'I can't let you die,' she said.
'It's not you ... you can't?
'I can do what I damn well please,' she said. 'I can get you to Tal Verrar. I can buy you time to get what you need from Stragos. I can help you kick his arse.'
'Ezri,' said Jean, 'Drakasha's right. If I can't get what I need from him ... taking Stragos down is more important?
'Don't say it.'
'I'll do it,' he said. 'It only makes sense. Gods, I don't want to, but if I have no choice I'll trade myself for him.'
'Damn you,' she whispered, and faster than he could react she leapt to her feet, seized him by the front of his tunic and slammed him against the starboard bulkhead. 'You will not! Not if we beat him, Jean Tannen. Not if we win.'
'But if I have no choice?
'Make a new choice, you son of a bitch.' She pinned him to the bulkhead with a kiss that was pure alchemy, and his hands found their way down her tunic, down to her breeches, where he unhitched her weapons belt with as much gratuitous fondling of the areas not covered by it as he could manage.
She took the belt from his hands and flung it against one of the stiffened canvas walls, where it struck with a clattering racket and slid to the floor. 'If there is no way, make a way, Jean Tannen. Losers don't fuck in this particular cabin.'
He picked her up, making a seat for her from his crossed arms, and whirled her around so that her back was against the bulkhead and her feet were dangling. He kissed her breasts through her tunic, grinning at her reaction. He stopped to put his head against her chest; felt the rapid flutter of her heart beneath his left cheek.
'I would have told you,' he whispered. 'Somehow.'
'Somehow, indeed. "Man,"' she said, '"what a mouse he is made by conversation?"
'Oh, it's not enough that I have to take this from you, now I have Lucarno chastising me?
'Jean,' she interrupted, pressing his head more firmly against her with a hug. 'Stay with me.'
'What?'
'This is a good life,' she whispered. 'You suit it. We suit it. After we deal with Stragos ... stay with me.'
'I like it here,' said Jean. 'Sometimes I think I could stay for ever. But there are ... other places I could show you. Other things we could do.'
'I'm not sure I'd adjust well to life on land?
'Land has its pirates, same as the sea,' he murmured between kisses. 'I'm one of them. You could?
'Belay this. We don't have to decide anything now. Just... think on what I said. I didn't bring you in here for negotiations.'
'What did you bring me here for?'
'Noise,' she whispered, starting to pull his tunic off. 'Lots and lots of noise.'
5
Just before the midnight change of watches, Gwillem emerged from his new quarters into the narrow corridor between the ship's four smaller cabins. Scowling, clad only in his breechclout and a hastily thrown-on vest, he stepped across to the door of his old compartment. Bits of flannel rag were stuffed into his ears.
He pounded on the door several times. When no answer was forthcoming, he knocked again and hollered, 'Treganne, you bitch, I'll get you for this!'
6
'Are her preparations almost complete, then?'
The two men met in the roofless ruins of a stone cottage, south of the city proper, so close to the edge of the eerie jungle that not even drunks and gazers would crawl out to it for shelter. It was near midnight, and a hard rain was falling, warm as spit.
'Got all our junk sold just this afternoon. Been taking on water and ale like crazy. More than enough food already. Once we scrape up everyone that wants to get scraped up tomorrow, I'm sure we're gone.'
Jaffrim Rodanov nodded, and for the hundredth time cast his gaze around the broken house and its shadows. Anyone close enough to listen through the noise of the rain would have to be close enough to spot, he reckoned.
'Drakasha said ... disturbing things when she called the council. What's she told you about her plans once she's back at sea?
'Nothing,' said the other man. 'Peculiar. Usually she gives us a good week to get our skulls busted and our purses sucked dry. She's got a fire under her arse and it's a mystery to the rest of us.'
'Of course,' said Rodanov. 'She wouldn't tell you anything until you were on your way. But she's said nothing about the Archon? About Tal Verrar?'
'No. So what do you think she's?
'I know exactly what she's doing. I'm just not entirely convinced it's wise.' Rodanov sighed. 'She might call down a heap of shit on everyone in the Ghostwinds.'
'So now you?
'Yeah.' Rodanov passed a purse over, giving it a shake so the coins within could be heard. 'Just like we discussed. Keep your eyes open. Note what you see. I'll want to hear about it after.'
