“So we’re gonna answer with everything we have. The Fortune and The Phoenix and all of you are just the start. By the time they next come at us I intend to have every pirate that calls the isles their home, and every ship they sail, ready to fight alongside you.
“This is our home,” he shouted. “This is her kingdom. And we are Rin’s chosen!” Again the crews cheered, and again Drake strutted for them.
“Break out the rum,” he said when the noise had died down enough that he could be heard. “Two portions per man, and then back to work. I want these ships ready to sail by nightfall.”
Beck realised she was standing behind Drake, but couldn’t recall moving from the port side railing. She quickly rectified the situation by crossing back to the railing and arranging herself as if she’d never left it. The problem was that Drake was compelling, and his words were inspiring. Beck found herself caught up in them and wanting to help. It was unusual for her, a woman who had built a reputation of indifference.
“Is it still there?” Drake said as he approached.
“Yes.” Beck took care to keep her voice neutral. “Although only a couple of people seem to care anymore. Fancy words, you said. Were they for their benefit?” Beck waved towards the two ships. “Or for hers?”
Drake smiled. “Both. They needed something else to think about, and it never hurts to appease the local deity, eh. So you believe in her now?”
Beck ignored the question. It was difficult not to believe in Rin, given the timely appearance of a leviathan directly below her, but she certainly wasn’t about to admit that to Drake Morrass, nor convert. She did decide it would be prudent to refrain from speaking Volmar’s name when over water in the future.
“Thought so,” Drake said. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go torture a man.”
“I can help,” Beck said before she could think of a reason to stop.
“Eh?”
“You need to know what he knows.”
“Might help save lives. Might help win the war that’s coming.”
Beck turned and pinned Drake with a stare. “I’ll help.”
“Why?”
“Does it matter why?” Beck attempted to seize hold of Drake’s will but, as always, it proved to be as slippery as the man’s reputation. “You want my help. I’m willing to give it.”
Drake walked out of the little cell, leaving a broken wreck of a man behind. The admiral was kneeling on the wooden floor with his head buried in his hands and great, racking sobs escaping from his lips. It appeared he could be made to be less than a gentleman after all. Drake knew the man’s breaking had been inevitable the moment Beck had entered the room, the moment he realised that his faith in the Inquisition had been a lie. The moment he realised that Drake had corrupted an Arbiter. The subsequent questioning, during which Drake had learned everything the admiral knew about Sarth’s invasion of the Pirate Isles, had reduced the man to tears. To see him struggle to resist Beck’s compulsion and fail, to see the man’s will subverted by such a small woman – Drake would be lying to himself if he tried to deny the whole situation had turned him on.
“Did you get everything?” Beck said from behind. Drake felt her compulsion wash over him and take hold of nothing. That he was one of the few people who could resist her subversion of a person’s will only turned him on even more.
Drake stopped and turned on his heel so suddenly that Beck almost walked into him. She was mere inches away from him, close enough to touch, close enough to smell. He smiled at her, making certain his one golden tooth showed.
“Not yet,” he said with a wink.
He expected her to hit him, or insult him, or hit and insult him – but she didn’t. For a few moments Arbiter Beck just stared up at Drake. Then she snorted, pushed past him roughly, and stormed away to her cabin. Drake watched her go with a smile plastered to his face. Not for the first time, he caught himself imagining what she’d look like naked. His imagination was not left wanting.
Climbing ladders was not the easiest thing to do with one arm in a sling. Nor was it the first time Drake had done it. An unfortunate consequence of being a pirate was that he spent much, if not most, of his life on board a ship. It was impossible to sail without climbing ladders, ropes, and rigging, and occasionally free-climbing up the outside hull even as the ship was cresting and falling through thirty-foot waves. Drake hoped he’d never have to repeat that experience, but if it had taught him one thing, it was to not complain at the relatively simple climb of a six-foot ladder leading to the main deck.
Up top he found his crew had ceased their celebrations and were well into the act of getting the ship squared away. Refugees were being led onto the captured Man of War, and supplies were being moved the other way. The wounded were all gone from the deck. Those that were likely to live were recovering in the mess, while those that weren’t were also being moved to the Man of War. There was still plenty of blood on deck, and it was impossible not to notice the smell of it along with the stench of loosened bowels – an unfortunate side effect of death.
“Princess,” Drake shouted over to his first mate as he limped his way to the captain’s cabin. There was nothing in the world Drake wanted to do right now more than sleep – with the one possible exception of Arbiter Beck – but sleep would have to wait. He had more pressing concerns.
“Aye, Cap’n,” Princess said as he fell in line with Drake. The man looked terrible, with one eye swollen shut and a larger, darker bag than Drake had ever seen under the other.
“How are preparations?”
“Could be better,” Princess admitted. “We’re down a few men and they took a spell off their feet with the rum, but they’re all back up to it now. We should be ready to sail by night. Hopefully, Cap’n.”
“Good enough.” Drake nodded. “Princess, I need you to get over to the Man of War and find the ship’s charts. Bring them to me as soon as you find them, and under no circumstances is anyone else to see them. Good?”
“Aye, Cap’n. Something wrong?”
Drake stopped outside his cabin and fixed his first mate with a blank stare. “Get to it, Princess.”
Chapter 21 - Starry Dawn
“Sail starboard!”
Elaina threw the rope she’d been fixing aside and leapt to her feet. She sprinted to the starboard side and reached for her monoscope. Sure enough, there was the tell-tale white of a sail at the very edge of visible range.
“Change course, put us on her,” she shouted to Ed the Navigator. “Pollick, The moment you get a glimpse of what she is, you yell.”
“Wouldn’t ya rather it be a surprise, Cap?” Four-Eyed Pollick called down from the nest.
“Don’t get smart with me! Remember where the Hells we are and keep all four of your eyes peeled.”
Elaina went back to her rope. It was tangled, frayed, torn, ripped, and mouldy, but if there was one thing she’d learned growing up in the Pirate Isles, it was that no matter how much like shit something seemed, it could be made near good as new with a lot of hard work. She sat back down on the deck and took one of the knotted sections in hand, working it back and forth against itself to loosen the salty crust that formed on all knots. Some captains didn’t like doing this sort of work; they preferred to distance themselves from their crew and sit in their cabins, staring at charts and pretending they were busy when really they were just plain lazy. Elaina was not one of those captains. If there was a job to be done, she was the first to sign up for the task, and her cabin was little more than a place to sleep. She preferred to be up on deck, to be able to see the ocean and the sky.