Buxacan Spicerunner

by Goodwin, Warren;

  This one had a drawing of another black flag, with an axe crossed by a sword. “The Facepainters. They paint their faces like the Moks do for battle. Their ship is the Pelican—three-masted, three hundred forty tons and twenty-six guns. Dol Donles, an Agresian of indeterminate age. He has a hundred twelve men. Donles has looted forty-two ships, fourteen from Jonos. He’s been operating for nine years.” Valmed paused to light his pipe. “These two are just pirates, regardless of how long they’ve sailed. This last one has been deemed an Enemy of the Kingdom.” Valmed opened the last file and put it on top of the other two.

  At the top of the page was a black flag, more complex than the other two. Evil eyes were outlined. They featured red irises, and a bloody cutlass passed below the eyes. It was almost a face.

  “They call this flag the ‘Bloody Smile’, and call themselves the Smilers. This is a new one, only active for three years, and they’ve only taken a dozen ships so far. Lozia Iambola, son of the Duke of the Ingos, has offered a reward of five thousand queens for a live capture of the captain. More importantly, these are the ones who ransomed Lord Falero, the Queen’s nephew, for seventy-five hundred queens. They also looted Stafa for approximately forty-five thousand flames—that’s over thirteen thousand kings!—and he did it with only three dozen men at the time.

  “We’ve seen them three times, each time on a different ship. They will not humiliate me again. Captain’s name is Sako Pizi, a Kimbulan of Dalarian descent. He’s only twenty-two years old. This boy aims high—each ship is bigger and more powerful than the last.

  “His current ship is the Spicerunner, an Alarfaji xebec. It’s three-masted and rigged like a fore-and-aft. Three hundred fifty tons, but most of that is length, and thirty-four guns. He killed a son of the Sulmir of Alarfaj to get that ship. When last seen in Ingo West he commanded sixty men or so, but there are eighty-six now.”

  Valmed closed the file and leaned forward. “This one is really dangerous. He’ll be the next Anford if I don’t stop him now.

  “Questions? Good. Make ready to cast off, we’re going hunting.”

  Epilogue

  Six bedraggled and emaciated men were brought in to Gateway aboard the Melia on her return voyage from Colada. They had been marooned on a tiny island in the Chains for two years and ten months. They told of a vicious pirate that had taken their ship, the Horizon, and left them to die. The pirate’s name was Sako Pizi.

  Captain Winois received a dispatch containing the latest list of the most wanted pirates and the reward for capturing them. Deadeye and StrongArm were still there, as was Spiderhead. But at the top of the list was a new pirate. This one had looted Stafa in a sneak attack from the landward side. The Northern Trading Company was offering its own reward in addition to the one offered by the Naval Affairs Committee. His name was Sako Pizi.

  Pyer Stom was the first of Sweetwood’s squadron to reach Tevon. He had found Rumtown, but would wait for one of the Navy captains to return before he reported to Admiral Harring. He read in the local papers of a vicious new menace to shipping. This pirate attacked anything, even slaverunners, and had ransomed the children of Lord Arvin. Some Kimbulan called Sako Pizi.

  Stories circulated throughout the Chains about a strange ship sailed by ferocious cutthroats who were armed with magic pistols that never needed to be reloaded. If they caught you, they’d kill you or feed you to the fish. They had Clavvish savages with them who would do unspeakable things. The captain’s name was whispered fearfully. He had ears everywhere, it was said. Sako Pizi was the worst one ever, even worse than Baz Anford.

  Taken from Port Buxaca,

  sequel to Buxan Spicerunner

  Chapter 1

  Rumtown

  The most wanted ship on the Buxacan Sea cruised into Rumtown’s harbor at sunset. There were only two brigs in port, both with their flags displayed. One was a winged skull on black, the other was a black cat on red.

  Sako ordered the Spicerunner to be tied at the longest open dock.

  A shabby old sailor accosted the men securing the lines. “Here now! This is Spiderhead’s dock. You can’t tie up here!”

  “Don’t tell me,” said Naffen. “I’m not the captain.”

