“Eh?” Keelin exclaimed rather pointedly. “For three drinks? Not unless it came from Pelsing’s golden tits.”
“Four drinks, actually,” Drake said with an easy smile. “Custom is for Yron to get one of what everyone else orders.”
“Cheap way to get drunk.” Keelin still didn’t reach for his purse.
“Actually, I think he just takes the money. I suggest you pay up, Stillwater. Folk who skip out on Yron without paying don’t tend to make it out of Sev’relain. Unmarked graves somewhere out in the forest, or so I hear.”
The bartender let slip a dirty grin to reinforce Drake’s point, and Keelin took the hint, though not without comment. “Fucking robbery, this.”
The bartender snatched the coin from Keelin’s fingers and snorted. “And I suppose the folk on the ships you catch willingly hand over their goods.”
Drake chuckled. “Folk’ll willingly do just about anything at the point of a sword.”
“Doesn’t taste like it came from anyone’s tits I’ve ever known, golden or otherwise,” said the woman, having already drained half her mug.
Drake turned his attention to her and grinned. She kept her gaze firmly on the mug, taking another swig.
“Word has it you burned Black Sands,” Keelin said, deciding to try to put Drake on the back foot.
“Whose word?” The captain snapped his attention back to Keelin with a look like fire and thunder mixed into one.
Keelin shrugged.
“Don’t be coy with me, Stillwater. There are some slurs to my reputation I will not abide, and credit for that massacre is very much one of them.”
Keelin hadn’t believed for a moment that Drake was behind the burning of Black Sands, and his current state of agitation only proved it. “Don’t know whose word. Heard it said in Fango though.”
“Tanner.” Drake looked like he was about to spit on the floor, but one glance towards the bartender and he seemed to decide otherwise. “There’s gonna come a time that old bastard is gonna need dealing with.
“I was there, that much is true. Sailed in just in time to see a few folk all afire trying to save themselves in the sea. Not quite in time to help them though. Sent a few boys ashore to look for survivors, but they didn’t find none. They did catch a glimpse of the fuckers that did it. Man of War flying the pretty colours of Sarth.”
Keelin glanced at the woman, wondering if there was a connection. “Very convincing,” he said. “I’m convinced.”
“I’m glad you feel that way, mate. Reckon I’ll be calling in that debt now.”
“Huh?”
“My crew saved you from… eating a table, was it? Reckon that constitutes saving your miserable life, no?”
“It may not have been fatal.” Keelin had the sudden feeling that he was a very small fish in a very large net.
“Well, either way, when you walked in you said you owed me a debt. I’m cashing in that one right now.”
“What for?”
“Your help, Captain Stillwater, in saving this town, the Pirate Isles, and every thief, beggar, and bastard that lives here.”
Keelin tried to hold it in, but it was too much for him to take and the laughter escaped as a very pointed snigger. The very idea of Captain Drake Morrass wanting to save anybody, let alone the entire Pirate Isles, was almost certainly the last thing Keelin had expected to hear. Unfortunately, as both Drake and his female companion remained stony-faced, it quickly became clear the man wasn’t joking.
“Save them from whom?” Keelin said, still laughing. “Themselves? Come on, Drake, you’ve been doing this for longer than I have. Black Sands ain’t the first town burned to the ground and it ain’t gonna be the last. That bloody God Emperor of Sarth has to look like he’s doing something about all the piracy. So they found and burned a town – two more will spring up in its place within a year.”
Drake was shaking his head. “Not this time. It ain’t just Sarth coming for us. That new king of the Five Kingdoms is building himself warships. Ain’t no need to do that unless he’s planning on using them.”
“Maybe he’s thinking of attacking Sarth?” Keelin suggested, though he already knew that would never happen. The Five Kingdoms and Sarth were far too closely allied.
Drake snorted. “You looked out in the port when you sailed in? Or, not just this port, any of them. What do ya notice?”
Keelin shrugged. “Ships? Water? Can I have a hint?”
“Ships,” Drake said in a tone that suggested he was deadly serious. “And a fuck load of them. Or maybe you and yours gone hunting of late only to find another crew has already taken the boat?”
Keelin nodded slowly. “That has happened once.”
“There’s too many of us,” Drake said, banging the table to emphasise his point. “More than ever. More, even, than in Black’s evil fucking reign. And what did Sarth and the Five Kingdoms do when the old Black was around?”
“Built ships, sailed in, and murdered everybody they could find,” Keelin agreed. “But one town doesn’t make this a purge, Drake, and I’m not about to tie my ship to yours.” Keelin drained his mug, stood up, and turned to go.
“Why not?”
Maybe it was the beating he’d only recently taken and the subsequent aches and pains, or maybe it was the daylight robbery that the bartender had just submitted him to, but Keelin was feeling particularly angry and more than willing to tell Drake the cold, hard truth.
“Because you’re Drake fucking Morrass,” he said with more venom than the average sea snake bite. “You really think I’d believe that ‘save the Pirate Isles’ shit?” Keelin let out a bitter laugh and shook his head. “I don’t. I don’t believe you. I don’t trust you and no one else does either. I’ll admit, I don’t believe you burned Black Sands yourself, but others will. They’ll believe it because they know you’re capable of it, same as Tanner Black is, only he started the rumour mill first instead of trying to peddle some shit about Sarth starting a new purge.”
“Careful, Stillwater,” Drake said behind flashing green eyes.
“Problem is, Drake,” Keelin continued, knowing somewhere deep down that he should stop but wanting to drive the point home and hurt someone, “everybody knows that you’re only out for yourself, that Drake Morrass never does anything that doesn’t benefit Drake Morrass.” With that Keelin turned and stormed towards the door. He heard the scrape and crash of a chair hitting the floor but ignored it, hoping he wasn’t about to get a bullet in the back from the Sarth woman in the hat. He made it outside before Drake caught up to him.
“How dare you question my motives, you pretend bloody pirate.”
They were out in the dust with the tavern and a couple of large houses nearby, the trees of the forest looming overhead, and the vista of Port Sev’relain spreading out below them. There was nobody around to witness the altercation and nobody around to stop any blood being spilled. Drake was close, staring right at Keelin, but his hands didn’t stray near the sword attached to his belt. His companion was loitering in the doorway, leaning against the frame, her hands hovering close to the pistols attached to her jerkin.
Keelin decided there was no point in backing down now. “I’ll stop questioning your motives just as soon as you tell me what they really are. You say you want my help. To do what? ’Cos it sure as shit ain’t saving folk you don’t care one drop about, Drake. What do you get out of helping these people?”
Drake looked torn between throwing a punch at Keelin and throwing two punches at him, but to the man’s credit, he kept control. “You self-righteous little shit. If I didn’t need your help I’d happily put a sword in you. Just my fucking luck, and yours as it happens, that I do need you.
“’Course my intentions ain’t wholly pure – no one’s are. Greed rules us all, mate. You think because you sail around on that ship of yours and offer – nay – urge folk to surrender so you don’t gotta fight – you think that makes you a good man? You’re a pirate. You rob people. You kill people. Or am I missing something? Do you then give all your loot away to folk more deserving and less financially acclimated?”