by Julia Knight
She stood again, lightning-quick, her eyes hurt and wary, watching every move on his face, every twitch of his body as though she were imprinting them, to remember. A soft look, fleeting, gone almost as soon as it was there. “I never meant to come in. I meant only to watch, to see what they’re about, to ready the twist. And there you were, blundering into something too big, too stupid even for you, and I couldn’t stand by and let them kill you. And they would.” She nudged one of the prone bodies with a boot. “They’d kill you eventually anyway. And despite everything, I don’t want you dead.”
Then she was in front of him, moving so quick he almost couldn’t see in the dark. Everything about her was as he remembered. The heat of her radiating into him, the soft yet sharp look, the shield she held around herself that he’d got past once, and then had made even stronger. The vulnerable twist of her lips, the part of her only he’d ever seen, the soft part of her she held to herself except when they were alone.
The smile was slow this time, not Joshing Josie now, but Josienne du Fael, the secret her to match her secret name. She stood on tiptoe, reached a hand behind his neck and pulled his face to hers. A kiss like he’d never known from her before—wanting, needing. Joshing Josie never needed anything from anyone, but Josienne…Josienne was the other side of her.
He leaned into it, into her, ran his hands down silk-clad arms to her hands and twined them together. Felt the need, the want, the hurt that he’d given her, that they’d given each other. The ache he wanted to kiss away.
“A chance, that’s all I want.” A chance to put things right with her. He’d blow the rest of his life off in a heartbeat for that.
She pulled away, yet not far. Their hands still twined, he still leached heat from her, still felt the press of her lips on his. She glanced at Holden, in a heap on the floor, and a flash of pain marred her face. To save Van Gast she’d duped Holden into thinking she loved him, and in duping him had fooled Van Gast, had made him so insane with jealousy he’d—he didn’t want to remember it, but he’d fucked things up with Josie, good and proper.
Blowing up her ship had been the least of it. He hadn’t trusted her. Worse, he had betrayed her trust, and that was one thing she couldn’t forgive.
“I wish I hadn’t…” She tore her gaze away from Holden’s face and stared at Van Gast with something that might be an apology in the cast of her eyes, the way she held herself. “It isn’t you I blame. Not you. It never was.”
She took a deep breath, as though steadying herself for some fearsome risk, some mortal danger. “Last chance, Van. Only chance. I couldn’t bear it if—only one chance.” The grin flashed back, lopsided and taunting, as always covering what she truly felt. Rob, kill or delight. Oh, he’d rob and kill anyone for that delight. “Estovan. A twist like you would not believe. I could use a man like you on this one, especially now Arden’s dead and I’ll have to work out how to get to his brother instead. You up to the job?”
“When aren’t I?”
Someone rattled the door and shouts echoed outside, making his trouble bone flare. Out of time, when time with her was what he craved.
As quick as she’d been with him, she was at the window. She slid back the hood and he caught a flicker of her white-blond hair in the lamplight, and the flicker of her eyes too. Hoping, wanting, hurt—and waiting for him to take the hurt away perhaps. “You want to know why, look in the next room if you get the chance. Oh, and Van, get some new clothes. Gray is really not your color. Come to Estovan, for the twist of our lives. Come and catch me if you dare.”
Then she was gone, and he was left with the warm memory of a kiss that shivered his bones, and a chance. Estovan, home of the Yelen. A dead Yelen at his feet. A challenge, and a dare. The sort of thing he lived for, and Josie knew it. Estovan, the stupidest, most dangerous place for him to be, because there was a price on his head there, because he’d stolen a diamond the worth of a town. He glanced down at the man who’d shot at him. The man she’d saved him from. Even worse after tonight and this dead body.
Stupid to go. But exciting too—there was a thrill at the thought. Guards, chases, scams to run, thefts to organize. People to outwit. Slippery Josie to pin down. Maybe it was time he was that Van Gast again. He found he was grinning so hard his face ached. Yes, oh yes. Time for fun with a capital F, and down-and-dirty Estovan was just the place. And Josie would be waiting for him. A chance, and he always had his eye on the chance.
One of the prone bodies groaned. Van Gast gave the man another thwack to put him out, emptied the pockets of all of them and got Holden in hand.
