Corsair botm-2

by Richard Baker

  Sarth blocked the cudgel of the man attacking him with a two-foot iron baton-actually his magical rod, disguised by his illusion magic. Then the tiefling bludgeoned his foe to the ground with a rain of blows to the head and shoulders. Meanwhile Hamil efficiently hamstrung the swordsman moving in to attack Sarth from the side, and kicked the man unconscious when he fell to the cobblestones. “Behind you!” he called to Geran.

  Geran turned and found the half-orc rushing in again despite the vicious clout he’d taken. But the fellow was unsteady on his legs, and the swordmage easily twisted aside from a clumsy thrust. This time Geran hammered the pommel of the cutlass to the nape of the half-orc’s neck as he stumbled past, and stretched him out senseless or dead on the street. He leaped over the half-orc to smash the flat of the cutlass against the skull of a brigand stabbing furiously at Sarth. The man crumpled to the ground; Sarth dealt him a heavy clout as he fell for good measure. The tiefling looked up at Geran and scowled. “My way is easier,” he muttered.

  “And louder,” Geran reminded him. He straightened up and looked around, just in time to see Hamil test the balance of the dagger in his hand and let fly at the last brigand, who had turned to flee. The blade turned over three times before the pommel cracked the fellow on the back of the head and knocked him to the cobblestones. Silence fell over the scene, and Geran realized all of the brigands were on the ground or in the river. Several bystanders stood nearby, including one tall, strongly built woman with a shaven head, who had her fingers wrapped around the hilt of her own sword.

  Hamil looked at the bald woman. “You want a part of this too?” he demanded.

  The woman let go ofher sword and held up her hand. She was no beauty; her shoulders were almost as broad as Geran’s own, and her face was square with blunt features. Geran could easily have mistaken her for a man, if not for the heroic expanse of her bosom and the fine point to her chin. “Not I, friend. I’m just an interested spectator,” she said. She looked down at the thugs on the ground and twisted her mouth into a hard smile. “Consider me impressed. You handled those wretches easily enough, although I can’t imagine why you saw fit to leave them alive.”

  “We’re new in town,” Geran answered warily. “I have no idea who these fellows belong to. It didn’t seem wise to kill them without knowing who might take offense.”

  “You’re a man of uncommon wisdom, then.” The woman nodded toward a ramshackle establishment on the other side of the river. “Those fellows work for Robidar. He’s the half-orc that runs the bar, festhall, and gaming hall over yonder. They’re in the habit of rolling drunks and stragglers. You’ll want to watch your backs if you stay here long. Sooner or later Robidar’s boys’ll want to even up the score.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” Hamil answered. “I’m in the habit of watching my back anyway.”

  “Indeed.” The woman hesitated, studying the three companions for a moment, then she spoke again. “By any chance, are you three looking for billets? I could use a few more sharp fellows who can fight like you can and have a good share of common sense too.”

  “What sort of billets?” Geran asked.

  “Deckhands on Moonshark. She’s the half galley tied up by the bridge, a good ship and swift. My name is Sorsil. I’m her first mate.”

  Geran glanced toward the shadowed outline of Sorsil’s ship to hide his quick grin. It seemed that fortune had smiled on him. To conceal his interest, he rubbed at his jaw as if in thought. “As I said, we’re new in town. We intended to weigh a few opportunities before making any decisions.”

  Sorsil gave a short laugh. “You won’t find many better opportunities, no matter how long you stay moored here. We sail under the Black Moon’s flag, my friends. Things are going well for us these days. A deckhand’s share’ll make a wealthy man of you after three prizes-maybe just one or two if they’re rich. And for men of ability, there’s even more to be had.”

  Geran made a show of thinking over Sorsil’s offer, while he considered his next step. He’d hoped to catch a rumor of the Black Moon by visiting Zhentil Keep, but it seemed he’d caught a pirate ship. Now that he’d confirmed that the Black Moon Brotherhood had more than one ship at their command, he found himself wondering how many more vessels belonged to the pirate flotilla and where they might be found. He had the woman he wanted to talk to right here in front of him. The question was how to engage her without making Sorsil suspicious.

