Sea Wolves (Wine of the Gods Book 21)

by Pam Uphoff

  Two detours and he found a road halfway out the northern arm of the island. He dodged a man on horseback, and paced the other foot traffic, most of whom knew each other, and traveled in groups.

  Gendo, according to Franki, was the southernmost inhabited island. Did the dregs or low class crew from the various islands contend with each other? Apparently. He could see that most of the men walking the road were mages, so perhaps the compasses here didn't get along with each other. One for every island? Just how busy had Oscar and Bran been? Tales of the battle had made it sound like the Westerners had come and gone quickly. He was in no position to minimize the potential for lots of offspring, but he looked at the number of people walking through the night and grinned. Two mages plus that wine. How many willing women can be found in a week at the most? Hundreds seemed unrealistic, but there were at least three hundred men gathering on the rocky shore.

  A bonfire halfway between waves and cliffs marked the meeting point.

  Eight cliques, by the way they were grouping themselves around the bonfire. Xen put a spell of vague familiarity over himself, and settled down between two groups to watch.

  A ninth group emerged suddenly, from out of the waves. Small boats beached and men swarmed into the place between the fire and the water. They'd been expected, the place left open. Xen could see the Admiral's insignia on the leader's coat as he walked to the bonfire. Fortyish, blonde hair cut short. He cast a long searching gaze around. Pure theatre, his night vision would have been ruined by the light, and most likely he had smoke stinging them as well.

  "This needs to be the last time we meet." He growled. "We risk too much, arguing among ourselves. We are the Sea Wolves, we seek the freedom of the seas, to throw off the shackles the powerless pretender to the Sea King's throne has cast upon us."

  "What shackles do you bear?" A challenger from the far side. "Admiral. You have the freedom of the seas, and we are of use to you only insofar as we serve your political ambitions. How do we know you will free us, as you take the throne? I have seen the Sea Hag, and she says you refused her. How can you lead us?"

  The Admiral gritted his teeth. "Do you challenge me? What do you bring to the table, Mag of Gendo."

  Shuffling and growling as the Admiral pointedly didn't put a ship name to the challenger. Careful, Admiral. Don't split your revolution.

  "I have known the Sea Hag." The challenger walked out of the light of the bonfire and stepped into the reach of the surf. "I cannot be drowned. I cannot be enslaved by man. No ship I am on will ever sink. Come try me, if you doubt me." A redhead, half the age of the admiral.

  The admiral growled and stripped off his jacket. "I'll take great pleasure in drowning you, you down-chain son of a whore."

  Got to watch those insults, Admiral. From your looks your mother went slumming one night when Oscar was in town.

  Xen's sight was blocked as the crowd stood and maneuvered to watch. Splashing was added to the blows and curses of the participants, the cheers and roars of the audience as the fight ranged up and down the shore.

  Silence fell suddenly. A last splash, some voices. Female? Male replies. Splashing and grunts. An uneasy cheer and the crowd retreated as if seeking the safety of the bonfire. What had happened? Both Admiral and challenger were on their feet, soaking wet. The Challenger retreated to his group and when the Admiral asked each 'pack' for support, he got it from all.

  The rebel group had an undisputed leader.

  Xen waited until everyone was gone, and walked down to see if he could decipher footprints. The stony rubble of the beach was uninformative.

  The woman's chuckle took him by surprise. "Do you seek the Sea Hag as well? Shall we have a four way contest to see who will be the King of the Sea? Can you command the waves, Storm Mage?"

  There were dolphins playing in the low surf, or were they women? One of them stood, and walked through the foam.

  "Did you throw over your Gendo Lover for the admiral?" Xen studied her. Human, magical. Witch or wizard?

  She gurgled, laughing, he thought. "We come when someone tries to drown one of ours. We have many lovers, but only some are in a position to command men. We shall see if he can carry out the promise." She waded out of the water, and in the dying glow of the bonfire he could see her clearly for a moment; sea hag, mermaid, siren, dolphin. He blinked. She was all at once, and whatever he was prepared to see. She reached out and stroked his cheek and he could see her genetics.

