“May I inquire who asked me?”
That awkward phrasing killed deader than Vinas Solamnus any hope of concealing his unease. But a summons to Synsaga at this hour of the night usually meant something worth being uneasy about. Men had been known to disappear after such meetings, if they were lucky; if they were not, they left the camp chained in a slave gang.
“You may. I do not promise to answer.”
“Is it honorable work?”
“By the customs of our band, yes. Do you presume to put forward any other customs as binding you? That violates your oath, and you know the punishment for oath breaking.”
It was neither a quick death nor slavery, but beyond that there were many variations, depending on the offense, the offender, and Synsaga’s mood at the time he handed down the punishment. From the chief’s language, Ginfrayson decided to err on the side of caution.
“I make no such presumption. If it is honorable work by our customs, then it shall be done. But if it is honorable, my honor demands that it be done well. The more I know, the better my work.”
“You will learn soon enough.” The pirate chief leaned back in his chair. It creaked under his weight, which it had not done a year ago. Good living was taking its toll of Synsaga.
“Swear to silence, even in your prayers, and I will tell you,” the chief added.
Gerik swore a rolling oath on Synsaga’s belaying pin, the man’s favorite weapon. Then he waited.
“You will be working under Fustiar,” the chief said, after an uneasily long silence. “Do not ask how,” he added, “for I do not know myself.”
The unwisdom of asking about Fustiar’s right to keep secrets from his chief was evident. Gerik merely put his fist to his heart. “I will serve him as I have served you.”
“I am glad.” Synsaga seemed genuinely relieved. “I can tell you that your being Istarian, with knowledge of its great houses-that spoke in your favor.”
Gerik frowned. This threatened to become embarrassing, to say the least. “My mother served as nurse and attendant to Lady Eskaia of House Encuintras until her death. I never served the house myself. Their bounty to me was sending me into the fleet.”
Synsaga looked bemused. “Surely your mother must have spoken of her service in your presence?”
“Never.”
“You speak the truth?”
“I do. I will swear to it, and also that she took a potent oath of secrecy, perhaps strengthened by magic.”
Synsaga made a fly-shooing gesture, as if such details annoyed him. “Why did you not mention this before?”
“No one asked me. My oath was to answer all questions truthfully, not to tell everything I knew or thought with no regard for the honor of others or the needs of our band.”
“You have the soul of a counselor at law.”
“Are you sure that is so different from a pirate’s?” Gerik dared to ask.
Synsaga barked laughter. “Well spoken. But further questions may come your way, and they had best be answered fully and truthfully. Fustiar has been known to punish those who disappointed him without speaking to me first, or indeed at all.”
Gerik prayed for a quick end to this meeting. Synsaga was revealing much that had been suspected but little that the Istarian cared to know. Also, it would go badly if questions turned to his other kin.
Any secrets of House Encuintras his mother had learned, she had not only carried to her grave but they would be old and dusty tales by now. Haimya was another matter. In her position as guard-maid to Lady Eskaia, she might have become a treasure of knowledge to any enemy of the house. Pirates were wont to swoop down on such treasures, and Synsaga had ships in the gulf, a mage on the mountain, and doubtless sellswords in Istar itself for such work.
In time the meeting ended; Gerik strode out into rain that was now easing into mist. He was three steps from the door when a harsh scream sounded from high overhead. He looked upward, but clouds and night hid even the treetops, let alone what had made the sound.
Not that he really had much doubt. Fustiar’s pet dragon was abroad again-and within days he would be going up to serve, perhaps within a ship’s length of its lair.
It was not a thought that made for easy sleep that night.
* * * * *
The bulwarks amidships had been built up again to about waist height. Leaning against them, heads over the side, Pirvan and Grimsoar could whisper with little fear of being overheard. The maintop would have been even safer, but no easy explanation for climbing to it at this hour had occurred to either man.
“Do you remember a low-built, racy-looking ship with square-rigged foremast and a lateen-rigged main?” Grimsoar asked.
Pirvan mentally translated that from Sailor into Common. “Lateen-like our third-mizzen-mast?”
Grimsoar guffawed. “We’ll have you talking like a sailor yet.”
“The idea of this voyage lasting that long gives me no pleasure.”
Grimsoar seemed about to make another jest, then shrugged. “I’m thinking of going back to sea. Which is why I noticed that ship. She also had her sails striped in green, and a deckhouse amidships. I always thought it looked like a giant wooden chamberpot.”
Pirvan swore to push his fellow thief into something worse than a chamberpot if he went on talking in riddles.
“So?”
“That’s the bannership of Jemar the Fair.”
At least that name was no riddle. “Sea barbarian, who’s done some work for the brothers?”
“The same one. He also owes me a few favors, over the matter of his factor in Istar.”
Pirvan assembled clues and rummaged in his memory. “The one who was found floating in the ornamental pool outside the Temple of Shinare?”
“Nice to see that Haimya hasn’t entirely addled your wits, even if you’ve addled hers.”
“Brother, if you mention that lady again before you have finished with this matter, I shall swim to Jemar’s ship and bore a hole in her bottom with an augur. Then, when I am captured, I shall say that you did it.”
Grimsoar recoiled in mock horror, and nearly stumbled over a coil of rope. Pirvan laughed shortly. “Now, as you were saying …?”
“I was using the factor to receive some of the fruits of my night work,” Grimsoar said. “I discovered that he was cheating me. Trying to recover my work, I learned that he was cheating others. Jemar was among them. I passed the word, and Jemar carried the matter on from there.”
“To the point where the man was bobbing in the pool, his throat cut from ear to ear?”
“Not that badly. Jemar hires better knifemen than that. But otherwise, yes.”
“I see. So he owes you a debt, and might pay it by helping us?”
“Again, yes. If we provide the money, he will be able to go shoreside and buy everything we need to repair the ship without going in ourselves. No one will know who he’s buying for, so they won’t even charge him more than the lawful rate. Not that the lawful rate is cheap, mind you, but-”
“I see. What about our crew?”
“The captain may growl about dealing with sea barbarians. If he growls too loud, Lady Eskaia will growl back. If he doesn’t stop then, the mate of the top will be captain. I don’t think the old man wants that. This stands to be his last voyage, and he wants a few extra coins to take ashore when it’s done.”
Pirvan did not doubt his friend’s words. Grimsoar had an uncanny knack for picking up all the rumors wandering around a tavern, a marketplace, or a ship’s forecastle. Then he could sort them out into truth, or at least a useful approximation of it.
He wondered if that made Grimsoar’s remarks about Haimya more plausible. Then he decided not to encourage the big man to talk about that, no matter what!
* * * * *
Gerik Ginfrayson climbed the mountain to Fustiar’s tower the next night. He had not planned to go up by night, though he did not mind the darkness concealing him. More than a few of the pirates had doubts about the wisdom of dealing with a renegade mage.