The Fox (9 page)

“But it’ll be a long cruise before you get on land, or any pay to spend on sex.” Haw, haw, and two laughers joined in from behind. Tau felt relieved, then angry at himself. Being up all night was no excuse for not staying alert.

“Uh?” Inda asked, right on cue.

The second mate thought derisively,
This
rockhead was a commander? “It’s your snore-watch, Stupid, which you better get. You’ll be replacing the standing rigging on the sloop tomorrow, and you better not be asleep at the job.” He swaggered away, the chimes in his swinging braids tinkling sweetly.

Inda slouched below. The crew quarters were empty, as often happened directly after a battle. Walic did not like idle crew. The first mate had taken a party to repair and sail the prize, leaving the low forepeak crew quarters empty. Inda whirled into the modified knife drill that he and Dun had developed out of the precise drills used by the women in the knife style they called Odni back home. Not that he had his knives. Those had been taken before he woke on this soul-sucking ship; he had no idea who had them.

His mind cut free, remembering Dun, a coastal Iascan coming aboard as a carpenter’s mate—just happened to know some fighting—boarder-repel drills on the
Pim Ryala
trader—blond like Marlovans but taller than they usually were—who was he really?—last fight, he seemed not only skilled, he fought like the king’s Runners at home—defensive fighting—offensive fighting—women kept Odni a secret—

Hadand, his sister, saying
We have to be able to strike once
—the long drills up behind the pleasure house at Freedom Island—Dun never speaking—refinements—dead, dead.

Kodl dead. Like Dogpiss.

As he had since he was eleven years old, when the pain was too great, he shoved it all away, behind the mental wall between the past and the present. A wall that needed to be stronger and higher, to keep grief and pain inside, where it couldn’t escape.

Finished, he wiped his face on his sleeve and dropped into his bunk, staring up at the bulkheads, fighting sleep— imagining that wall going up, stone by stone, to hold as long as possible against the invading dreams.

Tau leaned tiredly on the rail, considering Inda’s words— those said and those unsaid. He had no duties outside of pleasing the captain’s favorite—and the captain—but he had no place to sleep other than in the captain’s cabin, either in the bed or on the deck as Walic and Coco chose. The thought of going down below where those two lay in summer-sweaty sleep was repellent; they’d demand his attention soon enough if nothing else was going on.

He beat impatiently at his hair, already dry, and tangling in his elbows, the rigging, and whatever else it could catch in as it was played with by the wind. He hated wearing it down. It was a nuisance—no. Concentrate. He’d worn it down before and thought nothing of it.

The hatred was because it was a constant reminder of Coco.

He drifted along the rail, watching everyone for a chance to slip down below unnoticed.

The lookout overhead cried, “Sail ho!”

Out came the glasses, crew at sail and rope, until the lookout shouted down to the deck, “Black leaf fores’l!”

“That’ll be Eflis o’ the
Sable,
” someone observed.

“She’s dipping sail!”

Comment whisked round the ship: that meant news. Tau sighed, knowing his duty, and ran back to the cabin as the captain bellowed, “Reduce sail.”

Pirate etiquette, such as it was, mandated that the captain of the smaller ship or fleet came aboard the larger; the
Sable
had more ships, but her fleet was mostly fast, small schooners. Walic had three capital ships—he signaled the invitation and
Sable
signaled back an acceptance. Either his captain acknowledged Walic’s superior strength or she had news that she was eager to impart.

When the tall, fair-haired young captain of the
Sable
swaggered on deck, Tau was in his place, kneeling beside the pillows in the cabin, fresh coffee in a silver urn. He was shirtless, his brown skin covered only by his golden cloak of hair, because Coco liked him to be so. The stunned, hungry first glance of the visiting captain made it clear that she had originated in lands north of the strait where men as well as women hid their nipples.

Coco gloated. Sex was not only her skill, but her weapon.

“What news?” Walic asked.

Eflis glanced once more at Tau, then turned her attention away. So Coco had managed to find some queen’s lap-dog. And was brandishing him for some typically twisty reason.

“Ramis One-Eye,” she said. “Took out Chaul of the
Widowmaker
’s entire fleet, three to six.”

