by Rob J. Hayes
Daimen bit his tongue to stop himself cursing.
“I believe Drake Morrass wanted me and my allies in Sarth to attack Black Sands. I think he wanted us to attack the Pirate Isles. I think he wanted all you pirates terrified and running to him for salvation.”
“Yer a fucking liar,” Daimen said, with less conviction than he would have liked.
“I don’t think you believe that, Captain Poole,” the king said, pacing around the cell. “If you were willing to sacrifice yourself for Drake Morrass, then you must know him fairly well. Tell me, what would he be willing to sacrifice to convince you people that he should be wearing a crown?”
Daimen thought about it. There was no way anyone should have found Black Sands unless they knew it was there; it was hidden from all directions but one, and that one was well away from any sort of safe trade route. The Five Kingdoms and Sarth ships were sailing the isles like they knew them, instead of gutting themselves on rocks or crashing into hidden sandbanks. There was little that could explain it quite like a well-maintained chart.
“He betrayed you all,” the king of the Five Kingdoms continued. “You trusted him, and he betrayed you and left you for dead. You sit here rotting in a cell while he claims himself a king of the very people he plotted to murder.”
“That ain’t…” Daimen started. “Ya got any proof?”
King Jackt stopped pacing and shook his head. “I don’t think I need any, Captain Poole. If you need to ask for proof, then I think we both already know how much you truly trust Drake Morrass. You know he’s capable of the crimes I’m laying at his feet, and more than just capable – you know he committed them.”
Daimen hated it, but the bastard was right. Drake was more than capable of sacrificing an entire town to his machinations, and he’d been at Black Sands just after the massacre took place. He was the first to bring news back to Old Sev’relain, and he was the first to jump on the tragedy and start gathering folk to his flag. As soon as Black Sands was destroyed, there were some folk who suspected Drake had had a hand in it, but he managed to not only allay suspicions but use them to his advantage. It turned out they should all have kept on suspecting.
“Why are ya telling me this, mate?” Daimen said. “Ya want me to repent my allegiance just before ya hang me?”
The king shook his head. “I don’t want to kill you at all, Captain Poole. I want to offer you the same thing I offered to Drake. Lands and a title. I offer you legitimacy in return for helping me crush Morrass and the rest of the pirates.”
“Ya want me ta help ya murder all the folk of the isles?” Damien said, caught between disgust and rage.
“Not at all. I couldn’t care less about the backwards towns that infest the Pirate Isles. I have been targeting them only because I had no other course of action. If the decimation of you pirates can be achieved with minimal bloodshed of those not involved, then that would be my preferred method. Which is where you come in.”
The king paused. “You know the isles, and you know the captains. I would have you help me hunt them.”
“Turn on my fellow captains to save my life?”
“Save your life. Save yourself the pain of weeks of torture. Secure yourself a future, Captain Poole.” The king’s voice was stern. “And all you have to do is help me catch those who abandoned you. I’ll give you a day to think on it.”
“What happens if I say no?”
“The penalty for piracy is death by hanging, Captain Poole, and you are most certainly guilty.”
Chapter 21 - Starry Dawn
Larkos wasn’t just a free city; it was more like a small kingdom ruled by thirteen different sets of laws depending on which region you visited. It sat on the eastern edge of the largest, most powerful empire in the known world, and it resisted all attempts by that empire to engulf it. Elaina loved the idea of Larkos as much as she loved the look, smell, and feel of the place.
Ships nestled in the harbour like gulls fighting over a floating carcass, and Elaina spotted a fair few she recognised as belonging to known pirates. She looked out over the bay, but soon stopped counting the number of masts – there were simply too many. One of the joys of the free cities was that they didn’t care whether goods were obtained illegally; the merchants of Larkos were far more interested in how cheaply they could buy the loot than where it came from.