  Sako leaned over the rail and tossed something at the old man. There was the briefest glint of gold before a gnarled hand snatched it from the air.

  “Spiderhead is not using the dock right now,” Sako said reasonably. “I’ll be gone before he comes in.”

  The old man goggled at the coin and closed his fist tightly on it. It was an Alarfaji tenka, worth twenty Tayan crowns. “Who are you?” he asked with wonder.

  “I’m Sako Pizi.”

  Most of the onlookers stepped back. Some thought it was a bad idea to annoy a member of Anford’s Brotherhoods, but others were resentful. Rumtowners weren’t good enough to go to Port Buxaca; what made this guy think he was welcome here?

  Those who were angry swallowed it. There were too many men on that ship, and enough guns to wipe out the town. Whatever he wanted to do was going to happen anyway. The people melted away.

  Sturo and Dason volunteered to find Count Baggich and went ashore in opposite directions. Dason began his search in the taverns. He had a nagging half-memory of a rumor that said the Count enjoyed eating, but the whole town smelled like an open cess-pit, and the stench seemed to cling to the kitchens as well.

  Sturo already knew where to look. By the time Dason found the strong stone house with liveried guards, Sturo was coming back out.

  “How’d you know where to look?”

  Sturo shrugged. “He’s a noble, or he was anyway. I just walked until I saw the guards.”

  “Hmm. What’d he say?”

  “Says he only deals with Spiderhead. So I told him there was a lot of spice involved, and he agreed to meet Sako tomorrow if he comes alone.”

  It was dinnertime on the Spicerunner when they returned. Gomeneg brought them plates as they informed Sako about Count Baggich’s terms. Dason accepted his with a grateful nod, but Sturo waved the chef away, grabbed the nearest bottle, and drained most of it in one swallow.

  “Who are you meeting?” Gomeneg asked.

  “Osi referred us to a factor here, an Agresian called Count Baggich.”

  Gomeneg went white. “He is not to be trusted, sir.”

  Sako was surprised. “What makes you say that, Gom?”

  Gomeneg noticed Sturo’s scowl, then answered, “My first job after I finished my schooling was in the Count’s kitchen—I know him for a scoundrel! On two occasions I saw him add something to a guest’s dish after I’d prepared it, and both times the guest became very ill. They were poisoned, I’m sure.”

  “All right, I won’t eat or drink anything at the meeting.”

  Dason had become interested in Sturo’s concerned expression, but the carpenter ignored him and finished off the rum. “We’ll discuss precautions after dinner, right Sako?”

  Sako recognized Dason’s tone, but not the reason for it. “After dinner,” he said. “This roast is excellent by the way, Gom.”

  “Kind of you to say so, sir, but I cannot take credit for it. My student has surpassed himself tonight.”

  “Big Lunch? Outstanding!” Dason turned to the fat man who stood nearby. “Don’t think for a moment you’re getting a bonus for it, though.”

  “Ha. See if I ever cook anything for you again!”

  “Good. Cause this is the worst slop I’ve had since we kicked Balgo out of the galley.”

  “Hey!” said Balgo.

  “Then you must be done,” said Big Lunch. “I’ll take your plate.” He swept the plate away before Dason could react.

  “This is really good, Big Lunch. Is there any left?”

  “As a matter of fact there is, Captain.” Big Lunch dropped Dason’s plate in front of Sako. Sako got a forkful before Dason snatched it away. The assistant cook reached for his plate again and Dason poked him with his fork.

  “Hey everyone. Big Lunch cooked dinner ton
ight! What do youse think?”

  “It’s disgusting!” the Crew shouted. “Can we have more?”

  Just before noon, Sako strode down the gangplank to visit Count Baggich. He wasn’t sure if he was prudent or paranoid, but he’d armed as if to take on an entire ship’s crew by himself. He carried his usual armament: longsword, boarding axe, Alarfaji pistol, dagger, and steel-backed bracers, but Dason thought that wasn’t enough. The first mate had supplied him with a fitted leather breastplate to wear under his shirt. Where Dason got such a thing or why he’d kept it was beyond Sako.

