The Wrath of a Shipless Pirate (The Godlanders War) (16 page)

He threw a glance back at Ezio, but the self-appointed
captain
of this little ship was still sound asleep. Corin took a moment to consider the corpse, paying special attention to his face; then he closed his eyes and repeated the same process he had used outside the smuggler’s tavern. He borrowed Gasparo’s
appearance
for his own, and when he opened his eyes, he felt the same strange gray mist hanging in his vision once again.

Then he moved fast. He heaved the true Gasparo overboard and scrubbed the tiller and deck for any sign of blood. It was an easy task by starlight, quickly done, and through it all, the other sailor never stirred. The whole ordeal took no more than half an hour, and Corin realized with some surprise that he’d secured himself a sailing job. Two hours still remained of second watch, and Corin fell into his old routines, adjusting trim and tack and watching hard for little signs of danger. The Spinola coast was brutal, but no one on the Medgerrad could navigate it quite like Corin Hugh.

He corrected Gasparo’s course to a safer angle from the shore then went below to clean up any signs of his time within the hold. He secured the hidden plank again, shoved the water barrel back in place, and went back to the bow to man the tiller.

It had been a hard three days hiding in the lower hold, and now he stretched his arms and legs and bent his back to
honest
work. Wind in his hair, salt breeze in his lungs, he rode the waves, alive and free, as the distant sun began to rise.

Then from behind came a sour curse, and Ezio cried out in fury, “You stinking blackguard! What have you done?”

C
orin spun around, panic scraping at the back of his
breastbone
, but the thin gray haze still hung over his vision. The glamour held. Still, he watched Ezio stalk across the deck toward him with accusation and murder in his eyes. Corin shifted,
trying
to find the best stance to meet his opponent. Behind his back, Corin gripped the threaded hilt of his dagger and hoped he wouldn’t have to use it.

Before he had the chance to decide, the other man burst
forward
. Ezio didn’t strike, though. He shouldered Corin roughly aside and dove upon the tiller.

“You senseless dog. You stupid oaf. I knew you for a fool, but I never thought—” He cut himself off, fighting the sluggish tiller as he tried to force the ship to shallow waters. “Even you
…
”

Corin frowned, bouncing on his toes. For all his bluster, the other man seemed genuinely concerned with the situation, and that lit a fire in Corin’s belly. He’d seen too much of shipwrecks, the worst of them in these very waters. He pressed forward and asked, “What? What do you need from me?”

“Get overboard and push! That’s all I’d trust you with. Or, here, lean hard on this!” He ceded his place at the wheel, and Corin took it, fighting current to drive the ship in closer to the shore.

Corin swallowed hard. “Are you sure? I saw some rocks—”

“Of course there’s rocks! That’s why we brought the river boat. But you drove us out to sea! This ship ain’t meant for that. One good wave could kill us!”

He watched a moment until he was confident that Corin would hold to the new course. Then he sprang away to trim the sails. “I swear to Ephitel,” he called back while he worked, “if this stunt gets us killed, I’ll curse your mother’s house.”

Corin nearly missed his chance, but he’d heard enough of their bickering to find the right response. “Hah. You try it. She’d serve you up for stew.”

“Still your tongue and steer the ship,” Ezio called back. Then from his place in the rigging, “Rocks! Rocks, you fool! Hard a-post!”

Corin saw them, but the ship felt dumb and sluggish compared to the ones he knew. He fought the tiller as hard as he could, but still had to shout, “Brace yourself!” Two heartbeats later, the lower hull ground up against a knot of submerged boulders. A seagoing vessel with a deeper keel might have broken through the formation, but it’d just as likely have smashed to pieces. This one scudded over the top.

It was no easy ride. Timber groaned and screamed, and the whole ship set to bucking like a wounded horse. The whole ship speared upward, driven by the wind and waves, and then dropped away beneath Corin’s feet. While he was still falling to meet it, the deck kicked up again and smashed the wind from his lungs. He skidded across the main deck, ricocheted off the
railing
, and barely caught a grip on a trailing line before he skipped up and over the edge. The line snapped taut above him, stripping flesh from his palm and nearly jerking his arm from its socket, but Corin didn’t dare let go.

