Corsair (12 page)

“I sort of figured you’d feel like that,” Luynes said. “That’s why I signed you. I figured any man with ambition like you’ve shown wouldn’t worry overmuch about the laws of a faraway place, particularly when he can get rich by being a pragmatist. Most of the world doesn’t agree with this namby-pamby shit anyway.

“Shitfire, Gareth, I’ll bet that half the peasants in Saros are nothing but slaves, what with their duties and oaths to their lords and estates.”

Gareth thought that was likely true, but the lowest scut at home still called his soul his own.

“Now give me a hand with something.”

Gareth followed Luynes into his cabin, and the man opened one of his seachests and lifted out a cylinder wrapped in rags. He unwrapped it, and Gareth saw a very strange-looking lantern, with ornate carvings on it.

“This,” Luynes said, “is our safe passage among the Linyati. It took damned near a week of negotiating, and a bit of gold, before they were willing to trust me with it.”

Luynes took the lantern on deck, and to the mizzen mast. Now Gareth noted the mast had four climbing steps on it, and, above them, a clever metal hook.

“Hold the lamp for me.”

Gareth took the lantern, and Luynes took flint and steel from his pouch. He opened a small door in the lantern, and struck sparks, muttering a few words in a language Gareth didn’t know.

“Now, if you’ll hang this up there …”

Gareth obeyed. There was no heat to be felt at all, and he saw no flame within.

“I think it went out, sir.”

“It’s fired,” Luynes said. “The light it gives is hard to see, except by certain eyes. But we’ll be able to make it out by night.”

And truly, when it grew dark, a strange, greenish glow illuminated the helm and the men on watch.

• • •

“I’m damned,” Thom Tehidy said, “if I’ll go a-slaving.”

“Nor me,” Labala said, and there were whispers of agreement from the half-dozen new men around Gareth and his friends. It was the third watch of the night, and they were on the main deck, near the stern, hidden by the main deck above and the bulk of the covered cannon next to them.

“But what choice do we have?” a man asked. “We signed the articles, and I believe if we don’t follow Luynes’s orders he’ll likely bash in our pates with a marlinspike and toss us to the sharks.

“I’ve never known a slaver before, but I don’t think anybody who is, is going to worry a rat’s tinkle about somebody like me.”

Knoll N’b’ry nodded somberly. “You’re likely right. I saw the way that sheepshagger looked at me, and was damned grateful Gareth gave me that ‘shut your lip’ look.”

“Gareth,” Tehidy said, “you’ve just been listening. What’re your thoughts?”

“First is we’ve got to keep this short,” Gareth said. “We don’t know if the skipper or any of his friends have any of the Gift for eavesdropping — ”

“Not likely,” Labala interrupted. “I went and figured out a little spell that should make anybody interested think we’re just wondering about the change, and not thinking of doing anything about it.”

“Which is pretty true,” another sailor said. “What
can
we do?”

“Start with the numbers,” Gareth said. “Twenty-five of the forty-one men aboard have never sailed with Luynes.”

“But that doesn’t mean a good number of ‘em won’t follow him,” a sailor said.

“That’s probably true,” Gareth said.

“First choice we might have is jumping ship when we make the next port,” a sailor said.

“Won’t work,” Thom said gloomily. “I was polishing the binnacle, and keeping my ears open, and heard Kelch and Rooke talking about the next landfall, and how they’re looking to cut loose with some of the slave women they can rent. I wouldn’t guess a port that’s got slave whores is likely to treat an antislaving swab very kindly.”

Gareth nodded.

“Luynes told me, after dinner tonight, we’ll be docking for water and fresh provisions at a city called Herti. He told me it isn’t one of the Linyati holdings, but it might as well be. He’ll be meeting with his Linyati lords for sailing orders.

“A sailor without a ship in a port like that could be well in danger of getting chained up by the Linyati, I’d guess.”

Gareth unconsciously touched the scar on his face. “That’s not for me,” he said, and saw nods of agreement.

“Second is we can try to seize the ship.”

“Mutiny,” someone whispered.

“A hanging offense,” Labala said. “Even I know that.”

“And Luynes hasn’t done anything illegal,” Gareth said. “There’s nothing that I know of on paper about our real trade. And he could probably make a good case, even if he admitted to being a slaver, that we were obeying lawful orders having nothing to do with our cargo.”

