by Rob J. Hayes
“So what’s to stop…”
“The Scarred Man will not see you. You have already sent him one request, which he has ignored, and he will continue to ignore any further attempts. More rigid than rock is that one, and often I believe him carved from it. He will, however, respond to my advances. We have an arrangement, and between us, and those allied with us, we can sway almost any vote at the Council. No other guild can claim the same.”
Elaina made a show of sipping at her wine and regarding the Queen of Blades over the glass. She already knew she would choose the Blades as her ally. She’d known it from the moment she sailed into Larkos. They were powerful, they controlled the central district, and her father had specifically told her to gain the Blades’ favour.
“Reckon we have an accord,” she said with a grin.
“Excellent. There is a Council meeting in just a few days, as I am sure you already know, and I will escort you along as my guest and back your request. We shall see just how much support the other guilds are willing to give you, but I expect it will be more than the ten ships you secured from Rose.”
“I never told you how many ships Rose offered me,” Elaina said.
“No, you did not.” The Queen of Blades smiled.
Elaina continued to sip at her wine as the Queen instructed her on how she should present herself to the Council of Thirteen. It dawned on her that she’d just agreed to marry Drake Morrass, before he himself knew anything about it. Worse, though, was that she’d just agreed to marry Drake Morrass. Still, once they were wed and her arse was well and truly polishing the pirate throne, there was nothing to stop her king from having a tragic accident.
Chapter 24 - The Phoenix
“See anyone we know?” Keelin said as they floated in the bay, waiting for a spot to open up. It seemed Larkos was in a busy period, and every berth was currently in use either for loading or unloading. They had a hold full of pirated loot and a burning need to get it sold before some of it spoiled.
“Depends on your definition, Captan,” said Morley. “I see the Bloody Bride.”
Keelin knew the ship well. It had belonged to Arip Winters until the fool docked in Solantis during the slave uprising. Nobody knew if it was angry slaves or mercenaries attempting to flee the chaos, but someone had busted their way onto Arip’s ship and slaughtered him and half his crew. A couple of months later the Bride sailed into Fortune’s Rest under the command of a drunkard and his five friends. Drake purchased the ship for just a few bits and gave command to his first mate, Zothus. Keelin wondered how much of the rigging was made from the silk spun by that horrific giant spider Zothus kept around. He shuddered just thinking about it.
A small dinghy made its way towards them, rowed by four iron-collared brutes who looked a lot like rowing was their sole purpose in life. In the back of the boat, steering it, was a bored-looking young man with a ridiculously pointed beard and the air of someone who thought he was in charge of something.
“Ho there,” Keelin shouted down as the dinghy bumped against the hull of The Phoenix. “What can we do for you?”
The man with the pointed beard rose easily to his feet despite the rocking of the dinghy. “Are you the captain of this vessel?”
“Aye.”
“We have a berth opening up soon, but I’ll need to inspect your cargo before I can assign it to you.”
“By all means, come aboard.” Keelin turned to Smithe, who was lingering nearby. “Get the barrels of spice moved to the galley’s food stores quickly, then show the leech everything in the hold.”
Smithe frowned for a moment before breaking into a grin. He ran for the nearest hatch below, recruiting a few of the crew as he went. The surly quartermaster almost seemed a different man since he’d brought Keelin the chart of the seas around the Forgotten Empire. Keelin would never trust the fool, no matter how competent he became at his job, but at least Smithe was tolerable these days, and he truly did seem to have the crew’s best interests at heart.
The inspection went much as Keelin had expected. First the inspector looked around the hold and noted down goods and numbers in his little book. Then he asked how The Phoenix had come by the goods, and Keelin took great pleasure in telling the man of the ships they’d robbed. The tax the inspector laid down on them was extortionate, but Keelin knew full well what time of the five-year cycle it was, and the Clerics were no doubt busy extracting every bit of coin they could from all those who docked at Larkos. Luckily the most valuable cargo they were carrying was the spices, and of them the inspector found not a trace.