He smashed hard against the outer hull, and then the ship rocked down again and plunged Corin up to his shoulders in churning seawater. His feet struck stone, and Corin kicked up hard. He heaved against the rope at the same time, and the two moves helped him spring high enough to catch the railing with his free hand. He went up and over onto the deck again, then sat a moment, fighting breathless lungs and a hammering pulse.

Then he heard a cry from the riggings. Corin looked up just in time to see Ezio lose his grip. A wave crushed over the edge, driving hard past Corin, and slammed into Ezio just as he hit the deck. The man went over.

The only man who knew where to find Dave Taker.

“Oh, gods’ blood!” Corin shouted. He sprang up and pounded across the deck, drawing his dagger as he went. He skidded up against the port railing, hauled out several loops of rope from the tacking there, and tied the end fast around his dagger’s hilt. He spun in place, and heaved with all his might, flinging the rope toward the last spot he’d seen Ezio go under.

The dagger’s weight dragged the line out straight. Corin watched for several heartbeats as the line stretched out behind the ship, and then the dagger and the rope’s own weight be
gan to
drag it downward. Corin cursed again and raised one boot t
o the raili
ng, ready to dive for the sunken sailor. But then the rope jerked. It twitched once, which might have been a
nyt
hing, but then a weight heaved hard against it.

Corin dropped back to the deck and caught the rope in both his hands. He pulled it in, arm over arm. While he was busy fighting that, the ship finally cleared the beds of rocks. It kicked once more, just as Corin dragged a spluttering Ezio to safety, and then settled back into a low, smooth wallow among the shallow breakers.

Ezio reached up and clasped both hands behind Corin’s neck. His arms were shaking. His face was pale, and there was a fever in his eyes. “I never would’ve guessed it, Gasparo. That was fast thinking. You saved my life. Now get back on the blasted
tiller
, or you’ll have to do it again!”

Corin lowered the other man gently to the deck and then did as directed. It was not so urgent a matter as Ezio had guessed. Corin bent the ship’s course back west, still sticking to the
shallower
waters. He spent a moment watching the rise and fall of distant breakers, then shifted ever so slightly to port. But now that he understood the sailors’ plan, he saw its advantages. He’d never have chosen a river ship for the open sea, but the
shallow
draft allowed it to cruise inside the most dangerous parts of th
e reef
.

“We’re through,” Corin called back, once he felt confident of their bearing. “Safe enough until you can take the tiller again.”

“How badly is she damaged?”

Corin shook his head. “I can only guess. Fortune’s grace, I didn’t see any flotsam trailing in our wake, but that’s no proof.”

“Check her out,” Ezio said. “Hold. Bilges. Lean over the sides if you have to, but watch your step.”

Corin showed him a smile. “Aye, aye.”

Ezio narrowed his eyes a moment, and then he hung his head. “Thank you, Gasparo. Gods’ favor. I owe you my life.”

That earned a more genuine smile, and Corin ducked his head. “Clear skies, Captain. I’ll get you a report.”

Corin did a visual inspection of the outer hull first. The sides showed no sign of damage, but the worst of the ride had been right along the keel. He leaped up to the quarterdeck and stood a moment watching their wake, but still he saw no signs of flotsam torn from the hull. That was a promising sign.

He threw back the hatch and groaned at the sound of sloshing water, but he quickly discovered the source—not damage to the hull, but broken water barrels. Corin eased himself down into it, then felt blindly through the wreckage across the hold’s floor until he found the panel that opened on the secret cabin. When he finally found it, it wouldn’t budge. The weight of water above it held the panel fast. Corin tried his dagger against it, stabbing down at the thin wood plank. It threw a violent splash of water and the dagger’s point landed with a hollow
thunk
. Nothing else came of it. Corin tried again, and again he got a faceful of bilge water as his only reward. Then, on the third try, he felt the wood splinter beneath the blow.

