Corsair (17 page)

“Yes,” Dihr said. “Their city they name Cimmar, which they built to hold the mouth of the river. The river, wide enough for a hundred ships like this to sail abreast, is the Mozaffar. But it does not stop just inland, as this map shows, but winds south and then east, through my homeland.”

Little by little Gareth was learning the measure of their foe.

• • •

They captured four more merchantmen, each with a valuable cargo — silks, brass objects of art, and two carrying spices fully as rich as Luynes had promised.

Gareth knew he had to do something with his fleet before the Linyati came after him. For the moment, he ordered his prizes sailed back with skeleton crews to the cover of that nameless island they’d first found, while he stayed a-raiding with the
Steadfast, Goodhope,
and
Revenge.

• • •

The next ship they sighted was huge, a four-masted triple-decker. There were two of the small, rakish three-masters sailing as escort ahead of the triple-decker.

Froln grinned tightly.

“Wi’ guard’yans that’ll mean there’s sure some’at worth takin’ aboard the big ‘un, Captain.”

Gareth found himself smiling back, and knew his expression was the same as his mate’s, a wolfish glee. He had an instant to wonder how much he was changing, pushed the matter away as nonsense, ordered the men to fighting stations, and ran up the
Steadfast’s
colors.

The skull flag cracked in the wind, and the pirate formation closed on the biggest ship.

The two warships tacked back, but the three pirate ships refused to close, and raked them with their main guns, aiming for their masts, until the Linyati lay dismasted and helplessly dead in the water.

Then they went after the three-decker. Gareth counted half a dozen guns per side with his glass, and more, lighter cannon in the stern and bow. The ship was a slow sailor, the
Steadfast
and
Goodhope
able to close easily, the slower
Revenge
having about the same speed.

“We go broadside to broadside wi’ th’ bugger,” Froln said, “we’re liable to come up second or worse. P’raps we close on th’ port side, send the
Revenge
t’ th’ other, and mebbe confuse ‘em or scare ‘em a trifle?”

“Better,” Gareth said, and gave orders to Froln, signal flags fluttered.

“If this works,” he said as the
Steadfast
closed on the huge Linyati ship, trying to ignore the swirlings in his stomach as he saw the bore of the cannon in the ship’s stern cabin getting larger and larger, “we’ll be rearranging our guns.”

Smoke billowed from the Linyati ship’s stern, but the balls fell well short.

“Appears she’s carryin’ bombards or such in the stern,” Froln said.

“We’re in range,” Knoll N’b’ry shouted.

“Ready about,” Gareth ordered.

“Sir,” the quartermaster called; then, to the helmsman, “Helm a’lee!”

“Helm’s a’lee,” the helmsman shouted, and the wheel was put down.

“Let go the headsheets … let go the spanker,” Galf shouted, and sailors ran to obey.

“Stand by the guns to port,” Gareth ordered.

“Ready … ready,” came the reply.

“Mains’l haul!” And the
Steadfast
turned broadside to the Linyati ship.

“Fire when you bear!” Gareth shouted.

A moment later one, then the second demicannon on the
Steadfast
boomed.

“Take her about and do it again,” Gareth ordered.

A grim roundelay started, with the three pirate ships sailing up on the Linyati’s stern in turn, tacking, firing a broadside, and recovering.

The little
Goodhope
came too close, and one of the Linyati short-range bombards blew away her bowsprit. She fell back, her small crew swarming up to make repairs.

Then there was a smashing explosion from the Linyati ship’s stern, and part of the hull tore away and one of the bombards toppled slowly into the ship’s wake.

Gareth ordered the
Steadfast
to close and sweep the quarterdeck with grapeshot, then the
Revenge
to board.

The
Steadfast
came alongside to starboard, through the boiling smoke and red cannon fire, and her men went across as the
Revenge
’s crew leapt over the Linyati’s port railing.

The fighting was savage, with no quarter given, but in a quarter glass all the Linyati on deck lay sprawled in their blood.

Gareth winced, rubbed his arm. A pistol ball had ricocheted off a mast and grazed him. Thom Tehidy had a slash down his side, which he was bandaging with a shirt torn from a Linyati corpse. Four men clenched teeth to keep from screaming, two others thrashed in agony, three lay motionless in death.

