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The Wrath of a Shipless Pirate (The Godlanders War)

Page 11

by Aaron Pogue


  Corin cocked his head. “What has you so anxious to send me west, Big Jack?”

  “You remember yesterday?”

  “Aye.”

  “I did as I promised.”

  “A proper sailor’s burial?”

  “Right. Exactly.”

  “No problems?”

  “None that couldn’t be overcome.”

  Corin sat a little straighter at that, but he tried to pretend nonchalance. “Oh? What problems were there?”

  Jack shrugged. He kept his eyes fixed on the table. “One of the men got jumpy. Swore he saw Tommy Day was breathing.” He avoided Corin’s gaze. His voice held steady, but his hands were shaking. “Barely at all. Like an old man on his deathbed. But still…”

  Corin swallowed hard. “Aye? What happened then?”

  Now Jack met Corin’s eyes. “I did as I had promised, Captain. I told him he was seeing things. Corpses can get odd sometimes, you know. I clapped the corpses up in irons and dropped ’em over.”

  Corin caught a heavy breath. “You’re a good man, Jack.”

  “That I am. That I am. And I’ve spent the hours since then thinking hard.”

  “About?”

  “Doing justice. Like you said. A good bloodletting.”

  “Ah.”

  Big Jack nodded. “Exactly. And whatever grudge you hold against the little tyrant, I promise you, the world needs to see Taker dead more than Ethan Blake.”

  Corin leaned across the table and held Jack’s gaze. “Listen close. I appreciate your reasoning. I really do. But you’re forgetting Iryana. Blake has her in his power.”

  “She’s just a desert slave,” Jack said.

  “She’s a living will,” Corin said. “She was free. I stole her from her people for a purpose, and because of that, she ended up in Blake’s possession. That is wrong, no matter where she had the misfortune to be born.”

  Big Jack frowned. “Beg pardon for saying, but the slave don’t mean a thing to me. You know? She’s nothing to me. And Ethan Blake? He was nothing worth speaking of. A lousy captain, but you get those. He saw it soon enough and ran away. I’ll credit him for that.”

  Corin shook his head. “This is about more than pirate honor.”

  “Maybe for you. I can see that. But Dave Taker—same as Tommy Day—he used me, Captain. He made me his tool to hurt these folks. That blood is on my hands.”

  “They were orders, Jack.”

  The big man shook his head. “That lady in the house? I heard her screaming. Heard it all the time, after. You know? And when Pete swore he saw Tommy breathing, I thought…I thought maybe it takes blood to wash the stain of blood. You know? And when I put him in the water, that screaming stopped, Captain.”

  Corin didn’t move. He didn’t blink. This was the face of vengeance. It was an echo. Corin wanted to tell Jack to let it go, to walk away. He was a good man. There was plenty of work for an honest sailor, if he wanted to go that way.

  But Corin couldn’t say the words, because he did know. He’d killed his share of evil men. Sometimes that was the only way to stop the screaming.

  In the end, he gave a short, sharp nod. “I understand you, Jack.”

  “Then I’ll say it plain. I’m going after Dave Taker. I don’t need you coming with me. I’m up to the task.”

  “I believe you are.”

  “But I thought there was a chance you had some bloodstains of your own. Thought maybe you had some business with him, too, and I can’t pretend my honor outranks yours.”

  “I don’t know,” Corin said. “I wouldn’t want to see them side-by-side. But are you sure—”

  “I’m sure. That’s not the question.”

  Corin nodded. “Then you do what you have to do. And I’ll sleep easier knowing it’s done.”

  “Glad to be of service, Captain.”

  Corin shook his head. “I’m no one’s captain anymore.”

  “Not how it works. You know? It’s been six years since you left the chariot, but Old Grim…”

  Corin gave him a dry chuckle and nodded along. “Aye. You’ve got me there. Old Grim will always be my captain.”

  “And you’ll be mine. You were a good one.”

  “So what’s your plan? Need any help with the scheming?”

