The Pirate's Lady

by Julia Knight

  “Not nearly good enough.” Her elbow arrowed straight for his nose, and when he twisted out of the way, they both ended up dumped on the floor among the manky straw and half-eaten food. She was on her feet before him, sword out and that damn grin on her face, taunting him with it. Rob, kill or delight? Odds were one in three.

  Van Gast didn’t draw his own sword but righted his chair and sat again. She was playing, he was sure of it now, and he had to stop the stupid grin that wanted to take over his whole face. If the game was over, he’d be dead already. So, time to play along. “You stole my ship.”

  “Borrowed, Van. Borrowed. I don’t like it as much as mine though. Maybe I’ll blow it up. That’d be fair, considering what you did to my ship, eh? Of course, I’ll play nice and I’ll make sure you’re not on it. More than you planned for me.”

  The racks around them settled down, though Van Gast noted more than one darting out the door. He didn’t have long before one of them would turn him in for the money. Ten thousand gold sharks was a lot to resist.

  Skrymir looked Van Gast up and down with a smug look. “Seems like I won that bet, Josie. Killing him won’t mean you don’t have to pay up.”

  “Bet?” Van Gast didn’t like the sound of that, couldn’t get used to the fact it wasn’t just the two of them in this game now, that others knew. “What bet?”

  Josie slid the gun and sword away and handed over three silver seals to Skrymir. “I said you wouldn’t be stupid enough to come here, knowing the Yelen are bound to have a price on your head. Worse, now the Remorian mages are in with them and you with a Remorian crew. And of course, me here wanting to kill you so badly. Skrymir said you were that stupid. Looks like he was right.”

  Van Gast glared at Skrymir but only got a sheepish grin in return. “Now hold on a—”

  “Hey, Josie!” A drunken rack in the corner, looking annoyed because the promised fight hadn’t kicked off. “Ain’t you going to kill him? I bet good money on you. A whole gold shark that you kill him in under a ten count.”

  “Not today. I’ve got his ship, I can afford to be generous.” Josie sauntered over with the grace of a dancer. “Today he gets a reprieve, and this.”

  She sat astride his lap, close and warm, and gods, was he tempted to screw the game, tell them all how the hatred was false, a game. Only now he wasn’t so sure whether the hatred was real or not. She was playing, but he wasn’t sure whether it was their game or one of her own, whether she’d tempted him here for revenge. Her arms slid over his shoulders and she circled her hips on his lap, slow and silky, her mouth curved next to his cheek. Just like she did when she wanted to get a mark onside, give them a hint of what they might get, and would never get. A game, a sham. A con.

  The whisper was a warm breath by his ear. “You followed. I was afraid you wouldn’t.”

  His own murmur had his lips on her neck. “I had to, Josie love. I can’t not.”

  “Good. Wait for my call, and we can be rich as kings. Richer.”

  She kissed him then, hard and furious, a brief, tantalizing glimpse of what she was, pushing him back in the chair. Then she stood up, gave the chair a shove and sent him sprawling in the filthy straw. “That’s all you’ll ever be getting from me, Van Gast, excepting maybe a bullet in the face. No matter how much these dogs tell you otherwise. And I’m keeping your ship. My ship now.”

  She strolled out of the inn to a roar of approval from the rest of the racks—seeing Van Gast in the straw was almost better than a fight, it seemed.

  Skrymir held out a massive hand to help Van Gast up and pulled him to one side, out of earshot of the catcalling racks. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

  “Thanks. I think. Is she—” Van Gast didn’t know what to say, what to ask. His mouth still burned from the kiss, his hands from her warmth against him, making his head spin, making him crazy. Close but not close enough. He found his purse and it was still there, still clinking with gold. “I’m still alive and I still have my money. I’m taking these as good signs.” No robbing, no killing, which left the delight. Perhaps.

  “Last week she was moping.” Skrymir shook his head, maybe in sympathy. Maybe not. “The week before, silent. Yesterday she cleaned out her gun while muttering your name and where she was going to insert the barrel. Today—I don’t know. Her mind’s on one thing. A twist, Kyr’s mercy, the biggest twist you ever thought of. Can we trust you? Do you trust her? Because you didn’t, couldn’t, and that’s hard to forgive.”