They were promptly towed into their assigned berth, and merchants appeared to browse the pirated items before the ship was even tied off. Keelin let them all aboard and held an auction for the less valuable goods. He always found it best to let the fools bid against each other with little to no involvement from himself. After the auctions were done, he invited some of the richer merchants into his cabin to discuss the prices of his more exotic items. Aimi accompanied him, because her head for numbers was impressive, as was her attention to detail. She’d long since taken over the job of keeping the ship’s books up to date.
After they’d found a buyer for the spices, Keelin gave Smithe permission to hand out the ship’s pay – ten silver bits per sailor. The crew seemed more than happy, and well they should; it was almost twice as much as most pirates would have received for their part in the taking. Smithe organised which of the crew had first, second, and third chances at going ashore, and for the first time in as long as Keelin could remember, everyone seemed pleased.
Watching Aimi depart the ship with Jojo and Feather and a number of other pirates, Keelin took in a deep breath of the salty air of Larkos’ bay and steeled himself for the next, and most important, job of his stay in the city. Unlike his crew, Keelin wouldn’t have the luxury of relaxing ashore; he was here for work.
The day was just starting to darken when he summoned Kebble and Morley to his cabin. He had three cups of rum ready and waiting when the two men entered. Kebble had miraculously made a full recovery from his injuries at the battle for New Sev’relain, despite the doc pronouncing him dead on at least one occasion. Morley, on the other hand, wore his scars on the inside, and it was clear to Keelin that his first mate was letting doubts about his captain creep into his heart.
“Sit down and take a mug,” Keelin said.
Morley glanced at Kebble suspiciously. Though the marksman wasn’t a true member of the crew, undertaking none of the responsibilities or duties for sailing the ship, he’d proven himself an excellent warrior and an invaluable man to have around. Even Morley couldn’t deny that.
“Drake tasked me with finding folk to sail and fight and settle on our isles,” Keelin said once both men were sitting and sipping. “Now, he reckoned my best bet was to appeal to the guilds, try to make them support us. I ain’t doing that.”
Morley smiled. “’Bout time ya started thinking for yaself again, Captan.”
Keelin let the insult slide. “I’ve got a better idea. I’m going to buy the people we need.”
“What?” Morley snapped.
Kebble remained damningly silent.
“Captan,” Morley continued once he’d glanced sideways and seen the dark expression on Kebble’s face, “ya can’t mean to participate in slavery. Ain’t a man in the isles would forgive you for it, least of all Morrass. I may not like the man, but his policy on slavers is something we should all look up to.”
“I ain’t looking to turn slaver,” Keelin said loudly, fixing both men with a stare. “I’m looking to turn liberator.”
“Eh?” Morley said.
A sly smile spread across Kebble’s face.
“I figure we buy the folk from the slavers guild, sail them down to the isles, and tell them they’re free to do whatever the fuck they please. They can hop the next ship going anywhere, or they can help us build and help us fight. I’m saying we give them the chance to start life anew and build something for themselves with us.
”
Morley drained his mug and reached for the bottle, pouring himself a large portion that just so happened to empty the bottle. Keelin smiled as he opened his drawer and took out another. Lubrication could only serve to help his argument.
“Thoughts?” Keelin prompted when it looked like neither of the men was going to say anything.
“Slavers guild don’t take kindly to folk freeing their property,” Morley said.
“I intend to make them no one’s property,” Keelin said.
“Kind of the point, Captan. Even once they’re bought, slavers don’t like folk freeing slaves. Bad for business. The isles got a fuck load of freed slaves already – more might raise the bastards’ ire.”
“I reckon that ire is likely already raised, Morley. Drake ordered our lot to start pirating the slavers to free their cargo.”
“One more reason not to visit the slavers guild, Captan.”
Keelin sighed. “I’m hoping news of it hasn’t reached them yet.” It was a circular argument at best.
“How will we get them to the isles?” Morley continued. “You promised the crew the next stop would be riches beyond imagining. I don’t think they’ll take kindly to more delays.”
