Pirate of the Prophecy

by Jack Campbell

  It had always been that way, though no one seemed to be sure just how long “always” extended into the past, and it always would be. As Ian had pointed out, how could anyone fight the power of the Great Guilds? Mechanic or Mage, they had abilities the common people couldn’t match.

  “I’m going in here,” Jules said, looking for something to distract her from her thoughts. “You two wait right where you are.” The tavern, with a wooden plank nailed above the door advertising BOOZE, REAL STUFF seemed to have no name. It didn’t look like the sort of place that would welcome someone in an Imperial officer’s uniform. Which was exactly why she was going in. Face what you fear, her mother had said, not long before dying in childbirth. Jules thought her father would have agreed, but he’d died when his legion was sent to chase bandits in the mountainous Northern Ramparts.

  Which had left only her. To endure the harsh environment of a home for legion orphans, to fight and learn and not give up until she qualified for one of the few openings for officer training available to the orphans, to end up here in the muddy streets and raw taverns of Jacksport.

  She shoved open the door, striding inside.

  Jules had taken barely three steps into the tavern, just enough to wonder why the place felt so quiet, when she abruptly found herself facing a Mage.

  She froze, her eyes fixed on those of the Mage, wondering if she was about to die. The Mage looked back at her, his gaze reflecting the total lack of interest that Mages directed toward all others, as if those others meant nothing at all. His hood was down, giving her a good look at the rough, unwashed hair hanging in hanks alongside his face. The Mage’s expression, if a lack of any apparent feeling could be called an expression, could have been that of a dead person. The tavern had gone totally silent, all of those here watching with mingled dread and anticipation to see what the Mage would do to this young Imperial officer.

  But in the moments while Jules stood paralyzed with fear and uncertainty, some feeling came into the Mage eyes looking into hers. Could that be surprise?

  “This one sees and hears,” the Mage said, his eyes locked on Jules, his voice hoarse and low. “This one sees that one, and hears a voice inside say the day will come when a daughter of your line will unite Mechanics, Mages, and the common folk to overthrow the Great Guilds and free the world. A daughter of your line will someday do this.”

  Jules stared at the Mage, a different, vastly greater terror taking the place of her earlier fears as his words sank in.

  Following the words of the Mage the silence in the bar had become almost a physical thing, smothering all sound.

  Someone finally broke the silence in a whisper, as if afraid to speak the words. “Her daughter will free us?”

  “A daughter of her line,” another said. “Granddaughter, maybe. Great-granddaughter. But it’s a Mage prophecy! You all heard it!”

  The voices broke her paralysis, though the Mage still stood as if frozen by shock at what he had seen, and everybody else in the tavern seemed afraid to move. Knowing only that she had to get out of there, had to find a place to hide, Jules scrambled backward—away from the Mage who would kill her as soon as he recovered from his surprise, away from the other eyes—out the flimsy door to where her legionaries waited. Oddly enough, even in the midst of the near-panic filling her, Jules felt an obligation to ensure those legionaries weren’t left exposed to any danger pursuing her.

  “Get back to the ship!” Jules yelled at the two legionaries. “Go now!”

  Without another word, she spun about and raced away down the waterfront, trying to lose herself in the crowd. Her guts felt like a hurricane had come to rest in them. Her mind filled with only one thought: that the Mage had pronounced a death sentence on her and any children she might someday have. Because the Great Guilds would never let that prophecy come true if they could prevent it by killing her.

  Her churning thoughts and feelings, only partly numbed by fear, settled on one certainty. How hard would it be to learn the exact identity of an Imperial officer who was in Jacksport this night? That Imperial officer had to cease to exist before that Mage shared his prophecy with the Guild. Her future, the one she had worked and fought for, had just become a deadly trap that would have to be forgotten.

  Finding an alley, Jules ran down it, trying to get away from the crowds and heedless of the mud splattering her boots and pants. In the dark, she saw a prowling figure lunge toward her and barely got her dagger out in time to swing at the other. The mugger or murderer dropped back, vanishing into the murk again as Jules ran on.

