The Pirate's Lady

Chapter Five



Rillen hurried along the pale corridors, past the blocky statues and badly daubed murals of dolphins and sharks and kraken that he was sure were only there because some previous councilor had heard of art and decided he must try some. His footsteps echoed among them, in and out of open archways that lined the corridor, through the plants that grew and tangled in every corner.

By the time he made it to the council chamber, he was hot, wet with sweat, and irritable. He held it in though, at the sight of the mages up on the dais. One of their rebonded slaves fussed around them and another watched Rillen with blank eyes, her face smooth of thought or feeling and chilling his sweat. Was this another one of Old Toady’s stupid ideas that end up biting chunks out of everyone but him?

He looked away, toward the toad form of his father. Urgaut blinked slowly and spoke without preamble, without even a greeting for his own son.

“You’ve stopped watching for Van Gast.” Urgaut looked him up and down and snorted disdainfully out of flared nostrils. “But then, I hardly think you could watch unobtrusively, if this is the best you can contrive. You look like the bastard love-child of a painted whore and a dyer with no sense of color.”

No, just your bastard love-child, and you’ve never let me forget that, have you? Rillen held it all in—it would achieve nothing except ridicule—and waited for his father to continue. Interruptions were not tolerated.

“Arden would have made a much better job of it, would have caught Van Gast long before now.” Urgaut’s eyelids drooped, hooded his eyes against the barb he hoped to put in Rillen’s heart.

Arden—yes, shame he was dead then really. Arden the perfect in their father’s eyes. Arden the legitimate. Arden, the one person Rillen had ever truly admired. He wished he could say the thoughts that sprang to mind every time he was in his father’s presence, but the dungeons were close, and dark, and full of screams. A small, sly dig was all he could afford until the time was right and he could squash little toady flat. “Maybe he would have, if he’d been sent to watch the right ship.”

Urgaut’s lips twitched in annoyance and he cast a wary, sly look at the mages. They sat calm, seemingly uninterested, except Rillen thought that he could see a spark of concentration among the glint and gleam of crystals in one mage, the center one.

Rillen addressed himself to that one rather than his father. “The Lone Queen is no longer Van Gast’s.” Give them a little, keep the rest, keep Haban’s niece to himself for now. “But I have every confidence I shall be able to catch him.”

“I doubt it, you little—”

The mage cut off Urgaut’s latest stream of invective with the merest twitch of an admonishing finger. His eyes studied Rillen, the only thing about him that seemed alive, the only things that could move freely. So much power, but so little freedom. Yet Rillen would swap in a heartbeat just for the ability to make his father’s heart and soul twist in a bond. The mages had Urgaut in their power now, even if he thought otherwise.

The mage crooked his finger, and Rillen approached. The stench of unwashed skin, of greased hair trapped in clumps under a swathe of glittering yet stinking crystals, made Rillen hold his breath. Not because if he got close enough a bond could be his reward. The smell, only the smell made him hesitate.

“You’re a brave man, to come so close,” the mage murmured, then louder, “I have every confidence in your son, Urgaut. Let’s see what he brings us.”

He smiled Rillen’s way, a careful smile, mindful of his crystals, and his eyes spoke many words to Rillen. Chief among them was a disdain for Urgaut, a wish that they not need to deal with such a man. Very interesting.

* * *

Van Gast sat in his quarters, going over everything with Guld.

“Ten thousand sharks!” was about all Van Gast had managed to say for quite some time.

“Well, um, we knew they’d have a price on your head. Not just that stolen diamond, you shot a Yelen man in Bilsen.”

Well, he hadn’t—but his name was the one the escapees had heard. “I know, but Kyr’s mercy—I’m proud, Guld, that’s what I am. No one’s ever been worth that much before, not even half that much. Even old Faelin himself wasn’t worth more than five hundred, and he stole half the Yelen’s fleet before they caught him.”