  Tell her we’re interested in signing on, Hamil said silently. It can’t hurt to see what more she’ll tell us.

  “That’s an interesting offer,” Geran said slowly. “But, truth be told, we’d sort of hoped to sign on with Kraken Queen.”

  The bald mate looked at him oddly. “Really? Why?”

  Hamil glanced up at him. You put your foot in it now. Why indeed, Geran?

  Geran affected a small shrug, thinking furiously. “I haven’t heard of Moonshark before. But I know Kraken Queen took a Sokol cog just a couple of tendays ago, and it wasn’t her first.”

  Sorsil shrugged. “Well, you’ll have a long wait if you hope to catch Kraken Queen in port. But she’s a Black Moon ship also, and we see her from time to time. If you can convince the captain to let you cross-deck, you might get your wish. Moonshark’s your best bet for now.”

  “All right, then. I guess we’re in,” Geran said. “When do we sail, and where are we bound?”

  “Good!” the mate said. “We’re sailing tomorrow morning. As far as where we’re going, that’s the captain’s business for now and none of yours until we’re at sea. Come on with me, and I’ll introduce you to him.”

  Sorsil indicated the shadowed quay with a wave of her well-muscled arm, and they set off toward the slender warship lying by the ruined bridge. Geran studied the ship as they approached. Moonshark was a half galley, built for sailing instead of rowing. She was smaller than Kraken Queen, a two-master instead of a three-master, but she looked like she’d be swift and handy under oars or sail. Geran decided that Seadrake would have a hard time catching her on the open sea unless she gained the weather gauge on the pirate. Sorsil led them up the narrow gangplank and gruffly acknowledged the greeting of the deckwatch-a pair of dispirited-looking men who evidently wished they were free to spend the night in the ruined port’s taverns. The mate went aft to a companionway beneath the quarterdeck and knocked. “Captain?” she called in a low voice. “New hands.”

  “What have you got there, Sorsil?” The voice was not quite human, wetter and more throaty, with a hint of a growl deep in the chest. A tall but curiously hunched figure appeared in the small companionway, ducking beneath the doorway as it stepped onto the main deck. The creature stood almost seven feet tall despite its posture, and as it moved into the lanternlight by the head of the gangplank, Geran saw that it was a gnoll-a savage beast-man with a hyena-like muzzle and a short coat of mangy yellow-gray fur. It wore a shirt of black mail and carried a curving scimitar at its belt.

  “Three hands as say they want to sign on, Captain Narsk,” the bald woman answered. “They handled a gang of Robidar’s lads well enough, and I thought you might want to meet them.”

  “Rrrobidar’s men aren’t worth a cup of warm piss. Still, we need the crew, don’t we, Sorsil?” the gnoll-Narsk, Geran reminded himself-said. The mate remained silent, and Narsk paced closer, looking over the three companions. The swordmage did his best to look surly, violent, and desperate without challenging the gnoll by holding his gaze too long. Narsk twisted his lips away from his fangs and then looked down at Hamil. “The other two might do, but I don’t need a little rrrat like this one on my ship. I need fighters.”

  Hamil planted his feet and looked up at the gnoll. “I’ll try any man on this ship-you included, Captain.”

  The gnoll scowled at that, but Sorsil spoke up. “He can fight, Captain. I watched him hamstring one man and kick him unconscious just as neat as you please and then knock out a second man with the pommel of a thrown dagger. He’s worth a share.”

&nbs
p; “Rrreally?” Narsk looked down at Hamil and smiled unpleasantly. “Well, we’ll find out soon enough. If he’s not as good as you think, the rrrest of the crew’ll kill him within three days, or my name’s not Narsk. Are you still willing to sign on with Moonshark, little one?”

  “I can look after myself.”

  “It’s your neck.” Narsk pointed one clawed finger at Hamil. “I won’t spare a word to save your worthless life if you are wrrrong.”

  “What are your terms, Captain?” Geran asked.