“Next for us is the Forgotten Empire, Morley. I haven’t forgotten, and nor do I intend to change that plan. I will hire ships to transport the folk we purchase to the isles. I may even be able to convince Zothus to accompany them.”
Morley sat back in his chair, sipping at the rum. His face was caught between outright refusal and the need for the plan to work. He knew as well as Keelin that there was no better way to get the reinforcements they needed.
“Kebble?” Keelin said.
“A sound plan,” Kebble said as he smoothed down his moustache. “Far more likely than convincing the guilds of Larkos to help. Their time of change will soon be upon them, and it is past unlikely any of them will stick their necks out for us, even should we throw Drake’s name around. The slaving guild has polluted this world for far too long, and any move to undermine them should be welcomed.”
Both Keelin and Morley were staring at Kebble. “Uh, right. Just what I was thinking,” Keelin said. “Are we agreed then?”
“Is it required, Captan?” Morley said.
“Well, I’d like you both to come with me to the slavers guild. Backup and a united front, I reckon.”
“Aye,” said Kebble.
Morley chewed on his mug for a moment before nodding. “Aye, Captan.”
Aimi followed along behind the crew, happy to hang at the back with Jojo. She’d been to Larkos before, but never as a woman. The last time, she’d been posing as a ship’s boy, and that presented a whole different problem in the form of her crewmates buying her time with a whore and expecting her to do the deed.
Aimi had taken the woman to a room and, once the door was firmly closed, explained her situation. Luckily the whore was quite accommodating, and if anything seemed pleased that all she had to do to earn her pay was sit and do nothing. They’d chatted for quite some time until someone started hammering on the door. The whore arranged herself on the bed like she’d just received the best fuck of her life, and Aimi opened the door to find her crew cheering and whooping. She received quite the reputation after that for being hung like a particularly well-endowed horse. The memory brought a smile to her face.
The folk they passed gave the pirates a wide berth, all except those attempting to sell them junk, and plenty of stares were levelled their way. Sailors weren’t uncommon on the docks of Larkos, but the crew of The Phoenix were new and that garnered attention. Some folk wondered if they would cause trouble, while others wondered how well they could deal with trouble. It was always the same with pirate crews in civilised ports.
“Stick with us,” Jojo said quietly. “Pirates alone are easy pickings for authorities and thieves alike.”
“It ain’t my first time,” Aimi said. She caught the eye of a tall man dressed in a robe with a heavy cudgel hanging from his belt.
“The Clerics are a lenient bunch when it comes to punishment, but not so much when it comes to crime,” Jojo rasped. “They would happily arrest us all for little to no offence.”
Laughter broke out from a couple of the crew ahead of them, and Feather dropped back, a wide grin on his face.
“Usually it’s tradition ta buy the newest member of the group a good fuck,” Feather said to Aimi. “But it’s been decided that might not please the Cap’n too well, given that he seems to want you all to himself.”
“It might not please me either,” Aimi said with a scowl. “Any of you dumb fucks think of that?”
The laughter from up front fell silent.
“How about a tavern instead,” Aimi continued. “First round is on me.”
That got her crewmates cheering and laughing again, and Feather gave her a friendly punch on the arm. Aimi looked over at Jojo to find him smiling at her.
“That was well done.”
The group turned towards a nearby tavern with a giant anchor resting outside the door. Aimi narrowed her eyes at Jojo. “Never seen you go ashore before,” she said.
“You’ve not been with us for long, and never out of the isles before,” Jojo countered.
“Still…” Aimi sniffed loudly. “The Cap’n send you?”
Jojo smiled.
“I don’t need looking after.”
“I agree,” Jojo said.
“But Keelin doesn’t.”
Jojo shrugged as they arrived at the doorway to the Anchorage. “It’s not my place to say what the captain thinks.”
