“It don’t look good, Cap’n,” Princess said. He looked as worried as Drake felt. The pirates of the isles weren’t ready for a war, and wouldn’t be for a while yet. Drake had only managed to unite two captains and already his enemies were throwing titans at him, while others were doing their damned best to cripple him. Worst of all was that folk looked to him to have a plan, to know everything that happened and how best to turn it to his advantage, and right now he had nothing. If he wasn’t careful, everyone would soon figure that out.
“Find Ruein,” Drake said to Princess. “Have him brought to the Fortune, and tell the lads they have three days for drinking and fuckery. After that we’re leaving.”
“What about us?” Anders said, grinning foolishly.
“I want you to go back to Rose and her Thorn and tell them I need some help. Feel free to remind them that they owe me.”
Anders sighed out a laugh. “Sure. Give me the easy job.” He turned around and started to walk away, the Honin on his heels. “What could possibly go wrong with telling the future king and queen of the Wilds…” His voice trailed off, and Drake stopped caring.
Beck had finished going through the dead Drurr’s pockets and was staring at Drake with care in her blue eyes that was even more damning than the more usual ice. “I still want to know, Drake.”
“More important things right now, Arbiter. Besides, not everyone gets what they want.” Drake made a show of leering at the Arbiter before walking away.
Ruein Portly was a former pirate captain who had sailed under the flag of a Sarth privateer until he boarded the wrong vessel. A Five Kingdoms princess had been secretly aboard, and upon her eventual arrival home, she had demanded Ruein be branded a true pirate. Two years on the run later, and unwilling to take the isles as residence, Ruein had received an offer he couldn’t refuse; Drake hid given him control of Fortune’s Rest and a healthy cut of the profits. Now Ruein was a fat old sailor with a balding head and a beard that stretched down to his expanding waist.
“About the attack, Drake,” Ruein said as soon as he opened the door to the Fortune’s cabin.
Drake cut the man off with a raised hand and a laugh. “Ain’t your fault, Ruein. As it happens, it appears to be my own. Though quite where those bastards got hold of one of my compasses is another matter.”
Ruein ambled over to the nearest stool and sat down with a groan – and without permission. The man had always seen himself as Drake’s equal, despite working for him, and that was just one of the reasons why Drake didn’t entirely trust him.
“Are we drinking to drowned treasure?” Ruein was eyeing both the rum bottle on Drake’s desk and the hulking form of Byron standing to Drake’s left.
“Help yourself.” Drake pushed the bottle a little further across the desk with his feet.
As Ruein grabbed the bottle and tipped a measure down his throat, Drake glanced at the door to the cabin. He’d expected Beck to be back by now, and had become so used to her presence that the lack of it had him worried. The last thing he wanted was to tell her about his time with the Drurr, but he found himself wanting her trust.
He looked back at Ruein. “Did you bring the ledgers?”
“Oh, aye.” Ruein gave the bottle a shake before apparently deciding he deserved another mouthful. “Outside in a chest.”
“A chest?”
Ruein shot Drake a glance. “There’s a lot of books, Drake. Took two men to carry it here.”
“You weren’t one of them, I assume.”
Ruein laughed. “Volm…” He coughed. “Gods, no.”
“Fetch them in and have a look, Byron,” Drake said, and the giant scuttled away before returning a moment later with a large chest between his arms. Ruein’s eyes widened.
“That lad could crush a man’s head in one hand,” he said. “I could put him to use here.”
“He has his uses right where he is.”
Byron sat down on the floor with the chest and slowly started emptying its contents, carefully sorting the books into piles and then leafing through the pages, his beady eyes roving over the numbers contained within. Drake sat patiently, waiting for Byron to finish and for Ruein to give his report.
“He alright?” Ruein took out a pipe and starting to pack it with leaf.
“He’s fine,” Drake said with a predatory smile. “He has a head for numbers. Would you like to tell me how the Rest is doing? Or would you like him to tell me?”
“Well, we have just lost a number of ships. Initial count puts it at about fifty or so.” Ruein paused to light his pipe. “Maybe a hundred. It’s a set back and, uh…”
“Coloured Sky,” Drake prompted.
Ruein winced and looked at Byron. Drake followed the fat pirate’s gaze and found Byron frowning at the books.
“How are they looking, Byron?”
“The Rest has been operating at a loss for a while now,” Ruein said in a rush. “Your orders were that almost any desire, with very few exceptions, be catered for. Well, there are some expensive tastes out there, and prices have had to be lowered of late.”
“Have they now?”
“Competition,” Ruein said with a hasty smile. “Why sail halfway around the world to the Rest when the same… desires can be fulfilled closer to home, and cheaper?”
“What competition?”
“The Slavers Guild.” Ruein sucked on his pipe.
Drake could ill afford a war on a financial front as well as the other wars he was already fighting, and there was simply no way he could win against the Slavers Guild. They had too much money and too many people, and they could operate legally in cities Drake couldn’t even be seen in. It was a war lost before it had begun.
Byron finished looking through the books and started neatly packing the leather-bound tomes back into the chest.
“So?” Drake said.
“Numbers add up,” Byron mumbled.
“But they don’t look good?”
The giant simpleton shook his head.
“How much is left in the coffers?”
“One million one hundred and twenty-two thousand gold bits and…”
“Um…” Ruein looked like he very much regretted the interruption. “With the sinking of Coloured Sky…”
“How much?”
“We kept most of the money on the ship.” Ruein quickly dragged at his pipe, then snatched his fingers away from it; he’d been smoking it so hot that he’d burnt them.
“How much?”
“One million bits were lost.”
“I see.” Drake drummed his fingers on the desk. “What you’re saying is, I’m practically a pauper.”
“You still have more than most men would make in ten lifetimes,” Ruein said with a pathetic smile.
Drake banged his fist down on the desk. “I am not most men,” he shouted at the pathetic excuse for a captain.
Ruein paled, his pipe all but forgotten and heavy beads of sweat springing from his bald head to run down the creases in his fat face. Byron started humming to himself.
“Shit.” Drake stood from his desk to calm the giant down. “It’s all savvy, Byron. I’m not angry with you. Why don’t you take those ledgers down to your bunk and memorise them? That’d be fun, yeah? Then you can store them with all the others.”
Byron stopped humming and nodded eagerly.
“Off you go then.” Drake waited for the giant to make his way from the cabin, carrying the heavy chest as though it weighed nothing.
“I need eighty thousand bits brought to the Fortune.”
“The Rest won’t be able to operate with no…”
“I’m breaking up the Rest. Any ships already able to cross the deep will come with me to the isles, same as any sailor wants to come. Any that don’t will be put ashore at Korral. Sell off anything that can be sold, and use what you get to get the ships that don’t come with me repaired and outfitted for battle.”