All this might be thought bravado or foolishness since we had but seventy five men on all three ships. But I didn’t think the pirates would have many more — they don’t like to increase the number of shares of conquest any more than one of my contract traders does.
We had other advantages as well — our ships were almost new, with clean bottoms to give us speed and maneuverability, my men were determined to conquer and finally we had surprise on our side. Nothing shocks the ambusher, as Quatervals had known, more than being ambushed himself.
Our ship was hard on its lee as we closed on the mother ship, sails hard in the wind and watersmoke curling past our bows and now we could make out our opponent fair. I nearly laughed aloud, seeing that my opinion was confirmed. The sea rover’s ship was dirty, old, barely more than a hulk. It was large, probably once a merchantman, and did have three sails. It resembled a type of ship I’d seen often in Valaroi called a flute, although it was different enough so no one would think it’d ever been constructed in a familiar yard.
It would serve well to berth the small boats the pirates used to board a victim and carry them back to whatever dark port they sailed from, but little more. Again, I was unsurprised — thieves never spend time or money polishing their swords or making sure their clubs are sound. The only time a villain will carry a soldierly-kept weapon is when he’s stolen it from that poor private’s body.
Kele held her course full at the side of the pirate as if intending to ram. Now we were close enough to hear yelps of alarm, and slowly, laboriously, the ship began to come about. I could see but few men on the decks — of course most of them would be off with the raiders. At the last moment Kele put the helm over until we were sailing a nearly parallel but still closing course on the vessel. Kele’s chief mate Ceram shouted to the men aloft and we dropped sail and pulled level with the pirate. My sword was ready in my hand.
I looked at Janela and her blade was out, a tight grin without humor on her face.
Quatervals shouted and three men hurled grapnels over, prongs digging deep into the flute’s bulwarks and then they were pulling us together, whipping grapnel lines firm around bollards and Quatervals led the boarding party over the rails.
Janela and I were just behind and we fanned out on either side of the wedge Quatervals had his few soldiers formed into. Otavi bashed a man with the flat of his ax and he staggered into the long dagger Pip preferred and dropped, his guts coming away as he fell. I saw Chons, pulling his blade out of another corpse, then a man poked at me clumsily, not even a thrust, with a halberd and I brushed the blade away and cut him down as another man slashed with a cutlass.
I ducked neatly under it and spitted him.
“The bridge,” I shouted, “Take the bridge,” and we were running, only a few standing against us, and going up the companionway to the quarterdeck. There were two men and a woman there, the woman at the helm and one of them stood on guard, his blade weaving like the skilled swordsman he was.
“Beg quarter and you’ll live,” I bellowed and that made them hold for an instant, as I knew it would — coast guard ships or naval vessels never let captured pirates live and few of them even see trial before they’re dancing on the thinnest of air at the end of a yardarm.
The swordsman spat defiance and came at me but Janela was between us. Her blade flicked, shone in the now-noon sun, flicked once more, brushing his lunge aside and darted out like a serpent striking, deep into the muscle of the man’s arm. He shouted in pain and dropped his blade. Then he stood waiting for Janela’s deathblow. Instead:
“Beg quarter, you fool,” she snarled, holding, ready to cut him down if he made any motion other than the one he eventually did — holding out both hands, palms up.
Others on the decks saw him and there were shouts and the clatter of weapons falling and a chorus of voices crying “Quarter, quarter,” in a medley of languages and we had the pirate.
Ceram was at the flagstaff, pulling down the banner the pirates called a flag — it was black, of course, with a shark’s jaws in white and I had a moment to wonder who in the hells was still back on the Ibis, since everyone seemed to be in the boarding party and then I saw Glowworm and Firefly sailing toward us, hotly pursued by the pirate ships they’d refused to battle.
The discussion that would begin now might be most interesting.
