Corsair

THIRTY

20 Marpenoth, the Year of the Ageless One (1479 DR)

It was a clear fall afternoon as Seadrake sailed proudly past Hulburg’s towering Arches and began to take in her sails. The day was cool and bright, and the breeze carried just enough of the coming winter’s chill to make Geran glad for his good wool cloak. He inhaled deeply, relishing the familiar taste of the air. For all the wonders of the Sea of Night, he was very glad to have the purple-hued waters of the Moonsea beneath the keel and the clean, rocky shores of his homeland before his eyes. The day might come when he’d set his course for the starry skies again, but for now he was content with the common sights and sounds of Hulburg. The Black Moon Brotherhood was broken, their ships destroyed and their members scattered. Sergen Hulmaster, traitor and would-be usurper, was dead by his hand and would never trouble the family Hulmaster again. And Mirya and Selsha Erstenwold stood by his side on the deck, even more glad for the sight of home than he was.

“For a time I never thought to look on Hulburg again,” Mirya said quietly. “I knew we’d spend the rest of our days in chains in some far foreign land.”

Geran shook his head. “I’d have found you.”

“Why, Geran? That’s the question that’s been foxing me for days now.” She looked into his face. “What am I to you that you’d sail to the moon to save me?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted before he even knew what he was saying. “I mean, you and Selsha are dear to me. I had to come after the two of you, to make sure that you were safe and home.” He searched for words for a moment before going on. “I’ve made mistakes in my time. Everyone has, I suppose. I can’t go back and choose differently, but looking after you-and Selsha-makes me feel that there are things I can set right again. There’s a darkness in my heart. Seeing the two of you safe and well lightens it.”

Mirya didn’t answer for a long time. Then she sighed. “I’m no penance of yours, Geran Hulmaster.”

“No, it’s not that. If you were-I mean, if that’s the way I saw you-I’d resent the time I spend with you. But I don’t, Mirya.” He looked down at her and tried to find a smile. “Little by little, I think you’re healing me of hurts I didn’t know I had. That’s why I had to come after you.”

“In all the years I’ve known you, that’s the first time I think you’ve ever allowed me a glimpse of what’s truly in your heart.” She frowned and pulled back, looking away from him. “There’s nothing special about me, you know. I’ve darkness of my own, and some days it’s near to drowning me. I don’t know what power I have to heal anyone.”

He didn’t know what more to say, and so he returned his attention to the town. The familiar wharves of Hulburg drew closer, full of cart traffic and passersby on foot who were now stopping and looking seaward to see what ship was coming to call. The battered hulks of Seawolf and Daring rested on the bottom by the dockside in the center of the town, their masts and tangled rigging jutting crookedly up out of the water. “Take in all sails! Run out the oars!” called Worthel from the quarterdeck. Geran missed the gruff skill of Andurth Galehand, but Worthel was a competent shiphandler too, and he served as Seadrake’s sailing master as well as her first mate. Many of Seadrake’s sailors had more than one job to do on the voyage back from pirate’s hidden keep. They were sorely shorthanded after the fierce fighting in the Tears of Selune, having borne the brunt of the battle in Sergen’s bold attempt to steal Seadrake out from under their noses, and so the Shieldsworn and sellswords went to the oars to lend a hand with the rowing.

“Look! The soldiers are lining up to welcome us!” Selsha Erstenwold, standing a short distance from Mirya and Geran, pointed over the rail and jumped in excitement. “And look at all the people!”

Geran followed her gaze. Several companies of armsmen in the colors of several different merchant companies had appeared by the wharves and were taking up station. “I suppose they caught wind of our victory in the Sea of Night,” he said, thinking aloud. “But how they could have heard the news, I have no idea.”

“A divination or sending, perhaps?” Sarth came to join Geran and Mirya by the rail, with Hamil close behind him. The tiefling frowned, puzzling at the question. “No, not a sending. Who was left behind in the keep to work such a spell, and why would they have done it? It must have been a divination of some sort. A merchant House wizard scried our return.”

“Then where are the Shieldsworn?” Hamil asked in a low voice. “Where are Harmach Grigor and Kara?” He frowned. No, I don’t like the looks of this, Geran. Be careful!

Seadrake shipped her oars and glided alongside the pier; sailors threw out the ship’s mooring lines and brought the caravel to a halt, riding gently at the dock. As soon as the sailors laid the gangway in place, a detachment of armsmen wearing the red and yellow surcoats of House Marstel quickly boarded and made their way directly to Geran. Their captain was a short, broad-shouldered Damaran with a sandy goatee and eyes the color of steel. “Geran Hulmaster?” he asked. “You are summoned before the harmach. Come with us peaceably, or we will subdue you by whatever means are necessary.”

“Who are you?” Mirya demanded. “And since when does the harmach send a Marstel man to carry his messages?”

