As he waited for his food, Soren looked around. After the bright warm sunlight outside, the tavern was cool and dim. There were a couple of men sitting at tables. Soren thought about Sancho Rui, and his sword and dagger. He wanted them back, but didn’t see a way to get them. He could spend years chasing Rui around the sea without ever finding him. He could stay there to seek the pirate out in the hope of recovering his sword or return to Auracia to continue practicing the Gift and preparing for his revenge on Amero. It hurt to give up on his weapons, but he had higher priorities.
Hunger certainly made for the best sauce and he made short work of the large plate of food when it arrived. He ordered a second plate as another man walked into the tavern. He also sat at the bar and struck up a conversation with the barkeeper. Soren recognised the man’s accent as Ruripathian.
There was something else that seemed familiar about his voice. Soren didn’t want to draw attention to himself, so he tried to look at the man out of the corner of his eye. The Ruripathian was tall and slender with black hair tied back from his face, with a neatly trimmed moustache pointed at the ends, after the popular Ruripathian fashion.
On the occasion of their previous meeting the man had styled his facial hair differently, but Soren recognised him.
His name was Rodolfo Varrisher and he was one of a breed of merchant captains that were peculiar to Ruripathia. The seas around Ruripathia froze every winter and the challenge of bringing out the first and last cargoes each year had become a sport. When Soren was in Ruripathia, Captain Varrisher was fêted as the champion of dodging the sea ice. It was a position of some celebrity and the fame had gone to Varrisher’s head. Soren remembered him as being obnoxious and arrogant and they had even come to blows. It was an acquaintance that Soren had no desire to remake.
Soren was faced with the difficult choice of finishing his second plate of sausages and eggs or leaving in order to avoid being seen by Captain Varrisher. The food won out and he hoped that as long as he remained hunched over his plate and kept to himself he could remain unnoticed. It had been some time since they had seen one another, and Soren’s appearance was considerably different. He was scrawny, scruffy and filthy and far removed from how he had looked when he had been in Ruripathia, a well dressed, well fed Academy student with the world at his feet.
Varrisher turned his back to the bar and surveyed the taproom of the tavern. His gaze stopped on Soren, who willed himself to sink into the wooden bar counter.
‘I know you, don’t I?’ Varrisher said.
Soren stopped mid-chew. It seemed his hopes were not to be realised.
‘I don’t think so, no,’ Soren said. He kept looking ahead, hoping that if he avoided eye contact Varrisher might just leave him alone.
‘No, I do. I’m sure of it. I’m Varrisher, Rodolfo Varrisher. We met once, at the Royal Palace in Brixen, three years ago or so as I recall. You’re Tyro Soren, or were, you must be a banneret by now. I’m right, am I not?’
Seeing no reason to prolong what was clearly a futile subterfuge, Soren decided to come clean. ‘Ah yes, I remember now. How are you?’
‘I’ve been better to be honest, as appears to be the case for you too,’ Varrisher said. ‘The last time we met you were under the patronage of Duke Amero. I presume that’s no longer the case?’
‘No,’ Soren said, ‘we decided to go our separate ways.’ He wondered if Varrisher would leave him alone if he was as rude and unforthcoming as he could be. He tried not to get his hopes up again.
‘Well, I don’t know if you’ve heard, I expect I’m the one bringing the news to the island, but Amero, the “Tyrant of Ostia” as he’s being called now, is also master of Ruripathia,’ Varrisher said.
This caught Soren’s attention. ‘Brixen’s fallen?’
‘Yes, two months past,’ Varrisher said. He sounded dejected. There was none of the haughty arrogance that Soren remembered.
‘The Royal Family?’ Soren said.
While in Ruripathia, he had struck up a friendship with Princess Alys, the daughter of Prince Siegar, the hereditary ruler of Ruripathia. He hoped that she was safe, but if she had fallen into Amero’s control, that was unlikely.
