Pirates & Privateers

by Jane Glatt

  He thrust up and she pushed back with her hips, leaning over him. Her hair trailed across his chest as her lips met his. Another thrust and another and then she tensed, clutching him, and he thrust one last time, stiffened, and held her tight as he shuddered into her.

  Dag relaxed onto him, their bodies slick with sweat where they touched. He cradled her head against his shoulder as his heart rate slowed. He kissed her forehead and blew out a contented breath. Dag feathered one hand across his chest then she propped her head up and met his gaze. A slow smile spread across her lips, and he felt his own smile in response. She reached up to kiss him—a long slow kiss. He was still in her, and she raised her eyebrows at his arousal. He shifted until he was on top, her legs wrapped around his waist.

  They lacked the urgency of the first time, but soon the gentle thrusts became stronger as the heat built up between them. Dag gasped, and he pushed into her one last time, straining at his release.

  He rolled off her and lay on his side staring at her profile in the dim light that edged in around the curtain. She turned her head, and he gently tucked her hair behind her ear.

  “I’m so glad we didn’t stop,” she said. He nodded—words were beyond him—and smiled, wondering if his Trait, his Luck, had anything to do with Dag being here in his arms, sharing her body and a bed with him.

  He tightened his grip on her and she sighed. He watched her eyes droop closed and then her breathing evened out as she fell asleep. Leaving him staring at her profile as the room darkened.

  Chapter 19

  THE STABLE DOOR rattled, and Joosep covered his eyes against the expected glare of a lamp. He was past caring who was coming in, just as he was past expecting anyone to bring him water.

  “Drink this.”

  He opened his eyes to see a clay mug held in front of him. It was shoved against his face and water spilled out onto his cheek. He grabbed the mug and sipped, careful not to drink it too fast, before squinting up at the woman.

  “Go on, drink it all,” she said. “Grand Freeholder says you need to be recovered, at least a little.”

  He took another sip. “Why?” he croaked. She didn’t answer, not that he expected her to. But the last thing he wanted was to be useful to Tarmo Holt. To his shame, he wasn’t strong enough to turn down the water.

  Once he’d emptied the mug, he was handed a piece of hard cheese. He chewed on it, wondering what the woman would do if he refused. Holt needed him for something, so he had some value, at least. It had been a day since he’d been asked about Arnor. Did that mean his assistant had been found?

  “On your feet,” the woman said.

  Joosep tried to stand up, but he was too weak so the woman grabbed his arm by the elbow and towed him out of the stable.

  His eyes watered at the onslaught of light, although once he could see, he realized that there were only three lamps on a small wooden desk. Tarmo Holt stood on the far side of the desk, a pistol in his hand.

  “Sit down,” Holt said. He waved the gun at a chair that sat in front of the desk. “And sign that note.”

  Joosep sat down. A piece of paper was laid out on the desktop, a quill and ink pot beside it. “What am I signing?”

  “A message to your Intelligencer,” Holt said. “In response to a note that was delivered this evening. The woman is waiting for a reply.” He leaned over the desk. “Since you’re so reticent about naming your Intelligencers, you’re going to tell this one to come back here so I can meet him or her myself.”

  Joosep scanned the note. It was for Calder. “All right,” he said. The minute Calder saw that this wasn’t Joosep’s handwriting he’d know that something was wrong. He picked up the quill and dipped it into the ink. Holt was allowing him the chance to send a message after all.

  “Wait!” Holt frowned. “Why are you agreeing to this so easily?”

  Joosep put the quill down and simply stared at the paper in front of him. Without reading the original note, he couldn’t be sure what Calder’s plans were.

  Holt paced in front of the desk, keeping the pistol pointed at Joosep. “He or she will know, won’t they?” he said. “Because you didn’t write the reply or because it should be in code?”

  He stared at the note, ignoring Holt. Why the explanation about Inger Lund not being trained as an Intelligencer? Had the note Calder sent contained a message from Dagrun? Were she and Calder working together?

  “Tell me!” Holt pounded the desk with one hand. “Why are you so willing to sign this?”

  The truth wouldn’t hurt him, he decided. “The note is not in my hand,” Joosep said. “So it will not be trusted. Even with my signature.”

  “Skit!” Holt grabbed the note from the desk and crumpled it up. “Paper!” he called, and the woman scurried out the door. A few moments later, she returned with a few sheets of paper. She presented them to Holt, who pulled one piece and slapped it down on the desk.

  “Write exactly what this said,” he said. He put the crumpled note on the desk.

  “All right,” Joosep said. He smoothed out the original note and started copying it, word for word. He smudged a couple of letters, then signed it, before sitting back to let the ink dry.