  She came out of the alley one street back from the waterfront. Here few lights or people could be seen at this hour. Shuttered stores lined the streets, their interiors as dark as the night about them. Jules spotted a sign with a tattered shirt hanging from it and ran that way. Clothing. Yes. Do that first. She needed something a lot less easy to spot than this uniform.

  Not wanting to break in the front door where someone could see, Jules ran to the alley alongside that building, finding a side door whose lock was stout enough to resist breaking. The same couldn’t be said of the door. She kicked viciously until the door cracked and she could force it open and get inside. Crates of clothing were laid out inside, forming haphazard rows. Quickly choosing the sort of shirt and pants that any sailor would wear, Jules stripped off her uniform and pulled on the other clothing. Her boots and sword and dagger could still betray her, but she needed those.

  A small canvas bag proved big enough to hold her uniform. Jules rolled up her uniform jacket and pants, feeling a sense of loss as she sealed the bag. She paused to stare at the bundle, thinking of how proud she’d been to first put on that uniform. Where could she dispose of it where it wouldn’t be found?

  When she walked out onto the well-lit waterfront again, no one took notice of her even though she thought her fear must be obvious. But Jules heard the buzz of gossip racing down the street and being repeated by dozens of people in tones too low for any passing Mechanic or Mage to overhear. She heard the word “prophecy” repeated over and over, confirming what the feverish discussions were about.

  Jules walked along the waterfront feeling as if everyone around was staring at her. The bag holding her uniform felt like a huge red flag that everyone must surely notice. How could she get rid of it without people seeing? Jules held onto the bag and kept walking, not knowing where she was going, trying to figure out what to do next.

  The Mage didn’t know who she was. No one in the bar had known. But if she didn’t get out of Jacksport fast, someone would recognize her. And that would mean her death. She had to get out of this harbor, and out of the Sharr Isles, as soon as possible. These areas were sparsely-settled enough that she’d stand out as a stranger no matter where she went. Even the growing town of Caer Lyn on another island was too small, and too close to the Empire, to be safe.

  Running again would attract too much attention. Settling on a goal, Jules walked at a pace that she hoped wasn’t so quick as to be suspicious toward a pier she had noticed earlier, where a few merchant ships were tied up. One of those ships would have to be her way out of Jacksport.

  Her path took Jules back past the pier where the Imperial galley Eagle Talon rested, the deck of the ship illuminated brightly enough by lanterns to show figures in dark red uniforms moving about. Her ship. Her former ship. At least she’d no longer have to feel conflicted about forcing others to bow before the same Imperial authority she herself chafed at.

  Jules realized that a pair of officers from the Eagle Talon were coming down the pier toward her. Blazes. Why now? Jules scrunched her head into her collar, keeping her gaze lowered, letting her gait go a little loose like a sailor with too much alcohol under her belt, hoping the Imperial officers would pay no attention to her.

  They were even, they were past…

  “Jules?”

  Her head came up and she looked back, recognizing the voice. Lieutenant-in-Training Ian and Lieutenant-in-Training Dara. Of all people to e
ncounter.

  “What are you doing?” Dara asked, her shocked gaze on Jules. “Where’s your uniform?”

  “I’m leaving Imperial service,” Jules said. “Forget you saw me. Please.”

  “You can’t just—” Dara began, shocked.

  “What happened?” Ian interrupted, coming closer, concerned for her.

  “I have to disappear,” Jules said, the words tumbling out. “Or else I’ll be killed.”

  “By who? Who wants to kill you?”

  “Every Mage and every Mechanic on Dematr.” Jules rubbed her face, already regretting having told them that much, seeing that now she’d have to explain. “I encountered a Mage. He…he looked at me, and said that a daughter of my line would someday overthrow the Great Guilds and free the world.” Both Ian and Dara stared at her, their jaws hanging loose in amazement. “The Mage didn’t know who I was. I lost him. I need to make sure they don’t find out who I am.”

  “You won’t last a day if they do find out,” Ian said. “Both Great Guilds? Your daughter will overthrow both of them?”

