Brotherband 3: The Hunters (32 page)

‘The
Seahawk
,’ Mihaly commented.

Thorn shrugged, anger still evident on his face. ‘Is that what she’s called? I don’t know. We were outnumbered, so we took as much as we could from the trader and ran for it. I’d heard talk about this place so that’s why we came here.’

Mihaly sat back in the tall chair, thinking over Thorn’s words. ‘You know the rules here?’ he asked finally.

Thorn nodded. ‘We pay a levy of ten per cent of our plunder and that buys us protection.’

‘That’s right. For a month,’ Mihaly said.

‘Well, we’re carrying leather goods, some high-quality olive oil and a dozen bales of fine silk we took out of the trader. I’ll happily hand over ten per cent of that.’

He waited while Mihaly made notes on a sheet of paper in front of him, using a long, ornate peacock feather quill pen to do so. Then Thorn leaned forward in his chair.

‘There’s another thing,’ he said. ‘I heard a rumour that a captain called Zavac might be heading this way. I’d like to talk to him if he’s here.’

Now Mihaly’s interest was piqued. ‘Zavac?’ he said casually. ‘He might be here. What did you want to talk to him about?’

He sensed there was no love lost between these tough Skandians and the oily, smooth-talking Zavac. He was interested by a possible conflict between the two. There might be a way to turn it to his advantage. He could usually find one in such cases.

Thorn looked him steadily in the eye as he answered.

‘I’d like to talk to him about how I plan to kill him,’ he said.

Mihaly made an imperious gesture in the air between them.

‘Fighting between crews is banned in Raguza,’ he said automatically. ‘Otherwise the system would fall into anarchy within a few weeks. If you have a grudge, you settle it somewhere else.’

Thorn nodded. ‘That’s fair.’

But Mihaly wanted to know more. ‘Why are you intent on killing him?’ he asked.

Thorn sat back, feigned a scowl, then answered.

‘He betrayed us. He recruited us to help him attack a town called Limmat. You know it?’

Mihaly shrugged. ‘I’ve heard of it,’ he said, and Thorn continued, the anger apparent in his words.

‘We sailed in company with Zavac and another ship, the
Stingray
.’ As he said the name, Mihaly’s interest was all too obvious.

‘Nagy’s ship?’ he said. ‘We were wondering what had become of her.’

‘Well, she’s gone. Turns out Limmat was a tougher nut to crack than Zavac told us. And the townspeople were reinforced by a Skandian wolfship that had come after us. We probably could have won. We were getting the upper hand, then Zavac decided to cut and run. Just up and deserted us.

‘That’s when we lost
Stingray
, and most of her crew. Her first mate, Rikard, was the only survivor. We took him on board.’

Mihaly frowned. ‘He’s with you now?’ he said quickly. ‘He can vouch for your story?’

Thorn shook his head sadly. ‘He could have. But he was murdered up north, in a town called Krall. Went into a tavern one night and never made it back to the ship.’

Thorn and Hal had worked on this story over the past day. They decided that mixing elements of true events into it would make it more convincing – particularly if rumours of events in Krall had happened to reach Raguza. And even if Mihaly hadn’t heard of Rikard’s violent end, the odds were good that he would know the man’s name, and that would add credibility to the story.

Watching now, Hal decided that it was time for them to play their winning card.

‘Mind you,’ he put in, ‘there is something that can definitely vouch for it.’

The Korpaljo looked quickly at him. ‘And what might that be?’ he asked slowly.

In answer, Thorn reached into his jerkin and produced a small sack of untanned leather, placing it on the desk and opening it. Mihaly leaned forward, his eyes glittering, as the eight perfect emeralds rolled out onto the polished wooden surface.

‘I told you about our cargo,’ Thorn continued. ‘But this is our share of the plunder from Limmat. You’re entitled to your ten per cent, of course.’

Mihaly reached across the table and picked up one of the emeralds, holding it to the light from the window to appraise it.

‘This is beautiful. Very distinctive colour,’ he said softly. ‘I’ve never seen one quite like it before.’

Hal and Thorn exchanged a quick glance. Then Thorn said, with a note of surprise in his voice, ‘But you must have.’ And when Mihaly looked at him, frowning, he explained, ‘Didn’t Zavac pay you ten per cent of his share? He’s got four times as many as these.’

Mihaly set the emerald down on the polished surface of the table with a soft click. Now it all fell into place. He’d had a suspicion that Zavac had been holding out on him, trying to cheat him. Now these northmen had confirmed it.

‘No,’ he said softly. ‘He never mentioned anything like this.’ He looked up at the sergeant, standing to attention against the wall. ‘Sergeant,’ he said, ‘go and fetch your captain for me, would you? I think I’d like to have words with our friend Zavac.’

Z
avac was relaxing on the stern deck of the
Raven
, sitting in a canvas and wood chair and enjoying the mild sunshine.

Accommodation was expensive in Raguza and the local property owners were all too ready to gouge the purses of captains and crews who stopped there. As a result, most crews chose to stay aboard their ships. Zavac’s men had rigged a tent-shaped awning that ran two-thirds of the length of the
Raven
, providing shelter from the weather. Most ships in the harbour were rigged in a similar fashion. The crew spread their bedding on the sheltered deck space inside the tent. Zavac, of course, had his small enclosed personal space below the central decking in the ship’s stern.

He heard the sound of running footsteps and looked up with mild interest.

Vargas was running along the jetty, his face red from the effort. Sweat stained his shirt. Obviously, he had been running for some distance. But then, Zavac thought sourly, Goathead Bay was some distance from just about everywhere in the harbour.

