The Wrath of a Shipless Pirate (The Godlanders War) (2 page)

C
orin shed his cloak, careful not to disturb the contents of its many pockets as he stretched it out across his bed. He tucked his book beneath it—the precious artifact bound up in cracked leather—and then unbuckled the sword
Godslayer
and laid it on top. He rolled his shoulders, shut his eyes, and caught a long, slow breath.

“I haven’t rested,” he told Charlie. “Not since you left me in the cavern. I have done war with ancient gods. I have pursued my enemies across a trackless desert and abducted you from just beneath the caliph’s guards.” He sank down on the floor and leaned his head back against the bare wall. “I’m tired, Charlie.”

Charlie answered with a stammer in his voice. “Are
…
are you gonna kill me, Captain?”

Corin smiled without opening his eyes. “I am afraid the moment’s passed. Unless you do something new to earn it—”

“
Never
, Captain!”

“Then no. I will not kill you. But I will thank you for some information.”

“You picked the worst of men for that. You should know better.”

“You’re all I’ve got.”

“Then I’ll tell you what I know. We left the cavern full of books—”

“Empty-handed,” Corin growled.

Charlie surprised him. “Umm
…
mostly. Mostly empty
-handed.”

Corin cracked an eye. “Only ‘mostly’?”

“There were some among us heard the sense in what you said. You have to know that. When you was screaming that these books were worth a ransom, some of us thought to grab one here or there. To tuck one in a pocket, say, or down our breeches.”

“Clever,” Corin said. Then, after a moment, “And you were one of them?”

Charlie snickered. “I’m hardly clever, Captain. No. But some of the men came away with books. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Is it an important point?”

“It likely is. I’ll let you decide it soon enough.”

“Ah. Then carry on.”

“Y’see, the captain—”

Corin arched an eyebrow, and Charlie stammered to a stop. “Beg pardon, Captain, but you was gone. So Ethan Blake said he was captain now, and Dave Taker backed him up, and who were we to challenge him?”

“Your loyalty commends you.”

“Thank ye, Captain.”

“Go on.”

“Well, the captain caught wind somehow that there were those who’d stowed some books away, so halfway back to Khera he called ’em out. There was an argument on the topic, and D
ave Ta
ker stuck old Carter in the back. Bled ’im out right there on the sand, just to take some dusty book from him.”

“Some dusty book?”

“Aye, well, the captain said it’d be safe enough, now we we
re cl
ear of the cavern. But these books were booty, right, and there’re rules. So he gathered them all up—”

“Every one?”

“Every one, and he stowed ’em in a strongbox saying he’d divide the ransom once he’d found a buyer.”

Corin nodded. “I begin to see where this is heading.”

“Well, not everyone was happy with this turn.”

“It was Blake who set all the
other
books on fire, after all.”

“Exactly! So some of the men who’d been clever enough to save them thought that
they
deserved the loot.”

“And they mutinied? Before he ever got to Khera?”

Charlie shook his head. “They never got the chance.
Captain Bla
ke discovered their intentions, and Dave Taker slit their throats while they was sleeping.”

“Gods’ blood!” Corin spat.

“Nope. Just nameless pirates’.”

Corin ground his teeth. “This is the man you chose to back instead of me.”

“You don’t have to point out my mistake. Oh, now I know it well. I know it well. And that’s why I decided to get out of the pirating business altogether. That’s why I was
here
when you came looking.”

“Here in Khera?”

“Aye, aye! Y’see, I found myself in possession of one of these books.”

“I thought you said you hadn’t looted one.”

“Oh, not from the cavern, no. I got mine later.”

“From the strongbox?”

“Well, we couldn’t take the strongbox with us when we sank the ships. That was where we stored the dwarven powder.”

“You sank the ships? You sank them on purpose?”

“Not
me
. I couldn’t have made up a plan like that. It was Taker. When the justicar had found us, Taker trapped him in the ship’s hold and told the captain we would have to sink the ship, or we would all be answering to Ephitel.”

“You sank the
Diavahl
to kill a justicar.”

“Ooh.” Charlie gave a little whistle. “Gods grant we killed him.
He’s a justicar. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn he’s still alive, still trapped inside our brig beneath the sea off Jebbra Point.”

Corin closed his eyes again and groaned. “You raise more questions than you answer, Charlie Claire.”

“Beg pardon, Captain.”

“No. No pardon. Just save the tales for now and tell me
why
you stole a book.”

“To get away. It’s like I said. Ethan Blake was a miserable captain, and his first mate was a madman. When we moved the booty off the ship, I found a chance to slip away. I grabbed a book and slipped away in the confusion.”

“That worked?”

“Oh, when the powder blew, there was a good confusion. They likely think I’m dead. I’d be surprised if all of them
survived
. It was not a careful blast.”

Corin had his doubts that someone like Blake would miss such a detail, but he kept that to himself. He rubbed his brow, still trying to understand how all the pieces fit together. “Again. You stole the book and brought it here to Khera
…
”

“Not straight to Khera. I stopped in Aljira, where I found Sleepy Jim.”

Corin perked up. “Is he here? Did you bring him with you?”

“Nah. Jim gave up the sea. Found a pretty brown girl and an olive press and made himself a proper man.”

Corin grinned despite himself. “Good for Sleepy Jim.”

Charlie spat. “What kind of life is there on land?”

“The kind you’re looking for, unless I lost track of your story.”

