Dean was struck dumb by Verrick’s claim. It took him a moment to formulate a reply. “I don’t understand. You think I’m the—”
“You’re my prince. And it is my great honor to be the one who brings you home.”
Dean squinted hard at Verrick. He’d heard twenty versions of this story if he’d heard a single one. The tale of the lost prince was popular among bandits who traded in Zenhala’s legend. Many a crooked man had posed as the guardian of a child he’d claimed to be the lost prince, and begged shipowners to take them home. The gullible fools who were taken in by this scheme were led into ambushes and robbed of their cargo, their ships, and in some cases, their very lives. Verrick’s take was different. A grifter trying to convince a penniless boy that he was the prince? Where was the profit in that? Dean was certain that Verrick was engineering some kind of scheme, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out the angle.
Dean felt at the small tattoo One-Eyed Jack’s men had branded him with years ago. “You’re mistaken, sir. I got this mark when I was purchased at a young age by a wealthy shipowner.” That was Dean’s standard cover story to explain the mark on his arm.
“And where is that wealthy shipowner now?”
Dean looked away. “Killed by pirates.” As far as Dean knew, that was the truth. He had never been given any reason to doubt it. His earliest memories were all on board the Maelstrom, being yelled at by One-Eyed Jack. He had been taken in a raid at an early age and shanghaied into his service. Dean had grown up spying for One-Eyed Jack; that was all he’d ever known. He’d die spying for him too, one way or the other.
“You’ve been plagued by pirates since birth, haven’t you, Your Grace?”
“Don’t call me that. I’m no prince.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirteen.”
“There, you see? You’re the correct age, and you’ve already admitted that you’re an orphan with no real knowledge of his origins. You misspoke before when you assumed I was expecting someone else. If anything, you’ve proven yourself to be exactly whom I’ve been looking for.”
Verrick pressed a coin into Dean’s hand. Dean held it up to the lantern and saw that it had been minted with the same sigil that was tattooed on his arm. He was shaken by the sight of the coin’s imprint. Its presentation was a powerful move on Verrick’s part. He had played his hand well, but Dean knew a con when he saw one. It would take more than a single piece of gold to buy his trust.
“This doesn’t prove anything. This mark on my arm is common. Everyone from slavers to spice traders has flown a flag with this symbol.”
Verrick took back the coin. “That is by design. My people have worked very hard to place that mark throughout the seven seas. Thanks to our efforts, it has been used at one time or another by nearly every kind of sailor. When we fly that flag, we can claim to be anyone we wish. Surely you can understand why we need to employ such deception.”
Dean nodded. If there was one thing he understood, it was deception. On that score, he and Verrick seemed to be cut from the same cloth. The old man had an answer for everything, just like most professional thieves. Dean racked his brain, trying to figure out what he was up to. All he could figure was that Verrick intended to kidnap him and ransom him back to his family. That had to be why he had casually inquired about his father, then the “wealthy shipowner’s” current whereabouts. He was using Zenhalan folklore as a means to separate Dean from the others, just as Dean had used it to separate Gentleman Jim from his wallet. If only Verrick knew how little he stood to profit from his ruse. There wasn’t a man alive who would part with a pocketful of sand to broker Dean’s safe return. Dean was determined to be long gone before Verrick found out he was wasting his time. He rubbed his head and winced. “Sir, this is a lot to take in. I need to think … I need to think about—”
Dean tried to get up and feigned exhaustion, nearly falling out of bed. Verrick caught him before he hit the ground.
“You’re still delirious from the heat, my lord. You need to rest.” Verrick helped Dean back into bed. “I’ll not be losing you now, not when we’re so close to restoring Zenhala to glory.”
Dean lay back down and did his best to look weak and weary. In his current state, it required very little acting. “Where are we? Are we going to Zenhala now?”
“Not yet. The ship is docking at Bartleby Bay to unload your crew and restock on supplies.”
Dean sat up with a start. “Bartleby Bay? On St. Diogenes?”
Verrick took Dean’s reaction in stride. “It was the closest island.”