‘I’m afraid I don’t know,’ Varrisher said. ‘I was at sea when the war started. By the time I returned home the Ostians had blocked access to our ports. I tried running the blockade a few times, but our fleet had been defeated by then and there was little I could do; mine is not a warship, not for that type of fighting anyway. I carried dispatches to Venter seeking help, but they were unwilling, as were the Humberlanders, the Mirabayans and the Estranzans. No one wants to stand against Amero when he’s not knocking on their front door.’
The conversation had already gone farther than Soren would have liked. He was sorry for what had happened in Ruripathia, and hated to think something bad had happened to Alys, but they all had their own problems, and Soren wasn’t interested in hearing Varrisher’s.
‘When I got to Estranza, word had already arrived that Brixen had fallen. There didn’t seem to be any point in going back, so I came here instead. My plan is to load up with spices once I’ve got some money together, take it back to the mainland — Venter probably — and try to set up my own trading company.’
‘How long have you been here?’ Soren said.
‘On and off for a few weeks. You?’
‘Just arrived.’
‘I offered my services to the Governor when I first got here, but he seems to have plans of his own. When the war started all of our naval vessels were called back north, which left the Governor with a pirate problem. He seems to have negotiated a deal with one of them, which takes care of that. He doesn’t want to upset things, so my ship and I are surplus to requirements. I was hoping to get work as a pirate hunter here to build up funds for my spice trading plans. No luck.’
Varrisher was being far friendlier than during their previous acquaintance, which came as a surprise. There hadn’t been one boast or one slight against Soren in their conversation so far. It occurred to him that perhaps, despite his dislike of Varrisher, the man was just pleased to see a familiar face from a home and time that was now lost to him.
‘You know, I feel I should apologise to you. I didn’t behave well the last time we met.’
Soren had to control himself not to react with visible surprise.
‘I won’t make an excuse for my behaviour, but I’d only begun to establish myself as a captain and perhaps I was trying too hard to find a place for myself in court. It’d been going well enough, but when you arrived, I was quickly forgotten. I took that out on you at the time but I realised later that the court’s interest flitted from novelty to novelty as often as the tide turns. After you it was someone else, and someone else after them. I’d just been the novelty of the day before you arrived, and in my naivety I thought that would last. So, please accept my apology,’ Varrisher said.
Surprise compounded surprise. Soren had put up with barbs from Varrisher during his time at the Ruripathian court in Brixen. Their brief acquaintance had culminated in what had been described at the time as a friendly demonstration of differing techniques of swordplay, but had in reality been a duel that had descended into less than friendly behaviour. Soren had come out of it the better, but the apology seemed sincere.
‘Apology accepted. Please also accept my apology for the part that I played,’ Soren said.
‘Excellent. It’s all water under the bridge anyway, and now here we are sitting miles from home in a sweaty little shithole of a town. If it were later in the day, I’d drink to it!’
Soren couldn’t help but laugh. Varrisher was right. The lives that both of them had seemed destined for when they had met previously were irreparably lost to them.
‘Not quite where I expected to end up, but here we are,’ Soren said.
‘Well, I’ve told you my tale of woe, what misfortune brings you to Valkdorf?’ Varrisher said.
Soren launched into an abridged version of the pa
st few weeks, leaving out his visit to the Shrouded Isles and focussed on the events after the storm.
‘It’s interesting that you should mention Sancho Rui. What did you make of him?’ Varrisher said.
‘Arrogant, vicious, not as brave as he’d have you think. He murdered some good men from the ship I was on. Stole my sword. I’d very much like to have another meeting with him on more equal terms, but that’s not realistic.’
Varrisher nodded. ‘What are your plans now?’
‘I’m going to try to find a ship that’s headed for the mainland. The sooner the better,’ Soren said.
‘Rui’s prohibited from landing on this island, which is the reason for the argument you got caught up in. Ramiro Qai made an exclusive agreement with the Governor and got all the other pirates to abide by it. The Governor turns a blind eye to Ramiro basing himself here and Ramiro doesn’t harass the local trade. Anyone else gets their plunder confiscated if they’re caught. It’s the closest island to the mainland in the east, so it’s always been a popular spot for the pirates.’
‘Why’s that?’ Soren felt churlish for his earlier behaviour and wanted to try to make more of an effort.