“Since Maroth Marstel became harmach,” the captain answered. “I am Edelmark, Captain of the Hulburg Guard. Now, if you please, Harmach Maroth is waiting.”

Geran stared at the man, so stunned that he could not speak for a long moment. Harmach Maroth-Maroth Marstel? His uncle, Grigor, was no longer ruler of Hulburg? He’d only been gone from the city a little more than a tenday! Finally he found his voice again. “What happened? Where is Harmach Grigor? Where is Kara Hulmaster?”

“All the Hulmasters have fled,” Captain Edelmark answered flatly. “Lord Marstel is now harmach of Hulburg, and he wants you brought to Griffonwatch without delay. I grow tired of repeating myself.”

“Are you arresting Geran?” Hamil asked. His hands rested lightly on the hilts of the daggers at his belt.

“I will do whatever I have to in order to carry out my lord’s instructions,” the officer said. “I’d take my hands off those daggers, if I were you, little man. There are two hundred armsmen on the pier behind me.”

“There are fifty here on this ship,” said Worthel. The Red Sail first mate stood nearby with his arms folded across his chest. “Geran goes nowhere he doesn’t care to, Captain.”

Geran held up his hand. The last thing he wanted to see was a battle at Seadrake’s slip. Many good men would be killed, and Hulburg had already lost enough. “You may escort me to Marstel, Captain,” he said. His voice seemed steadier than he felt. “But no one else aboard this ship is to be troubled. They’ve fought and bled for Hulburg in strange, far places, and they deserve a hero’s welcome.”

“My orders only concern you,” Edelmark said. He motioned for Geran to precede him.

Sarth looked at the armsmen gathered on the pier and then back to Geran. The tiefling narrowed his eyes. “I will come too,” he said. “Anyone who thinks to lay hands on Geran will have me to reckon with.”

“And I,” said Hamil. He shot the captain a hard look and very plainly left one hand resting on a dagger hilt. “You can bring ten men along, Captain. The rest of your little army can stay right here, or Geran won’t go anywhere with you.”

“Fine,” the captain snapped. “Can we go now?”

“A moment,” Geran said. He turned to Mirya and took her hand. “Go ahead and take Selsha home. It should be fine. I’ll be by later, as soon as I straighten all this out.”

She nodded, although she couldn’t help but glance at the guardsmen waiting on the pier. “Mind your step, Geran Hulmaster. And, for all you’ve done for us-thank you.” She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek and then took Selsha by the hand and led her down to the pier.

With that, Geran looked to Sarth and Hamil and then followed Mirya to the wharf. Edelmark ordered ten of his men to come with him, dismissed the rest of his companies, and left a token force at the foot of the wharf. Then the Hulburg Guards-an army made up of the armsmen of the Merchant Council Houses, as far as Geran could tell-escorted the three companions through the streets of the town to the foot of Griffonwatch. It was a tense and silent walk, with little conversation. Edelmark refused to say more than he’d already said, and his men didn’t dare say more with their captain on hand. But the signs of recent fighting in the streets spoke clearly enough for them. More burned buildings, familiar shops boarded up, small groups of Hulburg Guards stationed on the corners, and no sight of the Shieldsworn or the native-born militias who’d been keeping the peace in the streets for months now.

They marched beneath the castle gate, and Edelmark took them directly to the great hall. The Harmach’s Council was gathered to await him, but as Geran approached, he realized that this was not the council he knew. In the places formerly reserved for Grigor Hulmaster’s advisors and the officers of the realm, the heads of the large merchant companies sat-the masters of the Double Moon Coster, the Iron Ring Coster, House Jannarsk, and of course Nimessa Sokol, whose face was set in an unhappy frown. Marstel’s former seat was vacant; instead the old lord now slumped in Harmach Grigor’s great wooden seat. Wulreth Keltor still held his seat as Keeper of Keys, but no other councilor who’d served under Grigor was at the table. How many of the others had been forced to flee? Geran wondered. How many were dead? The murmur of voices in the hall fell still as he drew near, and the men and women gathered in Griffonwatch’s hall silently watched him.

Captain Edelmark stepped forward and addressed Marstel. “Lord Harmach, I have brought Geran Hulmaster,” he said.

Marstel stirred himself and peered at Geran. “So you have,” he said. “Very good. We have some important matters to discuss, I believe. What of Seadrake?”

“She is moored to the old Veruna wharf. I left a company to guard the ship.” Edelmark frowned tightly. “There is a detachment of almost fifty Shieldsworn aboard, my lord. They should be disarmed immediately, and the ship placed under guard.”

“I would advise against it,” Geran said. “Unless I order them to stand down, Seadrake’s company will resist any such attempt.”

“They’re outnumbered five to one,” the captain said. “You’ll have them stand down, or you’ll be responsible for their deaths.”