  Van Gast ran his hands through his hair. All this honesty was enough to bring him out in a rash. “Yes, she can. And I’ll trust her over everything else.”

  “Are you ready to prove that? That’s me asking, not her. You hurt her bad, Van, though I reckon you had your reasons. I won’t let you do it again.”

  “I’ll prove it any way you like. I’d oath you on it if I thought you’d take the word of a rack.”

  “Then may Kyr have mercy on you, because you’re going to need it. Kyr withdrawing her mercy is the proof of a woman when she’s crossed. And you crossed Josie in the worst way, for a woman, for a Gan and she’s both.” Skrymir planted a meaty hand on his shoulder that might have meant to be comforting, but only made Van Gast worry for his collarbone. “Look sharp, Van. She’s here for revenge, and some light robbery while we’re at it. You want to prove the trust? You want her back? That’s your chance, and I think she wants you to grab it, more than that, she needs it—you, whether she knows it or not. Listen hard for when she calls. Don’t fuck it up this time.”

  Chapter Five

  Rillen hurried along the pale corridors, past the blocky statues and badly daubed murals of dolphins and sharks and kraken that he was sure were only there because some previous councilor had heard of art and decided he must try some. His footsteps echoed among them, in and out of open archways that lined the corridor, through the plants that grew and tangled in every corner.

  By the time he made it to the council chamber, he was hot, wet with sweat, and irritable. He held it in though, at the sight of the mages up on the dais. One of their rebonded slaves fussed around them and another watched Rillen with blank eyes, her face smooth of thought or feeling and chilling his sweat. Was this another one of Old Toady’s stupid ideas that end up biting chunks out of everyone but him?

  He looked away, toward the toad form of his father. Urgaut blinked slowly and spoke without preamble, without even a greeting for his own son.

  “You’ve stopped watching for Van Gast.” Urgaut looked him up and down and snorted disdainfully out of flared nostrils. “But then, I hardly think you could watch unobtrusively, if this is the best you can contrive. You look like the bastard love-child of a painted whore and a dyer with no sense of color.”

  No, just your bastard love-child, and you’ve never let me forget that, have you? Rillen held it all in—it would achieve nothing except ridicule—and waited for his father to continue. Interruptions were not tolerated.

  “Arden would have made a much better job of it, would have caught Van Gast long before now.” Urgaut’s eyelids drooped, hooded his eyes against the barb he hoped to put in Rillen’s heart.

  Arden—yes, shame he was dead then really. Arden the perfect in their father’s eyes. Arden the legitimate. Arden, the one person Rillen had ever truly admired. He wished he could say the thoughts that sprang to mind every time he was in his father’s presence, but the dungeons were close, and dark, and full of screams. A small, sly dig was all he could afford until the time was right and he could squash little toady flat. “Maybe he would have, if he’d been sent to watch the right ship.”

  Urgaut’s lips twitched in annoyance and he cast a wary, sly look at the mages. They sat calm, seemingly uninterested, except Rillen thought that he could see a spark of concentration among the glint and gleam of crystals in one mage, the center one.

  Rillen addressed himself to that one rather than his father. “The Lone Queen is no longer Van Gast’s.” Give them a little, keep the rest,
keep Haban’s niece to himself for now. “But I have every confidence I shall be able to catch him.”

  “I doubt it, you little—”

  The mage cut off Urgaut’s latest stream of invective with the merest twitch of an admonishing finger. His eyes studied Rillen, the only thing about him that seemed alive, the only things that could move freely. So much power, but so little freedom. Yet Rillen would swap in a heartbeat just for the ability to make his father’s heart and soul twist in a bond. The mages had Urgaut in their power now, even if he thought otherwise.

  The mage crooked his finger, and Rillen approached. The stench of unwashed skin, of greased hair trapped in clumps under a swathe of glittering yet stinking crystals, made Rillen hold his breath. Not because if he got close enough a bond could be his reward. The smell, only the smell made him hesitate.

  “You’re a brave man, to come so close,” the mage murmured, then louder, “I have every confidence in your son, Urgaut. Let’s see what he brings us.”