“True enough. It’s true enough. I found Sleepy Jim and told him what I had, what I wanted, and he found me a buyer.”

“Here in Jepta?”

“No. Ithale. Some scholar who was interested in ancient things. I don’t know how Jim knew him.”

“Jim knows everyone. It’s one of the advantages of
becoming an
old pirate.”

“Well. There you go. He sent a messenger to Nicia and got one back, and we arranged a meet. The scholar didn’t trust a trip to Aljira, but he was willing to come to Khera.”

“It’s a shorter trip.”

“And the caliph’s guards do not like pirates much.”

Corin chuckled. “No. Less and less, it seems.”

“Well. That’s it. That’s my whole tale.”

Corin sat up straight and tossed a glare at his old deckhand. “What? That can’t be all. What became of Iryana? And
Ethan Bl
ake?”

“Storms take ’em, but I don’t know. That’s why I ran away.”

“And you’ve heard nothing?”

“I’ve done everything to keep right out of sight. I don’t know a thing.”

“Then
…
” Corin sighed. “You were right, Charlie Claire. You’re useless to me. But tell me the rest.”

“The rest?”

“What became of your transaction?”

“You’re not listening!” Charlie wailed, gesturing wildly toward the open window. “It was today.
That’s
who I was waiting for down at the docks. He was coming in this afternoon, but you abducted me!”

“Then I begin to understand your earlier frustration.”

Charlie grumbled under his breath a moment, then raised his voice in something close to despair. “What am I to do, Captain? I had one shot—”

“You do still have the book?”

“Oh, of course I do, but how often will you find a man who’d pay two thousand livres for a book?”

“Show me. Where is it stashed?”

Corin had expected Charlie Claire to name a place, but instead the pirate blushed a bit and turned away. He rummaged in his breeches a moment, muttering, then dragged out a
battered
volume. Corin accepted the manuscript only reluctantly, but he could not have refused. He had to see it. He had to know.

But there was nothing special here. Its cover was of
ordinary
leather, supple, and its pages silk-soft paper. Nothing like the artifact that Corin carried. The pirate captain opened to an
interior
page and read a line or two, but it was dry and dull.
Corin had rescue
d from the fire the final memory of Oberon himself, scratched out on the flesh of the city’s dying biographer, and in its epilogue it told of Corin’s future.

But this? This was the biography of some meticulous h
otelier who
once had lived in Jezeeli. It would be worth a
fortune at
the University, but it was no treasure trove for Corin. Still, he riffled the pages and listened to their gentle whisper.

A fortune indeed. And as it happened, Corin was in need of some funds. Perhaps Charlie Claire would be some use to him after all. Corin kept that thought to himself, but he offered Charlie Claire a genuine grin. “A book like this will find a buyer on its own. Let’s get back down to the docks.”

They didn’t travel by the dream this time. Powerful as Oberon’s magic had proven, Corin had no desire to lose any more time. Instead, they walked the city’s empty streets. Once or twice Charlie spoke up to tell him of some event that had transpired in the hundred days he’d lost, but mostly they were quiet. Silence lay across the city in the early hours, and it seemed wrong so
mehow
to break it.

But the docks were far less reverent. Sailors woke and slept according to the hours of the tides, not sun or moon, so even now the piers were bustling as ships were loaded and bleary-eyed passengers climbed unsteadily up narrow gangplanks. Charlie’s gaze kept drifting toward them, searching for the man he’d hoped to meet.

Corin never even looked in that direction. Instead, he caught Charlie’s sleeve and dragged him hard toward the wine shop where the two had planned to meet. “Come on! Forget the ships. The man you’re looking for is over here.”

Charlie sighed, defeated. “I’m telling you, he won’t be there. Chances are, he left at sunset. We’re near enough ten hours late. What kind of posh would wait that long?”

Corin arched an eyebrow. “The same kind who’d travel all the way from Nicia to meet with you. The same who’d pay tw
o thousand
livres for a book.” Corin hesitated, weighing t
he bo
ok in his hand. “Four thousand. I would swear to it.”

Charlie shook his head. “It was Sleepy Jim negotiated two. You can’t do better than Jim.”

“I can. I have. Why do you think they made me captain?”

Charlie stared at him a moment. Then he ducked his head, looking almost bashful. “Captain
…
would you
…
I mean, if you would be kind enough
…
will you do the deal for me? Four
thousand
livres’d get a man much further than two.”

Corin couldn’t hide his grin. He’d been thinking the same thing and wondering how to get Charlie to trust him. “I’ll see what I can do. Just peek inside and find the man and point
him ou
t to me.”

“I still find it hard to—”

“He’s there. Have faith. Just take a peek.”

Charlie shrugged aside his doubts and complied with
Corin’s order
s. He crept close to the tavern’s open door and peeked around the corner. His search had barely started when he gave a startled gasp and turned back to Corin. “How did you
…
how could you have known?”

“He’s there?”

“He’s just about asleep in his own cups, but he is there.”

“Which table?” Corin straightened his tunic and adjusted the sword belt on his hip. “What’s he wearing? What age?”

“Fourth table down the far wall. He’s dressed in robes like these dirty locals wear, but you can tell him by his golden rings and pale skin. And er
…
” Charlie’s lips moved silently as he reviewed all the questions; then he nodded once. “Oh! Twenty summers. Maybe twenty-one.”