The Wrath of a Shipless Pirate (The Godlanders War)

by Aaron Pogue

  His heart pounding now with unspent anger, Corin pursued the bigger man. He feinted high then threw a quick, sharp kick that snapped something in the villain’s ankle. The Raentzman started to fall then, and as he passed, Corin smashed an elbow against the back of his neck. That drew another groan—as well as some approving grunts—from his audience. It also left the Raentzman out cold on the floor.

  Now Corin drew a weapon. He went for the sword Godslayer too, instead of the little dagger. Bar fights were not uncommon in a Nimble Fingers tavern, but the rules said to keep them one-on-one. If anyone felt an urge to avenge the big man on the floor, the rules went out the window.

  One slow glance told him he was safe. For now, at least. There were perhaps a dozen patrons in the bar, dressed like locals and none of them with the look of a sailor. If any had thought to spring on him, the sword had instantly dissuaded them. Now it held all their eyes transfixed, and that gave Corin time enough to catch his breath and formulate a question in his uneasy Raentzian. He found the inn’s proprietor among the watchers, marked as clearly by the scars across his face as by the tarnished tin ring on his right hand. Corin nodded his direction. “What was his problem?”

  The innkeeper answered in easy Ithalian. “Josef has no love for your countrymen.”

  Corin frowned. “My countrymen?”

  “That was an Ithalian knock if ever I’ve heard one. Josef’s something of a connoisseur.”

  “Of knocks?”

  “All manner of secret signs.” The innkeeper jerked his head toward the bar, then pulled Corin a flagon of beer. As he passed it over, he went on. “Josef is our records keeper.”

  Corin gaped at that. He spun on his heel to stare at the man he’d dropped, and took in details he’d missed during the frenzy of the fight. He was old, for one—nearly thirty—and the fringe around his big bald head was dusty red. Corin shook his head. “Josef of Marzelle? I know him! I studied under him.”

  “Oh, many have.”

  “But I don’t understand. He bore me no ill will then.”

  The innkeeper shrugged. “Times have changed. Some of your countrymen have staked a claim on Marzelle, and they play by no rules but their own. Josef thought you had the look of one of them.”

  “Aye,” Corin said, staring sadly at the unconscious form of Josef. “He’s got a good eye. These countrymen of mine. They would be pirates?”

  The innkeeper nodded. Corin took a long drink, then nodded back. “I know them right enough. Dave Taker and his boys. I only just learned that they call Marzelle home. In fact, I came to your tavern tonight to ask for aid in finding them.”

  The innkeeper pursed his lips, clearly worrying he’d said too much. “You…you struck me as a man who knows the rules.”

  Corin grinned back. “Friend, I’ve shaken hands with Avery himself. I mean you no trouble. I have a score to settle with Dave Taker and his crew.”

  The innkeeper breathed a heavy sigh, “Then we are friends indeed. Even Josef may clasp your hand when he recovers. He always did respect a worthy foe.” He stepped aside to call out orders in his native tongue to the other patrons, who still stood watching Corin in utter fascination.

  At the innkeeper’s command, the others finally began to move. They lifted Josef from the floor and found him a more comfortable position on one of the long benches against the outer wall. Someone ran to fetch a physician too, and that reminded Corin that he had other pressing questions.

  “If you would call me friend,” he said, “I could dearly use some information.”

  “We get but little news since the pirates settled in, but I will tell you what I can.”

  “What do you know of druids in Marzelle?”

  “Druids?” He laughed. “There are none here. If you need druids, head out west to the Dividing Line. They keep to their circles and rarely trouble us at all.”

  “But I just met a woman in the streets. She dressed like a local, but she carried a druid artifact.”

  “No doubt stolen.”

  “No. I know her to be a druid.”

  The innkeeper shrugged. “Then you know more than I. But I can tell you they do not find favor with our ruling houses or our gods, so if she is still in town at all, she’ll do everything within her power to stay hidden.”

