Raven Quest (3 page)

The scent of salt from the sea replaced the reek of Port Royal. Noise vanished into the soft sound of the waves stroking the shore. Dim light filtered from the forts overlooking the city.

Rory longed to dig her bare toes into the warm sand. She wanted to race into the water, letting the waves lift her out of the drudgery of Port Royal and take her to a distant land.

“How far is it to the Blindman's hut?”

Captain Lawler's voice shattered her reverie. “I told you I wished to see the gold before I took you there.”

“I could put this pistol to your head,” he murmured as he drew a gun from beneath his red waistcoat.

A gun! Knowing she must be bold, she smiled. “You cannot afford to kill me, Captain.” She wiggled her fingers. “And I could not afford to have you pay me at Yellow Hal's place. I do not want anyone knowing that I have even a pinch of gold. Give me the money now, and I shall take you to the Blindman.”

“Your friend will tell me whatever I want to know if—” He grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her. Holding the pistol in front of her face, he laughed.

His breath was warm against her cheek. When her hat slipped toward her left ear, she knew she had to do something quickly. She could not let him discover the truth.

“You will not find the Blindman without my help,” she whispered.

“True.” Releasing her, he slipped the gun back beneath his waistcoat. Tossing the small bag to her, he said, “Let's go.”

Rory straightened her hat, then emptied the bag into her hand. Carefully, she counted the coins. She grinned as she put all but one coin back into the bag. “Our agreement was what I asked for minus the one coin you already paid me.”

Nathan smiled with grudging admiration. Too bad the lad was determined to stay ashore. He had a sharp wit, and he was brave. Such a lad would be a good addition to the crew.

“All right, Rory. Lead the way. I am anxious to meet this Blindman.”

“The Blindman's hut is up there.” She pointed through the trees. “He told me to wait here.” Her chin jutted. “Captain Lawler, he is an old man and my friend. Don't hurt him.”

Nathan did not doubt the softly spoken threat. Rory would find some way of paying him back if he injured the Blindman.

Quietly, he said, “You have my vow as captain of the
Vengeance
that I will not hurt your friend.”

With a sharp laugh, Rory said, “What good is a pirate's vow?”

“I'm not—” He clamped his lips closed, then saw the quick flash of suspicion in those blue eyes and hurried to add, “I'm not used to being questioned, Rory. 'Tis a good thing you do not want to join us.”

He left the lad sputtering with fury as he climbed through the trees. A small hut was set within the shadows. Knocking on the doorframe that was covered with frayed material, he shoved aside the flap and entered.

In the dim light from a single candle, he could see the room was crowded with crates, half of them broken. A sextant, a compass, and, surprisingly, a book were stored in the boxes.

Before him, on a low bench, an elderly man sat. His white whiskers dropped across his bare chest. He wore only a pair of breeches, even more ragged than Rory's.

“Come in and sit, son,” the bearded man said.

Nathan tipped one of the crates over and sat. “Are you the Blindman?”

“I am. You must be Lawler.” He picked up a clay pipe and puffed on it. “Have you paid Rory as you agreed?”

“Yes. He made sure.”

“I suspected that
he
would.” The old man chuckled.

“What is so amusing?”

“Nothing important. Tell me what you want, and I will tell you what it will cost you.”

Rory and his friend were determined to get all the gold he had left. Then he reminded himself that if they had what he needed, it would be worth any price.

He kept his voice even. “I want information on the
Raven,
captained by Stuart Powell. Her last known port was Port Royal.”

“The
Raven?
” gasped the old man, and his smile fled. “Why are you looking for a ship that was sent to the bottom by the Spanish 25 years ago? Are you interested in ghosts?”

“My interest in her is my business. I need to know her destination on that last voyage. Can you help me?”

“Such information is costly, my friend.”

“How much?”

The Blindman drew on his pipe again. “I want Rory taken to Santiago de Cuba.”

“Why?”

“That is
my
business, Lawler.” He smiled again. “I want you to buy passage for Rory on a ship licensed by the king. Until that is arranged, I cannot tell you anything.”

