That would give them something to ponder, Locke thought. A freebooter captain more commonly took two to four shares from ten of any plunder got at sea. Just the thought of equal shares for all would quell a great many mutinous urges.
1 Equal shares,” he repeated above another sudden outburst of babble. “But you make your decision here and now. Take oath to me as your captain and I will free you immediately. I have means to get you off this rock and over to the Red Messenger. We’ll have hours of darkness to clear the harbour and be well away. If you don’t want to come, fine. But no courtesies in that case. You’ll stay here when we’re gone. Maybe the morning relief will be impressed with your honesty… but I doubt it. Who among you will desist? None of the prisoners said anything. “Who among you will go free, and join my crew?”
Locke winced at the eruption of shouts and cheers, then allowed himself a wide, genuine grin.
“All gods as your witness!” he shouted. “Upon your lips and upon your hearts.” “Our oath is made,” said Jabril, while those around him nodded.
“Then stand upon it or pray to die, and be damned and found wanting on the scales of the Lady of the Long Silence.” “So we stand,” came a chorus of shouts. Locke passed the ring of keys over to Jean. The prisoners watched in an ecstasy of disbelief as he found the proper key, slid it into the lock and gave it a hard turn to the right.
8
“There is one problem,” said Stragos. “Just one?” Locke rolled his eyes. “There are only forty left of the forty-four I selected.” “How will that suit the needs of the ship?”
“We’ve got food and water for a hundred days with sixty,” said Caldris. “And she can be handled well with half that number. Once we’ve got them sorted out, we’ll do fine for hands at the lines.”
“So you will,” said Stragos. “The missing four are women. I had them placed in a separate cell. One of them developed a gaol-fever and soon they all had it. I had no choice but to move them to shore; they’re too weak to lift their arms, let alone join this expedition.”
“We’re for sea with not a woman aboard,” said Caldris. “Will not Merrain be coming with us, then?”
“I’m afraid,” she said sweetly, “that my talents will be required elsewhere.” “This is mad,” cried Caldris. “We taunt the Father of Storms!” ^
“You can find women for your crew in Port Prodigal, perhaps even good officers.” Stragos spread his hands. “Surely you’ll be fine for the duration of a single voyage down.”
“Would that it were mine to so declare,” said Caldris, a haunted look in his eyes. “Master Kosta, this is a poor way to start. We must have cats. A basket of cats, for the Red Messenger. We need what luck we can steal. All gods as your witness, you must not fail to have cats aboard that ship before we put to sea.” “Nor shall I,” said Locke.
“Then it’s settled,” said Stragos. “Heed this now, Kosta. Concerning the… depth of your deception. In case you have any misgivings. None of the men you’ll be taking from the Windward Rock have ever served in my navy, so they” ve little notion of what to expect from one of my officers. And soon enough you’ll be Ravelle the pirate rather than Ravelle the naval captain, so you may tailor the impersonation as you see fit, and worry little over small details.”
“That’s good,” said Locke. “I” ve got enough of those crammed into my head just now.”
“I have one last stipulation,” Stragos continued. “The men and women who serve at the Windward Rock, even those who are not party to this scheme, are among my finest and most loyal. I will provide means for you to disable them without rendering permanent harm. In no way are they to be otherwise injured, not by you nor your crew, and gods help you if you leave any dead.” “Curious sentiments for a man who claims to be no stranger to risks.”
“I would send them into battle at any time, Kosta, and lose them willingly. But none who wear my colours honestly are to die as part of this; that much my honour compels me to grant them. You are supposed to be professionals. Consider this a test of your professionalism.”
“We’re not bloody murderers,” said Locke. “We kill for good reason, when we kill at all.”
“So much the better,” said Stragos. “That is all I have to say, then. This day is yours to do with as you see fit. Tomorrow evening, just before midnight, you’ll land on the Windward Rock and start this business.” “We need our antidote,” said Locke. Jean and Caldris nodded.
“Of course. You three will get your last vials just before you leave. After that… I shall expect your first return within two months. And a report of your progress.”