“Why’d the bastards fight so hard?” he wondered. “I suspect we’re rich.”

There was a bang as a maindeck hatch came open, and a ghastly stench rolled up, followed by piteous wails and screams.

“Mercy of Megaris,” somebody shouted. “We took a slave ship.”

And so it was.

There were four slave decks below, each just high enough for a man to sit up on, divided into narrow berths. There were passages down each row, where the Slavers could pass out water and bread when they bothered.

The slaves’ excrement slid down between cracks in the bunks, into the bilges.

There were four hundred seventy-three men, women, children still living, manacled to their bunks. There were another one hundred thirteen bodies in chains.

Labala cast every spell he could think of for perfume, for fresh winds, but it did little good. The sailors cursed the dead Linyati as they carried bodies into the open, where Dihr said a prayer that should help them find a better life, then slid the bodies into the water, not looking at the swirling wakes of the feeding sharks.

Dihr told Gareth that these slaves were “primitive ones, Captain. Not educated, not seamen like us. They’ve been fresh-taken from their lands and put in this hells-ship for transport to the slave markets of Linyati.”

These bewildered, half-starved people were fed as best the pirates knew how, first with delicacies, which made more die, then with simple gruels and fruit.

Labala found himself being their chirurgeon, although he claimed little skills. No one else did, either, but most everyone found himself tending to the sick. Slowly the people began to recover, although children still died, and it tore at Gareth every time he put a small corpse overside.

They sailed back to the island where the rest of their prey lay anchored, and Gareth took stock.

Tehidy and Froln came, asking what he planned next.

“We’ve got to get rid of these Kashians,” he said. “And that ship we took, with its smashed stern, needs better carpenters than we have. We should be deciding which of the ships we’ve taken are to be disposed of, and in what way. Also, all of our hulls are foul and need cleaning, and our upperworks need rerigging.

“I think we should investigate the charms of Freebooter’s Island.”

Freebooter’s Island was, in fact, a ring of islets, with jutting skerries offshore and a deep lagoon in the center.

Gareth signaled his seven ships to heave to, while he sailed around the island to see what was what.

There were gaps in the islets, but he couldn’t tell if the passages were navigable. Two tiny offshore islands had low-walled forts. But the forts were unmanned, the cannon stoppered, and he saw no sign of life.

Inside the lagoon were some sixteen ships of various types. On several of the islands, white stonework gleamed.

A lookout shouted down, saying the passage just off the beam was guarded by other forts. Gareth glassed them, saw more cannon, these manned and with open muzzles.

He guessed that passage would be the main channel, but didn’t know what pirate’s protocol, if any, was toward uninvited strangers.

Again the lookout called, reporting a small cutter sailing toward the passage. Standing in its bows was a long-bearded man wearing a star-studded turban and a thigh-length wrap. He seemed to have no problem keeping his balance as the small boat tossed in the low waves coming through the passage. Two nearly naked, brown-skinned men crewed the boat.

“Helmsman,” Gareth called, noting the
Steadfast
had a fair wind abaft.

“Aye.”

“Make for that passage.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Thom, take in all sail but the mains’l, and shorten that. We’ll crawl in. Nomios, all hands on deck, and the guns manned but not run out.

“And hoist our colors. We’ll find out soon enough whether we’re among friends.”

The
Steadfast
ghosted toward the cutter, which held its course toward them.

“Ahoy the
Steadfast
,” the man in the cutter called.

Gareth started.

“You know us?”

“Aye,” the man shouted. “My casting spotted you a day out. Good thing, too. With all your ships, folks around here could get nervous, thinking the damned Linyati had mounted an expedition against us. Or that we’re a little slow in hearing of the politics up north and somebody’s decided to try to destroy us again.”

The cutter dropped sail, and the man jumped easily for the ladder, swarmed up it through the gangway where Gareth, Labala, and the mates waited. He was tall, and at one time would have had the muscular build of a warrior. Now, though, his face was a cheery red under its beard, explaining the great gut he seemed to carry with pride.

“I hight, like they used to say, Dafflemere, once Lord Dafflemere, now one of the Brethren of the Sea, with a bit of the Gift that at least one among you shares.”

“Labala,” the large man said. “I’m that man. I think.”