  “The crew divides half the value of any prize we take, one share each. The three of you make fifty-five hands. You can sleep wherever you find space, and you’ll be fed twice a day. There’s no other pay. I’ll keep your shares in the ship’s chest until you decide to leave, and then I’ll count you out if you want.” The gnoll grinned. “Better that way, less thieving and killing among the crew.”

  Hard terms, Hamil said to Geran. He doesn’t care whether his crew likes him much.

  They seemed more or less in line with what Geran would have expected of a pirate captain. “What are the rules of the Brotherhood?” he asked.

  “There aren’t many,” Narsk answered. “Sorsil can explain them. All you need to know is that you’d better do what I say-or what Sorsil says in my place-or you’ll be damned sorry you didn’t.”

  “I wouldn’t expect otherwise. All right, Captain, I’m willing. When do we sail?”

  “Tomorrow at sunrise,” Narsk said. “You’ll be pulling oars with the rrrest of the crew.”

  “Then if we’re sailing tomorrow morning, I’ve a mind to say my farewells to the ladies of the port before we cast off,” Hamil said. He winked at Geran and gave the gnoll a sly grin. “When do we have to be back on board?”

  For a moment Geran was afraid that Narsk was going to tell them that they were finished with their port call and had to remain aboard; after all, why give them a chance to change their minds? But a sly look stole over the gnoll’s face, and he bared his fangs in what Geran supposed was meant to be a friendly grin. “Go say your farewells, then.”

  Geran relaxed. He’d judged the gnoll well. Sailors with full purses were all too likely to jump ship at the first opportunity, but penniless sailors were more or less at the captain’s mercy. Narsk was all too happy to let his three new hands spend their last remaining coin ashore, since that would put them well and truly in his power when they straggled back aboard Moonshark. Chances were he had no intention of paying them at all, or at least not until it suited him to do so.

  “Back by sunup, or I’ll leave you,” the gnoll warned. Then he ducked back through the small door leading to the aft cabin, shutting it behind him.

  Sorsil looked over the three companions and shrugged. “Well, you heard the captain,” she said. “You can go back ashore, or I can show you where to sling your hammocks now. But I’ll warn you that the best spots are taken.”

  “The night’s still young,” Geran answered. “We’ll be back before dawn.” Then he trotted back down the gangplank, with Sarth and Hamil a few steps behind. He turned back toward the yellow lanterns marking the location of the taverns along the ruined quay and walked away from Moonshark without a backward glance.

  “Well, what now?” Sarth asked quietly.

  “I think that a bold opportunity is before us,” Hamil replied. “The question is: should we take it?”

  “Do you mean to attack Moonshark before she sails?” Sarth asked.

  Geran thought he knew what Hamil had in mind. “Not exactly. What do you think about becoming pirates for a while?”

  Sarth stopped in midstride and fixed his dark eyes on Geran. “It strikes me as pure madness,” he said. “Do you have any idea how hard it will be to keep our identities a secret in the close confines of a ship filled with enemies? You may be able to pass yourselves off as deckhands, but I know nothing about ships.”

  “I prefer to think of it as audacity, not madness,” Hamil said. “In any event, I have a hard time imagining a better way to spy out the plots of the pirate captains or to find out where the Black Moon ships are lairing.”

  Geran chewed on his tongue for a moment, thinking it over. He’d gone along with Sorsil’s offer simply because that seemed a plausible cover for approaching the pirates-nothing more than a ruse to ferret out some rumors of Hulburg’s enemies. A couple of miles away under the clouded Moonsea night, Seadrake waited. He and his companions could slip out of Zhentil Keep and bring the ship into position to catch Moonshark in the morning. But Moonshark wasn’t the prize he was after; he wanted Kraken Queen, and his intuition warned him that she might prove an elusive quarry. All he had to do was board Moonshark before dawn, and Narsk’s ship would take him exactly where he wanted to go. Once he spied out Kraken Queen’s lair, he could slip away to summon Seadrake and bag the Black Moon Brotherhood with a single efficient stroke. With his arcane magic-and Sarth’s-at their disposal, abandoning Narsk’s ship should be simple enough.