  “And that’s a problem?” Corin asked. “Is there no one in your Nimble Fingers who excels at finding just such people?”

  “There may be one or two. Are you prepared to ask this favor of them?”

  Corin didn’t answer right away. Favors carried heavy weight within the Nimble Fingers, and Corin had no surplus to share. He could scarce afford the extra burden, with all the work he already had to do. So he sighed and shook his head. “No. Forget the druid. I’ll find her on my own. But I will ask their help in tracking down two of my enemies.”

  “Are these the pirates?”

  “Aye. Dave Taker’s cousin Tommy and Tommy’s loyal sidekick, Billy Bo.”

  The innkeeper shook his head. “Such silly names you pirates wear.”

  Corin shrugged. “They are a kind of armor. And at times, a kind of weapon too.”

  “And you mean to do battle with these names?”

  Corin showed his teeth. “They dared to mutiny against me. They have harmed a loyal friend. I mean to war with them.”

  “Then these charges will not cost you any favors. I suspect when you provide an adequate description, we will already know where to find them. We are watching, after all.”

  “Ah, but I don’t even know if they’ve arrived yet. I may have beaten these two to Marzelle, so it may require a careful watch.”

  “When did you expect them?”

  Corin paused, calculating in his head. They’d spent the winter in the Endless Desert. It had been about the end of February when they found Jezeeli. By Charlie’s estimation, Corin had lost more than three months in his short step across the desert, and some couple days with Charlie there in Khera. If Tommy and Billy both went straight to Raentz from Ahmed’s place, it would still take them weeks. Corin plotted the most likely course, double-checked it, and nodded to himself. “No sooner than the first of June,” he said. “No later than July.”

  The innkeeper blinked, surprised. “Then they arrived two months ago.”

  Corin groaned.

  The innkeeper went on. “Or it will be most of a year. Do you mean to wait so long?”

  Corin buried his face in his hands. “When is this?” The innkeeper didn’t answer right away, so Corin clarified. “What month and year? How much time have I lost now?”

  “It is the fourth of August in the twenty-third year of the reign of Francis.”

  “Two months!” Corin groaned again. “Two more months lost while Dave Taker plays the tyrant here. While Ethan Blake slips through my fingers! While Iryana…”

  Corin fell silent. He remembered all too clearly the fiery anger that had fueled him during his fight with Josef. Already the fire was stoking forge-hot again. No matter what he did, his enemies slipped further and further away. And the only ones he managed to hurt at all were his friends. He thought of Charlie Claire, his scalp split open in the scholar’s rooms. He thought of the poor young scholar Tesyn. And of the terrified look in the druid woman’s eyes when he confronted her. Even old Josef had been a friend once.

  He’d spent too long silent. The innkeeper cleared his throat and, with a nervous edge to his voice, asked, “Is there something troubling you?”

  “I have been blown about by stormwinds,” Corin said. “And it has gained me nothing. It is time I took the tiller.”

  “Oh?”

  Corin laughed darkly. “Aye. I have much work to do, and I will ask a thousand favors if I must. You say Marzelle is starved for news?”

  “The Captain’s men are hanging Nimble Fingers in the streets. No one comes this way.”

  “But you can leave? Even Raentz has roads, hasn’t it?”

  The innkeeper puffed up behind the bar. “We have the finest post in a
ll Hurope.”

  “Then choose your finest sneak and send him down the road. If news won’t come to you, then go and fetch it.”

  “But the Captain—”

  “Will be busy soon. Too busy by far to catch your slinking messenger.”

  “You truly mean to go to war with him?”

  Corin shook his head. “No. He is no mighty foe. He and his crew alike are wretched vermin, and I mean to exterminate them.”

  “It will be no easy task.”

  Corin clapped the innkeeper on the shoulder. “I am no normal thief.”

  “Then ask anything you need of me, and it is yours. I speak for this chapter of the Nimble Fingers, and I will guarantee you anything Marzelle can hope to offer.”

