The House of the Four Winds: Book One of One Dozen Daughters

by Mercedes Lackey

  “Oh,” she said inadequately.

  They were close enough to the pirates now for her to read the names painted on the bows of the ships as they passed: the one to port was the Vile Vixen and the one to starboard was the Horrid Hangman. The Vixen’s crew seemed to be mostly or entirely female; they hooted and shouted as Asesino glided by.

  “I don’t think our poor ship is properly named to keep this company,” Clarice said, trying to make a joke of it.

  “You’re wrong,” Dominick said quietly. “Her name means ‘murderer’ in the Iberian tongue. But it is bad luck to change a ship’s name, so she sails as she was named.”

  After that, Clarice could think of nothing more to say.

  The entrance to the harbor was bordered by two half-circles of black boulders half the height of a man. She didn’t need to look at Dominick’s expression to know this was hardly a natural formation. She could see two enormous rings bolted to the rocks at either side of the harbor, each with a chain attached that was as thick as her leg. The chains vanished into the water, but the hyperreality of them told Clarice that they were bespelled: they would probably go taut on command.

  Just as they entered the harbor, one of the ships behind them fired a single shot. The sound echoed across the water like a thunderclap, and a moment later an answering flash and boom came from somewhere far above the town.

  “I think it would be a very good idea if you were to display the medallion openly,” Dominick said, nodding back the way they’d come. The Vixen and the Hangman were coming about, sliding with predatory grace in Asesino’s wake. With shaking hands, Clarice did as she was bid, fumbling the heavy gold chain from beneath her shirt to hang exposed about her neck.

  “I wonder what Mr. Dobbs would say if he were here?” she said, pleased that her voice did not tremble at all.

  “Undoubtedly he would say he was the captain, and we must all be hanged at once. And for just such reason, I think it would be a very good idea, Clarence, if you stopped being a passenger. I do not think this is a port that welcomes random visitors. You must become my first mate. It is enough to explain why you carry the talisman and not I,” Dominick added. “I will tell Kayin privately as soon as I may.”

  “So long as you also tell him it is only a masquerade.” Another masquerade. “I know nothing about ships.”

  “I suggest you learn very quickly. If they discover the truth, it will not go well with any of us.” He turned away and began shouting orders to Kayin.

  * * *

  Though the situation was utterly terrifying, Asesino’s crew dropped anchor smoothly. Within the harbor, the air was utterly still.

  “Stay here,” Dominick said, heading for the main deck.

  “But—” Clarice said. The Vixen and the Hangman were both lowering jolly boats, and she had no doubt what their destination was. Dominick merely waved a hand as he vaulted down the steps.

  He is rallying the crew, she realized. Telling them what to expect, as far as we can imagine it.

  But her unreasonable pride in his coolheaded cleverness was overshadowed by an equally unreasonable anger. They were likely hours, if not mere minutes, from death, and she felt irrationally cheated. Cheated of a future, cheated of the chance to tell Dominick the truth, cheated of all the hours and days and minutes she could have spent at Dominick’s side …

  If this is love, it is the most inconvenient thing in the world!

  “They’ll be here in a few minutes,” Dickon said, his voice tight with fear.

  “Then we will welcome them with as much proper style as we can manage,” Clarice answered. “See? Even now Dominick is seeing to it.”

  Down on the deck, a section of the rail hinged like a gate was being swung back, and a rope ladder lowered over the side.

  Dickon smiled. “You are so calm about all this,” he said gratefully. “I’m sure … I’m sure all will go well.”

  “Of course it will,” Clarice said stoutly. I am as terrified as you are, Dickon. The only difference between us is that I have had years of training in never showing it—or anything else I do not mean to show. That discipline had made her masquerade not only possible, but easy. The thing she most feared was that she would never have the chance to learn if she could set it aside and simply be.

  “Ahoy, the Asesino!”

  The first of the jolly boats—the one rowed by an all-female crew—had reached them. Clarice moved over to the rail for a better look and Dickon followed her.

