by Jaxon Reed
The wizard cast a spell and a large glowing globe of hazy yellow light appeared on the street in front of the inn. The young dwarf gave a final wave and nudged his pigs forward by poking one in the flank lightly with a stick. The pigs grunted and pulled forward. The wagon and driver disappeared through the giant ball of light, which slowly faded away.
Greystone smiled and said, “He’ll show up in the middle of town. Probably give everybody a fright.”
Dudge thanked the wizard profusely, embarrassing Greystone who waved it all off. Trant reminded the wizard their ship was about to sail. He and Greystone made their final farewells and hurried back to the docks.
The crowd dissipated. Most of the Farmland dwarves went back inside the inn, leaving Dudge and Fret alone in the street.
Dudge said, “Take yer lads an’ yer gold an’ go back home. There’s nay reason t’ stay here any longer.”
Fret said, “Wha’ will ye do?”
“I’ll stay an’ be Portreeve ’til th’ Council sends a replacement. Nay tellin’ how long tha’ will take. They’ll prolly argue ’bout it fer weeks.”
Reluctantly, Fret agreed. He went inside and began making preparations for departure. Within the hour, all his wagons were harnessed and lined up, the remainder of the gold distributed among them. The drivers knelt one by one before an embarrassed Dudge, who kept insisting such formality was not necessary. They ignored him and knelt anyway, formally pledging their loyalty to the crown, as dwarves are wont to do on formal occasions in the presence of royalty.
At last Fret approached and gave him a hug instead of kneeling. They slapped each other on the back.
“Stop by on yer way home, Dudge. Stop fer several days.”
“Aye! An’ dinna ferget nex’ year. Th’ yumans are gonna love yer beer an’ they’ll be wantin’ more. I reckon ye ha’ enough gold an’ vats an’ such ye’ll nay be needin’ th’ Crown’s coins this time.”
“Mayhap. Iffen I don’ spend it all b’twixt now an’ then.”
Dudge smiled. He said, “Ye dinna strike me as foolhardy. I reckon every coin’ll be carefully accounted fer.”
Fret beamed back, and nodded. “I ne’er had this much gold afore. One or two coins may fin’ a fun use here or there. But aye, mos’ will likely go back into th’ brewery. I’ll make it better nex’ year!”
Fret climbed up onto the seat of the lead wagon and waved as he led the train out of the city, the pigs grunting as they pulled the wagons forward.
When the last wagon trundled out of sight down the street, Dudge made his way to the Great Hall. Several dwarves waved and shouted greetings along his route. He nodded and waved back. Word had spread, and everyone seemed to know him by sight now.
He noted the absence of humans in the streets, with the warship pulling out. Likely the other ship would be leaving soon, too, he mused.
He nodded at the new guard standing by the entrance to the hall, who snapped a smart salute. Unconsciously he slipped his hand in a pocket and gripped his dagger as he passed the guard. He knew Fret and Pywot had produced a handful of volunteers to assume guard duty, and these had supposedly been vetted for loyalty, but after Puffin’s betrayal Dudge still felt nervous around anyone wearing a uniform.
Inside, he made his way downstairs to the bureaucratic heart of the city. Everyone looked up as he entered the room, a mixture of alarm and concern in their eyes.
He stopped at the entrance and said, “I be Portreeve ’til th’ Council appoints a replacement.”
It seemed an unnecessary statement, but one he nonetheless felt compelled to make. He looked at each dwarf present, holding their eyes for a moment. Several nodded back. A few averted his gaze, glancing downward.
“Each one o’ ye will give an account o’ yer work. I’ll be startin’ wi’ you.”
He pointed to the first desk on his right, and headed toward the Portreeve’s office. The nervous dwarf quickly jumped up, came around the desk and followed him.
-+-
Kirt stretched as woke up, bleary eyed from lack of sleep. Everyone stayed up late the night before, and he had followed the twins into the room the three of them shared in the wee hours of the morning.
