by Julia Knight
Van Gast blinked rapidly and took a bracing sip of his tonic, ignoring the scald to his lips. Waiting for Guld to laugh at him. A racketeer who wouldn’t take a tumble, who’d got himself in this state because of a woman. Him, Van Gast, known for his roving eye, for the way he took every opportunity, and it was all a lie. A scam to make his reputation as a racketeer of the first order. The racketeer. That meant nothing to him now.
Guld didn’t laugh. His fingers twined round and round themselves on the table and his eyebrows twitched, but he didn’t laugh. “A scam, all of it? But, Van, I don’t—”
“We do all right at trade, I can haggle with the best of them. Occasional ship boarded and taken sees us right, too. We make enough on that, to live. But we don’t just live, do we, Guld? We’re the ship to beat, the crew with all the money. Made ten times as much last year from her twists than we did from trade or taking the odd ship we found.”
“There was the Sea Witch, we made a lot off her.”
“We did, but she was just a lucky find. I’ve got five thousand sharks stashed away, Guld. Five thousand. Saving it, against the day. Buy each one of us a good house and some land, if the day comes we want it. But it wasn’t the money, I never gave a crap about that. Well, a bit. It was the thrill of it, always the exciting thing, the chase of getting what you shouldn’t, of winning. She’s the same and now it comes to it, I don’t care what else I lose, I can’t lose her. I’d spend every fish-head in my possession to find her safe.”
“And you’ve no idea where she might be?”
Van Gast stared into the dregs of his drink and shook his head. “She said to meet her here, she was going to have a surprise for me. You know as well as I do no one’s seen her since she sailed up Tarana way, and that was a month and more ago. She’s missed two trades since then at least, and now this.”
“Beneran,” Guld said. “Last seen tying up at Beneran.”
That name made Van Gast jump. He’d had no cause to think of the place for years. Beneran was a fishing village half a day’s sail from Tarana. A street, a square, a tiny dock, and that was it. He’d been a frequent visitor once upon a time, when there had been a certain young lady. Pretty little Tilly. But that was years ago, before it had gone badly between him and Tilly’s family, and he’d not seen her since. Before he’d met Josie, when he was just another rack crew-hand, before he’d had a ship of his own. Before she’d given him that with her twists. “What would she be doing there?”
“No one knows what she was after there,” Guld said. “Only she was seen tying up and then next day she wasn’t there, nor her ship.”
“Doesn’t make any damn sense.”
“And you’ve not heard anything?”
“All I know is she had Brandick buy her a load of toy men and then didn’t turn up to collect.”
Guld raised his eyes at that. “Toy men?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. They’re up at my house.”
Guld drummed his fingers on the table. The pensive look was gone, the stutter and the vague air of helplessness. “Have you got anything of hers, a hair or something like that?”
“I don’t think so. Why?”
“Might help me find her.” Guld stood up, purposeful now. “This house of yours, is it close?”
Chapter Eleven
Holden followed Josie closely down the steps to the jetty in the almost dark of a long summer’s dusk. They reached the gangplank, brightly lit with lanterns, and she looked up with a displeased twist on her lips. “That’s my ship, but it’s not my crew.”
“You think I’d let you sail off with them? I’d never see you, or Van Gast.”
She lifted her chin to look him in the eye—a challenge. As though she still needed to test him and find the chink in his character. Or rather the character he had now, as opposed to who he had been.
“And if you send me in a ship full of Remorian men, he’ll sniff them out from fifty leagues. He’ll know they aren’t my crew—and he’ll know what they are. That’s how come you never caught him before. Too bloody obvious, you are. I can smell a Remorian from a hundred paces.”
Holden allowed his smile to show. “The crew aren’t Remorian born, they’re bond-ganged mainlanders. Not so easy to tell at first glance. I know what you’re trying to do. It won’t work. I don’t trust any word of yours. I’d be a fool if I did. If you want the boy, free and unbonded, you’ll do as I say.”