Rory could not know about this. The lad was vehement about not leaving Port Royal except on his own terms. Not only would Nathan have to find a ship to take the boy, but he would have to bind Rory hand and foot to be sure he was on it when it sailed. His smile returned.
That
might be the best part of the bargain.

“I shall see to it on the morrow, Blindman,” he replied. “Rory will be a passenger on the next privateer sailing to Santiago de Cuba, if he can stay out of trouble until then.”

The old man laughed and slapped his bare thigh. “Do not fret. Rory is honest.”

Nathan snorted in disbelief.

“Rory is as honest as anyone in Port Royal. Rory's family is dead. Things have been rough. That is why I want Rory to have a new start. Now, before you go, tell me what you need to know about the
Raven
.”

“Everything. All I know is a riddle that I was given.”

“A riddle?” The old man leaned forward, rearranging the smoke around his head. “What do you mean?”

“A man washed ashore in Maryland colony. The man was fevered but spoke of a treasure awaiting the lucky man who could unravel the clues leading to the resting place of the
Raven.
”

“So you found a crew to search for the
Raven?
”

“Yes.”

“Tell me this riddle.

Nathan hesitated.

“Look at me, son. Do I look as if I could sail a ship?”

“Rory—”

“Yes, Rory might be willing to try to beat you to the
Raven,
but you have a ship already. How long would it take Rory to get one?”

The words to the riddle rang through his mind. He had repeated them every night while he had waited for his ship to be made ready, while he had sailed south, while he had searched the Caribbean. He knew the words, but not their meanings:

Look for the black bird of the dawn.

The shepherd's tale will steer you on

Between the low gods and Spain.

Seek the coral key if treasure you yearn to gain.

“I shall keep the exact words to myself,” Nathan said quietly. “You remember the
Raven.
I do. Others may.”

The Blindman smiled. “Come back when you have a ship to take Rory away from Jamaica. I will give you the answers you seek.”

“You know? Tell me now!”

“Now, Captain Lawler, I find my mind is confused.”

Frustration taunted him.
Blast this old fool!
No, Nathan Lawler was the fool. He had nothing to bargain with. He must play their game.

With a slow smile, he said, “You, Blindman, dare much to brag of what you know and then withhold it.”

“Not so true, young man. I know you need both me and Rory to help you.” His laugh rumbled like a storm pounding the shore. “Meet Rory at Yellow Hal's place when you have made all arrangements for the trip. Only if you are both here will I give you the information.” The Blindman held out his hand in Nathan's direction: “I trust Rory is waiting outside.”

“Yes.” What was the old man planning now?

“Call—” He laughed. “Call the lad in.”

The Blind man was enjoying Nathan's frustration far too much. No matter. He soon would be done with old men and cheeky lads. Then the gold would be his to share with his crew. No one would call him a witless dreamer again.

He pushed aside the flap. Seeing Rory sitting by the waves, he put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. Another chuckle came from behind him, but he ignored it as he waved to the boy.

Rory scowled, then pushed past him. “I am here, Blindman. Did he do anything to—?”

“Do not worry about me, Rory.” With a laugh, the old man patted the lad on the arm. “No man has gotten the better of me in a deal. I wanted to give you a birthday present.”

“Birthday?”

Nathan watched, not sure if the old man was passing some cryptic message along with the battered book, covered in cracked black leather, and a small box with sea shells and other ocean debris decorating the top.

“I want you to have these for your birthday,” the Blindman said.

“Thank you.”

More words Nathan had not expected to hear the boy use. He watched the lad run his fingers over the decorated box. Rory treated the old man with genuine respect.

Nathan said nothing as he followed Rory back to the moonlit beach. As they walked back toward the city, the boy stared at the book and the box.

“Odd gifts to celebrate the anniversary of your birth,” Nathan murmured.

“If it is my birthday. The Blindman likes to jest.”

“You don't know your birthday?”

“My mother is dead. My father abandoned us. I heard he died before I was born.” With a stiff smile, he shoved the box and book into the pocket under his breeches. “Birthdays do not mean much when no one wanted you to be born in the first place.”