His bare feet hit the floor with a thump, the sound waking up Bartimo and Bellasondra. They both stretched and yawned, climbing out of their own beds. They followed the boy out of the bedroom and into the inn’s common room. There they discovered the morning was almost gone. So were the marines and most of the inn’s human guests.
They sat down for a late brunch and caught up with the morning news.
“Th’ yuman prince an’ wizard be chasin’ pirates. Their ship left on th’ tide,” Pywot informed them. “Though how they hope t’ catch any this far from pirate waters, I dinna ken.”
Bellasondra regretted missing her opportunity to ask Greystone for help in locating Stin.
Bartimo said, “I’m sure we’ll see him again before too long. Don’t worry. If we don’t see the wizard, we’ll find someone else who can perform a finding spell.”
They chatted with the innkeeper some more and finished their meal. Bartimo paid Pywot for their stay, then they gathered their things and headed for the docks.
At the warehouses, Bartimo presented the receipt from Fret. The burly dwarf who took it hurried off, then returned with several other muscle-bound dwarves, each carrying a cask on their shoulders. They marched behind Bartimo to Foambreaker. There, they followed the boatswain’s directions and loaded the casks into the hold under his watchful eye, storing them evenly on both sides to prevent an imbalance. Then they went back for more, repeating the process several times until the last cask was safely stowed late in the afternoon.
The captain began moving quicker then, determined to depart on the evening tide. Final provisions were hastily brought aboard, farewells were made, and a dwarf pilot who could lead them out of the bay came onboard. Finally, with the sun sinking low, Foambreaker left Port Osmo and made her way out to sea.
15
The main part of a pirate voyage, as far as Stin could tell, involved aimlessly circling an isolated stretch of water somewhere between Coral and the Ageless Isles. Here, the pirates could pounce upon any merchant ship unlucky enough to be spotted by their lookouts in the crow’s nest.
Unfortunately for the pirates, most merchants seemingly preferred a more westerly route, hugging the coastline several miles before making a mad dash toward Sintola, the closest outer island. From there they could jump to various minor ports in the archipelago before finally hitting Refugio, the largest and most lucrative port in the isles.
From his own observations and discussion around the officer’s table at dinner that night, Stin deduced piratical forays were somewhat rare. As best as anyone at the table could estimate, perhaps eight a year occurred.
A polite disagreement broke out between Quent and Melton on this point, with Quent insisting some years as few as four raids occurred, while Melton insisted no fewer than six pirate ships in a year had sailed in his memory.
At any rate, Stin concluded, the raids were lucrative enough that not many were needed to keep everybody back at Corsairs Cove happy, including the crews and the sea lords and the townsfolk. Consequently, Melton explained, due to their light and random nature, some merchant captains risked the direct route to Refugio all the time. But on occasion they traveled in convoys for protection.
These, Melton explained to Stin, the pirates avoided at all costs. He said, “With convoys, too many numbers can be brought to bear against us.”
“Why not gather together all the pirate ships and attack a convoy?” Stin said. “Surely they must reserve more valuable cargo for the most heavily guarded trips.”
Everybody turned with questioning glances toward Cessic. The pirate captain said, “You have a point, Steck, and I admire your thinking. However, you have to consider centuries of tradition and the notion of balance.”
“Balance?”
Cessic nodded. “Balance. Consider the
dukes and barons of the mainland. They grow rich. They get complacent. They get fat.
“We come along and steal a little of their gold on the high seas. We distribute the gold to those who need it back at Corsairs Cove. The rich learn not to be so complacent, not to be so self-centered, and we make some money. Everybody is better for it.”
“So, you’re doing a service.”
“Don’t sound so dubious, Steck. Pirates have always been around, even before Gloomis. But Gloomis and his patrons set up a system to keep things balanced, and we honor that tradition.
“As for convoys, think it through. If we brought every ship we had and took a convoy, and stole treasury shipments from Coral or some other extraordinarily valuable cargo, it would disrupt the balance in things. We would be the greedy ones. They would be out for blood, perhaps getting the wizards involved. It might mean war. We’d become more than a minor irritation, we’d be a threat that needed eliminating. We would likely not be able to take another ship for a decade, and the people of Corsairs Cove would suffer for it.