She shrugged. “Then you won’t get Van Gast. You can’t chase him. He’ll get away, he always does. So you need to lure him, appeal to his greed. Give him something to want, make sure he knows where it is—and then make sure you’re waiting. Don’t chase him. Trick him into finding you, somewhere close to Remorian waters. You can’t do that if he smells you Remorian piglets. Me, my ship, my crew, that he might trust. Might. He’ll suspect I’m tricking him, trying to twist him, that I’m the cause of his itch of trouble. He won’t suspect you.”
Holden said nothing for a moment, considering. Vast Gast always seemed to know when a Remorian ship was about to hove into view across the horizon or a hand land on his shoulder. They would get close and then…he’d be gone. His infamous little-magic giving him the edge. What she was suggesting was very close to the Master’s plan, and if she was willing to help rather than fight, it might be worth taking.
“Your crew are already on board, those who are still alive. Brigged and bonded. To ensure your obedience. And when we do come into view, me and one other of my crew with you at all times. Another four to stay with your crew, at all times. If necessary, I’ll have some of yours on deck so he knows them, but with no weapons.”
She snorted a derisive laugh. “Do I have a choice? Can you manage not to behave like a Remorian man for five minutes?”
“Oh, we will. You can pick the other out yourself from my crew. One most likely not to be sniffed out.”
For the first time she smiled with some warmth behind it. Not the Joshing Josie grin but a real smile. “I shall enjoy that.”
“You aren’t here to enjoy yourself.” Holden made himself stern with her to cover his misgivings and shoved her toward the gangplank. She shuffled up in her shackles.
“Got to get your enjoyment where you can.” She began to whistle one of the more lewd sea shanties. “Never know if it might be your last.”
Holden tried not to hear what she said—it tallied too closely with what he was feeling.
They passed a knot of his men sorting the rigging. Josie stopped and looked at them intently. Holden gave her another shove, but she pushed against his hand. “Who’s the one that looks like a gorilla with its hair shaved off?”
Holden looked to where she nodded and couldn’t suppress a smile. Gods damn, but Skrymir did too, he stuck out like a fox in a henhouse. Not usual sailors, the Gan, or not here in the Archipelago at least. Holden called him over and Josie looked up at him, and up again, with as much confidence as if she held a knife to his groin.
Skrymir’s face was steady enough—the Gan were much sought after as sailors, rare though they were. Stoic and practical to a man, so hidebound to their own peculiar honor they’d do anything their captain said. Once they took oath to a ship or captain, they believed their soul forfeit if they should break it. They didn’t need mage-bonds, not like the rest, and that was useful at times, to have an unbonded man aboard. The fact Skrymir was so big, so brutal and a handy man with a sword was just an added bonus.
Josie jerked her head at the braid Skrymir wore over his right ear, threaded with blue over white. “Brimeld’s house. Sad business.”
Skrymir started and looked at her more intently, especially at a braid she wore over her ear, black and gold, gleaming amongst the other braids and plaits and beads. “Jornn’s house. Aye, sad enough. Never would have took you for Gan.”
Neither would Holden—she’d never said, that he could recall, though it explained the fair hair, so rare on the islands or mainland coast. She was very slight compared to the other Gan he’d seen
and sailed with, but he’d only ever seen the men. He laid a hand on Josie’s arm and pulled her away. Gan were an odd bunch, with an odd sort of code. He didn’t want her getting any ideas about Skrymir helping her.
“What’s he oathed to?” she asked.
“Me, so don’t be thinking what I can see you thinking. If you’re Gan, you’ll know as well as I he won’t break that.”
“Oh, only a bit Gan. About as much as one leg. This one, want to see?” She shook the leg with its anklet of bells.
Holden tried to ignore her and took her over to the captain’s quarters, her quarters, where he’d installed his own gear. No more room in the brig and, besides, Josie was a crafty one. He wanted to keep her where he could see her.
“You’re in here with me.”
