The Fifth Empire of Man

Derran didn’t round the table, nor jump atop it. He locked his eyes on Keelin’s and smiled. Keelin smiled back, and a moment later the table shifted as Derran kicked it, the wood connecting with Keelin’s groin and sending him staggering back in pain. The distraction gave the Blademaster all the time he needed to walk around the table, and once more Keelin found himself within easy striking distance.

Again Derran flicked a lazy attack. This time Keelin turned the slash aside and returned two of his own. Derran’s sword flew backwards, catching one of Keelin’s then twisting almost unnaturally to snare the other. Before Keelin knew how it had happened, he found both his cutlasses crossed and against his chest with Derran’s sword pressed up against them.

Keelin pushed and Derran stepped away, his blade flicking around under Keelin’s guard and scoring a hit on his chin.

“You could have killed me.” Keelin dabbed at the cut, and his hand came away red.

“Yes,” Derran said. “I could have. Unless you start fighting seriously, little brother, the next one will.”

“You want me to try to kill you?”

“Yes. There is no other way to fight. If we hold back then we will never really know who’s better.”

“What does it matter who’s better?” Keelin remembered T’ruck Khan wanting to duel him for the same reason, and he’d beaten the giant without killing him just like he would his own brother.

“It’s the only thing that matters,” Derran said as he moved forwards again.

Keelin didn’t give his brother a chance to attack; he leapt forwards, slashing both high and low at once. Derran stepped back out of range and Keelin kept the pressure on, reversing his swords and attacking again. Again Derran stepped away. Keelin grinned and followed up, but a quick stab from his brother’s sword sent him stumbling backwards, pain coursing through his chest.

A spot of blood appeared on Keelin’s shirt, and it came with agony laced with fire. Before he could form a new plan, Derran was upon him with two quick slashes that Keelin blocked with ease. A third sweep came in, and Keelin parried and returned one of his own, trying to get some distance to recover. Derran caught Keelin’s arm with his free hand, twisted and stepped close. Pain exploded in Keelin’s face as the pommel of Derran’s sword connected with his cheek. He staggered away, amazed that he didn’t taste blood.

Opening his eyes, Keelin saw Derran standing in front of him with two swords. It took him a moment to realise one was his own.

“Impressive, br…” Keelin started, but Derran didn’t let up his attack.

They were well and truly in among the tables and chairs now, and Keelin found himself giving ground and struggling not to trip over any furniture. Derran seemed as adept with two swords as he had been with one, and the man gave nothing away. His guard was as flawless as his attacks, and Keelin couldn’t see an opening anywhere.

Blocking a slash from his own sword, Keelin grabbed hold of a chair and flung it at Derran. Derran stepped aside and Keelin lunged towards the opening. His sword never made it.

Keelin screamed as the floor rushed up to meet him, his left leg collapsing. Looking down, he found his own sword wobbling in his thigh. With a grimace and a growl, he tried to drag himself away from his brother.

He hadn’t expected Derran to be so brutal. He’d said they were fighting to the death, but Keelin had thought it just a ploy to get him to fight harder. That his older brother might truly injure him or worse had never crossed his mind. It dawned on Keelin then that he didn’t really know the man in front of him, the man he hadn’t seen for over fifteen years.

“Fuck, Derran,” Keelin shouted as he dragged himself backwards. The sword in his leg was agony, but pulling it out now could do more damage.

Sir Derran Fowl, knight of the Five Kingdoms and world-renowned Blademaster, closed in on him, a blank expression on his face.

“I expected more from you, Keelin,” Derran said. “Not just because you’re known as the best in the isles, but because you’re my brother. Even as a child you showed skill. Where has it gone?”

Keelin winced and glanced at the sword in his leg. If Derran came just a couple of steps further he would be close enough for Keelin to stab him with it.

Derran pulled a nearby chair towards him and sat down. He let out a loud sigh.

“What now?” Keelin said, trying to buy some time. “You kill me and the rest of the town? Five Kingdoms win, and you murdered your little brother.”

“I have no intention of killing anyone else here. I came to test myself against the best swordsman in the isles. Seems I’ve already won. Barely even a fight.”

“Your king…”

“My king is a fool, Keelin. A well-informed fool, but a fool nonetheless.” Derran sighed. “He knows who you are. I should have figured it out myself. There can’t be that many swordsmen with your name. My king sent me to kill my own brother. What sort of man does that?”

“What sort of man follows the order?” Keelin said desperately.

Derran smiled. “I think I’m done with the Five Kingdoms and King Jackt Fucking Veritean. There must be someone in this world who can still give me a challenge.”

“What?” Keelin said, wincing at the pain and still trying to drag himself backwards.

“Perhaps the Wilds.” Derran grinned, fixing Keelin with a steely stare. In that moment Keelin couldn’t see a drop of the boy he’d once known, only the Sword of the North.

“Do you really think you have what it takes to kill an Arbiter?” Derran said.

Keelin was shaking with pain and fear and possibly blood loss. His brother didn’t seem to care. There was no emotion in Derran’s eyes.

“Goodbye, little brother.”

The Sword of the North stood and stepped forward. Keelin winced, but Derran stepped past him and carried on. Keelin felt the last of his strength leaving him, and the world went dark.

Chapter 16 - Fortune

A cheer went up as the last of the soldiers broke and ran for the relative safety of the trees. The pirates didn’t give chase; they were more than happy to let the jungle have the bastards. The little explosive coconuts Kebble had made had done more than just turn the tide – they’d devastated the enemy forces.

The Five Kingdoms force’s biggest advantage had been their training – they’d stuck together in tight formations so the pirates couldn’t get close without being cut down – but that advantage had worked against them in the end. Packed as closely together as they were, the explosions ripped through their ranks and caused equal amounts of death and chaos, and the latter let the pirates cause more of the former.

They’d won the day, though the cost had been almost more than they could bear. Already the wounded were being taken indoors and given over to triage, and anyone with even the slightest experience in the healing arts was being press-ganged into looking after those who needed it. The dead were piling up too, and there were a lot of them. Drake ordered them carted down to the beach so they could set up a proper pyre. Usually he ordered his dead given to Rin, but she wouldn’t accept any who had died on land, and the offering would be more likely to anger than appease the spiteful goddess.

Tanner limped towards Drake. The big pirate was bloodied and ruddy-cheeked, but there was a weariness about his eyes that Drake had never expected to see in his old nemesis. Drake’s own exhaustion had fled the moment the battle was won. He was no warrior – he was a leader, and he knew this was the time he needed to be most aware. There would be plenty of opportunities to grow his legend in the time just after a battle.

“Some of my boys want to go after the fuckers, mate,” Tanner growled, waving away his ship’s doctor, who seemed intent on bandaging his captain’s leg.

“Best not,” Drake said with a shake of his head. “You think your forest is dangerous? Stragglers on Cinto Cena don’t last long, Tanner. Besides, we’ve got plenty of work to do here. Folk need looking to. You should let your man see to that wound.”

“It’s a scratch,” Tanner said.

“Scratches can kill a man just as easily as a good stabbing if the wound ain’t looked after.” Tanner looked exhausted, and it was no surprise given how much of the battle he’d taken part in. Drake wagered if he could just get the man to sit down, he’d be free of him for a good few hours, and in those hours Drake could claim much of the glory. “Sit down and get that bandaged, Tanner. We need you. Can’t have you falling foul of an infection.”

Tanner growled again, but relented and let the doctor lead him away. Drake would have grinned, but he needed to keep the pained expression plastered to his face. He needed the townsfolk to see him as tired as they were and sympathetic to the losses.

“Anyone seen Stillwater?” he shouted.

“Aye,” said a big pirate with plenty of tattoos. “He was in the tavern, fighting his brother.”

“His brother?” Drake hated appearing to others as though he were in the dark, but at this point he well and truly was.

The pirate nodded. “Aye. Stillwater is brother to that Sword of the North.”

That name attracted a good few folk, and Drake was less than surprised. He’d met the Sword of the North once, and the man had been terrifying. Drake had never met anyone so sure of their own ability to murder everyone around them. He’d also seen a Blademaster in action once, and though it hadn’t been the Sword of the North, she’d been like death given form. They moved in a deadly dance, and there seemed to be very little that could stand in their way.

“Anyone carrying a shield or a bow with me, now,” Drake roared, pleased to see pirates and townsfolk alike jumping to his command. “Everyone else keep helping with the wounded.” As he stormed off towards the Righteous Indignation, he was happy to have a good twenty pirates backing him up and less than happy that he was at the front of them. If the Sword of the North was in a killing mood then it was likely that Drake would die first, and there would be little that could stop the Blademaster.

Not wanting to appear hesitant, Drake pushed open the door to the tavern and strode inside, fancying that he cut a real heroic figure. As pirates and townsfolk crammed in behind Drake, it became clear that the Sword of the North had done his damage and left. Tables, chairs, and three bodies were littering the floor, and none of the latter looked to be moving.

Drake took another step into the room. The two bodies furthest away were Five Kingdoms soldiers. The third body was wearing one of the fine blue jackets that Stillwater liked so much, only it was stained with an awful lot of red.

“Check if he’s alive,” Drake said, pointing to Stillwater’s body. He wasn’t about to let his own guard down until he knew the Sword of the North was well and truly gone.

Even inside the tavern and with the noise of twenty people around him, Drake could still hear the screams of the dying outside. It was more than a little unnerving. The tavern was a mess that they’d need to clean up soon. Pirates needed a place to drink, especially after the hell they’d all just been through.

“Get these bodies out of here,” he said, turning away from the soldiers’ corpses.

Tanner came limping into the tavern, followed by his squat-faced first mate and his ship’s doctor, who still hadn’t managed to get the big pirate to stop long enough to bandage his leg.

“He’s alive,” called the woman tending to Stillwater. “Looks pretty badly messed up though.”

If the Sword of the North really was Stillwater’s brother, there appeared to be little love between them – just enough to leave the captain alive.

“Get away from me, ya fussing shrew of a man.” Tanner pushed his doctor away. “Yer old friend Stillwater needs ya fuckin’ poking an’ proddin’ more than I.”

The healer shot Tanner a baleful look, then turned away and knelt next to Stillwater. Drake seethed; he wanted Tanner gone. Unfortunately, now the man was here there was little he could do.

The Oracle had been clear, and insistent. Keelin Stillwater was integral to the creation of Drake’s empire, and Drake had never known his brother to be wrong. Hironous Vance had the sight, the ability to see into people’s futures, and together with Drake’s own gift of manipulation they’d used it to plan the birth of the pirate empire. Drake hated relying on anyone but himself to accomplish his goals, but he needed Stillwater alive.

“Well, doc?” Drake said. “Can you save him?”

The doctor mumbled something under his breath.

“Why are we saving him?” said the big pirate with the tattoos.

“Eh?” Drake turned to the man, who, despite his size, took a quick step backwards.

“He ain’t one of us,” said the pirate. “He’s one of them. I heard him and the Sword of the North talking. They’re brothers. That makes Stillwater Five Kingdoms, one of the fuckers trying to kill us.”

“I heard the Sword ain’t just a knight,” another pirate chimed in. “He’s a noble.”

“Bastard was probably in on it the whole time. He brought ’em here,” continued the tattooed pirate.

The others started murmuring, agreeing that the whole thing was Stillwater’s fault. They were looking for someone to blame for all the death and pain, and the poor unconscious bastard who had helped saved so many of them wasn’t awake to defend himself.

“You reckon he was in on it?” Drake said. “Because of who his brother might be? Seems that same brother left Stillwater skewered with his own sword and bleeding to death right here on the floor of the tavern Stillwater himself helped to build. Hells, the lad didn’t just help to build this place – he helped take down the monstrous ship it was built from.”

A few of those who had been muttering about Stillwater being a traitor all of a sudden found their feet more than a little interesting.

“You reckon he ain’t one of us because he’s from the Five Kingdoms?” Drake said. “Well, then I ain’t one of us either. I’m Acanthian born.”

Drake pointed at a red-haired pirate with a fiery beard. “What about you? Where are you from?”

The man looked a little embarrassed at suddenly being the centre of attention. “Korral.”

“The Wilds then,” Drake said. “Well, that ain’t here, so you ain’t one of us. What about you?” Drake picked a tall woman with hair that looked like it might have been blond had it ever been washed.

“Flinton,” she said.

“Sarth,” Drake cooed. “Weren’t too long ago they were at our doorstep, trying to murder us.”

“I ain’t no traitor,” the woman said quickly, trying desperately to sink back into the crowd.

“What about you, Tanner?” Drake said. “Where are you from?”

Tanner Black held Drake’s gaze for a few moments, probably deciding whether or not to lie. “Larkos.”

Drake smiled. “Another free city, this one in the Dragon Empire.”

Tanner nodded slowly.

“There’s barely a one of us can say we come from the Pirate Isles. We’re an empire of vagrants. Whether you came from nothing or everything, or all that’s in between, we’re all in this together.”

“Can ya save him?” Tanner asked the doctor.

The man grumbled something and nodded without looking up from Stillwater’s motionless body.

“Then do it,” Tanner snapped.

“You need any help?” Drake said quickly, desperate to regain authority.

The doctor barked out a laugh and shook his head.

“Then the rest of you get outside and let the man do his work,” Drake said. “We got plenty of other wounded to tend to, and even more dead to mourn.”

Drake followed them all outside; he would be better served being seen about the town in charge of the situation than locked away in the tavern worrying about one man. The night was cooling off even though there was barely a breath of breeze, and New Sev’relain was a blur of activity. Some people were tending to the wounded while others stripped the dead before carting them down to the beach. The soldiers of the Five Kingdoms were well equipped, and not a shield, sword, or breastplate would go to waste. Even the shoes were being taken from the dead to be handed out to those townsfolk in need.

Plenty of pirates were still standing guard by the half-finished wall, watching the jungle should some of the soldiers come back for a second attempt. Drake doubted they would be so foolish, but it was better to be prepared in case of fools. Drake looked down at the beach and saw a bald-headed man limping towards him. Kebble looked to be in bad shape, but far worse was the body in his arms. Beck’s long blond hair hung down from her head, singed and clumped, and she had more than a few patches of dried blood on her face, jerkin, and trousers.

Drake rushed forwards, and Kebble almost collapsed as he handed the Arbiter’s body over.

“Is she…” Drake started, struggling with Beck’s dead weight.

“Alive,” Kebble said, dropping to his knees.

Drake searched Beck’s face, and saw no signs of her breathing. He tried to think what to do, but his mind came up blank.

“She needs tending to,” Kebble continued.

Drake glanced at the tavern. He could storm back in and demand Tanner’s doctor tend to Beck, but that could mean Stillwater’s death, and he needed the man.

“Captain Morrass,” someone called, and Drake turned his head to see a bedraggled woman with deep brown hair and deeper lines on her face. “This way, Captain. I can see to her.”

He recognised her as the woman who ran the brothel, and hesitated. “You know what you’re doing?”

The woman fixed Drake with a stony glare. “Captain, I have dealt with more banged up women than any of your doctors. I can set bones, clean wounds, and sew better than anyone in this shit hole of a town, and I’ll wager my supplies are better too. If you want her to live, then heel.”

The woman turned and marched away. Drake ground his teeth together, but hesitated for only a moment before hurrying after her.

Chapter 17 - The Phoenix

Keelin opened his eyes to see a familiar wooden roof. He heard the creak and moan of a ship, and footsteps on the decking. He could smell the sea, the familiar salty tang that permeated every aspect of life on the oceans. He had no idea how it had happened, but Keelin was back on board The Phoenix and lying in his own bed. And if he lay really still, he could even pretend he didn’t hurt all over.

It was daytime; he could tell by how well his cabin was lit. Turning his head to see the window would have required a lot of effort, and all Keelin really wanted to do was drift back off to sleep. Unfortunately, his stomach wasn’t so easily appeased, and it chose that moment to let out a growl that would have sent a wolf fleeing with its tail tucked firmly between its legs.

“You’re awake.” Aimi’s voice drifted over, and Keelin lethargically rolled his head to the side. His right shoulder blazed in agony. He ignored it with only a wince to show his discomfort.

“It’s not entirely by choice,” he croaked, realising then how thirsty he was.

Aimi was sitting in the chair behind Keelin’s desk, looking over some papers. She sprang up and grabbed a mug and a clay pitcher. She looked different somehow. Gone were her normal stitched trousers and blouse, and in their place she wore a dark red jacket, a ruffled white shirt, black leggings, and boots that reached halfway up her calf, shiny with polish.

“New clothes?” Keelin said.

Aimi stopped by the bed and poured a mug of water, holding it carefully up to Keelin’s mouth for him to sip. It felt like life running down his throat, giving him new energy.

“I’ve had a bit of time to kill while looking after you. I bought these a while back and spent yesterday altering them to fit better. What do you think?” Aimi took the cup away and gave a twirl. The clothes suited her, and though they wouldn’t be practical for ship-board use, they would certainly catch a few stares around town.

“Beautiful,” Keelin said.

“I bet you say that to all your crew,” Aimi said with a grin.

“How long have I been…”

“Two days.” Aimi refilled the mug and held it to Keelin’s lips again. “Captain Black’s doctor said you would live, so we brought you here. I volunteered to look after you.”

“We won?”

Aimi smiled and nodded. “The town is still standing. We lost a lot of people though.”

“My brother?”

The smile slipped from Aimi’s face. “So it’s true. You’re Five Kingdoms nobility.”

Keelin froze. He had no idea how to answer. He’d kept the secret for so long he thought it was lost. Ever since leaving the Five Kingdoms he’d been pretending to be just another pirate. If his secret was now common knowledge, he could only guess how long it would be before a mutiny removed him from his ship and probably his life. The crew would never follow if they knew where he came from.

“Apparently some folk wanted to kill you. They were blaming you for all of this,” Aimi said. “Drake didn’t let them. He convinced them you were one of us.”

“So Drake survived.” Keelin was more than a little relieved.

Aimi nodded and started towards the cabin door. Keelin tried to push himself up onto his elbows and promptly collapsed. Aimi opened the door.

“He’s awake,” she said. “Go get Morley.” Aimi returned to the bed. “He wanted to know the moment you woke up. I’ll help you up.”

With gentle care, Aimi helped Keelin to sit up and swing his legs over the bed. She then fetched a jacket from his wardrobe and draped it over his shoulders before pouring him another mug of water and leaving it in his left hand. She went back to the desk and back to studying the papers arrayed upon it.

“What are you looking at?” Keelin said.

“Letters from the ship My Salty Wife. After all the soldiers were killed, the ship was taken. Drake found these in a chest, but he doesn’t have time to look them over at the moment. I volunteered for that job too, as I was going to be sitting in here waiting for you to wake up.

“There’s a lot of nothing. It looks like the ship was a passenger vessel used to ferry people of importance from Sarth to the Five Kingdoms. They took her from her captain, filled her with men and pointy objects, and sent her here. There’s a letter signed with King Jackt Veritean’s signet.”

“The king of the Five Kingdoms?” Keelin said, incredulous.

Aimi nodded. “It’s a letter offering a full pardon to any pirate captain willing to turn on their brethren.”

“Bastard!”

A knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” Aimi shouted before Keelin could answer. He kept his face carefully blank, but it irritated him that she assumed such authority in his cabin.

The door opened and Morley walked in, treating Keelin to a smile. “Thought we might have lost you, Captan. I wouldn’t mind a cabin this big.”

Keelin wheezed out a laugh, and regretted it a moment later as it set both his shoulder and his leg to hurting. Morley had been part of his crew for almost as long as Keelin had had a crew, and the man had been both an excellent quartermaster and a competent first mate as well as a loyal friend.

“How’s the crew?”