“No, it’s better to take the random lone merchant every once in a while and maintain the balance that has served everybody so well for centuries.”
Stin considered Cessic’s words a moment, then abandoned that line of questioning for another. He said, “Why would a merchant take this risky direct route, when it’s so much safer sticking to the coasts then hopping over to Sintola?”
“Ah,” Cessic said. “The way a merchant ship profits is through reduced cost of fare. And a captain reduces costs by minimizing his time at sea. There are techniques to try and maximize profits taking the longer passage. Some do it by trading between ports, others by ferrying goods and passengers through the islands. But there will always be a need for quick passage between Coral City and Refugio. Usually it takes about five days. Going by way of Sintola takes a minmum of two weeks.”
“So, in short,” Quent said, turning to Stin and adding his voice to the conversation, “it seems to me the captain is saying the direct route is well worth the risk for many merchants. Odds favor them.”
Cessic nodded and said, “The odds favor most. Lets hope the one we choose will have a bountiful hold, filled with lucre. And the odds stacked against them.”
-+-
After supper, Stin joined Quent as he made his way to the stern and the evening bone-cards match. Together they watched a group gather around Plinny for the start of a game. Soon, the sounds of play filled the air, fom the roll of the die, the soft thwap of cards hitting the deck, and the clinking of coins as they flowed in and out of the bucket.
Quent said, “Do you miss the games much, Steck? Too bad you can’t join now that you’re an officer.”
“I don’t miss the game itself as much the playing. I’ve so much gold from my winnings at Primero that a few more coppers from these deckhand tourneys wouldn’t make much difference. But I do miss the camaraderie of the men.”
A cheer went up as Plinny won a hand. His thunderous laughter rolled out over the deck.
“Bwahahahaha!”
Quent said, “Mm. Methinks most of them root for Plinny just to hear him laugh.”
One of the players did not enjoy Plinny’s belly laugh. He was a short, dark-haired fellow Stin did not recognize. The newcomer sneered at Plinny and said, “Magicless bastard.”
Plinny’s smile melted and he stood, towering over the others.
“What? I gots magic, Grom! I gots me blowhard spell!”
He took a deep breath, his barrel chest expanding dramatically. He held it for a moment, then blew it out in a long gusty gale. The canvas in the sails snapped and the ship rocked sharply to one side.
Quent said, “Cut it out, Plinny. You’ll capsize us!”
Plinny stopped and glanced around, a self-satisfied smile on his face. He said, “See? Me blowhard spell! Cap’n likes to have me along in case the wind dies. One time, we was becalmed after capturing a ship filled with goods from the southern islands. Had her in tow, but there was nary a breeze in sight. Neither ship could catch a breath o’ wind. The water were flat that day. Ne’er seen the likes afore nor since.
“Cap’n calls me up to his quarters and says, ‘Plinny, I hears ye gots a spell that can blow like a sneeze from Father Winter!’ An’ I says, ‘Aye, but ’tain’t near as cold!’
“He put me out near the foremast, an’ I blew us home, the prize in tow! I blew all day and mos’ the night. By morning light the Cap’n could open the way to Corsairs Cove again!”
Grom looked up at him and said, “Alright, alright. You gots magic. Now hush and let’s play another hand. I wants a chance at winning back me silver.”
As the next round started, young Cuppers wandered up to the two officers. He seemed bright-eyed and fresh, despite the hour, and beaming with happiness. Stin noticed with some envy the boy did not seem the least bit seasick.
Quent said, “Mm. All finished with the cleaning?”
Cuppers nodded.
“The cook give you something to eat?”
Cuppers nodded again.
“Very well then. I suppose you can dawdle a while until bedtime.”
Cuppers sat on the deck and watched as the sailors played more rounds. Grom won three in a row. He smiled slyly at Plinny, who now sat with his armed crossed, frowning.
Stin quirked an eyebrow at Quent, who shook his head and said, “Grom’s not using magic. He’s just having a string of good luck.”
Cuppers said, “I want to play bone-cards!”