Aimi felt her mood sour a little. She wasn’t some dainty lass who had never got her hands dirty, and she knew full well how to look after herself. She’d survived for years among pirates, first as a boy and then later as a woman, and not once had she got herself into any trouble she couldn’t get herself out of. Except for that one time with Captain Ollo’s left boot, but Aimi didn’t truly count that one as it had only been half her doing.
The tavern was large and loud and well lit, with a crackling fire and plenty of lamps to show just what sort of clientele frequented it, and one and all they looked salty. Some looked up at the newcomers, while others were either far too occupied with their own business or far too occupied with their own unconsciousness. The bar was long and polished to a shine with a bear of man standing behind it. Behind him were row upon row and stack upon stack of kegs. Aimi had seen the inside of a fair number of taverns, but never had she seen one so well stocked. Each keg had a name scrawled upon the wood, and they ranged from the flamboyant to the downright ridiculous. She decided right there and then that she would try Yellow Maid of the Sea before the night was out.
The crew shuffled over to a couple of empty tables and claimed them for The Phoenix. A musician picked up a lute and started to play as the first round of drinks arrived, and before long they were all drinking and talking. Feather even gave them a taste of his dancing skills, though the man behind the bar scowled at the boy for jumping up onto the table. The conversation was free and easy, and Aimi found herself joining in more often than not. It seemed the crew of The Phoenix had accepted her just as she had accepted them. They worked their way through a good number of tankards, and as their purses got lighter, their voices got louder.
“Cap’n knows what he’s doing,” said Fremen, the navigator. By all accounts the man had been with Keelin from the very beginning and placed unlimited trust in him.
“Captain’s an arse,” Aimi said loudly, and waved her tankard around the room to make her point. She was angry at Keelin for sending Jojo to look after her, and finding it a little hard to shake that anger.
“You’d know,” Jotin said with a wink.
“I do know,” Aimi said. “I know better than anyone.”
Jojo placed a hand on Aimi’s arm, but she pulled away.
“We’ve known the Cap’n for longer,” insisted Fremen. “Hells, even Feather’s known him longer. Probably like to know h
im as well as you though.”
“I do know him well,” Aimi said as she slammed her almost empty tankard onto the table. “I know he’s an arse.”
Everyone laughed. Even Jojo joined in with a chuckle.
“All captains are arses,” said a big bald man from a nearby table. “Part of the fucking job description, eh?” That earned another round of laughter.
“What ship are ya from, lads?” asked Feather of the sailors who had hijacked their conversation.
“Barely West,” said another of the crew, this one tall and slim with sandy-coloured fluff on his chin.
“That name sound familiar to you?” Jojo asked Jotin quietly, a shadowed look on his dark face.
Aimi thought about it, but she couldn’t say she’d ever heard of the ship. Though that wasn’t surprising – there were plenty plus a lot more ships she’d never heard of.
“Well met ta ya, boys,” Feather said loudly. “The crew of The Phoenix drink with you.”
Feather and Fremen and most of the rest of the crew raised their tankards to their mouths and drank heavily, and, not wanting to be left out, Aimi followed their lead. She gulped down the last of her ale and slammed the mug onto the table with a refreshed sigh. It took her a moment to realise the crew from Barely West had risen to their feet, and there were no more smiles to go around.
“Is that meant to be some sort of joke?” the big bald man snarled.
“I assure you it isn’t,” Feather said, putting down his own mug and standing.
“We took their ship a year back,” Jotin said, a moment before the first fist connected with Feather’s face.
Chapter 25 - The Phoenix
Without horses it took a long time to walk all the way to the Stone district, and all three of them were aching and sore by the time they reached the slaving guild’s hall. The district was known for its artisans, almost all of whom made wonders out of its namesake, and it was a wonder to behold. Buildings rose high and proud and were adorned with all sorts of fanciful designs, from snaking patterns climbing up walls to creatures hideous and beautiful alike perching on top of rooftops. Some were locked in an endless battle, while others watched the good folk pass below through sightless eyes. Fountains depicted monstrous serpents and gods from all over the known world. Statues of heroes long dead but not forgotten stood proud against the rigours of time and weather.