She looked around, glancing over at the worn oak desk, the captain’s chair, comfortably upholstered in leather, a vibrant rug underneath it all in golds and reds. He’d had most of the rest of the furniture taken out except the big bed and the smaller one he’d had installed in the far corner.
“Oh, like that, is it? I don’t like what you’ve done with the place.” She headed for the large bed, sat down and struggled with her overshirt. “How am I supposed to get undressed with these shackles on?”
“You can sleep in your clothes. In that bed.”
She stopped her struggle with the shirt and wrinkled her nose. “In my clothes? While I appreciate your propriety, I’m going to stink like a Remorian before we find him. And I don’t like to stink.”
She’d got the overshirt undone and it hung loosely about her, letting Holden glimpse the flimsy undershirt and the hint of what lay underneath. The bruises had faded under the healer’s touch, and what was left was pale, smooth skin swelling against her shirt. He tried not to look but she twitched the corner of her mouth when she caught his glance.
“So, what’s your grand plan then?” she asked.
Holden dropped into the captain’s chair and swung it about so he wasn’t looking in her direction. “Why should I tell you? All I need to know from you is where to sail.”
Footsteps rang on the boards as she came to him and swung the chair back round. Lamps hung from the beams above, swaying gently with the movement of the ship, and light flickered about her, caressed her skin and made it golden and tempting.
She smiled her lopsided grin at him and his stomach clenched. Robbed, dead or—no, none of those things. He was here to do a job, not indulge himself, and he’d see it done. He had no choice in that, only in the how of it, and not much choice in that either. More than enough opportunity for all he could desire after, when the Master loosened his bond. Maybe he could even take the opportunity with Josie, dangerous though she was. But not now.
“I told you, just sailing after him won’t work, even in my ship. That won’t fool him for more than a heartbeat.” Her voice was very soft, little more than a whisper, and it seemed smooth as calm water, hypnotic. “You need to—”
“I need to not listen to someone with a vested interest in escaping me.” He couldn’t let her do it, for his bond, for his life he couldn’t. Couldn’t give way to dreams of air, things that could never be. “And if you do, the boy’s good as bonded. He’s down in the brig, nice and safe. Any trouble from you, he’s a very bonded boy. Who is he?”
The interrogators had tried all they could, at least all they officially could and one or two methods besides, but no one was talking. The mages had tried, looked inside the heads of the men they’d bonded, and found nothing. Even a mage of the power couldn’t see inside the head of the unbonded, and the Master didn’t want that for the boy or Josie yet, not unless it was necessary. Unusually lenient, for him, and something that made Holden ponder. Only the lad and Josie knew who he was. The boy refused to give a name, and they hadn’t pressed too hard. If he died, they’d have nothing to bargain.
“No one you’d be interested in,” Josie said. “So, the plan?”
“First tell me where we need to sail to.”
She watched him steadily, then shrugged as if it made no matter. “Sarigin.”
“What in the world would he be doing there?” Sarigin, as far south as it was possible to go on the mainland, was no haven for racketeers. Little or no trade, no merchantmen to plunder or miners to scam. Just a small town in a land of vines and large cats and tiny fishing villages.
“Doing what he always does. Making money. He won’t be far from there. Not this time of year.”
“How do you know that for sure?”
She said nothing but wandered over to the desk and fiddled with the parchment on top. Nothing there she shouldn’t see, so he didn’t protest.
“So, Sarigin. No deepwater harbor so he’ll be anchored offshore. Once we’re there, you find out exactly where he is, the ships standing off will follow us, and we’ll take him. If he sees your ship, you and your crew on it, he won’t expect Remorians.”
She laughed to herself and doodled something on one of the parchments. “Oh, he will. He’ll smell you coming, he’ll escape, you’ll blame me and I’ll end up with a bond. Or hung. I don’t like your plan, Holden. Don’t like it at all.” Something about the tilt of her head in the lamplight, the bitter set of her mouth, made him think this was the closest to any truth he’d yet had out of her. Made him think other things about her too, but he squashed that and tried to concentrate on the job in hand.
