“Fine. Get your shit out of my cabin, now.”
Aimi smiled then, and Keelin realised he’d lost.
“And from now on,” Keelin growled as Aimi clambered over the side of the nest, “you can call me captain.”
She grinned at him. “I already do, Captain Stillwater.” Then she was gone.
Aimi scuttled down the rigging as fast as any monkey, leapt the last six feet, and landed on the deck in a crouch, all while wearing a grin she couldn’t even begin to hide. With nothing but her guile, she’d successfully escaped the mediocrity of what would probably have been quite a short life tending a tavern in a run-down pirate town. That she’d traded in those particular boots to become a pirate was another matter altogether, and a decision she hoped she wouldn’t regret down the line. Aimi had never seen a man, or woman, hang, but she’d heard it was the popular way for civilised society to deal with their ilk, and like or not, she was now one of them.
“How did it go?” Feather said, matching Aimi’s stride as she made for the captain’s cabin.
“Exactly as I planned.” Feather was a sweet boy, innocent considering his line of work, and quite gullible. She’d used him to a degree in her manipulations, but he seemed none the wiser and more than happy to help.
“I thought he’d throw you off the ship for sure.”
Aimi shrugged.
“I mean, you did stab him.”
“Only a little.” It was a weak defence at best. “But I’m part of the crew now, and soon to be an invaluable part. I need somewhere to sleep.”
“With the rest of the crew?” It was clear from Feather’s tone that he thought it a bad idea.
Aimi chewed on her lip, her hand on the door. “For now,” she said idly, already forming a plan to work her way back into the captain’s cabin.
Kebble Salt was an easy man to find, and the reason for that also happened to be the reason Keelin needed to talk to him. The refugees and the crews of the pirate ships alike respected him, and even feared him to some degree. His rumoured exploits during the battle with the Man of War had grown and grown to the point of idiocy. Keelin had even heard that he’d called down lightning bolts to smite his enemies rather than shoot bullets from his rifle. Added to the renown brought by the battle was his watchful diligence over the fledgling town and the fact that he had indeed killed a sand monster on his own with a single long-range shot. People were in awe of Kebble, and that awe was founded on respect.
The little watchtower the refugees had built for Kebble was growing, and now stood a good ten feet from the sand. The better vantage point gave the rifleman a full view of the beached Man of War and the growing settlement, and everyone felt safer with him watching over them. Keelin called up the tower before starting the climb; a man as dangerous as Kebble Salt was not a man he wanted to surprise.
“Everything quiet?” Keelin said as he gained the floor of the watchtower. Kebble was scanning the beach through squinting eyes. Despite the heat and humidity, the man had somehow managed to maintain his moustache perfectly. Keelin, on the other hand, had nearly a week of patchy stubble loitering around his chin and neck. He decided he’d take the time to shave once he was back on board his ship.
“More or less,” Kebble answered in a frustratingly calm voice.
“Fair enough,” Keelin said once it was clear Kebble had said all he was going to. “I have a proposition for you, Kebble. This little town of New Sev’relain needs a governor. Someone who can run things, keep the peace, and make decisions while Drake is gone. I think it should be you. Everyone looks up to you, they respect you. They’ll follow your orders…”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Kebble took a few moments to answer. “I’ll stay on board The Phoenix.”
“Why is it nobody is willing to leave my ship?” Keelin said with an exaggerated sigh. “First Aimi tricks me into letting her stay, and now you simply refuse to leave. I might as well go ask Smithe to piss off and make my day complete.”
Kebble let out a deep chuckle. “I cannot speak for anyone else, but for me. I will go where you do, because I believe near you, I may find my death.”
Keelin sighed again; his life appeared to be taking a turn for the unusual. “I can see you probably think that’s the craziest thing I’ve heard today,” he said with a healthy dose of sarcasm. “But you’re wrong.”
Kebble turned towards Keelin with sad eyes. “I am older than you think, Captain Stillwater. I have seen family and friends born, grow old, and die. I have lived long enough to see old magics disappear from the world and new ones take their place. In this unnaturally long life I have lived, I have done things that no man should ever do, and I am forced to live with the memories of those actions. And the reasons for them.”
“Huh?”
“I am cursed, Captain Stillwater. Cursed with immortality. And I have done everything short of taking my own life to cure myself of that curse. I have thrown myself into wars that had nothing to do with me, choosing to fight for the losing side only to survive and turn the tide. I have challenged men and women many times my equal to single combat only to best them and facilitate their deaths instead of my own. I have tended plague-stricken folk guaranteed to be contagious and caught no disease. I once even stormed a burning building on the point of collapse simply to find an old woman’s blind cat.” Kebble let out a weary sigh. “The cat leapt out of a window just before the building came down, and I had no choice but to follow it. Always I have skirted the issue of taking my own life, and always I have survived. With you, I…”
“Why not just take your own life?”
“The world has strict rules on the issue, and I have no wish to become a wraith, waking once more to find myself serving aboard the Cold Fire.”
“The ghost ship?” Keelin laughed. “It’s a children’s story.”
“It is not. I have seen it many times. A ship so light it could almost be smoke, it sails the ocean and leaves no wake.”
“Or it could just be mist on the water.”
“Crewed by wraiths, the souls of those who have committed suicide over water. It haunts the oceans. It haunts those who should be dead.”
Keelin would have liked to say he believed Kebble, but instead he was just beginning to doubt the man’s sanity. Of course, there were many insane people in the world, and some of them were too damned useful to dismiss.
“So you’re not leaving the ship then?”
Kebble laughed and shook his head. “I believe with you I may find a god willing to take pity on me and cure my curse.” Keelin sighed heavily, then turned and began his climb down to the sand. It had already been a long day, and he had yet to see Drake.
By the time Keelin found himself on board the Fortune it was fast approaching dark, and he was in no mood to decline when Drake offered a glass of something stronger than rum. No matter that the town might be running low on booze, it appeared the captain who had built that town was more than amply stocked. Taking a deep swig of what appeared to be a particularly fearsome peach brandy, Keelin settled in to hear what was to be said. That both Morley and Princess were present didn’t encourage Keelin to predict good things.
“The town is coming along well,” Drake started. “But there’s issues. Expansion into the jungle is one. A real town needs to be sunk into solid earth, not sand. Now, we ain’t sure how the forest is gonna react to that, but every island here in the isles has its quirks, right?”
Morley let out a barely audible groan, and Keelin silenced him with a stare.
“Putting New Sev’relain on the map is one thing,” Drake continued. “Folk need to know the place is here if we’re ever wanting them to visit and trade. Ain’t exactly a pirate town without the visitation of piratical elements, and we need the influence this place has to grow, not shrink and lose folk to Fango.”