9
Locke and Jean managed a ragged muster of their new crew just inside the entrance hall. Jean had to demonstrate his physical strength to several men who attempted to vent their frustrations on the sleeping guards.
“I said you touch them at your peril,” Locke snarled for the third time. “Let them be! If we leave them dead behind us, we’ll lose all sympathy with anyone. Let them live, and Verrari will be laughing about this for months to come.
“Now,” he said, “move out quietly to the dockside. Take your ease, stretch your legs, have a good long look at the sea and sky. I” ve a boat to fetch before we can be away. For the sake of us all, keep your mouths shut.”
They mostly obeyed this admonition, breaking up into little whispering groups as they moved out of the tower. Locke noticed that some of the men hung back near the door, their hands on the stones, as though afraid to step out beneath the open sky. He couldn’t say he blamed them after months or years in the vault.
“That’s lovely,” said Jabril, who fell into step beside Locke as they approached the dock where Caldris still paced with his lantern. “Fuckin” lovely. Almost as lovely as not having to smell us all at once.” “You’ll be crammed together again soon enough,” said Locke. “Aye. Same but different.”
“Jabril,” said Locke, raising his voice, “in time, as we come to know one another’s strengths, we can hold proper votes for some of the officers we’ll need. For now, I’m naming you acting mate.” “Mate of what?”
“Mate of whatever.” Locke grinned and slapped him on the back. “I’m not in the navy any more, remember? You’ll answer to Jerome. Keep the men in order. Take the weapons from that soldier tied to the dock, just in case we need to pull a little steel this evening. I don’t expect a fight, but we should be ready.”
“Good evening, Captain Ravelle,” said Caldris. “I see you” ve fetched them out just as you planned.”
“Aye,” said Locke. “Jabril, this is Caldris, my sailing master. Caldris, Jabril is acting mate under Jerome. Listen to me!” Locke raised his voice without shouting, lest it echo across the water to unseen ears. “I came with a boat for six. I have a boat for forty nearby. I need two men to help me row. Won’t be half an hour, and then we’ll be away.”
Two younger prisoners stepped forward, looking eager for anything that would relieve the tedium of what thed’r been through.
“Right,” said Locke as he stepped down into their little boat, after Caldris and the two sailors. “Jerome, Jabril, keep order and quiet. Try to sort out those that can work right away from those that will need a few days to recover their strength.”
Anchored half a mile out from the Windward Rock was a long launch, invisible in the moonlight until Caldris’s lantern found it from about fifty yards away. Locke and Caldris worked quickly to rig the boat’s small sail; then, slowly but surely, they steered their way back toward the Rock with the two ex-prisoners rowing the little boat beside them. Locke glanced around nervously, spotting a sail or two gleaming palely on the far horizons, but nothing closer.
“Listen well,” he said when the launch was tied up below the dock and surrounded by his would-be crew. He was pleasantly surprised at how quickly thed’r settled down to the business at hand. Of course, that made sense — they were the crews of impounded ships, not hardcases imprisoned for individual crimes. It didn’t make saints o
f them, but it was nice to have something unforeseen working in his favour for once.
“Able hands take the oars. Don’t be shy if you’re less than able for the time being; I know some of you have been down there too damn long. Just sit in the middle of the launch and take it easy. You can recover yourselves on the voyage out. We’ve plenty to eat.”
That lent them some cheer. Once at sea, Locke knew, the state of their rations might easily approach that of the prison slop they were leaving behind, but for a fair few days thed’r have a supply of fresh meat and vegetables to look forward to.
In good order the former prisoners clambered aboard the launch; soon the gunwales were lined with those claiming to be able-bodied and oars were being slipped into their locks. Jabril took the bow, waving up at Locke and Caldris when all was in readiness.
“Right,” said Locke. “The Messenger is anchored south of the Sword Marina on the seaward side, wanting nothing save her crew. One guard stands watch for the night, and I’ll deal with him. Just follow us and go aboard once I” ve done that; the nets are lowered over the side and the defences are stowed.”