‘Ruripathia was never as hostile to pirates and their trade as other countries, so there are always plenty of buyers here for their plunder.’
‘Rui and Qai both talked about “the Accords”,’ Soren said.
‘After the Governor made his agreement with Qai, there was danger of a pirate war, so they sat down and signed accords that carved up the Isles between them, formed an organisation called the “Conclave”, a guild for pirates. They’re all allowed to stop here for water, but nothing more. How long ago did you see Rui?’
‘A few hours at most, I can’t say for sure.’ Soren didn’t want to mention the fact that he’d been unconscious.
Varrisher thought for a moment. ‘Sancho Rui’s been upsetting the order of things here lately and there’ve been rumours that trouble would flare up again. A few months ago he captured a Shandahari ship, the Gandawai, that was on its way to Kirek in Shandahar. It was carrying a Shandahari princess and her wedding dowry. An absolute fortune in gold and jewels that boggles the mind. It’s the biggest haul that anyone’s ever heard of, and it’s given Rui the wealth to start trying to muscle the other pirates off their territory.’
‘Well, I hope they kill him. He’s murdering scum and the fewer there are of his kind in the world, the better.’
‘The Shandahari aren’t too happy with him either. I’ve just come back from Shandahar myself,’ Varrisher said. ‘The Khagan of Kirek, the one meant to be marrying the princess, or “rala” as they’re called there, has offered a bounty on Rui’s head. A big one. I mean to claim it. It’s big enough for me to buy a trade concession here in the Isles, fill my hold full of spice and sell it all for a fortune when I get to Venter. My lads are re-victualing my ship, Typhon, now and we set sail to hunt down Rui as soon as she’s ready. With what you’ve told me, it sounds like we’re closer to his trail than I’d hoped.’
‘Good luck with it,’ Soren said, suspecting that Varrisher had something more in mind.
‘I could always use someone as good with a sword as you are. There’d be a share of the bounty in it for you, and after we have him, I’ll drop you off at any port around the Middle Sea that you choose, with your sword safely back on your belt, of course. What do you say?’
Chapter 27
A Sailor’s Life
The second offer in a day — and the third offer in as many months to become a sailor. Even for someone who hated the sea it was attractive. Ramiro’s had been tempting also, but Soren didn’t want to be a pirate, or be associated with pirates.
His plan had been to return to the mainland and take work as a mercenary, or something along those lines that would allow him to practice the Gift in an environment where killing carried less severe consequences. He could easily do the same here, and the idea of being a pirate hunter tugged at his romantic, adventurous urges. A foolish notion, but it fit well with his desire to get his sword back. Then there was the matter of wanting to see Sancho Rui die. Amero could wait a few more months. ‘How long will it take?’
‘Every pirate hunter with a ship’ll be after Rui now that there’s a bounty on his head. As soon as I can bring him to action, I will. Any delay will let someone else grab him. I’m going to get him, and soon.’
The only factor that made Soren reluctant to agree was that he had hated Varrisher from the instant he first met him and this opinion had held sway up until a few moments ago. Despite Varrisher’s newfound affability, Soren was not entirely convinced.
‘What would my share of the bounty be?’ Soren said.
‘As a banneret you’d be entitled to the same as an officer; one and a half shares after expenses,’ Varrisher said, clearly sensing that he had Soren on the hook.
‘How do we go about finding him? Are the Spice Isles a big place?’
‘It only takes about five days to sail from one end to the other, but to be honest that isn’t the difficulty. There are hundreds of islands, some no bigger than this room and Rui could go to ground on any of them. Any information we can get will help. You said you helped Ramiro Qai fight off Rui.’
Soren nodded.
‘If Rui tried to kill him, Qai might be willing to share anything he knows with you. After what’s happened, I’m sure he’ll be as happy as anyone to see Rui dead. I don’t know what we’ll get from him, but it might be useful and anything that’ll get us to Rui sooner is worth trying.’
‘And if I agree to join you, you’ll take me anywhere I want to go when we’re done?’
