A new sound reached him—the sound of weapons clashing and cries of pain.
Sebastian did not wait any longer. He went to the next cabin and thrust the door open. Inside, seven sorry souls sat chained to the walls, much as he had been. They looked up, startled, and then began crying for help.
Back in the passage, Sebastian snatched up a discarded rigging block and brought it back to the room, intending to knock out the spikes holding these prisoners in. If enough of them were loose, perhaps most of them could make it to safety.
⇜⊂⊃⊂⊃⊂⊃⇝
“Princess, please, stay down!” Adam pleaded, pulling Aslynn back below the quarterdeck’s railing. “They have archers!”
“I have to see what’s happening!” she said, peering over the railing again. “I hate just sitting here.”
“Master Jabari only let you come along because you promised to stay clear,” Adam reminded her, though he was peering over the railing, too. “At the risk of losing his head when the king finds out. Besides, I would never forgive myself if you were harmed.”
Aslynn turned to smile at him briefly before returning her attention to the battle below. “I know,” she said.
Rounding the headland into Dark Waters Cove had been some kind of miracle. They had been sailing by sound, mostly, through thick fog that showed no sign of letting up, listening to the muted sounds of the waves rolling to the shore and the echoes from the row master’s measured drumbeats.
It had been tense clearing the Devil’s Jaw, which sounded vicious even with the fog-gentled tide. Then, the drum fell silent, the oarsmen watching the row master for the count in order to surprise their prey. The Star Trader was, by all accounts, just beyond.
As they rounded the headland the fog lifted, revealing the Star Trader just getting under way.
The slaver’s surprise was complete. The lightly armed naval cutter tried to evade, but the king’s warship Swift Justice—an experimental galley frigate combining the successful Dunkirker style with the centuries old Mediterranean style—came down on them like a dolphin on a shark. The row master’s orders were so precise, the oarsmen shipped the oars and took up grapples and swords just as the two ships delicately collided.
The battle engaged: the slavers desperate to escape; the well-trained sailors of the warship fighting, knowing Right was on their side.
And Aslynn and Adam watched from the quarterdeck, hoping to catch sight of Sebastian.
“I can’t stand it,” Aslynn said, standing up again. “I must help him.”
“Princess, no!” Adam snatched at her hand to bring her back down to safety, but caught only a handful of her skirt. Across the short distance to the slaver’s cutter, he saw an archer looking their way. Turning. Aiming.
Without thought, he leapt between Aslynn and the archer, bringing them both crashing to the deck, the arrow striking the mast above them.
“Adam!” Aslynn cried, trying to get up. “Let me up. I have to help.”
“You’ll get killed. Look!” He pointed at the arrow, still quivering in its mark. He heard her small gasp of surprise. “Please stay down, Aslynn.”
He heard her swallow, and her grip on his arm tightened as she nodded. Then, surprising him completely, she giggled. “You called me Aslynn!”
He felt himself blushing furiously. Despite the danger, he suddenly realized the suggestive position they were in.
“Forgive me,” he said, rolling off her.
“For what? Saving my life, again? I begin to rely on that.”
The volume of the shouting shot up, and they both turned to look through the railing to see what was happening.
“Sebastian!” Aslynn cried, as they watched their friend and several others rushing up from below, wielding chains and shackles as weapons.
⇜⊂⊃⊂⊃⊂⊃⇝
Sebastian brought his rigging block down like a hammer on the backs of a slaver’s knees, sending him crashing to the deck like felled timber. He snatched up the man’s knife. The thought of slashing the slaver’s throat or bashing his head in did cross his mind, but the man was writhing on the deck, clutching his legs, and Sebastian knew he couldn’t kill a helpless man. He turned to the next man running at him and raised his arms, rigging block in one hand, knife in the other.
After freeing the other prisoners, Sebastian had led them to the hatchway to try to determine what was happening. He immediately recognized Master Jabari’s voice shouting and saw his foster brother among the guards, fighting. Somehow, they had found the slaver. Rescue was at hand.
