‘I can appreciate your desire for information, dear sir,’ he spoke curtly, ‘as much as I can appreciate your lack of tact and patience. Even so, I must insist that you accept the fact that I simply don’t know anything.’ His lips curled in an attempt to be coy. ‘I should beg your leave to sleep on it, perhaps with a visit from one of your more feminine passengers. It’s always been something of a dream of mine to learn what it’s like to sleep with a shict.’
Denaos had to stifle an admiring chuckle at that. He’d often wondered the same thing, hoping to compare it to his beddings with more civilised ladies. Never did try to talk Kat into it, though, he admitted to himself, likely because she’d gnaw my gents off. Content with that thought, he leaned against the far wall of the captain’s cabin-turned-interrogation room, taking comfort in the shadows.
It was all very dramatic, he had to admit: the fineries pushed aside or covered up, a single oil lamp hanging directly over the chair that the Cragsman was seated in. However, it was still Argaol’s chair, still far too comfortable for any prisoner to confess in. He had considered bringing this to the captain’s attention. Still, he reasoned, it would seem presumptuous to accuse the fellow of not knowing a business he clearly did not know.
With that, he simply plucked a dagger from his belt and began to trim the various stains out from under his nails.
‘Regardless, good sir,’ Rashodd said, ‘don’t feign interest in my well-being. I know you full-well plan to recoup your losses with the bounty my head will deliver.’
‘However meagre it might be,’ Argaol said with a sneer. ‘Your ship is damaged, Rashodd. We found scarcely anything of value aboard. Even the companion boat had been taken.’ He allowed himself a smirk. ‘It seems your men jumped ship, long before we could board. Small faith in your cause, had they?’
Not bad, Denaos noted. A cheap shot at a man’s esteem wasn’t always the best way to get someone to talk, but it might work in this case. Rashodd seemed like the kind of man who wouldn’t take kindly to being called small.
‘Sensible of them,’ the Cragsman conceded with a nod. ‘At the very least, they’ve saved me the hardship of paying for their funerary expenses.’ He turned a scrutinising eye upon Argaol. ‘You’re still a man in good standing with the guilds, yes? You do plan to extend that particular courtesy to the families of your slain men, don’t you, Captain? I’d offer to chip in, but as you said, not much aboard the Linkmaster worth taking, is there?’
The tall man bit back a wince at that. The captain will be groping his stones tonight, doubtless.
‘I will be, in fact,’ Argaol snarled, leaning in close to the prisoner. ‘I’ll pay for the funerals of those good men who were slain,’ he thrust a finger at the Cragsman as though it were a weapon, ‘by your monsters. Have you no shame, Rashodd? Summoning those. . those things to fight for you? Denying my men even the dignity of a death by their own race?’
Weak. Denaos shook his head. Rashodd’s response confirmed his judgement.
‘In all fairness, sir, you threw your monster,’ he caught a glimpse of Denaos in the doorway and coughed, ‘pardon, monsters at my men first. My. . associates simply had associates of their own. I can hardly be held responsible for their actions.’
‘And you still won’t tell me anything about them, even while they leave you here to die!’
Rashodd shrugged. ‘Friendships are a fickle and mischievous garden, requiring constant tending, with their own share of weeds.’
‘I. .’ Argaol flinched, his face screwing up. ‘What?’
‘I’d hardly expect you to understand, kind Captain. After all, most of your precious flowers are dead and trampled into the earth after today, aren’t they?’
It was over. Without fanfare or gloating, the verbal spar had ended. Argaol’s expression, wide-eyed, slack-jawed, hurt, lasted for only a moment before he turned around to hide the clench of his teeth upon his bottom lip. Rashodd watched him stalk away without contempt or smugness. All he could spare for Argaol was a yawn.
Denaos’s own stare lingered upon the pirate for a moment before he felt Argaol’s presence next to him. The captain leaned an arm against the wall, regarding the rogue with a tight-lipped, hard-eyed glower.
‘Well?’ he grunted.
‘What?’
‘Were you planning on doing anything besides lurking there?’
The tall man rubbed the edge of his blade against his chin contemplatively. ‘Well, I was planning on paying a visit later to that one spice merchant you’ve got chartered here. You know the one, right? Slim little dark-haired thing from Cier’Djaal. She called me a swine before, but I wager she’ll change her tune once she realises what I-’
‘Yeah, you’re adorable.’
‘That’s a word you’d use to describe something in pigtails and frills. I’m really more of a man possessed of immense gravitas.’ He offered the captain a broad smile fit for eating stool. Seeing no reaction, he sighed. ‘What is it you expect me to do, anyway?’
‘Get him to do what I’ve been trying to make him do all night,’ Argaol growled. ‘My boys are up there, terrified that some horror is going to return and do to them what it did to Mossud.’
‘Moscoff,’ Denaos corrected.
‘Mossud. I hired the damn boy.’ He sighed, rubbing his eyes. ‘What this Cragsfilth knows may be what I need to keep my boys safe, and he’s not talking.’
‘So throw him in the brig. Give him a few days without food or water and he’ll tell you.’
‘This is a merchantman, you twit. We don’t have a brig. In a few days, we could all be stacked in neat little heaps, ready to be eaten by whatever that thing was.’
‘Well, have you tried asking Gariath to help you? He’s not bad at this sort of thing.’
‘Your monster isn’t paying me any mind.’
‘Ah, ah.’ Denaos winced. ‘Keep your voice down. For a fellow with no ears, that reptile hears exceptionally well.’
‘Enough.’ Argaol’s voice became as hard as his eyes. He took a menacing step forwards. ‘I myself saw you gut two people like pigs on deck today, and we found more of your work down in the hold.’
The rogue shifted, appearing almost uncomfortable if not for the understated smile playing across his lips. It was impossible for Argaol not to notice the aversion of his eyes, however.
‘I managed to kill. . what, four? Compared to Kataria, Lenk and Gariath, that’s hardly-’
‘And your fellow adventurers all say you’re the man to talk to about things like this.’ Argaol adjusted his stare to meet the rogue’s eyes. ‘They say you’ve crawled out of more dark places than they’ve even heard of. Were they mistaken?’
Denaos’s grin faded, his face going blank. With the quietest of sounds, he slid his dagger back into its sheath. Eyes unblinking, he stared at the hilt.
‘They said that, did they?’ he whispered, voice barely louder than a kitten’s.
Argaol’s nod was hesitant, but firm. The rogue’s voice rang hollow in his ears, bereft of all previous bravado, bereft of any potential scorn. In his voice, as in his eyes and face, there was nothing.
‘I suppose they must be right, then.’
‘Good,’ the captain replied. ‘Be sure to get everything you can out of him. Question him more than once if you need to. Pirates lie. We need to know about that thing and every-’
‘Leave.’