  Holt leaned forward and compared the old and new notes. He nodded. “Take him back,” he said to the woman. “And give him one cup of water each day.”

  Joosep stood up and meekly followed the woman back to his cell. Sitting in the dark, he smiled. He’d been able to get a message out to Calder—and Dagrun if they were together. He might not live—he’d been prepared for that—but at least now he knew he wouldn’t take this secret to the grave.

  DAG TRAILED A hand along Calder’s chest, heading under the covers. She touched him—he was already erect—and he sucked in a breath. It was morning, late morning, she guessed but they hadn’t actually slept much the night before.

  “When’s Solvig due back?” she asked, even though she knew their host wasn’t expected back until tomorrow midday at the earliest.

  “Why? Do you have plans?”

  “I certainly do.” She gripped him before swinging a leg over his hips. “But they don’t include Solvig.”

  “Are you going to tell me what your plans are?” He nuzzled her neck.

  “How about I show you?” Dag seated herself on him, slowly sinking down until he was embedded in her. She leaned down and kissed him, her tongue dancing with his. “How do you like my plans so far?” she whispered in his ear.

  “Brilliant,” he said. “Feel free to include me in any future plans.” Then he pushed up and she was lost to the passion.

  DAG LAY HALF across Calder, her head on his shoulder. Her stomach growled, and he laughed, causing her head to bob up and down.

  “We should eat,” Calder said. He kissed her and shifted around until he was sitting.

  “You know I can see right through you,” she said. “My Trait tells me that keeping me fed is all part of some secret strategy.” Reluctantly, she sat up—she didn’t want to leave the bed—didn’t want to deal with any problems the real world had in store.

  “Not so secret.” Calder stood up and started searching the small room. He tossed her shirt and trousers at her—she didn’t actually remember getting out of them last night—before he sat on the bed and pulled his own trousers on. She ran a hand down his back, enjoying the feel of his muscles under her hand.

  He leaned over and kissed her. “I need to keep your strength up for later.” He stood up. “I’ll check the stew. It might need more water.”

  She watched him leave—he hadn’t bothered with a shirt, and why should he, when she’d probably just take it off him soon enough.

  She was tired, but deliciously so. It took her a few minutes to dress and make her way to the living area. Calder was stirring the stew when she stepped up behind him and wrapped her arms around him. She pressed her cheek into the bare skin of his back.

  “Water is heating for tea,” he said, turning around. “And stew will be ready in an hour.�
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  “You are very domestic,” she said. If it had been up to her, they’d have been gnawing on salt fish until Solvig returned. She sighed and left him to sit in a chair.

  “I like to eat,” Calder said. “The best way to make sure I do is to know how to cook. And it comes in handy.” He sat down across from her and laid his hand on the table. She put her own in his, staring at the way their fingers—his dark and hers light—intermingled. “Nothing makes sailors appreciate you faster than making their meals taste better.”

  “Ah, so it’s not all Luck?”

  “No,” he replied. “Since I’ve never tried to force my Trait, I’ve always relied on other things. Although even then Luck sometimes intervenes.”

  “How so?” She’d always had times when she’d forced her Trait to work; so not doing so seemed alien.

  “The first time I cooked on a ship it was because the cook slipped and broke his arm,” he said. “Him falling? That was Luck. I volunteered to be his hands because I knew that it was a job no one else wanted to do. But then—Luck—I found a selection of spices that the cook had no idea how to use. It made me everyone’s favourite new sailor.” He grinned. “And allowed me to be trusted enough to get the information Joosep had asked for.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Sixteen. It was my second assignment.”

  “Sixteen!” She was shocked. She’d known Calder had arrived at the Hall young but that young? “You were six when you were recruited?”

  He sighed. “I told you about my twin.” She nodded. “Joosep heard about his death and my miraculous survival. He arrived a month or so later. I’ve asked him how he knew what my Trait was, but he never gave me a good answer.”

  “He wouldn’t be able to,” Dag said. “He knew because of his Trait. Can you describe how your Luck works?” He shook his head. “I don’t think any of us know how or why Traits work. Not even Joosep.”

  “Hmm.” Calder pulled his hand from hers, and for a moment she was worried that she’d offended him. But he simply made tea and brought it back to the table.

  “Joosep doesn’t talk about Traits to anyone,” Calder said. “And since we all work alone, none of us talk about our Traits amongst ourselves.”

  “Until us,” Dag said. “Inger and I talk, but it’s more about how to manage her Trait so she doesn’t get into trouble.” She groaned. “That came out wrong, but that’s probably how she sees it. All I want is for her to stay safe.” She ran a hand through her hair. She’d failed in that, because now Inger was with the pirates.

  “We’ll find her,” Calder said. He reached for her hand, but now his touch wasn’t comforting, and she pulled her hand away.