'And the other thing?'
'Got it here,' said Rodanov, hefting an oilcloth satchel with a heavy weight inside. 'You're sure you have a place where this cannot be found?
'My sea-chest. Privilege of rank, right? Got a false bottom.'
'Good enough.' Rodanov passed the satchel over.
'And if I have to ... use this thing ...'
'Again, like we discussed. Three times what I just paid you, waiting for you once it's done.'
'I want more than that,' said the man. 'I want a place aboard the Sovereign.'
'Of course.' Rodanov extended his hand, and the other man met his grip. They shook in the traditional Vadran fashion, clasping one another's forearms. 'You know I can always use a good man.'
'You're using him right now, hey? Just want to be sure I got a place to call home when all this is over. One way or another.'
Utgar's grin was the faintest crescent of white against the shadows.
7
North by east on the Sea of Brass, with the wet southern wind on the starboard quarter, the Poison Orchid dashed across the waves like a racing mare at last given her head. It was the third day of Aurim.
After a day lost laboriously navigating the twisting, rock-choked passage called the Trader's Gate, they had spent two more dodging reefs and islands, until the last jungle-crowned dome and the last volcanic smoke of the Ghostwinds had sunk beneath the horizon.
'This is the game,' said Drakasha, addressing the group she'd assembled on the quarterdeck. Delmastro, Treganne, Gwillem, Utgar, Nasreen, Oscarl and all the skilled mates - carpenters, sailmakers and so forth. Mumchance listened from his place at the wheel, and Locke listened from the quarterdeck stairs, along with Jean and a half-dozen off-watch sailors. If they hadn't exactly been invited to hear the captain's little speech, neither had they been dissuaded. There was no point, when news would travel through a ship faster than fire.
'We're bound for Tal Verrar,' said Drakasha. 'We're going to allow our new friends Ravelle and Valora to conduct a bit of sneaky business ashore.'
'Bounty,' said Mumchance.
'He's right,' said Gwillem. 'Begging your pardon, Captain, but if we haul up in sight of Tal Verrar?
'If the Poison Orchid drops anchor, aye, I'm worth a lot of money. But if we make some adjustments to my pretty ship here and there, alter the sail plan a bit, swap my stern lanterns for something plainer and paint a false name in huge damn letters at the stern?
'What shall we call her, Captain?' asked the carpenter.
'I'm partial to Chimera?
'That's cheeky,' said Treganne. 'But what's the gain for the rest of us in this "sneaky business", Drakasha?'
'Nothing I care to discuss before the deed is done,' said Drakasha. 'But the gain for all of us will be substantial. You might say we're going out with the blessing of the whole council of captains.'
'Then why aren't they out here lending a hand?' asked Nasreen.
'Because there's only one captain who's best at what she does.' Drakasha gave an exaggerated curtsey. 'Now, back to duties or to slacking, as you were. Spread the word to everyone.'
Locke was slacking a few minutes later, alone with his thoughts at the larboard rail, when Jean took the spot beside him. The sea and sky alike were bronzing around the setting sun and the warm ocean air was nonetheless refreshing after the sweaty atmosphere of the Ghostwinds.
'You feel anything strange?' asked Jean.
'What, about the?Oh, you mean the poison. No. Can't say that I
feel any better or worse than I have for a while. But, ah, I'm sure I'll try to get a message to you if I start vomiting up newts or something. Assuming you could hear anyone knocking at that cabin door?
'Oh, gods. Not you, too. Ezri nearly tipped Gwillem over the taff-rail?
'Well, let's be honest, people will notice the sort of racket that generally accompanies an attack upon the ship?
'And now you are about to have a sudden accident?
'梑y Jeremite Redeemers mounted on cavalry steeds. Where do you find the energy?'
'She makes it easy,' said Jean.
'Ah.'
'She's asked me to stay,' said Jean, looking down at his hands.
'Aboard the ship? Once all of this is over? Assuming there's anything left of us?'
Jean nodded. 'And by me, I'm sure she meant you as well?
'Oh, of course she did,' said Locke, not entirely curbing his reflexive tone of sarcasm. 'What did you say?'