  “A daughter of my line,” Jules said. “Who knows how far down the line that will be? It could be centuries.”

  Ian stared at her. “Do you think it’s true? What the Mage said?”

  “It’s a Mage prophecy,” Dara said, sounding joyful. “That means it will happen. Jules, this is wonderful!”

  “Wonderful?” Jules asked, wondering why “wonderful” felt so terrifying.

  “Yes! The Emperor will protect you! Hide you! Come on back to the ship.”

  Jules wavered. “Hide me?” Could he? Even the Mages and the Mechanics might not be able to find her if the Emperor…

  What would the Emperor do?

  She thought of everything she’d heard of the Emperor and the Imperial court. Ruthless, everyone said. The only morality was winning by any means possible. “Hide me? Lock me up somewhere, you mean.”

  “Somewhere safe,” Dara emphasized. “The Emperor wants the Great Guilds overthrown, too! If he knows a daughter of your line will…you don’t have any children yet, do you?”

  “No!” Jules said. “I…” It hit her then with the force of a blow, her fears fanned again by the knowledge of what would happen to her. “He’d make me marry him. Make me his consort. And force me to have children with him.”

  “Who?” Ian asked.

  “The Emperor! If my children were also acknowledged as his he’d be able to claim Imperial credit for whatever they did!”

  “I hadn’t thought of that!” Dara said. “Jules, you’re so lucky!”

  “Lucky? How is that lucky?”

  “To be the Emperor’s consort! To bear the heirs to the Empire, and those who will eventually overthrow the Great Guilds!” Dara smiled broadly.

  “Do you think I’m Mara?” Jules demanded. “Willing to sell my humanity so I can sit beside the Emperor’s throne?”

  “Jules, what’s the matter with you? The Emperor keeps us all safe. Even if you don’t appreciate that, you swore an oath to the Emperor!” Dara insisted. “You have a duty to come back with us, and to go to Marandur, and to do whatever the Emperor asks of you. Having his children would be an honor.”

  Jules shook her head, a certainty rising to accompany the earlier fear. “Then you have them! I won’t spend the rest of my life locked away someplace safe! I’d rather die than become a brood mare for the Emperor, or any other man! I’ll marry the man I want when I want, and then I’ll have children, if children I have, because I want to!”

  “It sounds like you’re definitely going to have at least one child,” Ian said.

  Jules stared at him, only now feeling the force of that. A child was no longer merely a possibility. Someday, at least one child of hers would be in this world.

  And the Great Guilds would be doing all they could to kill that child.

  Dara’s voice, gone cold and authoritative, shocked her out of that dark reverie. “Surrender your sword, Jules. Ian, take her sword.”

  “You’re arresting me?” Jules asked, incredulous.

  “You have a duty!” Dara repeated. “Not just to the Emperor but to every common person on Dematr who needs your descendent to someday free us.”

  Jules hesitated, not wanting to fight Ian and Dara, but seeing no other way out. Ian didn’t seem happy, though, even while he listened to Dara’s orders. “All right,” Jules told Dara, drawing her sword back-handed as if to surrender it. “But first we need to deal with them,” she added, nodding back the way she’d come.

  Dara and Ian turned to look, but no one was visible nearby. “What-?” Ian began.

  Jules slammed the guard of her sword against Dara’s head, dropping Dara senseless. Spinning the blade about, she held the tip slanted toward Ian, who hadn’t drawn his own sword. “Don’t make me hurt you. Please,” Jules said.

  Ian nodded, stepping back. “You should probably hit me, too, so I can have a good excuse for not stopping you. Dara’s just trying to be a good citizen.”

  “I know,” Jules said. “I don’t want to kill her.”

  “You should probably kill both of us,” Ian said, his voice cracking. “To keep your secret safe.”

  Jules looked at him, at the sword in her hand, then shook her head. “No. My life isn’t worth that. I won’t murder either of you to protect myself.”

  Ian sagged with relief. “This time I’m glad that you’re not taking my advice. All right. I understand why you’re doing this. Maybe someday we’ll meet again. Good luck, Jules.” Ian turned away, standing stoically.