Varrisher smiled. ‘Absolutely anywhere. I’ll deliver you to the court of the Mogul of Jahar if that’s where you want to go.’
‘I won’t need anywhere as far as that; Auracia will do,’ Soren said. ‘But I have your word of honour on that?’
‘You do,’ Varrisher said.
‘All right then. I’ll join you.’
‘Outstanding. Now, Ramiro Qai. Will you speak with him?’
‘I’ll give it a try. He seemed grateful for my help in the jungle.’
‘Good. He keeps a house here, on the other side of town.’
Soren nodded. ‘I know where it is.’
‘His ship’s still at anchor, so that’s where we’ll find him,’ Varrisher said.
Soren finished mopping up the last scraps from his plate with a piece of bread and stood. ‘Let’s get going then.’
They walked across the cobbled square and toward the house. There were several tough looking men standing outside, a couple of whom had been in the jungle the night before. They were dressed in the sailor’s uniform of baggy calf length trousers, loose shirt and waistcoat, and they were all heavily armed. As soon as they spotted Soren and Varrisher, they became alert and threatening.
‘Whaddya want?’ demanded one of them.
‘I’m here to see Captain Qai,’ Varrisher said.
‘I’m sure you are,’ the pirate said, ‘but he ain’t here.’
‘S’all right,’ one of the men said, pointing at Soren. ‘He’s the fella that was in the jungle with us.’
The pirate looked him up and down. ‘Fine. I’ll check with the cap’n. Wait here.’
He went into the house, leaving Soren and Varrisher to wait with the other pirates outside. They looked at Soren with a curiosity that was excessive for an ordinary visitor. Soren wondered what they had been told about the fight in the jungle. They didn’t have to wait long. The first pirate reappeared.
‘You can go in,’ he said.
Both Soren and Varrisher made to go forward, but the pirate stopped Varrisher.
‘No, just you,’ he said to Soren. ‘And you can leave the blade here,’ he added, pointing to the broad bladed short-sword that Soren had picked up in the jungle and carried strapped to his waist.
Soren looked at Varrisher, who shrugged. Soren pulled the sword from his belt and handed it to the pirate,
who took it and beckoned for Soren to follow him. They went into the house, leaving Varrisher to the pirates’ hostile stares.
‘Ah, Banneret Soren. Have you decided to take me up on my offer?’ Ramiro Qai said. He sat at a small table in the centre of the room, a position that afforded him a view across the town from the single window. There was an open bottle containing a dark amber liquid sitting on the table. It was half full and accompanied by mismatched glasses.
‘Please sit,’ he said, gesturing to one of the other chairs.
Soren nodded and sat as Qai filled two glasses from the bottle. He slid one of them across to Soren.
‘Ruripathian whisky,’ he said. ‘It’s very good and the last of it that we’re likely to see for some time.’
Soren took the glass, tipped it to Qai, and took a sip. It might have been good, it might not, but Soren wouldn’t have known one way or the other.
‘I’m not here to join you, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh. I have to admit I’m a little disappointed. A man of your talent is of great value to a man of my profession. The question that remains is why you are here then…’
‘I want some information on Sancho Rui,’ Soren said. ‘He has something of mine, and I want it back.’ There was no need to mention the bounty, or Varrisher.
‘Ah, I see,’ Qai said, leaning back in his chair. ‘I realise that you’re new to these islands, and that you’ll not be aware of how things work here. While it might appear to you that Sancho Rui is my enemy — and indeed, he is — there are certain, how should I put it, acceptable and unacceptable practices. If I were to give you any information about a brother member of the Conclave I would be in breach of the Accords of membership of the Conclave. You are aware of what the Conclave is?’ Qai said.
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Cenceno, my bo’sun tells me that you’re here with Captain Varrisher. Captain Varrisher has spent the last few days here asking about Captain Rui and telling anyone that will listen that he’s going to kill him and take his head to Shandahar. I assume he’s made you a more attractive offer than I did. If I’m seen helping you with this in mind, it will not reflect well on me,’ Qai said.
The Huntsman's Amulet (Society of the Sword Volume 2) Page 13
