Corsair (25 page)

The gangway was lowered, and Gareth descended.

Two men, both with swords ready, moved forward, and others in the crowd, wearing red and black livery, tossed back concealing cloaks and lifted muskets, steadily aimed at the sailors.

Gareth recognized one of the two, slender, a bit taller, pinched lips over a beard that had filled out a bit since he’d seen him last.

Anthon Quindolphin!

“Gareth Radnor and crew,” he said in his grating voice. “In the name of King Alfieri and in the name of the King’s Justice, I order your arrest on the charge of high treason, and also order the holding of your men as witnesses to your incredible crimes as well as possible accomplices, in which event they are also to face the King’s Justice. I have this warrant, ordering you, Gareth Radnor, to be taken immediately into custody, to await the stern pleasure of our king, and you others to be taken to a common prison.

“Do not resist us, any of you, or we’ll use deadly force without hesitation.”

There was utter silence but the plash of the river waves against the
Steadfast
’s hull. Then snarling laughter came, and a man rode out of an alleyway.

He was big, solid, clean shaven, in late middle age. Gareth had never seen him before. But his tight lips and glaring eyes made it easy for Gareth to realize he had finally been taken by his worst enemy: Lord Quindolphin.

“Seize them,” he ordered, and the men moved forward.

The sailors looked for succor, but there was none. Suddenly there was a splash from the
Steadfast
’s stern. Gareth turned, saw a large brown arm sweep up, then another, and watched Labala swim strongly away.

“One of them jumped overboard,” Anthon reported the obvious. “Shall we go after him?”

“Don’t worry about him,” Quindolphin said. “We have their leader, the others do not matter.”

• • •

“There’s enough who’ve been in the Great Dungeon once who come away alive like you did, Lord Radnor,” the warder Aharah said. “And none at all a second time, it fears me to tell you.”

“There’s no lord to me,” Gareth said, looking about his cell. If it weren’t for the bars on the balcony, it could be taken for an expensive set of apartments. “Why’d you grant me the title?”

“We’ve — the whole damned city has — heard of what you done to the Slavers.”

“Including Lord Quindolphin, evidently.”

“Word spreads,” Aharah said. “We was expecting you to be given the King’s Freedom of the City, an’ a title, but … nobody knows how, but you angered the king somehow.

“Not that hard to do, these days. He’s gettin’ old and fearful, some say. But we — the rest of the warders and me — don’t consider this what we’d call a proud moment.”

“I thank you,” Gareth said.

“There ought to be more like you, out cutting those damned Linyati’s throat strings for them, and taking their gold. Is’t true you’ve got great treasure to show for your raiding?”

Gareth smiled, didn’t answer.

“What did I do to deserve a cell like this?” he said, looking at the alcove with a double-sized bed with unbelievably clean linen, a lounging divan, a table with matching chairs that would seat a dozen, a fireplace to keep off the chill that was coming with the late-afternoon fog rolling off the river, a writing desk and books.

“You don’t answer my questions,” Aharah said, “I don’t have to answer yours.

“We’ll let it be a s’prise.”

• • •

Gareth had a visitor within the turning of the glass: Lord Quindolphin, and six heavily armed retainers.

The door slammed open, and two warders ushered the nobleman and his retinue in. He looked about the cell, pursed his lips even more, but said nothing about the furnishings.

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t bow,” Gareth said. “But I only acknowledge gentlemen.”

One of Quindolphin’s escorts growled.

“Pay no mind,” Quindolphin said. “The villain can speak as he likes, considering he’ll have but few days to use his tongue.

“You see, Radnor, there are none who can stand before me for long. Eventually I have my revenge on those who’ve wronged me.”

“Even if it’s got to be done in secret, by night,” Gareth said. “Exactly what I’d expect from a slaver.”

Quindolphin whitened.

“What is that canard you spoke?”

“No lie,” Gareth said, noting the expressions from the two warders, and even one of Quindolphin’s men. “We encountered your ship, the
Naijak,
in our voyages, and Captain Ozerov explained what purpose he had in the Southern Seas.”

“You lie!”

