The Corsairs of Aethalia: A Thalassia novel

by Patrick McClafferty

  The Queen, resplendent no longer, but looking years younger, clad in simple traveling clothes, her blond hair tied back with a modest ribbon, turned to face the Throne Room. Court functionaries and courtiers jostled with each other, anxious to see the return of the Queen, and the return to the status quo.

  “It was an interesting adventure,” she began simply, “I found that I learned more when I was silent, than I did when I was continually screeching. Some things I heard I didn’t understand, but many I did.” She smiled, and there was a nervous titter in the audience. “My rescuers showed me more kindness and consideration than I deserved, and for that I thank them. Oh, and for my life as well, I might add.” Another titter. “Above and beyond any financial recompense than might have been agreed upon, I would like to bestow upon Jorse Schwendau, of House Schwendau, the island of Dun, which lies off our eastern shore, between Aion and Ischia. It isn’t much of an island, only a few thousand square miles, and a thousand or so people. The castle of the previous Duke, a vile fellow who drank and wenched his money away and nearly bankrupted his island, is yours. The island itself has made the crown not one single rappen in the past century, so financially it’s no big loss. Your authority to exist comes from the King of Aion, but the Duchy is independent, and in no way owes allegiance to this country. I believe that this should solve some small problems you have been discussing?”

  Jorse bowed deeply to hide the amazement he felt. “Thank you, Your Majesty. It does indeed solve my problems.”

  Kalista smiled, at him alone this time. “Give my best to your Duchess, whoever she may be.” Despite her clothes, the Queen did a perfect curtsey. “Your Majesty.” The King turned pale as he caught the honorific.

  Jorse returned the curtsey with a stately bow. “Your Majesty.” He returned the Queen’s smile, then turned to the others. “Time to go—right now!”

  As the small party made their way to the massive throne room door, Queen Kalista turned to the King and glared. “You and I.” Jorse heard somewhere behind his back. “Need to have a long talk, before I begin to run our country the way it should be run.”

  Anya’s thought crept into his mind as he walked through the doors and out into the bright sunlight.

  Jorse just chuckled.

 

  The official courier, dressed in blue breeches with a bright yellow doublet, had a rather wild-eyed look about him, as he handed Jorse a sealed document the very moment Jorse and company entered the Lion of the Desert. Granted, they hadn’t hurried to get to the Inn, and had stopped to pick up their meager belongings from the River Darter, but it still couldn’t have been more than an hour since they left the Throne Room. Jorse frowned, and Dala had a suspicious look on her face as he broke the red wax seal with his thumbnail, and quickly scanned the document.

  “I guess that it is official, now. I have been declared, by the crown of Aion, to be full owner of the island of Dun, along with the title of Duke Schwendau.” He turned to the courier. “Please convey my deepest regards to the Queen, and tell her that I most humbly accept, and with great thanks.” He looked at the shaking man with interest. “Things a little rough in the palace, right now?”

  “You have no idea, my Lord. The Queen, the Queen is a changed woman.” The courier stammered. “She inducted all of the courtiers into the army. They will be leaving tomorrow to clean the bandits out of the mountains. Have you ever heard of such a thing?” His hand shook as he turned to go. “There was some talk, just a rumor mind you, that the King will be, will be going into a monastery to study the holy scriptures for a few years. YEARS!” The young man was shaking his head in disbelief as he left the building.

  Jorse turned to Gorku and smiled. “Want a job?”

  The big man stared in surprise. “Whatcha mean? I jus dumb peasant guide.”

  “You can stop the folksy hillbilly act any time now, Gorku. I figured you out a few weeks ago.”

  “What you mean...” Gorku stopped and rubbed his jaw. “How did you figure it out, if I might ask?” His voice was deep and cultured, and he looked a little chagrined.

  You were a bit too quick on the uptake with Selene, and little things like flying people didn’t seem to faze you, so you obviously knew about it. Who are you working for?”

  “He’s working for me.” An embarrassed voice said behind his back. Jorse turned to stare open mouthed, at Dala. Mirek, he noted sourly, was having a hard time stifling his laughter. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard Anya chuckling. He thought, grumpily.

  Anya sounded as embarrassed as Dala, and for good reason, Jorse thought to himself.

 

  Jorse sighed and rolled his eyes in resignation.

 

  He was grinning again, when he turned back to the big man. “So, as I was saying, would you be interested in the job of seneschal at Castle Schwendau?” Jorse glanced at Dala. “Seeing as how this job is done, you won’t be needing him anymore, will you?”

  “Well...” Dala’s dark eyes were sparkling. “Maybe he could work for both of us. By day he could supervise and administer the estate, and by night oversee the castle spies.” She looked thoughtful, for a moment. With your own island you might even be able to set up a spy school.