“Anxious,” said Morley. “We lost a lot of good people in the fighting, Captan. Got a few new members too. New ship’s boy, barely ten years old.”

Keelin glanced over to Aimi. “Congratulations.”

Aimi grinned. “No more scrubbing shit off the side of the ship for me,” she crowed. “Finally get a real share of the loot as well. Not that there is any loot right now.”

“That’d be the other issue, Captan,” Morley continued. “Crew want paying. More so after so many are dead. Barely enough to fill two shifts left, and that’s gonna make it awful hard to take any prey. We need money and people.”

“And food,” Aimi put in. “I’m getting right sick of fish.”

Morley sucked at his teeth and shook his head. “We all eat what we can. Be glad there’s plenty of fish to be ate.”

Keelin sighed. “What about the other captains?”

“All in the same boat, Captan. Everyone has lost a lot of crew. With those bastards run off though, they all think we’re finally safe. Others are looking at leaving. They ain’t running away, but we’re pirates. We should be pirating.”

Keelin nodded. “You’re right. We’ve earned ourselves a little freedom from attacks. Paid blood and lives for it. I need to speak to Drake first, but we’ll go find ourselves a ship to take.”

The door crashed open and Smithe strode into the cabin, slamming the door shut behind him with just as much force. Keelin stifled a sigh and attempted to get to his feet. His left leg, however, was not accommodating, and he promptly collapsed back to a sitting position with a pained gasp. Smithe leered at him.

“Any meeting about ship’s business I should be privy to,” Smithe said. “Especially any that the little bitch gets to sit on.”

“I don’t think you’d like to sit on some of the things this bitch sits on,” Aimi said with a giggle, not looking up from the papers on Keelin’s desk.

Smithe looked confused for a moment, and then a longer moment after. “What?”

“You weren’t missing out on anything, Smithe.” Keelin tried to draw the surly quartermaster’s attention away from Aimi. “Morley was just bringing me up to speed on what’s been happening these last two days.”

“Aye?”

Morley nodded. “Aye.”

“What would the crew say to a spot of good, honest piracy, Smithe?” Keelin said.

“Reckon some money in pockets might not be a bad thing,” Smithe replied, a suspicious look about his face. “Especially if it don’t mean fighting. Reckon some of the boys had enough killing for now.”

“Excellent,” Keelin said with a smile. “We’ll set off as soon as the town is back to some semblance of normalcy and find some poor fuckers to rob blind.”

“Might be worth searching for those bastards over the Sea of Stars,” Smithe said with a greedy grin.

Crossing the Sea of Stars to the Dragon Empire wasn’t entirely what Keelin had in mind. It would take them a fair distance from the isles, and from the young, fragile alliance that Drake had set up. It would also serve to remind Keelin that he was still so far away from his vengeance.

Smithe reached into his jacket and pulled out a large wad of treated leather. “You may have forgotten ya promise to the crew,” he said, crossing the room to Keelin and holding out the object. “I ain’t.”

Keelin had to put the mug of water down to take the piece of leather from Smithe – his right arm hurt far too much to use. It appeared to be a folded sheet of leather-backed parchment, and Keelin had some real trouble opening it out with only the one hand. All the while, Smithe stood by with a smirk on his face. Eventually Keelin placed the thing on his bed and peeled it open. It was a chart, and not one of his. After a moment he recognised the writing as Drake’s, and only a moment later he realised what the chart showed.

“How did you get this?”

“How do you think?” Smithe spat. “Broke into Morrass’ cabin and took it whiles no one was watching. Thought you might have forgotten about it, Captain.”

“You stole it from him?”

“Ain’t that what you was planning to do?” Smithe said. “You promised us riches, Captain. Right here I just delivered you the thing you claimed was stalling us. So how about we fuck off from this little war Morrass is fighting and go get ourselves nice and rich.”

Morley moved over to stand beside Smithe. There was a greedy glint in his eyes that Keelin wasn’t used to seeing. “You did promise the crew, Captan.”

For Keelin it wasn’t about the money. In the Forgotten Empire lay a way to locate Arbiter Prin, and his encounter with his brother had made the vengeance feel urgent all over again.

“I did,” he said. “We sail within the week.”

Chapter 18 - Fortune

Drake looked down at the body on the floor of his cabin and felt a cold rage building inside him. After two days of giving orders, helping to move the bodies of the dead, and regularly checking on Beck, he’d finally given in to the exhaustion. Twice he’d found himself asleep, startled as someone asked for an opinion or otherwise required his attention. He’d decided he needed rest, and there was only one place he was likely to get it undisturbed.

“Must’ve happened during the attack,” Princess said, looking very much like he wanted to be somewhere else. “Fucking soldiers boarded us and we didn’t have much in the way of resistance. Don’t reckon we’d have pushed them off the ship if not for Rag.”

The giant centipede had climbed up Drake’s leg and wrapped itself around his waist almost as soon as he set foot on his ship. Knowing full well how dangerous the beast was, Drake worried about it doing that at times, and it weighed him down – but it also bolstered his courage. Rag’s armour was as hard as steel, and with a venomous bite and razor-sharp pincers, it was a devastating predator of a pet.

“She killed a good three soldiers herself and scared the rest away,” Princess continued into his captain’s silence. “I guess one of those bastards broke in here first though.”

Drake said nothing. He tore his gaze away from Byron’s crumpled form. The image of the simpleton’s head caved in would likely stay with him until the end of his days. Byron had never held a weapon in his life; he’d never even been involved in a fight, as far as Drake knew. Whenever the Fortune and her crew took a ship he always hid below decks. It made no sense that the man had come to Drake’s cabin, and even less sense that whoever had broken in had not only killed him, but made such a mess of the lad as well.

The room was chaos. Drawers had been opened, their contents rifled through and thrown about the place. Drake’s chart cabinet had been broken open and his charts had spilled out, unrolling across the floor. The door to his alcohol cabinet had been smashed open and the bottles broken upon his desk. The window behind his desk had been smashed, no doubt so the culprit could make their escape with Byron’s substantial body blocking the door.

“At least they didn’t set fire to my bed,” he growled.

“I reckon Byron caught them trashing the place,” Princess said. “Lad probably asked them to leave. He was likely even polite about it.”

“They weren’t polite,” Drake said.

“No. Pyres are almost ready, Cap’n. Should we take his body down to them?”

Drake shook his head. “Byron died on the water. We’ll give his body to Rin. Perhaps she’ll have him spend eternity counting seashells, eh?” Drake barked out a laugh, but there was no humour behind it. They’d all lost so many people. He’d never expected to lose Byron.

“I’ll get someone to help move his body,” Princess said solemnly.

Drake nodded, glancing back once more at the simpleton before turning his attention to his cabin. He knew he’d get no sleep while his room was in such disarray, and especially not with the window broken. He doubted they had the glass to fix it here on Cinto Cena, so he resigned himself to boarding it up until they could find someone to repair it properly.

Drake couldn’t help but feel the weight of Rag around his waist as an oppressive burden. He was already exhausted, and the creature was weighing him down. With a tap on its head, Drake ordered Rag to climb down and the beast obeyed, if a little lethargically. Once on the floor it wound its way towards Byron’s corpse.

“Don’t you dare,” Drake hissed, fully willing to drag the beast away if he had to.

Rag paused.

“Away!”

After another moment the giant centipede turned and made for Drake’s bed, crawling underneath and curling up to sleep. Drake envied the beast for that.

The door opened again and Princess walked in with a couple of the crew.

“By her teeth,” Goran cursed, refusing to use Rin’s name even over water. “Poor Byron. Get his shoulders, Collo. I’ll get his legs.”

Collo looked down at the dead pirate and paled. “You get his shoulders.”

“Just bloody do as ya told.”

Drake cleared his throat loudly and sent both pirates a scathing glare. They quickly decided it didn’t matter who picked up which end of Byron’s corpse. After a bit of struggling and a few more curses, they dragged the body from Drake’s cabin.

“Reckon they’re about ready to light the pyres,” Princess said after Goran and Collo had gone. “Might be good for you to attend. Maybe even light them yaself.”

Drake picked up one of the charts spread across the floor. One of Beck’s pistols was lying beneath it. The Arbiter was still unconscious; Drake had made every doctor and every fool that called himself a healer look at her, and they all said the same thing. Her immediate injuries had been treated, but sometimes folk just didn’t pull through. He tucked the little pistol into his belt and put the last of the charts into the cabinet, shutting what was left of the door and waiting to see if it stayed shut.

“Cap’n?”

“I’m coming, Princess,” Drake said. “I hear Stillwater is awake. Send someone to fetch him for me. I’ll meet him down on the beach.”

Chapter 19 - North Storm

Fires were dancing on the shores of Cinto Cena, and the sight made T’ruck’s spirits sink, something he hadn’t thought possible any more. He’d known the soldiers of the Five Kingdoms were planning to attack New Sev’relain, and he’d known he was a good few days or more behind them. He’d hoped to somehow arrive in time to help with the defence. Not that he and his seven crew would have been able to do much.

Sailing a galleon with only seven sailors would have been exhausting, and the North Storm was certainly no galleon. She was one of the biggest ships ever built, and every member of the crew, including Lady Tsokei, had been operating on only a couple of hours’ sleep a day. And each one had performed above and beyond anything T’ruck could ever have expected from them. The surviving men and women had gone from a tight crew to a much tighter family.

When T’ruck awoke after the battle he had found the bloody corpse of Yu’truda lying across him and the witch unconscious by his side. He’d been covered in Yu’s blood; he could feel and smell it on his skin and he could taste it in his mouth. At first he’d been furious at Lady Tsokei. The crew explained she’d given Yu’truda’s life to him, and he very nearly stamped the life out of the unconscious witch, but he was beyond tired and his crew pulled him away and convinced him that it had been Yu’truda’s choice.

T’ruck fancied he could feel Yu’truda inside him. Every now and then he felt a twinge of emotion that didn’t belong. When he consulted with the witch about it, she merely shrugged and pointed out that he was no longer living his life, but Yu’truda’s. T’ruck wasn’t about to begin to claim he understood what she meant. Yet he would be damned if he wasted the gift given to him by the last member of his old clan. He was alone now. The Five Kingdoms had taken everything from him. Every member of his clan, his family, his friends. All that was left was T’ruck and his new family. His ship and his crew.

“We could make a run for Fango,” suggested Pocket. The young man had proven himself both in battle and in the sailing of the ship, and T’ruck had been proud to name him first mate of North Storm. There was still a haunted look about the lad, though. Pocket had seen too much death for his short life, and had been the cause of much of it besides.

T’ruck took in a deep breath, then sighed it out with a shake of his head. “Tanner knows we have sided with Drake. He would take the ship from us and we do not have the crew to stop him.”

“We have Nerine,” Pocket said.

The lad had become quite close with the witch since they’d taken North Storm. T’ruck didn’t know the extent of the relationship, but the more ties the woman had to the ship and crew, the more T’ruck trusted her.

He shook his head again. “That would serve no one, lad. If I am to waste our lives, I would do it crushing the skulls of Five Kingdoms pigs, not fighting our own. Besides, we need help clearing the bodies from the ship before the rats mutiny.”

They’d been sailing ever since taking North Storm, and were lucky they hadn’t run across another ship or foul weather in that time. The crew had had very little opportunity to clear the dead from the bowels of the ship, and while the smell had been rancid for some time, the risk of disease was becoming a real danger. T’ruck had one thing to say for the bodies that littered his new ship, though – they were keeping the rats away from the food stores. Why chew into a barrel when there was dead flesh aplenty, just lying around?

“Those are big fires,” Pocket said. “Looks like the whole town is burning.”

“The choice has been made,” T’ruck rumbled. “If we are to die today, we will make it glorious.”

“Aye, Captain.”

As the ship sailed closer, the pirate taking a turn in the nest, a woman by the name of Coral, scuttled down the rigging at a dangerous pace and ran across the deck towards T’ruck. He glanced at her before turning his attention back to hauling in the front sail.

“I see four big fires and a fuck load of ships, Cap’n,” Coral said, her voice whistling through a gap in her teeth.

“Ours or theirs?”

“Hard to say,” Coral said easily. “It’s a bit dark, Cap’n. Don’t look like the fires have touched the town though. They’re all on the beach.”

It wasn’t long before T’ruck could make out the faint shapes of ships in the bay. Between the fires and the moonlight they were well lit, and he recognised the hulls of both The Phoenix and the Fortune.

They sailed North Storm right into the south bay of Cinto Cena. He’d never realised how large the bay was until it swallowed up his giant of a ship. They’d been spotted, there was no mistake about that; T’ruck could see hundreds of folk scrambling about on the beach.

They lowered the anchor and then a dinghy into the water, and T’ruck ordered everyone aboard it. He would leave nobody behind for now. He set a brisk pace, rowing with the help of Pocket and Durance, and made Coral stand at the front of the dinghy and wave a white square of cloth in the air.

As the little boat drifted up alongside one of the free piers, T’ruck found a small host of bows and spears pointed towards him – but they were held by pirates, not soldiers of the Five Kingdoms. It didn’t take long for the weapons to be put away as T’ruck and the few surviving members of his crew were recognised.

Amidst congratulations and cheers, T’ruck departed the dinghy with his crew behind him and they were escorted from the pier. He found Drake, Keelin, and Tanner Black crowded around a small fire.

“Captains,” T’ruck said with a nod.

“T’ruck, you insane bastard,” Keelin Stillwater said. “We thought you were dead.”

T’ruck’s gaze drifted around the fire, coming to a sudden halt on the white-skulled face of Deun Burn. “You!”

Drake Morrass was up from his seat in a moment, placing himself between T’ruck and the filthy Riverlander. “Calm it down, Captain Khan,” Drake said, a dangerous note in his voice.

“He sent us into a trap.” T’ruck could sense the remaining members of his crew at his back, and there was anger there too.

“Wasn’t him,” Drake said, waving his hands in front of T’ruck’s face. T’ruck glanced down at him. “Was the other dumb bastard Riverlander, and he’s been… dealt with.”

T’ruck clenched his jaw so hard it hurt, his eyes darting from Drake to Deun Burn. “I would see his body.”

“They ate it,” Drake said quickly.

T’ruck stopped cold. “What?”

“Show him the face,” Drake hissed to the Riverlander.

Deun reached for the bag on his belt and pulled out a patch of leather, unfolding it and holding it up to the firelight. There were tattooed scales on the leather, and T’ruck had to admit it did look a lot like the face of the Riverlander who had sent them to die. The rage drained out of him as quickly as it had appeared, and T’ruck found himself tired and in desperate need of a drink, which Tanner Black handed over. T’ruck found it hard to believe that Drake had succeeded in gaining the alliance of Captain Black, yet here the man was and, judging by the smell of burning bodies, they’d only recently fought off the Five Kingdoms invaders.

“How did you do it?” Stillwater said, his voice full of awe. “How did you take that monster fucking ship?

“With just twenty-two of us,” T’ruck rumbled.

A murmur ran through the crowd, and only when T’ruck looked up did he realise how many folk had gathered. It looked like everyone. His own crew had collapsed onto the sand behind him, and even now he could tell that some of them were asleep already. Unfortunately he wagered it would be some time before he would find the sweet bliss of unconsciousness.

T’ruck told them then of how North Gale had been sent into a trap, and how they’d taken one of the ships before Storm Herald smashed into their midsection, splitting them in half and sinking them. He told them how he and his crew had been plucked from the water only to be thrown in the brig to languish until they reached the Five Kingdoms, where they were to be hanged. He told them of his escape and freeing the crew, and he told them nothing of the witch. His crew were sworn to secrecy; Lady Tsokei’s powers were to be revealed to no one. T’ruck told them little of how they’d taken the ship, only that they’d moved from cabin to cabin, murdering hundreds of men.

One of the other captains laughed when T’ruck said they must have killed a thousand soldiers, but he just stared at the man and challenged him to check the ship and the bodies that were still inside it. When T’ruck was done, Drake gave his own story, spinning a tale about how they’d guessed the attack on New Sev’relain was coming and had started preparations, but the losses had still been great.

T’ruck asked about Captain Damien Poole, and a new sadness washed over the crowd. Drake claimed Poole had been a true hero, and that he’d sacrificed himself to give the others time to get away from Ash. T’ruck would have found it hard to believe the man had even a drop of courage, and even harder to believe Poole would sacrifice his own life.

“We got a bit of a problem,” Drake said eventually. “People.”

“Reckon we got a few problems, mate,” Tanner barked.

“We need fresh blood,” Drake continued, ignoring Tanner. “Not just for our ships. For the town as well. We’ve lost too many of us already.”

“Ya want us to start breeding, do ya?”

Again Drake ignored Tanner. “We also need to start pirating again. Bastards sailing through our waters have been left too long, unharassed while we’ve been running and hiding. No more. From now on we travel in packs, and we take every fucking ship we can find. Merchants, navy, slavers…”

Another murmur ran through the crowd.

“There’s no money to be had from slavers,” Keelin said. The man’s arm was in a sling, and his leg was stretched out awkwardly in front of him.

“I don’t mean to take them for money,” Drake said. “I want you to take them and free the poor buggers in the holds.”

The crowd got louder.

“We need people more than money or food or weapons or anything else right now,” Drake shouted, loudly enough to silence the folk around him. “Reckon most folk who wear a collar would welcome a chance at freedom here on the isles.”

“You’ll be starting a war with the slavers guild,” Keelin said, quietly enough that only those nearby could hear.

“No,” Drake said with a shake of his head. “We’re just laying down the rules. Anyone – anyone – who wants to sail our waters has to pay. Slavers have had free passage for far too fucking long. I also need someone to sail to Larkos. Talk to the guilds, ask them for help.”

“I’ll go,” Keelin said quickly. “I have some contacts in Larkos that might be able to help.”

Drake looked torn for a moment, but nodded. “Good. This war ain’t won yet. Next time they come, they’ll come with everything they have, and we need to be ready. We need to meet them in the water, and we need to sink every last fucking one of them.”

Part 2 – All Hands on Deck

There will be a traitor in your midst said the Oracle

Who said Drake

Someone who was once an ally said the Oracle

Chapter 20 – Land's End

When the door to his cell opened, Daimen started. After days upon days upon days at sea, followed by a long stint in a gaol cell, he’d just about decided the bastards had all but forgotten about him. He fully expected them to parade him about the city before tying a rope around his neck and giving him the drop he deserved. As far as Daimen was concerned, he did deserve it.

His crew were dead. Every single one of the poor bastards, and it was all his fault. He’d led them into death, promised them a rescue that never came.

A right fancy looking man walked into the cell. He was followed by a giant of a knight dressed from the neck down in shiny steel and carrying a metal spear that looked as though it weighed as much as Daimen himself. The fancy one wore a dazzling blue suit and carried a sword at his hip, his posture suggesting he was well used to the weight of it. Daimen had seen a fair few aristocrats in his time, and he’d have happily bet his right testicle – the smaller of the two – on the man being noble born.

“Captain Daimen Poole,” the fancy man said in a fancy voice. There were no chairs in Daimen’s cell, only a small cot lined with straw and a bucket, so the man stayed standing. “My name is Jackt Veritean.”

Daimen laughed. “Fuck off, are ya.”

The man frowned, and Daimen had to admit it looked a very royal frown, but he wasn’t about to believe the king of the Five Kingdoms had climbed down off his golden throne to talk to one shipless pirate.

“I assure you, Captain Poole, I am…”

“Do ya see a ship round here anywhere, mate?” Daimen said. “Perhaps it’s in me bucket sailing on a sea of my shit? No? I ain’t captain of fuckin’ anything no more.” Daimen paused before adding, “Ya Majesty.”

The man who called himself king stared on with impressive patience. Daimen had a knack for grating on folks’ nerves, and he wondered how long it would take this man to learn it.