  “Nah. It’s a pretty simple one. I know the boys who run Dave Taker’s news, supplies, what have you. They’ll be stopping through tomorrow night, little smuggler’s dock out west of town. I usually have a pint or two with them before they move along. I’ll make some excuse to join them.”

  “It’s Tommy Day,” Corin said. “That’s your angle. You’ll have to play it cold, but Tommy’s death is big news. Tell them you were there, you saw it all, and you need to carry the report to Taker personally.”

  “That’s good. You’re a smart man, Captain.”

  Corin shrugged. “That’s tomorrow night? Four days along the coast, and you said two at the rendezvous.”

  “That’s at most.”

  “So by this time next week, Dave Taker will be dead.”

  “That’s what I intend.”

  Corin took a moment to review the plan, searching for some other flaw, but it seemed solid. Simple, like the man had said. Eventually he nodded. “Find me when it’s over. Can I beg that favor? Find me when it’s over, so I can hear the tale and drink your health.”

  “Sure thing,” Jack said.

  He rose to go, but Corin stopped him. “Jack!”

  “Captain?”

  “You’re a good man. I’m proud to know you.”

  “Clear skies, Captain. I’ll see you when it’s done.”

  Corin watched him leave, then he shook his head and muttered, “Clear skies, sailor. But storms are brewing.”

  Corin spent the morning making contact with his old acquaintances. It wasn’t hard. He picked a dockside tavern, almost at random, took a table in the corner, then sat and waited. Within half an hour, word had spread, and sailors from his past started dropping by. Yesterday’s encounter at the Espinola was the talk of the town, and it seemed like everyone wanted a chance to shake his hand, thank him for chasing the wretches out of town, and perhaps glean a bit of truth from all the rumors.

  Corin let the rumors stand. He held hard to his claim that he’d stopped Tommy’s heart with a touch of his hand. A lie like that could sometimes serve a man better than cold steel, so he protected Aemilia’s secrets and fabricated some of his own. It was a double victory.

  His real intention, though, was to find crews for any of Taker’s men still stuck in town. He was surprised to learn how many of them had responded to his threat. More than a hundred men had booked passage yesterday, some at enormous rates once word got around, but there were those who’d been too stupid to skim from the plundered booty, too poor now to pay their way, and by and large those were the same men who’d shown some sense of guilt for their betrayal.

  Even lacking that, Corin had no wish to see two men left together from Taker’s old crew. He would spread them to the winds. So now he asked around and traded favors, paid for some and bartered for others, and most he managed on nothing more than his swollen reputation. In three and a half hours he found stable work for two score of rotten pirates, and by noon he was already bored again.

  Shortly after lunch a new messenger arrived at the Nimble Fingers tavern. This one came from another postal stop along the road to Ithale. Apparently, Francois had ridden hard throughout the night, and he insisted he would do the same again. By the innkeeper’s calculations, the man might already be at the border, and by tomorrow they could have word from northwest Ithale. From Nicia by the weekend.

  That gave Corin hope, but alas, there was no actual intelligence to report. There would be more once he reached Ithale—the Nimble Fingers there were much better organized—but it chafed at Corin’s heart to have to wait.

  He spent an hour playing cards with Josef, Charlie, and the innkeeper. Then Charlie Claire excused himself to take a nap, and the other three spent
another hour or two talking business. They discussed the Nimble Fingers organization, and Corin made some recommendations that could easily make Marzelle’s the finest chapter anywhere in Raentz.

  But all the while, Corin’s mind was drifting. He felt the hours sloshing past like breakers on the shore, rising up to tower over him, full of promise, then smashing at his feet as so much froth. His fingers itched. He had somewhere to be.

  Night brought no news from Francois, and still no visit from the druid. Corin went out for a walk, searching every common room, every busy street corner, for any sign of Aemilia. He went back to the docks and spent two hours buying beer for sailors newly arrived from distant ports. Some of them had heard of Ethan Blake, but none of them could tell Corin his true name or what town he now called home.