“Proud?” Guld looked at him sideways, as though he’d gone mad from the heat. “Really? I’d have thought itching to get out of here would be more like it. Um, I’d quite like to. Leave, I mean.”

“First things first, young Guld. We have things to do here. Re-crew, re-fit.” Do whatever he had to, to gain Josie’s trust again, but Van Gast didn’t say that part. Guld knew, Holden knew—damn it, they all did. They all looked at him like he was crazy. He was crazy, but gods alive, this would be fun. If he got what he came for, it’d be worth it.

“—the refit’s almost done,” Guld was saying. “We changed the names and figureheads before we even made land, and the rest was easy enough. Found a possible cargo, too, a good lot of silks. Bit smoky—the warehouse got set alight in the last lot of trouble here. Oh, and Holden’s got some crew.”

“Already? That was quick. When I found out the Yelen were rounding up Remorians, I thought he’d have trouble.”

“He, er, he looks different.”

Van Gast stood and took his snifter of brandy over to the window next to Guld. Six new crew were just boarding the ship. An itch began behind Van Gast’s breastbone. Something was amiss. Just a tickle. Nothing much—yet, but something to beware of.

Four men, two of them he recognized. Good enough lads, at least they should be once they were away from the temptation of Van’s bounty. A dark, leggy girl with rather extravagant charms who Van Gast knew—Gilda. Good, a few women on board always kept things a bit in line, made the men behave themselves in the hope of a tumble. Gilda should keep them all on their toes, or on their knees perhaps, because she was a saucy madam who knew just what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to say so. She’d be in among them all like a shark among seal-pups. Only possibly with more blood. Gilda glanced up at the window, caught sight of him and tipped him a saucy wink and a blown kiss.

The last was a bouncy little lass with a wide, infectious grin walking next to Holden, who appeared to be blushing the same deep red as his new shirt.

“Oh tut tut, Holden, and you a married man. He does look different, doesn’t he?” Van Gast had to hold in a chuckle. Holden was a stern man, serious and almost severe, and now here he was with a bit of bright color on him and his hair sticking out as though he’d just got out of bed. Blushing because a girl had her hand on his arm. His face went an even darker red as he got her aboard and she said something to him, let her hand linger on his. No doubt about it, the way she was looking at him, smiling up from under dark lashes. Holden turned away abruptly, looking stunned and bemused, and hurried toward Van’s quarters.

“Good job Ilsa’s not here to see that. Where is Ilsa anyway?”

Holden appeared in the doorway, his eyes daring Van Gast to laugh. “Six crew, all with experience. And yes, where is Ilsa?”

“I, er, oh, she went ashore.” Guld wilted under Holden’s stare. “She said she had things to buy, you know, um, lady things.”

“Lady things?” Van Gast snorted. “How long have you been a rack mage now, Guld?”

“More to the point, you let her go alone?” Holden’s blush had gone, along with his self-consciousness.

“I, er, well…” Guld couldn’t seem to control his lips and Van Gast rescued him.

“She doesn’t need permission. This is a rack ship now, rack rules. That means ignoring whatever rules you feel like ignoring, whenever you feel like it. Unless I put my foot down, and maybe not even then. See? That’s what makes a rack a rack and not a merchant. They break the rules when they think they can get away with it. Much better to just imagine they don’t apply to you. I’ve told you all this, Holden. It’s about time you started to act like a rack. Brandy?”

Holden scowled a no and stared out of the window, scanning Mucking Lane, no doubt looking for Ilsa.

“She’ll be fine, as long as she doesn’t go too far. She could do with some cheering up, seeing the world a bit. So, these crew, anything I should know? No one chasing them for debts, hunting them down for murder, that sort of thing? We’ll be here a little while, I don’t want Yelen guards turning up. Gods only know what Gilda’s been up to. Probably broken half the men in port, and the other half are just waiting their turn.”

Holden twitched a shoulder, which Van Gast assumed meant no. Then he frowned as a thought struck him. “Tallia. The small one. She knew who I was.”