Everybody considered that: three ships to six. And those six no mere privateer or haphazard pirates: they were Brotherhood of Blood—victorious in vicious fights.

The stories about Ramis were strange. Threatening even to pirates. He was called a pirate yet so far no one had talked of raids on harbors or navies or traders—always on other pirates. No one knew to whom he owed allegiance.

And there were worse rumors.

Walic drank to hide the thrill of fear that tightened his guts, lowered his cup, and grunted. “
You
saw it? Or is that the usual bloat of fourthhand news?”

“I saw the hulks burning on the horizon. A half day more and we woulda been in it,” she replied. “Just off the north end of Chwahirsland.”

Walic smirked. As did everyone who wanted to be invited into the Brotherhood fleet, he obsessively learned the names and stations of all the Brotherhood command groups. “That breaks up the last of the eastern arm, then.”

Eflis smiled, her light blue eyes quite aware. “It opens a hole in the fleet, you mean.”

Walic laughed at the idea that Eflis thought herself competition for him. It was possible she could beat him out, if she managed to pull off a successful raid on a harbor and take the town or defeat a big royal convoy. But she wouldn’t, even if her fleet was larger than his. The only capital ships she showed any interest in were Khanerenth navy—and they traveled in packs too large for her ragtag fleet of small craft to attack successfully.

“They say the captains were thrust into Nightland, right on the
Knife
’s deck, before all eyes. Emis Chaul first.”

Nightland. The child’s euphemism for Norsunder.

Coco snorted. “Did
you
see that?”

“No. But I believe it.” Eflis glanced Tau’s way again as he knelt at the side of Coco’s chair, clad only in cotton trousers, his head bent, his attention on stirring cream and spice into the coffee as Coco ran her fingers through his hair. She hoped Coco would give her a tumble with that beautiful creature, and cast a look Coco’s way to see her smirking as she braided a silver chime into those golden locks. He was there for display, then. A power gesture. Eflis snorted softly.

“Why?” Walic asked, not showing how much the idea bothered him. Oh, he knew Norsunder existed, and if you wanted to live forever, you eventually sought it out and bargained—from a strong position.

The stories about those from Norsunder coming after you were rarer, and those stories that always seemed to include soul-eaters. But they were just stories, from centuries ago. It didn’t happen
now;
it was all talk.

Coco’s thoughts were sailing down a similar wind, he could see. She tinkled a chime on her palm. “Some baby-tender ‘saw’ it, no doubt. We all heard it often enough when we were little: ‘If you’re bad, Norsunder will take you and eat your soul.’ Except it never actually happens.”

Eflis had meant to bargain with firsthand information from witnesses. As she sat there drinking their coffee she decided that she could never stomach Walic lording over her, or even worse, that stupid bawdy-house rat.

So she shrugged. “That’s what they said.”

Walic laughed, relaxing. Nothing firsthand. There were no real soul-eaters. Death he could deal out and meant to avoid for himself. Some mysterious and inhuman Lord of Norsunder obliterating you from existence and savoring your anguish as your mind disintegrated, now that was terrifying.

But of course it wasn’t real.

So he laughed, and prompted Eflis for more gossip— what prizes she’d taken, what harbors she’d visited, and what was said there. Finally he edged up to what he really wanted to know: “Is Boruin now in charge of the entire east, then?”

Eflis shrugged. “I saw her once, at the Fangs. No signal. We hauled off.”

Unless Boruin signaled that she wanted to talk, you stayed out of her way.

“Everyone says she’s now got the entire east, at least while Marshig is out west raiding the land of the flying horses.”

Coco paused in braiding more of the second mate’s chimes into Tau’s hair. She wanted Eflis looking Tau’s way again, to see what she couldn’t have. “Do those Marlovans really have flying horses?”

Eflis only glanced once. “Who cares? They don’t fly over water. It’s not Marshig who wants a kingdom, it’s Boruin Death-Hand.”

Walic’s breath hissed in, long and slow, as he remembered the only time he’d sailed with Boruin, who wasn’t even twenty at the time. A week’s hard fighting—sea, then land, then last the palace. Walic had agreed to ally in hopes of an invitation to join the Brotherhood. But Boruin made it clear all their success meant was she and her allies wouldn’t attack him on the seas. He had to command his own big win.