Locke took the bow of the small boat and struck what he hoped was an appropriately regal posture. Jean and Caldris took the oars, and the last two prisoners sat at the stern, one of them holding Caldris’s lantern.
“Say farewell to the Windward Rock, boys,” said Locke. “And bid fuckyou to the Archon of Tal Verrar. We’re bound for sea.”
10
A shadow within shadows watched the two boats depart.
Merrain moved out of her position beside the tower and gave a small wave as the low, grey shapes diminished into the south. She loosed the black silk scarf that had covered her lower face and pushed back the hood of her black jacket; she had lain in the shadows beside the tower for nearly two hours, waiting patiently for Kosta and de Ferra to finish their business. Her own boat was stashed beneath a rocky overhang on the east side of the island, little more than a cockleshell of treated leather over a wood frame. Even in moonlight, it was all but invisible on the water. She padded quietly into the entrance hall of the prison, finding the two guards much where she expected, carelessly strewn about in the grip of Witfrost sleep. True to the Archon’s wishes, Kosta and de Ferra had prevented anyone from harming them.
“Alas for that,” she whispered, kneeling over the lieutenant and running a gloved finger across his cheeks. “You’re a handsome one.”
She sighed, slipped a knife from its sheath within her jacket and cut the man’s throat with one quick slash. Moving back to avoid the growing pool of blood, she wiped the blade on the guard’s breeches and contemplated the woman lying across the entrance hall.
The two atop the tower could live; it wouldn’t be plausible for anyone to have climbed the stairs and gone for them. But she could do the one on the dock, the two here and the one who was supposed to be downstairs.
That would be enough, she reckoned — it wasn’t that she desired Kosta and de Ferra to fail. But if they did return successful in their mission, what was to stop Stragos from assigning them another task? His poison made tools of them indefinitely. And if they could return victorious, well… men like that were better off dead if they couldn’t be put to use on behalf of the interests she served.
Resolved, she set about finishing the job. The thought that for once it would be entirely painless was a comfort in her work.
11
“Captain Ravelle!”
The soldier was one of those hand-picked by the Archon to be in on some part of the deception. He feigned surprise as Locke appeared on the Red Messenger’s deck, followed by Jean, Caldris and the two ex-prisoners. The launch full of men was just butting up against the ship’s starboard side. “I didn’t expect you back this evening, sir… Sir, what’s going on?”
“I have reached a decision,” said.Locke, approaching the soldier. “This ship is too fine a thing for the Archon to have. So I am relieving him of its care and taking it to sea.” “Now hold on… hold on, sir, that’s not funny.”
“Depends on where you’re standing,” said Locke. He stepped up and delivered a feigned punch to the soldier’s stomach. “Depends on if you’re standing.” By arrangement, the man did a very credible impression of having received a devastating blow and fell backwards to the deck, writhing. Locke grinned. Let his new crew whisper of that among themselves.
The crew in question had just started to come up the boarding nets on the starboard side. Locke relieved the soldier of his sword, buckler and knives, then joined Jean and Caldris at the rail to help the men up.
“What’s to be done with the launch, Captain?” Jabril spoke as he came over the side.
“It’s too damn big to carry with us on this little bitch,” said Locke. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the “subdued” guard. “We’ll set him adrift in it. Jerome!” “Aye, sir,” said Jean.
“Get everyone up and muster all hands at the waist. Master Caldris! You know the vessel best for now; give us light.”
Caldris fetched alchemical lamps from a locker near the wheel, and with Locke’s help he hung them about the deck until they had more than enough soft, golden light to work by. Jean produced his little whistle and blew three short blasts. In moments, he had the crew herded into the middle of the ship’s waist, before the mainmast. Before them all, Locke stood, stripped off his Verrari officer’s coat and pitched it over the side. They applauded.
“Now we must have haste without carelessness,” he said. “Those of you who do not believe yourselves fit for work, hands up! No shame, lads.”