“The one making you blush like a girl?” Holden’s scowl was reward enough, so Van Gast didn’t push it. “How do you mean?”

“She knew who I was. I didn’t give a name, but she called me Commander Holden.”

Van Gast raised an eyebrow and wondered at the itch in his chest. “Interesting. The Commander could have come from your old tunic, the insignia. The trouble with uniforms, I’ve always thought. Besides, maybe you’re more famous than you think. They must have heard something about what went on. Holden, the man who killed the Master and set all Remorians free from the mage-bond. They’ll be singing songs about you by now, all up and down the western coast. You’ll be fighting the women off with a stick. Like Tallia.”

He really had to stop needling Holden. It wasn’t his fault Josie had hoodwinked him blind, well, hoodwinked them both really, because Van Gast had fallen for her twist too. Anyway, Holden was just so damn serious about everything. It gave Van Gast a nervous tic.

“Um, actually they d-don’t know,” Guld stuttered as they both turned to look at him. “I asked around the true-mages. Nobody really heard much at all. A massacre of racks, that got round quick, and that it was the Remorians doing it. After that—um, after that all they know is the Remorians all suddenly started raving, the ones who were here, and tore up the Godsquare, the licensed docks, inns, brothels, you name it. Fired their ships, at least four Remorian mages dead. They know the Master’s dead, the bonds are gone. That’s all, because the only people who were there to really know what happened are aboard this ship and Josie’s.”

“You mean we went through all that, and no one knows it was us? I hope you set them straight, Guld. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

“Um, didn’t seem wise yet. See, no one knows about Josie either.” Guld dissolved into a blush bright enough to serve as a lighthouse.

Van Gast turned back to his desk and poured another brandy. He concentrated on that when he spoke, that and the cool smoothness of the glass dagger in his shirt. “What don’t they know about her?”

“Any of it, that she was bonded to the Remorians—that alone would be enough to give her trouble, don’t you think? That the racks might think she’d been one of them, maybe still is? They don’t know about, um, her and Holden, or you and her playing everyone for fools all that time, or any of it. It seemed best not to tell them. They think you’re after her because she stole your ship, that you hate each other still, like you were always pretending.”

Van Gast had to forget what had gone before and think about how to make it up to her. Finally he found his voice. “You’re right, best they don’t know. So this Tallia girl, Holden. She didn’t know your name because you’re famous, but she did know your name. That makes my trouble bone itch, just a little. So keep an eye on her, watch her. If I’m honest, Ilsa being ashore makes me itch a little too. Send one of the new crew to find her. We don’t want trouble for our Remorians if they go ashore, so one of them will have to do. Gilda, perhaps. I know her of old, and she’s good crew. I’m going to see who I can find, anyone who might know where Josie’s berthed.” He raised an eyebrow as Guld opened his mouth to protest. “Yes, in disguise. I’m not completely reckless. You, Guld, I want you scouring every place a ship of the Ghost’s draught could berth.”

“Van, there’s a thousand islands out in the delta. And half of those could be—”

“Best get on with it then, hmm?” Van Gast stared out the window, wondering where she was, what she was planning. She must have known he’d follow her, no matter what she said, known he couldn’t resist the thrill of it. Knew, he hoped, that she could trust him, that he would trust her. He wouldn’t make that mistake twice. He blindly watched the comings and goings along Mucking Lane, noting the brawl at the other end, ruthlessly put down by a phalanx of guards. Estovan was different, more dangerous now, after all that had happened.

So was he. This was going to be fun. He’d make sure of that—fun if it killed him.

* * *

Holden paced the deck of the Glass Dagger, trying not to fret about Ilsa and keeping a keen eye on the new crew. The men settled in well enough, old hands all of them by the look of it. The leggy woman, Gilda, had caused something of a stir amongst the Remorian crew. They weren’t used to women on board, especially not women who flirted outrageously with every man with a pulse and kept the top two buttons of her bright shirt open for a fine view. Of a sudden, every man was on deck, watching as she helped with the rigging, deftly jumping from yard to yard, winking and blowing kisses to anyone near her. The way they’d all sagged when she’d left to find Ilsa was an education.