“The King’s Admiralty courts back in Saros
always
back the officers,” a man said. “I’ve seen men hanged along the waterfront for mutiny.”

“As have I,” Gareth said. “But let’s say we could take the ship.”

“The odds are close,” Knoll said.

“No,” Gareth said. “Not if we could take down Luynes and the mates. If we’ve a leader and a plan, the other men and the bosun will follow us.”

“How can you be so damn’ sure?” Tehidy said.

“I don’t know why I know it,” Gareth said quietly. “But I do.” There was a sudden touch of steel in his voice.

Tehidy looked at him in surprise, then pursed his lips thoughtfully.

“Assuming all that’s true,” Thom said, changing the subject, “we’re still deep in unfriendly waters. Isn’t that weird light you helped put up signaling the Linyati that we’re on their side, Gareth?”

“That’s what Luynes told me,” Gareth said.

“Slaving,” a man said. “It’s bitter to the mind and the tongue.”

“You’re right,” Gareth said. “But all I can think of right now is for us to let a little time pass, and maybe a better alternative will crop up.”

“You mean
an
alternative,” Knoll N’b’ry said glumly. “Right now, we’ve got none at all.”

• • •

Gareth woke to the thump of running feet and the shouts of the crew. He pulled on pants, started out of his tiny cabin, then buckled on the sword belt Cosyra had given him and went on deck.

Standing close on either side were two Linyati warships, low, black, rakish hulls with red lateen sails, three guns on a side, two more in the prow, and two sternchasers. The rails were lined with Linyati sailors, some with belted cutlasses, others with ready muskets.

Gareth went to his gun, found someone had already yanked the canvas cover off, and moments later one of the hands trotted up with a stand of balls and another with bagged powder.

“Stand by your guns,” Kelch shouted from the quarterdeck. “But don’t load. Yet.”

The Linyati guns were ready for action, already run out.

Gareth had done some arranging of the watch list, so his friends were on his gun crew.

“Grapeshot, like in the stories,” Thom said in a low voice. “Sweep their quarterdeck clean.”

“That’s stupid,” Knoll objected. “Chainshot, for certain. Cut a mast down, and that ship’ll fall back in confusion.”

“Don’t go for easy,” Labala said. “Put one of those big bastard cannonballs under his waterline and sink him as he floats.”

“Thank you, my admirals,” Gareth said. “We’ll do whatever the captain orders.”

For long moments nothing happened as the three ships sailed side by side.

“Look at that damned lantern,” Knoll said.

Its green light flared, now clearly visible in daylight.

A small square hatch slid open in the rear cabin of the nearest Linyati ship. He tried to see who was looking out, but there was nothing but blackness to be seen.

Suddenly a high, ululating squealing came, Gareth thought from the cabin. The Linyati along the railings ran to winches, lines, and the ship tacked right, away from the
Steadfast.
The second ship on the other side did the same, a mirror image, turning away.

“Guess we passed muster?” Gareth hazarded.

“Probably,” Thom said. “Wonder what that screeching was. Sounded like somebody doing something awful to a Pig.”

“Maybe,” Labala said, and there was a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Maybe that’s something we hope we never know.”

An hour later, a lookout sighted land, rolling hills and a desert scape. Luynes gathered the crew, and confirmed what Gareth had heard: Herti was a neutral port, but controlled by the Linyati. There’d be no shore leave for the hands, for they’d be docked for no more than half a day.

• • •

Herti was an old, evil city, white, low buildings baking in the wind that came in from the desert behind. Ships of many nations sat at anchor, rolling in the slight swell that came into the wide-mouthed harbor, but many of them were Linyati, either warships or broadbeamed merchantmen, three-masted, triple-deck galleons, twice as big as the
Steadfast.

Gareth noted this didn’t seem to be a trusting port. There were plenty of open wharves, yet most ships preferred to tie up to one of the buoys scattered around the harbor and deal with the landsmen via boats. Most of them also kept swivel guns manned, and aimed at the lighters that came alongside to load or unload.

Luynes seemed to have no fear … or, more likely, Gareth thought, was a firm friend of whatever depravity held sway here. He brought the
Steadfast
neatly to a large wharf in the middle of the docks. The wind was blowing from a distant ramshackle building, evidently a fish plant.