The weather was chilly so far north, and Elaina had chosen a heavy black jacket to wear over her blouse and britches. The jacket reached almost to the deck and gave her a distinctly menacing air that she’d helped along with a touch of dark powder around her eyes and a charcoal bandana to hold her hair in place. She would walk into the city as the proud daughter of Tanner Black, looking like a true pirate lord, and demand the assistance they needed from the guilds that ran the place.
“Ready to go, Cap?” her quartermaster, Alfer Boharn, said in his gravelly voice. She’d chosen to take the old Five Kingdoms veteran ashore with her because he had a few connections within the guild of Clerics. He was also as steady as a rock no matter how dicey the situation might become. Not that Elaina expected any trouble.
“Aye,” she said with a smile. “Rovel, you have the ship. See about hiring on a couple of new crew, eh?”
“Aye, Cap,” Rovel said. Elaina’s first mate had been outspoken of late in his desire for some good old-fashioned piracy. Unfortunately, Elaina had her orders from her father, and Tanner had decreed that she would take no ships on her diplomatic mission. Whether that was to speed her journey or ensure her arrival, Elaina didn’t know, but she knew better than to disobey her father with so much at stake.
Wandering down the gangplank with Alfer just behind her, it occurred to Elaina that none of her crew had asked for shore leave. It was true enough that they had only a few bits each to their name, but she wondered if the lack of piracy in the last few months had dulled their physical desires. Perhaps she would lounge around in Larkos’ port for a couple of weeks and give her crew an advance, to show them how much she appreciated their patience.
A number of merchant assistants had already crowded around the pier, and they were busy trying to get Elaina’s attention, no doubt clamouring to find which goods she’d procured and how cheaply they could procure them from her. Most of the assistants were fat, well-dressed, and sweaty despite the chill in the air. Elaina ignored them all and instead looked towards the harbour master, who was lounging on a nearby stool, a small ink-tipped feather pen walking across his fingers.
“Name?” the harbour master said without looking up.
“Elaina Black.”
“Odd name for a ship,” he said with a chuckle that no one nearby took up. “Still the Starry Dawn, is it?”
“Aye.”
“Do I need to ask your profession?”
“Ambassador,” Elaina said.
The harbour master laughed. “I’ll put that down just because of how absurd it sounds. Length of stay?”
“Couple of weeks, I reckon.”
“Two silver bits now and another twenty upon departure.” The man finally looked up from the pen walking across his fingers. He gave Elaina a wide grin and set about making notes in his book. He was a handsome young man, and sure of himself. Elaina considered taking him back to her cabin and convincing him he had nothing to be so sure about, but she had more pressing matters.
“Who’s in charge of the docks these days?” Elaina said as she reached into her purse and pulled out a couple of silver bits.
“Still the Clerics.” The harbour master stopped his jotting and leaned back in his chair, looking Elaina up and down with a grin. “At least for another couple of moons. That’s why the price for docking has gone up. They’re squeezing out as much coin as they can while they can. Never know where they might be next.”
Elaina nodded along. Larkos had a strange set of laws designed to equalise the power of the thirteen guilds that ran it. The city was split into thirteen districts, twelve public and one central one closed to the general populous.
Each of those districts was governed by one of the guilds, and every five years the whole system was shaken up. For five years the Clerics had held the docks, one of the most profitable of the districts, but in just a short time they might find themselves running the slums or the Breakers, and there was very little coin to be made in either of those.
Once a week the representatives of the guilds met in the central district and the Council of Thirteen decided upon any matters of importance. That was where Elaina would need to be heard, and the best way for her to get in would be as an invited guest of the guild that ran the central district.
“Who’s in charge of central?” she said.
“The Blades,” the harbour master said. “I could knock five bits off your docking fee for a couple of… favours.”
Elaina looked down him. He leered back up at her. “I could cut your empty head off your fucking shoulders for free,” she said with a grin.
He shrugged. “Your loss.” He went back to walking his little feather pen across his fingers. Elaina conquered the urge to grab it from him and snap the stem.