Quent said, “Mm. You’re too young to play games of chance. Besides, you don’t have any money.”
“Soon as we capture our prize ship, sirrah, I’ll be rich as all get out! Then I can play games of chance, and buy me mum a new house, and have boys drive me around in a cart for a change!”
Stin said, “Noble ambitions.”
He had a half a mind to give the boy a few silver just to let him get the taste of the game, but he decided against it since Quent had already spoken against the matter.
Instead, the three of them continued watching. In the end, Grom ended up with the most winnings. Plinny demanded another game. The other two players left, to be replaced by Veeroy and another pirate Stin did not recognize. The game continued. By the end of the third one, Plinny had no more money and Grom looked happy as the proverbial cat with a mouth of feathers.
Nobody else seemed inclined to play, so the game broke up. A few stayed out on deck, talking softly, staring at the moon and stars.
Plinny stretched out with his hands behind his head for a pillow. He started singing, his voice smooth and melodious, a deep bass carrying out over the water.
Alas, me bonnie lass, from Coral . . .
She left, so deft, on a sorrel
Me lass were bon, me lass were fine . . .
Me lass be gone, no longer mine
The song continued, lamenting the loss of lovers from all the lands. Grom picked up the next verse.
Alas, me bonnie lass, from Em’ral’ . . .
She cared aught for me, in gen’ral
Me lass has lef’, me lass were fine . . .
Lef’ me beref’, no longer mine
When most of the lands had been sung, Plinny looked over at the officers. His voice bellowed out. “Steck! Lord Fortune! Sing us a verse o’ ‘Bonnie Lass.’ Sing it, Steck! Sing fer us!”
Others joined in. “Aye, Lord Fortune! Let’s here ye sing.”
“You’re not too good to sing now you’re an officer!”
Stin smiled and raised his hands in acquiesance. He cleared his throat and began singing. Badly, and off key.
Alas, me bonnie lass from the isles . . .
When she left, she took ’way my smiles
Plinny’s face dropped. He shared a horrified look with Veeroy.
Me lass were gran’, me lass were fine . . .
With ’nother man, no longer mine
Plinny bellowed, “By the High Tower, make it stop! Sounds like a strangled seagull
! Dear Creator, that’s the worst singin’ I ever heard!”
Others agreed, shaking their heads in disgust.
Stin chuckled at their reaction. He said, “You asked for it, boys. You got it.”
“Don’t worry,” Plinny said. “We’ll never ask ye to sing again!”
Quent smiled at Stin and said, “I think we found a new punishment for when they act up. We’ll let you sing at them a few hours. Might be worse than the whip.”
-+-
“Sail ho! Sail to the port side!”
The sun had just climbed above the horizon when the lookout’s call rang out. Stin joined the others in hurrying to the side for a glimpse, even though he knew it might be half an hour or so before those on deck would be able to see a hint of the other ship. Everyone strained for a look anyway.
Several minutes passed, and at last the tops of distant sails could be seen by all. The sighting put the men in good spirits, especially since it happened so quickly after leaving home. Later at breakfast, the officers decided it was a good omen.
Quent said to Stin, “We didn’t see your ship until six days out, last time.”
As the morning progressed, the men made ready for fighting and boarding, sharpening blades, oiling armor, fletching arrows.
By lunchtime, the other ship floated nearby, plainly visible, her sails catching the breeze. Stin and Quent joined Cessic and Melton at the prow to observe their prey.
“An express boat, by the looks of her,” Cessic said. “What do you think, Melton?”
Melton stomped his peg leg once on the deck and crossed his arms. He said, “I don’t like it, Captain.”
Cessic twirled his mustache for a moment. Then he smiled, the sun glinting off his golden tooth. He said, “What’s not to like?”
“It’s too easy. We found her too fast. I smell a trap.”
“Well of course we found her fast, she’s where she’s supposed to be. We came looking in the right place at the right time. I’d say that’s a good sign.”
Melton furrowed his brows. He said, “So you say. I wonder. Perchance finding her this fast is an ill portent.”