“You might be interested,” Gareth said, “that I killed Ozerov myself. Also that your fine ship seems to have sunk in a storm in those waters, so your investment has come a bit of a cropper, hasn’t it?”

“I did not come here to be slanged by a traitor!”

“No,” Gareth agreed. “But it’s happening, isn’t it?”

Two of the men started forward. Gareth moved very quickly, kicking a chair into their path, grabbing an end table and snapping off two of its legs. One in each hand, short staves, he smiled tightly.

“Come then,” he said. “Let us play.”

One man grabbed for a pistol in his belt, and Gareth hurled the length of wood, jagged end first, between the man’s eyes. He screeched, stumbled back.

“Here now,” one of the warders said, drawing his dagger. “Enough of that. This man awaits the King’s Justice, and he’ll see no harm before then!”

Quindolphin’s flush died. He glared at Gareth, turned, and stalked out without another word. His men dragged their bleeding fellow after him.

“I’m sorry, Warder, about breaking your furniture,” Gareth said. “When I get some funds I’ll pay for its replacement.”

He was breathing hard, but joy surged through him. He wished he’d thrown that stave into the lord’s face, but found consolation in that at the least he’d finally been able to take direct action against his enemy.

“Don’t worry about the table,” the warder said. “But next time we come, there’ll be more than just the two of us. You’re a right dangerous man, Lord Radnor.”

• • •

Aharah’s “surprise” was explained at dusk.

Two men in ceremonial half-armor, flanked by a grinning Aharah, brought covered trays into the room, then pushed a wheeled cart in after it, followed by a small wicker case.

“What does all this mean?”

No one answered Gareth, and the three went out. Gareth had an instant to puzzle, and the door came open again and Cosyra burst in.

She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Still with short hair, she wore a green silk tie around her neck and breasts. Her midriff was bare, and she wore baggy, wide-bottomed pants with ankle boots. The tiny golden eagle he’d sent from Nalta Mouth was on a chain at her throat.

“We have until dawn,” she said.

Gareth did not remember going across the few feet from where he’d gaped to take her in his arms, nor the next few minutes as they kissed.

He started to say something, kissed her again. He heard the cell door close, and the locks grate, but paid no heed.

Gareth picked her up in his arms, carried her to the bed, and lay down, half across her. Then the wave took them both, lifted them, and finally let them down, sweating, weak, naked, legs entwined.

Neither could manage coherency for a long time. Then Cosyra whispered, “So that’s what it’s like.”

“With you, that’s what it’s like,” Gareth managed.

“You wouldn’t know, never having been with anyone else before, like me.”

“Of course. You’re right.”

“Do you know how much trouble I went to to get the freshest oysters, and two dozens of them? Now they’re going to go to waste.”

She squealed suddenly.

“Oh. You aren’t going to need them, are you?”

• • •

“Wasn’t there something about love?” Cosyra said sometime later.

“There was.”

“You still just think?”

“I’m sure. I love you.”

“Then let me try something I read about, dreaming about you when you were far away, and see if I know how to do it properly.”

• • •

“I assume it was your gold that paid for all this,” Gareth said.

“Of course,” Cosyra said. “A noblewoman of my standing wouldn’t consider losing her virginity in anything other than the most perfect surroundings.”

“Even if it is still a dungeon.”

“That will make it a story I can tell my grandchildren about, won’t it?” she said. “Although I may have to leave out some of the … more interesting parts.”

• • •

Quite naked, Gareth considered the dishes Cosyra had brought in. The covered vessels had spells on them, so the food was as if it’d come fresh from the oven.

Besides the small, utterly succulent oysters, on the half-shell with horseradish and lemon, there was a beef filet in pastry, buttered new potatoes, and lemon tarts. But the dish Gareth prized most, beyond the oysters, was a simple dish of sliced fresh tomatoes with chopped chives, oil, and cracked black pepper.

“There are things,” he explained between mouthfuls, “the Southern Waters never give you.”

Cosyra, as naked as he was, was sprawled on the shambled bed.

“There had best be
many
things the Southern Waters never gave you.”

“Would I have picked out that eagle I sent you if there weren’t?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “You rogues always know the way to a girl’s heart.”

“Speaking of which, how long will mine keep beating?”

Cosyra turned serious.