“It’s also a notorious pirate haven.”
Verrick patted Dean’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. You’ll soon leave these pirates behind, once and for all. Sleep well, my prince. We sail for Zenhala with the morning tide.”
As soon as Verrick closed the door behind him, Dean sat up. “Not with me you won’t.” He flipped the gold coin across his knuckles and held it up to the lantern once more. Lifting it from Verrick’s pocket had been a simple matter. Now it was time for a closer look. Dean brought the coin up to his teeth and bit down. Sure enough, it was solid gold. He couldn’t believe it. This Verrick must have really thought he was worth something to go through such trouble. Dean knew better. One-Eyed Jack had always been there to remind him he was worth less than a torn sail.
The Tideturner dropped anchor off the coast of St. Diogenes. Dean heard the Pirate Youth talking as they were led off the ship, and he searched his cabin for a way to join them. The footsteps he heard outside his door told him that the window was the only option. He spun it open and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Ronan on the other side. He was hanging on to a rope with his feet pressed up against the stern.
“Ronan!”
“Quiet! You want the whole blasted ship to know I’m outside your window?”
Dean put his hands up. “Sorry,” he said in a normal speaking voice. Ronan winced and put a finger to his lips. “Sorry!” Dean said again, this time in a whisper.
“Never mind that now. Are you all right? What did they want with you?”
Dean shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Tell me later, then. Right now, we’ve got to get you out of there. There’s treachery afoot.”
Dean gripped the windowsill. “What is it? Has something happened?”
Ronan nodded. “It’s the captain. Verrick’s men said they got everybody off the raft, but Gentleman Jim’s not aboard.”
“Not on board? Where is he?”
“I was hoping to find him in here with you. Have you seen him?”
“No.”
Ronan hung his head and sighed. “Could be the raft came undone while we were out … could be they’re lying and they’ve got him stowed somewhere else. I’m going to find out. The ship’s going down to a skeleton crew as they go ashore. They’re just leaving a few guards behind, there outside your door.” Ronan dropped down the rest of the line into the water and reached out a hand. “Come on, now. Won’t get a better chance than this.”
“I can’t believe you came back for me.”
“Captain’s orders, remember? No one gets left behind.” Dean took Ronan’s hand and climbed into the window frame. “Besides, somebody has to go square things with One-Eyed Jack.”
Dean let go of Ronan and stepped back. “Square things with One-Eyed Jack? What are you talking about?”
“Don’t tell me you already forgot we lost our ship.”
“I haven’t forgotten anything. What are you saying? You want me to go see One-Eyed Jack?”
“I know it’s a tall order, but I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you could handle it. You just have to buy us some time.”
“I can’t speak for the Reckless.” Dean shook his head. “I’m the wrong guy for the job. The really wrong guy. You have to trust me on that.”
“I do trust you, and you’re the only guy left. I already sent the rest of the crew off.”
�
�What about you?”
“I’m staying to look for Gentleman Jim. I know I said I didn’t trust you before, but after watching you get the water off the ship, and the way you saved the captain—”
“You were right not to trust me! Ronan, I’m not who you think I am. I’m one of the pirate king’s spies.”
Ronan froze in place. His eye twitched. “What?”
“I’m sorry, but it’s true. I wish it weren’t. He sent me to find out why Gentleman Jim’s payments came up short these last few months. If I go see him, he’s going to want to know about the Gentleman’s Code.”
Ronan gritted his teeth. “You two-faced—you’d do that? Rat us out to One-Eyed Jack?”
“I don’t want to! I’ve got no choice in the matter. He owns me. He owns all of us!”
Ronan raised a fist to pound the hull of the ship. He stopped himself just before he hit it, mindful of the noise it would make and the attention it would draw. He took a deep breath and looked at Dean with fire in his eyes.
“You’re going to fix this, Seaborne. I don’t know how, but you’re going to make it right. Gentleman Jim got hurt saving your skin. Yours and mine, remember that. You owe the captain your life, and if you don’t make good on that debt, I’m gonna come collect. We don’t owe One-Eyed Jack anything until the end of the month, understand? You’re going to ask him to lend us a ship so we can go get the loot he’s due.”