  The woman in the bow was dressed in men’s clothes, but unlike Clarice she had made no attempt to conceal her sex. Her hair was a mass of fiery-red curls pulled back into a tail that cascaded halfway down her back, and the style showed off to great advantage the enormous gold hoops—several of them—that pierced each ear. She wore a necklace of rough-cut emeralds about her neck, and beneath her coat of scarlet velvet she wore a short leather vest held closed with a row of gleaming buttons that Clarice suspected were gold coins. She had a cutlass belted at her hip, and a brace of holstered pistols balanced it on the other side. She looked up and caught Clarice’s gaze.

  “Hello, boy! Is your mother at home?” she called.

  “I’ll ask,” Clarice answered dryly. “Who shall I say is calling?”

  That made the woman laugh heartily. “Why, tell her that Melisande Watson, Queen of the Seas from Albion to the Hispalides, has come for tea!”

  The woman’s cocky self-assurance made Clarice smile. “I’m afraid my mother is away,” she called. “You will have to settle for my captain!”

  “I rarely settle for anything!” Captain Watson shouted back gaily, and then her boat was at the ladder, and she sprang up it with catlike agility.

  Clarice saw, with increasing gloom, that two of the other women in the boat followed her. One had skin as black as ebony wood, and the other, the flat, golden features of the Hispalideans. Both were dressed in the fashion of sailors, and both were excessively armed. Really, is there the least need to carry quite so many knives? Clarice thought waspishly. Only think what would happen if they fell overboard.

  She’d wondered if all fifteen of the boat’s company would be joining the Asesino’s crew on the deck, but apparently the others were just there to row, since as soon as the three women were safely aboard, the jolly boat moved smoothly away.

  The second boat approached quickly. Compared to Captain Watson’s flamboyance, the attire of the Hangman’s captain was decidedly sober. He might have been mistaken for the Reverend Dobbs’s sartorial soul mate—save for the hangman’s noose he wore about his neck, the knot trailing down his chest like a grisly fall of lace. His crew, if not as colorfully attired as Captain Watson’s, were equally well armed.

  “Topper Harrison, captain of the Horrid Hangman, requesting permission to come aboard, all shipshape and prayerbook fashion!” he called.

  At least we have now been properly introduced to the people who are going to kill us all, Clarice thought with dark humor.

  * * *

  “I’m surprised to see a new face here at the House of the Four Winds,” Captain Harrison was saying as Clarice approached. “I thought I knew everyone in our particular line of work. But I don’t know you.” For a man who wore a hangman’s noose as an article of dress, he seemed remarkably ordinary. Scary, but ordinary.

  “But perhaps you know this,” Clarice said, before Dominick could answer. She slipped the chain over her head and held the medallion up so both he and Captain Watson could see it. “Forgive us if we considered it an invitation.”

  “My first mate, Clarence Swann,” Dominick said.

  “Mr. Swann looks as if he has many sterling qualities,” Captain Watson purred, and despite herself Clarice found herself blushing. “Would it be too forward of me to ask where he came by that particular carte d’invitation?”

  “I took it off a man I killed,” Clarice answered with absolute truthfulness. So it is not just a guide to a location, but a passkey of sorts. And that means Samuel Sprunt was either v
ery wicked … or very stupid.

  “They disagreed about some matters to do with the running of the ship,” Dominick added innocently. “I do hope he wasn’t a friend of yours.”

  “I have no friends,” Captain Harrison said smoothly. “Well then. Enjoy your stay, gentlemen. The liberty of the House is yours. Drink—women—dice—whatever you fancy—”

  “—and have the gold to pay for,” Captain Watson finished with a cool smile. She turned and gestured to her two companions. The ebony-skinned one drew a small silver pipe from her pocket—a bosun’s call—and piped a warbling call. Out on the water, one of the jolly boats raised its oars in response, then began rowing toward the ship. Captain Watson’s departure was accomplished with as much speed as her arrival, and as soon as one jolly boat was away, the other began to approach.

  “A word of advice,” Captain Harrison said as he turned to follow his men down the ladder. “You’ll want to be careful here. This might not be the sort of place you’re used to.”