  Armor wasn’t the only thing he felt he had too much of. He also carried a half dozen throwing knives and had an extra pair of Alarfaji pistols jammed behind his belt with only the butts showing.

  Sako had understood that this Baggich was not trustworthy, but couldn’t see why Dason was going to such extremes. There were small groups of Smilers scattered all along his route, and Brog had settled in at an open air dive with a dozen other hands not twenty feet in front of Baggich’s door.

  A pair of sentries with pikes guarded the open door. “Are you Captain Pizi?”

  “Yes.” Sako stepped between them and entered a courtyard. There was another stout door guarded by a sergeant with a rapier. The sergeant opened the door without a word.

  The foyer was devoid of furniture, and was two stories high. There was a balcony over the only other door, which stood open. Inside, there were four guards with shortswords against the far wall, a table, and three chairs. Sako stopped on his side of the table and waited.

  Count Baggich waddled in from the other door with his secretary. The count would have been a handsome man, if he weren’t fatter than Big Lunch. He was dressed in that latest style of formalwear from Ariton. The two sat, and the secretary began to set up his writing utensils.

  The count gestured for Sako to sit as well. “I understand you have some spice to sell, Captain.”

  Sako nodded. “Cinnamon, mostly. But there’s also some nutmeg, some cloves and a bit of pepper.”

  The count looked satisfied. “I can make a fair profit from those.” His smile changed slightly. “There’s another matter that we must discuss, however.

  "Our meeting is worth thirty-seven thousand five hundred more flames than I would have expected from such a transaction.”

  Coin value conversions were second nature to Sako, thanks to a childhood spent in an inn with a busy taproom. Seventy-five hundred crowns…sixteen, five in old Agresian crowns…ten thousand kings in Jonos, which is five thousand queens for less weight…Sako tensed. Five thousand—

  “Lord Lozia would dearly love to see you.” At that, the four guards drew their swords and advanced on Sako.

  Sako sprang to his feet and flipped the table up with such violence that the secretary and his chair collapsed together. He had a throwing knife in one hand and a pistol in the other. There was motion in the hallway the count had used.

  Despite his corpulence, Baggich had avoided the table. “Alive! I want him alive! A thousand flames to the man whoAAIII!”

  Sako had flipped his knife into the count’s belly and backed toward the door. The count sank to the floor with blood pouring between his fingers. His bulk was blocking the hallway.

  Sako shot the two guards to his right and the first man who came through the hallway, and threw another knife at the man closest to his exit. The last slashed at him as he tried to back through into the foyer.

  Sako blocked with his forearm and took the impact on his bracer. Pain flared, but the steel prevented a broken arm. Sako shot this one in the face and backed into the foyer under the balcony.

  The guard’s body blocked the door open and Sako suddenly remembered the sergeant. He turned just in time for the man’s thrust, which tore his shirt but skidded off the leather. Sako stuck his pistol against the sergeant’s midsection and pulled the trigger.

  The weapon clicked uselessly, and the sergeant pushed him back. Sako narrowly avoided the next thrust for his neck, and smashed the guard with the pistol. There was a rush of footsteps overhead as he drew his sword. The sergeant tried to block with his rapier, but went down in a messy pile as Sako opened his belly.

  Sako hastily wiped his sword on his pant leg and re-sheathed it. There were men on the balcony, probably armed with muskets. He took a deep breath and drew the other two pistols, then ran to the near right corner. It would be the worst possible angle for the shooters above, unless one was wrong-handed.

  “There!”

  Sako turned and raised his pistols. There were four musketeers up there, leaning precariously to get their shot. Bullets flew in both directions, and Sako learned the hard way that bullets follow walls.

  Fire exploded in the side of his left knee and he went down. Two of the musketeers fell over the edge, right on top of the squad that had just come through the door.

  Sako didn’t wait for them to sort themselves and emptied both pistols into them from the floor. Using only his right leg, Sako slid his shoulders up the wall until he was on his feet.

  Five of Baggich’s men were still standing with bared blades, watching him uneasily. There was one more on the balcony, reloading his musket.