  “I don’t ask either of you to come with me,” he told Hamil and Sarth, “but I intend to sail with Moonshark in the morning. Seadrake’s in Kara’s command. I want her to take the ship back toward Hulburg and protect shipping as best she can until I return or send word.”

  “I’m with you,” Hamil said. The halfling looked up at him with a fierce grin. “You’ll need someone to watch your back.”

  Sarth sighed and looked up at the dark skies overhead. “I, too,” he said. “There is an excellent chance that you will have to fight your way off that ship. If so, my magic may be of some small use. But I am going to be a very inept deckhand.”

  “Hamil and I can help you with that,” Geran told him. “Besides, there’ll be plenty of men on that ship who know just as little as you do. Narsk needs fighters even more than he needs sailors.”

  “Very well,” Sarth said. He frowned unhappily. “I will trust your judgment.”

  “Good. That brings up two more things. First … Sarth, you have a spell of flying. Can you return to Seadrake, explain to Kara what we’re doing, and come back swiftly?”

  Sarth nodded. “Of course, but we should get out of sight before I take to the air.”

  “The place where we left the skiff should do. I don’t think many of the people here are in the habit of roaming the ruins at night.”

  “What else?” Hamil asked.

  Geran smiled. He knew it was a foolish thing, but it amused him nonetheless. “We’ll need to come up with good pirate names.”

  EIGHT

  30 Eleint, the Year of the Ageless One (1479 DR)

  Moonshark sailed at dawn, as Narsk had promised. Before the lower limb of the sun had cleared the horizon, the half galley hauled in her lines and sculled slowly eastward with the current of the Tesh. By daylight the taverns and dens huddled in the ruins of Zhentil Keep struck Geran as squalid and small. None of the people living there showed themselves as the pirate ship set sail.

  As he bent his back to one of the oars and pulled, Geran began to second-guess his strategy. The moment the ship got underway, Narsk and Sorsil dropped any pretense of civility. The burly first mate armed herself with a small cudgel and roamed the main deck freely employing the weapon against anyone who seemed to be shirking. Narsk prowled the quarterdeck, snarling savagely as he issued his orders. Worse yet, Geran’s new shipmates seemed a vicious lot. Most of the crewmen were humans from a wide variety of lands, but some were dwarves, some were half-orcs, some were goblins or kin to goblins, and there was even one ogre-a strapping, dimwitted creature called Kronn, who manned one of the ship’s oars by himself. They wore threadbare tunics, scraps of armor, tattered cloaks, and sodden hoods or misshapen hats. Geran caught more than a few studying him and his friends with calculating looks. Some grinned threateningly at him when he met their gaze. If there weren’t a dozen ready to slit his throat for a silver talent, he would have been astonished.

  “Pull, you sorry bastards!” Sorsil roared. “The captain doesn’t want to bob around in the river
all damned day! The sooner we cross the bar, the sooner we’ll raise sail! Now pull like you mean it!”

  The man sitting beside Geran at the oar bench chuckled to himself. He was a weatherbeaten old Shou, with a face like seamed leather and a topknot of gray-streaked black hair. “Every time we leave port, it is the same,” he said between strokes. “Pull harder! Pull faster! But do not worry, stranger. Narsk knows that the crew does not like to row, and he’ll take the oars in soon enough.”

  “You’ve sailed with Narsk a long time?” Geran asked.

  “I joined Moonshark three years ago. Zaroun was the captain then, and Moonshark hunted the Sea of Fallen Stars.” The Shou gave Geran a bitter smile. “Zaroun was a good captain, but he was not a good judge of men. Or gnolls. He signed on Narsk in Impiltur as we sailed west toward the Dragon Reach and within the month he was dead and Narsk was captain. That was a year ago now.”

  Geran looked up at the quarterdeck, where the gnoll paced. “Did Narsk challenge Zaroun or just murder him?”

  “Challenge, of course. That is the Black Moon way. But you should know, stranger, that a captain is within his rights to order a challenger killed. If the crew thinks the challenger is not fit to seize the ship, they’ll deal with him. No, one should be sure that the crew will stand aside before one challenges the captain.”