“Daimen Poole, I assure you I am Jackt Veritean…”

“Best keep ya royal distance then, mate. You’re in a cell with a dangerous pirate, don’t ya know?”

“I assure you, I am quite safe from any sort of attack you might be able to muster,” the king said with an air of confidence. Daimen looked from the sword at the man’s hip to the big knight with the spear, who looked unconcerned by the whole situation. “Believe it or not, I am trying to save your miserable life.”

Daimen laughed again. “Thought ya said ya were king. Don’t take much ta save my life, mate. Just don’t kill me.”

“If only things were so simple.” The king smiled. “You’re a pirate. Self-confessed and guilty of a number of crimes. I must admit, when the list was relayed to me I stopped listening after the tenth or so. Suffice to say, by Five Kingdoms law you should be hanged until you are dead.”

“Best get on with it before the rats decide to steal ya chance. They keep coming back for a nibble no matter how many times I chase ’em off.” It wasn’t even a lie; Daimen had a number of little bites from the pests, and it was likely because he smelled like ten-day-old carrion.

The king sighed. “I’m told you sailed your ship right into mine. My captains tell me it was a suicidal manoeuvre to stop them going after Drake Morrass and the others. You sacrificed your life, your ship, and your crew, all for Captain Morrass?”

“Amazing, the sort of shit a man will do and sacrifice for his king, eh?” Daimen couldn’t keep the bitter edge out.

Jackt Veritean nodded, smiling. “As are the things a king will do for his kingdom. Do you believe in Drake Morrass?”

Daimen met his eyes. “Aye, I do.” It was only half a lie. Daimen had believed in Drake. He’d believed Drake was the only man the isles could unite behind. And he’d believed Drake would sail in and save him, his ship, and his crew. Instead the bastard had turned tail and left Daimen and all his men to die.

“Would it shake your belief to know that this war we are all currently fighting was by his design?”

“Eh?”

“He came to me, your king, with a plan to rid myself of you and all the other pirates. It was true my merchants had been requesting aid against your brethren for some time. However, I had no way to deal with you, no way to find you. Drake changed that. He came to me with charts, and upon those charts were the locations of a number of your little towns.”

“Ya full of shit, mate.”

“I offered him lands and a title in return for the deaths of all the pirates inhabiting your Pirate Isles, and he agreed. He told me to start with a town called Black Sands before moving on to any of the others, claiming it was some sort of lookout town. An early warning for the rest, unless it was promptly burned to the ground. My allies in Sarth jumped upon the chance.

“Of course, Drake disappeared, and I have since learned that a number of the other locations he’d noted on his chart were false. Why do you think he would do that, Captain Poole?”

Daimen bit his tongue to stop himself cursing.

“I believe Drake Morrass wanted me and my allies in Sarth to attack Black Sands. I think he wanted us to attack the Pirate Isles. I think he wanted all you pirates terrified and running to him for salvation.”

“Yer a fucking liar,” Daimen said, with less conviction than he would have liked.

“I don’t think you believe that, Captain Poole,” the king said, pacing around the cell. “If you were willing to sacrifice yourself for Drake Morrass, then you must know him fairly well. Tell me, what would he be willing to sacrifice to convince you people that he should be wearing a crown?”

Daimen thought about it. There was no way anyone should have found Black Sands unless they knew it was there; it was hidden from all directions but one, and that one was well away from any sort of safe trade route. The Five Kingdoms and Sarth ships were sailing the isles like they knew them, instead of gutting themselves on rocks or crashing into hidden sandbanks. There was little that could explain it quite like a well-maintained chart.

“He betrayed you all,” the king of the Five Kingdoms continued. “You trusted him, and he betrayed you and left you for dead. You sit here rotting in a cell while he claims himself a king of the very people he plotted to murder.”

“That ain’t…” Daimen started. “Ya got any proof?”

King Jackt stopped pacing and shook his head. “I don’t think I need any, Captain Poole. If you need to ask for proof, then I think we both already know how much you truly trust Drake Morrass. You know he’s capable of the crimes I’m laying at his feet, and more than just capable – you know he committed them.”

Daimen hated it, but the bastard was right. Drake was more than capable of sacrificing an entire town to his machinations, and he’d been at Black Sands just after the massacre took place. He was the first to bring news back to Old Sev’relain, and he was the first to jump on the tragedy and start gathering folk to his flag. As soon as Black Sands was destroyed, there were some folk who suspected Drake had had a hand in it, but he managed to not only allay suspicions but use them to his advantage. It turned out they should all have kept on suspecting.

“Why are ya telling me this, mate?” Daimen said. “Ya want me to repent my allegiance just before ya hang me?”

The king shook his head. “I don’t want to kill you at all, Captain Poole. I want to offer you the same thing I offered to Drake. Lands and a title. I offer you legitimacy in return for helping me crush Morrass and the rest of the pirates.”

“Ya want me ta help ya murder all the folk of the isles?” Damien said, caught between disgust and rage.

“Not at all. I couldn’t care less about the backwards towns that infest the Pirate Isles. I have been targeting them only because I had no other course of action. If the decimation of you pirates can be achieved with minimal bloodshed of those not involved, then that would be my preferred method. Which is where you come in.”

The king paused. “You know the isles, and you know the captains. I would have you help me hunt them.”

“Turn on my fellow captains to save my life?”

“Save your life. Save yourself the pain of weeks of torture. Secure yourself a future, Captain Poole.” The king’s voice was stern. “And all you have to do is help me catch those who abandoned you. I’ll give you a day to think on it.”

“What happens if I say no?”

“The penalty for piracy is death by hanging, Captain Poole, and you are most certainly guilty.”

Chapter 21 - Starry Dawn

Larkos wasn’t just a free city; it was more like a small kingdom ruled by thirteen different sets of laws depending on which region you visited. It sat on the eastern edge of the largest, most powerful empire in the known world, and it resisted all attempts by that empire to engulf it. Elaina loved the idea of Larkos as much as she loved the look, smell, and feel of the place.

Ships nestled in the harbour like gulls fighting over a floating carcass, and Elaina spotted a fair few she recognised as belonging to known pirates. She looked out over the bay, but soon stopped counting the number of masts – there were simply too many. One of the joys of the free cities was that they didn’t care whether goods were obtained illegally; the merchants of Larkos were far more interested in how cheaply they could buy the loot than where it came from.

The weather was chilly so far north, and Elaina had chosen a heavy black jacket to wear over her blouse and britches. The jacket reached almost to the deck and gave her a distinctly menacing air that she’d helped along with a touch of dark powder around her eyes and a charcoal bandana to hold her hair in place. She would walk into the city as the proud daughter of Tanner Black, looking like a true pirate lord, and demand the assistance they needed from the guilds that ran the place.

“Ready to go, Cap?” her quartermaster, Alfer Boharn, said in his gravelly voice. She’d chosen to take the old Five Kingdoms veteran ashore with her because he had a few connections within the guild of Clerics. He was also as steady as a rock no matter how dicey the situation might become. Not that Elaina expected any trouble.

“Aye,” she said with a smile. “Rovel, you have the ship. See about hiring on a couple of new crew, eh?”

“Aye, Cap,” Rovel said. Elaina’s first mate had been outspoken of late in his desire for some good old-fashioned piracy. Unfortunately, Elaina had her orders from her father, and Tanner had decreed that she would take no ships on her diplomatic mission. Whether that was to speed her journey or ensure her arrival, Elaina didn’t know, but she knew better than to disobey her father with so much at stake.

Wandering down the gangplank with Alfer just behind her, it occurred to Elaina that none of her crew had asked for shore leave. It was true enough that they had only a few bits each to their name, but she wondered if the lack of piracy in the last few months had dulled their physical desires. Perhaps she would lounge around in Larkos’ port for a couple of weeks and give her crew an advance, to show them how much she appreciated their patience.

A number of merchant assistants had already crowded around the pier, and they were busy trying to get Elaina’s attention, no doubt clamouring to find which goods she’d procured and how cheaply they could procure them from her. Most of the assistants were fat, well-dressed, and sweaty despite the chill in the air. Elaina ignored them all and instead looked towards the harbour master, who was lounging on a nearby stool, a small ink-tipped feather pen walking across his fingers.

“Name?” the harbour master said without looking up.

“Elaina Black.”

“Odd name for a ship,” he said with a chuckle that no one nearby took up. “Still the Starry Dawn, is it?”

“Aye.”

“Do I need to ask your profession?”

“Ambassador,” Elaina said.

The harbour master laughed. “I’ll put that down just because of how absurd it sounds. Length of stay?”

“Couple of weeks, I reckon.”

“Two silver bits now and another twenty upon departure.” The man finally looked up from the pen walking across his fingers. He gave Elaina a wide grin and set about making notes in his book. He was a handsome young man, and sure of himself. Elaina considered taking him back to her cabin and convincing him he had nothing to be so sure about, but she had more pressing matters.

“Who’s in charge of the docks these days?” Elaina said as she reached into her purse and pulled out a couple of silver bits.

“Still the Clerics.” The harbour master stopped his jotting and leaned back in his chair, looking Elaina up and down with a grin. “At least for another couple of moons. That’s why the price for docking has gone up. They’re squeezing out as much coin as they can while they can. Never know where they might be next.”

Elaina nodded along. Larkos had a strange set of laws designed to equalise the power of the thirteen guilds that ran it. The city was split into thirteen districts, twelve public and one central one closed to the general populous. Each of those districts was governed by one of the guilds, and every five years the whole system was shaken up. For five years the Clerics had held the docks, one of the most profitable of the districts, but in just a short time they might find themselves running the slums or the Breakers, and there was very little coin to be made in either of those.

Once a week the representatives of the guilds met in the central district and the Council of Thirteen decided upon any matters of importance. That was where Elaina would need to be heard, and the best way for her to get in would be as an invited guest of the guild that ran the central district.

“Who’s in charge of central?” she said.

“The Blades,” the harbour master said. “I could knock five bits off your docking fee for a couple of… favours.”

Elaina looked down him. He leered back up at her. “I could cut your empty head off your fucking shoulders for free,” she said with a grin.

He shrugged. “Your loss.” He went back to walking his little feather pen across his fingers. Elaina conquered the urge to grab it from him and snap the stem.

The city was bustling with life. The sheer size of Larkos put most cities to shame, and even Chade was small in comparison. Slaves were everywhere, either carrying goods to or from ships or standing around as their masters haggled and secured trade. Despite the chill in the air, the poor bastards were afforded no more clothing than they were when the sun was baking down, and Elaina wagered their iron collars got right uncomfortable in the cold.

The merchants were as easy to spot as their slaves. Even those who weren’t overweight and sagging were obvious in their finery. The docks were a place for sailors, and sailors rarely wore anything other than linen. The rich folk in their silks and other expensive fabrics were somewhere beyond obvious, and that made them pretty targets.

Thievery and other criminal enterprises were as ubiquitous in Larkos as they were in any city, and the punishments for being caught ranged from severe to final. The Clerics were fairly light-handed in dealing with criminals, and often a thief could get away with a flogging and some community service. Other guilds were less forgiving, none less so than the slavers guild, who would simply slap an iron collar on a criminal no matter how severe their crime. It served them both as a method of punishment and a form of income.

“Where to, Cap?” Alfer said. “Wouldn’t mind me some downtime if we find ourselves with some spare.”

“Ever been to Larkos, Alfer?” Elaina asked her quartermaster, already knowing the answer.

“Aye,” Alfer replied with a laugh. “Don’t reckon there’s many places I ain’t been.”

“Then you should know the chance of having time to find yaself a brothel is somewhere south of low. I’ve got one destination, and that would be the central district. I need to win myself an audience with the Queen of Blades.”

Alfer let loose a laugh, but quickly stopped at a glare from Elaina. “Fuck. I really hoped you might be spinning a tale, Cap. That Drurr bitch don’t see anyone.”

“She’ll see me,” Elaina said, setting her jaw and starting the long walk.

The sky had turned dark, and folk were busy lighting street lamps by the time Elaina and Alfer reached the wall that separated the central district from all the others. They’d long since passed out of the docks, and though Elaina had seen a good few Clerics, she’d had no cause to talk to any of them.

A large barred gate lay in front of them, with a wall extending from it that curved around out of sight. The central district was completely separate from the rest of the city, and very few even knew what it looked like within those walls. As they’d approached, Elaina had been able to see the tops of many buildings, and the guild hall used by the Council of Thirteen was without a doubt the largest of those, but they gave little indication as to the state of the rest of the district.

There was a small guard hut nearby, with a number of shadowy figures inside. In front of the gate stood no fewer than four Blades, resplendent in sky blue steel armour and each carrying at least four swords. It was well known that the Blades were trained in a style of combat used by the Drurr, and it was strictly forbidden for those styles and techniques to be taught to outsiders. The Queen of Blades was one of the few Drurr that the Inquisition allowed to live among humans. Elaina wondered if such a privilege was due to a deal struck, or simply the Inquisition’s fear of starting a war against the free city.

“Perhaps we should come back when it’s light, Cap,” Alfer said quietly. “Ya know, so there’s a few more witnesses around.”

“Scared they might kill us just for asking?” Elaina said with a grin.

“Fuck yes, I am, Cap. What’s to stop them?”

Elaina thought about it for a moment, but couldn’t come up with a single thing. The guilds ran Larkos how they saw fit, and she had no doubt they weren’t above a spot of murder.

“They wouldn’t dare,” she said eventually. “Me da would tear this place down to its foundations.”

Alfer snorted. “Ya da’s one man. This here is… Shit, I can’t count anywhere close. There must be more folk in one bloody district than the entire of the isles.”

“Stop ya whining, Alfer, and look surly. Ya know, dangerous. Like ya could take ’em all if ya wanted.”

Elaina strode up to the gate and the Blades guarding it, fixing a smug look on her face. A woman in sky blue steel stepped forward to meet her, one hand on the hilt of a sword and the other held out in front of her to stop Elaina’s advance.

“This is the central district, ma’am,” the Blade said with a kind smile. “I must ask you to turn around and leave.”

“Now that’d kinda defeat the point,” Elaina said, returning the smile. “I’m here to see ya Queen.”

“Then I am afraid your journey has been wasted. The Queen of Blades does not see anyone.”

“Now I know that’s a lie,” Elaina said.

Another of the Blades stepped forward, hand on sword hilt, while a third jogged over to the guard hut. All the while the woman who had stopped Elaina remained in front of her, and her brown eyes never shifted. A few moments later three more Blades stepped out of the guard hut and approached. They were clearly well trained, taking no chances when it came to possible intruders.

“Again, I must ask you to leave,” said the Blade, her hand still out in front of her to stop Elaina moving any closer.

“Don’t I even get to make an appointment?” Elaina said, realising for the first time she may have gone about things the wrong way.

“The Queen of Blades does not see anyone,” the woman repeated.

Elaina ground her teeth together, but getting angry wouldn’t get her anywhere. She decided on a different course. “Then how about you get a message to your bloody Queen, eh? Can you do that?”

None of the Blades said anything; they all just stood still and silent.

Elaina snorted out a laugh. “Ya tell her the future queen of the Pirate Isles wants to have a word, and we’ll see if she don’t see anyone. She can find me on my ship.”

Without waiting for a response, Elaina turned and strode away. She was beyond angry, but that rage wouldn’t serve her. Right now she needed to act with diplomacy.

They passed back into the docks district a fair time later, and Elaina let Alfer lead her to a tavern he knew to be frequented by a number of Clerics. She found a secluded table and brooded over a single flagon of piss-poor ale while her quartermaster reacquainted himself with some old friends and made a few overtures towards those in higher positions.

A handsome older man with a shock of grey in his close-cropped hair and a scarred jaw that served as testament to a number of brawl participations sat down opposite Elaina. The man had a winning smile and had brought with him a bottle of rum, which he pushed towards her. She hadn’t even finished her ale, but she took the rum and drained it by a mouthful. The fiery spirit did nothing to lift her own spirits, so she pushed the bottle back towards the man and glared at him.

“Beautiful women should not be forced to drink alone,” he said with a smile.

Elaina snorted. The only fool who had ever called her beautiful was Keelin. Desirable was something else though. “Ain’t forced if it’s my choice,” she said. “So fuck off.”

The handsome man held up his hands, then pushed the bottle back towards Elaina. The smile never left his face.

“I will leave, and leave you the bottle, Captain Black. And also tell you that your presence has not gone unnoticed. If the Queen of Blades will not grant you an audience, then the Nightborne will. I do hope you will consider us favourably.”

The man bowed his head, a sign of respect Elaina hadn’t expected, and stood. She found herself in a state of confusion. The man – a Nightborne emissary, she assumed – had sounded like he was trying to curry her favour. Elaina had never been given such a reception before; in fact, she was used to operating under relative anonymity. Her name had always carried some weight, once she let people know it, but it had always been her father who had given it that weight.

“Cap,” Alfer said as he wandered over, thumbing at the Nightborne, who was making towards the tavern door. “Anyone we should be worried about?”

Elaina thought about it for a moment before shaking her head. “Quite the opposite, I reckon, Alfer. He might just be our way into the Council.”

“Which guild?”

“Nightborne, apparently.”

Alfer sucked in a breath that whistled through a gap in his teeth. “Don’t go siding jus’ yet, Cap. Clerics are interested too. All ya need to do is strut up to the guild hall and knock, and Brother Hernhold will see you his own self. Ain’t many get an audience with the head without even asking.”

“Ain’t been here a day, and I’ve been turned away by one guild only to have two others come sniffing around.” Elaina drained her mug of ale as she tried to puzzle it all out.

“Guilds don’t offer nothing for free, Cap,” Alfer said. “Each one’ll want a piece of ya.”

Elaina sniffed, then grunted her agreement. “Might be there’s others want that piece too. Grab that bottle, Alf. Reckon it’s best we head on back to the ship. See who’s been about.”

As dawn started to peek up over the horizon, Elaina found herself standing on the docks, staring out towards the rising sun. Her feet hurt like all the Hells from the walking, but she didn’t give one drop about the pain. Her ship was gone.

Elaina and Alfer had arrived to find Starry Dawn missing from its berth, and the harbour master – not the same man as before – had simply shrugged and told her to bugger off. Frustration and fear had made her rash, and the harbour master had found himself sprawling on the ground with a couple of loose teeth. He’d crawled away, threatening to call the Clerics, and Alfer had quickly offered to find out if their ship had simply been moved. It was pointless. Elaina didn’t need Alfer to confirm the truth for her. Her ship was gone.

The rising sun set the gentle waves of the bay on fire, and the sea looked like burnished gold. On any other day Elaina might have thought the sight beautiful. Today she couldn’t appreciate it. For the second time in her life she’d had a ship stolen out from under her.

“I need you to come with me, ma’am.” Elaina didn’t bother turning to look at the female Cleric. “You have assaulted a Larkos official, and that’s a crime here.”

“Whoa, whoa there,” shouted Alfer. He sounded out of breath. Elaina didn’t look at him either. “Just a misunderstanding, I assure you.”

There was a pause. “That woman assaulted…” the Cleric started again.

“That woman is Captain Black,” Alfer wheezed out. “Believe me when I tell you Brother Hernhold wouldn’t look favourably on ya if ya throw her in a cell, eh?”

“Cap,” shouted another voice, and a moment later Four-Eyed Pollick appeared. His cheeks were flushed and his right eye was swollen almost shut.

“Who was it?” Elaina growled. She squinted as the sun, now rising above the horizon, became so bright it hurt.

“Rovel,” Pollick said. “Near as soon as you were out of eyesight, he set about a mutiny. Convinced the crew they was better off under a pirate.”

Elaina turned a furious gaze on her crewman. “And what the fuck am I then?”

