“I’m looking for a particular pirate.”
“I’ve been known to be very particular.”
“Not to burst your bubble, but I’m looking for one named Black Edward Tew. An old girlfriend wants to know what happened to him.”
“And why are you the one doing the looking?”
“I’ve been hired to.”
“A sword jockey?”
I nodded.
“He hasn’t been around for years. I’ve heard he was dead. Why does your client wish to find him now?”
“She’s waited as long as she can.”
“That’s a woman’s reason, all right.” Hawk closed his eye in apparent thought. At last he said, “I assume you know the story.”
“Not really. I’ve just heard contradictory hints.”
“And so you thought of me?”
I shrugged. I didn’t want to mention Jane, or my bribe for him, unless I had to. “You’re the first guy lots of people think of when they hear the word pirate.”
“How flattering. Well, I get so few visitors, I suppose it would be rude of me to send you packing. So you want the story of Black Edward Tew, eh? Here’s the tale as I know it. Edward Tew was a common sailor on merchant vessels, content with his lot, until one day he met a girl in a tavern. I don’t know the particulars, and I’ve heard it told both ways: either she turned him pirate to keep her in jewels, or he turned pirate on his own to impress her. I suppose ultimately only the two of them know what really passed between them. At any rate, shortly thereafter, he signed onto a new ship, and while it was at sea, he led a mutiny. The captain was killed, the loyalists set adrift, and the ship rechristened the Bloody Angel. Always liked that name. And young Edward Tew became Black Edward, novice scourge of the waterways.”
I was aware of Hawk’s horrible deeds, his fearsome reputation, and the fact that if he really applied himself, he could probably kill me before I saw it coming. Yet it was hard not to smile. He had an easygoing air that implied his prison stay was little more than a weekend inconvenience. Don’t forget what he is, LaCrosse, I told myself, or what he’s capable of.
“Up to that point, it could have been the story of a thousand pirates, including myself,” Hawk continued. “But now comes the miraculous part. King Clovis of Witigan built a new castle far from his old one, and the quickest way to move his treasure to it was by sea. Only the good king outsmarted himself. He put together an intimidating fleet, all right: a dozen Witiganian warships guarded the single massive vessel on which everyone assumed he’d put his treasure. But in reality, he put it on a plain merchant ship leaving three days later, which is what Black Edward unknowingly captured as his first victim. Imagine his surprise when he saw the biggest single treasure in recorded history lying before him.”
“I bet he smiled.”
“I’d have pissed myself. So Edward immediately headed back for his woman. But a storm came up and sank his ship within sight of his destination. All hands lost, save one to tell the tale. As luck would have it, there’s a huge trench there, far too deep for any diver, and there lies Black Edward’s treasure, intact but untouchable. They say.”
“In my experience, ‘they’ aren’t always that reliable. Convenient there was one survivor. Who was he?”
“The quartermaster. A thoroughly unscrupulous worm of a man.”
“You knew him?”
“He tried to sign aboard the Poison, but he was more trouble than he was worth. He told me that the tale of Black Edward’s demise was a lie, that in fact the treasure was hidden on an island and the whole sinking of the Bloody Angel was a ruse.”
“You didn’t believe him?”
“I wouldn’t believe him if he said the sun rose in the east.”
“So you never checked his story.”
“No.”
“What was his name?”
He smiled. “You’re the kind of man I could drink with, Mr. LaCrosse. If they let me have drinks here, that is. You assume that since I’m sitting up here desperate for company, that I might break my oath to the Brotherhood of the Surf. Grand Article Number Four: ‘No brother will ever betray another to the forces of law and order.’ ”
“No, I don’t think you’re desperate. And I’d never ask for information without offering to pay.”
Now he laughed. “Mr. LaCrosse, look around. Even if you were planning to share Black Edward’s lost treasure, it would do me no good. So what can you possibly have to trade that I could use?”
Before I could reply, Hawk looked up sharply. He said, “Wait a moment. You didn’t know that the Bloody Angel ’s quartermaster crossed my path, did you? No, you didn’t. So why did you come to me, Mr. LaCrosse? Not just because I’m old enough that I might remember.” I could almost hear the gears in his brain clicking as he puzzled it through. “You came to see me because…” His smile grew broad. “Jane. You’re here with Jane.”
He stood, a liquid motion that seemed almost inhumanly swift. I jumped. He came toward me, and despite the net and bars between us, I said, “Like I said, Hawk, I’m scared of you. Stay right there or I’ll leave.”
He stopped and held up his hands. “Of course. So is Jane down below? Hiding beneath the fog?”
“Jane doesn’t do much hiding. She’s working for me on this, so I wanted to do the asking.”
“And now you want the name. But there’s still the question about why I would do that. Money doesn’t do me much good here.” He scratched at his beard. “So what can you possibly have to trade to make me betray a fellow brother of the surf?”
I reached into my pocket, careful to make no sudden moves; I didn’t want to startle Hawk, or send myself into another uncontrolled spin. I removed the thing I had claimed below, just before I handed over my boot knife.
He made no move to take it, but his eye never left it. “Is that-?”
“It is.”
He extended his hand.
I pulled mine back. “First the name.”
He was silent for a long moment. I felt the first stirrings of wind, and the crow below me cawed as if to welcome it. “All right. His name was Marteen, I believe. Wendell Marteen. The last I heard of him, he tried to captain a ship of his own off the Fussell Islands, but he was considered bad luck for surviving the Bloody Angel ’s sinking.”
The initials, at least, matched those of the sole survivor mentioned in the official Watchorn records. “Bad luck for surviving?”
“Sailors are a superstitious lot, and their superstitions don’t always make sense. I assumed that was why he made up the tale that the Bloody Angel had been deliberately scuttled. Time, I think, has given the lie to that story. After all, if Black Edward were still alive, could he truly sit on a treasure of that magnitude for twenty years?”
“Where can I find Marteen?”
He shrugged. “I’m not in the loop, as they say. No doubt many things have changed since my incarceration. For all I know, he rots in one of the cells below us. That would be ironic, wouldn’t it? If that’s not the case, I would look in the Southern Ocean, where the pirates are common. He never struck me as the type to explore new horizons.”
“All right. Thanks.” Then I held out the treasure that had made him cooperate: a lock of Jane Argo’s hair.
The net caught his fingers as he slowly reached through the bars. He took the curl from my outstretched hand. He stepped back, carefully maneuvered the lock through the netting, and held it close to his good eye. “Well, I’ll be damned. Thank you, Mr. LaCrosse.”
“My pleasure. And actually, I do have one more question.”
He continued to gaze at the lock of hair. “And it is-?”
“They say you killed a guard for no reason. Is that true?”
He broke his attention away from the curl. “What? No, not at all. I had a reason.”
“What was it?”
“He talked about my mother.” Then he smiled.
I had to fight surprisingly hard not to as well. “Any message for Jane?”
He looked at me with that one crystal-clear eye, and for an instant I glimpsed the ice-cold consciousness behind it. I was really glad I didn’t have to face him across swords. I wondered how Jane had managed to do it.