  "I've never heard of a witch with an affinity for water."

  "Foolish landbound man. Don't you know the tides are the realm of witches? The Moon and the Sun pull us, give us the power to live free in the sea. But we are all female, and we need men. We need men with power, and so we give favors. What do you want, man? To never drown, to never be on a ship that sinks? And you may ask for a third spell, if it is within our powers. Do you wish to always know where you are, as the Admiral asked? Or to never be enslaved by man, like the boy has wished?" She wound her arms around his neck and leaned her damp body against him.

  "Umm, those sorts of spells tend to have bad sides as well. Will the Admiral know how to get to where he wants to be, and how vulnerable is the boy to the other half of humanity?" Her back was smooth under his hands, the skin warming as it dried.

  She gurgled again. "Wise man, but still a man."

  Xen was very late and quite damp by the time he got back to the hotel.

  "And not even drunk!" Franki exclaimed.

  "Fear not, I won't even have to exaggerate to make this one into a lurid tale. You will love it." Xen assured him.

  Garit grinned poking the damp corduroy. "Was she pretty?"

  " . . . well . . . "

  Franki snickered. "It was dark on the beach. Oh, yes this tale I'll be looking forward to."

  Xen described the admiral, and suggested they keep an eye open for him. "Discreetly. I'd hate to finger the wrong guy. I think he's head of a future coup, supported by part of the navy, the lowest crew and the dregs. They called themselves the Sea Wolves."

  Garit nodded. "I talked, off the record, to various people all night long. They refuse to believe the riff-raff could have Island hulls. Certainly not a man-of-war. With the Sea King so old, all these other people are running the government, and they're quite certain political backstabbing is all they need worry about."

  "Don't you hate it when you can see Karma coming?" Xen said.

  Franki looked at him in surprise. "Philosophy? Dear me, next you'll say you believe in magic."

  "It's going to take magic to save the Sea King. No sign his new wife is pregnant yet?"

  "Nope. That nice healthy widow with two kids to show for her fertility has been as big a bust as the young pretty one they tried three years ago." Franki shrugged. "They're whispering about another annulment, but what that will get them is anyone's guess. Right now the Sea King's apparently throwing his weight around, so they're circling further out and ready to close in when this energy burst wears off. If not an annulment, I'd guess the older of the two step daughters will be married to the top contender—and I haven't the least doubt they can argue and politic until she's of marriageable age."

  The next two nights the dockside bars were nearly empty. Quiet and peaceful. The few people he recognized talked of ordinary things, and in the background, a thread of expectant waiting. How many rebels had returned home to other islands?

  He managed a few conversations in bars occasionally frequented by sailors, learned the names of the ships that were in port or nearby, the names of their captains.

  But that was the limit of their findings. Xen shrugged, knowing that Janic would hold the pieces of the puzzle while collecting more. He might already have pieces with the Admiral's name on it.

  Their cruise home was also smooth and fast, and Xen eyed the dolphins that escorted them thoughtfully. Franki was indeed vastly entertained when he explained why.

  Garit laughed, and refused to believe him.

  His official report lacked the S
ea Hag, but he did clip a note to that effect to the report.

  Chapter Three

  Cove Islands

  Late Fall 1396

  "No, sir. I did not have relations with either prince." Lieutenant Kara Kitha managed to keep her voice mater of fact. Barely.

  Admiral Chris T'Sanjac eyed her with disapproval, but didn't interrupt her boss again.

  Colonel Met T'Enterp looked back down at her report. "So Prince Franki was his usual chatty self. Did you draw any conclusions about their relationship?"

  "Prince Garit seemed to be amused by his cousin, but there was respect not disdain there, a bit to my surprise. I did not detect any signs of sexual attraction between them, and Prince Franki is, after all, well known as a womanizer, despite his . . . idiosyncrasies of dress. Prince Garit found the ladies attractive, but was surprisingly wary. I suppose he'd been warned, given the heir confusion in Karista, to look but not touch."

