The Pirate's Lady

Chapter Two



Rillen stood before the Yelen council, his hands clasped behind his back to hide their white-tipped clenching. If only he could do something about the sweat on his brow.

“Report?” asked his father, Urgaut.

“We’ve contained the Remorians as best we can. Most are nothing more than gibbering wrecks. The rest—we’re rounding them up, but they’re like wild animals. We’ve some of them hemmed in down near Mucking Lane. The racketeers can deal with them.”

“So the Godsquare is safe finally? The docks? The traders?”

“Safe enough for now, at least the licensed docks and inside Estovan’s walls. The delta islands have too much shoreline to patrol, so I’ve concentrated the men on protecting the city.”

“Satisfactory, Rillen.” His father’s face belied the words, looking almost disappointed he had nothing to berate his son for.

Rillen let out a small, silent breath, but the respite was short-lived. One of the council’s guests spoke up. Rillen tried not to stare, but it was impossible.

Three Remorian mages sat atop the dais like small glittering mountains, hunched and monstrous. Their magic glowed on their skin, a shimmering geography of crystals with ridges for brow bones and dark valleys where their eyes peeked out. Of the three, two had large patches of blankness—pale, clammy skin where they’d lost their magic in the chaos of their country falling to pieces.

The death of their Master had left them and their slaves free of the mage-bonds that held their minds and wills, and made them prisoners to their mage masters. The sudden freedom after a lifetime of being told what to do, to see, to think had sent many of the slaves mad. That was Rillen’s task—to keep that madness outside the walls of the city of Estovan, where Remorian ships had been berthed when the bonds went and the madness took hold.

The stench of the mages, of Remorians, of stale magic, assaulted Rillen even from here, seemed to clog his nose and choke his throat. A voice floated away from them, a hoarse croak through lips that barely moved. “We promised the council that our subjects will be made sane and safe again, just as soon as you can contain them. In the meantime, there are other matters to discuss. A trade and an alliance.”

Alliance was prudent but made Rillen itch in his head. Remorian mages here, ready to mage-bond people, enslave them, bend them to their will and make them dead-eyed puppets.

“The Remorian Master is dead, the mage-bonds dissolved,” Urgaut said. “The Remorians you’re trying to control need those bonds back, need the limits on their minds, or we’ll be overrun by madmen and they will die. If we find and bring the Remorians to be re-bonded, hang those too far gone, and if we catch the man the Remorians want, then these gentlemen will abide to be our new mages, our new power. Plans are already underway to negotiate new trades, new deals. This is a chance to make Estovan even greater.”

A chance for his father to get Remorian mages behind him and under his control. A power like that wasn’t to be snubbed, though Rillen doubted they could be controlled, at least not by his father.

A chance too for Rillen to prove he wasn’t just the useless second son and also to do other things, perhaps. Things he’d long dreamed of in his sweating midnight bed. He clamped his lips shut on the smile that tried to twitch them. Oh, I hope, I dream, I plan. He should do as they wanted for now. Watch, wait, be patient. See what the tide brought. “I’ll do my best, sir.”

Urgaut smiled his toady little smile. “The bond isn’t a pleasant thing to us, but it is part of Remoria, part of this deal, understood? Besides, this is your chance to catch the man who’s been a knife in our back for too long. The man you’ll be hunting is Van Gast.”

Van Gast? The name made Rillen’s stomach churn in anticipation. The ultimate prize, the most notorious rack. The man who’d stolen a ship, a bride, a dowry, a diamond the size of his fist and then disappeared without a trace. Who’d shot Rillen’s brother in the back last week, killed Arden, a fact which still hadn’t quite sunk in. He wanted to be the man who caught the uncatchable, whose name would be forever known as the captain who bested Van Gast, out-twisted him. Even better, he wanted to have his own personal revenge on the man who’d shot his brother like a coward.

Yet how?

They didn’t even know what he looked like in any detail. Dark eyes, dark hair, the nut-brown skin of a mainlander, which described just about everyone in Estovan, even Rillen himself. He could rule out Remorians, with their copper-bronze skin and bond scars, their disjointed ravings, and the handful of big blond Gan bodyguards from far over the Western Sea. Other than that, Van Gast could be almost any man in the city.