  Sako jammed his empty pistols into his belt and drew his sword, then cursed himself as the guards closed in. Valling genius! They didn’t know you were out of shots! Now he’d have to fight one on five, with his back to the wall and one leg to stand on.

  There was a clash of steel on steel outside, and several Smilers burst into the room. Dason fired two quick shots at the balcony and was rewarded by a reassuring thump when the musketeer dropped out of sight. Brog charged howling at the guards with a boarding axe in each hand.

  Two of them dropped their swords and they all retreated back into the house. Sako fainted and slid back to the floor.

  Brog got to Sako first, and Dason took charge. “You three guard the door. You four stay here. Aler, take everyone else and secure this building. Bring prisoners here.”

  “Sako’s gonna be okay,” said Brog. “He’s lost some blood, but I don’t think that’s broken.” He indicated Sako’s knee.

  Dason was relieved. “Two of youse carry him, the other two are guards. Take him back to the ship and send everyone you see in town up here. We’re gonna loot this place before we go.”

  The Smilers barely had their captain out the door when Ieskott and two others dragged the whimpering count into the courtyard. Sako’s knife had gone deep, but had only penetrated fat. Within minutes, their prisoner was joined by eight guards, ten servants and a boy. “All secure,” Aler said. “There aren’t any other doors.”

  “Every rat hole has a back door,” said Dason. The Count escaped from his home during the Revolution with enough money or gems to go into business here in Rumtown; surely he’d built a new bolthole in this residence. “Try the kitchen…there’s got to be a secret passage or tunnel somewhere.” Dason leaned threateningly over the count. “Well, my lord? Will you tell me now where your money and escape route are, or would you rather answer this big savage Clav?”

  Brog sat down on the ground in front of the count and began to drag the edges of his boarding axes together. It was an unnerving sound.

  Count Baggich was not impressed. “Vall you and your slave, pirate! I’ll see you all hanged for this.”

  Ieskott was more offended than Brog by the slave comment. He roughly grabbed Baggich by the hair. “You forget yourself, my lord,” he said sweetly. “You aren’t a noble anymore. The only men you command now are our prisoners.”

  “There’s only one man here in danger of hanging in the immediate future,” said Dason. “I believe the Revolutionary Council will pay a healthy bounty for an escaped count. Or, we could take you to the Ingos, where your title might mean something. It’s entirely up to you.”

  “As is the condition in which you arrive,” said Brog. He locked eyes with the count and scraped his blades together again. Ieskott let go of Baggich’s hair, but the fat man said nothing.
r />   Dason almost smiled as he turned to Brog. “Doesn’t your tribe eat human tongues?”

  “Sometimes.” Brog stopped scraping his axes. “I prefer eyes, myself.”

  “I ate a sheep’s eye once,” said Naffen. “Didn’t care for the texture.”

  “They’re best raw, then the juice doesn’t dry out.” Brog smacked his lips. “But I think the Count would like to lose some weight. I bet I could carve off most of his fat and still not kill him.”

  “You might leave a scar or two,” said Dason.

  Ieskott seized the count’s hair again. “WHERE’S YOUR MONEY, FAT MAN?”

  Baggich flinched and whimpered as his wound reopened, but remained silent.

  Dason had had enough. “Ieskott, take the boy and the other prisoners back into the house. Brog and I are going to explain a few things to the Count. No one should witness what’s about to happen.”

  The cool, matter of fact tone that Dason used frightened the count more than anything that had happened so far.

  It wasn't long before he talked.

  The Smilers cheered when Brog stepped on the designated paver to open the hidden door built into one side of the passage. Inside was a small chest with one handle and a canvas bag with a shoulder strap such as a secretary might carry. The box held twenty gemstones of various size and quality and twelve hundred flames. The bag contained sight drafts on several banks, allowing the bearer to withdraw a total of ten thousand Agresian crowns.

  They collected all of the former nobleman’s furniture, artwork and other belongings and carted it back to the ship. Dason decided to keep the count, but left the boy and his servants and soldiers behind.

  The Smilers cast off and put out to sea as quietly as they’d arrived.