Where Loyalties Lie

Chapter 38 - Fortune

Fortune’s Rest was Drake’s creation. He’d built the floating pleasure house from the ground up, taking captured or derelict ships wherever he could and outfitting them not for long voyage sailing or combat, but for housing and entertainment.

Drake had made use of any and every ship he could find, from whalers to sloops, galleons to carracks. He’d even found a couple of gargants all but wrecked along a stretch of the Sarth coast; the vessels were slow at sail, dangerous in a storm, and even more dangerous around shallows, so they’d fallen out of favour. He’d hired a small army of shipwrights to restore them, and now they formed the centre of the Rest, easily twice as large as any of the other ships.

The Rest was the beginning of Drake’s empire, and, far more than piracy or his trading contracts, it was the source of his substantial income. Many folk wondered just how a pirate could become richer than a king, and the answer was floating around right under everyone’s noses.

It was said a man could purchase any pleasure he could think of at Fortune’s Rest, and any that didn’t already exist there could be found for a price. Aristocrats, merchants, warlords, and even the good folk flocked from all around the known world to the Rest, and many wasted their fortunes there, lining Drake’s pockets even as they emptied their own.

It was widely accepted that the Rest was out of bounds for those authorities within the empires of man who knew it existed. Why would the noble folk of Sarth, or the Five Kingdoms or Acanthia, agree to sinking a place they all enjoyed visiting? For many of those in positions of power, the Rest was the only place they could find the pleasures they wanted and the secrecy to enjoy them.

Drake heard of all the requests, of course, and over the years since he’d commissioned the flotilla he’d discovered some insane fetishes. Sable, of the merchant family Fre’tre of Acanthia, requested baths filled with the blood of still-born infants, claiming they gave him eternal youth. Drake had to admit the man looked young for his sixties.

General Tchar from the southern wilds had a penchant for eating the most dangerous creatures known to man. That had been one of the harder requests to accommodate, as the general had once asked for the thigh meat of a troll, and only the Drurr were crazy and skilled enough to breed those monsters.

Everson Breen, captain of the Malevolent, had once requested a duet sung to him by female conjoined twins. Drake had never even heard of two people stuck in one body until that one had been put in.

Despite its wonderful profitability, the Rest was hellish to maintain. With all the ships forever at sea and lashed together with so little individual movement, the hulls had a habit of rotting through. One unfortunate sinking could bring down the surrounding ships, so Drake had ordered a rotation. Every six months, groups of ships were sailed to the nearest shipwrights, where they were given a full inspection and time to undergo any necessary maintenance. Thankfully none of the vessels were flagged as piratical, so they could visit any port in any civilised society, but the costs involved were beyond lavish.

For five years Drake had run and maintained the Rest, and for five years he had raked in the profits. Now he needed the money, and he needed the ships. Those that could cross deep waters would be put to use as legitimate fronts for the booty that pirates delivered to New Sev’relain. Those that couldn’t cross the deep would be gradually outfitted for war. And he had to manage all of it while keeping the Rest operational. It would be no small feat, and he dreaded the task almost as much as he dreaded leaving New Sev’relain and the Pirate Isles in the care of Stillwater, but Hironous had told him to trust the man as his second in command, and Drake knew better than to ignore his brother’s future-tellings.

“Debris in the water.” The shout came from one of the pirates tending to the mizzenmast. The Fortune had taken a couple of knocks in the storm a few days back and was in need of some urgent repairs.

Limping across to the starboard side, Drake peered over the railing and wished, for the hundredth time that day, that his dead crewman hadn’t bitten his damned arm. The wound, the ship’s doctor assured him, wouldn’t fester, but that didn’t stop it hurting like eighteen Hells.

A couple of planks of wood floated past, attached to each other with a length of rope, a dark stain on the otherwise crystal blue waters. Drake peered out across the sea for any other signs of wreckage. There was an ominous feeling coiling its way through his gut, and either something bad had happened or last night’s salt beef was about to give him the shits.

“More up ahead, Captain.”

Drake fished his compass from his pocket and flipped it open. The Rest was dead ahead, and judging by the minute changes as the ship drifted a little here and there, it was close.

“Any bodies?” Drake shouted.

“I’m seeing plenty of gulls, Captain.”

Gulls were a bad omen, and then some. The birds meant carrion, and this close to wreckage, carrion meant bodies. Drake almost ordered more canvas to speed their approach, but the ship was in a bad way and he had a feeling that no matter what they were about to encounter, there was little any of them would be able to do.

It was only a few hours later when Drake caught his first glimpse of Fortune’s Rest, and what he saw didn’t put him in a merry mood. There was a sombre aura surrounding the ship as it sailed ever closer to its home. Even those pirates not on duty had come up on deck to see the cause of the foul atmosphere. For a while now they’d been seeing more and more debris. Planks of wood, barrels, even a whole mast still dragging canvas as it rode the waves. Even worse than the debris had been the bodies, so many Drake had given up counting. Some were just plain dead, and others looked like they’d been mutilated – and recently, judging by the colour of the skin.