  Heading back to the shady tavern, Corin cut down through empty alleys every chance he got, just hoping he might crash into Aemilia again. He never did. He spent another sleepless night, then rose at dawn and headed back across the town to see if any new sailors had come in with the tide.

  Exhaustion drove him back to the shady tavern early in the afternoon. He announced himself with a knock on the door, nodded absently to Josef as he went past, and then scanned the room for messengers and thousand-year-old ladies. It was depressingly deficient.

  “Any news?” he asked the innkeeper.

  “Have patience, Captain. It is a long road.”

  “Longer than you know.” Corin sighed. “I’m going to my room. If you hear the sound of things breaking, send up rum.”

  The man looked a little more alarmed than necessary at Corin’s quip, but Corin didn’t feel like soothing him. He slunk away, down the hall and up the stairs, and then let himself into the modest room.

  Aemilia waited by the window. She didn’t turn when Corin entered, so he took his time addressing her. He shed his cloak and unbuckled the sword belt, then collapsed onto his bed and lay there staring at the water-damaged ceiling. For a while, he just breathed.

  At last, he pushed up on one elbow and asked, “Well, are you going to join me here or what?”

  She rounded on him, unamused. “This is no time for joking, Corin Hugh. Our destiny hangs in the balance—and yours more than most.”

  Corin quirked an eyebrow. “And? What’s the verdict?”

  “Six to one against.”

  “Against what?”

  She came a step toward him. Her expression showed no sense of humor. “Preventive homicide.”

  “Oh. Then I guess I won.” He breathed a moment more, then frowned, “Were you the one?”

  Just a hint of a smile. “I was not.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “You haven’t heard the details yet. You will not like the details.”

  “I haven’t liked much since killing Tommy Day. Tell me anyway.”

  She came to stand at the foot of his bed, staring down at him. There was pity in her plain brown eyes, but no compromise. “You’re going to have to come in. The Council wouldn’t budge. You cannot be allowed to run the risk—”

  He growled at her like a cornered animal. “I already said—”

  “And I repeated everything you said. I argued for you, Corin. What do you think took so long? But this is a chance we’ll never have again. This is a final gift from Oberon. This is an opportunity to—”

  “No! This is my life,” he said, unyielding. She flinched at the severity of his tone, and he regretted that. But he did not relent. “It’s not up for discussion.”

  She sank down on the end of the bed and stared at her hands in her lap. “This is not imprisonment. Far from it.”

  “But you would bring me in? You would restrict my movements?”

  “For your own protection! And it’s not that bad. There are some special luxuries among the druid circles. It’s certainly far more comfortable than…this.”

  “I don’t ask for comfort. I ask for freedom.”

  “You will have it. And you’ll offer it to millions of other lives. Can you imagine that? If you make good on what you’ve promised, you will offer a new kind of liberty to all the sons and daughters of the Godlands.”

  “If I do as I am told? If I bow and scrape before the druid council?”

  She closed her eyes. “It’s not like that. We’re not like that. You claimed you met some of us in the past. You knew about the Council.”

  “Aye. And I helped Jeff and Delaen save you from Ephitel. Do you know what happened next?”

  She shook her head. “No. The timelines were divergent.”

  “So you said. But I will tell you now. Jeff and Delaen scampered off like rats and left me and the Violets to face Ephitel and a hundred of his men.”

  “But you’ve admitted that was not the real—”

  “It was real enough to me,” Corin said. “And you…” He trailed off, almost smiling in spite of himself. “You are so much like the you I met in Oberon’s dream. And honestly, your organization doesn’t seem much different either. They’ll do what they deem best according to the strictures, and woe befall the manling caught up in the works.”

  “That isn’t fair. We’ve given our lives to serve the sons and daughters.”

  “And now you’re ready to give mine.” Corin shook his head. “I told you my terms. They’re not negotiable.”

  She sighed and met his eyes. “As it happens, I have not come to negotiate. I came to warn you.”

  Corin blinked. “Warn me?”

  “Indeed. The Council voted to detain you. They have extraordinary means.”