Holden was heavier than he looked. In the end, Van Gast got a shoulder under his, got him out of the room and locked the door behind. No point being stupid on purpose. By now Holden was blinking back to wakefulness.
“Van, what happened?”
“Tell you later. Come on.” He supported Holden for a step and then he spotted the door. Look next door, she’d said. A throwaway comment, but those were the ones he’d learned to listen to from the contrary Josie. “Hold up. Let’s take a look in here.”
Holden rubbed at a lump on his forehead and winced. “No, let’s not.”
“You’ve got no sense of adventure.”
Only, as Van Gast set his hand on the door, his little-magics, which had faded to a dull niggle, flared into life, an itch, a burn, a desperate need to run, and run now. For once he ignored them—Josie’s words meant more than that. She said little lightly.
The door was locked but that only mattered for a moment, because locks usually dissolved in Van Gast’s presence, at least once he took them to task. Every hair prickled as he turned the doorknob.
A small lamp lit the decrepit room and shone off something in the corner. A man—and not. He was naked, and if Van’s nose hadn’t been numb from the smell of the village, he’d probably have smelled this sooner. Holden surely would.
A withered stick of a man sat in a corner, his skin pallid and wrinkled with grime etched in the creases, his muscles thin and wasted. Yet there was something else about him—a shimmering skin over him, just now beginning to grow, magic crystals accreting over every inch of him, crusting him in new-made power. Not much as yet, thank Forn, thank Kyr, thank every god and goddess, but enough. A Remorian mage, and Van Gast had thought them all dead. Words rattled in Van Gast’s brain—I hear you’re collecting them.
That was bad enough, but something to ponder for another day. What really got Van Gast moving was the pistol shot that smashed through the door behind them, the bellowed order from one of the men Holden had let escape. “Van Gast! Kill him!”
Instinct and the prod of his little-magics propelled Van Gast, made him grab a groggy Holden and drag him through the second room, made him smash the window with the butt of his pistol before the pathetic, depleted mage had a chance to gather his limited power.
They ran, their prayer bells to Forn, god of the sea, jangling in harmony, sending a prayer with every chime. Laughing at the thrill of it along the path and off into the little cut-through that led up to the rocky headland. The fear/joy pumped thrill in his veins, made him know he was Van Gast again, the rack, the one the others all wanted to beat. Made him want to kiss the sky and swim the sea for reflected stars.
Not just that—it was the chance, and the knowing how stupid it was. The chance to catch Josie, to go to the most dangerous place on the western coast for him, to brave the Yelen council and their guards, to thieve and scam and burgle his little heart out, all mixed up together. The twist of their lives. Knowing that the men they’d left behind would report to the Yelen, that they’d be looking for him for this and other things. Knowing he could twist out of it, if he was lucky, and if he wasn’t he’d be dead.
Risk was how he knew he was alive, what made him laugh into the night, and suddenly he had all the risk he could handle. Risk was why he stood on the salt-blown deck, grinned up to the gods and thanked them for granting him the threat of death, for granting him a chance with Josie,
as Holden called the careful orders that would see them past the reef and out into the wide and capricious sea.
Chapter Two
Rillen stood before the Yelen council, his hands clasped behind his back to hide their white-tipped clenching. If only he could do something about the sweat on his brow.
“Report?” asked his father, Urgaut.
“We’ve contained the Remorians as best we can. Most are nothing more than gibbering wrecks. The rest—we’re rounding them up, but they’re like wild animals. We’ve some of them hemmed in down near Mucking Lane. The racketeers can deal with them.”
“So the Godsquare is safe finally? The docks? The traders?”
“Safe enough for now, at least the licensed docks and inside Estovan’s walls. The delta islands have too much shoreline to patrol, so I’ve concentrated the men on protecting the city.”
“Satisfactory, Rillen.” His father’s face belied the words, looking almost disappointed he had nothing to berate his son for.
Rillen let out a small, silent breath, but the respite was short-lived. One of the council’s guests spoke up. Rillen tried not to stare, but it was impossible.
Three Remorian mages sat atop the dais like small glittering mountains, hunched and monstrous. Their magic glowed on their skin, a shimmering geography of crystals with ridges for brow bones and dark valleys where their eyes peeked out. Of the three, two had large patches of blankness—pale, clammy skin where they’d lost their magic in the chaos of their country falling to pieces.