Drake no longer cared for watching the debris or the bodies; his entire attention was on what was left of Fortune’s Rest. Only six months had passed since Drake had last been home, and back then it had stretched out wide and long. Over three hundred ships all lashed together and floating as one. Now, as Drake looked out over the start of his empire, he wagered the Rest held just half that, and he itched to find out exactly what had happened and why so many of his ships rested at the bottom of the sea.

Princess had known his captain for a good six years or so. He’d served as second mate while Zothus was Drake’s first, and it had seemed a natural progression to step up once Zothus was given his own ship. The point was, he’d known Drake for a good long while, and though he trusted his captain, there were times when the man scared him. For a start, it was impossible to know where the truth began and ended when it came to Drake Morrass.

Princess had seen enough to know Rin was real, and more than enough to know she was a power best avoided. In Princess’ experience, women had a habit of being capricious, vindictive, and even vicious, and Rin was undoubtedly female. So when Drake went about claiming he’d met the sea goddess and even hinted at fucking her, well, Princess simply wasn’t sure what to believe. Part of him wanted to trust Drake’s stories, wanted to believe that his captain was roguish enough to charm the pants off a goddess. But another part of him wanted to think otherwise, because the less he had to do with Rin, the better. In all the years he’d known Drake, however, Princess had never seen his captain quite so angry.

The captain hadn’t said a word for hours, letting Princess run the ship, set the course, and order the Fortune brought in to dock with what was left of the Rest. Drake stood at the bow, leaning over the side almost as though he was talking to the figurehead – which, now Princess thought about it, depicted the sea goddess he wanted so little to do with. As the crew tied off ropes and secured the Fortune to the Rest, Drake hopped across to the ship they’d docked to and strode away without a word, a host of folk from the Rest trying to keep pace and no doubt make apologies in the hope he wouldn’t have them killed.

Princess watched his captain storm away, then turned to find a fair few members of the crew waiting for orders or, more likely, waiting for permission to go and find somewhere to drink themselves unconscious.

Princess winced at the sudden responsibility and tried to decide what Drake would do in the situation. “Stay ready, lads,” he said. “Nobody leaves the ship ’til the captain figures what has occurred.”

There was a resounding groan from the men, and just then Beck emerged from below decks, looking equal parts beautiful and dangerous. Princess distrusted beautiful women; they tended to be so much more dangerous than the less pretty ones. Not that his experience with either was that extensive.

“Where’s Drake?” Beck said, sparing only a momentary glance at the spectacle of Fortune’s Rest.

Princess pointed out across the ship they were tied to and half smiled, half grimaced at the woman. “He went that way.”

Beck waited for a moment, clearly hopeful Princess would say more, then sighed and leapt across to the ship. Princess considered letting her go; in fact, he put some real thought into it, and hoped she would manage to get herself lost or killed. Unfortunately, Princess was as loyal to his captain as anyone would ever be, and he knew just how disappointed Drake would be if the Arbiter found herself an untimely end. With that thought, and admittedly a desire to be off the ship – even if off the ship meant on another ship – Princess hopped across the gap and set off at a jog after Beck.

He didn’t manage to catch up to her. The Rest had a number of problems when it came to navigation, and especially so for anyone who, like Princess, believed they knew where they were going. The further in towards the centre of the floating pleasure house one ventured, the more connections to other ships each vessel had, and it didn’t take long for a ship to have up to six different avenues of escape. There was also the fact that the configuration of the ships was always shifting.

Princess clearly remembered The Ajax being lashed firmly to Fires in the Sky, but now he found himself standing on the deck of The Ajax and recognising none of the ships it was connected to. He hated to admit it, but not only had he lost track of Beck, he himself was now lost. Luckily he found some consolation to his failure; unless the interior of The Ajax had changed, right below his feet was a tavern that specialised in getting folk very, very drunk.

Just as Princess remembered, the tavern on board The Ajax was dark and dirty, and smelled of stale beer and sweat. It was exactly the sort of place that made him feel right at home. Princess had grown up in a tavern just like it, serving drinks, collecting empty mugs, getting beaten for stealing dregs. It all seemed like someone else’s life now it was so long ago. The smells brought it all back and put a wide grin on his face.

Despite whatever had happened aboard the Rest, the tavern was busy. Plenty of drunkards lay about on tables with forgotten drinks resting in their unconscious hands, and even more folk were still awake and still buying booze. In one group sitting around a large table near the bar, Princess counted twelve folk in all, and their conversation seemed lively, if a little one-sided. Princess sauntered over to the bar, ordered himself an ale, and took the opportunity to eavesdrop.

“I hear he’s a devil,” said a man who looked like a sailor by trade and a drunkard by choice. “That’s why they’re after him. Killed more folk than most men have hot meals.”

One of the two women in the group, a tall wench with the tattooed face of a Riverlander, snorted. “Ain’t a devil, jus’ a man. Fuckin’ dangerous one, aye, but a man is all.”

“Can’t be,” said the sailor. “Way I hear it, blooded folk are droppin’ like shits in a privy. Ain’t no way a normal man could do that. Must be enchanted, or some such witchery.”