He kept an eye on Tallia too, but she’d slid into the crew like she was born to it, with no ripple or disturbance. She didn’t flirt outrageously or dress provocatively, not for a rack anyway. Her breeches were practical and not over-snug, her purple shirt fitting but not overflowing. She had a sort of enthusiastic elegance about her and her bells were never silent. The crew had made her one of their own immediately, liking her eagerness to help, her bright enthusiasm and her no-nonsense approach.

She was sitting cross-legged on the rear deck now, sorting a pile of frayed rope, seeing what could be salvaged. Holden watched her and pondered on how she’d known his name, why she made Van Gast’s little-magics itch. Holden didn’t understand those magics but he respected them. They were what had made Van Gast so impossible to catch, why everything had played out the way it had. Made him the rack to beat.

Every now and again, Tallia would look up at him and smile, tuck her dark hair behind her ear and then duck her head again. Holden found he was waiting for those smiles, that they made him want to smile just looking at them. So uncomplicated, not like with Ilsa where he was floundering in deep water with no notion how to swim.

Van Gast sauntered along Mucking Lane. He looked odd, with his hair tied back tight from his head and the few other details he’d changed that made him look like someone else so that Holden had to look twice to recognize him. He couldn’t suppress the swagger though, or the sheer vitality.

Tallia stood at the rail next to Holden. He hadn’t noticed her move. She stared with fascination at Van Gast. “So it is his ship then? His crew? I’m sailing with Van Gast?” She clapped her hands and bounced on the balls of her feet.

“You don’t sound surprised.” Holden was startled at the somber tone of his voice, the hint of accusation. The faintest twinge of jealousy.

Her sunny, open face closed in and Holden almost regretted the words. Except the Yelen were after Van Gast, and Holden wouldn’t be spared either, if it were true about the mages. He’d been a trusted lieutenant of theirs once. They didn’t forget betrayal like that. His only hope was that no word had got out, come back to them. Holden didn’t trust to hope. He didn’t trust the sudden look on Tallia’s face either, swiftly soothed away with a smile. A sly look, a glance that wondered about Holden.

“Everyone’s heard of Van Gast. Most racks would give a leg to serve on his crew, make the money he makes,” she said. “Why should I be any different? Just a shame it’s not on the Ghost.”

All of which seemed logical enough, only Tallia seemed nervous, a dark restiveness giving an edge to her eagerness.

“Do you think I could meet him? Why’s he here, anyway, when half the city is after him? Any man in those inns would turn him in for half the amount the Yelen are offering. It must be something big. Some huge twist he’s on, I bet.”

Too eager, too keen. Holden remembered how she’d taken hold of him, almost pushed him to take her on. At the time it had seemed like simple enthusiasm, and maybe Holden’s fragile new ego had savored how a woman seemed to actually like him. A refreshing change from Ilsa’s bewildered coldness, though that thought brought a wash of guilt. Now Tallia’s eagerness seemed more like calculation. She’d known who he was before he’d said, knew Van Gast even though Holden had been pushed to recognize him straightaway. And she was far too interested in Van Gast for his liking.

Her hand was on his arm again, a soft, familiar gesture that made Holden sweat. With nerves, with want, with guilt. Despite her inquisitiveness—or maybe because of it—she seemed uncomplicated, easy to be with. He didn’t have to sit and wonder “how do I do this?” as he did with Ilsa. He didn’t have to think he’d failed somehow. Her smile came ready and often, and made him smile in return, something he thought he might have forgotten how to do. But still— “Not today.”

He turned away from her disappointment, feeling oddly disappointed himself. There, coming up the gangplank, was the reason he shouldn’t be talking to Tallia this way, thinking of her that way.