She didn’t even cut him in on the palace loot, despite his losses; his last night there all the captains in the fleet were bid to the celebration dinner inside the palace. Walic sank into memory: Boruin standing near the huge fire, one boot on the bloody wreck of the toff she’d toyed with—he was still dying—her shadow dark against the opposite wall, reaching up to the ceiling, as she drank and toasted her future. Her pirates—as crazy as she was—shouting after every promise,
Marshig will die!
(roar)
After I get the Brotherhood treasure map out of him!
(roar)
Then we take us a kingdom!
(roar)
It’s a palace for every hand!
(roar)
Jewels to bathe in!
(roar)
Bed warmed every night!
(roar)
And then knife ’em in the morning!
(biggest roar)

Eflis broke into the memory with a wry glance. “As well she’s gonna sail west to take on Marshig when she’s strong enough, eh?”

Walic chuckled. “She’s crazy, that one.”

They all laughed and Eflis returned to her ship. Coco and Walic returned to their sleep, leaving Tau to take the dishes to the galley.

That done, he climbed the half dozen steps to the weather deck. The air was hot and breathless, with that killing glare that too often presaged bad weather. The way the pirates peered toward the northwest confirmed his instinct that a storm was forming beyond the curve of the world.

The second mate, on duty during the day as the first mate was aboard the prizes, whirled around at the faint, sweet ring of his chimes in Tau’s hair. His temper was evil: it was hot out and he was dead tired. When he saw those little braids framing the bawdy-boy’s face, his fingers reached for the big knife he always wore in his sash.

Then he dropped his hand. Coco had taken the chimes, so that was that; though he despised the sight of her latest toy, he remembered what happened to her toys when she got tired of them. He laughed, then called for a change of sail: a fractious wind teased at hair and sweaty skin.

Soon they bucked forward, the bow smacking down through the whitecaps beginning to riffle over the surface. All the sails the ship could carry belled out, everything braced up within a snap of danger.

Tau descended to the waist, wishing he could find somewhere to sleep. He leaned a hand against a bulkhead, eyes closed, nearly sliding into sleep as he stood there.

A step within fighting range woke him. A heartbeat later, steely fingers gripped his hair and flung him around.

Though he was meant to sprawl off balance he sidestepped, one hand in a flat-hand block to redirect another blow into the wood and one foot hooking neatly behind his assailant’s ankle.

The foot he hooked twisted expertly away, then a forearm slammed Tau back against the bulkhead, catching him below the collarbone.

He shook back his drifting hair. When he saw Fox’s considering gaze, Tau dropped his hands and waited.

“Inda taught you to fight with the Odni?” Fox drawled the word “you” with extreme derision.

Behind him stood the other Marlovan, the one the hands called Rat. He was watching down the companionway.

“Who says I fight?” Tau retorted, folding his arms.

Fox stared into Tau’s face. It really was an extraordinarily beautiful face, even when sweaty and marked with exhaustion. Extraordinary because wit refined the handsome features. Gave them character.

Fox had not planned past taking the bawdy-boy by surprise, to see if he begged, pleaded, threatened, or offered trade. Not that he wanted it. He wanted proof his loyalties were for sale, along with his attentions.

Tau waited.

"Huh.” Fox lifted his arm and laughed as he and Rat walked off.

Chapter Five

JEJE had not expected the sight of Freeport Harbor to hurt.

Being in charge for the first time had kept her busy looking out for pirates during the long trip southeast, watching the charts on her first attempt at navigating entirely on her own, scanning for bad weather, and dealing with the ongoing chores of ship-handling.

They traded watches off and on, two and two, Nugget having to do a mate’s share of the work instead of a new deck rat’s. She seemed to thrive on the responsibility. She even slept on the masthead, tying herself on, most nights being balmy enough for it not to seem a hardship for an adventure-craving twelve-year-old. Both Jeje and Nugget stayed awake far past their watches, Jeje too full of questions, worries, and ugly images to want sleep, until she was so exhausted she couldn’t fight it.