“Lend us a ship? Are you crazy? He’ll kill me just for asking!”
“Good! At least that’ll be one less thing for me to do.” Ronan gripped the rope and started climbing up toward the deck. “Start swimming, Seaborne. It’s a long way back to shore.”
Dean leaned out the window and watched Ronan climb out of sight.
“Not long enough.”
All things considered, his conversation with Ronan had gone better than he expected. When Dean saw Ronan make a fist, he thought for sure he’d be losing some teeth. He took a final look around his cabin, safe in the knowledge that he’d never again experience such luxury. Part of him wanted to stay, but that would have been folly. Verrick’s scheme could only be another problem he didn’t need. When someone locks you in a room and lies about why they put you there, you don’t stick around. You break out, first chance you get. Dean took the gold coin out of his pocket and stared at it, thinking about Verrick’s story. “Prince Seaborne.” He laughed. “If only it were true.”
CHAPTER 10
BY ORDER OF THE KING
Dean felt bad about ruining the fine clothes that Verrick had given him, but it couldn’t be helped. He crept into the water and swam hard against the current for the better part of an hour. Fortunately (or unfortunately, the way Dean looked at it), he didn’t have to make it all the way to shore. He only had to reach a small, rocky inlet called Dead Man’s Cove. The cove was aptly named, for it was the place where One-Eyed Jack’s ship, the Maelstrom, was moored. As Dean approached, One-Eyed Jack’s flag loomed large in the moonlight—a one-eyed skull resting over two crossed swords with a crown above its head. Many years had passed since One-Eyed Jack had personally gone on any raids, but there wasn’t a soul at sea who didn’t still fear his version of the Jolly Roger. Dean was no exception to that rule. He grabbed hold of a rope ladder that hung off the side of the ship and rested a few moments, fearful they might be his last.
Eventually, Dean found the will to pull himself out of the water. He climbed up the side of the ship without any idea what to say or do when he next saw One-Eyed Jack. The only thing he knew for sure was that he would not be asking him for another ship, no matter what Ronan had said. That was just crazy. Dean half expected to be killed just for delivering the bad news about the Reckless. He wasn’t about to waltz into the lion’s den and start twisting its tail. That was a good way to get your head bitten off.
As Dean went up the ladder, feelings of dread and guilt grew stronger with each passing rung. It was true, Gentleman Jim had gotten hurt while saving his life, but those scales had been balanced when Dean saved him from Rook. They were even, whether Ronan saw it that way or not. Dean had to worry about himself now. He wasn’t part of the Pirate Youth. He was a spy. If he was very lucky, he’d live to be an old spy. That was it.
He reached the top deck and climbed aboard. A scar-faced pirate stepped forward with a lantern in one hand and a pistol in the other. “Who goes there?”
Dean stepped into the light and held up the mark on his arm. “Dean Seaborne, to see the pirate king. He’s expecting me.”
“Seaborne? He’s been looking for you, boy!”
“I just said that.”
The pirate holstered his pistol and grabbed Dean by the arm. He dragged him across the deck as if he hadn’t come aboard of his own free will. Dean struggled to keep up. Right. I’ll be lucky to spend my life trapped with these idiots.
The scar-faced pirate pushed Dean toward a heavy black door. It groaned as it opened, and he heard One-Eyed Jack’s voice on the other side.
“How many blasted lumps of sugar did you put in this? One or two?”
One-Eyed Jack sat at the captain’s table, angrily quizzing a hapless pirate about a cup of tea. He was dressed in a nightshirt, looking half-asleep and completely homicidal. As always, Scurvy Gill stood behind his left shoulder, looking like he’d just crawled out of a coal mine.
“Speak up, you spineless wretch! How many?” One-Eyed Jack asked again.
The pirate, a large thuggish man called Lunk, swallowed hard. He had a broken nose and a dim look about him. Dean could tell he was afraid to speak. Lunk was both out of place and out of his depth pouring One-Eyed Jack’s tea. “I think I put in … one sugar?”