“The man’s impossible to catch.”

The mage’s voice creaked out into the silence that followed. “Not impossible. The Master caught him.”

“But he’s dead, you say.” I see, all of a sudden. “And it was Van Gast that killed him. Brought us this madness. You want vengeance.”

The mage’s eyes, hiding in their glittery caves, bored into Rillen and made him shiver in the heat. “As do you, if I’m not mistaken.” The mage smiled, letting a flake of power break off by his mouth.

Rillen glared at him, but the sick coiling in his stomach kept his words in his head.

“He had help when he killed the Master,” the mage said. “From other racketeers, from one of our own, Commander Holden. And if you find him too, then we’ll be doubly pleased. The price on Van Gast’s head alone should help you to catch him. Any rack would sell his soul for ten thousand gold sharks. For that, someone will turn him in, we’re sure. Or you’ll catch him. Then I’m going to put his head on a spike down by the rack docks so everyone will know the price for interfering in Remorian business. Eventually, anyway.”

Rillen tamped down his sudden interest. “So how do we catch him? How do we even know where he is?”

Urgaut smiled, the predatory look of a water-raptor waiting for a drunk to fall into its jaws. “That’s simple. We know Van Gast’s ship, even if he’s re-rigged it, renamed it—the Lone Queen. It’s just sailing into the delta. Find it, find him and bring him to me. I’m not overly concerned at the state of his body when you do.”

Rillen knew a dismissal when he heard it, and took his leave, his mind working furiously. Van Gast. A prize worth working toward. A retribution for Arden and more besides. Van Gast was uncatchable, or so they said, and Rillen had long suspected it was true.

So, play it clever. Find the ship and also find someone to get aboard, someone who could act like a racketeer. Someone who would do anything for him if it meant the possibility of her uncle being freed from the dungeons.

He had just the young lady in mind.

* * *

Van Gast stood easy as the current under him changed. He closed his eyes and tasted the wind. “Into the delta wash now. Almost there.” His lips curved in a grin. Stupid, this risk, but by Kyr’s mercy, it was what he wanted, needed. A twist, she’d said, and wondering about it, what it was, who they’d be twisting, had kept him going.

Holden checked the rigging, the heading and the helmsman. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” He frowned at the first hints of the low sandy islands at the edge of the delta.

“No, but that’s never stopped me. It’ll be fun. Exciting. We’ll go in sneaky. I like sneaky.”

“Yes, but—”

“But bugger all. We’re going. I’ve been cooped up too long. I need to get off this ship and get some air. Steal something. Get drunk and have some fun.” Find what I’m looking for, the only reason I’m here. Josie. No need to worry Holden with that part.

Holden looked down at him, his eyes preoccupied, as though he were debating whether to say anything. Too damn serious, that was Holden’s trouble. At last he came out with, “It’s not just you who’s at risk, though, is it? You’re a wanted man in Estovan and so is everyone who goes with you. They’re my crew—”

“Whose?” Van Gast raised an eyebrow.

Holden scowled. “Fine, they’re your crew now. But they were my men for a long time, and you’re risking their lives on a whim.”

“It’s not a whim. Even if it was, you aren’t bond-slaves now, you’re racks, and you need to learn the rules.”

Holden didn’t appear to be swayed, his face set, arms crossed. “Which are?”

“I have no idea. No point knowing, really, when all I do is ignore them, and so should you now. All you had all your life was rules. Now you don’t have any! Look, it’ll be easy enough. Any crew who don’t want to be racks can go ashore, find a new life. I’ll even front them some money. I’m nice like that. But this is what I do. Risky is where the money is. Besides, it makes it more fun, and I’ve had precious little of that the last few weeks. It could be time for a party. Parties are good. Booze, women, you know. Fun. About time you learned that word, and Estovan is the place for that. I could teach you a hundred different meanings of the word fun here, at least. Oh yes.”