  Corin’s lip curled in a snarl. “They’re not the only ones.”

  “Please, Corin. I shouldn’t even be here, but I came to ask—”

  He cut her off. “Will you help me, Aemilia? Are you truly my friend? Will you help me evade them?”

  For a moment she said nothing. Then she gave a tiny shake of her head. “I can’t.”

  He leaned toward her. “I’m not asking for a big betrayal or a life on the run. I’m only asking for a brief diversion and a bit of information.”

  “Why?”

  “I have to get to Ethan Blake. More than one life depends on it.”

  “Oh.” She looked away. “The girl you love?”

  Corin shook his head sharply. “I don’t love her. I never…why do people keep saying that?”

  Aemilia gave him a quiet smile. “It shows when you talk about her.”

  “I don’t love her! I owe a debt, and I take that personally.”

  She watched him for a moment, saying nothing. Then she shrugged. “Sure. I did tell them about her. Perhaps there’s something we can do.”

  “I can’t trust this in someone else’s hands. And I owe Ethan Blake more than you’d be willing to give him.”

  “That’s precisely why we need to bring you in! Can’t you see? You’re talking about a war with the Vestossis!”

  “Just one.”

  “There’s no such thing as just one Vestossi! And war with the Vestossis is war with Ephitel.”

  “Isn’t that what you want?”

  “Yes! On our terms. You said yourself that we have the advantage of surprise. Will you squander that to kill some wretched little man?”

  Corin opened his mouth to answer, but he couldn’t. Not right away. It only made him angrier. “There’s…no. No, but…Listen, we will still have the advantage. If I slaughter Ethan Blake, will Ephitel really come after me over one stinking, worthless cousin?”

  “His authority is built on the threat of power. He will leap at the opportunity. I’m surprised that you don’t know this of him.”

  Corin hung his head. “I do. Then let us make a trap of it.”

  “You see? That’s a brilliant plan. That’s why we should work together. Come back to the circles.”

  Corin met her eyes. “How long will it take them? How long will they dither? How long will they make me prove myself?”

  She licked her lips. “It is not so bad as that.”

  �
�How long?”

  She didn’t answer.

  Corin smiled, lips pressed tight. “I appreciate your honesty. That’s why I’m asking you this favor.”

  She wrung her hands, trembling. “I cannot defy the strictures!”

  “But you can delay. Surely you can delay. Lose track of me for a moment. That’s all it really takes.”

  “And then what?”

  “I’ll disappear. They can’t blame you for that. I am a sneaky scoundrel. I only really need three days of liberty. Maybe four, depending on where he is. Find the rodent for me and step aside, and I’ll deliver myself to your Council when the week is done.”

  “If you are still alive.”

  There was a touch of real concern in her voice. Not for the world, not for the druids’ plans, but for Corin himself. It stunned him for a moment, and then he snorted dismissively to cover his surprise. “I’ve tangled with Blake’s sort before. Gods’ blood, I’ve tangled with him. He thinks he’s lightning with a sword, but I am not looking for a duel. I will settle him and then I’ll melt into the shadows. Let them look for me then. Let even Ephitel come after me. He will not find me.”

  “You’re something, Corin Hugh. Such confidence…”

  He shook his head. “Experience. I’ve been doing this since I was still a child. Please, Aemilia. Give me a name. Tell me where he is. Then turn your back for but a moment. That’s all I ask of you.”

  “So you can go do murder.”

  “For the greater good,” he insisted. “And in exchange for this small mercy, I…I will bow to your Council. Think how many millions of lives you could benefit by bending this one small rule.”

  She shook her head, an admiring smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You are a force of nature.”

  “I am justice dressed in black.” Then Corin saw something in her eyes and grinned outright. “Storm’s fury, you have his name already, don’t you? You tracked him down while you were with the Council. Tell me. Say it’s true.”

  “I…did not come to send you after Blake. But I did bring another offer.”

  “You think I am so easily distracted?”

  She smirked. “Like a ship in a gale.”

 

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