But rather than wait meekly for it, he led his little band of freed prisoners in a charge, attacking the slavers from behind. They had nothing but the shackles that had bound them as weapons, but their desire for freedom served them well.
For Sebastian, everything he had trained for came down to this fight. The end was simple: freedom. The means had been drilled into him by the man he called his father. And the cause, in this case, was black and white. Right against wrong.
Somewhere through the chaos, he thought he heard Aslynn call his name, and felt a moment’s panic that she was also a prisoner and he had failed to free her.
Smashing his opponent’s blade away with the block, he risked a quick look around and saw her aboard the king’s warship, with Adam at her side—it was all the time he could spare.
Knowing the princess was safe, he turned back to his opponent with resolve. It was like sparring in lessons, except the man across from him was determined to kill him, and Sebastian was just as determined not to die. He wasn’t used to these unconventional weapons, either, but he didn’t feel clumsy at all. Rather, he felt nothing but the fevered thrill of the fight, and that comforting presence he had felt when he was chained.
When the slaver’s guard dropped, he took the opportunity without hesitation, as though his blade was blunt and his opponent would merely bruise. But the man went down, clutching at Sebastian’s arm with a slightly puzzled and mostly surprised look on his face.
There was no time to celebrate or mourn his first kill, for the next slaver was stepping up to take his shipmate’s place.
⇜⊂⊃⊂⊃⊂⊃⇝
Master Jabari spotted Sebastian in time to see him make his first kill, and through his relief in seeing the boy was still alive, his heart felt saddened. Tradition dictated that his son was no longer a child who needed his care. For good or no, Sebastian was now a man.
There was little enough time for more than that fleeting thought; Jabari and his best fighters were closing on the captain of the Star Trader, and though the slavers were now outnumbered three to one, Jabari knew the captain would not give up without a fight.
Jabari had to admire the captain, pirate and slaver though he was. He did not cower behind his sailors, hiding from the fight. He was there in front, holding the bridge, bleeding from a dozen cuts, still shouting encouragement to his men, nothing but anger in his eyes when Jabari mounted the companionway to engage him.
The captain would be no easy foe. He had the high ground, an excellent sword, and desperation. This fight would be to the death; the captain would not be easily taken alive.
After an initial thrust and parry, Master Jabari lifted his sword in salute. “Captain,” he said with solemnity. “Swordmaster Jabari of Fair Haven, at your service.”
The captain saluted back. “Captain Rastafel of the Star Trader, Swordmaster. You are a worthy adversary, for a black slave.”
“Your ship is nearly taken,” Jabari said, ignoring the insult. As if to prove his point, the sounds of struggle on the main deck were diminishing. “Will you surrender?”
“When the tropics freeze, aye.” Captain Rastafel lunged at Jabari, who parried and countered, gaining the bridge while the captain recovered. They fought on even odds now, and Jabari’s men climbed up behind him, engaging the other slavers on the bridge.
Hearing the sound of sailors jumping overboard, Jabari said, “You can’t win. Even now, your crew deserts you.”
&
nbsp; “Hold the ship, you scurvy dogs! Hold her or die trying!” Still shouting, the captain made a huge overhead stroke, which Jabari caught against his blade, bringing it down into a lock, and they strained together.
The sound of war horns drifted across the water, and both men—swords still locked—looked to the cliffs above the strand to see dozens of horsemen riding down the trail to the beach.
“The king’s guard is here, Captain. Will you surrender?”
“Never!” With a mighty heave, the captain threw Jabari off, then ran at him, screaming a war cry.
It was a suicide tactic; charging with a wide-open guard gave Master Jabari an easy opportunity to plunge his sword directly into the captain’s black heart. But Jabari did not take it. Stepping aside at the last moment to let momentum take him down, the hilt of a sword on the back of the head made sure the slaver captain did not get up.
“Sorry, Captain,” Master Jabari said to the still figure. “You don’t get off that easily.”
