“We’ll give it two or three more days,” Geran replied under his breath. “Something may turn up, and I’d still like to know what Kamoth is planning.”
The tiefling grimaced under his magical guise. “Very well, but I will think twice before I accompany you on your next ill-considered venture.”
Later that morning Geran was hard at work splicing an old, well-worn line-a particularly tedious and exacting job that the tattooed Northman Skamang had foisted off on him-when the cry of “Sail ho! Fine on the port beam!” came from the lookout aloft. He stood and shaded his eyes with his hand, looking for the other ship. This time it was indeed a fair distance off, easily seven or eight miles, and all that could be seen of it was the mast. Sorsil summoned Narsk to the quarterdeck, and the two conferred quickly before the gnoll ordered the helmsman to turn and sent the watch aloft to crowd on more sail. The wind favored Moonshark; by good fortune the pirate galley was well positioned to run down her quarry with the morning sun at her back and a freshening crosswind that let Narsk aim the galley’s bow a little ahead of the other ship.
Geran glanced at the sky. It was overcast, but no storms or squalls seemed likely to appear. And they were at least thirty or forty miles from any sort of harbor. Unless the cog was faster than she looked, he guessed they’d catch her in a couple of hours. Most of the crew was gathered along the rail, gazing greedily at the other ship. Some were already picking out weapons for the anticipated boarding.
Hamil and Sarth climbed up from the galley, where they’d been sent to help Tao Zhe with his scullery work. The halfling looked around at the pirate crew then up at Geran. “What’s going on?”
“Narsk’s sighted prey,” Geran said in a low voice. He pointed. “We’re trying to chase down that cog there.”
“Well, there it is,” Hamil murmured after peering over the rail. What do we do if Narsk catches her? he asked. Do we go along with the rest of the crew and keep to our ruse? Or do we interfere and keep Narsk from taking that ship?
Geran looked down at his friend, brow creased in worry. “I don’t know,” he said. He should have anticipated they might find themselves in this very situation. He didn’t doubt the three of them could find a way to fight ineffectively or hang back from the worst of what was coming, but their shipmates might notice, and that would do very little to advance their standing in the crew. More to the point, it would hardly absolve the three of them of responsibility for not thwarting a pirate attack that they were in position to foil. But it was hard to see how that wouldn’t give away their ploy and bring their effort to infiltrate the Black Moon to an end.
Sarth glanced at Hamil; the ghostwise halfling was evidently repeating his question for the tiefling. Sarth looked around to see if any of the crew were in earshot and leaned on the rail beside Geran. “A difficult decision,” he said. “I am not sure how to counsel you, Geran, but I suppose you could consider the matter in this way: What would have happened if we weren’t aboard? If it seems that Moonshark would catch the merchant and take her without our help, our participation wouldn’t change what fate had already intended for that ship. For that matter, it might not be in our power to prevent an attack. There are only three of us, after all. If we can’t prevent Narsk from taking that ship, then we might as well maintain the ruse. What we learn here may save other lives on some other day.”
“I hear you,” Geran answered. “But, as it turns out-we are aboard and nothing is fated at the moment. Besides, we’d have the advantage of surprise and your magic as well. If we deal with a few key crewmen right at the outset, the rest might lose their nerve.”
“I think I’m with Sarth on this,” Hamil said softly. “I’m not anxious to pick a fight with fifty enemies for the sake of total strangers. But we might be able to interfere in another way. If the ship were to lose a sail or the rudder were to fail …”
“It will mean a fight if we are caught at it,” Sarth answered.
Geran thought of what Nimessa had told him about the fate of Whitewing’s crew. If they stood aside or went along because the merchant was doomed anyway, they’d still be a party to the worst sort of murder. They might be able to defeat Moonshark’s crew by killing Narsk, Sorsil, and perhaps Skamang or Khefen quickly … but it was probably more likely that any such mad assault would succeed only in getting all three of them killed, and he was not any more eager than Hamil to lose his life for a handful of strangers.
“If we can keep Narsk and the rest of the cutthroats on this ship from murdering the crew and passengers of some hapless ship, I think we have to try,” he said. “Hamil’s suggestion has merit. We’ll just have to make sure no one notices.”
Over the next hour, Moonshark steadily closed on the cog. Geran was surprised to see that the merchant ship didn’t try to flee, but instead kept to her original course. Either she hadn’t noticed the pirate galley on her beam-which seemed more and more unlikely-or the captain blithely assumed that he sailed in friendly waters. He supposed it was possible that the merchant captain had already determined for himself that there was no escape and therefore hoped to bluff his way out of an attack by a simple show of boldness, but that struck him as even more unlikely. As the pirate galley slowly overtook the merchant cog, Geran and his comrades began to plan their act of sabotage.
They were well along in their planning, and the cog was a little less than a mile off, when Sorsil shouted down at the main deck from her position by the helm. “Back to your stations!” the first mate called. “Go on, you dogs! There’s nothing for us here!”
Geran and his companions exchanged looks then turned to the quarterdeck. Narsk gripped the rail, glaring at the cog with his fangs bared. Then he snarled something to Sorsil and stormed off the quarterdeck, disappearing into his cabin once more. Sorsil took one more look at the cog then ordered the helmsman to turn away. Moonshark turned smartly to starboard and cut across the wake of the ship a mile astern of her, now running downwind.
“What in the world?” Geran asked aloud. “What was that about?” He heard a few murmurs from other crew too, likely expressing the same sentiment.
“Narsk gave up the pursuit,” Sarth observed. “Why would he do that?”
“Look!” Hamil said. “The merchant’s raised a pennant.”
Geran turned back to the cog, now falling astern. A pennant floated in the breeze from the ship’s mainmast; he was sure it hadn’t been there a few minutes ago, so the cog’s captain must have just ordered it flown. It was a quartered flag of red and gold, and Geran knew it well. “That’s a House Marstel ship,” he said.
“Marstel? As in the Marstels of Hulburg?” Sarth asked.
“Yes,” Geran replied. “That double-dealing bastard! He’s paid off the Black Moon to leave his ships alone. And he was the one who argued for the harmach to do something about piracy.”
“Badgering the harmach to do something likely kept other merchant companies from making a deal with the pirates,” Hamil said. “Lord Marstel’s a sly old fox if that’s the case. I never would have thought he had it in him.”
“Nor would I,” Geran said. He frowned, trying to figure out what to make of it. Then the pirates crowded along the rail drifted back to their duties and the ship returned to its routine.
The crew’s disappointment at being turned away from a prize in their grasp likely accounted for what happened that evening. Moonshark was too small to have anything like a mess deck; the galley was located in the forecastle, and Tao Zhe, the cook, ladled the evening’s stew into whatever cup or bowl each man brought to him. After receiving warm food and a hunk of coarse bread, the deckhands retreated to whatever corner of the main deck they could find that offered shelter from the weather and a good place to sit and eat. Geran, Hamil, and Sarth had just settled down to their unappetizing meals when several crewmen belonging to Skamang’s fist sauntered up to them. A round-bellied Chessentan named Pareik, who shaved his head and wore large gold earrings, led the band. “Get up, new fish!” he snarled. “That’s our place you’re in.”