Vargas clambered down onto
Raven
’s deck and hurried aft to where Zavac sat. The Magyaran skipper leaned forward in his chair, interested to hear what had Vargas so hot under the collar – literally.

‘They’re here!’ Vargas said, wasting no time in getting to the point. Zavac nodded with exaggerated interest.

‘They are?’ he said sarcastically. ‘How amazing.’

Vargas glared at him. Your tune will change in the next few seconds, he thought. He was angry with himself for blurting out the statement, angrier at Zavac for his sneering rejoinder.

‘The Skandians,’ he said. ‘They’re here in Raguza.’

The superior look was wiped from Zavac’s face in the space of a heartbeat. His brows contracted and his face darkened with anger.

‘Here? Where? What are they doing?’ he demanded.

Vargas shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea what they’re doing,’ he said. ‘But I saw their ship moored alongside the quay in the main harbour.’

‘You mean they’re prisoners? Their ship was captured?’ Zavac said, clinging to hope while he could. But Vargas was shaking his head.

‘Didn’t look like it to me. They were moored alongside as I said, near Winder Street. I didn’t see anyone standing guard. Their crew was going about their business normally enough.’

Zavac slumped back in his chair, his hand to his chin, thinking furiously. How could they have got here? How could they have gained entry to the harbour? How had they broken free from Bayrath? He cursed silently. He had paid the Gatmeister a lot of money to throw that crew in prison and hang them. Now here they were. He took a vow that he would kill Doutro for this betrayal. They could only have made it past Bayrath if he’d let them through the boom.

His frantic thoughts were interrupted by the regular tramp of multiple heavy-shod feet approaching. He looked up and saw a captain of the Korpal guard, with a squad of half a dozen armed men, marching at double time down the wooden jetty.

It wasn’t hard to tell where they were heading. The captain’s eyes were fixed on the
Raven.
Slowly, Zavac rose from his seat. This didn’t bode well, he thought. As they came level with the
Raven
, the squad ranged themselves along the jetty, facing the ship. The captain climbed down the access ladder fixed to the jetty and stepped aboard. This was a distinct breach of etiquette. Normally, any visitor would ask permission before coming aboard a ship – unless they had unpleasant official business to transact. The captain glanced around, saw Zavac and Vargas in the stern and walked towards them. Zavac rose from his chair and stepped forward to meet the soldier, forcing a smile on his lips.

‘Good morning, Captain,’ he said smoothly. ‘Can I help you in some way?’

The captain ignored the smile. He answered brusquely with his own question. ‘Are you Zavac?’

Zavac nodded, still smiling, although it was the last thing he felt like doing. The captain’s manner was unnerving.

‘I’m Zavac,’ he said, ‘captain of this ship.’ He added this last pointedly. A ship’s captain was entitled to a certain amount of deference, after all. But the soldier was unimpressed. He jerked a thumb towards the jetty behind him.

‘You’re to come with me,’ he said. ‘The Korpaljo wants to talk to you.’

Zavac raised his eyebrows. ‘He does? What does he want to talk about?’

‘No idea. Let’s get going. Now.’ He half turned, jerking his thumb towards the ladder once more. Obviously, the Korpaljo’s summons wasn’t for a friendly chat, Zavac thought. The captain mightn’t know what Mihaly wanted to talk about, but he knew it wasn’t anything favourable to Zavac. Zavac shrugged, showing what a good-natured person he really was. He turned to Vargas.

‘Well, Vargas, apparently the Korpaljo wants to see us . . .’ he began. But the captain cut across him.

‘Just you. Nobody else.’

Zavac cursed under his breath. He’d wanted to have a witness to the discussion. You never knew when a witness would come in handy – particularly when dealing with the Korpaljo, who tended to be high handed and autocratic. But he hid his anger and walked submissively to the ladder. He paused and called back to his crewman.

‘Tell Andras I’ll be back in . . .’ He paused and turned to the captain. ‘How long will this take?’ he asked.

The captain shrugged indifferently. ‘How would I know?’ he replied.

His unfriendly, unco-operative manner continued to worry Zavac. Mihaly definitely had something against him. He racked his brains, trying to think what it could be. He had a sinking feeling that it might concern the emeralds he had kept hidden. That might have been a mistake, he realised.

He wondered briefly if the summons had anything to do with the appearance of the Skandian ship in Raguza, but he dismissed the thought. He could see no way they could be associated with this predicament. Most likely one of his crew had talked about the emeralds in a tavern – and had been overheard.

He strode quickly through the narrow streets, keeping pace with the captain. The rest of the guard were formed closely around him, hemming him in and forestalling any chance of escape. Passers-by glanced curiously at the party as they marched through the streets, heavy boots ringing on the cobbles.

It took them twenty minutes to reach the tower building. Zavac was ushered up the stairs and into the Korpaljo’s office. Mihaly looked up as he entered. His gaze was stony and unfriendly. He said nothing, and an uncomfortable silence developed in the room.

‘You wanted to see me, Korpaljo?’ Zavac said, finally. It was a disingenuous statement, he knew. Obviously the Korpaljo wanted to see him. He’d had him dragged here through the streets under guard. Mihaly disdained to answer the question.

‘You’re a liar, Zavac,’ he said bluntly. ‘A liar and a cheat.’

Zavac thought it best to say nothing until he knew more. He had no idea what Mihaly was talking about and blustering about his innocence would do more harm than good.

To his surprise, Mihaly didn’t pursue the matter but made a sign to one of the guards in the room.

‘Let them back in,’ he said. The guard moved to one of the doors leading to side rooms and opened it.