Looking around, Master Jabari saw the bridge of the Star Trader was secure, and only small pockets of fighting continued on deck.
“Tie him up,” he said to the sailor closest to him. Then he turned. “Your captain is taken!” he shouted. “Surrender your weapons now and live. Continue to resist, and die!”
The response was immediate. Of the seven slavers not yet captured or killed, three dropped their swords or knives and raised their hands in surrender. The other four turned and dove off the ship. An archer ran to shoot at them, but Jabari called him off.
“Save your arrows. The guard will pick them up when they reach the beach.”
Even as he spoke, the first slavers who had abandoned ship were being run down on the beach by guardsmen on horseback.
Captain Rastafel moaned, and Master Jabari turned to make sure he was secure. Seeing the captain bound hand and foot, Jabari grabbed him by the collar.
“I have some questions for you.”
⇜⊂⊃⊂⊃⊂⊃⇝
Aslynn waited, barely, at the railing as Sebastian boarded the Swift Justice, but before she could reach him, Artemis thrust herself forward and stood up on her back legs to give Sebastian a wet greeting.
“Look who we found at port,” Adam said.
“I’m glad she’s all right,” he said, scratching under Artemis’ chin. “I had no idea what happened to her.”
“She has a good scratch on her shoulder there, and she was wet when she came up to us.”
“Must have been thrown off the docks—”
“Oh, you and that dog!” Aslynn said with mock disgust. “You’ve just escaped from a slave ship and you stand there discussing your dog. Down, girl.” The dog obeyed, and Aslynn grabbed Sebastian, giving him a fierce hug. “Thank Heaven you’re safe!” she said. “Are you hurt?”
“Nothing that won’t heal. Did you see?”
She sighed, but didn’t loosen her grip on him. “Yes.”
“See what?” Adam asked.
“I killed one of them.” Sebastian reached up and gently pulled Aslynn’s arms from around his neck. She stepped back, seeking his gaze. She could tell her friend was deeply troubled.
“Well, that’s great, isn’t it?” said Adam. “I mean, you’ve proven yourself. You’re a man now.”
“I suppose,” he said, accepting Aslynn’s hand. She led him to the foredeck where they would be out of the way as the ship got ready to sail. “I would have been happy to prove that by just drawing blood. A man is dead.”
“A slaving, black-hearted pirate is dead,” Adam corrected. “It was battle, ’Bastian. Kill or be killed. You know that.”
“He knows,” Aslynn whispered, placing a tender kiss on her friend’s cheek. “He knows.”
“I’d take it back if I could,” he whispered back.
Aslynn realized Sebastian mourned a loss of something inside him, not any dead slaver. Though she didn’t think he would call it the same thing, she thought he mourned the loss of his carefree childhood. Everything had changed on this day, and—an ominous thought—the day wasn’t over yet.
What else? she wondered.
“Look,” Adam said, pointing to the headland they were beginning to round. Up on the cliffs, ragged edges of fog wisping around him, a figure sat on horseback. Just behind him sat another rider, bearing the king’s standard. “Your father.”
Aslynn sighed. “I can tell he’s angry, even from here.”
Chapter Ten
The king waited in the Great Hall, only the drumming of his fingers on the arm of the chair betraying his impatience. He had delayed supper for this gathering, but some things, such as the tending of wounds, would not be put off, no matter how badly he wanted information.
He had seen with his own eyes that both Aslynn and Sebastian were safe, and young Wingfield as well. Heaven help them all. If the boy had taken worse hurt than he had, it would have come to hard feelings when his father found out. Duke Wingfield had sent his only son to Fair Haven for lessons in swordplay, not to put the boy in harm’s way.
What vexed him most was that he was the last to know what was going on. His first hint of trouble had been the stranger arriving, shouting that he knew the location of a slave ship. Slavers! He had arrived at the scene to find his own warship engaged with a slaver’s cutter. The stranger had tried to explain, but Isaiah had found it hard to concentrate on the man’s words once he heard his daughter was on the warship. Jabari would have some explaining to do about that.