“I—”

Rory seized his arm. “Captain Lawler! Look out!”

He whirled at Rory's shout. Men leaped from the shadows. He saw the boy turn to run. Was this a trap? He should never have trusted the blasted imp.

Nathan was down before he could pull his gun. He twisted free, but the man tried to pin him again. Nathan met him with a bare blade. The man's shriek rang along the strand.

Jumping to his feet, Nathan saw the other men fleeing. He wiped his knife on the dead man's shirt and swore as he saw another body lying on the sand.

“Rory!” he shouted.

He got no answer. Hurtling over the corpse, he knelt next to Rory. He put his hand on the boy's chest.
No heartbeat!
He cursed, then realized the whisper of warmth against his arm was the boy's breath. Putting his fingers to the boy's throat, he found a steady beat there. An ache across his head threatened to send him into oblivion, but he fought it as he groped for the lad's chest again. Why was the boy wearing such thick undergarments in this heat?

If he stayed here long enough to figure that out, the attackers might return. He had to get both of them out of here before they were dead.

He angled the lad's head toward him, then cursed. Blood trickled down Rory's left cheek. He slipped his arms under the slight body and lifted it carefully. His knees foundered beneath him, and he sat hard.

He should take the boy somewhere where someone could tend to his wounds. The Blindman? They were closer to Port Royal than the hut. The whores? They might ignore the lad. If Rory died, he guessed the Blindman would never give him the information he needed.

Struggling to his feet, Nathan saw the
Vengeance
in the harbor. Ernest was a good leech. He would take Rory there. He and his crew had given up too much to find the
Raven
's gold. They would not be stopped by this.

His steps faltered. Had it been random? Another reason to get out of Port Royal with all speed.

He lurched to the wharf, where Alfred was waiting, he ordered, with the lighter. Nathan was glad to see that. The cook had not been happy about waiting while Nathan went to Yellow Hal's place.

Splashing through the water, Alfred called, “What is that, Cap'n?”

He cursed when pain seared through his head. “The boy saved my life, so the least we can do is patch him up.”

Alfred steadied the boat as Nathan climbed in and placed Rory on the bottom, which was damp with bilge. Hoping the reeking water would rouse the lad came to naught. Save for the blood inching along his cheek, the boy could have been asleep. He checked the beat along Rory's throat again. It was still strong.

By the time they reached the
Vengeance,
the dull throb in Nathan's head had become an explosion. His eyes blurred as he shouted up to have a litter lowered for Rory. Fighting to keep his footing, he grabbed the rope ladder and scrambled aboard before his knees gave out altogether.

His crew clustered around as Ernest guided the litter to the deck. Nathan knelt next to Rory. The lad must be hurt badly if he still was not awake.

“Is he dead?” asked Ernest.

“No, knocked senseless,” Nathan replied, struggling to keep his own wits about him. A lantern was held high. “How bad is he?”

Ernest pushed back the cloth around the boy's head to reveal golden hair. “Looks bad, but 'tis just a scratch.” Sitting back on his heels, he asked, “What happened?”

“We were ambushed. If not for Rory's warning, I might be fish bait now.”

“How 'bout you, Cap'n?”

“Don't worry about me right now. See to the lad.”

“Aye, Cap'n.” When Ernest drew off the floppy hat Rory wore, the scarf fell away. “What in—?”

Nathan stared as a river of gold hair flowed across the deck. He picked up a strand of the silk, not sure he could believe his eyes. Snarling an oath, he ripped open Rory's shirt. He pushed aside a tarnished chain that held a charm and a small pouch. He stared at the binding around his—no,
her
chest.

“A woman!” exclaimed Ernest, as the other crewman pushed forward. “I'll be cuckolded and called the king's fool!”

As he stared at Rory's face, softened with senselessness, Nathan wondered how he could have been so stupid. The delicate curves of her face were unquestionably pretty. She was slim-waisted, and he suspected the breasts hiding beneath the binding would offer much pleasure to a man. Recalling how her fiery eyes snapped at him, he imagined that passion surging all around him.