“Are you saying you can’t control your crew?” The woman stared at Keelin over her knees.
“What? Of course I can… most of them. Look, if you’d rather take your chances out there with them…” Keelin stormed over to the cabin door, unlocked it, and threw it open. Feather was waiting on the other side, and he jumped to attention. “Then go ahead.”
“Captain?”
“Shut up, Feather,” Keelin growled, still waiting for Aimi’s response.
“You promise you won’t try to fuck me?”
“I honestly can’t think of anything I’d rather do less,” Keelin lied.
“Then I’ll stay.”
“Wonderful,” Keelin shouted. He stepped over the threshold and slammed the door behind him, only then realising that he still wasn’t wearing any boots.
“Captain?” said Feather.
Keelin buried his head in his hands. “What is it?”
“Just thought ya should know that woman ya ordered put in ya cabin is still there.”
Chapter 20 - Fortune
The man let out a groan, and his eyelids fluttered. His mouth worked open and closed, and he tasted the wooden deck he was lying on. A moment later, a confused expression graced his previously peaceful face. His eyes slowly opened and blinked away the blurry confusion.
“Good morning,” Drake said with cheer. “I was starting to wonder if you were ever gonna wake up.”
“What…” the man started. He coughed.
“Probably a little thirsty, eh?” Drake placed a water skin in front of him. “Go on, have a drink.”
The man reached out for the skin, but stopped short when the shackles around his wrists clattered on the deck. He looked down at the cold iron for a moment, before Drake saw realisation light in his eyes.
“You…” He coughed again.
“Go on, Admiral.” Drake pointed towards the water skin with his good hand. “Just water. You’ll feel better after a slurp, and then you can insult and threaten me as much as you please.”
The man hesitated for a moment before the needs of the body won out. He reached forwards, grabbing the water skin and squeezing mouthful after mouthful down his throat.
“I hear you’re supposed to sip when dehydrated,” Drake said, earning a glare from the admiral. “Isn’t that right?” Drake looked at Beck, who was leaning against the wall next to the door.
Beck shrugged and went back to cleaning one of her little pistols. Drake had no idea how she could do such delicate work in the dim light of the little cabin, but there were many things about Arbiters he didn’t entirely understand.
“My men?” The admiral pulled himself up into a more gentlemanly sitting position, placed his back against the wall, and smoothed down his naval jacket – which, Drake had to admit, had seen better days.
“Dead,” Drake replied with an easy grin. “Most of ’em, anyway. Couple of them are going to live, I’ll see to that.”
Having smoothed down his jacket as well as he could manage, the admiral set about running his fingers through his moustache and bedraggled hair.
“I like that,” Drake said to Beck. “Even in chains and certain peril, he takes the time to smarten up his appearance.”
“That’s the difference between gentlemen and rogues.” The admiral sneered. “No matter what you do to me, I will always be a gentlemen. No matter how high you might rise, you will always be a rogue.”
Drake mulled the statement over for a moment. “I think I prefer being a rogue.” He glanced at Beck. “Think she does too.” Beck snorted.
“So let’s get down to business, Admiral. You’re done. Ship captured, crew killed, and ain’t nobody expecting you back home for a while at least. Ain’t nobody going to come rescue you. It would be… sensible for you to answer my questions.”
“You will get nothing from me, pirate.”
“Do you know where you are?”
“Aboard your ship?”
“Aye, a small, dark cell on board the Fortune. Right at the bottom, so when we get sailing seawater will slosh in and out and in and out. Do you know who I am?”
Drake saw the man hesitate before nodding.
“Good. This lady behind me is Arbiter Beck.”
The man’s face twisted in disgust. “No Arbiter would ever work for a pirate.”
“He’s not wrong,” Beck said sweetly. Drake turned to find her grinning at him. She may have saved his life more than once already, but Drake truly wished she’d be a little more cooperative. Just once, he would like people to do as he wanted with being manipulated, coerced, or threatened into it. Of course, he had to admit, that would remove the pleasure of bending them to his will.
“We got three ways of doing this,” Drake continued. “You can either answer my questions willingly – that’d be the gentlemanly way of doing things – or you can answer her questions.” He nodded towards Beck. “Or we can do this the old-fashioned way.”
“I won’t be asking him any of your questions,” Beck said. “I’m not a member of your crew, Drake. And I don’t take orders from you.” She pulled the door open and stepped outside.
The admiral let out a very noble-sounding laugh that made Drake want to punch the man – and he might have if his right arm hadn’t been hanging in a sling.
“I don’t know why you have an Arbiter on your ship, Morrass, but as you can see, the servants of Volmar are not easily corrupted.”
Drake cracked the admiral a golden-toothed grin over his shoulder. “We’ll see about that.”
Beck wasn’t angry; she was indifferent. It was the curse of being a beautiful woman; all of her life, men had been trying to take advantage of her. After she’d earned her coat, things had been a little different. No matter how much the average fool might be attracted to her, most would pale at the prospect of spending prolonged periods of time with an Arbiter. Of course, that had angered her at first. The only thing worse than the attention of men had been losing that attention, but she’d got used to it mostly because she’d realised it didn’t truly matter. Their desire for her and knowledge that they could never have her gave her power over them and, whether they ignored her or not, she retained that power.
Drake was different. He wanted her – any fool with eyes could see that – but he didn’t pursue her, and neither did he act like a man who knew he would never have her. It was all frustrating to the point of murder, an act Beck was not beneath, but she had given Hironous Vance her word that she would protect Drake Morrass.
With a frustrated growl, Beck stopped and levelled a punch at the door to her cabin. The wood neither gave an inch nor cared at the unsolicited violence.
“You got an issue, take it out on me, not the ship,” came Drake’s voice from behind. That he’d followed her, after she’d quite clearly stormed away, only served to make Beck angrier. She turned, and as soon as the pirate captain was within reach, she grabbed him and shoved him up against the wall. Beck was smaller than Drake, but with a whispered blessing of strength, and his back pressed firmly against the wooden wall, it was an easy thing to lift the pirate off his feet with just her left arm. With her right, she sent a punch into his stomach before stepping away and letting him collapse onto the floor.
“Fuck,” Drake wheezed out between coughs and splutters. “You hit… hard.”
In truth Beck had pulled her punch significantly. With her blessing of strength she could likely kill a normal man with one strike, but she wouldn’t break her promise to Inquisitor Vance. She pulled open the door to her cabin.
“Obviously I touched a nerve,” Drake said from the floor.
Beck stopped. “My magic is not some tool to facilitate your torture of a man. It is not a plaything, and it is to be used only in the service of Volmar.” Beck might have imagined it, but it almost felt as if the ship shook at the mention of her god’s name.