Smithe’s eyes boggled, practically popping out of his skull. “We ain’t pirated nothing in a long while, Cap’n. Crew need paying once we get back to Sev’relain, and the ship’s coffers ain’t exactly bursting.”
“With you in charge, I’m surprised they’re not dwindling.”
“You calling me a thief?” Smithe took a step forward, looking down at his captain. Keelin stood his ground.
“We’re all thieves, Smithe. Stealing shit is our trade, and there ain’t been a quartermaster who didn’t take a little extra for themselves.” It was a blatant lie, but if Smithe could be caught stealing from the ship and crew it would be all the excuse Keelin needed.
“We need to take a ship,” Smithe said.
Keelin sighed. “Were you unconscious during our escape from Ash? There are Five Kingdoms navy ships behind us, Smithe. Do you see our escort? There” – Keelin pointed over the port side of the ship – “The Black Death, and there” – he pointed over the starboard side – “the Fortune. Even if we did spot something to take, both those ships are faster and would get there first.”
“Then we should leave,” Smithe protested.
“No.” Keelin stared down his quartermaster. “Right now we should run for home and regroup, and that’s exactly what we are doing. We no longer have the liberty of operating out on our own. We all stick together or we all die alone. Is that clear?”
An ugly grin spread across Smithe’s face. “Aye, Cap’n. No pay it is. Again.” He turned and walked away, and Keelin realised that more than a few members of the crew were close by and had been listening in.
“Shit,” he muttered, turning back to face the sea just as a jelly leapt over the railing and landed with a splat at his feet, thin tendrils flopping about on the deck.
Keelin put his hands on the railing and stared out across the sparkling blue waters of the Pirate Isles. If he concentrated really hard he could even pretend The Black Death wasn’t sailing alongside him, obscuring his view and reminding him that Tanner Black was now working with them rather than trying to kill them.
“You heard all that?” Keelin said.
“Every word, more or less.”
Keelin looked down to see Aimi holding onto the railing with both hands, a sympathetic look on her face. She still had a rope tied to her waist, and Feather was still nearby, holding on to the other end, trying desperately not to garner his captain’s attention.
“Well, you’re not the only one. Everyone on the ship will have heard by tonight, and I’m sure Smithe will make it sound like I don’t want to pay the crew.”
“Actually, you did a pretty good job of that yourself, Cap’n.”
“Please call me Keelin.”
“Not on duty, Cap’n,” Aimi said with a grin. “Those are the rules. Your rules, if ya remember.”
Keelin nodded, and silently wished he’d never imposed rules upon their relationship, but somehow he didn’t think Aimi would be comfortable without them.
Reaching down, Keelin grabbed hold of Aimi’s hand and helped her up and over the railing. He didn’t let go of her hand.
“I could take you off duty,” he said with a smile.
“No doubt we’d have a lot of fun,” Aimi said. “But that would be along the lines of preferential treatment, which we also covered in your rules.”
Keelin released her hand and stepped aside, motioning to the jelly lying on the deck. “Back to work then, boy.” He finished the order with a slap on her arse and turned away before she could turn her glare on him.
Kebble Salt was standing at the bow, staring out into the blue. It was rare to see the man down from the nest, and even rarer to see him without the rifle that he was known to be so deadly with. Keelin approached quietly, leaning on the railing and waiting for the man to speak. He found himself waiting for some time.
“Do you see the mist on the horizon?” Kebble said eventually.
Keelin squinted, but saw nothing resembling a mist. In fact, it was a gloriously sunny day with plenty of wind and barely a cloud in the sky. Still, Kebble had proven his sight to be greater than that of most men. Of course, the sharpshooter also believed himself to be immortal, so Keelin had cause to question his sanity.
“I see nothing but clear skies and clearer waters,” Keelin said with false cheer.
“Perhaps it is just me,” Kebble said. “The mists herald the coming of Cold Fire, the wraith ship. It would not be the first time they have come for me.”
Keelin glanced sideways at him. “So, this immortality of yours…” It was a subject he’d always tried to stay away from, and Kebble seemed disinclined to share. “How did you come about it?”
Kebble let out a bitter laugh. “I am cursed, Captain Stillwater. A god whose powers deal with life as much as your goddess’ deals with water. A demon’s power is the power to change fate. The Dread Lords hold death in their sway. It seems any of those powers could make a man immortal.”
It was a vague answer at best. “What about Reowyn?” Keelin decided that if they were simply naming creatures of vast, unimaginable power, he might as well throw the bogeyman into the list.
Kebble’s mouth twitched into a smile. “You believe Reowyn to be a myth. A tale of a monster told to scare children. You should be glad you do not know the things I know.”
Keelin let out a ragged sigh. He was more than happy believing Reowyn to be nothing but a myth. “So what did you do to earn the curse?”
“I murdered an entire civilisation.”
Keelin opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it and shook his head. He was more certain than ever that Kebble was indeed a madman, but sane or no, he was also a very useful man to have around.
“And you still think I may be able to find some god to take pity on you and kill you?” he said.
“I hope so,” Kebble replied, still staring out at the ocean.
“Well, if you see any gods or ghost ships, let me know.” Keelin turned and started away.
“I see land,” Kebble said.
“Aye, that’ll be Cinto Cena. Looks like we’re home.” Keelin squinted, but he couldn’t make out the telltale line on the horizon that would indicate an island. “This is where the fun starts.”
Keelin knew that before long they would be standing back on the dry land of New Sev’relain, and not long after that Tanner Black and Drake would be arguing. Given Keelin’s history with both captains, he was more than sure he would be arguing too.
Chapter 9 - Fortune
Beck waited, watching Drake out of the corner of her eye while trying to seem uninterested. He was a mystery to her despite the amount of time they spent together, and every time she thought she’d unravelled a part of that mystery, two more questions sprang up to take its place. It was beyond maddening.
Drake’s resistance to her compulsion, her magic that forced the truth from people, was as enticing as it was irritating. Of course, it helped that the pirate captain was handsome, and even more so that he knew his stuff between the sheets. Beck had been with a number of men in her time – some Arbiters, some not – but rarely had they left her feeling satisfied afterwards. Drake was different, and the fact that he knew it was insufferable.
For months they’d been stuck together. An order from Inquisitor Vance had driven Beck to the Pirate Isles, an order to protect Captain Drake Morrass, for reasons unknown to her. Since then she’d learned that there was a Drurr matriarch after Drake, and she could only conclude that that was the reason for her orders.
The Drurr were malevolent and evil on a scale that the Inquisition could not allow. There were some few exceptions who were allowed to live in a peaceful community in the northern reaches of Acanthia, and then there was the Queen of Blades in the free city of Larkos. But most of the Drurr haunted the places where humanity, even the agents of the Inquisition, feared to tread.