  The admiral nodded. "Good thing Princess Carmen is underage. I suspect she'd have no trouble hooking him."

  The colonel looked skeptical. "She's only the king's stepdaughter."

  Only? Poor girl is going to be auctioned off to the most likely contender for the crown, unless her mother can finally give the king a son. Or even a daughter of the blood, so we can pretend we still have the magic. And she worries me. Fourteen year olds should not think so much and say so little. Damn the pirates who killed King Virgil, so long ago. We all pretend to disbelieve those old stories about the old Queen's disloyalty, but we also think King Milo bears only a faint resemblance to his putative father or the brother he was always at odds with.

  She turned her eyes back to the Colonel, but much of her attention remained focused on the admiral. The Boss warned me to not speak of my mission to Organtes, and especially to know nothing about any records stolen from the Organtes.

  So. One of our best admirals. One of the men sure to be in contention for the hand of our quiet step princess. A traitor.

  "When they spoke to men in the government or the navy, even casually, the subject of piracy always came up. I think the Kingdom is getting upset with the number of ships they are losing. They specifically spoke of an incident in the North 'Cific." She nodded politely to the admiral. "Which I'm sure you've heard of. Island hulls flying the Organtes flag."

  "Attacking a lightly armed Western Navy training ship. Indeed. Assuming they correctly identified the hulls. I suspect the Organtes are experimenting, trying to duplicate our designs. But so long as their internal bracing remains standard, no pretty work on the bowsprit will make them our equal."

  "Thank you, Lieutenant." The Colonel returned her salute, and she stepped out glad to be done, and this late, done for the day.

  None the less, rather than ducking out the side door, she walked the other way, and surveyed the Grand Hall. All peaceful. Various people, about a third in uniform, striding about. The Hall had thirty-two entrances, access to four staircases . . . only in the depths of night did it quiet down. Today the only group of note was three Officers of the Board chatting with twice as many other officers as they strolled across the room. From the angle of their travel, it looked like they were heading for the main staircase. Throne room, Admiralty offices or further up to the posh territory of the Board Room and the offices of the highest officers. Only the king could overrule the Officers of the Board.

  In an Island nation that owned half the shipping and trade on the seas, the navy occupied close to half the sprawling palace.

  This group was led by Grand Admiral T'Linc, stalling out and half surrounding him as he stopped to expound on some point. The voice that had carried over wind and wave and through battle was raspy with age, but still carrying. ". . . find and crush these Sea Wolves. This cannot be tolerated!"

  Nods in the groups as it got back in motion. Kara hoped he was just heading for his office, not the Throne Room.

  She turned the other way and walked out the grand entry. Cove City covered the last third of the slope down to the bay that gave city, island and nation their names. Perfectly round and deep, the crater of an extinct volcano, it was breached on the east side, open to the Cific Ocean.

  Down there, the merchant fleet dominated, wharves and warehouses lining three quarters of the cove. Then up the steep hill, offices, shops, and houses almost to the Palace doors. Agriculture happened on the outer slopes of the island, and on the other islands. Trade might be the lifeblood of the nation, but they were still self sufficient when it came to food.

  Kara strolled down the main street which wound down the slope at a gradient that wagons and carriages could manage. Most people walked, and there were plenty of public stairs that cut between the switchbacks.

  Most navy officers lived in the zone between the mansions close to the palace and the slums of the dock workers. Colonel T'Enterp had inherited a nice place, fairly high on the hill. Kara lived in one of several rooming houses for low level officers that the Navy owned.

  Most women in His Majesty's Navy were . . . not beautiful and dainty. They served on ships, but more often ashore. Kara had been viewed with suspicion at first, and was still considered to be sleeping her way to promotion. But three years of just being nice and quiet had earned her friends and general acceptance in the single women's housing. Just a single room . . .once sparsely furnished, the sheepskin the God of Spies had left behind made an opulent rug, here in the tropics . . . apart from the color. Her friends had laughed themselves breathless when they saw it. And laughed harder when she refused to say where it had come from.