The city was bustling with life. The sheer size of Larkos put most cities to shame, and even Chade was small in comparison. Slaves were everywhere, either carrying goods to or from ships or standing around as their masters haggled and secured trade. Despite the chill in the air, the poor bastards were afforded no more clothing than they were when the sun was baking down, and Elaina wagered their iron collars got right uncomfortable in the cold.
The merchants were as easy to spot as their slaves. Even those who weren’t overweight and sagging were obvious in their finery. The docks were a place for sailors, and sailors rarely wore anything other than linen. The rich folk in their silks and other expensive fabrics were somewhere beyond obvious, and that made them pretty targets.
Thievery and other criminal enterprises were as ubiquitous in Larkos as they were in any city, and the punishments for being caught ranged from severe to final. The Clerics were fairly light-handed in dealing with criminals, and often a thief could get away with a flogging and some community service. Other guilds were less forgiving, none less so than the slavers guild, who would simply slap an iron collar on a criminal no matter how severe their crime. It served them both as a method of punishment and a form of income.
“Where to, Cap?” Alfer said. “Wouldn’t mind me some downtime if we find ourselves with some spare.”
“Ever been to Larkos, Alfer?” Elaina asked her quartermaster, already knowing the answer.
“Aye,” Alfer replied with a laugh. “Don’t reckon there’s many places I ain’t been.”
“Then you should know the chance of having time to find yaself a brothel is somewhere south of low. I’ve got one destination, and that would be the central district. I need to win myself an audience with the Queen of Blades.”
Alfer let loose a laugh, but quickly stopped at a glare from Elaina. “Fuck. I really hoped you might be spinning a tale, Cap. That Drurr bitch don’t see anyone.”
“She’ll see me,” Elaina said, setting her jaw and starting the long walk.
The sky had turned dark, and folk were busy lighting street lamps by the time Elaina and Alfer reached the wall that separated the central district from all the others. They’d long since passed out of the docks, and though Elaina had seen a good few Clerics, she’d had no cause to talk to any of them.
A large barred gate lay in front of them, with a wall extending from it that curved around out of sight. The central district was completely separate from the rest of the city, and very few even knew what it looked like within those walls. As they’d approached, Elaina had been able to see the tops of many buildings, and the guild hall used by the Council of Thirteen was without a doubt the largest of those, but they gave little indication as to the state of the rest of the district.
There was a small guard hut nearby, with a number of shadowy figures inside. In front of the gate stood no fewer than four Blades, resplendent in sky blue steel armour and each carrying at least four swords. It was well known that the Blades were trained in a style of combat used by the Drurr, and it was strictly forbidden for those styles and techniques to be taught to outsiders. The Queen of Blades was one of the few Drurr that the Inquisition allowed to live among humans. Elaina wondered if such a privilege was due to a deal struck, or simply the Inquisition’s fear of starting a war against the free city.
“Perhaps we should come back when it’s light, Cap,” Alfer said quietly. “Ya know, so there’s a few more witnesses around.”
“Scared they might kill us just for asking?” Elaina said with a grin.
“Fuck yes, I am, Cap. What’s to stop them?”
Elaina thought about it for a moment, but couldn’t come up with a single thing. The guilds ran Larkos how they saw fit, and she had no doubt they weren’t above a spot of murder.
“They wouldn’t dare,” she said eventually. “Me da would tear this place down to its foundations.”
Alfer snorted. “Ya da’s one man. This here is… Shit, I can’t count anywhere close. There must be more folk in one bloody district than the entire of the isles.”
“Stop ya whining, Alfer, and look surly. Ya know, dangerous. Like ya could take ’em all if ya wanted.”
Elaina strode up to the gate and the Blades guarding it, fixing a smug look on her face. A woman in sky blue steel stepped forward to meet her, one hand on the hilt of a sword and the other held out in front of her to stop Elaina’s advance.