Van Gast rubbed his hands together at the thought. Down-and-dirty Estovan, full of every pleasure known to man, and some that might surprise even him.

“A party?” Holden look aghast. “Van, I absolutely—”

“Absolutely nothing. You’re going to have fun if it kills me. I’ll make a rack of you yet. Ah, Guld. What have you got for me?”

The ship’s true-mage stumbled to a stop on the deck, his mousy robes in a tangled mess and his eyes bleary.

“What?” Guld blushed as both Van Gast and Holden looked at him. “Oh, um, yes. Quite a bit actually, Van. Firstly, Estovan is in chaos. Looting, occasional riots, some of the delta shanty-town got burned down three days ago. Utter chaos. It’s, um, a bit of a mess to be honest.”

That brought Van Gast back to good humor, though it made Holden even more wary. “We should hold off, anchor here until it settles.”

“No, we should not!” Van Gast paced across the deck, Forn’s bells chiming, the prayer bells every sailor wore to fend off death by drowning at the hands of the merciless god of the sea. His grin was back after weeks lost at sea, his heart was alive with possibilities and the nearness of Estovan, of the thrill. Of Josie. It, she, was all he could think about. “Chaos is good. I don’t expect a Remorian to understand it, but any rack worth his salt is in there making good, hard cash, believe me. It’s a built-in distraction, see? Essence of any good twist. Distract the mark, come in sideways, go home with a pocketful of gold. Go on, Guld. Why the chaos?”

“Remorians.” He glanced up shyly at Holden. “Sorry, but when you shot the Master, they all became free, all those slaves—you remember what that was like?”

Van Gast suppressed a shudder at the memory of the bond on his wrist, in his head. Only for a few minutes, and he’d been lucky. For those bonded all their lives until now, freedom—true freedom of mind and thought and soul—was too big, too…too everything for them to cope with. Some couldn’t. A few of his new crew sat below decks, not speaking or moving, unable to take it in. Others had taken their own lives or, drunk on freedom and a newfound rage they didn’t know how to control, killed each other in knife and pistol fights.

“There were several Remorian ships in Estovan’s docks when that happened, and others in the area,” Guld said. “They…well. Chaos, like I said. There’s been at least two riots, and the Yelen guards have been hard put to control everything. That’s not all though. There’s a price on your head.”

Van Gast preened. “When isn’t there? It’ll do them no good, they’ve never managed to catch me. They don’t even know what I really look like.”

“Yes, but still—”

“Still nothing.” All this talk was making Van Gast fidgety. He’d had enough of being cooped up, enough of these gray Remorian clothes, enough of Holden being sensible. “Is she here?”

Guld blushed at the question everyone had danced around all this time. “I don’t know yet, Van.”

“Well, sodding well find out.” Van Gast started pacing again. “In the meantime, chaos, you said. Guards overworked. Riots. Perfect for what I have in mind. Come on, Holden. I feel a powerful need to steal something.”

* * *

Van Gast watched the delta islands slide closer as the ship scudded toward Estovan under a clear sky. The glass dagger was back in his hands—one reason for playing bones, it kept that dagger and all its reminders off him. He stroked the hilt with his thumb and held it up to the light. The etchings on it were intricate, delicate as spider webs and more impressive when shared with a pair. Olar wedding daggers—to prove you married for love not gain. Each new bride and groom drank the oil and stabbed each other in the heart. If they married true, they lived. If not, a short and unexpectedly chaste wedding night followed.

This dagger no longer had a pair, yet it was empty of the oil it should have held. Josie had left it for him, weeks ago now. A sign, and almost all he had of her.

Holden’s wife, Ilsa, stepped up to the rail beside him and he shoved the dagger away. Ilsa leaned against the rail. Not long ago, on the day her mage-bond had come off, she’d leaned over the rail and laughed at her newfound freedom, at seagulls and salt spray and the wind in her hair. Since then… They’d all found it hard, all the ex-slaves, but Van Gast thought it was worst for Ilsa. Before that day, she’d never met anyone who hadn’t been bonded, a slave to their Master’s will. Never left Remoria, never seen the ports that bustled and hustled and shouted their way into your blood like wine. She seemed to have shrunk, bit by bit, since the bond had gone.