The death of their Master had left them and their slaves free of the mage-bonds that held their minds and wills, and made them prisoners to their mage masters. The sudden freedom after a lifetime of being told what to do, to see, to think had sent many of the slaves mad. That was Rillen’s task—to keep that madness outside the walls of the city of Estovan, where Remorian ships had been berthed when the bonds went and the madness took hold.
The stench of the mages, of Remorians, of stale magic, assaulted Rillen even from here, seemed to clog his nose and choke his throat. A voice floated away from them, a hoarse croak through lips that barely moved. “We promised the council that our subjects will be made sane and safe again, just as soon as you can contain them. In the meantime, there are other matters to discuss. A trade and an alliance.”
Alliance was prudent but made Rillen itch in his head. Remorian mages here, ready to mage-bond people, enslave them, bend them to their will and make them dead-eyed puppets.
“The Remorian Master is dead, the mage-bonds dissolved,” Urgaut said. “The Remorians you’re trying to control need those bonds back, need the limits on their minds, or we’ll be overrun by madmen and they will die. If we find and bring the Remorians to be re-bonded, hang those too far gone, and if we catch the man the Remorians want, then these gentlemen will abide to be our new mages, our new power. Plans are already underway to negotiate new trades, new deals. This is a chance to make Estovan even greater.”
A chance for his father to get Remorian mages behind him and under his control. A power like that wasn’t to be snubbed, though Rillen doubted they could be controlled, at least not by his father.
A chance too for Rillen to prove he wasn’t just the useless second son and also to do other things, perhaps. Things he’d long dreamed of in his sweating midnight bed. He clamped his lips shut on the smile that tried to twitch them. Oh, I hope, I dream, I plan. He should do as they wanted for now. Watch, wait, be patient. See what the tide brought. “I’ll do my best, sir.”
Urgaut smiled his toady little smile. “The bond isn’t a pleasant thing to us, but it is part of Remoria, part of this deal, understood? Besides, this is your chance to catch the man who’s been a knife in our back for too long. The man you’ll be hunting is Van Gast.”
Van Gast? The name made Rillen’s stomach churn in anticipation. The ultimate prize, the most notorious rack. The man who’d stolen a ship, a bride, a dowry, a diamond the size of his fist and then disappeared without a trace. Who’d shot Rillen’s brother in the back last week, killed Arden, a fact which still hadn’t quite sunk in. He wanted to be the man who caught the uncatchable, whose name would be forever known as the captain who bested Van Gast, out-twisted him. Even better, he wanted to have his own personal revenge on the man who’d shot his brother like a coward.
Yet how?
They didn’t even know what he looked like in any detail. Dark eyes, dark hair, the nut-brown skin of a mainlander, which described just about everyone in Estovan, even Rillen himself. He could rule out Remorians, with their copper-bronze skin and bond scars, their disjointed ravings, and the handful of big blond Gan bodyguards from far over the Western Sea. Other than that, Van Gast could be almost any man in the city.
“The man’s impossible to catch.”
The mage’s voice creaked out into the silence that followed. “Not impossible. The Master caught him.”
“But he’s dead, you say.” I see, all of a sudden. “And it was Van Gast that killed him. Brought us this madness. You want vengeance.”
The mage’s eyes, hiding in their glittery caves, bored into Rillen and made him shiver in the heat. “As do you, if I’m not mistaken.” The mage smiled, letting a flake of power break off by his mouth.
Rillen glared at him, but the sick coiling in his stomach kept his words in his head.
“He had help when he killed the Master,” the mage said. “From other racketeers, from one of our own, Commander Holden. And if you find him too, then we’ll be doubly pleased. The price on Van Gast’s head alone should help you to catch him. Any rack would sell his soul for ten thousand gold sharks. For that, someone will turn him in, we’re sure. Or you’ll catch him. Then I’m going to put his head on a spike down by the rack docks so everyone will know the price for interfering in Remorian business. Eventually, anyway.”
Rillen tamped down his sudden interest. “So how do we catch him? How do we even know where he is?”