Labala wrinkled his nose at the reek.

“Hope those aren’t any of the supplies we’re layin’ in,” he said.

“They’re not,” Rooke said, having padded up behind them. “Purser, the captain and us have business ashore. Have a detail clear out number two hold to take on new provisions. The water hoy’ll be alongside in a bit.”

Luynes came thudding down the ladder to the main deck.

“
Hern
Radnor, we’ll also be taking on some of the … tools we’ll be needing in our ventures. See they’re properly stored in my cabin. You’re in charge of the ship, so put out a gangway detail. Armed, if you please. I want no one aboard, not officials, not whores, not visitors, not bumboat boys, without me being on board.

“And I certainly don’t want any of the men playing tricks and going ashore against orders. Herti’s a tricky place, and matters are a bit delicate for any Sarosian here. If any man disobeys, I’ll set him ashore on the spot, with nary a copper nor a weapon to protect him.”

“Yes, sir. I understand, sir.”

“We’ll be back in two, perhaps three, turnings of the glass.”

The three went ashore, Rooke hiding a smirk, and Gareth remembered what the mate had said about cutting loose with slave whores.

But the ship’s officers weren’t back in three and then four turnings.

The hulk with its fresh water was brought alongside, and men — slaves, obviously — ran hoses across to the
Steadfast
’s tanks, after Gareth had carefully tasted the water and was a bit surprised to find it fresh and pure. The slaves manned pumps, and in less than an hour had finished their task, and lighters rowed the hulk away.

In spite of Luynes’s warning, no one approached the ship. A few boys peered at the strange sailors, darted back into the city, shouting.

The waterfront was quiet, very quiet. There were no vendors’ cries, no beggars shouting, no orders from the ships nearby. It seemed as if Herti was napping in the heat.

Gareth wondered what would come out at night, decided he wasn’t that curious.

Time passed.

Too much time … five turnings of the glass.

Gareth, feeling he was probably being overcautious, ordered muskets broken out from the stores and half a dozen men assigned to stand by as reinforcements to the two pistol-armed men on gangway watch.

Luynes’s tools arrived, wooden boxes carried by half a dozen men. Gareth ordered them taken to the captain’s cabin, and chanced opening one after the porters had left. They were tools indeed … ugly tools. Pinchers. Irons. Half a dozen whips, some with metal tips. Manacles. Gareth shuddered, went back on deck.

Another turning of the glass passed.

Then one of the men on the gangway called to Gareth. He ran to the ship’s side, saw a man reeling toward them.

He was hunched over, as if he’d been struck in the side. Then Gareth saw the blood dribbling down his leg, leaving blotches of red on the planking as he stumbled toward them.

The man straightened, and Gareth recognized Kelch, saw the great sword-gash across his stomach. Kelch reeled, clawed at the air, and fell on his back.

Gareth was down the gangway and kneeling beside him.

The man’s eyes blinked open.

“Bastards,” he managed. “Frigging Linyati … never trust ‘em …”

“What happened?”

“We did … what we’d come for … got our sailing directions … in my pouch … and went for wine. Godsdamned Linyati … I guess some other faction than the one the skipper’d made his bargain with … or maybe ones who just didn’t like Sarosians … didn’t like what we were … or maybe what we were there for … what we were …”

Kelch broke off, gasping for air.

“Bastards, bastards … know they killed me … kill some of ‘em back for me, Pusser … they cut down the captain … guess they got Rooke too.”

“What do we do?”

Kelch managed an awful grin, opened his mouth, and blood poured out. He coughed, turned his head to the side, spat.

“On’y one thing to do, boy. You’re in their hands, so you’ll have to …”

His body contorted and strained back. More blood rushed out of his mouth, and his bare feet drummed on the stone. He jerked once more and lay still.

“Shit,” Nomios the bosun said somberly. “Now we’re for it.”

Gareth ignored him.

“Four men! Carry the mate aboard and to the sailmaker.”

Among that man’s duties was making a canvas sheath for a coffin.

Gareth stood, trying to figure out what to do next. “Nomios,” he said in a low tone. “Have more muskets loaded, two to a man, but keep them hidden belowdecks.”

“Yes, sir. What else, sir?” Gareth found it strange that the man, twice Gareth’s age and more than that in experience, instantly fell under his sway.