* * * *
The pirate captain, a few years younger than myself, was completely unremarkable and would be taken as a struggling merchant ship officer in any port in the world, with one exception — he had a red scar circling his neck. His proper name was Lerma but one of his men said he was also known as “Half-Hanged,” since someone or other in his past had almost rid the seas of a rogue.
He was almost charming for a murderous thief. I had him, his mate and helmsman bound and left on the foredeck while we dealt with the others.
The pirates in the small boats hadn’t put up much of a struggle, particularly since we not only held the heights by being aboard ships with decks above their small boats, but also since we had the only vessels that stood a chance of weathering the next storm aboard.
I ordered them aboard the flute, which I was told went by the charming name of Searipper. I put them in the ship’s waist and lined the forecastle and quarterdeck with archers. I told them they were prisoners and since they’d surrendered would be shown quarter. But if any of them even breathed heavily my mercy, such as it was, would be withdrawn. I asked who their wizard was and one man told me he’d been killed when we boarded the ship.
I had my men go through the ship’s hold and below decks and bring up anything of value or any weapons. There was an amazing pile of death dealing merchandise but very little in the way of gold or jewels.
“Bein’ a pirate’s hard cess in these seas, eh,” Quatervals observed jovially to Half-hanged Lerma.
Lerma scowled but his mate, the duelist, a scarred murderer who called himself Feather, glowered and muttered the gods had been against them for nigh a year and this was just the final stroke.
“Ah then,” I said, seeing an opportunity, “since we happen to be well-blessed by the gods, your willingness to help us will no doubt put you back in their graces.”
Both of them gave me a look of utter disbelief. I shrugged — it’d been worthwhile to see if they happened to be superstitious. Even if they weren’t the planting of the idea would do little harm.
Now there was nothing below decks the pirates could use for weaponry to try to retake their ship, we herded them into the hold and nailed the hatchways firmly shut.
That left only Lerma, Feather and the helmswoman, who squatted nearby, dully waiting for whatever would happen to happen. She might have been decent-looking once, I thought her most likely to be the daughter of some fisherman kidnapped from her village and then promoted for her seafaring abilities and possibly other talents.
I had Feather and the woman sent to the cabins in the stern and kept separated.
While all this was going on Quatervals was busy. He’d found a small brazier and started a fire in it, adding coal as it built. Whistling merrily, he laid out a selection of implements found on deck — sail needles of various sizes, some metal splicing fids, a pike, a coil of rope, tongs, a cook’s cleaver and then, with Otavi’s help, lifted a grating and lashed it to the rail.
Janela and I had remained silent and Lerma’s eyes kept following Quatervals. The man wasn’t stupid and it didn’t take long for all those implements, the grating that Lerma himself no doubt used for floggings and the brazier to suggest something:
“You gave me quarter,” he said hoarsely.
“Quarter means your life,” I said casually. “It does not necessarily guarantee you life with a full complement of the usual accessories such as eyes, fingers or even legs.”
“Besides,” Janela said, “since when is it wrong to break your word to a murderer and a thief?”
Lerma looked deep into our eyes and I did my best to appear like someone who generally sp
ent dull afternoons at sea torturing pirates, evidently with some success, because he paled, the rope burn on his neck standing out even more vividly.
“Who are you?”
“Seekers of the truth,” I said. “Wanderers of the sea. Perhaps if you share some of your seafaring knowledge with us... most interesting benefits might come your way.”
“Such as,” Quatervals put in, “seeing the sun rise on the morrow.”
“What do you want to know?” The question was guarded. Lerma wasn’t quite broken.
“What lies east? What land? What’s it like? What are the landfalls? What are the people like? What about hostile cities? Is it civilized?”
“How’ll you know I’ll tell you... and if I do tell you, that it’ll be the truth?”
“Even without my friend there with the convincers,” I said, “all we need do, once we’ve finished with you, is put you in a nice quiet cabin and call your friends up here. If their answers differ from yours, well, we’ll be very disappointed. So disappointed, shall we say, that each lie will cost a finger, then a toe and then we’ll consider the possibilities when we’ve run out of digits.”