Pavel, the ship’s priest and doctor, walked up next to Pollick. Elaina turned her stare on him as well, but he didn’t look cowed. The bastard probably believed his golden god would save him from harm.

“This is all that’s left?” Elaina said. “Out of my entire fucking crew, you two are the only ones that didn’t mutiny?”

Pollick dropped his eyes to the deck while Pavel gave a sympathetic smile that Elaina wanted to remove with a slap.

“Cap,” Alfer said quietly. “Reckon I got ’em calmed, but we need to get off the docks. They ain’t happy with the scene.”

Elaina turned around, and for the first time saw how big a crowd she had staring her way. Merchants, slaves, sailors, Clerics, whores, and good folk, and all of them were watching her.

“All ain’t lost yet, Cap,” Alfer whispered.

“But my ship is,” she hissed.

“Ain’t we here to convince the Council to give you more ships?”

Alfer was right. If she could get ships from the Council of Thirteen then she could go after Starry Dawn and take her back. She would gut Rovel and feed him to the beasties of the deep. But if she was to convince the Council, she needed to bargain from a position of strength, and having lost her own ship she was in a decidedly weak position.

“Find us an inn, Alfer,” she said quietly. “We might be here a while. One way or another, I’m getting a new ship from this fucking city.”

Chapter 22 - Fortune

Beck closed her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. When she opened them again, they were set with determination. She raised her right arm and aimed her pistol at the target, a splotch of paint on an empty wooden barrel.

Her arm shook. Her hand shook. Her pistol shook. She pulled the trigger.

The sand behind the barrel accepted the bullet with silent indifference.

“Shit,” she said quietly. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” She raised her left arm and aimed a second pistol.

The centre of the target splintered as the bullet burst through the barrel. Beck dropped both pistols onto the cloth she’d spread on the ground and spun around, dropping onto her arse in the sand and staring out at the sea. The sight of the endless blue gave her no relief, only made her homesick for the crystal clear canals of Sarth.

It had been a good two moons or more since the attack on New Sev’relain, and still Beck was feeling the injuries she’d received. Her right arm was weak and weary much of the time, and occasionally took to hurting for no reason the doctors could fathom. The bruising had faded, as had the swelling around her ribs and face, but she still had a couple of ugly burn scars on her arms. And her hair… Beck had always liked to keep her hair long, but the fire had burned much of it away and her scissors had cut away even more. What was left barely reached past her ears, and it seemed to have lost its golden shine. For a woman who liked to pride herself on her appearance, the scars and her ruined hair were almost more than she could bear. Beck knew that scars faded and hair grew back, yet it brought her no solace. To make matters worse, she had no idea whether her right arm would ever regain its strength.

A slight breeze picked up, blowing through her blouse and cooling her skin. Beck took in a deep breath and picked up a familiar scent on the wind.

“Good morning, Drake,” she said without looking his way. It was strange – she couldn’t look at the man without feeling guilty for something she hadn’t even done. It was why she’d thrown herself so wholeheartedly into the defence of New Sev’relain, and it was why she hadn’t fucked the captain since their return. Beck knew he wanted it, and she wanted it too, but the Inquisition had given her new orders, and those orders were going to cause Drake pain.

“How’s the arm?” Drake said. Beck hadn’t told him about her problems, but the man was too damned perceptive for his own good.

“How’s the crown?” she shot back.

“Heavy,” Drake conceded. “Can’t really call it a crown just yet though. Any fool with a slip of land and a few mouths to feed can call himself a king. It takes recognition to really sit a throne. I need Sarth and the Five Kingdoms to recognise us as legitimate, not just a bunch of criminals to be stepped on.”

Drake sat down in the sand next to Beck, and she couldn’t help but notice him staring at her cleavage. The man could be subtle when he wanted to be; he could also be as blatant as an open wound, and Beck wagered that was also by design.

“Nice secluded spot you found here,” Drake said.

Beck readied herself for an argument she didn’t want. “Tell me about the Drurr.”

Drake went from hot to cold in an instant, and Beck could feel his frustration. But some things were more important than the pirate’s feelings, and she needed to know how much he knew about the Drurr.

“Ain’t important,” he said sullenly. “Nice way to kill the mood though, eh?”

“It is important, Drake. As far as we know, you’re the only person ever to have escaped the Drurr. You’ve… seen things. You probably know more about the Drurr than anyone. We need to know what you know.”

“We,” Drake echoed with a bitter laugh. “You mean the Inquisition?”

“Yes.”

“You have a way of contacting them?”

Beck said nothing. The Inquisition’s methods of remaining in contact with their Arbiters had always been kept secret. Arbiter Darkheart severing their old lines of communication had only made the Inquisitors even more determined to secrecy with their new methods.

“Well, I don’t give a fuck what your Inquisition wants, Arbiter,” Drake said. “But if it’s you who wants to know, then ask away.”

There were a hundred questions the Inquisition wanted her to extract the answers to. There were some Beck wanted to know herself.

“The matriarch. Who is she, and why is she after you?”

“Did you know the Drurr used to rule over us like slaves?” Drake said. “At least, until the Dread Lords broke their civilisation and your Inquisition hunted them nearly to extinction. You drove them all underground, but you far from finished them off. It’s fair to say they ain’t too pleased about their current standing in the world. Most of them would like nothing more than to rise up and crush us all beneath their heels for a second time.

“But they can’t do that. Life is hard underground in the dark places the Drurr inhabit, Arbiter. There are things down there. Monsters your Inquisition hasn’t wiped out yet. They walk right out of the walls and snatch children from their beds. Some of them digest their food before eating it. Folk still alive with their skin melting…”

Beck glanced sideways at Drake. Tears were welling up in his eyes. She’d known her questions would cause him pain, but she’d never thought to see the man cry.

“They still take slaves,” Drake continued. “Pretty much as many as they can. For the most part the slaves are given the worst jobs. Mining out new areas, harvesting the fungi, scouting out the darkness when new tunnels are unearthed, feeding the trolls, being fed to the trolls. Pretty much anything the Drurr don’t want to do themselves, or anything deemed too dangerous to risk a Drurr life.

“The matriarch who…” Drake trailed off, and for a while said nothing. “The bitch who owned me was a sadistic fuck. She liked to pull the odd slave from the deepest, darkest of jobs and treat them with kindness. Make them grateful to her. She wanted to make them love her. Then she’d have them tortured. Nothing permanent – she wanted her pets whole.”

Drake shuddered, and Beck resisted the urge to comfort him.

“She’d torture them, then save them and treat them kind, like a lover, to make them love her again. Then she’d send them back for more torture. I reckon it was some sort of game to her. See how many times she could break a person before there was nothing of them left. I saw people kill themselves by biting open their own wrists just to escape the cycle of torment. Never saw anyone try to kill the bitch though. They all loved her too much, I guess. Despite what was done.” He sniffed loudly and fell silent.

“How did you escape?”

“Not all Drurr are evil fucked-up bastards bent on slaving and torturing us lesser folk. There’s plenty of them ain’t like that, and they find some of the things the others do as deplorable as we do. I managed to find one of these sympathisers and convinced them to help me escape.”

“What about the other slaves?”

“What about them? This ain’t like the Black Thorn’s liberation of Solantis, Arbiter. I couldn’t just open a few cages and tell the slaves to fight for their freedom. I sneaked out as quietly as possible and never looked back.”

“What is it like underground?”

“Dark. They don’t use torches. Instead they mine these crystals and infuse them with some sort of magic that makes them glow. It’s a soft light, reaches a fair ways, but it’s far from bright. After a few years underground the sun is… blinding. And if you ever find yourself without one of those glowy crystals…” Drake paused and let out a bitter bark of laughter. “The darkness is complete, and there’s things down there that come out when it gets that dark. Things that whisper and click and purr.

“Folk are kept in pens, like sheep. They get let out when their services are needed, like mining. The trolls do the digging, but they ain’t exactly suited to delicate work, so the Drurr use slaves to mine the tunnels once they’re dug. They use slaves to collect the shrooms too. It’s pretty much all they eat, and there’s whole caverns dedicated to growing the rubbery things. Strange thing is, some of the shrooms have a glow all of their own, light up the cavern. The shroom caverns would probably be the safest place down there if not for the Choomar.”

“Choomar?”

“It’s a Drurr word. Doesn’t really have a translation, but the Choomar are… aggressive shrooms. They’re edible like the others, but the Drurr don’t eat them – they try to eradicate them. The Choomar look just like dark-root shrooms, almost exactly like, but they release spores that grow inside of a person and control them. Folk start acting strange when they’re infested. They walk and talk pretty much like normal, but they start doing odd things when they think no one’s watching. They gnaw on their own digits and scratch themselves bloody, like they got an itch that just won’t quit. Then they start to get violent. Only against the Drurr though. I never heard of a Choomar-infected slave attacking any of the others.

“I once saw one of the poor bastards leap at a passing patriarch, biting and clawing until a couple of guards pulled him away. They started beating on him, and he screamed bloody murder and then his head just popped.”

Beck glanced at Drake. His expression was deadly serious. She knew just how loose the pirate liked to play with the truth, but there were some things a person couldn’t fake, and reliving the horrors of his life underground seemed to be one of them for Drake.

“What about the Drurr,” she said. “How do they live?”

Drake smiled. “Like kings and queens. They build great caverns underground, hundreds of feet high, and their homes are built into the very walls all the way up to the roof. The matriarchs and patriarchs live the highest, and those in favour live close to them. The closer to the ground you are, the less important you are.

“Sometimes, while she slept, I used to stare out the window at the great cavern of Bolimar spread out below me. The little lights on the cavern floor where traders made their wares, the fighting pits where slaves were fed to trolls for the amusement of their owners. From up high it was beautiful.” He sighed. “Why the questions all of a sudden, Arbiter? You’ve been content without the answers for a good long while, yet now you’ve a pressing need to know.”

“I believe they’re here,” Beck said before she could stop herself. “The Inquisition has spies all over the world, and some have reported seeing a Drurr corsair sailing the waters of the isles.”

Drake’s jaw set, and he turned hostile eyes on Beck. “How long ago did you hear about this?”

“A few days,” she admitted.

“And you’re just telling me now.” He snorted. “Only one reason the bastards would come here.”

Drake launched to his feet and started walking down the beach. Beck gathered her dropped pistols and rushed after him. “Where are we going?” she said.

“To find them before they find me.”

Chapter 23 - Starry Dawn

Things were moving quickly for Elaina. It had been just one week since she’d arrived in Larkos, and one week since the traitorous cur, Rovel, had stolen her ship out from under her. In that week she’d met with four of the thirteen guilds.

Brother Hernhold was first. Elaina had no wish to become his ally if she could help it. The Cleric was as pious as his guild name, as was every single one of their order. They worshipped Pelsing, the golden god of the Five Kingdoms, and every aspect of their lives was given over to worship or earning gold, which happened to be one of the forms of worship.

Hernhold had extended a gracious offer to introduce Elaina to the Council of Thirteen as his very own honoured guest, and claimed he would back her bid for aid in the form of both ships and men. The problem with men who worshipped the golden god, as far as Elaina knew them, was that everything was a business transaction and they gave nothing away for free. She had no doubt the Clerics could, and would, help her, but they would extract a hefty price for that aid sometime in the future. If there was one thing life as a pirate had impressed upon Elaina, it was that it’s always best to take as much as possible without giving anything back.

Elaina’s second offer of help had come from the Nightborne. Their leader was Red, an Acanthian woman with fiery hair and not an ounce of fat on her. She was slim and no taller than Elaina, but she appeared to be made all from muscle, sinew, and bone. She talked in a distant, emotionless voice, and regarded Elaina in much the same way she imagined a dragon would regard a goat. Elaina had taken an instant dislike to the woman and the guild she represented.

The Nightborne were notorious for their questionable rituals, and Elaina had even heard rumours they drained the blood of the criminals they arrested to be served instead of wine at their banquets. The Nightborne had offered Elaina a deal very similar to the Clerics’, but also threw in deep connections to the Guild in Acanthia. It was a sweet deal, and no mistake. But despite their power and prestige, Elaina wanted nothing to do with the Acanthian Guild.

On the third day of her stay in Larkos the leader of the Red Hands came to her himself. Terk Ferrywold was a brute of a man who walked around topless, despite the chill, in order to show off his muscled, well-oiled chest. It wasn’t a fashion Elaina found attractive. The man appeared to be all bluster. He ordered drinks for the entire tavern and a hearty meal for himself and Elaina. She’d picked at the food while Terk stuffed as much meat down his throat as he was able, all while attempting to impress upon Elaina the importance and power of his guild.

The Red Hands ran the Moon district, a large and wealthy housing area just west of central, and they were no doubt both rich and powerful, but Elaina didn’t agree with their leader’s need to shout about the impressiveness of his own guild. Terk had offered Elaina ships and men, and the God Emperor of Sarth’s head upon a pike. He’d also suggested that he and Elaina seal their deal amidst the silken sheets of his bed. Elaina had resisted the urge to beat him senseless with her tankard and agreed to think about his proposal. In truth she would rather have sided with the pious Clerics.

The fifth day in Larkos brought with it an emissary from the slaving guild. He was a huge man, as fat as he was tall, and he was certainly tall. He waddled into the tavern surrounded by guards who were no doubt needed to protect his obvious wealth. The man wore gemstone rings on every finger and had a variety of piercings all over his face, each ring and stud sporting a hefty jewel. The fat man announced himself as Orkus Uon, ambassador and messenger of Somolous Tain, the head of the slaving guild. Elaina despised those who traded in flesh, but she couldn’t afford to make any enemies among the Council of Thirteen so agreed to hear Orkus out.

The slaving guild were unique amidst the others, in that Larkos wasn’t their only place of operation. They had holdings in almost every major city in the known world, except those that outlawed slavery, and the connections and manpower they could give to Elaina eclipsed those of any of the other guilds. But Orkus didn’t offer to help win the pirate’s war so much as make veiled threats over what would happen if Elaina picked any of the other guilds. The slavers could make for excellent allies, but they could also make for very dangerous enemies. Despite the threat, Elaina couldn’t bring herself to take help from those who peddled flesh.

On the sixth day, an emissary from the Blades walked through the tavern door. The boy was tall and slim with a bald head, and had a slight chubbiness that suggested he hadn’t yet finished his growth. He greeted Elaina warmly and informed her that the Queen of Blades had requested her presence. Elaina grinned at the boy and stayed in her seat, determined to make him wait while she finished her breakfast and ale. The Queen of Blades had turned her away once, and Elaina would be damned before she went running just because the bitch had changed her tune. Rather than show frustration at the delay, the emissary stood by and waited patiently.

When Elaina finally decided it was time to meet the leader of the Blades she called for her four remaining crew and sent them on their errands. Pavel would meet with the Clerics again – they paid good coin to hear sermons from a travelling priest of their golden god, and though Elaina hated to admit it, they needed the bits. She sent Alfer to the gate district to meet with the Scarred Men and broker an audience with the Scarred Man, and she had Pollick sitting on the docks to watch the ships sail in. The man had the sharpest eyes of the lot of them, and Elaina needed to know the moment anyone they knew sailed into port.

The Blades emissary had two horses waiting outside the tavern and bid Elaina mount one as he easily swung his arse up onto the other. Elaina followed suit, and before long they were moving through the streets of Larkos at a canter, heading ever more steadily towards the central district where the Queen of Blades held court.

When they arrived at the same gate Elaina had so recently been turned away from, the young emissary leapt off his horse to exchange words with the guards. Elaina didn’t hear what was said, but there seemed little to no argument and this time the gates opened for her, revealing the central district for the first time.

Elaina wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but the central district wasn’t it. The streets were empty and clean, and most of the place appeared to be open land given over to green gardens of grass or cobbled squares built around central podiums. Of buildings she saw little other than warehouses, a few houses, and a lot of temples built tall and proud to a variety of gods. Elaina even recognised one dedicated to Rin. It was hard to miss the spectacle floating on its very own saltwater lake – to build a shrine to the sea goddess upon solid land would be an insult the bitch would likely take personally.

In the centre of the district – and indeed the centre of the city – stood the great guild hall, the meeting place of the Council of Thirteen. Elaina found herself staring up at the giant building in wonder. It was larger than the grandest temple she’d ever seen and its curved walls were supported by many stone struts, almost like legs, that peeled away from the building to plunge into the ground. At the far end, a single tower rose even higher into the sky. The tip of it was flat, and Elaina wagered the view from that point was spectacular. When viewed from a distance the great guild hall looked much like a scorpion, poised and ready to strike at the unwary. She wondered what it looked like on the inside, what sort of treasures were hidden within, ripe for a bit of plundering.

The emissary turned them away, towards a smaller structure built all of white marble. A wall surrounded the grounds of this new building, and a number of guards patrolled leisurely around the outside of that wall. As they passed through an open gate, Elaina saw the grounds were festooned with small gardens, pools of still water, and odd bird-feeding devices. Never having paid too much attention to birds, Elaina could only name a few, and there were many more she couldn’t hope to identify here. Some bathed in pools while others fed, and even more flew around the building or rested upon the white stone.

Another boy, not quite as tall but obviously of a similar age and also with a bald head, rushed out of the building and took hold of the emissary’s horse. Elaina leapt down from her mount and the boy led both horses back out the way they’d come.

“This way, Captain Black,” the emissary said with a smile. “I believe the Queen will see you right away.”

“I should hope so,” Elaina said, following the lad through the arch that led into the building. “Already been turned away once, eh.”

Inside, the building was white and spotless. Green plants as tall as Elaina grew in pots near almost every wall, and those not adorned with the vegetation sported benches, a few of which were occupied with folk looking so serene it sent shivers up and down Elaina’s spine. A number of doorways led off to rooms on each side of the hall, and at the far end there was a pool with ten people lounging about in its crystal blue waters. The place seemed more like an upmarket pleasure house, the type a person might find in Sarth, than the hall of one of the most prestigious guilds in Larkos.

“So where is she?” Elaina said, eager to hear what the Queen of Blades had to say and just as eager to be away from the place.

“I will let her know you have arrived, Captain Black,” the emissary said. “Please wait just a short while.”

Elaina snorted, trying to give the impression she didn’t care. She’d never felt at home in places like this, and she included the whole city in that sentiment. The Blacks were all born to be aboard a ship, and surrounded by wood holding back water was where Elaina would always be most comfortable. She loved cities like Larkos for the freedom and distractions they offered, but she loved them in small doses.

“Captain Black,” said a voice that passed through Elaina like the tingle she got from a good finger of rum.

Elaina turned to find a tall woman in a green dress that hugged her figure and left nothing, not even the knives sewn into the fabric, to the imagination. Where some women might wear a fur about their shoulders, this one wore a wreath of blades all shining and, Elaina wagered, razor sharp. Even the woman’s jewellery was shaped in the fashion of little knives. Elaina wondered how many people would die if she took to a dance in a crowded room.

Yet it wasn’t the vast amount of weaponry – including a long, slender sword buckled around her waist as well as all the knives – that convinced Elaina this was the Queen of Blades. It was her face. Elaina had only ever met one Drurr before, but the man had left an impression – and so did this woman. She was beautiful – not just the type of beautiful that turns heads, but the type that breaks hearts with a mere glance. Elaina felt a strange sorrow simply from looking at the Queen of Blades, and she knew that if she could just get closer to the woman, if she could just earn her approval, that sorrow would turn to unbridled joy. At a closer look, the Queen of Blades’ face was distinctly Drurr. Her skin was too pale and too tight across her cheeks and nose, and her mouth was too wide and contained too many teeth. Her eyes were beyond dark; they held no colour at all, only bottomless black. Her hair cascaded down her back over the wreath of blades, and seemed to change colour as Elaina stared; one moment it was almost as dark as her own, and the next it was a shining red like freshly spilled blood.