Locke counted nine hands. Most of the men who raised them were visibly aged or far too slender for good health, and Locke nodded. “We hold no grudge for your honesty. You’ll take up your share of work once you’re fit again. For now, find a spot on the main deck below, or beneath the forecastle. There’s mats and canvas in the main hold. You may sleep or watch the fun as you see fit. Now, can anyone among you claim to be any sort of cook?” One of the men standing behind Jabril raised a hand.
“Good. When the anchor’s up, get below and have a look at the stores. We’ve a brick firebox at the forecastle, plus an alchemical stone and a cauldron. We’ll want a hell of a meal once we’re out past the glass reefs, so show some initiative. And tap a cask of ale.”
The men began cheering at that, and Jean blew his whistle to quiet them down.
“Come, now!” Locke pointed to the darkness of the Elderglass island looming behind them. “The Sword Marina’s just the other side of that island, and we’re not away yet. Jerome! Capstan bars and stand by to haul up anchor. Jabril! Fetch rope from Caldris and help me with this fellow.”
Together, Locke and Jabril hoisted the “incapacitated” soldier to his feet. Locke tied a loose but very convincing knot around his hands with a scrap of rope provided by Caldris; once they were gone, the man could work himself free in minutes. “Don’t kill me, Captain, please,” the soldier muttered.
“I would never,” said Locke. “I need you to carry a message to the Archon on my behalf. Tell him that he may kiss Orrin Ravelle’s arse, that my commission is herewith resigned and that the only flag his pretty ship will fly from now on is red.”
Locke and Jabril hoisted the man over the side of the entry port and dropped him the nine feet into the bottom of the launch. He yelped in (no doubt genuine) pain and rolled over, but seemed otherwise okay.
“Use those exact words,” Locke cried, and Jabril laughed. “Now! Master Caldris, we shall make for sea!”
“Very good, Captain Ravelle.” Caldris collared the four men nearest to him and began leading them below. Under his guidance, they would keep the anchor cable moving smoothly toward its tier on the orlop. “Jerome,” said Locke, “hands to the capstan to raise anchor!”
Locke and Jabril joined all the remaining able-bodied members of the crew at the capstan, where the last of the heavy wooden bars were being slid into their apertures. Jean blew on his whistle and the men c
rammed together shoulder to shoulder on the bars.
“Raise anchor! Step-and-on! Step-and-on! Push it hard, she’ll be up ere long!” Jean chanted at the top of his lungs, giving them a cadence to stamp and shove by. The men strained at the capstan, many of them weaker than they would have liked or admitted, but the mechanism began to turn and the smell of wet cable filled the air.
“Heave-and-up! Heave-and-up! Drop the anchor and we’ll all be fucked!”
Soon enough they managed to heave the anchor up out of the water and Jean sent a party forward to the starboard bow to secure it. Most of the men stepped away from the capstan groaning and stretching, and Locke smiled. Even his old injuries still felt good after the exercise.
“Now,” he shouted, “who among you sailed this ship when she was the Fortunate Venture} Step aside.”
Fourteen men, including Jabril, separated themselves from the others. “And who among you were fair topmen?” That got him seven raised hands; good enough for the time being.
“Any of you not familiar with this ship nonetheless comfortable up above?”
Four more men stepped forward, and Locke nodded. “Good lads. You know where you’ll be, then.” He grabbed one of the non-topmen by the shoulder and steered him toward the bow. “For” ard watch. Let me know if anything untoward pops up in front of us.” He grabbed another man and pointed to the mainmast. “Get a glass from Caldris; you’ll be masthead watch for now. Don’t look at me like that — you won’t be fucking with the rigging. Just sit still and stay awake.
“Master Caldris,” he bellowed, noting that the sailing master was back on deck, “south-east by east through the reef passage called Underglass!”
“Aye, sir, Underglass. I know the very one.” Caldris, naturally, had plotted their course through the glass reefs in advance and carefully instructed Locke in the orders to give until they were out of sight of Tal Verrar. “Southeast by east.”
Jean gestured at the eleven men who’d volunteered for duty up on the heights of the yardarms, where the furled sails waited, hanging in the moonlight like the thin cocoons of vast insects. “Hands aloft to loose topsails and t” gallants! On the word, mind you!”
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