Beck had been able to glean some information about Drake and the Drurr from her time with him. He’d been a prisoner, a slave if the tattoos he wore were any indication, and for years he’d been held deep underground, tortured and likely worse at the hands of the Drurr – a matriarch no less. Beck had never heard of anyone escaping from the Drurr before, and that was yet another mystery she desperately wanted to solve.
New Sev’relain had grown again in the time they’d been away. New buildings, new ships, and new faces. Already the fledgling town had become a true settlement in its own right, and if it continued to expand it would soon match some of the smaller towns in Sarth for size. The Five Kingdoms’ attempt to purge the isles had failed to wipe out the pirates, but it had funnelled them into one place and united them under one flag. Drake’s flag.
Already Beck could see the evidence of industry. Smoke rose from the town, maybe from a bakery, maybe from a blacksmith – she didn’t know, but its mere existence was sign that New Sev’relain was on its way to becoming a living city.
Folk crowded the docks, waiting for the Fortune to secure its berth and its captain to depart. Beck spotted many of the people who had been elected as representatives for the townsfolk, those who weren’t pirates but were now living under Drake’s rule all the same. She saw Riverlanders too, dirty and dishevelled with their tattooed faces. She’d never seen so many of the vagrants before.
The Riverlanders tended to be secretive and violent towards outsiders. They mostly travelled the riverways in the densely packed jungles south of Sarth, living off the land and whatever they could trade with those they didn’t attack and eat.
Beck counted eight ships floating in the bay, and that was more than she’d ever seen in one place in the Pirate Isles. Judging by the whispered talk of the crew, it was as rare as Beck thought it to be. With the Fortune, The Phoenix, and The Black Death, that took the count up to eleven, and the docks looked crowded. As they approached, one of the ships at berth was towed away by dinghies, and the Fortune made for the free spot right away, leaving the other ships to wait in the bay.
“You coming?” Drake said as the Fortune came to a stop and its crew started to secure the lines.
Beck waited for a few moments, gazing out into New Sev’relain. “No,” she said eventually.
Drake stared at Beck for a while longer before snorting out a laugh and turning away. “Suit yourself, Arbiter.”
The pirate captain mounted the gangplank and swaggered down it, greeting those waiting for him at the bottom with open arms, a warm smile, and plenty of reassuring words. He glanced back towards Beck once, but she made certain she was looking elsewhere. Once Drake was off the docks and heading towards the town, Beck turned and walked towards his cabin.
“Can I help you, Arbiter?” Princess, Drake’s first mate, said just as she reached the door. He was loyal as a dog where his captain was concerned, and Beck was in no doubt that Drake would hear of her attempt to enter his cabin.
“Actually, yes, Princess, you can,” she said with a predatory smile. “I need to clean my pistols and I’ve run out of metal oil. You can fetch me some.”
“To the captain’s cabin?” Princess persisted.
“My cabin used to be yours,” Beck said. “Do you believe there’s enough room in there to perform the proper maintenance?”
Beck’s compulsion locked onto Princess’ will and forced the truth out of him. “No,” Princess said, and let out a shiver. It was unlikely he would have lied, but Beck found using her compulsion to dominate folk from time to time reminded them of their place. “I bloody wish you wouldn’t do that, Arbiter. I’ll fetch ya oil, just… don’t go magicking me any more, eh.”
As Princess hurried away, Beck put her hand to the door handle and twisted. The door didn’t budge. Drake rarely bothered locking it when he was aboard ship, but at times like this it didn’t surprise Beck that he had. She was starting to understand bits of Drake, and it was obvious his circle of trust was small.
Beck whispered two words into her hand and then placed that hand against the lock. There was an immediate click as the bolt slid back, and she tried the handle again. The door opened and she stepped inside. Of the three schools of magic employed by the Inquisition, she was most proficient with sorcery, using her potential to directly affect the world and, when need be, drawing upon the vast power of Volmar. Opening locked doors was little more than a trick, but she was capable of real magic when the need called.
The school of sorcery was the most diverse, with further sub-divisions in elemental magic, conjuration, and alteration. Beck had found an affinity for alteration very early on in her training and had specialised in it. It was the most literal form of sorcery, the ability to change the world around her, and its uses were near endless. Of course, there were the darker sub-divisions of sorcery such as necromancy, but the Inquisition did not teach, nor condone, practitioners of those evil arts, and the eradication of those that did was one of the organisation’s chief mandates.
Beck had encountered necromancers before, and their ability to breathe life into the dead was both horrifying and unforgivable. Necromancers’ powers were never stronger than when they were near the Land of the Dead, and Beck had seen first-hand what such heretics were capable of when they could draw upon the power of that cursed place. She shuddered at the memory and pushed it away. That they’d recently witnessed a Drurr ship carrying a necromancer worried Beck greatly. The Drurr had always abhorred the practice as much as the Inquisition did; it was, after all, responsible for the downfall of their once great civilisation.
It occurred to Beck that Princess might not be so easily fooled by her ruse. She took a pistol from her jerkin and laid it on a nearby cabinet before approaching the window and waiting. The first mate would appear with the oil and she would instruct him to place it next to the gun to secure her alibi. As soon as he was gone, she would contact the Inquisition.
Arbiter Darkheart may have recently freed the demons of the Void from their indenture, making long-distance communication harder, but there were still ways. They were limited and draining and required absolute concentration, but the Inquisition had come up with an alternative and Beck needed to talk to Inquisitor Vance. He needed to know everything that had happened so far, and she needed new orders.
“Reparations will be made,” Drake assured the skinny woman. “Store what’s left in the cellar for now and come by the Fortune tomorrow with a number. If it’s reasonable, I’ll see you’re paid for the inconvenience.”
Tanner laughed from the other side of the table, and Drake suppressed a shudder at the noise. His recent nemesis and now ally had been a second shadow from the moment he made land, following him around and participating in his discussions with the inhabitants of New Sev’relain. It was an annoyance, but one Drake could abide, as not only did it seem to be cementing their new-found alliance, but the people of New Sev’relain could see just what kind of man Tanner was and they were quickly learning how different life would be under the blackguard’s rule rather than his own.
“Still want to be king, mate?” Tanner said with a dark grin.
They were sitting either side of a table in the Righteous Indignation while a veritable celebration went on around them. Pirates from all the crews socialised together, and though there was a strained atmosphere in the air, the folk of New Sev’relain appeared to be accepting of those from Fango. Tanner was nursing a mug of ale like it was the last in the world, and Drake was already on his second and wishing it was his fourth.