“You think? You don’t sound very certain.”
Lunk thought a moment. “Two. It was two, I’m sure. Two sugars.”
One-Eyed Jack frowned and let the cup slip from his grip. It dangled from his index finger, spilling everywhere. “Mr. Gill? Left foot.”
Scurvy Gill stepped forward and threw a knife. Lunk cried out as the blade lodged square in his boot. One-Eyed Jack stood up and threw his empty cup at his head for good measure. “Don’t you even think about pulling that knife out until you’ve brought me another cup of tea! And this time, you’d do well to remember that it’s one sugar! ONE! Now, get out of here before I lose my temper! Away with you!”
Lunk hobbled off, whimpering. The scar-faced pirate who had brought Dean in hurried out after him. Dean tried to slip away as well. The captain was in a mood. It was no good dealing with him when he was in a mood. Unfortunately, Scurvy Gill had already spotted Dean.
“Not so fast, Seaborne. Sit yerself down.” He pushed out a chair, using the toe of his boot, leaving a greasy black mark on the seat. Scurvy Gill was still the dirtiest pirate Dean had ever met. The crew had a running bet as to when his last bath was, and as far as Dean knew, no one had ever guessed less than thirteen months.
Dean crossed the room to the chair and gulped as he took a seat at the captain’s table. One-Eyed Jack picked up the empty saucer that had come with his teacup and held it aloft. “A simple cup of tea. Really, is that too much to ask?”
Scurvy Gill scratched an ugly rash on his neck. “Not too much at all, Cap’n.”
One-Eyed Jack tossed the saucer away carelessly. It shattered on the floor. “I can’t even trust these pikers to get that much right.” He grunted and turned his eye on Dean. “Then we have you, Seaborne. What am I going to do with you? Gentleman Jim came back with some pathetic tributes these last few months, but at least before you joined his crew, he always came back. What did you do out there?”
“Me?” Dean touched his hands to his chest. “Nothing! What makes you think I did anything?”
“You must’ve done something. You wouldn’t have run off again otherwise.”
Dean shook his head. “I wasn’t running. I came here on my own tonight. I came to make my report.”
Scurvy Gill snorted. “Yer late. We already got a report.”
“
Aye, that we did. A ship lost, its captain dead, and the boy I sent to spy on him is nowhere to be found. I warned you not to disappoint me again, Seaborne. Do I look happy to you?”
“No, sir.”
One-Eyed Jack waved a hand. “Mr. Gill, cut his throat.”
Dean shook in his seat. One-Eyed Jack was going to kill him before he even got a chance to speak! He got up too fast and stumbled backward over his chair. He would have been dead meat, but Scurvy Gill reached for a knife that wasn’t there.
“Bah! My blade’s still lodged in that cretin’s foot.”
“So? You have another.”
“Cap’n, it’s me killin’ blade.”
One-Eyed Jack sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “Fine! When he comes back, then.” He hollered at the door, “What the devil’s taking so long?”
Dean stuck his head out the cabin door to get a look. Down at the other end of the ship, he saw Lunk hobbling along, spilling tea and leaking blood with every step he took. Dean had to talk fast or not at all.
“Captain, I wasn’t running, honest! There’s a good reason I didn’t come back with the others. I can expl—” Dean stopped himself. “Wait a minute. Who told you Gentleman Jim’s dead?”
“I did,” Rook said, stepping forth out of the shadows. “Didn’t know you was a spy, Seaborne. Looks like I did yer job for ya this time. Already told the cap’n everything there is to know.”
Dean gritted his teeth, finally putting all the puzzle pieces together. “I’ll bet you did. The rumblings One-Eyed Jack heard about Gentleman Jim … they came from you, didn’t they? You told him about the Gentleman’s Code.”
“It’s true, then!” One-Eyed Jack cut in. “Rook tells me Gentleman Jim walked away from filthy-rich targets time and again. Ships he could have raided for loot to pay me with, and he just let them be. You saw him do this?”
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