“I’m going wherever you go,” the Arbiter said with a sigh.
“What’s that now?”
“From now on, Captain,” she said, spitting the title as if it were distasteful on her tongue, “I am your new shadow and a marked improvement on your old one. Much prettier, you see.”
Drake let out a groan. He saw his brother’s hand in this. He couldn’t see any other reason for a witch hunter of the Inquisition to be stalking him; they had far more important things to do, such as burning folk alive and generally putting the fear of their god into anyone and everyone they met.
“I have been ordered by an Inquisitor to protect you, Captain Morrass,” Beck said, confirming his suspicion.
“Aye. He happen to tell you why?”
Beck narrowed her eyes. “No. I presume it must be because a heretic is trying to kill you. I can’t see any other reason. You strike me as just another common thief.”
“I prefer pirate.” Drake grinned.
“I don’t care what you prefer. My orders are to follow and protect you until further notice, and that is exactly what I intend to do. Feel free to refuse my protection and sail away without me. I will happily return to the Inquisition with the knowledge that I tried.”
Drake was fast forming a dislike for this woman. Unfortunately, if Hironous had sent her then it was for Drake’s own good. His brother had the sight, the ability to see into a person’s future, and Drake had long ago learned to both trust and rely on his brother’s advice.
“Fine. When you’re on my ship you follow my rules and do as you’re told.”
The Arbiter snorted. “Not likely. I will require my own cabin, which will be completely private. Anyone caught snooping around will be killed on sight.”
Drake sucked at his golden tooth as he glared at the woman. “You can have my first mate’s cabin. Don’t go killing folk just for walking past though. Good?”
“I will also require use of the ship’s galley. I will prepare my own food.”
Drake waved away the demand. “You can take that up with Curden, he’s the cook.”
“You will also inform your crew that I am not fair game. If any of them so much as attempts to touch me, I will kill them.”
Drake laughed. “Rule on ship, you want folk to leave you alone then you tell them yourselves. Violence is acceptable…”
“No,” Beck said in her honeyed voice. “You will tell them, and make it an order. If any of your crew so much as touches me, I will kill them and ten more. Unless you can afford to be captaining a ghost ship, Captain Morrass, you will acquiesce to this.”
Drake didn’t just want to lay a hand on her; he wanted to lay a fist on her, and more than one at that. But there were some things Captain Drake Morrass wasn’t allowed to show, and frustration was one of them, so he let out a jovial laugh and decided he’d make his brother pay for sending Arbiter Beck to him.
“I can see why Inquisitor Vance sent you.” Drake started towards the tavern exit, not waiting to see if she would follow.
“How do you know which Inquisitor sent me?” Beck asked from behind, and Drake felt her compulsion, her magic, attempt to lock on to his will and force the truth from his lips. To be fair to Beck, her will was strong and would have easily dominated most men, but Drake was not so ignorant to the tricks of Arbiters as most men. The tattoo branded onto his skin countered her magic, allowing his will to slip away from her grip, and her compulsion failed.
As Drake reached the door he gave the woman a withering look over his shoulder and relished in her confusion. “Not quite so common as you might think, Arbiter.”
Chapter 3 - The Phoenix
Yanic didn’t like the situation one bit. “I don’t like this situation one bit, Cap’n.”
Captain Stillwater turned an incredulous gaze on his first mate. “It was your bloody suggestion to come here. Quartermain giving the best prices and all that.”
“That was before I saw Starry Dawn sat at dock, Cap’n.” Yanic had been with Keelin on The Black Death, and he’d seen the two of them together. Nothing good ever came from their close proximity. “I was there on The Black Death with ya, Cap’n. Seen you two together…”
“I’m well aware how much of a shit storm that was, Yanic.”
“Beggin’ ya captain’s pardon, but ya really ain’t.”
Keelin turned a dangerous glare on his first mate, and Yanic decided to shut up and take a real interest in a gull that had landed on the The Phoenix’s figurehead, a beautiful carving of a bird emerging from an egg surrounded by fire.
The sea around the Isle of Goats, a descriptive rather than artful name, was stained a permanent brown-green colour that was off-putting to look at and stuck to the hull of a ship long after she’d left its waters. The Isle of Goats was one of the larger habitable land masses in the Pirate Isles and was vaguely crescent shaped. There were three ports to speak of on the island, but only one town, Fango.
Legend had it that long ago, the old Captain Black, the most notorious and bloodthirsty pirate ever to have lived among the realms of men, had pirated his way across the seas for decades before his death. Captain Black had amassed a fortune, a sum to rival even the wealth of the merchants of Acanthia. The old, dead Captain Black had reportedly hidden his riches on the Isle of Goats. In more recent memory the new Captain Black, a man equally as bloodthirsty but lacking in fortune, had settled the island as his own personal haven, and, as was like to happen around powerful men, folk had followed him. Before long the town of Fango had arisen, and it soon became one of the most populous of all the pirate towns. Unfortunately Fango still had very real ties to the new Captain Black and that put Yanic, Captain Stillwater, and the whole crew of The Phoenix in more than a little jeopardy every time they visited the town.
Dense forest occupied much of the island, along with a small range of mountains and an inland lake that never seemed to run dry. Rumour had it the lake had no bottom, and if the waters were ever to run clear one would be able to see all the way into the realm of the dead, and might even catch a glimpse of lost loved ones staring right back.
It took a full three days to sail around the Isle of Goats, even if the wind was with a ship, and if its captain didn’t know the coast too well, there were very real risks of the vessel being gutting on the jagged rocks hidden just below the surface of the murky waters. Luckily for The Phoenix and her crew, she not only had a captain who knew the local waters intimately, but also a first mate who had indeed drawn the charts of those same waters.
“Is it too late to turn tail and run?” asked Yanic. “Port Sev’relain is barely a week away and Black Sands ain’t out of distance neither.”
“We’re here now, Yanic,” Captain Stillwater said with grim determination.
“More’s the pity.”
“It could be worse.”
Yanic cocked an eyebrow at his captain. “How?”
Keelin Stillwater drew in a deep breath and let it out as a ragged sigh. “You could be me.”
Yanic could find no argument with the statement so decided to keep quiet. “Ain’t nothing ya didn’t bring on yaself,” he then said in direct opposition to his decision.
The captain glared at Yanic, then shrugged. With a sigh he moved to the wheel and took it from Freman.
“We’ll head around to south port and dock there. I want to be in and out in two days.”
Yanic drifted away from the railing and stood behind his captain. “Two days is a long time, and the island ain’t that big. She’ll soon find out about ya, Cap’n.”