'I asked her ... I thought maybe she could come with us.'
'You love her.' Locke nodded to himself before Jean could answer. 'You're not just marking time while we're out here. You've really fallen off the cliff, haven't you?'
'Yeah,' Jean whispered.
'She's good,' said Locke. 'She's got wits and fire. She has a real taste for taking things away from people at swordpoint, which is an asset in my book. And at least her you can trust at your back in a fight?
'I've always trusted you?
'To be at your back in a fight, sure. But her you can trust not to embarrass everyone before it's over. You two won the day on the Kingfisher, not me. And I saw how she got kicked around - most people would have hugged their hammocks for a few days after that. She's too damn stubborn to stop moving. You two really are a good match.'
'You make it sound like it's her or you?
'Of course it doesn't have to be. But things will change?
'Change, yes. And improve. This doesn't have to mean the end of anything.'
'Take her with us? Three against the world? Start up the whole thing again, rebuild a gang? Haven't we had this conversation before?'
'Yes, and?
'I was doing my best impression of a drunken arsehole at the time. I know.' Locke put his left hand atop Jean's right. 'You're right. Things can change, and improve. We've seen it happen to other people; maybe it can happen to us for once. Soon as we finish the Sinspire game, we'll be richer than hell and no longer welcome in Tal Verrar's polite society. She could come with us ... or you could stay with her?
'I don't know yet,' said Jean. 'Neither of us knows. We've decided to deal with the question by ignoring it for the duration of the voyage.'
'Excellent idea.'
'But I want?
'Listen. When the time comes, you make whatever choice you need to, and you don't think about me, understand? It is a fine match. Maybe you could do better? Locke grinned to let Jean know that there was no actual need to knock his brains out of his skull.'梑ut I know for a solid fact that she couldn't. Ever.' So saying, he squeezed Jean's hand. 'I'm happy for you. You've gone and stolen something back from this whole dead-end distraction Stragos has shoved us into. Hold it tight.'
There was nothing else to say, so they stood listening to the cries of the circling gulls and watched the sun sink into the far horizon, bleeding its fire into the sea. Eventually, heavy footsteps sounded on the quarterdeck stairs behind them.
'My boys,' said Drakasha, appearing behind them and draping her arms across their shoulders, 'just the pair I wanted to speak with. I'm removing you from afternoon watch duty with all the other Reds.'
'Urn ... that's generous,' said Locke.
'No it isn't. From now on, you're detached to the carpenter's mercy for afternoons. Since we're slipping into Tal Verrar for your benefit, most of the alterations to the Orchid are going to be your responsibility. Painting, carving, rigging - you two will be rather busy'
'Wow,' said Locke, 'that sounds like an absolutely grand way to spend the voyage.'
It wasn't.
8
'Land ho,' cried the early-evening foremast watch. 'Land and fire one point on the starboard bow!'
'Fire?' Locke looked up from his hand in the card game that had broken out in the undercastle. 'Shit!' He dropped his cards to the deck,
forfeiting his seven-solari bet for the round. Nearly a year's pay for an honest Verrari labourer; common stakes for the games that took place after shares were paid out. There was a lot of spare coinage floating around the ship, since they'd left Port Prodigal in such a hurry.
Emerging from the undercastle, he nearly slammed into Delmastro.
'Lieutenant, is that Tal Verrar?'
'Has to be.'
'And the fire? Is that certain?' Fire in the city could mean some sort of disaster, or it could mean civil war. Chaos. Stragos might already be dead, or besieged, or even victorious - and therefore in no further need of Locke or Jean.
'It's the twenty-first, Ravelle.'
'I know what bloody day it is; I just - oh. Oh!'
The twenty-first of Aurim: the Festa Iono, the grand pageant of the Lord of the Grasping Waters. Locke sighed with relief. Away from the usual rhythms of the city, he'd all but forgotten about the holiday. At the Festa Iono, the Verrari gave thanks for Iono's influence on the city's fortunes by ceremonially burning old ships while thousands of drunkards made a mess of the docks. Locke had only ever seen it from the balconies of the Sinspire, but it was a lively time. Hell, that would make slipping into the city easier; there'd be a thousand things going on to keep the watch busy.