  “Running both the spies and the household won’t leave Gorku with much free time, you know.” Jorse injected in a concerned voice.

  “He’s a big boy.” She gave the huge guide a winsome little smile as she patted his shoulder. “I’m sure that he can take care of himself.”

  Gorku frowned as he turned to Jorse. “This is a very dangerous young woman my Lord. Maybe even more dangerous than the Queen of Aion, and that’s saying something.”

  Jorse grimaced. “She’s had a very good teacher.” He grinned at Mirek. “Now... about the job.”

  The big guide tried to put on a morose look, but failed. “I suppose I’ll take it,” he said, giving up at last and letting a grin grow on his face.

  “Good.” Jorse smiled in return, then turned to the short innkeeper, who was standing behind his counter with a startled look on his face, nervously wiping his thick glasses with his white apron. “We need rooms, baths, hot meals and lots to drink. Can you help us?” The man’s head nodded so fast that Jorse was afraid it would fall off. Jorse picked up his saddlebag and threw it over his shoulder. “Well, lead on my good man. We’re wasting good drinking time.”

  Jorse was sitting in a tub full of hot water, letting the steaming liquid dissolve weeks of grime, and his eyes were closed. The bottle of wine sitting next to him was Vaigach Red this time. He had asked for it specifically, and it was nearly empty. He thought.

  He sensed a small smile.

  Anya was silent for some time, and he could tell that she was thinking.

 

 

 

  Jorse stared at the ceiling.

  Jorse finally relented when his skin began to prune, got out of the tub, drained the muddy water and dried himself off. He stopped suddenly, towel abou
t his narrow waist.

 

 

 

 

  He smiled.

  There was silence in the room, until a soft hand touched his shoulder.

  “Yes, I would love one. I might not have sore muscles or crusted dirt, but I’ve been living with it for months now, and I FEEL dirty.” She reached for the soap and turned on the hot water and Jorse, with a long sigh, left the bathing alcove, closing the door quietly behind him. “You could have at least,” the voice of Anya called through the closed door, “offered to wash my back for me.” Jorse stopped, smiled and turned, dropping his towel on the floor.

  “I don’t think that you should drink any more of that,” Jorse warned Dala, as she finished her third goblet of the potent local wine,” It’s really very strong and I...”

  “Nonsense.” Dala quipped, in a superior voice. “I can hold my liquor. Aunt Elsbeth made sure that I could drink, and not get drunk.”

  Gorku lifted a massive tankard of ale and grinned at Jorse, who was still sipping on his first glass of Vaigach wine. “You don’t care for our local vintage?”

  “I had a hangover for three days the last time I tried it. You were there. You should know.”

  The big man nodded in understanding. “So that is why you were so quiet and bleary eyed.”

  “I didn’t find out until the next day that the soldiers use it to clean their armor.” Jorse laughed.

  “It makes a good weed killer too. It’s one of the reasons I drink ale. Another is that I used to have three brothers, you see. The youngest was a nice enough chap, but he went on a three day binge one time, and the local wine was all he could afford.” Jorse shuddered. “The nice thing was that they didn’t have to embalm him. Hells, they didn’t even examine him. No one could get close enough. The fumes are just as dangerous as the wine itself.” Dala was finishing off another glass, and Gorku had a sad, knowing grin on his face. “We all have the right to make a fool out of ourselves at least once. Tomorrow will be her ‘once’ I believe. Shall we try to get her to bed?”

  “We can but try.” Jorse stood up. Dala reached out to a passing waitress and snagged a tankard of local wine and drained it in one long pull.

  “Therrrrre.” She mumbled with a smile, her eyes getting a little glazed. “I think I...” Her eyes rolled up in her head, and Jorse put an arm around her waist. Gorku pushed him out of the way and swept Dala up, as one might pick up a child.

  “Just put her on her bed, would you? I’ll get an empty pail from the kitchen to leave by her bed.” Gorku nodded, and headed for the stairs, Dala draped over his arms like a sack of meal.

  Limp and relaxed, Jorse was surprised at how young Dala looked. The stress of months on the trail had taken their toll, but lying there, she looked like a vulnerable child; a very drunk vulnerable child. He removed her clothes, folded them and put them on a chair before he pulled the sheets up to her chin. He couldn’t do anything for what she would feel in the morning but...

 

 

 

  Jorse could feel Anya reach out with his arm, and touch Dala with a finger. There was a blur of drunken speech.

 

 

  Jorse grouched.

  There was a sense of movement, and suddenly a new voice, a new presence was inside his head.

  The voice of Tessa was light and bright.

 

 

 

  Jorse laughed out loud at that comment. He could feel the two move away... and then they were gone.

