“Not entirely joking, Captan.” Morley quickly glanced at the rum bottle, then away. “Men ain’t much pleased what with you not delivering on the treasure.”
“They get more of a share of the loot we take than the crew of any other ship out there.”
“Aye, and that’s good enough for the most, but not for the all. You promised them riches, Captan, and you ain’t yet delivered.”
“Not like I haven’t been fucking trying. From the moment we heard about that bloody treasure I’ve been looking for a way to navigate the waters around the Forgotten Empire.”
“I know, Captan.”
“Problem is, there aren’t any charts.”
“I know, Captan.”
“Everyone who goes anywhere near those shores never returns.”
“I know, Captan.”
“And the only damned ship, crew, and captain who could possibly help us getting to that treasure…”
“I know, Captan.”
Keelin realised he was squeezing his little clay cup almost hard enough to break it, and forced himself to relax and put the vessel down. Morley was watching him with something approaching sympathy.
“He was last spotted at Black Sands as it burned back to the sand,” Keelin said through a clenched jaw.
“Only one place he’s like to be,” Morley agreed with a solemn nod.
“You’d best make sure the crew feel bloody grateful for this, Morley.” Keelin drew in a deep breath and let it out as sigh. “I’ll plot a course for Sev’relain.”
“Might be worth you talking to the men as well, Captan. Personal touch, ya might say.”
Keelin glared at his troublesome quartermaster. “Fine. Gather them on deck. I’ll be out soon.”
By the time Keelin appeared from his cabin Morley had assembled the majority of the crew, and first and foremost in the crowd, making his displeasure obvious, was Smithe. The man was six feet of bronzed muscle, with a temperament like a forest fire and a mean streak most alley cats would envy. Keelin couldn’t help but notice the man had a dagger thrust into his belt. Weapons were generally forbidden on deck unless there was a good reason.
“Finally he graces us with his presence,” Smithe said with a smirk. “Only takes a visit from her who actually owns the ship, eh?” A couple of other pirates laughed their agreement. Keelin would have rid himself of the man long ago, but Smithe was well liked among the crew.
Keelin turned, climbed up onto the aft deck, and looked down upon his assembled crew. “Smithe,” he said with a cold stare. “If you wouldn’t mind. What is the nature of pirating?”
“Takin’ stuff that ain’t ours,” the man said instantly.
“I’ll let you think about that for a moment.”
Resting his hands on his twin cutlasses and sweeping his gaze across all the crew, Keelin raised his voice. “So you had a visit from Captain Black, the pretty one, and then what? You decided your current captain ain’t up to the task no more?” There were a couple of coughs, but even Smithe remained silent at the accusation, so Keelin continued. “Times are hard. Prey is scarce. But we’re still pulling in the loot, aren’t we? And if any man here can name another sailor on another boat taking as big a cut… well, I’ll happily call them a liar.”
“You promised us the haul of a lifetime,” Smithe shouted. “Riches beyond imagine and…”
“Aye, I did,” Keelin shouted back, interrupting the surly troublemaker. “And I almost have what I need to make good on that promise. But if you would prefer to sail into the waters of the Forgotten Empire without the guide of a chart, I think you might be on your own there, mate.” Some of the crew laughed, and Smithe’s expression grew darker.
“I ask for just a little more time,” Keelin continued. “To make you all very rich men. For now we head to Port Sev’relain.” There was a cheer from the crew. “But if anyone should spot a juicy prize on the way…” Keelin grinned and let the possibility hang in the air.
Chapter 9 - Fortune
“Beautiful,” Drake said with a grin.
“There is a… grace about her that the other ships don’t have,” Beck agreed.
The one-eyed, square-jawed, badly bruised shipwright grunted his own agreement. “Ain’t never seen another like her. Who designed her?”
Drake gave the shipwright a dangerous grin. “No one standing on this side of humanity.”
“Eh?”
“Long ago I found myself shipless and very much needing of one,” Drake said, stealing a glance at Arbiter Beck out of the corner of his eye. “Lucky for me there are things greater and more powerful than men in this world, and it just so happens I know how to find a few of them. Ever heard of the Kraken’s Maw?”
“No,” Beck said with a shake of her head that set her tail of blond hair stirring underneath her hat.
“It’s a maelstrom,” the shipwright said. “The biggest and strongest any man has ever seen.” At a glare from Beck, he cleared his throat and added, “Or woman. Opens up once every ten years or so and always right underneath a ship. Takes it down into the depths. It ain’t natural though – folk say that when it opens up you can see teeth down at the bottom of it. Some folk say it’s caused by the biggest beasty the sea has to offer: a kraken so big it can eat other krakens whole.”
Drake laughed. “Superstition for the most part, I assure you. The Kraken’s Maw is something far more dangerous. It’s the one and only gateway to the court of Rin.”
The shipwright gasped and struggled from his chair. “Are you mad? You say her name standing on dry land?” The man pulled a bronze bit out of his pocket, spat upon it, and threw it as hard as he could into the ocean. “Quick,” he urged. “An offering for her peace!”
Drake loved it when people played their parts, and right now the superstitious shipwright was playing his as well as any man could have. “Oh aye,” he cooed. “For most folk you’d be right – saying her name with your feet planted on dry land would be to invite disaster. Why, she’s been known to wipe entire islands off the charts. But me, see, I’m not most men. I’m one of her beloved. One of her chosen. The sea goddess, she smiles upon me. Said so herself when I met her.”
Drake glanced at Beck. The Arbiter looked anything but impressed.
“Pirates believing in a capricious sea goddess. How quaint.”
“You got yourself a walking, talking, living god, and you think to mock our beliefs?” Drake shook his head. “Might be you should put more stock in powers greater than yourself. There’s things in this world, Arbiter, that would find great pleasure in corrupting and destroying one of Volmar’s faithful. Might be our quaint beliefs are all that’s keeping you safe.”
Beck narrowed her eyes but didn’t reply.
“You really met her?” the shipwright said.
“Aye.”
“But nobody ever called to her court returns.”
Drake shrugged. “There’s at least one that has. Though can’t say I was all the same when I came back.”
The shipwright sagged back into his chair, a look one part astonishment to three parts awe on his face. “How?”
“Well, I found myself all sorts of stranded on an island, you see, needing of that ship I mentioned. So I built a raft, nothing but logs lashed together with coconut hair really, and I set out to summon the Maw. Made all the right offerings and said all the right words, and it opened up right beneath my little raft – just as you said, only without the teeth, I reckon. Waves taller than the tallest building man has ever built and waters rushing in every direction faster than a bird can fly, and down I went on my little raft into the depths.” Drake paused and took a deep breath. “And that there is where I died.”
“You died?” Beck said, her eyes narrowing.