  “But all I ask is news. There is a nobleman’s son of the house Vestossi who, for some time, sailed under the pirate name of Ethan Blake. Some months ago, he gained and lost his first command.”

  “You called him Ethan Blake?”

  “Aye, just so. Find out what has become of him. And he had with him a desert girl named Iryana. I must know her fate as well.”

  “Iryana. His…mistress?”

  “Perhaps. Perhaps his slave. Perhaps his victim. I do not know.”

  “We will do our best to discover it.”

  “Good. And find Ben Strunk for me. He’s most likely to be—”

  The innkeeper interrupted to clarify. “Another pirate?”

  Corin gaped. “You don’t know Ben Strunk? Well, there’s another favor you will owe me. He is no pirate. He does not belong to the Nimble Fingers either, but he loves to patronize our taverns.”

  “Is he a spy? A justicar?”

  “Gods’ blood, your heart is grim. He’s no kind of foe. He is just a dwarf who loves to drink and lose at cards. And he’s a close friend of mine.”

  “Then we will find him for you.”

  “I’ll be grateful for it. And last, when I have made Marzelle safe for you once more, I will ask your aid in finding me this druid. She too is a friend. Or…I hope for her to be.”

  The innkeeper paused, clearly reviewing Corin’s requests, and after a moment he nodded. “All these things can be done. And if you but rid us of the Captain, they all together will not be reward enough.”

  “Then I will also let you find some easy retirement for a friend of mine. A former pirate who goes by Charlie Claire.”

  “It seems a fair exchange.”

  Corin fetched a tiny silver ring out from his purse. It was a thing of no great value, but it was sufficient for a pledge. The rules insisted coin could not be used, so Corin always carried something of the sort.

  He slapped it down on the bar. “You have my pledge according to the rules. I will free this town from Dave Taker and his men.”

  The innkeeper produced an empty leather sheath, something fitting for a lady’s tiny poniard, but decorated in gemstone flakes and delicate gold leaf. “You have my pledge as well. Let it be done.”

  Corin finished off his beer, glad to have a plan at last, then settled in to sort out the fine details.

  The surgeon who came for Josef was no druid, but he seemed a quality physician. Once old Josef was on his feet, the two of them shared a friendly pint, and then Corin asked someone to show the doctor across town to look in on Charlie Claire. It felt a small price after all of Charlie’s loyalty.

  But mostly Corin focused on the traitors. He learned everything he could from the locals, and everything pointed back to Dave Taker. All their troubles had started back in April, shortly after Corin disappeared. For a while, there had been an uneasy peace, brokered by an unseen pirate who called himself “the Captain.” That had to be Ethan Blake. Corin was sure of it.

  He’d come to town with a small fortune to spare, and he’d spent it buying out the local watchmen and justices. Those few who wouldn’t tender to Ithalian silver disappeared. For a while, the Nimble Fingers had considered it a luxury.

  But then, some weeks back, the Captain had disappeared. He left an authority in his place, and that one went by “the First Mate.” He was the man so fiercely despised by Marzelle’s citizens, for he had ruled through violence and force. He’d crushed the Nimble Fingers and anyone else who had threatened either his authority or wealth.

  Discussing all this with the innkeeper, Corin had tried to offer help. “That must be Dave Taker, though I’ve never known him to think so big.”

  The innkeeper shrugged. “It might well be. He’s never used an honest name.”

  “How can that be?”

  “He never needed one. The Captain came with silver enough to justify his quirks, and the First Mate has operated under the authority that silver purchased.”

  “Then I’ll describe Dave Taker to you.”

  “No better. We have never seen the First Mate at all.”

  Corin rocked back. “Absurd! How can he run this town without someone in your organization encountering him? There should at least be rumors.”

  “Of course, but the rumors paint him ten feet tall with pointy teeth and claws for hands.”

  “And none of you has gone in person to find out?”

  “That’s what I’m telling you! There is no ‘in person’ with this man. He reigns by proxy. In all his time here, he has never shown his face.”