Elaina realised she hadn’t spoken – she hadn’t even breathed – since she’d looked upon the Drurr. She let out a ragged breath and then quickly sucked in another lungful. Her eyes felt moist, and they weren’t the only part of her. Elaina’s heart was racing, and she just wanted this woman to love her.

“Captain Black?” the Queen of Blades said.

“What is this?” Elaina’s voice quavered, pathetic. She wanted to drop to her knees and worship the woman. Only her pride stopped her. She was the daughter of Tanner Black, and she would worship no one. Elaina clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms, using the pain as an anchor against the wave of love that was attempting to sweep away her sanity.

“It is a glamour, and quite a powerful one,” the Queen of Blades said with a wide smile that enhanced her beauty despite the wolfishness of it. “I’m impressed you are able to withstand it.”

Elaina wasn’t sure what a glamour was, nor was she certain she was withstanding it. Her mouth felt dry, and she couldn’t even blink her eyes for the fear that she might miss a moment of the Queen’s grace.

Elaina staggered and tore her eyes away from the Drurr, furiously blinking away her tears and struggling to get her breathing under control. Her heart hammered in her ears, her knees wobbled, and her stomach was ripe with the fluttery feeling she got every time she saw Keelin.

Straightening her back and taking a deep, calming breath, Elaina looked up at the Queen again. The woman was still beautiful – there could never be any doubt of that – but the crushing feeling of love was gone. Instead, Elaina felt sadness at the loss of such a deep adoration. She had no idea how the Drurr could do such a thing, but she hated that any person could have so much power over her emotions.

“What did you do to me?” Elaina shouted, unable to control her rage. Her hand went to her sword hilt before she realised what she was doing.

“I would advise against any acts of aggression, Captain Black,” the Queen of Blades purred. “I assure you, you would not survive it. It was magic both subtle and blatant all at once.”

Elaina barely understood a word the woman was saying. “How dare you!”

“I dare that and much much more, Captain Black,” the Queen said, her voice now cold and heartless. “It was a test, and it pleases me that you passed where countless others have failed. Now, I understand you are currently a little on edge. Would you like a moment to calm yourself? We have much to discuss.”

Elaina shook the cobwebs from her head and glared at the woman. She wanted to tear the Drurr’s head off and tear down her entire guild while she was at it, but common sense won out.

She shook her head. “Then we’d best get to the discussing. Don’t you dare use that glamour shit on me again.”

“And exactly what would you do if I did?” the Drurr said with a wide, toothy smile. “You are entirely at my mercy, Captain Black.”

“I ain’t at no one’s mercy, and you’d do well to curry my favour rather than coerce it.”

The Queen of Blades laughed. “I like your fire, Captain Black, but I negotiate how I will regardless of your preferences. Come, let us take a seat while we discuss. Would you like some wine?”

Elaina would have liked to decline the offer, but her throat was dry and she needed a drink to fortify her nerves. She nodded and followed the Drurr into one of the chambers to the side of the hall. This new room appeared to be an aviary of sorts, with birds of a hundred different kinds littered about the place, some caged and some not. A hole in the roof allowed them to fly free if they wished – at least, those not in cages – and a number of the winged beasts were sipping from a small fountain that bubbled away merrily in one corner. In the centre of the room was a low, ring-shaped bench. The Queen of Blades moved over to it and gestured for Elaina to join her.

“Birds, huh?” Elaina said, still trying to control her emotions. “My ma has monkeys. Lots and lots of monkeys. She treats them like they’re all old friends.”

“I like birds,” the Queen said. “They have a grace and attentiveness that very few other animals do. Their variety and individuality are akin to our own and…”

“Our own?” Elaina said. “You mean Drurr or human?”

“Both,” the Queen said with a smile. “We are far more alike than you realise, Captain Black. Ah, the wine is here. I own the vineyard, so I can assure you it is of excellent quality.”

Elaina accepted the glass from yet another pudgy boy-like man and sipped at it. The taste was pleasant, but she wasn’t the type of person who could tell the difference between good wine and poor. She preferred her drinks in the form of fiery rum or bitter ale whenever possible.

“I’ve been offered ships and the men to sail and fight aboard them by four other guilds,” Elaina said, wishing to get right into the negotiations so she could be away from the Queen of Blades as soon as possible. The woman’s beauty was a constant reminder of the false love Elaina had felt, and the absence of that love felt very much like a broken heart.

“Straight to the point. You pirates are direct. I have some questions for you first, Captain Black. When you requested an audience, you introduced yourself to my Blades as the future queen of the Pirate Isles.”

“Aye,” Elaina said. It had been a rash claim. The idea had grown on her since leaving Chade, and she’d decided that Rose was right; Elaina would make an excellent queen of the isles. More than that, though, Elaina had realised it was something that she wanted.

“And how can you be queen when you do not even have a ship?”

Elaina had prepared herself for the question. “My ship is away on my business. It will be back when I need it.”

The Queen of Blades let out a chuckle and sipped on her wine. “That lie may convince some, Captain Black. Should I still be calling you captain? But you will not pull the blanket over my eyes. The Starry Dawn did not leave Larkos by your leave and is not currently under your command.”

“Just a temporary setback,” Elaina said, dropping the bluff immediately. “She’ll be back under my boots soon enough. It don’t change my position one drop.”

“Hmmm. And what of Drake Morrass? I hear he is first in line for the pirate throne.”

“Morrass is dead,” Elaina said quickly. “Killed on Ash. My da is ready to plant his arse on the throne, and I’m the heir.”

“You are woefully misinformed, Captain. Drake not only survived your father’s little trap, but also convinced him to take a knee. He has yet to officially claim a kingdom or his crown, which I must say has me a little confused.”

Elaina clenched her jaw. She couldn’t imagine her father kneeling to Drake, nor even working with him. If the Queen of Blades was telling the truth it meant things must have gone sideways, and she now wondered what sort of place she would be sailing back to once she reclaimed her ship.

“Do you still claim yourself to be the future queen?” the leader of the Blades said, with a slight lift of her eyebrow that only served to make her look even less human.

Elaina shifted on the bench. She could drop her claims now and look even more foolish, or she could stick to her course. Confidence had always been one of her strengths, and she refused to look weak to the Drurr bitch.

“Aye. I got the backing of the Wilds. One way or another, you’re looking at the queen of the isles.”

“The backing of the Wilds? I assume you are speaking of the Lord and Lady of Chade?” The Queen tilted her head, the motion sending her hair shimmering into a strange shade of blue.

Elaina nodded with a smirk.

“Quite the endorsement. The bloodeds’ days are numbered, and it appears nothing will stop Rose and her Black Thorn uniting their lands. They have supplied you with sufficient leverage to take the throne beside Morrass?”

“Aye, they gave me… eh? Beside Morrass?”

“The king will need a queen, no?”

“I ain’t marrying that slimy sack of rat gut,” Elaina all but shouted, and then drained off the last of her wine in one angry swallow. She’d been so certain Drake was dead, so certain she’d return as Tanner Black’s heir.

The Queen of Blades sipped at her wine and watched Elaina silently. She’d already decided she wanted to be queen of the Pirate Isles. Ever since Rose had suggested the possibility to her, it had been a constant desire playing on her mind. If she was queen, then her father would have to respect her, and she could order that twice-damned first mate of his hanged for his previous crimes against her. She would be able to take Keelin as her husband too, if she decided she still wanted him. Elaina knew she could have everything she wanted if she could just get her own arse on the throne. She took a deep breath and released it slowly, attempting to calm herself. She plastered a smile on her face and met the Queen of Blades’ black eyes.

“It seems you have reached a decision,” the Drurr said, with no small amount of amusement.

“Aye,” Elaina said. “I’d fuck Morrass to sit beside him on the throne. I’ve already got the Wilds’ support, and I want Larkos’ too. So how about you go and sell yourself to me, eh? Tell me why I should pick you over the other guilds.”

The Queen of Blades smiled wide, showing off far too many teeth. “I prefer to discuss what you may offer to me.”

“I offer the same thing as to any of the guilds. Unhindered passage through our waters, the support and friendship of the isles in times of crisis, and first pick to your guild of any of the wares that my people bring to Larkos.”

“That is no small offer,” the Queen said seriously. “This is all dependent on your ascendency to the throne?”

“Aye. You’ll be backing me, not the isles. So why the fuck should I choose you?”

The Queen waved to her attendant, who quickly came forward and refilled the wine glasses. “I can offer you something the other guilds cannot, Captain Black. I can offer you the support of Larkos, not just one of our guilds.”

“Ain’t that what they’re all offering?”

“No. Make no mistake in my fellows’ offers. They will give you the support of their own guilds and whatever forces they can muster – likely a single ship, or maybe two – but only two of us have the power to cajole the rest of the Council into unified action – the Scarred Man, and me.”

“So what’s to stop…”

“The Scarred Man will not see you. You have already sent him one request, which he has ignored, and he will continue to ignore any further attempts. More rigid than rock is that one, and often I believe him carved from it. He will, however, respond to my advances. We have an arrangement, and between us, and those allied with us, we can sway almost any vote at the Council. No other guild can claim the same.”

Elaina made a show of sipping at her wine and regarding the Queen of Blades over the glass. She already knew she would choose the Blades as her ally. She’d known it from the moment she sailed into Larkos. They were powerful, they controlled the central district, and her father had specifically told her to gain the Blades’ favour.

“Reckon we have an accord,” she said with a grin.

“Excellent. There is a Council meeting in just a few days, as I am sure you already know, and I will escort you along as my guest and back your request. We shall see just how much support the other guilds are willing to give you, but I expect it will be more than the ten ships you secured from Rose.”

“I never told you how many ships Rose offered me,” Elaina said.

“No, you did not.” The Queen of Blades smiled.

Elaina continued to sip at her wine as the Queen instructed her on how she should present herself to the Council of Thirteen. It dawned on her that she’d just agreed to marry Drake Morrass, before he himself knew anything about it. Worse, though, was that she’d just agreed to marry Drake Morrass. Still, once they were wed and her arse was well and truly polishing the pirate throne, there was nothing to stop her king from having a tragic accident.

Chapter 24 - The Phoenix

“See anyone we know?” Keelin said as they floated in the bay, waiting for a spot to open up. It seemed Larkos was in a busy period, and every berth was currently in use either for loading or unloading. They had a hold full of pirated loot and a burning need to get it sold before some of it spoiled.

“Depends on your definition, Captan,” said Morley. “I see the Bloody Bride.”

Keelin knew the ship well. It had belonged to Arip Winters until the fool docked in Solantis during the slave uprising. Nobody knew if it was angry slaves or mercenaries attempting to flee the chaos, but someone had busted their way onto Arip’s ship and slaughtered him and half his crew. A couple of months later the Bride sailed into Fortune’s Rest under the command of a drunkard and his five friends. Drake purchased the ship for just a few bits and gave command to his first mate, Zothus. Keelin wondered how much of the rigging was made from the silk spun by that horrific giant spider Zothus kept around. He shuddered just thinking about it.

A small dinghy made its way towards them, rowed by four iron-collared brutes who looked a lot like rowing was their sole purpose in life. In the back of the boat, steering it, was a bored-looking young man with a ridiculously pointed beard and the air of someone who thought he was in charge of something.

“Ho there,” Keelin shouted down as the dinghy bumped against the hull of The Phoenix. “What can we do for you?”

The man with the pointed beard rose easily to his feet despite the rocking of the dinghy. “Are you the captain of this vessel?”

“Aye.”

“We have a berth opening up soon, but I’ll need to inspect your cargo before I can assign it to you.”

“By all means, come aboard.” Keelin turned to Smithe, who was lingering nearby. “Get the barrels of spice moved to the galley’s food stores quickly, then show the leech everything in the hold.”

Smithe frowned for a moment before breaking into a grin. He ran for the nearest hatch below, recruiting a few of the crew as he went. The surly quartermaster almost seemed a different man since he’d brought Keelin the chart of the seas around the Forgotten Empire. Keelin would never trust the fool, no matter how competent he became at his job, but at least Smithe was tolerable these days, and he truly did seem to have the crew’s best interests at heart.

The inspection went much as Keelin had expected. First the inspector looked around the hold and noted down goods and numbers in his little book. Then he asked how The Phoenix had come by the goods, and Keelin took great pleasure in telling the man of the ships they’d robbed. The tax the inspector laid down on them was extortionate, but Keelin knew full well what time of the five-year cycle it was, and the Clerics were no doubt busy extracting every bit of coin they could from all those who docked at Larkos. Luckily the most valuable cargo they were carrying was the spices, and of them the inspector found not a trace.

They were promptly towed into their assigned berth, and merchants appeared to browse the pirated items before the ship was even tied off. Keelin let them all aboard and held an auction for the less valuable goods. He always found it best to let the fools bid against each other with little to no involvement from himself. After the auctions were done, he invited some of the richer merchants into his cabin to discuss the prices of his more exotic items. Aimi accompanied him, because her head for numbers was impressive, as was her attention to detail. She’d long since taken over the job of keeping the ship’s books up to date.

After they’d found a buyer for the spices, Keelin gave Smithe permission to hand out the ship’s pay – ten silver bits per sailor. The crew seemed more than happy, and well they should; it was almost twice as much as most pirates would have received for their part in the taking. Smithe organised which of the crew had first, second, and third chances at going ashore, and for the first time in as long as Keelin could remember, everyone seemed pleased.

Watching Aimi depart the ship with Jojo and Feather and a number of other pirates, Keelin took in a deep breath of the salty air of Larkos’ bay and steeled himself for the next, and most important, job of his stay in the city. Unlike his crew, Keelin wouldn’t have the luxury of relaxing ashore; he was here for work.

The day was just starting to darken when he summoned Kebble and Morley to his cabin. He had three cups of rum ready and waiting when the two men entered. Kebble had miraculously made a full recovery from his injuries at the battle for New Sev’relain, despite the doc pronouncing him dead on at least one occasion. Morley, on the other hand, wore his scars on the inside, and it was clear to Keelin that his first mate was letting doubts about his captain creep into his heart.

“Sit down and take a mug,” Keelin said.

Morley glanced at Kebble suspiciously. Though the marksman wasn’t a true member of the crew, undertaking none of the responsibilities or duties for sailing the ship, he’d proven himself an excellent warrior and an invaluable man to have around. Even Morley couldn’t deny that.

“Drake tasked me with finding folk to sail and fight and settle on our isles,” Keelin said once both men were sitting and sipping. “Now, he reckoned my best bet was to appeal to the guilds, try to make them support us. I ain’t doing that.”

Morley smiled. “’Bout time ya started thinking for yaself again, Captan.”

Keelin let the insult slide. “I’ve got a better idea. I’m going to buy the people we need.”

“What?” Morley snapped.

Kebble remained damningly silent.

“Captan,” Morley continued once he’d glanced sideways and seen the dark expression on Kebble’s face, “ya can’t mean to participate in slavery. Ain’t a man in the isles would forgive you for it, least of all Morrass. I may not like the man, but his policy on slavers is something we should all look up to.”

“I ain’t looking to turn slaver,” Keelin said loudly, fixing both men with a stare. “I’m looking to turn liberator.”

“Eh?” Morley said.

A sly smile spread across Kebble’s face.

“I figure we buy the folk from the slavers guild, sail them down to the isles, and tell them they’re free to do whatever the fuck they please. They can hop the next ship going anywhere, or they can help us build and help us fight. I’m saying we give them the chance to start life anew and build something for themselves with us.”

Morley drained his mug and reached for the bottle, pouring himself a large portion that just so happened to empty the bottle. Keelin smiled as he opened his drawer and took out another. Lubrication could only serve to help his argument.

“Thoughts?” Keelin prompted when it looked like neither of the men was going to say anything.

“Slavers guild don’t take kindly to folk freeing their property,” Morley said.

“I intend to make them no one’s property,” Keelin said.

“Kind of the point, Captan. Even once they’re bought, slavers don’t like folk freeing slaves. Bad for business. The isles got a fuck load of freed slaves already – more might raise the bastards’ ire.”

“I reckon that ire is likely already raised, Morley. Drake ordered our lot to start pirating the slavers to free their cargo.”

“One more reason not to visit the slavers guild, Captan.”

Keelin sighed. “I’m hoping news of it hasn’t reached them yet.” It was a circular argument at best.

“How will we get them to the isles?” Morley continued. “You promised the crew the next stop would be riches beyond imagining. I don’t think they’ll take kindly to more delays.”

“Next for us is the Forgotten Empire, Morley. I haven’t forgotten, and nor do I intend to change that plan. I will hire ships to transport the folk we purchase to the isles. I may even be able to convince Zothus to accompany them.”

Morley sat back in his chair, sipping at the rum. His face was caught between outright refusal and the need for the plan to work. He knew as well as Keelin that there was no better way to get the reinforcements they needed.

“Kebble?” Keelin said.

“A sound plan,” Kebble said as he smoothed down his moustache. “Far more likely than convincing the guilds of Larkos to help. Their time of change will soon be upon them, and it is past unlikely any of them will stick their necks out for us, even should we throw Drake’s name around. The slaving guild has polluted this world for far too long, and any move to undermine them should be welcomed.”

Both Keelin and Morley were staring at Kebble. “Uh, right. Just what I was thinking,” Keelin said. “Are we agreed then?”

“Is it required, Captan?” Morley said.

“Well, I’d like you both to come with me to the slavers guild. Backup and a united front, I reckon.”

“Aye,” said Kebble.

Morley chewed on his mug for a moment before nodding. “Aye, Captan.”

Aimi followed along behind the crew, happy to hang at the back with Jojo. She’d been to Larkos before, but never as a woman. The last time, she’d been posing as a ship’s boy, and that presented a whole different problem in the form of her crewmates buying her time with a whore and expecting her to do the deed.

Aimi had taken the woman to a room and, once the door was firmly closed, explained her situation. Luckily the whore was quite accommodating, and if anything seemed pleased that all she had to do to earn her pay was sit and do nothing. They’d chatted for quite some time until someone started hammering on the door. The whore arranged herself on the bed like she’d just received the best fuck of her life, and Aimi opened the door to find her crew cheering and whooping. She received quite the reputation after that for being hung like a particularly well-endowed horse. The memory brought a smile to her face.

The folk they passed gave the pirates a wide berth, all except those attempting to sell them junk, and plenty of stares were levelled their way. Sailors weren’t uncommon on the docks of Larkos, but the crew of The Phoenix were new and that garnered attention. Some folk wondered if they would cause trouble, while others wondered how well they could deal with trouble. It was always the same with pirate crews in civilised ports.

“Stick with us,” Jojo said quietly. “Pirates alone are easy pickings for authorities and thieves alike.”

“It ain’t my first time,” Aimi said. She caught the eye of a tall man dressed in a robe with a heavy cudgel hanging from his belt.

“The Clerics are a lenient bunch when it comes to punishment, but not so much when it comes to crime,” Jojo rasped. “They would happily arrest us all for little to no offence.”

Laughter broke out from a couple of the crew ahead of them, and Feather dropped back, a wide grin on his face.

“Usually it’s tradition ta buy the newest member of the group a good fuck,” Feather said to Aimi. “But it’s been decided that might not please the Cap’n too well, given that he seems to want you all to himself.”

“It might not please me either,” Aimi said with a scowl. “Any of you dumb fucks think of that?”

The laughter from up front fell silent.

“How about a tavern instead,” Aimi continued. “First round is on me.”

That got her crewmates cheering and laughing again, and Feather gave her a friendly punch on the arm. Aimi looked over at Jojo to find him smiling at her.

“That was well done.”

The group turned towards a nearby tavern with a giant anchor resting outside the door. Aimi narrowed her eyes at Jojo. “Never seen you go ashore before,” she said.