His gaze sharpened as Gilda and Ilsa came aboard, talking animatedly.

Ilsa picked her elegant way onto the deck, her chestnut hair swinging between her shoulder blades. She wore a dress, something new. Not the gray Remorian shift-like dresses he was used to seeing her in, shapeless and bland, but something fitted in pale green silk. It did something to her, lit her up like a lamp, made her copper-bronze skin glow in the sun. Half the crew stopped to stare, and a pair of whistles made Ilsa blush, but she looked happy, something Holden had thought was drained away from her.

For a breathless moment Holden thought that maybe he loved her, not just because he’d been told to, bonded to. Loved her, was happy that she was happy, even if it wasn’t him who had made her so. Yet he couldn’t be sure, because he’d been told to love her by the Master and though he was dead, still, maybe it was that.

Van Gast came back on deck and Ilsa ran toward him, laughing, saying something Holden couldn’t catch. Van Gast swung her round and admired her, or maybe the dress. Ilsa laughed again, a flush on her cheeks making her delicate features light up. She went to kiss him—maybe on the cheek, maybe not—but Van dodged with ease and held her firmly away.

Ridiculous, to be envious. Van Gast had no interest in Ilsa, in any woman other than Josie—that was half the problem, was why they were here when Estovan was the last place any of them should be. Van Gast was helping Ilsa, as he’d helped Holden and the rest of the crew, in coming to terms with freedom, with choices. He pretended it was a burden, that they were beyond help, but Holden thought it had helped him as much as them.

“Is that Van Gast’s lover then?” Tallia asked.

Ah yes, the difference between lovers and a tumble. Van Gast had tried to explain this peculiar way the racks had, but Holden couldn’t quite grasp it. It was simple, Van Gast had said. You might not see your lover from one month to the next if you were on different ships, or they lived in port. Tumbles were how they dealt with it. A tumble was just who you ended up in bed with, a lover was who you loved, and you loved your lover and no other.

Every rack tumbled, or so Van Gast said—though it seemed he didn’t, only pretended to for his reputation. That had been why he’d hacked off Holden’s wrist. He’d said it was to rid Holden of the bond. But it was for jealousy, because Josie had lied, implied that she loved Holden so that he’d stop chasing Van Gast. She’d lied to save him, and Holden hadn’t been the only one who’d believed it.

“I heard he had a lover,” Tallia said, her voice oddly strained. “But I didn’t believe it. That man’s never going to be pinned down to one thing, one person, if half of what I’ve heard about him is true. Tumbles all over the place, yes, more than most racks put together. But a lover?”

Holden’s voice almost failed him, odd emotions he had no name for strangling his throat. “No, that’s not Josie. That’s my wife.”

He shouldn’t have said that, let Josie’s name out, but Tallia didn’t seem to have heard him. She’d find out soon enough anyway from the rest of the crew, who gossiped like fishwives when they thought Holden wasn’t listening. Tallia watched Ilsa with interest and a narrowing of her eyes that Holden didn’t like.

Ilsa kissed Van Gast soundly on the cheek before he could dodge it, laughed up at him with stars in her eyes and ran down the steps to her and Holden’s quarters, her wide grin a twist in Holden’s heart. Van Gast might have no interest in Ilsa, but that didn’t mean Ilsa had no interest in Van Gast. Holden didn’t know what was in her head, or her heart. Not anymore.

Yet Holden had been doing just the same, hadn’t he? He ignored Tallia’s smile, ignored the way she tried to squeeze his fingers, and shook her hand off his arm. “You should get back to the ropes.”

He left her there and headed for his quarters, for an Ilsa he didn’t know anymore, a happy one with a blast of freedom in her smile and a look for Van Gast that she’d never spared for Holden. He’d lost Josie to Van Gast already, and he was resigned to that. He had no intention of losing Ilsa to him as well.