  Corin’s shoulders sagged. “Well, this I can believe. The Vestossis have always loved their paranoia. But it’s an opportunity too.”

  “What opportunity?”

  “If he reigns by proxy, and if I can remove him, someone else can step into his place. Someone like you or Josef. And simply use his proxies to your own ends.”

  The innkeeper whistled in stunned admiration. “You are a devious creature. But no.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “You do not understand how cruel this man has been. Who of us could bear to step into his role? Even as a farce. No. We won’t.”

  Corin licked his lips. “That’s fine. That’s fine. I will remove him all the same.”

  “But how?”

  “Where does he hide? Can you at least tell me that much?”

  “He lives aboard his ship, the Espinola. As far as we can tell, he never leaves. Magistrates and justices and even local lords will sometimes come and go, but they speak only with his concierge.”

  “Then how can they even know they’re truly dealing with the Captain’s man?”

  “Those who defy the orders they receive invariably…suffer. Lord Béthané’s manor burned to the ground, his wife and child still inside it. The Marquis’s prize thoroughbreds were butchered to the last and left to rot in their own paddocks.

  Corin shuddered. “This sounds like Dave Taker and his men.”

  “And those who obey their orders are handsomely rewarded. But it is fear, not love, that grants the Captain and his First Mate such authority.”

  Corin spent a moment thinking. “What has been tried already?”

  “The Marquis did send a plea to the court at Pri for aid.”

  Corin scoffed. “And I suspect they answered that this was a local matter.”

  “To be resolved by local authorities. Exactly so. Lord Béthané roused his own armed militia to take the ship or sink it.”

  Corin sighed. “And his militia was cut down. Did they even make it to the piers?”

  “Only a handful. Most of them died in the streets while crossing town.”

  Corin nodded. “Aye. I’d have done the same. But what has the Nimble Fingers done?”

  Surprise and incomprehension reigned in the innkeeper’s expression. “The Nimble Fingers? We have done everything within our power to keep concealed and keep alive.”

  “You haven’t fought him? When he’s been hanging your people in the streets?”

  “We’re thieves. We aren’t soldiers.”

  Corin stopped himself short of shouting. Would he have done anything, before he rose to captain of a pirate ship? Likely not. Even then, it might have been the visit to Jezeeli that finally forged him into
a man of action.

  But now he had seen too clearly the cost of inaction in the face of tyranny. Such monsters knew no bounds, and any price was a fair one if it could strip them of their power.

  Corin closed his hand around the grip of the sword Godslayer and caught the innkeeper’s eye. “This darkness is nearly at an end. But first, I ask you to prepare me something warm and rich to eat, and pick out a room for me.”

  “You will rest? Now?”

  “It has been two months since I last had something real to eat, longer since I slept. Besides, it will take some time for my plan to be set in motion.”

  “Then you have devised a plan?”

  “I have.”

  “Will you tell it?”

  Corin thought a moment and shrugged. “It is very much like Béthané’s except that I will go alone. And I will do what he could not.”

  “How?”

  Corin grinned. “In much the same way I defeated Josef here. I am one of them, and I am worse than them. They will never see me coming.”

  Corin set out at dawn, with encouragement from the innkeeper and a hearty breakfast warming his belly. He had to cross half the town again to reach the port, but this time he didn’t skulk. He went boldly by the light of day, and his longblack cloak flared around him. He pretended not to notice when a deckhand from Bad Brandon’s crew recognized him. Carl? Cane? Something of the sort. From the corner of his eye, Corin watched the man’s burst of recognition shift to surprise, and surprise to dark ambition. After all, there would be some reward to the man who informed the First Mate that Corin Hugh was in town.

  So Corin marched on, apparently oblivious, as Carl or Cane or Connor—whoever he was—sprinted off toward the docks. Corin allowed himself a fraction of a smile as he went on.

  Three more old acquaintances repeated Carl’s performance, and then a fourth surprised Corin. It was Lucky Lou, a gray-haired, stringy old veteran who had served with Corin on Old Grim’s crew years ago.