Holden cleared his throat. “And I suppose you have a better idea?” His reasoning for keeping her in here with him, at least in part. Along with maybe trying to both gain her trust and find some chink in her armor, over and above the boy. Something he could use to keep her in line rather than have her mage-bonded, and use to make sure he got that bastard Van Gast this time. That was what he told himself, anyway.
If he couldn’t find that chink, he’d have to have her bonded, because he was sure the boy wouldn’t be enough on his own, not for long. Racketeers held no loyalty to anyone for long. Besides, she’d be more use without the bond. Holden wouldn’t willingly take that from her, take any last bit of freedom she might be clinging to. When men were bonded unwilling it killed them, in time, that loss of themselves. He didn’t want to see her dead. Didn’t even really want to see her trapped like this. It was like caging a bird so close it couldn’t even flap its wings.
Josie sighed, as though there were many things she could think of she’d rather be doing. “Oh yes, I’ve a much better plan. One that might actually work. Van’s got two weaknesses. He loves to steal, and he loves chasing some pretty bit of tail. If he can steal a bit of tail from another man…likes the challenge, it’s what he lives for. All right. The plan. Ten Ruby Trick we used to call it. We find Van Gast and we offer him a proposition. We appeal to his greed, something he has a lot of.”
“First flaw in your plan,” Holden said. “Why would he take up a proposition from you?”
There was that grin again. She stepped closer and it was all Holden could do not to reach for his pistol. With a soft laugh, she sat astride him on the chair, the shackles on her ankles tight around his legs. He should tip her off but found he didn’t want to. The scent of her brought back too many memories. Besides, he wanted to hear what she had to say. If it helped him find Van Gast, it’d be worth it. He need not take any of her advice, but he had to stay smart and she knew Van Gast better than anyone else alive, even if it was only in hatred.
She leaned forward and her breath was on him, tickling at his cheek, and it was as though he was under some spell, the magic of the forgotten past revisited. “Because of this. Me and Van Gast, we know each other. Intimately, as only the best of enemies can. He thinks he knows me and how I work, but I know I know him, and I know something he doesn’t know. If I give him an offer he can’t refuse, all he’ll think is I’m trying to rob him, twist him, not turn him over to the Remorians. He’ll guard against theft or trickery, think that’s the trouble that’s coming. Not your men. If it’s me, what he’ll do is try to twist me back so hard I bl
eed and, when he tries, that’s when you take him.”
“So we, er, we proposition him. With what?”
When she slid her arms over his shoulders he didn’t hear what she said at first, too intent on her touch. “With his own greed. And rubies.”
“What rubies?”
She sighed and the sound swelled through him like a riptide. “The fake one you found in my gear before you gave me my clothes back. You did find it and then put it back?”
Her hand reached inside her shirt and pulled out what looked like a ruby the size of his thumb. He’d had his assayer check it while she was in the cells. It might look like a ruby but it was little more than worthless, except for its novelty value. She flicked the stone across her knuckles and back again. She kept her eyes on his and they were a deeper color in the firelight. A dark grey-blue, like a thousand fathoms of sea. “This ruby. Good enough to fool him, for long enough. He’s no assayer, his little-magic doesn’t run that way.”
He didn’t want to go on with this. Didn’t want her to try her tricks on him, because he was afraid if she went much further he might fall for them. But they were here, alone, and she wasn’t scathing him. She was a free woman, free from the bond, and she was taunting him with herself, with her freedom.
“And then I tell him where we can find ten more, just like it.” Her voice had gained a burr to it, a husky edge, and the pupils of her eyes were wide and black. She shifted on his lap and his heart sped up a notch. The fog was almost gone, just shreds and tatters in his mind. “And I tell him about you and how you can help us get them, and how he can help me scam you, how together we can twist the Remorian man. You say you can get us in, and out. Unseen, undetected. Appeal to his greed, his pride when I say he’s the only man good enough for the job. And how I’ve got you twisted…round…my…little finger.”
