“You’ve never been to Calis, have you? The whole eastern half is a tropical forest, and the thickest part is a jungle they call the Gur Em. This is the first time I’ve ever seen a Tenkin outside of Calis, which makes me think Staul is an outcast.”
“Doesn’t sound like the type Merrick would be doing business with.”
“So Bernie remains our number one.” Hadrian thought a moment. “You think he had anything to do with Drew’s death?”
“Maybe,” Royce replied, taking a sip of rum. “He was on the mainmast that night, but I was too sick to pay attention. I wouldn’t put it past Bernie to give him a little push. He’d need a reason, though.”
“Drew and Bernie were both at a card game earlier that night. Drew won the pot and if Bernie is a thief …”
Royce shook his head. “Bernie wouldn’t kill him over a gambling dispute. Not unless it was really big money. The coppers and silvers they were likely playing for wouldn’t qualify. That doesn’t mean he didn’t kill him. It just wasn’t about gambling. Anything else happen at the game?”
“Not really, although Drew did mention he was going to talk to Grady the next morning at breakfast about someone coming aboard to help find a horn. Drew thought it was kinda funny, actually. He seemed to think the horn was easy to find. He was going to go into more detail at breakfast.”
“Maybe Drew overheard something Defoe preferred he hadn’t. That’s a more likely reason. But a horn?”
They came across Wyatt at the ship’s wheel. His plumed hat was off and his white linen shirt fluttered about his tan skin like a personal sail. He had the Storm tight over, playing the pressure of the rudder against the press of the wind. He was staring out at the headland with glassy eyes as they approached, but when he spotted them, he abruptly cast his head down at the binnacle and quickly wiped his face with the sleeve of his forearm.
“You all right?” Hadrian asked.
“Y-yeah,” Wyatt croaked, then coughed to clear his throat. “Fine.” He sniffed and wiped his nose.
“There’s a good chance you’ll find her,” Royce assured him.
“See?” Hadrian said. “You’ve even got Mr. Cynical feeling optimistic about your chances. That’s gotta count for something.”
Wyatt forced a smile.
“Hey, we’ve got a question for you,” Royce said. “Do you have any idea what the horn is?”
“Sure, you’re looking right at it,” Wyatt declared, gesturing toward the point. “That’s the Horn of Delgos. As soon as we clear it, the captain will likely order the ship to weather round the point and then tack windward.”
Royce frowned. “Let’s assume for just a moment that I’m not an experienced sailor, shall we?”
Wyatt chuckled. “We’re gonna make a left turn and head east.”
“How do you know?”
Wyatt shrugged. “The horn is the farthest spit of land south. If we stay on this course, we’ll sail into the open sea. There’s nothing out there but whirlpools, Dacca, and sea serpents. If we weather round—er—turn left, we’ll sail up the eastern coast of Delgos.”
“And what’s up that way?”
“Not much. These cliffs you see continue all the way round to Vandon, the only other sea port in Delgos. Besides being the headquarters for the Vandon Spice Company, it’s also a haven for pirates, or more accurately the haven for pirates. We aren’t going there either. The Storm is as fine a ship as they come, but the jackals would gather like a pack of wolves and dog her until we surrender, or they sink us.”
“How does the spice company manage any trade, surrounded by pirates?”
“Who do you think runs the spice company?”
“Oh.”
“Beyond that?” Royce asked.
“Dagastan Bay and the whole coast of Calis, with ports at Wesbaden and Dagastan. Then you drift out of civilization and into the Ba Ran Archipelago, and no one goes there, not even pirates.”
“And you’re sure this here is the horn?”
“Yep, every sailor who’s ever been in the Sharon knows it. It’d be impossible to miss old Drumindor.”