“You’ve not been with us for long, and never out of the isles before,” Jojo countered.

“Still…” Aimi sniffed loudly. “The Cap’n send you?”

Jojo smiled.

“I don’t need looking after.”

“I agree,” Jojo said.

“But Keelin doesn’t.”

Jojo shrugged as they arrived at the doorway to the Anchorage. “It’s not my place to say what the captain thinks.”

Aimi felt her mood sour a little. She wasn’t some dainty lass who had never got her hands dirty, and she knew full well how to look after herself. She’d survived for years among pirates, first as a boy and then later as a woman, and not once had she got herself into any trouble she couldn’t get herself out of. Except for that one time with Captain Ollo’s left boot, but Aimi didn’t truly count that one as it had only been half her doing.

The tavern was large and loud and well lit, with a crackling fire and plenty of lamps to show just what sort of clientele frequented it, and one and all they looked salty. Some looked up at the newcomers, while others were either far too occupied with their own business or far too occupied with their own unconsciousness. The bar was long and polished to a shine with a bear of man standing behind it. Behind him were row upon row and stack upon stack of kegs. Aimi had seen the inside of a fair number of taverns, but never had she seen one so well stocked. Each keg had a name scrawled upon the wood, and they ranged from the flamboyant to the downright ridiculous. She decided right there and then that she would try Yellow Maid of the Sea before the night was out.

The crew shuffled over to a couple of empty tables and claimed them for The Phoenix. A musician picked up a lute and started to play as the first round of drinks arrived, and before long they were all drinking and talking. Feather even gave them a taste of his dancing skills, though the man behind the bar scowled at the boy for jumping up onto the table. The conversation was free and easy, and Aimi found herself joining in more often than not. It seemed the crew of The Phoenix had accepted her just as she had accepted them. They worked their way through a good number of tankards, and as their purses got lighter, their voices got louder.

“Cap’n knows what he’s doing,” said Fremen, the navigator. By all accounts the man had been with Keelin from the very beginning and placed unlimited trust in him.

“Captain’s an arse,” Aimi said loudly, and waved her tankard around the room to make her point. She was angry at Keelin for sending Jojo to look after her, and finding it a little hard to shake that anger.

“You’d know,” Jotin said with a wink.

“I do know,” Aimi said. “I know better than anyone.”

Jojo placed a hand on Aimi’s arm, but she pulled away.

“We’ve known the Cap’n for longer,” insisted Fremen. “Hells, even Feather’s known him longer. Probably like to know him as well as you though.”

“I do know him well,” Aimi said as she slammed her almost empty tankard onto the table. “I know he’s an arse.”

Everyone laughed. Even Jojo joined in with a chuckle.

“All captains are arses,” said a big bald man from a nearby table. “Part of the fucking job description, eh?” That earned another round of laughter.

“What ship are ya from, lads?” asked Feather of the sailors who had hijacked their conversation.

“Barely West,” said another of the crew, this one tall and slim with sandy-coloured fluff on his chin.

“That name sound familiar to you?” Jojo asked Jotin quietly, a shadowed look on his dark face.

Aimi thought about it, but she couldn’t say she’d ever heard of the ship. Though that wasn’t surprising – there were plenty plus a lot more ships she’d never heard of.

“Well met ta ya, boys,” Feather said loudly. “The crew of The Phoenix drink with you.”

Feather and Fremen and most of the rest of the crew raised their tankards to their mouths and drank heavily, and, not wanting to be left out, Aimi followed their lead. She gulped down the last of her ale and slammed the mug onto the table with a refreshed sigh. It took her a moment to realise the crew from Barely West had risen to their feet, and there were no more smiles to go around.

“Is that meant to be some sort of joke?” the big bald man snarled.

“I assure you it isn’t,” Feather said, putting down his own mug and standing.

“We took their ship a year back,” Jotin said, a moment before the first fist connected with Feather’s face.

Chapter 25 - The Phoenix

Without horses it took a long time to walk all the way to the Stone district, and all three of them were aching and sore by the time they reached the slaving guild’s hall. The district was known for its artisans, almost all of whom made wonders out of its namesake, and it was a wonder to behold. Buildings rose high and proud and were adorned with all sorts of fanciful designs, from snaking patterns climbing up walls to creatures hideous and beautiful alike perching on top of rooftops. Some were locked in an endless battle, while others watched the good folk pass below through sightless eyes. Fountains depicted monstrous serpents and gods from all over the known world. Statues of heroes long dead but not forgotten stood proud against the rigours of time and weather.

They’d already passed a number of slave pens, fenced-off enclosures open to the sky that held all manner of men, women, and children, all bearing the iron collars of slavery. The pens were extensive, and they weren’t only confined to the Stone district. There were always new slaves coming in, older slaves unable to be offloaded, or those who had yet to have their wills broken to make them useful for servitude. Thousands of folk all penned up and awaiting a life of hellish toil and degradation. This was the side of humanity Keelin truly hated, and he wasn’t alone in that. There wasn’t a pirate in the isles who agreed with or condoned slavery, not least of all because their chosen profession could easily lead to such a fate.

Morley made his opinion on the matter known in a very vocal fashion, tutting and cursing at the conditions the people were kept in. For his part Keelin agreed with his first mate, but he remained silent on the matter. He didn’t want his condemnation of the practice to be heard by the slavers guild until long after he was back at sea. Kebble also remained silent. If the man was as old as he claimed, then he had likely seen more slavery than all of them combined. Keelin still couldn’t bring himself to believe that Kebble was immortal.

The slavers guild hall was an ugly building on the southern side of the district. It stood two storeys tall and had been built with orange stone, where most of the surrounding buildings were grey. Guards were out in full force, with twelve at the entrance all carrying spears, cudgels, and whips. Keelin had spotted regular groups patrolling the district as well. It all gave him a queasy feeling in his stomach.

“I’d like to see the guild master,” Keelin said to the first guard outside the hall. “I plan to make a substantial purchase.”

The guard looked Keelin up and down, his gaze coming to a brief rest on the twin cutlasses, then nodded and motioned for the three of them to follow. Another two of the guards fell in line behind Keelin and his crew, and they quickly found themselves penned in as they entered the hall. The inside of the building was a grand sight, with large tapestries depicting scenes of greatness or monsters of old, and statues of men of all shapes and sizes. Each statue bore a nameplate, but the significance was lost on Keelin. Servants wearing iron collars rushed here and there, and the presence of soldiers was as strong inside as it was out. One slave stopped when she saw Keelin and his escort, then rushed away into a nearby room. A good few moments later, a tall man as thin as a stick sauntered out of the same room.

“How can we help you today?” he said, with a bow of his head that set his many earrings to jingling.

“You the guild master?” Keelin said.

“No. My name is Tindon Lopor, assistant to…”

“I am Captain Keelin Stillwater, emissary to King Drake Morrass, and I am here to make a substantial purchase of your particular wares,” Keelin said with a flourish. “Very substantial. So how about you scurry away and bring me the man in charge, eh?”

“King Morrass?” The man sounded rather sceptical.

“Aye,” Keelin said, crossing his arms and levelling a stare at him.

Lopor shifted from one foot to another until it became apparent that Keelin would say no more. “I shall see if Master Tain is available.”

“If he ain’t, I suggest you tell him to be available.”

Lopor hesitated for just a moment before scurrying away.

“That was brusque, Captan,” Morley said, and Keelin detected a hint of approval.

“Aye. Position of strength, and all that,” he said quietly. “For all the bastard’s evil, Tanner taught me well on the best ways to negotiate with those that reckon they’re powerful.”

They were left waiting and guarded in the opulent hall for a long time. The guards watched them but didn’t stop them wandering, and Keelin took the opportunity to give the statues a closer look. Each one appeared to be a life-sized depiction of the guild’s masters dating back hundreds of years. He was examining one of the statues when its walking, talking counterpart strolled down a nearby staircase. Keelin quickly checked the nameplate and discovered the man’s name was Somolus Tain. The statue was tall and broad, with a bald head, four bars running through its nose, and an exquisitely trimmed beard that gave it a distinguished appearance. The man looked remarkably similar, only with a lot less colour.

“Captain Stillwater,” Somolus Tain said, his voice clipped. He walked with a limp that somehow managed to look sinister to Keelin’s eyes. “I must apologise for your poor treatment. We were not expecting you.”

“No reason you would have been,” Keelin said with a predatory smile.

“Tell me, Captain Stillwater, are you here with Captain Black?”

“Eh? No. I’m here on my own.”

“I see.”

It seemed more than just a little odd that the man would ask if he was with Tanner. Most folk who knew anything about the pirates knew that Keelin had long ago unhitched his wagon from Tanner’s horse.

“I’m told you wish to make a purchase,” Somolus said. The man was just a few feet from Keelin now, and he smelled strongly of strawberries.

A memory welled up inside Keelin. A young boy’s days spent in the local fields with his mother and younger sister. His mother had loved to pick fresh fruit, and Leesa had loved any opportunity to be out of bed even if she did have to be carried wherever she went. He couldn’t remember their faces. No matter how hard Keelin tried, he could never remember their faces.

“Captain Stillwater?”

“Aye, a purchase.” Keelin nodded. “Looking for a lot too.”

“Forgive my ignorance, Captain. Traditionally you pirates do not purchase or keep slaves.”

“Traditions change,” Keelin said. “Especially when there’s a war on.”

“Indeed.” Somolus gave a small bow of his head. “War is often a profitable time for my guild. I’m sure we can accommodate your needs. What exactly are you looking for?”

“Sailors, fighters, anyone with a trade.”

“Expensive tastes,” Somolus cooed. “Which sex would you prefer?”

“Both. A good mix would be appreciated.”

“And how substantial would this purchase be?”

“At least two hundred bodies.”

“Captan,” Morley said, turning his back to the guild master. “That would be a lot of coin, Captan, and we have no way to transport so many back to the isles.” He was whispering, but Keelin could see worry plain on his first mate’s face. “At a push we could maybe take on another fifty passengers, if they don’t mind sleeping on deck. We could never take two hundred.”

“For an extra fee we would be able to transport your property to wherever it needs to be,” Somolus Tain said with a voice like honey. “I guarantee most of the slaves would survive the trip.”

Keelin thought about it for a moment, but the last thing he wanted was to condone a slaving ship entering the Pirate Isles. They were busy trying to stamp out the despicable trade in their waters, and to not only let them through, but also contract them to cross…

“I will arrange transport myself,” Keelin said, pushing Morley aside. “How soon can you have them ready?”

Somolus Tain’s face split into a wide grin. “I will have them ready for your inspection in just a few hours. After that I expect it will take a few days to prepare them for transport. If you wish, I can provide refreshments at our guild’s local tavern while you wait. Of course, we will cover the expense.”

“Aye,” Keelin said. “An ale wouldn’t go amiss while you sort the poor bastards out.”

Keelin had to give one thing to the slavers guild – they treated their more refined slaves quite well. When Somolus Tain’s assistant fetched Keelin and his two crew members from the tavern, Keelin had expected to be shown a bunch of wasted, rag-wearing, dirty men and women, all with iron collars and hollow eyes. He wasn’t wrong on the last part.

They were standing inside one of the slave pens atop a raised stone platform. Keelin looked down on hundreds of faces, some of which stared back at him while others kept their eyes dutifully lowered. They were all dressed in plain grey shifts with no ornamentation other than their collars. For the most part, the slaves were clean and looked healthy. No doubt the guild kept the skilled products away from the ragtag scum they picked up off the street.

Keelin found himself wondering how these people had found their way into their current predicament. He shook his head to clear his mind, and found a pit of anger waiting for him in his stomach at seeing so many good people debased in such a tragic way. Slavery had always seemed horrific to Keelin, even when he was young and his family had owned slaves who worked the nearby mines. When he was younger he’d wanted to save them, to free them. Now he was older, and freeing slaves was exactly what he was about to do.

“As you can see,” Somolus Tain started as he limped up the steps to join Keelin and his crew, “they have been treated kindly because of their skills.”

“You mean their value?” Keelin said bitterly.

“Indeed. Valuable to us, but more so to yourself, it seems.”

“Eh?”

“It appears you need them, therefore they have value to you.” Somolus sounded smug. “If you did not, then you would not be willing to purchase them. I can tell by the way you look at them that you do not entirely agree with the lot they have been dealt. So your need must be great indeed. So their value to you is also great indeed.”

“There’s more than two hundred here,” Keelin said, his voice grating.

“Of course,” Somolus said. “You asked for at least two hundred, so I have provided more. Also, it may be that not all are to your liking. I implore you to walk among them and examine each one. I assure you it will be quite safe. If you find any you do not like the look of, I shall have them removed. There are three hundred and thirty-four slaves gathered before you.”

Keelin ground his teeth at the display, and his hands clenched into fists.

“Can you break down their numbers by their skill sets and previous occupations?” Kebble said, stepping forward and gently moving Keelin aside with a hand on his shoulder. The sharpshooter gave his captain a brief glance before turning to Somolus Tain. “It would help us to decide upon the number we wish to purchase.”

As the guild master began to quote numbers to Kebble, Keelin jumped off the platform and walked among the slaves. He saw men and women of all creeds and races. He saw some who were clearly from the World’s Edge mountains, north of the Five Kingdoms. Not many folk grew so large, and there was a fierce pride in their eyes that no amount of whippings or beatings could tear out of them.

Keelin saw black skins from the southern Wilds and the painted faces of Riverlanders. He saw men and women with golden hair that suggested they were from Sarth, and many and more with the olive skin of those who called the Dragon Empire their home. There were folk from every kingdom arrayed before him, and all stood quietly while they awaited a decision as to their fates.

Keelin stopped in front of a tall, broad woman who had the look of someone who had once been well muscled, but poor conditions had led to some withering. Her hair was short, dark, and wiry, and her nose was bent.

“What’s your name?” he said.

“Eldred,” the woman said in an Acanthian accent.

“You know how to fight?” She looked up into Keelin’s eyes, and there was danger there. However she might have been treated, it hadn’t been enough to put out her fire.

“I do,” she said.

Keelin looked back up at the platform, where Kebble was still in deep conversation with Somolus Tain. The slaver’s guards were busy keeping watch on the slaves as a group, rather than Keelin’s conversation with a single woman.

“How did you come to wear a collar?”

The woman glared at Keelin for a moment, then dropped her eyes. “By way of debt, sir.” She spat the final word.

Keelin laughed softly. “I am no knight. I’m a pirate. You can call me Keelin, or Captain Stillwater. Whichever makes you happiest. How did debt give you a collar?”

Again the woman looked up at Keelin. This time there was suspicion in her eyes. “I was part of a mercenary company in the Dragon Empire. Small but competent. We travelled around looking for folk in trouble, and fixed that trouble so long as they could pay. We hunted foul people and creatures alike. Rarely stopped to think about the consequences.

“After one successful mission to eradicate a lair of urrlas, we ended up spending a bit more than we earned. Quite a bit more, actually.” Eldred stopped and took in a ragged breath before sighing it out. “We couldn’t pay the debt, and instead of allowing us to work it off the local town magistrate called on his prince.

“Before we even realised how fucked we were, we had a dragon fly down on us. Reat got ate by the fucking monster, and the rest of us threw down our weapons rather than follow his lead. Magistrate thanked the prince and sent him on his way. Then promptly called this buggering lot to come and slap collars on us. Reckon he got paid a good few bits for the trouble.”

“They haven’t managed to sell you yet?”

The woman gave Keelin a lopsided grin. “Folk don’t tend to want to stick weapons in the hands of their slaves, and there ain’t much else I’m good for than swinging a length of steel.”

Keelin glanced first to his left and then to his right. There seemed to be a good number of folk who looked like they knew how to swing a sword.

“What would you give for your freedom?” he said.

“Ain’t got nothing to give,” she replied quickly.

“Sure ya do.” Keelin smiled. “You’ve got your allegiance.”

Eldred narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, sure. Reckon I’d give that.”

“What about the others?” Keelin gestured to the rest of the slaves.

“Can’t say for certain, but I reckon most would give anything they could to be out of this fucking iron.” Eldred tugged on her collar to make her point.

Keelin turned and went quickly back to the stone platform, leaping up the steps to join his two crew members and Somolus Tain.

“How are the numbers, Morley?” he said.

“Pricey, but we can afford them with the money Drake gave us. How we’d get them all home, I don’t know.”

“I’ll think of something.”

“Are they all to your liking, Captain Stillwater?” Somolus Tain said, still sounding smug.

“We’re about to find out.” Keelin grinned and turned to address the crowd of slaves.

“My name is Keelin Stillwater, captain of The Phoenix, and I sail under the flag of King Drake Morrass. The Pirate Isles are at war with Sarth and the Five Kingdoms, and we are trying to build the isles into a place where folk from anywhere can live the lives they please. We’re looking for men and women who can fight, who can sail, and who have a trade. What we’re offering you in return is your freedom.”

“Captain Stillwater…” Somolus screeched, stepping forward.

“Silence him,” Keelin roared, pointing at the slaver.

Kebble stepped behind the guild master and drew a long knife from his belt, holding it to the man’s neck. The guards started forwards, but stopped once they realised their master’s life was in imminent danger.

“What are you doing, Captan?” Morley said quietly.

“Making a statement, Morley. Letting everyone know the isles are open to all.”

“The slavers guild…”

“Fuck the guild,” Keelin hissed, low enough that no one else would hear. “Drake’s already declared war on them, just word hasn’t reached here yet. We take what we can for as little as we can, and get the fuck out of here before they decide to stop us.”

Morley looked caught between arguing further and following his captain’s lead. Luckily for them both, he chose the latter and backed off a step.

Keelin raised his voice to a shout again. “So there’s the deal. Anyone who wants their freedom can find it in the Pirate Isles. Ain’t gonna say it’ll be an easy life, but it will be whatever the fuck you want it to be.” He turned to stare at Somolus Tain, Kebble’s knife still at the man’s throat. “I’ll take them all,” he shouted.

The slaves began to speak, a loud murmur rising behind Keelin. Most of it sounded excited. Keelin approached the guild master.

“Say what you will, Tain.”

“We have a policy, Captain Stillwater,” the slaver said, his voice calm despite the knife at his throat. “We do not release slaves, nor sell to those who offer freedom.”

“You’re gonna break that policy this time,” Keelin growled. “I’ll take all these poor bastards, and I’ll even pay you full price for them. And you’re going to thank me for it. If you don’t, you’ll have to find yourself a new shipping route, because I’ll make sure we pirate every fucking slaver that passes within a hundred leagues of the Pirate Isles.”

“You would start a war with us over three hundred worthless lives?”

“Let him go,” Keelin said, and Kebble immediately stepped back, removing the knife from the slaver’s throat. The guards started forwards again with weapons drawn. “You’d be the one starting the war, Tain. I’m just trying to buy a bit of flesh from you. How do you think the slavers in Chade or Sarth will feel when they hear you fucked up their shipping lanes over a few hundred worthless lives?”

Somolus Tain waved for his guards to stand down. There was rage in his expression, but it was clear he was beaten.

“Have them ready for transport in three days, Tain,” Keelin said. “And no mistreatment of them. I want my product whole and intact.”

Somolus Tain nodded. “You will have your slaves, but know that you have made an enemy today, Captain Stillwater. I hope your king appreciates that.”

Chapter 26 - Starry Dawn

Elaina hadn’t been expecting the news that Pollick came running with. She’d hoped that someone they knew might turn up, but never had she imagined it would be Keelin. The prospect of sailing after Starry Dawn and that gut-rotted weird Rovel with Keelin at her side set a fire in her blood. It would seem fitting, somehow, chasing down the bastard who had stolen her ship with the help of another bastard who had once stolen another of her ships.