  He smiled Rillen’s way, a careful smile, mindful of his crystals, and his eyes spoke many words to Rillen. Chief among them was a disdain for Urgaut, a wish that they not need to deal with such a man. Very interesting.

  * * *

  Van Gast sat in his quarters, going over everything with Guld.

  “Ten thousand sharks!” was about all Van Gast had managed to say for quite some time.

  “Well, um, we knew they’d have a price on your head. Not just that stolen diamond, you shot a Yelen man in Bilsen.”

  Well, he hadn’t—but his name was the one the escapees had heard. “I know, but Kyr’s mercy—I’m proud, Guld, that’s what I am. No one’s ever been worth that much before, not even half that much. Even old Faelin himself wasn’t worth more than five hundred, and he stole half the Yelen’s fleet before they caught him.”

  “Proud?” Guld looked at him sideways, as though he’d gone mad from the heat. “Really? I’d have thought itching to get out of here would be more like it. Um, I’d quite like to. Leave, I mean.”

  “First things first, young Guld. We have things to do here. Re-crew, re-fit.” Do whatever he had to, to gain Josie’s trust again, but Van Gast didn’t say that part. Guld knew, Holden knew—damn it, they all did. They all looked at him like he was crazy. He was crazy, but gods alive, this would be fun. If he got what he came for, it’d be worth it.

  “—the refit’s almost done,” Guld was saying. “We changed the names and figureheads before we even made land, and the rest was easy enough. Found a possible cargo, too, a good lot of silks. Bit smoky—the warehouse got set alight in the last lot of trouble here. Oh, and Holden’s got some crew.”

  “Already? That was quick. When I found out the Yelen were rounding up Remorians, I thought he’d have trouble.”

  “He, er, he looks different.”

  Van Gast stood and took his snifter of brandy over to the window next to Guld. Six new crew were just boarding the ship. An itch began behind Van Gast’s breastbone. Something was amiss. Just a tickle. Nothing much—yet, but something to beware of.

  Four men, two of them he recognized. Good enough lads, at least they should be once they were away from the temptation of Van’s bounty. A dark, leggy girl with rather extravagant charms who Van Gast knew—Gilda. Good, a few women on board always kept things a bit in line, made the men behave themselves in the hope of a tumble. Gilda should keep them all on their toes, or on their knees perhaps, because she was a saucy madam who knew just what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to say so. She’d be in among them all like a shark among seal-pups. Only possibly with more blood. Gilda glanced up at the window, caught sight of him and tipped him a saucy wink and a blown kiss.

  The last was a bouncy little lass with a wide, infectious grin walking next to Holden, who appeared to be blushing the same deep red as his new shirt.

  “Oh tut tut, Holden, and you a married man. He does look different, doesn’t he?” Van Gast had to hold in a chuckle. Holden was a stern man, serious and almost severe, and now here he was with a bit of bright color on him and his hair sticking out as though he’d just got out of bed. Blushing because a girl had her hand on his arm. His face went an even darker red as he got her aboard and she said something to him, let her hand linger on his. No doubt about it, the way she was looking at him, smiling up from under dark lashes. Holden turned away abruptly, looking stunned and bemused, and hurried toward Van’s quarters.

  “Good job Ilsa’s not here to see that. Where is Ilsa anyway?”

  Holden appeared in the doorway, his eyes daring Van Gast to laugh. “Six crew, all with experience. And yes, where is Ilsa?”

  “I, er, oh, she went ashore.” Guld wilted under Holden’s stare. “She said she had things to buy, you know, um, lady things.”

  “Lady things?” Van Gast snorted. “How long have you been a rack mage now, Guld?”

  “More to the point, you let her go alone?” Holden’s blush had gone, along with his self-consciousness.

  “I, er, well…” Guld couldn’t seem to control his lips and Van Gast rescued him.

  “She doesn’t need permission. This is a rack ship now, rack rules. That means ignoring whatever rules you feel like ignoring, whenever you feel like it. Unless I put my foot down, and maybe not even then. See? That’s what makes a rack a rack and not a merchant. They break the rules when they think they can get away with it. Much better to just imagine they don’t apply to you. I’ve told you all this, Holden. It’s about time you started to act like a rack. Brandy?”