“The king is between the rocky Mount he lives on and a stone wall. He was livid when reports came — from Lord Quindolphin, incidentally — of your raiding against the Linyati.

“Then their ambassador complained in court about you, and other equally murderous renegades, and cleverly shamed the king into promising he’d make a response.”

“Which will be?”

“I do not know,” Cosyra said. “He’s been very secretive about you, and none of my friends have been able to draw him out. If I didn’t know Alfieri, I’d think his conscience was bothering him.” She laughed grimly. “But kings give that up when they put on the crown, it seems.”

“So what will happen with me?”

“At the moment, nothing. There’s been no mention of a trial, or summary justice, or anything.”

“What about my men?” Gareth asked.

“I’ve done what I can,” Cosyra said. “They’ve been moved out of the main prison and are being held in a separate yard that’s normally used for debtors, so there’ll be no nonsense with whips or things like that.”

Gareth looked at her with new respect.

“Milady, I knew you were noble, but I didn’t think you were that noble. Or had that much muscle.”

“That’s a nice, gentlemanly compliment,” Cosyra said, clearly changing the subject. “To tell a lady, who’s just given her all and then some, you like her muscles. Would you like me to climb a rope or tuck a sail or whatever it is you pirates do to gain further respect?”

“So all this means we can do more than wait on the king’s pleasure?” Gareth asked.

“I see no other options,” Cosyra said, a little bitterly. “Now you know what the reality is of being at court. Everything is at the pleasure of his Majesty, sometimes including breathing, I think.

“I’ll let you know as soon as I know anything, and the warders are well bribed in the event of their learning aught.”

Gareth thought.

“Since Quindolphin came here to gloat, with some of his bullyboys, I don’t think this prison is exactly safe, ignoring your charming presence as yet another indicator. I’ve known sieves to be less leaky.

“I would give a deal for some kind of weapon.”

“If you’ll lift up the tray the beef is in …” Cosyra murmured.

There were two knives under the tray, with leather sheaths as plain as their hafts and handles.

“The armorer I bought them from said the short one can be tied to your inner thigh to be hidden, the longer one down the center of your back, on that chain that appears ornamental.”

Gareth hefted them.

“Good.” He grinned at himself. “Perhaps I’ve spent too much time in the company of rogues to feel naked without a weapon. But …”

“And who is to say Saros is any less deadly than anything you’ve seen?” Cosyra said. “Now, if you’ve finished making an utter pig of yourself, freshen your mouth from that small bottle, take away my plate, and pour me another glass of the wine you’ve been ignoring for that terrible water. I see even pirating hasn’t improved your tastes.”

“And then what?”

“And then come here again, so I can see if your boasts hold true.

“Dawn comes early enough for us.”

• • •

A week and a day passed. Cosyra was able to visit Gareth in his cell nearly every day, her men posted outside to guarantee privacy, but couldn’t chance any more full nights.

She did report that poor Lord Quindolphin wasn’t at court these days, having been struck with a plague of boils.

Gareth laughed, thinking of Labala’s escape, and explained to Cosyra, who found it equally funny.

“It’s a pity,” she said, “your wizard doesn’t know how to bring on leprosy, however. Fast-acting leprosy.”

• • •

His uncle Pol came visiting, and was, surprisingly, quite cheerful. Gareth noted that he now wore a golden key around his neck, asked and found Pol had, indeed, been made a Merchant Prince in Gareth’s absence.

“A just reward for my life of honesty, purity, and never chancing the law,” he said. “Unlike some
others
I can name.” But he didn’t sound terribly critical.

“Both you and Cosyra seem quite unconcerned by my presence in this dungeon,” Gareth said, just a bit angrily.

“Certainly,” Pol said. “It isn’t
our
necks the headsman is measuring while sharpening his ax.”

“Uncle, have you taken to having wine at lunch?”

“Normally, no,” Pol said. “But I received a piece of excellent news, at least I deem it to be such, to justify a glass or two this day.”

Gareth waited, but Pol didn’t continue, so he assumed it must have been mercantile.

“Now,” Pol went on, “I’ve visited your men in their own durance and found one, your Tehidy, to be quite reliable.