She watched the first of the islands slide past, little more than sandbanks that the lookout called to the helmsmen. Never in the same place twice, not in this stretch of the delta. They could have gone along the main course of the river, but that would be more stupid than even Van Gast was willing to risk.

Ilsa’s soft voice made Van Gast jump, startled out of his own thoughts. “What’s it like, Estovan?”

They passed the dead skeleton of a fishing boat caught on a bank, and the smell of brackish water and too many people crammed into too small a space wafted their way.

“What was Remoria like, really?” Van Gast watched her carefully, noted the nostalgic twist of a lip.

“Peaceful. Clean, beautiful. Soulless. But my home.” She turned dark eyes on him, and the sadness there made him wish, just for a heartbeat, that she could have been left there to her life. But there was nothing in Remoria for her now. “I wish—I wish sometimes I had my bond back on, and so did Holden. At least then I knew. Who I was, who he was, what we had together. Now I don’t know anything, except that I know nothing. I feel so alone. Before I always had a link, to Holden, to everyone else through the bond. And now he’s so—so—”

She broke off and wiped a shaky hand over her eyes.

Van Gast floundered at this part, out of his depth. Crying women always made him feel guilty, even when he hadn’t done anything wrong. Which wasn’t often, granted. The hardest thing was that everyone on this new crew looked to him, made him feel as enslaved as they had once been. He alone knew how to be free, how to live without constant instruction, rules, chains.

He patted her hand, feeling awkward and stupid. “Estovan is nothing like that. It’s—it’s glorious and chaotic and smelly and vibrant and dangerous and colorful and f*cking wonderful.”

He laughed at the look on her face, but at least he’d taken her mind off her misery. “Look, Ilsa, it’s as hard for all them as it is for you, only they have to try to keep a bold front too. You know, be men about it. Holden wants to make you happy, I know he does, but he daren’t show you how f*cked up he is. It’s going to take some time, but you’ll figure it all out in the end—who you really are, what you want. You’re going to have to be bold. And with Holden being such a serious moaner, as tied up in knots as that rope over there, you might have to take the lead.”

She looked at him as though he’d just suggested she walk naked over hot coals. “Me, I can’t—I don’t know how.”

Van Gast smiled to himself, thinking just how different Ilsa and Josie were—and seeing perhaps just why Holden had once got his head turned by Josie, who knew what she wanted and when she wanted it, who was freer in the mind than a flock of birds. And why Ilsa was a better bet for him, in the end. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

He rummaged in one of his numerous pockets. “Look, here you are. A few gold sharks. Be enough to buy yourself something pretty, or something you’ve always wanted. I promise you, if you’re happy, then Holden will be happier. Just for once, do something for you.”

She stared down at the money, then her gaze was drawn to Estovan, the city proper just now visible—stuccoed walls blazing in the sunshine, a vast seething humanity seemingly camped on its doorstep, the haze of cooking fire smoke dimming everything, washing the city in charcoal so it looked almost attractive. Almost.

“Van, I heard some of the crew talking about Josie and—”

Van Gast’s heart stuttered, even at the mention of her. “Never mind about Josie, or what the crew say. Gossip worse than fish wives, sailors do. Never mind what anyone says, understand? You’re a rack now, you do what you want, when you want it, and screw everyone else. You know what it is you want?”

Her gaze slid to Holden as he came up the stairs from below, flicked back to Estovan before she settled on Van Gast. “I think so.”

That was better. No tears now, but a hesitant smile, a wondering in her eyes as she considered.

“Good,” he said. “Now you go and get it and don’t let anyone stop you, all right? You can get anything in Estovan, anything at all. Everything’s for sale and that’s enough money for quite a lot, because everything is cheap here. Life, death, Kyr’s mercy, everything.”

“Anything?” Ilsa’s smile widened into brilliant, bringing a scowl from Holden as he approached, but Ilsa hugged the money to herself and stared out at Estovan again.