She found Keelin’s quartermaster, Smithe, in charge of the boat and taking every opportunity to remind the crew of his position of authority. Smithe was a dangerous man; Elaina had known that from the very start. He’d once served aboard Icy Dream, one of her father’s ships, and Elaina had requested him when Tanner gave her The Phoenix. Smithe was a brutal demon in a fight and had not a drop of pity in him, and that made him an excellent tool. Elaina had planned to use Smithe to strike fear into the hearts of her prey and her brethren alike, but the bastard had fallen under Keelin’s charm – or possibly his promise of better wages. Of course, Elaina knew that Smithe’s relationship with his captain had long since soured.

Elaina swaggered up the gangplank with her three remaining crew members in tow, and stepped onto the deck of The Phoenix without any resistance. Smithe was grinning at her from the railing, and there were a number of the morning shift she didn’t recognise taking the opportunity to lounge around with little to do. The morning light revealed that the ship had a few new knocks and scrapes, but she was, for the most part, in excellent condition.

“Morning, Cap’n Black,” Smithe said with a nod. “Can’t say I expected ta see you here.”

“Just thought I’d stop by and see how my ship is doing, Smithe,” Elaina replied easily.

“I meant in Larkos,” Smithe said. “Don’t see the Dawn anywhere round here.”

“She’s away on…” Elaina paused with a grin. “Business. Where’s your crotch mould of a captain hiding?”

Smithe narrowed his eyes. “Went to see the slavers. Odd crew ya got with ya there.”

Elaina glanced behind her at Pavel, Alfer, and Pollick, and shrugged as if it meant nothing.

“I think I’ll wait for him here,” she said. “What shit is your galley serving for breakfast?”

It was mid-morning by the time Keelin arrived, and the first Elaina knew of it was her old friend and lover barging through the door to the galley with a face like thunder and lightning mixing with fire. Elaina and her three crewmen had been happily exchanging stories with a few hands from The Phoenix, but the galley fell silent the moment the ship’s captain arrived.

“Get the fuck off my ship, Elaina,” Keelin said in a quiet voice that held back a sea of rage.

All eyes in the room turned to look at her, and Elaina responded by shooting Keelin the sweetest smile she could.

“Is that any way to treat an old lover?”

“You betrayed me. You tried to have me killed.”

“No, I tried to save you and have Drake killed,” Elaina countered. “Turns out it didn’t work. What the fuck happened on Ash? How did Drake convince my da to sail for him?”

“Drake didn’t,” Keelin said, his face still an angry mask. “I did.”

“Well, shit. Looks like all us Blacks still got a bit of a soft spot for ya,” she said with a wink.

“You’re still on my ship, Elaina.”

“Aye, I am. Not planning to leave just yet. Figured we should have ourselves a little chat, captain to captain. Just like the old days, but with less of the fucking. Unless you’ve got rid of that squinty little waif yet…” Elaina let the suggestion hang; Keelin did not look amused.

“My cabin,” he growled, and pointed towards the galley door before turning his glare on Elaina’s crew. “You three can stay here.”

Keelin waited for Elaina to pass him and then followed along behind her. She could almost feel the anger flowing off him, and it sent chills down her spine to leave a person that angry with her at her back, but she knew Keelin would do her no harm. No matter how furious he might be, the worst he would ever do would be to leave her in Larkos.

She quickly scaled the ladder up to the main deck, squinting at the sudden sunlight, and waited for Keelin to follow her. There were a great many folk on the deck, including a good few Clerics, but Elaina resisted the urge to take command of the situation. She doubted Keelin would take it too well.

“Captan,” said Morley as soon as Keelin’s head poked out of the hatch. “We have an issue.”

Keelin leapt up the last few rungs of the ladder and stood quickly, giving Elaina a fleeting glare. She returned his aggression with a playful smile.

“What’s going on here?” Keelin said.

A number of his crew were kneeling on the deck of The Phoenix with their hands tied behind their backs. Among the bound pirates was Keelin’s waif. The sight of the woman humbled and restrained put a grin on Elaina’s face.

“Are these people members of your crew?” said one of the Clerics, a tall, broad man with a shaved head and a braided beard. Keelin rested his hands on the hilts of his twin cutlasses. Elaina had seen him do it a hundred times before, and it always made her smile. Tanner had taught him to do it as a way of intimidating folk.

“Aye,” Keelin growled. “What have they done?”

“They started a tavern brawl.”

“We didn’t start…”

With a rough smack to the back of the head, one of the Clerics silenced the lad who had protested his innocence. Keelin looked ready to intervene on behalf of his crew, but Elaina wagered he knew better than to anger the Clerics while his ship was docked in their district.

“What’s their punishment?” Keelin said.

“One moon’s community service,” said the bald Cleric. “We brought them to you first in case you would like to… lighten their sentence.”

“Captan,” Morley said, stepping close to Keelin and whispering in his ear. Elaina couldn’t hear what the first mate said, but she caught a definite shake of his head.

“We cannot afford to wait here for a month,” Keelin growled at the Cleric. “Nor will we pay your bribe.”

The Cleric straightened his back, his expression hardening. There were ten brothers aboard the ship, and they were all armed with heavy maces and bucklers. Elaina didn’t doubt Keelin’s crew could take them, but they would sustain injuries, and if any of the Clerics got away they would come back with numbers the pirates of The Phoenix couldn’t withstand. Worse still were the repercussions a brawl here might have in her meeting with the Council of Thirteen. It dawned on Elaina that she might be able to stop a pointless altercation and get back into Keelin’s good books all at once, and she needed to be in his good graces for what she was going to ask of him.

“Brother,” she said, stepping forward.

“Captain Black,” said the bald Cleric.

“What are you doing, Elaina?” Keelin hissed.

“You recognise me then,” she said to the Cleric. “This will make things easier. I would like you to release them without punishment this once. They will, of course, be confined to the ship for the remainder of The Phoenix’s stay in Larkos, and you can tell Brother Hernhold that I will count it as a personal favour to me.”

The bald Cleric seemed to consider the proposition for a few moments before a wide smile spread over his face.

“As you wish, Captain Black. They will remain on the ship.”

“Of course,” said Elaina. “We’ll give them some shitty jobs too, eh?”

Keelin stepped up beside Elaina, and she could sense his impatience. She did her best to ignore her fellow captain as the Clerics untied the pirates and walked down the gangplank and away.

“What the fuck was that?” Keelin said as soon as they were out of earshot.

Elaina glanced at him, smiled, and said nothing.

“Thanks, Cap’n,” said Jojo, the sentiment echoed by a few of the crew members that Elaina didn’t recognise.

Keelin’s little waif walked towards them. Her face was about as carefully expressionless as Elaina had ever seen, but there was a deep anger in the little bitch’s eyes.

“Aimi…” Keelin started.

“I’ll be in my cabin,” she said, and then sent a glare in Elaina’s direction. “As ordered.”

“You mean my cabin?” Keelin said.

The little waif stopped for a moment and stared at Keelin. “No,” she said, and then continued on her way to the captain’s cabin. She opened the door, walked through, and closed it behind her. Elaina liked to think she’d heard the click of the lock afterwards.

Keelin turned to face Elaina and sighed. “What the fuck just happened?” The anger had turned to exasperation.

Elaina shrugged. While she wouldn’t admit it, she enjoyed seeing Keelin struggle with the little bitch he’d chosen over her. If she could convince him to help her, there may be a chance to get between the two of them even further.

“Still need to have that chat, Keelin,” she said. “Sooner would be better than later.”

Keelin glanced back towards his cabin. “Let’s find a tavern, eh?”

As they walked, Elaina asked what had happened in the isles during her absence. Having spent so long at sea, she could have missed the birth of a new god and not known anything about it. Keelin seemed happy to talk about how he’d convinced Tanner to join Drake, and about the recent battle at New Sev’relain. She wondered if he’d picked up a couple of injuries himself. He was trying to hide it, but Elaina knew him well enough to know when he was in pain and the limp was a dead giveaway.

Once they were well and truly settled at a table with drinks in hand, Elaina sat back and wondered how to broach the subject of the favour she needed to ask.

“What are you doing here, Elaina?” Keelin said. “And how do you have so much pull with the Clerics?”

“Tanner sent me,” she said with a grimace. “First to Chade, then to Larkos. Didn’t want me coming to Ash to confuse matters between you and him – and Drake.”

“Tanner was looking for allies in the free cities,” Keelin said with a sigh. “Did he get them?”

“In a way.” Elaina grinned. “Tanner sent me to Chade, but he didn’t get shit out of it. I did.”

“Huh?”

“Lord and Lady Chade are sending ships, men, and supplies to the isles. Thing is, they’re only there to sail for me. I’ve got a meeting with the Council of Thirteen in a few days to get the same deal from them, and the Queen of Blades is backing me for it.”

“Sailing for you,” Keelin said. “Why?”

“Pirates are on the verge of calling themselves a kingdom, yeah?” Elaina’s grin widened. “I’m throwing my name in for the throne, and I reckon I’m bringing more to the table than anyone else.”

“How many ships?”

“Ten from Chade. Gotta negotiate just that with the Council here.”

“I’ve just purchased three hundred slaves, Elaina,” Keelin said, his voice hushed.

“Eh? Why the fuck are you dealing with those buggering slavers?”

Keelin winced and knocked back the last of his ale, then called for another one.

“We need folk to sail, folk to fight, folk to live on the isles. I figured I’d bring them in by buying and freeing a bunch of slaves.”

“That’s a dumb fucking idea,” Elaina said with a shake of her head. “How are you gonna get ’em to the isles?”

Keelin took two mugs from the serving boy and pushed one towards Elaina. “With the ships you’re about to convince the Council to give to you.”

She smiled. “Favour, is it?”

“Aye.”

“One that I’ll get to call in soon then?”

Keelin narrowed his eyes at her. “Within reason.”

“It’s a deal then.” Elaina held up her mug, and after only a brief hesitation Keelin tapped it with his own.

“How did you convince the Queen of Blades to help you?” Keelin said.

Elaina waved away the question and took a gulp of ale. “Hey, Keelin,” she said cheerfully. “Do you remember that deal we struck in that tavern in Larkos? The one where I carry your slaves to the isles with my ships as a favour and you owe me one?”

Keelin’s face fell as he realised he wasn’t going to like what was coming.

“Well, it just so happens I’m calling it in now.” She smiled.

“Within reason, Elaina.”

“Oh, it’s perfectly reasonable, Keelin,” she said sweetly. “I doubt it will cost you a thing.”

“What is it?”

“I need passage home.”

“What? Why?”

“Remember my first mate, Rovel? Well, that cock-fucking, mouldy crap-licker went and stole my ship. Leaves me a little stranded here.”

“You let the Dawn get taken from beneath ya?” Keelin said, incredulous.

“Weren’t exactly so much with the letting,” Elaina growled as she felt the heat rising to her cheeks. “Bastard sailed off while I was ashore. Fucking coward. Anyway, I want passage on The Phoenix.”

“What about the ships you’re getting from the Council?” Keelin sounded hopeful.

“Could be weeks before they’re ready, and I ain’t got that much time to lose. I don’t reckon you’ll be hanging around for that long either.”

Keelin winced and shook his head. “Elaina, we ain’t going straight back to the isles. We’re stopping off a bit south first.”

“How far south?” Elaina said, suspicious.

“The Forgotten Empire.”

Elaina had no idea what to say. Shocked began to explain how she felt, but it was a long way off finishing the job. No one sailed into the waters of the Forgotten Empire, and even fewer folk sailed out again.

“Uh… Why?” It wasn’t the most elegant of responses, but her tone left Keelin under no confusion that she thought him mad.

“That’s between me and my crew,” he said.

“They know where you’re headed and they ain’t mutinied yet? Must mean there’s something big in it for them. Must mean they think you’ve got a way to keep them alive.” Elaina mulled it over. In all the time she’d known Keelin, he’d never once talked of the Forgotten Empire; whatever he thought he could find there, he’d kept it secret from her.

“So you see,” Keelin said, “you really don’t want to come with me.”

“I still do though,” Elaina said quickly. “Calling in a favour, remember?”

“Elaina…”

“Whatever the fuck you’re about to say, Keelin, save it. I’m coming. At the very least you’re gonna need someone to watch your back. I don’t give a fuck what you’re after. I’ve got my eyes set on my own prize.”

“The throne?”

“Aye.”

Keelin sipped at his ale. “And what if the only way to get it is to share it with Drake?”

Elaina grinned. “Then I guess I’ll finally know the truth to all those rumours Drake spreads about the size of his cock.”

Keelin dropped his eyes to his mug. Elaina wasn’t sure what she was seeing on his face, but it looked an awful lot like her old lover was struggling with some jealousy. She hoped he’d struggle with it for a good long time.

Chapter 27 - Starry Dawn

“Do you know what you are going to say to them?” Pavel said with the tone of calm he used with his patients. If anything, it only put Elaina more on edge.

“I was gonna walk in and threaten the rich bastards with a good old stabbing unless they agree to give me both ships and the folk to sail them,” she said.

Pavel sighed. “I’m not sure that would be the wisest tactic.”

“Don’t worry. I got a plan.”

“More importantly, you have the backing of the Queen of Blades.”

“Hopefully the Scarred Man too,” Elaina said with a grin that only reached her lips. “Haven’t had a chance to ask ya yet – what do ya think about crewing up with Stillwater for the trip home?”

Pavel made a face. Elaina couldn’t be quite certain, but it looked a lot like the face of a man who didn’t approve and was trying to approach the conversation with caution.

“I worry how it will look to your father if you sail back into the isles aboard Captain Stillwater’s ship and without one of your own.”

Elaina leaned forwards and poured herself a glass of iced wine. The antechamber they’d been instructed to wait in was lavish, with comfortable seating, large windows to allow a lot of light in, and a table full of refreshments. There were two other groups waiting to see the Council, but they kept their distance from Elaina and her priest.

“I do not want to see you hurt again, Elaina,” Pavel continued.

She snorted. “I’ll be bringing more ships and men to the isles than any other captain. My da wouldn’t dare…”

“I meant with Captain Stillwater.”

Elaina turned a dark glare on the priest, but decided to change the subject rather than berate him. “You been to your temple yet? They got one dedicated to Pelsing, don’t they?”

“Yes, they do,” Pavel said with a nod. “It appears the guilds of Larkos pay tribute to all of the gods. I have been, and I have prayed for the support of Pelsing.”

Elaina laughed. “Fortune and gold, eh?”

“Fortune and gold,” Pavel repeated the prayer.

The door opened, revealing a Blade dressed in a blue-and-white robe, her four swords dangling from her belt. Only the guards and the Council members were allowed arms inside the great guild hall, and all of the guards belonged to the Blades. Being in control of the central district was a grand position indeed, and Elaina could only hope it was grand enough for the Queen of Blades to exert that power in her favour.

“Captain Black,” the Blade said. “The Council will see you now.”

Elaina stood and gave Pavel a wink. Her stomach felt like it was dancing a drunken jig, but Elaina refused to show any discomfort. Her father had always said that no matter how bad the situation, a Black should always appear in complete control. They were words Elaina wanted to live by. They were also words she rarely found herself able to follow. She was too passionate and prone to rash actions. Planning was for folk like Drake Morrass. Elaina preferred to act before the other person had a chance to.

Following the Blade into the Council chamber, Elaina found it as grand as she’d expected. A circular table formed a ring around a large open area in the centre of the room. Light shone down from a glass-windowed ceiling and was complemented by a whole host of candles mounted to the pillars that stretched from the floor all the way up. There was a single break in the table that allowed folk to walk into the centre, and the centre was where the Queen of Blades was standing.

The Drurr stood tall and stunning in a figure-hugging dress of crimson. Her wreath of blades still rested upon her shoulders, and the smile she turned on Elaina was both welcoming and predatory.

Elaina gave each member of the Council of Thirteen a good long stare as she made her way into the centre of the room. For their part, the Council watched her silently, which only served to increase the prickling Elaina felt all over her skin. Once she stood in the middle of their circle alongside the Queen of Blades, the Drurr woman finally spoke.

“I introduce my guest Captain Elaina Black, daughter of Tanner Black, consort of Drake Morrass, and admiral of the pirate fleet.”

Elaina almost cringed at the introduction. She’d never considered herself an admiral, no matter how many ships she commanded, and the title of consort to Drake Morrass somehow made it seem all too real. The idea that she might actually have to marry and sit beside the slimy bastard on the throne had never occurred to Elaina as anything other than another obstacle to overcome.

“Some of you have already met with Captain Black,” the Queen of Blades continued. “I urge you not to be biased against her plea. We all know the way this works, after all.”

There was a murmur of agreement from a few of the Council members, and Elaina couldn’t help but feel the Queen’s comment was directed at those who had tried to curry Elaina’s favour themselves. She’d chosen the Blades as her representative among the Council, and that was likely to slight those others who had tried for the same position. The Queen of Blades had already warned Elaina of this, as well as which of the Council members would likely vote against her, and which were still undecided.

“The floor is yours, Captain Black,” the Queen of Blades said as she exited the ring and moved to the only spare seat at the table.

Elaina waited for the Drurr to sit down before clearing her throat and raising her voice. “I’m here on behalf of the Pirate Isles.”

“There is no need to shout, dear,” said Lady Tienna Ro’lare. “Some of us may be old, but we can hear you quite well.”

“Uh… right.” Elaina felt her cheeks redden. She forged on regardless. “I’m, uh, here asking for help. We’re at war with the Five Kingdoms and Sarth. They aim to purge us just like they've done before, but that ain’t happening this time. This time we’re fighting back. We’re organised. We’re united. We’re determined…”

“You’re doomed,” said Blunt, guild master of the Broken Spears.

Elaina focused on the man, her dark eyes staring a hole through him. Blunt didn’t so much as blink, let alone look away.

“We’ve beat ’em twice already,” she said vehemently. “First time they sent a Man of War and we took it, turned its bones into a town.” Elaina was well aware she was taking credit for something Keelin and Drake had accomplished, and she wasn’t about to stop there. “Second when they sent a fleet. We crushed it and took their flagship for our own.”

“Then why do you need our help?” said Somolus Tain of the slavers guild.

Elaina paused, trying to collect her thoughts; she hadn’t expected to be interrupted so early into her speech.

“Wins don’t come without losses, and we’ve suffered a good few wins. We need reinforcements. We’re close to winning this once and for all. Beating back Sarth and the Five Kingdoms so they ain’t got no choice but to recognise us as a kingdom of our own and pay the bloody tributes that go along with it. But we need a little bit of help from our friends to get us there. And, uh, I’m here hoping to count you lot among my friends – our friends.”

Blunt leaned forwards with his hands on the table. He looked just like his name, broad and hard and… blunt. “Or” – he paused just long enough to stand up to address the rest of the Council – “we could join the other side and help wipe out the pirate pest problem once and for all.”

A few of the other Council members made noises that seemed to be in agreement. Elaina looked first to the Queen of Blades and then to the Scarred Man, and she found them both silent and watching her intently. A test, she realised. They wanted to see if she could convince the Council without their help before they threw their support behind her as queen of the Pirate Isles.

“Once and for all, is it?” Elaina said. “Ya reckon that’s likely, do ya?” She laughed. No one joined in.

“This ain’t the first time other kingdoms have come for us with soldiers and fire, and it wouldn’t be the first time they sailed away thinking they’d dealt with us for good an’ all. We keep coming back though, don’t we? The Pirate Isles are conveniently placed right in the middle of the main shipping route between Sarth, the Five Kingdoms, and all the way over here in the Dragon Empire. To go around the isles completely adds weeks to a journey. Weeks of open sea with no little islands for fresh water, and some of those stretches of open sea are far more dangerous than an encounter with some pirates.”