Now, with everyone safe, he was ready for explanations.
The first to arrive was his wife, sweeping into the room with their children in tow just after the herald’s announcement.
Isaiah smiled at Edward, who was trying to look regal and important, but only managing excited curiosity. He realized he hadn’t seen very much of his son lately. The boy had grown so much. It was time the king took a greater interest in the training his heir was receiving. This audience was as good a place to start as any, and he was glad Tawnia had insisted the children attend.
Katrona entered behind her brother, looking serious as usual, but she had a smile for her father, which Isaiah returned.
Tawnia settled the children into chairs against the wall close to the head of the table, and then took her seat beside him. Her silence was unusual, and she looked a little pale.
“Are you all right, my love?” he asked, gently touching her arm.
“I am...unwell. That this could happen here....” She fell silent again, bowing her head slightly. Isaiah thought he knew what she meant. The idea of slavers in Fair Haven was not a pleasant one. There had been no confirmed sightings of a slave ship in fifteen years.
A few moments later the stranger, Meedo, arrived, escorted to his seat by two guardsmen, who then took up positions by the door.
“Your Majesty,” Meedo said, bowing before sitting down.
Thomas, the captain of the guardsmen entered next, followed by Lewis, the captain of the warship, the record keeper and his assistant, and the Minister of Justice.
The children—the princess and her two young men, Isaiah corrected himself—entered together, with Master Jabari behind them, urging them in. The king did not fail to note Aslynn and Adam had been holding hands as they entered the room. That was not an altogether displeasing turn of events, if it was serious.
Aslynn, on her best behavior, approached the head of the table with dainty steps and impeccable posture. She curtsied neatly, and then took her seat next to the queen. Sebastian and Adam bowed before taking seats across the table from her.
Master Jabari remained standing at the foot of the table.
“Your Majesty, an explanation is long overdue.”
“Indeed.”
“I will be brief. This morning, Mr. Meedo sent a note to Sebastian, for reasons which we will address later, asking him to come to see him on his boat—”
“But where did he come from, and why should he want to see Sebastian?” Isaiah asked, glancing from his swordmaster to t
he stranger.
“He was washed overboard during the last storm. Aslynn and Sebastian rescued him, Majesty. He summoned Sebastian because he wanted to repay his debt. With your permission, he will explain about that after you hear about the slavers.”
“Very well. Sebastian was summoned....”
“Yes, but he never arrived. When Aslynn came to me asking where Sebastian was, I realized he was overdue, and we went down to the docks to try to find him.” Master Jabari went on to explain about the attack on Aslynn and Adam, the captured slaver’s confession, and, with comments from the two captains, the rescue of Sebastian.
“The Minister of Justice and I have questioned the captain of the Star Trader, but he would not speak. He is in the dungeon, awaiting trial. However, one of the other prisoners did talk. You’ll find it interesting that the slavers were hired to take Sebastian.”
“Hired?”
“A woman paid handsomely, specifically requesting that Sebastian disappear. Unfortunately, she was disguised and the prisoner could not describe her.”
“Did he say where it was this woman approached him?”
Jabari shook his head. “No.”
“Somewhere close,” Meedo said. “And recently.”
Isaiah turned to look at the stranger. “And you know this because...?”
Jabari cleared his throat. “He was at the interrogation.”
“I am something of a Truthseeker, Your Majesty.”
“Seeking Truth from unspoken words?”
Meedo smiled, unruffled by the implied accusation. “No, Your Majesty, I cannot read minds. That would make me a witch. But I do possess some arcane knowledge. I read his tone of voice, his motions, his aura, and the echoes of his past.”
“Sounds like witchcraft to me.”
The stranger raised an eyebrow at her and paused before he spoke. “All of these signs surround each person, if one knows how to look. I do not seek to change what I find, only to know the Truth of it. As a Truthseeker knows Truth when she hears it,” he nodded toward Katrona, “so I see a personal Truth hovering around everyone.”
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