  In his room Jorse picked up the royal deed and appointment. It was almost too much to believe, how things had fallen into place so well; it was almost as if things had been maneuvered. He was just a pawn on a gameboard.

  A scream from Dala’s room woke him up in the morning and, drawing his dagger and wearing only his smallclothes, he burst into her room - to find her being violently sick on the far side of the bed. Luckily, she had found the pail. The smell in the room was indescribable, and Jorse gagged.

  “Dala, are you all right?” He managed to get out.

  “No, I’m not all right. Do I look all right?” Her greenish face looked up from its position over the half full pail. “Get out, Jorse. Just get out.” Her eyes widened, and she quickly bent over the pail—again. Jorse got as fast as he could.

  The next day things were a little better. Dala was taking a little solid food and holding it down. Gorku had wandered down to the harbor to see what was happening, and Tessa was still visiting. Jorse was just glad not to be on horseback. After months in the saddle, his blisters had blisters.

  “Ho! Jorse!” Gorku was back to his folksy way of speech, just for appearance sake. “I think Altai has visitors.” He was grinning. “Corsairs come to call, they have.”

  Jorse jumped up and ran to the window. Sure enough, just sliding into the harbor were two sleek Corsairs, and both ships flew the black and silver pennant. He felt his heart beat faster.

  Gorku peered out the window, frowning. “I don’t recall Raiders ever flying house flags before. I’m not familiar with...”

  “I am.” Jorse broke in. “Those are my house colors.”

  The big guide looked surprised. “Elsbeth didn’t even know tha...” He broke off, reddening. “Didn’t know that Corsairs flew your colors.” He finished lamely.

  “Ahhh.” Jorse exclaimed, smiling. “The truth finally comes out. You really work for my aunt, don’t you?”

  “Your aunt?”

  “Really, old man. You should stay up on current events. Even Dobromil knew about that.” Jorse said smugly, rubbing it in for all he was worth.

  Gorku looked crushed. “My boss never tells me anything, I swear.”

  “So, my friend,” Jorse said, turning back to the window, “what ships do we have out there?”

  “The Evening Bird and the Liparus.”

  Jorse frowned. “The Evening Bird would be Lin, but the other. That’s a good question, and Lin being here could present a problem too.”

  “Oh?” Gorku said with some interest. “She an old girlfriend, perhaps?”

  “Perhaps.” Jorse sighed. “Well, let’s get this over with before Dala regains her composure.”

  Her voice fell as she caught his thought.

  Lin was waiting as Jorse climbed up the ladder to the familiar deck of the Evening Bird and her face was unreadable as he turned to help Dala onto the deck to stand beside him.

  “I didn’t realize that you were here.” Her voice was distant, and in a way uncertain. It didn’t sound like the Lin he knew at all. She blinked as she remembered her manners. “Welcome aboard the Evening Bird.” Her eyes hardened. “The ot
her Raider is the Liparus, if you haven’t heard. Her captain is, well, you remember Luka from the Evening Bird?” Jorse nodded. “Luka is the captain; he is also my husband.”

  Jorse took a quick step forward and hugged the now surprised looking woman. “Congratulations, Lin. I really am happy for you.” He said into her ear.

  She pulled back. “You’re not mad? I thought you’d be jealous or something.” Her face was a welter of conflicting emotions.

  “Lin, this is Dala.” Even more emotions seemed to ripple across Lin’s sculpted face, finally settling on a sort of embarrassed resolve. She stepped forward and hugged Dala, then held the girl at arm’s length, and smiled ruefully. “I could never get past the flying part. It seemed too unnatural to me. Too...”

  Dala just smiled. “You should have tried it - just once.”

  The other woman’s face was envious. “I tried. He wouldn’t take me.”

  “Oh?” Dala gave Jorse a long, speculative look. “My brother doesn’t talk about it.”

  “Brother???” Lin’s face went pale and her blue eyes wide. “I didn’t... I assumed...”

  “So, what brings you to Altai, Lin? It’s a long way off the beaten track for Corsairs.” Jorse asked, tactfully changing the subject before things got uglier.

  The woman swallowed, fighting visibly to regain her composure. “I was commanded to come, in so many words, by your overly clever aunt. She seemed to think that there might be some sort of trouble here in Altai, trouble that might need Corsair assistance.” Lin’s voice was heated. “And what do I see the moment we sail into the harbor?” She pointed to the castle, and Jorse turned to stare open-mouthed. On a flagpole, just below the colors of the King and Queen, flew the colors of house Schwendau. They were in a position of honor, in a position of visiting royalty. Something caught at his throat, and squeezed his heart. “You didn’t know?” He heard Lin whisper. He was kneeling on the deck of the Evening Bird, his eyes filled with black and silver. He was proud, yet he was terrified of what he had set in motion. The world was changing, and a sign of that was in front of his eyes right now.