  “You might be surprised at what I’m used to,” Dominick answered coolly.

  Harrison bowed slightly. He swung over the side and began to climb down, then stopped. Clarice had no doubt the pause was calculated; being a pirate apparently required a theatrical disposition. “Oh. Just one more thing, you being new here. Sailing in, that’s easy enough. Sailing out … not as simple.” He tipped his hat and vanished down the ladder.

  In silence, the crew of Asesino watched the two boats return to their ships. “Well,” Clarice said, once the pirates were safely out of earshot. “Nobody shot us.”

  “Yet,” Dominick answered.

  * * *

  The senior officers—and Clarice, in her dual roles as “useful passenger” and “first mate”—were gathered around the table in the common room. Clarice’s thoughts were dark, tangled, and very, very personal.

  She must tell Dominick who she was—or more precisely, what she was. The longer she delayed, the more awkward it would be for both of them. But their arrival at the House of the Four Winds had complicated matters. It would have been easy to tell him—and to make sure no other overheard—on an unpopulated tropical island. But this crowded pirate haven was most definitely not the place for such a confession. Indeed, Clarice realized with a start, nobody at all had better discover the truth about her.

  “We must have the barrels,” Dominick repeated, running a hand through his hair. “If nothing else, those—and water to fill them. And we can get them here.”

  About half the Asesino’s cargo was still intact, and Sprunt had been carrying a young fortune in gold in his cabin strongbox. During the voyage here, they’d discussed the possibility of making for a known port to buy what they needed; both Dominick and Kayin thought there was sufficient gold to pay for new—and properly made—water barrels, but they’d meant to settle those matters once they’d reached safe haven.

  Only there was no safe haven.

  “And the crew will want liberty,” Dickon said. “Most of them heard what that hangman said, and those as haven’t will have heard tell by now.”

  “It will be impossible to keep them aboard,” Dr. Chapman pointed out. “Especially once we dock—or off-load cargo.”

  “Kayin? Geordie?” Dominick said. “We’ve said we’re pirates, and this is clearly a pirate haven. How much of the crew can you trust to keep to that story?”

  “Any of them—when sober” was the swift reply. “Pour a bottle of drink down their throats and they’ll give the game away to anyone who asks.”

  “Well … can’t you tell them not to drink?” Clarice asked.

  Everyone at the table stared at her. “As well tell them not to breathe,” Dickon said at last. “Everyone knows where a sailor will be at the end of a voyage. In the nearest tavern—or in a room above it.”

  Beyond that lay the unspoken truth: the crew had elected Dominick captain—and could depose him just as quickly if he gave enough unpopular orders.

  “So let us marshal what facts we have, and see if there are enough of them to weave us a cable tow that can extract us from these doldrums,” Dominick said.

  There was a moment’s pause.

  “Dr. Chapman,” Clarice said. “Didn’t you once tell me that Mr. Sprunt was a very lucky man to have survived so much misfortune? And you, Dominick—didn’t you say he’d been twice boarded by pirates?”

  “Yes.” Dominick frowned, thinking. “He lost his cargo each time, and some of his crew—kidnapped or killed—but he was let to go free.”

  “What if he wasn’t?” Clarice asked. “What if, on those voyages, he brought his cargo here—and sold it? And the other ships—”

  “Atlantis, too, was taken by pirates, but with a less fortunate outcome,” Dr. Chapman said. “Or so he said when he reached shore, claiming to have been set adrift in one of the jolly boats—but near enough to the islands that he reached shore. Sirocco and Aglaia were lost in storms—again, he and many of the crew escaped in boats and managed to make landfall. Gloriana and Albion burned to the waterline and sank near deserted stretches of the Hesperian coast; Sprunt and the other survivors built a signal fire and waited for rescue from the fort nearby.”

  “And in each of those cases, there was only Sprunt’s word for what had happened,” Clarice said. “And I will wager anything you like that the crew members who survived the ‘boardings’ of those ships were the same ones we set adrift. Who would doubt their story when they reached port to tell it? If Reverend Dobbs was with them, I’m sure he confirmed it.”