  The mood was broken, and no matter how much she told herself that she was allowed to have this time with Calder, that it didn’t affect the search for Inger, she felt guilty about it. Her sister was with dangerous people who had almost hanged her. How could she possibly have forgotten that?

  Calder sensed the change in her mood but didn’t press her on it, instead allowing her to drink her tea and eat her stew in silence. After that, she headed to the bedroom. Ignoring the evidence of the past night’s passion, she curled up and fell asleep.

  “DAG, WAKE UP.”

  Someone shook her shoulder—Inger? But no, Inger was still being held by the pirates.

  “Calder?” She sat up. It was dark but some light filtered in from the hallway, outlining Calder. “What’s wrong?”

  “Solvig’s back early. You need to come.”

  She slipped out of bed—she’d fallen asleep in her clothes—and padded out to the living area. Calder paced the small room—which frightened her—and Solvig sat at the table. Three lamps threw shadows on the walls.

  “Did you get a note from Joosep?”

  “Yes,” Calder said. He pointed at a piece of paper that sat on the table. “Something’s wrong, but I need you to confirm it.”

  “All right.” She sat at the table and pulled the paper over to her. “Where are you?” she read out loud. “Return to the Hall immediately. Have supplied coin. Bring DL with you.” She looked over at Calder. “You’re right, something’s wrong. This note was written by Joosep, but it doesn’t sound like him.”

  “Solvig never met with him,” Calder said. “And the coin he sent didn’t contain a Pilalian baisa. But that’s not everything. Solvig saw something else.”

  Dag dragged her eyes off the note—there was something there that she just couldn’t quite see.

  “Ghost ship,” Solvig said. “I saw a ghost ship and a ghost, so I thought.”

  “What ship?” Dag asked confused. “What ghost?”

  “It was the Diamanto,” Solvig said. “It was dark but I recognized it; that ship was built right here on Lavais.”

  “It’s the Bright Breeze,” Calder said. “Overhauled to look like the Diamanto. It has to be.”

  “And the ghost?” Dag asked even though her Trait already knew.”

  “It was you,” Solvig replied. “I saw your ghost on the Diamanto!”

  “Inger!” Dag said. “It has to be her. This was close? The ship was near here?”

  “It was sailing into the main Lavais harbour,” Solvig said. “In the middle of the night.”

  “We have to leave,” Calder said. “I think the pirates are taking the island. We have to leave right now.”

  “But Inger is here,” Dag said. “I don’t even have to go find her, she found me.” But the pirates wouldn’t welcome her, and they certainly wouldn’t welcome Calder.

  “Dag, come on, we need to leave.” Calder crouched beside her, and she heard the panic in his voice. “We might not have even an hour before they arrive. We can figure out where to go later, maybe even the Hall, like Joosep’s note said.”

  “No!” And then she realized what was troubling her about the note. “Not the Hall.” She pulled the note over. Yes, now she could see it. “Joosep sent a message. See where the ink has smudged? These letters? H, E, L, D, H, O, L, T. Held Holt. Tarmo Holt has Joosep. We can’t go to the Hall.” And just like that, she realized that she’d made her decision. Just as Inger had chosen the pirates over her twin, Dag was choosing Calder—and the Intelligencers—over hers.

  CALDER SHOVED THE boat away from the dock and hoisted the sail. It wasn’t the boat they’d arrived in—Solvig had always said they wouldn’t see that one again. This one was smaller and would be much slower. But it would hug the coastline in a way that the pirates—sailing a ghost ship that they wouldn’t want seen in daylight—wouldn’t be able to.

  Dag sat facing him, but she was looking past him, at Lavais, where her sister was.

  He’d thought he’d lost her just as soon as they’d found each other. When she’d shouted no, he’d been certain she was going to try to find Inger, that he would have to leave her behind. But then she’d shown him Joosep’s hidden message. And he’d been relieved that she was coming with him.

  But now they had two people to save: Joosep and Inger. Along with the Fair Seas Treaty Alliance.

  THE END

  Dag and Calder's adventures continue in 2019 with Traits and Traitors.

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  Acknowledgements

  Thanks to everyone at Tyche Books – especially my editor Karley Hauser and publisher Margaret Curelas.

  Biography

  Jane Glatt loves that along with creating original worlds, writing fantasy allows her to indulge her curiosity about an eclectic group of subjects. So far she’s researched synaesthesia, medieval guilds, tidal rivers, cities atop bridges, pirates and privateers, plants used for healing and the history of spying. For that last one she blames a visit to the International Spy Museum (yes it’s a real place), in Washington D.C.

  For news on Jane’s future releases visit her website http://janeglatt.com/index.html
and sign up for her newsletter.

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  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Acknowledgements

  Biography