  "Why purple?" She glanced toward the wardrobe where the folded oilcloth with its odd reflective properties lay beneath a very large sweater, in a dark ugly shade of purple. "I think I hallucinated the whole thing. My mother's silly stories about brave spies getting their sorry incompetent asses saved by their deity. I was just freezing, and my mind played tricks on me." She made her voice firm. But the lavender sheepskin remained. I'm going to be forced to decorate around it.

  She changed out of her uniform and hung the jacket carefully. The shirt was a bit damp with sweat and she added it to the basket . . . thought about it.

  I should pick up some gossip, if Admiral T'Sanjac is going to be involved in my work. Is he going to be involved? Why?

  She put on her lightest shift, and took the basket down to the laundry. Exchanged a cheerful greeting with the girl on duty there, then sought the shaded patio. Three other women were relaxing there. Samah waved a lazy hand.

  "Rumor has it that a cool breeze was felt for nearly five minutes, before it died with a whimper."

  "Must have been higher up the mountain than I was. And I had to be in full uniform, too. Who is this Admiral T'Sanjac. I mean, I know who he is, but why is he getting intel briefs?"

  One of the other women snorted. "He got a bit frosty with the King. Now he'll be the King's errand boy until he learns his place. Then they'll send him back out to sea."

  "Oh. I see. Guess he lost some polish out to sea. The shore duty is bad enough. Political flunky . . . heh. Explains his ill temper."

  Samah shrugged. "The court exposure will do him good. He'll wind up in the admiralty soon enough."

  Kara made a dubious hum. "He's the youngest admiral, isn't he? He's got plenty of time to lose and regain court manners before he gets permanently grounded."

  "Sounds like you don't like him?"

  "Oh . . . let's just say I hope he gets sent back to sea soon."

  Chapter Four

  Karista, Kingdom of the West

  Late Fall 1396

  "So, Lady Yellow." The Organtes' lieutenant was an incredibly arrogant child. Just tall enough to leer down her cleavage. "What is a woman like you doing at the Winter Ball?"

  Yellow chuckled. Stupid little ass. "Oh, I came to meet important men." She let her eyes say "like you." Oh what an ego. "You're very young for your rank, aren't you?"

  He smirked and told her all about how important his family was and how his own exploits at the mili
tary college had been nearly heroic. Organtes is less than a quarter of the old Auralian Empire, but they look to be just as much trouble, now that they've had twenty years to stabilize their territory.

  Yellow had convinced Sandy that however brilliant her designs, some people simply could not wear purple. The deep emerald green and black dress went spectacularly with her red hair. The cut went spectacularly with her figure. The over-all impression went spectacularly well with the aura of a witch who'd been sleeping alone for much too long and thought she should be spying, not making charms.

  Easterly had laughed at her desire to seduce information out of men, and challenged her to get info any Auralians or Cove Islanders had about each other. And she was going to, damn it.

  She diverted the twit away from college idiocy, and asked if he'd ever traveled. "I want to see the World! And I'm going to start with the Cove Islands."

  He snorted and got closer to her cleavage. "Better go soon, they're ripe for revolution."

  "Really?" A deep breath and he nearly drooled. "Now how did an Auralian hear about that."

  "Oh, let's step out onto the patio, I wouldn't want anyone to hear."

  The patio was too well lit, and he convinced her to walk in the garden, and sweet talked her into a little gazebo, and forced her to listen to everything he knew about the Cove Island Rebels.

  Yellow was highly entertained.

  "It was so easy." She smiled as she handed over her report. "I couldn't stop him from bragging about how they were using the rebels to get the ship plans and how, after the rebels and Cove Island Navy had seriously damaged each other, they were going to waltz in and scoop up the prize."

  Easterly boggled. "Mata Hari, I salute you, and hope you had fun."

  "Oh, he wasn't bad, but he just wouldn't shut up. Can I pick up a Cove Islander at the next big soirée?"

  Easterly looked at the report in his hands. "Certainly."