“This is the central district, ma’am,” the Blade said with a kind smile. “I must ask you to turn around and leave.”
“Now that’d kinda defeat the point,” Elaina said, returning the smile. “I’m here to see ya Queen.”
“Then I am afraid your journey has been wasted. The Queen of Blades does not see anyone.”
“Now I know that’s a lie,” Elaina said.
Another of the Blades stepped forward, hand on sword hilt, while a third jogged over to the guard hut. All the while the woman who had stopped Elaina remained in front of her, and her brown eyes never shifted. A few moments later three more Blades stepped out of the guard hut and approached. They were clearly well trained, taking no chances when it came to possible intruders.
“Again, I must ask you to leave,” said the Blade, her hand still out in front of her to stop Elaina moving any closer.
“Don’t I even get to make an appointment?” Elaina said, realising for the first time she may have gone about things the wrong way.
“The Queen of Blades does not see anyone,” the woman repeated.
Elaina ground her teeth together, but getting angry wouldn’t get her anywhere. She decided on a different course. “Then how about you get a message to your bloody Queen, eh? Can you do that?”
None of the Blades said anything; they all just stood still and silent.
Elaina snorted out a laugh. “Ya tell her the future queen of the Pirate Isles wants to have a word, and we’ll see if she don’t see anyone. She can find me on my ship.”
Without waiting for a response, Elaina turned and strode away. She was beyond angry, but that rage wouldn’t serve her. Right now she needed to act with diplomacy.
They passed back into the docks district a fair time later, and Elaina let Alfer lead her to a tavern he knew to be frequented by a number of Clerics. She found a secluded table and brooded over a single flagon of piss-poor ale while her quartermaster reacquainted himself with some old friends and made a few overtures towards those in higher positions.
A handsome older man with a shock of grey in his close-cropped hair and a scarred jaw that served as testament to a number of brawl participations sat down opposite Elaina. The man had a winning smile and had brought with him a bottle of rum, which he pushed towards her. She hadn’t even finished her ale, but she took the rum and drained it by a mouthful. The fiery spirit did nothing to lift her own spirits, so she pushed the bottle back towards the man and glared at him.
“Beau
tiful women should not be forced to drink alone,” he said with a smile.
Elaina snorted. The only fool who had ever called her beautiful was Keelin. Desirable was something else though. “Ain’t forced if it’s my choice,” she said. “So fuck off.”
The handsome man held up his hands, then pushed the bottle back towards Elaina. The smile never left his face.
“I will leave, and leave you the bottle, Captain Black. And also tell you that your presence has not gone unnoticed. If the Queen of Blades will not grant you an audience, then the Nightborne will. I do hope you will consider us favourably.”
The man bowed his head, a sign of respect Elaina hadn’t expected, and stood. She found herself in a state of confusion. The man – a Nightborne emissary, she assumed – had sounded like he was trying to curry her favour. Elaina had never been given such a reception before; in fact, she was used to operating under relative anonymity. Her name had always carried some weight, once she let people know it, but it had always been her father who had given it that weight.
“Cap,” Alfer said as he wandered over, thumbing at the Nightborne, who was making towards the tavern door. “Anyone we should be worried about?”
Elaina thought about it for a moment before shaking her head. “Quite the opposite, I reckon, Alfer. He might just be our way into the Council.”
“Which guild?”
“Nightborne, apparently.”
Alfer sucked in a breath that whistled through a gap in his teeth. “Don’t go siding jus’ yet, Cap. Clerics are interested too. All ya need to do is strut up to the guild hall and knock, and Brother Hernhold will see you his own self. Ain’t many get an audience with the head without even asking.”
“Ain’t been here a day, and I’ve been turned away by one guild only to have two others come sniffing around.” Elaina drained her mug of ale as she tried to puzzle it all out.
“Guilds don’t offer nothing for free, Cap,” Alfer said. “Each one’ll want a piece of ya.”