Dafflemere made a general bow.

“We greet you, welcome you to Freebooter’s Island, wish you all the luck and the best while you’re here. I’d guess you’re the men who’ve been playing hells with the Linyati off Noorat?”

“How’d you know that?” Froln asked suspiciously.

“I could be magical, and say I’ve got my ways, but civilized magic tends to sometimes get fuzzy around the Linyati.

“One of the Brethren was planning on raiding down that way, and was hailed by a neutral he knew from other times. That ship, fresh from trading with the Slavers at Noorat, told him the seas were buzzing like a teased-up wasp’s nest, suggested he maybe wanted to seek his benefice elsewhere.

“Don’t get angry … I know a lot of things, tell nobody. But I don’t know your name, sir.”

“I’m Gareth Radnor,” Gareth said. “Elected captain of this ship and master of the others beyond.”

“Pleased. I’ll ask your business here, if I’m not intruding. You’re welcome whether you came just to drink or sell whatever goods you’ve acquired.”

“Trading our spoils is the first item,” Gareth said. “Refitting. Looking for new hands. We’ve got a ship that needs its stern rebuilt before it can take some people home to Kashi.”

“You seized slaves?”

“We did.”

“You needn’t trouble yourselves with them beyond this island,” Dafflemere said carefully. “The Brethren practice complete freedom for all, and there’s those who’d be happy to take them off your hands for hard coinage.”

“Freedom for all,” Gareth said, his voice a bit hard, “except for slaves, you mean.”

Dafflemere gave Gareth a chill look. “Some, perhaps most of us, feel slavery is not good. Others …” He shrugged. “As I said, all are free to do as they wish.”

“Let me ask something,” Labala said, changing the subject. “What would’ve happened if, say, we were Linyati, and had cloaked your magic? What would have happened then?”

“I’m happy to satisfy your curiosity, my friend. First, seizing me is, shall we say, a bit harder than appears, and I’ll give you no details, since today’s friends may be tomorrow’s foes. Second, there are cannon on either side of the passage, with well-trained gun crews.”

“We saw them.”

“Third … well, come here.”

Dafflemere went to the railing, swirled in the air with his hand. Gareth found his gesturing hard to watch.

Then a greater swirling in the water below came, and something just below the surface looked at them, a great eye, as big as a man’s torso. Two tentacles lifted, curled, almost as high as the
Steadfast
’s mast, splashed down, and a beak came out of the water and clattered.

“There are other of his ilk below,” Dafflemere said. “I have learned to call to them, and they think of me as … perhaps … a friend. Or at any rate someone who ensures they feed well from time to time.

“That is the only caution I must give you. Killing is forbidden on Freebooter’s Island, other than in fair duel. And, by the way, the fairness of that duel is open to question by the Brethren. Those who offend are tried by a court of the Brethren, and if guilty become a dainty nibble for my friends here.

“Our other crimes are rape, assault on an unequally armed foe, and theft. The penalties for all are the same as murder.

“Now, if you’ll signal to your ships to follow your lead, you can find an anchorage at one of the cables that stretch between the buoys you see. The bottom of this lagoon is far too deep for any anchor chain to reach.

“Again, I bid you welcome, fellow corsairs.”

Gareth looked at Thom Tehidy and Knoll N’b’ry, and felt a thrill at the words that went all the way back to their childhood.

Corsairs they were in truth, now.

• • •

“Here is what I propose,” Gareth said to his men, assembled in the waist of the ex-slave ship. “We shall keep the
Steadfast,
of course, and the
Revenge
and the
Goodhope,
out here for another foray. We’ll also keep ownership of two, maybe more, of the other ships, to take what cargo we don’t dispose of here to a neutral port to await our homecoming, as we agreed.

“The men, women, and children from Kashi will be taken back by volunteers and set ashore as close as possible to their homeland.”

“Damned if I like that,” one of the older men said. “They’re brown gold … and I heard that magic-man say we could sell ‘em here.”

“I’ve thought of that,” Gareth said, “and of our agreement, in the Articles that
all of you signed,
“ he said with emphasis. “But I wish no grumbling. I’ll let go one of my shares, to be split among those who feel wronged, to compensate for the slaves. That is my only offer.