“Even if somehow you and your friend manage to connive at the same lie,” Janela put in, “I shall know. I am a wizard,” and she stretched out a hand toward Lerma, a gentle, caressing woman’s hand.
She ran her other hand over it and suddenly that woman’s hand became the green clawed talons of a demon. Lerma shrieked and tried to roll away. Then Janela’s hand was quite normal.
“Anything you want,” he stammered then. “I’ll not lie. I have charts, some charts anyway, in my cabin. I’ll show you. Anything you need, all you have to do is ask.”
I had Quatervals cut Lerma free and lift him to his feet. “There is no reason,” I said, “this discussion cannot be handled in a civilized manner. We’ll join you below.”
As Quatervals muscled Lerma to the companionway I had a question for Janela.
“How did you do that? The hand, I mean.”
Janela smiled, a very mysterious, very superior smile.
“Don’t you remember what your sister wrote? That all magic is smoke and mirrors and fumadiddle?”
I nodded. “Very well, then.” And we went after Quatervals.
* * * *
By dusk we’d drained Lerma as thoroughly as a sailor drains his last wine skin. He knew much, which I’d thought likely since any pirate who’s successful must know not the ocean deeps, but the shorelines and inlets where he can hide or lurk and the people he must either avoid or can prey on.
The far shore was peopled, of course. We first asked Lerma about great civilizations. There weren’t any that he knew of, at least none that could put out coast patrols as feared as those from Vacaan, which was one reason he preferred to keep his villainy here in the east. The people living along the coast were fishermen, farmers and some small traders. He’d heard stories of fabulous cities, like any traveler does, but none of the tales had borne out.
Janela nodded. This was as it should be, as her stories had promised.
Next we asked about old ruins, tales of cities stricken by the gods. Lerma said the land was full of these, of how man had once been next to the gods but had fallen mightily for his sins.
“I put no store in those stories,” he said, “because if you’re a god who’s going to punish you for sinnin’? Other gods? Not a virgin’s chance at an orgy, since they’d be too busy dippin’ their own wicks an’ carryin’ on an’ stabbin’ their own sets of enemies’ backs to worry about you. The gods is gods, men is men. What we is, is what we is and what we’ve allus been.”
We ignored his theological lesson and asked specifically about ruins. There were many of these, Lerma said.
“But I never paid ’em mind, since old stone don’t spend real well in a tavern. We landed in a couple lookin’ for treasure but found nothin’. They’d been looted out clean long afore any of us come squallin’ out of our wombs.”
A memory came and he hunched his shoulders, as if a chill wind had blown through the cabin.
“There was one different,” he said. “We’d heard stories about it an’ one time me an’ some other cap’ns thought the tales might bear fruit. We got close enough to see, but somethin’ turned us away.”
“What? You were attacked? You saw ghosts? Demons?”
“No. Nothin’ even that real. Not even dreams. Just I knew an’ all of us knew at the same time, that if we went ashore where that great river met the sea we’d leave our bones.”
“Where is it?” Janela was most excited.
“My Lady,” Lerma said, “We weren’t dreamin’ nor afeared. What we felt was true. I knew it then, I know it now. I don’t wish that on you.”
“I asked a question.”
Lerma stared at her, shrugged and went to the table where his charts were laid out. Charts were perhaps the wrong word since that implies they were accurate navigational tools. They were sketchy, imprecise, with long blank areas, scribbles, question marks and obvious inexactitudes. Lerma muttered for a moment then his finger stabbed.
“’Bout here. It don’t show on the map but there’s a river runs inland. Big river, damned near a day’s sail across its mouth. Ain’t that navigable, bar’s blocking most of its mouth an’ it’s bad silted up. But here on the north bank there’s a stone statue. Sticks straight up like it’d been a lighthouse or something. Man... or demon-built. It’s just at the end of a mole. That’s where we was gonna sail into and anchor and see what was what.