  Holden scowled a no and stared out of the window, scanning Mucking Lane, no doubt looking for Ilsa.

  “She’ll be fine, as long as she doesn’t go too far. She could do with some cheering up, seeing the world a bit. So, these crew, anything I should know? No one chasing them for debts, hunting them down for murder, that sort of thing? We’ll be here a little while, I don’t want Yelen guards turning up. Gods only know what Gilda’s been up to. Probably broken half the men in port, and the other half are just waiting their turn.”

  Holden twitched a shoulder, which Van Gast assumed meant no. Then he frowned as a thought struck him. “Tallia. The small one. She knew who I was.”

  “The one making you blush like a girl?” Holden’s scowl was reward enough, so Van Gast didn’t push it. “How do you mean?”

  “She knew who I was. I didn’t give a name, but she called me Commander Holden.”

  Van Gast raised an eyebrow and wondered at the itch in his chest. “Interesting. The Commander could have come from your old tunic, the insignia. The trouble with uniforms, I’ve always thought. Besides, maybe you’re more famous than you think. They must have heard something about what went on. Holden, the man who killed the Master and set all Remorians free from the mage-bond. They’ll be singing songs about you by now, all up and down the western coast. You’ll be fighting the women off with a stick. Like Tallia.”

  He really had to stop needling Holden. It wasn’t his fault Josie had hoodwinked him blind, well, hoodwinked them both really, because Van Gast had fallen for her twist too. Anyway, Holden was just so damn serious about everything. It gave Van Gast a nervous tic.

  “Um, actually they d-don’t know,” Guld stuttered as they both turned to look at him. “I asked around the true-mages. Nobody really heard much at all. A massacre of racks, that got round quick, and that it was the Remorians doing it. After that—um, after that all they know is the Remorians all suddenly started raving, the ones who were here, and tore up the Godsquare, the licensed docks, inns, brothels, you name it. Fired their ships, at least four Remorian mages dead. They know the Master’s dead, the bonds are gone. That’s all, because the only people who were there to really know what happened are aboard this ship and Josie’s.”

  “You mean we went through all that, and no one knows it was us? I hope you set them straight, Guld. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

  “Um, didn’t seem wise yet. See, no one knows about Josie either.” Guld dissolved into a bl
ush bright enough to serve as a lighthouse.

  Van Gast turned back to his desk and poured another brandy. He concentrated on that when he spoke, that and the cool smoothness of the glass dagger in his shirt. “What don’t they know about her?”

  “Any of it, that she was bonded to the Remorians—that alone would be enough to give her trouble, don’t you think? That the racks might think she’d been one of them, maybe still is? They don’t know about, um, her and Holden, or you and her playing everyone for fools all that time, or any of it. It seemed best not to tell them. They think you’re after her because she stole your ship, that you hate each other still, like you were always pretending.”

  Van Gast had to forget what had gone before and think about how to make it up to her. Finally he found his voice. “You’re right, best they don’t know. So this Tallia girl, Holden. She didn’t know your name because you’re famous, but she did know your name. That makes my trouble bone itch, just a little. So keep an eye on her, watch her. If I’m honest, Ilsa being ashore makes me itch a little too. Send one of the new crew to find her. We don’t want trouble for our Remorians if they go ashore, so one of them will have to do. Gilda, perhaps. I know her of old, and she’s good crew. I’m going to see who I can find, anyone who might know where Josie’s berthed.” He raised an eyebrow as Guld opened his mouth to protest. “Yes, in disguise. I’m not completely reckless. You, Guld, I want you scouring every place a ship of the Ghost’s draught could berth.”

  “Van, there’s a thousand islands out in the delta. And half of those could be—”

  “Best get on with it then, hmm?” Van Gast stared out the window, wondering where she was, what she was planning. She must have known he’d follow her, no matter what she said, known he couldn’t resist the thrill of it. Knew, he hoped, that she could trust him, that he would trust her. He wouldn’t make that mistake twice. He blindly watched the comings and goings along Mucking Lane, noting the brawl at the other end, ruthlessly put down by a phalanx of guards. Estovan was different, more dangerous now, after all that had happened.