The water poured through the narrow hole. Corin dragged his dagger back and drove it down again, adding to the flow. That suggested at the least that the lower hold wasn’t flooded yet. Corin tried to slide the panel again, but it needed more time. He punched another hole, hoping to drain the water faster, then he went topside for a bucket to do some bailing.

Ezio was on his feet by then, if still a little pale. He was
leaning
on the tiller now, his eyes fixed hard on the distant
shoreline
. Watching for the rendezvous spot. Corin prayed Fortune it was close; then he went back below.

It took him half an hour to get through to the secret cabin, and then he saw it by daylight for the first time. It looked even smaller than he’d guessed. The bunk was now soaking in the broth that Corin had emptied through the panel, but the hulls looked secure. Corin knelt there in the upper hold and watched the water level, but it never seemed to rise at all.

He was just about to go and deliver the report when Ezio spoke right by his ear. “Ephitel’s name, man, what have you found here?”

Corin looked sidewise at the other man, and then he remembered his disguise. “I can’t guess. Some kind of lower hold? Riding over the rocks busted open this trap door.”

Ezio nodded in admiration. “Good on you for spotting that. And I’d say you’re right. This is a smuggler’s ship, ain’t it? I suspect that’s where they keep the precious cargo. How bad’s the leak?”

“Can’t see one at all,” Corin said. “That’s the water from our drinking barrels.”

Ezio clapped Corin on the back. “Seems like we survived your miserable piloting, then. Gods favor indeed!”

Corin turned to him. “We’re there?”

“Close. I’m starting to recognize the shoreline. Give it another hour. If the ship’ll hold together that long, we’re safe.”

“I’d wager on her,” Corin said.

Ezio bent over to peer down into the lower hold. After a moment, he whistled softly. “That’s a fancy setup. You sure the water ain’t rising?”

Corin checked again, but it was lapping right at the lower edge of the bunk’s frame. It hadn’t moved a finger’s width in the time they’d been talking.

“Positive.”

“Good. Then let’s get topside and try to bring this thing in to shore.”

They chased along the shore for perhaps another half hour, Corin squinting just as hard at the rugged coastline as his
companion
did, but it was Ezio who spotted the narrow passage between two rocky bluffs that gave access to a sheltered cove. It was no easy task maneuvering the ship through the pass, but once inside they found a deep blue lagoon and a sandy beach
hidden
from the world.

Another ship already waited in the harbor—this one a single-masted cutter that would have paired well with the mighty
Espinola
that Dave Taker had left docked in Marzelle. Corin nodded toward it. “Is that Taker’s?”

Before Ezio could answer, Taker himself appeared on the deck. He considered the newcomers through a battered brass spyglass, watching as they approached. Corin had to fight to suppress a shudder. Even at sixty paces, Corin had no trouble recognizing his old deckhand. Dave Taker had been a brutal infighter and a capable steersman, but the last time Corin had seen the man was when Dave Taker hurled him into the fires of old Jezeeli.

Corin focused hard on the strange gray mist that still hung at the edges of his vision. The illusion should be strong enough to keep him safe, and Corin didn’t dare do anything to shatter it. This was what he’d come for, after all. Of course he’d have to face Dave Taker. And if he meant to find Ethan Blake, he’d have to find some cooperation from the scurvy dog. That meant playing his part, for now. So Corin steeled himself and waited.

As soon as the smugglers’ ship came within hailing distance, Dave Taker lowered the glass and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Who goes?”

Ezio hollered back. “Friends from Ithale. The don sent us.”

“About blasted time! Tell me you brought guns!”

Corin frowned. “Flintlocks?”

“Guns, man!” Dave shouted, furious. “Guns! Cannon! Didn’t Blake get my message? If you’re not here ahead of an armada, you should’ve stayed home. Blake’s a madman, and we’re all gonna die.”