door, and the man followed her. Joosep heard a lock turning.

  He rubbed his arms, ignoring the pain as circulation returned. He was Holt’s prisoner, and it sounded like it would be for a long time. At least it gave him hope that he might survive this. But if he couldn’t count on being rescued, he’d have to try to escape. It looked like he had time on his side. Maybe that was the only thing he could count on.

  He
crawled over to the bundles: a mug of water, a slab of cheese, half a loaf of old bread, and a bucket, to use for slops. Not what he was used to, but better than many citizens had each day.

  CALDER HADN’T WANTED to distract Dag from the challenging task of navigating through the Teeth, so except for her terse directions, they spent the morning in silence. But he knew she was devastated at leaving Inger behind, and he wished that somehow he could ease her pain.

  “Left and then straight for two boat lengths,” Dag said. She looked over her shoulder. “We’re getting close. The path is widening out.”

  “Good,” Calder said as he pointed the tiller with one hand and adjusted the sail with the other. “We should be able to make it to Lavais Island by late day. Hopefully from there we can board a ship for North Tarklee. If not, then we’ll have to chance this little boat.”

  “You don’t want to sail this one there?” Dag asked.

  “A boat this size isn’t meant for long distances,” Calder replied. “As it is we’ll need good winds and calm seas to make it to Lavais today.” He looked up at the sky. The sun was beating down on them, but would it be the same tomorrow? “North Tarklee is more than a few days away, and being out at night in a boat this small is going to be very uncomfortable.” It would also be very dangerous in bad weather.

  “Left then a quick right,” Dag said. “Then go straight for . . .” She paused and stared ahead. “A long time. We’re not out completely, but there’s a big gap.”

  Once Calder had gotten them past the turns, he stood up and stretched. And grimaced in pain. He’d been leaning between the tiller and the sail for so long that his muscles had tightened up.