“Never even got within a mile though, ’fore we knew we didn’t belong here. We sailed on without even sending a boat ashore and looked for other places for our pleasurin’.” He shivered at the memory.
I was about to speak but Janela shook her head, and told Quatervals to take Lerma out. Before he was led away she took a bit of his hair, a smear of blood from a small wound and a dab of saliva.
When Lerma was beyond earshot Janela got out her own chart.
“Look. Here. Somewhere still north of where we are, see this?”
I read her small writing: Jayotosha tribe shaman reported dreams. Far shore. River. City. Cursed. Old Ones. Dread of what lies upriver. Something great, beyond good, beyond evil.
“A river, a city,” I said. “Not the heart of the Kingdom but a port, perhaps? Like Marinduque is the port for Irayas. Maybe the Old Ones liked to live upriver, away from the storms and sea raiders? Could that have been their style? When they came across to what we call Vacaan now, did they deliberately look for a navigable river to base themselves on?”
Janela shook her head. “I don’t know. But we have one piece of a puzzle that matches another piece of another puzzle very closely.”
“And the spell,” I said, “assuming Lerma’s telling the truth, would be something that could be left hanging over such a ruined city.”
“Perhaps. But if there is one it will hardly be worth concerning ourselves over. It’ll be easy to cast a counterspell so we won’t even notice such a warning.”
Janela paced the deck, barely able to contain her excitement. Then she burst out: “Do we have it, Lord Antero?”
I smiled — I’d been hard pressed to keep from letting out a whoop like I was fifty years younger and managed to maintain some degree of stuffiness. That broke and I too did a small dance on the deck.
“After due consideration I think we have it, Lady Greycloak.”
Our hands met over the small dot on the chart.
* * * *
By full dark, we sailed on, having taken measures to ensure our piratical friends would be harmless, at least for awhile. After questioning them we’d taken blood, hair, sputum samples from both Feather and the helmswoman. The woman knew nothing about this city, it had been before she joined them. Feather knew well and confirmed Lerma’ tale.
We assembled the three and showed them the samples. Janela said if the tales were false or if they’d forgotten to tell us of some hazard, before the demons took us down
she’d have more than enough time to cast a spell that would hunt the seas of the world for the three of them. They swore honesty, fidelity and truth, having to scrabble about in their minds for something to swear on that wouldn’t make us chortle in complete disbelief.
We let the pirates out of the hold and bade them watch what we were doing. We sank all of the raiding boats save three which might be needed for lifeboats if their hulk sank. All of the weapons were tossed overside except for four daggers. Those four Quatervals put point-first between deck planking and snapped off the points, so they were no longer weapons but sailors’ tools. All of the wine, all of the brandy went overboard.
A single set of sails was all I left, enough for them to return to whatever port they called home. There was a low moan when the pirates saw their tiny treasure transferred to our ships. I cared little for such gold, but I wanted these rogues humiliated and broken.
Finally we had each of them pass down a line of armed men. As with their leaders, a bit of hair and blood was taken from each and put in one of our empty windbags. A few of the corsairs tried to fight but they were quickly clubbed into submission.
That was all. We boarded our own ships. I stood at the rail of the Ibis and told the pirates they were in my thrall. I was true to my word and had not only granted them quarter but now their freedom. They were to go and find honest trades. If they did not... I waved the bag full of bloodstained tufts above my head. There were mutters and moans. I paid no heed but turned away and ordered Kele to set a course east-northeast.
We watched the Searipper until it was a dot on the horizon.
“Y’think,” Otavi said and I started, since the burly man seldom spoke unless asked a direct question, “all of ’em’ll take up work, or just some? Figurin’ you’ll hold true to your oath an’ spellbind ’em?”
Janela and I began laughing. She picked up the bag holding the pirate’s locks, and cast it overside.
Otavi watched it bob away in our wake, then he too grinned.
Kingdoms of the Night (The Far Kingdoms) Page 18