“Well, my dear men, women, and… I’m afraid I’m not entirely certain of your particular alignment, but nevertheless I shall include you anyway,” slurred a man in well-worn green trousers and a coat to match. “I had the profound pleasure of very recently being located within the Wilds and knowing the man in question by sight.”

“You seen the Black Thorn?” The woman leaned over the table, sloshing a little ale from her mug.

“I did, in fact, seen the Black Thorn,” the man in the suit said with a wave of his mug, spilling some of his own booze onto the table. “Oh, bugger, what a waste. Another round.”

A cheer went up from all the folk gathered around the table except for one, a large man dressed in a white shawl, with a white turban on top of a bronze half-helm. It might have been that the man hadn’t cheered because he wasn’t drinking, but Princess found the fellow’s eyes too disturbing to pay closer attention to him, and looked away.

“So what’s he look like?” the sailor pressed.

“Who?” said the man in the suit.

“The Black Thorn.”

“Oh. Right. Well, he’s a giant, you see. Ugliest monster you’ve ever laid eyes on. Well, except maybe for you. If any of the gods truly exist, they were not kind to you.”

“Fuck you.”

“Have you ever heard the saying ‘a face only a mother could love’? Well, I’m guessing she hasn’t seen yours in a while, eh?”

The group fell silent for a moment.

“What?” the ugly sailor looked like he might have been angry if not for the free booze headed his way.

The man in the suit sighed. “It really doesn’t matter. I sometimes wonder how you pirates are able to tie a rope so well when the simple concept of language so easily escapes you. No matter. So, he’s big and ugly…”

“Who?” asked the sailor.

“The Black Thorn. Please do keep up.”

Princess grinned and sipped his ale. He’d seen the Black Thorn once, when Drake had taken a ship the sellsword had been a passenger on; he couldn’t really claim to have met him though. Thorn was big and ugly, and no mistake, but he wasn’t really a giant. Still, he was plenty scary.

“I heard he sacked Carsington all on his own. Ran that bastard D’roan right out of his own city and left him poorer than… well, us,” said the sailor.

“Well, yes, that’s more or less the way of it. He may have had some three thousand men behind him, but he was certainly the first through the walls, and he cut a very striking figure in the process. Honestly, there are songs about it. I’m especially fond of the lyrics from ‘Fire in His Eye’, but then I’ve always been partial to dirty limericks. Say, does anyone know a rowdy shanty we could sing?”

“What about Jogaren?” The sailor seemed to have completely forgotten his earlier anger.

Princess saw the man in green exchange a glance with the man in white before answering. “What have you heard?”

The sailor looked uncertain. “Was a few months back, might have been shit. Lad came by from that way an’ said the Black Thorn camped his army right outside o’ Reingarde an’ challenged Willem Jogaren to a duel, what with him bein’ such a famous fighter an’ all. So Willem trots out on this big horse, wearin’ all shiny armour the likes o’ which ya find on Five Kingdoms knights, all plate an’ mail. Turns out the Black Thorn is as dark as his own reputation, an’ he had the blooded lord feathered with arrows before cuttin’ off his head an’ stakin’ it outside the city.”

The man in green paused his consumption of ale for a brief moment. “Yes, that’s the truth of it.”

“But the folk o’ Reingarde refused to surrender, even with their ruler dead, an’ a couple o’ days later every one of those blooded Jogarens turned up bloody in their beds. Word has it Thorn snuck in an’ cut ’em all up while they slept. Murder, plain an’ simple.”

“I believe Thorn is calling it pre-emptive revenge, actually.” The man in green nodded. “Regardless, Black Thorn and his Rose have vowed to rid the Wilds of the blooded and unite everyone under their rule. Who’s to quibble over the nefarious methods they use, so long as they get shot of those who have been choking the life out of the Wilds for generations, hmm?”

“That include the Brekoviches?” Princess said with a wide grin.

“I’d say it almost certainly does.” The man in green turned to the bar. “They are, after all – oh, fuck. Hello, Princess. I’d say it’s nice to see you, but I’m trying to cut down on the lies, you see. I presume it would be far too much to hope that you’re here alone?”

“Aye, Anders, far too much, mate. Sailed in just now. Gotta say, I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Well, no one likes surprises, Princess. May I suggest pretending I’m not here? Most people tend to find their lives so much more fulfilling upon taking that course of action.”

Princess shook his head. “I reckon Drake might want to see you.”

“Of course he doesn’t.” Anders’ smile looked about as genuine as a pickpocket’s fingers. “I’m such a terrible wastrel that no one is ever pleased to see me.”

Princess knocked back the last of his ale and stood. “Come on, mate. Don’t make this hard on me. My life is already a right fucking chore these days.”

The big man dressed in white rose slowly and positioned himself between Anders and Princess.

“Pern here seems to agree with me, and he’s a very worrying person.” Anders grinned as he peered around his bodyguard. “You know he killed six of those Drurr all on his own.”

Princess opened his mouth to reply, but stopped short of threatening the bigger man. “What Drurr?”