“Yes, we’re all aware of the prime location your people currently occupy, Captain,” said Somolus Tain.

“Aye? Well, you drive us out and we just come on back once ya gone. Because there’s no better place to pirate from in all of the known world. All a purge ever accomplishes is a few years of less pirates and less pirating.”

“Captain Black makes a good point,” Blunt said loudly, a wide grin on his smug, bearded face. “Perhaps occupation of the isles by a military force would secure the trade routes.”

Elaina laughed to give herself a moment to think, but it came out as a nervous giggle.

“That’s uh… that’s exactly what I’m proposing, guild master Blunt. Thanks for bringing the subject up. Ya could send in your own military, sure, or maybe Sarth could, or the Five Kingdoms. Or maybe a combination of all three. I certainly can’t see that turning violent.” A couple of the Council chuckled at the notion.

“You’d have to support ’em,” she continued, feeling a little emboldened. “With food, with pay, with booze. Trust me, guild master Blunt, ain’t no military force sitting anywhere without a healthy supply of booze.

“They would need constant support to keep the isles free of us pirates, and the moment their discipline dropped – and it would – we’d be back. Not only that, but we displaced pirates would go elsewhere in the meantime. Pirate Isles is the best shipping route. It ain’t the only one. Might be we move on over to the Passage.

“You’re on the right course, guild master Blunt, but the way you suggest it is costly and dangerous. What happens if you let Sarth take control of the isles and they decide only Sarth merchants are allowed through?” Elaina shook her head solemnly. Blunt sat back down and steepled his hands.

Elaina smiled and glanced around at the rest of the Council. “There’s already a military presence in the isles. We’re already set up and ready, just without the incentive to protect rather than steal. All we need is a little help through a rough, uh, beginning.”

Elaina swallowed and found her mouth as dry as sand. With a rough cough to clear her throat, she continued.

“If you help us protect what’s ours and fight off Sarth and the Five Kingdoms, then you’ll get to sail your merchants through our waters without the threat of piracy. I ain’t saying it’ll be free, but anyone who helps us is gonna get to use the trade routes for a lot less than those that fight us.”

A number of the Council were now talking to their neighbours. Only the Scarred Man remained silent among it all.

“You’re proposing you tax us for use of the shipping lanes even after we help you protect the isles from invasion?” said Conney Markmarter of the Dragon Slayers.

“Aye,” Elaina said a little too enthusiastically. “Aye. Discount rate, of course, on account of your help, but everyone gets taxed. No exceptions. You’ll lose far less by a bit of tax than the loss of entire ships.”

Again the Council members began to talk among themselves, and Elaina stood in the middle and watched them all. She caught a reassuring nod from the Queen of Blades, but it was fleeting; the Drurr was deep in conversation with Terk Ferrywold of the Red Hands. Elaina’s legs were wobbling, and she locked her knees to stop the weakness showing.

When the Scarred Man finally spoke, his voice came out as a dry rasp and all other sound in the hall stopped. “You ask a lot of us, Captain Black.” Elaina looked at the guild master of the Scarred Men, but it was impossible to see his face beneath his mask. “To whom should we entrust our ships and their crews? Many of us have had dealings with Drake Morrass before, and he is not always to be trusted.”

Elaina sniffed and straightened her back. Her speech had meandered and she’d lost her place, but this was an expected question with a prepared answer.

“I ain’t asking you to entrust your support to Drake. I’m telling you to entrust it to me. He’s got the support of the people and of the captains, it’s true. What he don’t have is the backing to make the Pirate Isles a true kingdom. With your help, I will have that backing. I’ll be sat there right beside Morrass on that throne, and you can trust me.”

“Can we?” rasped the Scarred Man.

Elaina swallowed. “Aye.”

The silence that greeted her statement said more than a thousands words.

“You’ve, uh, you’ve all heard of my father.” It wasn’t a question. “Many things can be said of Tanner Black, but none of them slate him as a liar. Well, he brought his children up the same way. I ain’t a liar, and I’m telling you now you can trust me to do what’s right by you. I don't forget my allies. Nor my enemies.”

As the chatter began again, the Queen of Blades stood. “If there are no more questions for the captain at this time, may I suggest we move on to the vote?”

Elaina waited to hear an objection, or another question she would have to answer, but neither came. It appeared all had already decided one way or the other. Her heart was beating too fast, and she wanted nothing more than to collapse into a chair with a strong drink. Public speaking in front of a hostile crowd was not something Elaina ever wished to repeat.

“As I brought the captain to us, I believe I shall start with myself,” the Queen of Blades continued. She’d told Elaina this was how it worked; the guild master in charge of the central district determined which order the other guild masters voted in. The opinions of others weren’t meant to sway a vote, but with guilds as powerful as the Blades, the Scarred Men, and the slavers, it was impossible for their votes not to impact upon others.

“The Blades vote to support Captain Black and the residents of the Pirate Isles,” the Queen announced. “How do the Scarred Men vote?”

Elaina turned to look at the Scarred Man, but it was pointless. With his hood up and his mask in place, Elaina couldn’t even see the man’s eyes, only the deep rents in the white mask that depicted the marks of the original Scarred Man.

“The Scarred Men vote in favour of the captain,” he rasped. Elaina felt her heart quicken.

“How does the slaving guild vote?” said the Queen of Blades.

“We vote against the pirates,” said Somolus Tain.

Elaina saw the surprise on the Queen of Blades’ face, and turned to see Somolus Tain sneering at her. Considering the slavers guild had tried to curry her favour themselves, Elaina had assumed their support was without question. She wondered how much of the denial was an attempt at petty vengeance for the offence Keelin had given when he ordered a knife held to Somolus’ neck.

With two of the three most powerful guilds in her favour and one against, the vote could still go either way. Elaina wagered she saw concern on the face of the Queen of Blades also.

“How do the Silken Soldiers vote?” said the Drurr.

Lady Tienna Ro’lare sat in her cocoon of silk wraps, old and shrivelled. “I vote against the captain’s proposal,” she said, and Elaina’s heart beat faster still.

Even dressed in her finest clothes and with her face daubed with white powder, Elaina felt her cheeks reddening. To be in the middle of all these fools and have them vote against her, despite how passionately she’d made her plea. Rage and embarrassment never mixed well with Elaina.

“How do the Nightborne vote?”

Red, the guild master of the Nightborne, sat in relative darkness compared to the other guild masters. The candles behind her had been snuffed out, yet even that didn’t account for the unnatural darkness around the sinewy, flame-haired woman.

“I like her,” she said. “She has my vote.”

“How do the Clerics vote?”

Brother Hernhold leaned forwards and nodded to Elaina. “The Clerics vote in favour of the proposal.”

Elaina’s heart was fair trying to hammer its way out of her chest, and she wished the Council would do their voting all at once, but traditions were traditions and the Queen of Blades had warned her how it would go.

“How does the Thirteenth vote?” the Queen continued.

Armen Vert, guild master of the Thirteenth and a royal bastard from the Five Kingdoms, looked unimpressed. “We vote in favour of Captain Black.”

Elaina almost questioned the man’s decision, she’d been so sure he would vote the other way, but good sense asserted itself and she kept quiet.

“How do the Fallen vote?”

Carowell stood up and fixed Elaina with a black stare, her dark hair framing her pale face in anger. “This is a mistake. They are pirates. They will…”

“The time for discussion is past, Carowell,” the Queen of Blades said firmly. “How do the Fallen vote?”

“Against,” Carowell snarled, and sat back down. Elaina had no idea what had caused the plump woman to bear so much anger against her. It certainly seemed possible she’d lost something at the hands of pirates.

“How do the Red Hands vote?”

Terk Ferrywold gave Elaina a sympathetic look. “You should have sided with me instead of the Drurr. I vote against.”

“How do the Civil Sons vote?”

Jeneus Lo’ten yawned wide and loud. “Whichever way you vote, my dear bladed queen. For the pirate. Why not, eh?”

At the sixth vote in her favour Elaina’s stomach turned over, and then over again. It felt as though her insides were dancing a nervous jig. One more would secure her support no matter how the last two guilds voted.

“How do the Broken Spears vote?”

Blunt, guild master of the Broken Spears and a man with impeccable taste in fine suits, smiled at Elaina wide and long. “I vote in favour of Captain Black,” he said in his deep, rumbling voice.

A couple of the guild masters started shouting, and those who didn’t all seemed to be busy in quieter discussions. Elaina wondered if major decisions made by the Council were always like this. The Queen of Blades fought for control of the situation and eventually managed to quieten her peers long enough to take the votes of the two remaining guilds. Elaina heard none of it. Her blood was rushing through her ears and a whoop of joy was threatening to escape her, but she held it in. She needed to maintain a measure of composure despite her victory.

With both Chade and Larkos behind her, there was no way anyone could dispute her claim to the throne, even if she did have to sit it beside Drake Morrass. There was also no way her father could be anything other than proud, even with the loss of her own ship. Tanner had sent her on an impossible task and she’d succeeded regardless.

“Captain Black,” said the Queen of Blades, and Elaina realised the entire Council had fallen silent.

Straightening up again, she faced the Drurr. “Aye?”

“The Council has voted in favour of your proposal. What is left is a discussion on the amount of support that will be entrusted to you. If you would like to return to the antechamber – this could take some time.”

Elaina nodded enthusiastically, a wild grin plastered to her face. “Aye, I can wait.”

The Queen of Blades bowed her head slightly. “Congratulations, Captain.”

Chapter 28 - The Phoenix

Keelin looked up at the Bloody Bride and felt a shiver travel up his spine, across his neck, and then back down his spine for good measure. He’d always felt the name of the ship was a bit macabre, and now the thing looked downright spooky. The majority of the rigging was no longer made from rope, as one would expect from most ships, but from the silk woven by that terrifying monster of a ship’s pet that Captain Zothus kept. It made the Bride look like a giant floating nest of spiders.

“Can I help ya, Captain?” said a voice from behind, and Keelin turned to find the bald captain standing there, watching him with an amused expression. Zothus wore no shirt, and an extensive tattoo of a serpent wound its way all around his chest and arms.

“How can you stand it?” Keelin said.

“What’s that, mate?”

“The spider.”

“Rhi? She’s quite friendly once ya get to know her. Reckon she’d take right to you. She loves the scared ones.”

Keelin shuddered and glanced behind at the ship, his eyes darting around the rigging, looking for the cat-sized monster.

“What do ya want, Stillwater?” Zothus said with a laugh and a shake of his head.

“Do you still work for Drake?”

“I sail for Drake,” Zothus said. “I work for my crew.”

“Good enough,” Keelin said quickly. “The whole of the Pirate Isles sails for Drake these days. I’m wondering if you’re heading back there.”

Zothus nodded slowly.

“And how would you like an escort?” Keelin said. “Seems Elaina’s got some ships, and I have some slaves that need to find their way back to Drake.”

Zothus narrowed his eyes. “Drake don’t much like slavery. Neither do I.”

Keelin held up his hands. “I purchased them to free them, Zothus. We need folk back in the isles. Folk to sail, fight, and work. They’ll be delivered as slaves, but as soon as they’re handed over, I want their collars removed.”

“And you want me to direct these ships and free folk back to the Pirate Isles?” Zothus said. “Why not you?”

“I have another stop to make first. Might be a while, and the isles need reinforcements sooner than later.”

“Send them my way.” Zothus nodded. “I shall deliver them to Drake as safe as the sea allows.”

It wasn’t far to The Phoenix from the Bloody Bride, and Keelin hadn’t expected any trouble, which made it all the more confusing when he realised he was sitting in a busy tavern with a drink in front of him and a man dressed in a white robe on the other side of the little table.

“How did I get here?” Keelin said as he looked about himself and recognised the tavern as one very close to the docks.

“I brought you here,” said the white-robed man in a soothing voice. “I am sorry for the method, but I needed to talk to you and I did not want to rouse any attention.”

“Right,” Keelin said, still fighting the fuzzy feeling that clouded his head. “But how did I get here?”

“You walked, Captain Stillwater. Just not under your own volition. I suggest you drink. The feeling will fade very soon.”

Keelin looked down at the mug in front of him. He smelled alcohol, and strong stuff by the whiff of it. Looking up, he found the white-robed man regarding him with deep yellow eyes. Keelin had never seen yellow eyes before, and they were unnerving to say the least. The rest of the tavern seemed to be going about its normal business as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Folk drinking, boasting, singing, drinking some more.

“Who are you?” Keelin said. He knew he should be angry, or worse, but something about the man set off a warning in Keelin’s head and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that no matter how quickly he might draw his swords, it wouldn’t be fast enough.

“I am the Oracle, Captain Stillwater.”

“Drake’s Oracle?” Drake had mentioned the man a few times.

“The very same. And now you know I am not without power. I hope it will go some way towards convincing you that I am no fraud.”

“Right.” Keelin picked up his mug and sniffed at it. “What is it you want from me?”

“Right now I wish to tell you a story. The story of this city. Did you know Larkos was once part of the Dragon Empire? Long ago it was the sister city to the capital of the Dragon Empire, Soromo.”

Keelin took a sip; it was rum.

“The Dragon Empress ruled from her floating city of Soromo while the Dragon Emperor ruled equally from here. Under their combined government the Dragon Empire flourished, as did their dragons. These were true dragons, mind you, not the drakes that fly the skies these days. Pale shadows of their former selves, but I will get to that.

“This city was a happy place, and most of Larkos’ citizens were content with their lot. Ruled by the fear of dragons in their skies. The authorities held little sway over the goings on in the streets; their power stemmed from the dragons, and those creatures could not traverse the intricacies of human settlement without destroying all around them. Gangs appeared, and lots of them, each carving out a portion of the city and ruling the crime within those portions.

“When the Dragon Emperor heard of these gangs, he directed his will towards crushing them, driving them out, and restoring order to his city. He succeeded only in causing chaos. The gangs lived in the streets and the underground, where the Emperor’s dragons could not follow them.

“Eventually the Emperor gave up. He realised that the gangs did a better job of upholding order in the city than his guard ever could. He asked each of the twelve major gangs to send him a representative in order that he might negotiate with them. A deal was forged. The gangs would police the city for the Emperor, and they would each pay him tribute for the privilege of being allowed to exist.”

The Oracle smiled, his eyes distant. “It was the Emperor’s grandest folly, and it cost him both his life and the future of his beloved dragons.

“You see, dragons are strange creatures. In order to breed true dragons, there needs to be both a matriarch and a patriarch. Otherwise, all that will ever hatch will be drakes, and while drakes can breed more drakes, they can never breed a dragon.

“But I digress. The gangs were pleased for a while with their new legitimate authority, but it did not take long for them to realise they were paying the Dragon Emperor for no reason. They did not need him. He took from them and gave nothing back. But he had given them something in the beginning. He had brought them together and given them peace. He had stopped them warring among themselves over territory and prestige.

“So the gangs met in secret and devised a plan to rid themselves of the Dragon Emperor. They took the gate and the wall, and they turned the city’s weapons of war inwards. They waited until the Emperor’s dragon took flight, and they brought the beast down. The Dragon Emperor could not live without his dragon, and soon after he was found hanging.

“But the dragon patriarch had left no heir. No one had seen the treason coming, and all now knew that the dragons’ time upon the world was ending. The Dragon Empress was enraged, and she threw her armies against the city of Larkos. Men fought and died. Dragon Princes rode their beasts into hails of ballistae, and the city held. No one thought it possible, but the gangs held the city walls and the city docks.

“Larkos was scarred, but it survived, and the Dragon Empress was forced to retreat before all of her dragons were lost.

“The gangs renamed themselves guilds, and they carved the city into new districts and laid down a series of laws to stop them clashing ever again. They had stood the test of war and dragon fire together, and they had come out the other side stronger, more resolute, and more unified than ever before. Eventually they added a thirteenth guild, so that no disputes between their council could ever be tied. Larkos survived and grew, and prospered into the city it is today.”

Keelin sat still, waiting for the Oracle to signal he was finished with his story. He had no idea why the man had decided to tell him the tale, and he was just as unsure about what he truly wanted, but every one of Keelin’s instincts was telling him not to anger the Oracle.

“Why tell me that?” he said eventually, when it seemed the man would say no more.

“It is an interesting story, don’t you think, Captain Stillwater?”

“Uh… sure.”

“The guilds owed their peace and their unity and their existence to one man, the last of the Dragon Emperors. Yet they removed him from power and killed his dragon – and, as a consequence, the Emperor himself.

“I cannot see the past, only the future, but I believe had they not rid themselves of the Emperor, they would have torn themselves apart. Or perhaps he would have torn them apart.”

Keelin sighed and looked down into his mug. “What does…”

He looked up. He was standing outside the tavern, facing the docks. The Oracle was gone.

Chapter 29 - Starry Dawn

Elaina wandered up the gangplank onto The Phoenix and looked around at her temporary home. In the daylight it looked as clean a ship as it had ever been. She had a few more scars than when Tanner had given her to Elaina, but scars were just evidence that there were stories to be told.

“Ain’t as sleek as the Dawn,” Alfer said sadly.

“Bigger though,” said Pollick.

“Needs to be, with her fat arse.”

“Now now, lads,” Elaina chastised. Some of the crew had gathered around, and pirates were notoriously defensive when it came to their ships. “This here’s our new home for the time being. All comparisons to our Starry Dawn can wait ’til after we’ve got her back. Right now let’s be appreciative that these fine folk are giving us the grace of their ship.” Diplomacy seemed to be mostly about flowery words and empty compliments.

Elaina handed her pack off to Alfer. She didn’t have much in the way of possessions these days – almost everything she owned had been stolen along with the Dawn – but she’d picked up a spare set of clothing and a few other essentials.

“Get those stowed away on a bunk, Alfer,” she said.

“With the rest of us, Cap?”

“Where else would I be staying?”

“Well, with the Cap’n of this ship and you, I figured I had to ask.”

Elaina gave her quartermaster a grin and a shake of her head, and the man set off with Pollick towards the nearest hatch. Pavel continued to hover nearby, his faded crimson robes making him stand out aboard the ship.

“Reckon you’ll be bunking with the crew as well, priest,” Elaina said.

“What in the name of Rin’s leaking tits are you doing here again?”

Elaina turned to Keelin’s little waif with a wide grin. “Haven’t you heard? I’m ya new shipmate.”

The waif’s face went from anger to confusion, then back to anger. Elaina struggled to stop herself cackling at the woman.

“Keelin… uh, the captain agreed to this?”

“Aye,” Elaina said cheerfully, stepping forward to look down on the smaller woman. “Jumped on the idea when I suggested it, actually. I think he wants a real woman on board, just between me and you.”

To her credit, the waif didn’t back down despite being horribly outmatched. A number of the crew had gathered around to watch the confrontation. She didn’t care one drop for the attention herself, but the more folk Elaina could get on her side, the more likely the bitch would jump ship at her first opportunity.

“Back to work,” Keelin roared. “Now! I intend to be under way before midday.”

“Not everyone’s had a turn ashore, Cap’n,” said Smithe, appearing from the shadows of the main mast.

“Then those that ain’t can blame those that have,” Keelin growled. “Some have been ashore talking about our big score. We’re leaving now, before folk start asking questions.”

“Big score?” Elaina said with a smile, still staring at the other woman.

“I thought you didn’t care,” Keelin said coldly, brushing past her and steering the girl away from the confrontation.

Elaina watched the two walk away, noting that the woman looked far from happy. After a very brief conversation she pushed his hands away and leapt up onto the rigging, scurrying quickly up towards the nest. Elaina would have been impressed if she hadn’t been so focused on being rid of her.

Keelin’s shoulders slumped, and even from behind he looked weary. Elaina swaggered up beside him and gave him a friendly nudge with her shoulder, hoping the girl was watching from above.