  “You think Samuel Sprunt was a pirate?” Dominick asked, as if this were the most unbelievable thing he had ever heard.

  “Why not?” Clarice answered. “He had the medallion. This is a pirate haven. Pirates steal ships and cargoes, and I suspect that is just what he did. Perhaps the ships that were boarded and released were those where he could not manage to induce the crew to mutiny. Or perhaps there was some other reason they were spared.”

  “But—see here, Clarence, that doesn’t make sense,” Dickon said. “If you’re right, why didn’t those two recognize our ship? Or the medallion?”

  “Ah, but Sprunt was a hired captain, who might be master of any ship—and he could hardly have written to tell them he was coming! As for the other, they did recognize the medallion,” Clarice said. “But I am sure there is more than one in existence, and they cannot know whose this once was, for I did not tell them the name of its former owner.”

  “Dobbs will, right enough,” Geordie said gloomily. “As soon as he’s within shouting distance.”

  “Which we will all take great care to make sure he is not,” Dominick said firmly. “Though I would not object overmuch if we could somehow manage to leave him behind here when we sail.”

  “Leave that to me,” Dr. Chapman said. “When you’re ready to sail, I can mix up a dose that will keep him asleep for a week. All you’ll need to do is get him ashore at the right time.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do,” Dominick said decisively. “As for Asesino, no one here will recognize the ship as having been Sprunt’s—if he has come here before, he has come on a different ship.”

  “So much to the good,” Dr. Chapman said. “And if only we could swear on the Bell and the Book that we had sunk a dozen or so helpless ships on our way here, we might be perfectly at ease. As it is, sooner or later the secret will get out that we’re—”

  “Honest, virtuous, law-abiding mutineers?” Clarice asked with feigned innocence.

  Her remark made everyone at the table shout with laughter.

  Even Dr. Chapman voiced an approving chuckle. “Quite so, my boy. Do you think that will be enough to save us?”

  “Well, it might.” The only thing she knew about pirates was that they were outlaws—and no laws meant no rules. They might do anything at all. “At least it couldn’t hurt.”

  “Then let us go ashore and see what we can do to make our ship ready for sail,” Dominick said firmly. “Clarence, I hope you will
accompany me?”

  “Of course,” Clarice answered instantly.

  * * *

  Kayin picked a crew, and soon enough Clarice and Dominick were being rowed across the lagoon in Asesino’s remaining jolly boat. Upon arrival, Kayin had the men drag the boat up onto the sand, and after drawing lots to see who would stay behind with the boat, the others headed for the nearest tavern.

  At least, Clarice told herself, Kayin was with them. Not that he would nursemaid them, but he could remind them they needed to be capable of rowing back to Asesino when she and Dominick had finished their exploration. For that was what this was in truth—a reconnaissance, to see what might be possible here.

  “Perilous as our greeting was,” Dominick said as they walked toward the street, “it was not nearly perilous enough. Any warlord of Khitai would have demanded bribes and probably killed a few people to make sure he was taken seriously. All they did was wish us a good day.”

  “They wanted to see the talisman,” Clarice reminded him. “I don’t think they’d have been nearly as accommodating if we didn’t have it.”

  “Yes,” Dominick said thoughtfully, “but they didn’t seem to care too much about where it had come from. I don’t think we’ve passed all their tests yet. Be on your guard.”

  “Always good advice.” And much easier to follow when I am not gawking like a tourist.

  But it was difficult to avoid in such an exotic location. While her reading had told her what to expect from the Hispalides, the reality was far more vibrant than she’d imagined. The air was filled with the scent of flowers, and the source of that scent twined over walls and even roofs in profligate display. The town was mostly made up of one- and two-story buildings of stone and limewashed brick facing hard-pounded-dirt streets along which goats and chickens—and the occasional pig—ambled with perfect ease. From the talk aboard the ship, Clarice had expected to be confronted by little more than a vista of taverns and brothels, but in fact there were barbers and surgeons, tailors, jewelers, and even a candy store.