The cave was located on the western side of the Isle of Fire, a stark landscape of steep, rocky cliffs scoured by ceaseless wind. The waters here are turbulent but deep; a ship can sail within inches of the cliffs if her captain is crazy enough to risk the swirling currents. The cave we aimed for wasn’t the only one along this coastline. The area was riddled with old lava tubes exposed by the churning sea.
Most of the caves hold nothing but bird nests; indeed, the sky above was full of feathered creatures in every hue of the rainbow, from tiny finches no larger than my thumb to albatrosses with wingspans longer than my bar tab. The pirate cave was right at sea level; the tides here can rise and fall twenty feet, and when the tide is low the opening of the cave is a long, narrow slash amid jagged stones, just wide enough to sail a good-sized schooner through. Within lies an underground lagoon nearly a mile across, ringed by a pebble beach polished smooth by the waves. It was a safe, sheltered haven, assuming the captain was skilled enough to thread the needle.
Fortunately, Infidel, Aurora, and Relic were in a small rowboat that could navigate the gap with ease, even with the rising tide. Infidel manned both oars, and her iron muscles were more than a match for the swirling currents. She aimed the boat for the gap and rowed confidently over the waves, shooting into the cavern swiftly enough to leave a wake. Gulls cried as they dove at the churned up water.
The last time I’d been here, the room had been full of torches and lanterns. Now, the shore was lined with bright glorystones, rare gems purported to be fragments of the sun itself. Glorystones were far more expensive than diamonds, and there were more in this cave than I could count. Reflected on the dark water of the lagoon, they looked like stars. We’d definitely arrived at a camp outfitted by a king.
As my eyes searched the shadows beyond the shore, I was surprised at how empty the cave looked. When we’d come here to fight pirates, the noise in this place had been deafening, as the voices of a hundred rowdy men echoed through the chamber. The air had been foul with the smoke of fires fueled by dried guano, not to mention the stink left from using the lagoon as a toilet. Today, the air was clean and cool; everything was quiet. Off in the distance I spotted a few modest canvas tents, shelter enough for a dozen men perhaps, if they were friendly.
The only boat was a single-mast skiff that I recognized as belonging to the Black Swan. No-Face was standing near the boat, his arms crossed, his feet planted wide, looking ready to smite anyone who came too close. Reeker was in the boat, stretched out on the folded sail, snoozing, using a backpack as a pillow. Menagerie sat beneath a glorystone lantern, reading a book. The faded letters on the leather-bound tome could barely be made out: The Vanished Kingdom, by Judicious Merchant. My grandfather had published his discoveries years before I was born. With it, I had retraced his steps on the island, or at least attempted to. Sadly, I found most of his directions convoluted and his cartography rather cryptic. Some of the most interesting places he claimed to have explored I’ve never found. I can’t say if he embellished his adventures, or was simply rotten at drawing maps.
Menagerie had beaten us here even though he’d remained behind the other Goons to assist Infidel with her disguise. He’d requested an eye-popping sum of money for his services as an artist; in what he claimed was pure coincidence, it was equal to the value of the dragon skull once my bar debt was paid. Infidel hadn’t haggled. Menagerie had sent the other Goons on their way, promising he’d catch up to them. What might take No-Face a full day to row Menagerie could cover in mere hours as an eagle. As for whether the tattooed man’s artistry had produced a passable disguise, I wasn’t the best judge. I’d spent enough time staring at Infidel’s face to know its subtle lines no matter what color it was dyed. And I still didn’t understand how any amount of coloring and cleavage was going to hide her identity from Father Ver.
Aurora jumped from the boat and helped pull it up onto the stony beach. Relic hobbled out, placing a hand on his back as if it pained him to have sat so many hours. I could hear his bones popping as he craned his neck from side to side.
As Infidel stepped out of the boat, No-Face rattled the chain around his arm, waking Reeker. Menagerie set down his book, and shouted, “Halt!”
“It’s okay, guys, they’re with me,” said Aurora.
Menagerie marched within inches of her and stared up into her tusked face. He shouted, “It is not okay! This is a secure area. What the hell are you doing bringing unauthorized personnel? What’s wrong with you?”
Aurora thrust her finger into Menagerie’s chest. “Back off. I have every right to be here, and these two are my guests. If you have a problem-”
Before she could finish her sentence, a voice beyond the Goons shouted, “Yes, we have a problem!”
Further up the rocky slope, a ghostly white figure strode swiftly toward us. This was Ivory Blade; I recognized him from his occasional visits to the Black Swan, though I’d never actually met him. Blade was the king’s top spy, though I wondered how good a spy he could have been since everyone knew it. On the other hand, Blade is a six-foot-three albino. He doesn’t exactly blend into the shadows. Hiding in plain sight might be the best strategy available. He was certainly an eye-catching figure, dressed in stark white leather armor. This was the famed Immaculate Attire, crafted for Alabaster Brightmoon, the Warrior Queen, nearly three centuries earlier. Since the armor fit him like a full body glove, I can only assume that Alabaster Brightmoon was rather tall for a woman, or else some enchantment allowed the armor to adapt to the form of its wearer. The leather truly did look immaculate, without a single scrape or scuff.
The fact that Blade’s armor was unmarred might have been evidence that his reputation as a master swordsman was deserved. I’ve heard he can draw his sword, kill a man, wipe the blade and return it to his scabbard more swiftly than the eye can follow. He certainly possessed an air of confidence as he marched up to Aurora.
“I’m reporting for duty,” Aurora said, addressing Ivory Blade over the heads of the Goons. “The Black Swan has provided the appropriate contracts.”
“For you,” Blade growled. “Who are these two?” His pink eyes narrowed as he stared at Relic and Infidel. “Or perhaps I should ask, what are these two?”
Relic bowed. He spoke in a raspy, trembling voice, “Long ago, I was called Urthric. Alas, the men for whom that name had meaning have long since passed away. Today, I am known only as Relic.”
“Relic showed up after the attack on Commonground,” said Aurora. “I wouldn’t ordinarily risk the safety of a mission with a last-second recruit, especially one I can’t vouch for. Still, I think his story is worth listening to. Hear him out; if you don’t think he’ll be useful, I’ll personally snap his neck.”
Blade sneered as he looked down at Relic. “What can this decrepit fool possibly have to offer us?”
I found it interesting that Blade’s attention was so fixed on Relic. Infidel was standing only inches behind the ragged man, not moving or making a sound, but she was hardly invisible. Given her garb, I expected at least a little gawking.
“I may be decrepit,” said Relic, “but I’m no fool. I’m the most important person you can hire for this mission.”
Blade smirked. “Truly?”
As Blade spoke, a woman stepped out from behind him; only, it wasn’t so much a woman as the absence of a woman. It was a bubble of air the shape of a naked female wielding a sword in each hand. No one else reacted as she silently tiptoed around the Goons, pausing to study Aurora, then moving to study Infidel up close. She placed her face only inches from Infidel’s eyes. Infidel didn’t even blink; the woman was apparently invisible to all but my ghostly gaze.