Urgaut smiled, the predatory look of a water-raptor waiting for a drunk to fall into its jaws. “That’s simple. We know Van Gast’s ship, even if he’s re-rigged it, renamed it—the Lone Queen. It’s just sailing into the delta. Find it, find him and bring him to me. I’m not overly concerned at the state of his body when you do.”
Rillen knew a dismissal when he heard it, and took his leave, his mind working furiously. Van Gast. A prize worth working toward. A retribution for Arden and more besides. Van Gast was uncatchable, or so they said, and Rillen had long suspected it was true.
So, play it clever. Find the ship and also find someone to get aboard, someone who could act like a racketeer. Someone who would do anything for him if it meant the possibility of her uncle being freed from the dungeons.
He had just the young lady in mind.
* * *
Van Gast stood easy as the current under him changed. He closed his eyes and tasted the wind. “Into the delta wash now. Almost there.” His lips curved in a grin. Stupid, this risk, but by Kyr’s mercy, it was what he wanted, needed. A twist, she’d said, and wondering about it, what it was, who they’d be twisting, had kept him going.
Holden checked the rigging, the heading and the helmsman. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” He frowned at the first hints of the low sandy islands at the edge of the delta.
“No, but that’s never stopped me. It’ll be fun. Exciting. We’ll go in sneaky. I like sneaky.”
“Yes, but—”
“But bugger all. We’re going. I’ve been cooped up too long. I need to get off this ship and get some air. Steal something. Get drunk and have some fun.” Find what I’m looking for, the only reason I’m here. Josie. No need to worry Holden with that part.
Holden looked down at him, his eyes preoccupied, as though he were debating whether to say anything. Too damn serious, that was Holden’s trouble. At last he came out with, “It’s not just you who’s at risk, though, is it? You’re a wanted man in Estovan and so is everyone who goes with you. They’re my crew—”
“Whose?” Van Gast raised an eyebrow.
Holden scowled. “Fine, they’re your crew now. But they were my men for a long time, and you’re risking their lives on a whim.”
“It’s not a whim. Even if it was, you aren’t bond-slaves now, you’re racks, and you need to learn the rules.”
Holden didn’t appear to be swayed, his face set, arms crossed. “Which are?”
“I have no idea. No point knowing, really, when all I do is ignore them, and so should you now. All you had all your life was rules. Now you don’t have any! Look, it’ll be easy enough. Any crew who don’t want to be racks can go ashore, find a new life. I’ll even front them some money. I’m nice like that. But this is what I do. Risky is where the money is. Besides, it makes it more fun, and I’ve had precious little of that the last few weeks. It could be time for a party. Parties are good. Booze, women, you know. Fun. About time you learned that word, and Estovan is the place for that. I could teach you a hundred different meanings of the word fun here, at least. Oh yes.”
Van Gast rubbed his hands together at the thought. Down-and-dirty Estovan, full of every pleasure known to man, and some that might surprise even him.
“A party?” Holden look aghast. “Van, I absolutely—”
“Absolutely nothing. You’re going to have fun if it kills me. I’ll make a rack of you yet. Ah, Guld. What have you got for me?”
The ship’s true-mage stumbled to a stop on the deck, his mousy robes in a tangled mess and his eyes bleary.
“What?” Guld blushed as both Van Gast and Holden looked at him. “Oh, um, yes. Quite a bit actually, Van. Firstly, Estovan is in chaos. Looting, occasional riots, some of the delta shanty-town got burned down three days ago. Utter chaos. It’s, um, a bit of a mess to be honest.”
That brought Van Gast back to good humor, though it made Holden even more wary. “We should hold off, anchor here until it settles.”
“No, we should not!” Van Gast paced across the deck, Forn’s bells chiming, the prayer bells every sailor wore to fend off death by drowning at the hands of the merciless god of the sea. His grin was back after weeks lost at sea, his heart was alive with possibilities and the nearness of Estovan, of the thrill. Of Josie. It, she, was all he could think about. “Chaos is good. I don’t expect a Remorian to understand it, but any rack worth his salt is in there making good, hard cash, believe me. It’s a built-in distraction, see? Essence of any good twist. Distract the mark, come in sideways, go home with a pocketful of gold. Go on, Guld. Why the chaos?”