  Jules hit him hard enough to raise a lump, dropping Ian to his knees, but not hard enough to knock him out even though he could claim she had.

  Then running again, here where it was dark right along the water, the brightly lit taverns well behind her, the night covering her movements. Running through the gloom until she reached the last pier, and out along it, slowing to a walking pace, studying the three ships here. Trying to think as her heart pounded and her breath came quick from the run and from renewed fear.

  One of the three ships flew an Imperial flag. A prosperous-looking ship. She knew the type. Owned by someone in the Imperial court, benefiting from the insider connections and trades those facilitated. She couldn’t trust anyone aboard a ship like that.

  The second ship looked like any other wooden sailing vessel, but flew the flag of the Mechanics Guild, indicating that it was leased or owned by Mechanics to carry cargo. Mechanics would let commons do the work on such a ship, but they would rule every action taken. Even though Mechanics might not believe in Mage prophecies (did they believe in Mage prophecies?) they’d probably still kill her just to be safe.

  The third ship, though, looked to be decently maintained and also an independent trader. It offered a slim hope, but the only hope there was to be had this night.

  Jules went up the gangway, finding a drowsy sailor sitting on the deck. “Is your captain aboard?”

  The sailor blinked up at Jules, plainly unhappy at being roused. “Who’s asking?”

  “Me.”

  “Why?”

  “Why don’t I talk about that to the captain?”

  “Then you’ll wait,” the sailor said. “Cap’n said no waking him until dawn unless an emergency. Are you an emergency?”

  “Maybe. I came off that Imperial galley.” What would get the attention of this sailor? Jules remembered some of the other officers eyeing this ship and discussing what they might do. Why not assume they would? Because a search of every spot on this island would certainly happen once Dara recovered and spoke to the captain of the Eagle Talon. “The Imperials are planning to search this ship as soon as the sun rises tomorrow. Maybe even before dawn.”

  Her partial bluff worked, the sailor getting up and eyeing her narrowly. He was a big man, a bit over a lance tall, the sort who could cow opponents just by looking at them. “You’re in the Imperial fleet?”

  “I was,” Jules said. “Are we going to talk to the captain?”


  The sailor hustled along the deck to the cabin under the quarterdeck, rapping his knuckles on the door, the sound unnaturally loud at this hour. “Cap’n? We got an emergency.”

  Less than a minute later the door cracked open. Jules saw a single eye looking out. “What is it?”

  Jules answered. “The Imperials are planning to search this ship at first light. Maybe earlier.”

  “Blazes. Ang, get the crew rousted and send some ashore to get anyone in the taverns. Move fast.”

  “You believe her?” Ang asked.

  “Move fast!” the captain said. As Ang ran off the captain opened the door fully and stood in the doorway, studying Jules. Roused from sleep, he wore only trousers. He was nearly past middle-age, Jules guessed, seeing even in this dim light that his skin was rough from long years at sea. A heavy mustache sprinkled with gray crowned his lip and heavy eyebrows hovered above shrewd eyes.

  “An Imperial officer,” the captain finally said. “I can see the sword. What brings you here?”

  She wasn’t about to tell the truth again. “I have my reasons.”

  “Do you?” The captain looked her over again, something about his appraising gaze making Jules’ face warm with embarrassment. “You caught the eye of some Imperial official, I’m guessing. Someone who doesn’t have to take no for an answer.”

  That was close enough to the truth, Jules realized. Though that Imperial official would be the Emperor himself. “Yes.”

  “So you found your virtue and decided that coercing others wasn’t such a fine thing after all,” the captain added with a sour look. “Well enough. Some folks don’t find that out until they’re a lot older than you, and have done a lot worse than someone your age could’ve yet managed. What do you want from this ship?”

  “A fast way out of Jacksport,” Jules said.

  “It’s like that, then? You’re that worried about being taken back?”

  Tell him the truth and give him a hold on her? Or lie and risk the lie showing in her face or words? Jules inhaled deeply, then nodded. “Yes. I’m that worried.”