Geran turned his head slightly and spared Edelmark a single glance. “I do not answer to you,” he said firmly. Then he looked back to Marstel. His surprise at the situation was rapidly giving way to a mounting anger. Marstel was seated in his uncle’s throne, calling himself the harmach, and he was acting as if he’d always been there! He took two steps forward. “Lord Marstel, what is going on here?” he demanded. “Why are you in my uncle’s seat? Where is Harmach Grigor?”

“The Hulmasters no longer rule in Hulburg,” Marstel said. He sat up straight, and a spark came into his eye. “No longer! Your uncle’s misrule nearly destroyed this realm. The Merchant Council intervened-we had no choice in the matter. Our armsmen moved to restore order, and Grigor Hulmaster opposed our actions. He has been removed from power. As the ranking peer remaining in Hulburg, I have duly assumed the title of harmach.”

“Duly assumed?” Geran repeated. His anger was a hot, white blaze that threatened to sweep him away, and he clenched his fists as he spoke, but he held his temper for the moment. “By what authority do you claim power, Marstel? There is no peerage in Hulburg, no established precedence! You have no right to name yourself harmach. As far as I can tell you are a usurper, plain and simple. Now tell me: what have you done with my family?”

Easy, Geran! Hamil warned. Keep your temper in check. There will be a time for anger and action later. Don’t convince Marstel that he can’t allow you to live.

Marstel’s face darkened, and he half rose from his seat. “I will not be spoken to in such a tone!” he roared.

“He deserves an answer!” Nimessa Sokol said loudly. Ignoring Marstel’s apoplectic fit, she stood and met Geran’s eyes. “Your family is alive, Geran. They’ve taken refuge in Thentia-or so we’ve heard.”

Geran took a deep breath. Nimessa’s loyalties lay with House Sokol, of course, but he couldn’t imagine that she would have had any willing part in unseating his uncle, Grigor. In any other circumstances he would have greatly enjoyed the opportunity to tell her about the destruction of Kraken Queen and the small amount of justice he’d been able to extract against the Black Moon Brotherhood on behalf of her friends and servants killed aboard Whitewing, but that would have to wait. “Tell me, Nimessa. What happened?”

“As Lord Marstel said, the Merchant Council moved to restore order by disarming all militias,” she said. “I argued against it, but the council was resolved; House Sokol had no choice. Harmach Grigor resisted, so the council resolved to recognize Lord Marstel as harmach. The council’s armsmen and the council-sanctioned militias defeated the Shieldsworn and drove them back to Griffonwatch. It seems that Lady Kara found a way to spirit your uncle and the rest of your family out of the keep and get them away from Hulburg.”

“A desperate act on the part of a weak man clinging to power, heedless of the welfare of his realm,” Marstel rumbled. “Had he truly been concerned for Hulburg, Grigor would have abdicated honorably. I intended to see to it that he was comfortably established in any neighboring land. But, since he has not yet done the honorable thing by renouncing his claim, the Hulmasters are banned from all lands and possessions under the harmach’s rule.”

“Banned?” asked Geran. “Hulburg is named after the family Hulmaster, in case you’ve forgotten. Do you mean to tell me that my whole family has been exiled from the realm Hulmasters have ruled for two hundred years?”

Marstel sat back in his stolen throne and smiled to himself. “My edict stands. No Hulmaster is to set foot in Hulburg, on pain of death. Of course, you could not have known this while voyaging abroad, so-despite your rudeness and your hostile manner-I suspend my own edict until you are escorted to the border of the realm. I am not unreasonable, after all.”

The warning of Aesperus becomes clear, Hamil observed. You carried on with your intended course, and Hulburg fell into the hands of the harmach’s enemies. But who is the forgotten foe?

“My lord errs on the side of compassion,” Captain Edelmark said. “Geran Hulmaster is well known as a scofflaw, rabble-rouser, murderer, and worse. Better to deal with him here and now than to let him go free.”

Geran ignored the captain and looked at the other House leaders, their advisors and captains, and saw nothing but guarded expressions and stern frowns. Nimessa Sokol looked down at the ground, unable to meet his eyes. Then his eye fell on a figure he’d overlooked before, a slender man in a long, hooded cassock of dark gray who sat in the place that had once belonged to the Master Mage of the realm. The hood shadowed the man’s face, but a dark suspicion fell over Geran’s heart. He knew everyone else sitting at the council table, even if he did not know them well. But the hooded man he did not know, even though he felt that he should.

As if he sensed the weight of Geran’s gaze, the hooded man reached up with his hands-one made from rune-carved silver instead of living flesh-and drew back his cowl. Geran stepped back with a gasp, sick astonishment momentarily overwhelming him. “Rhovann!” he breathed. “What are you doing here?”

“Me? I am Master Mage of Hulburg, as it so happens,” the moon elf replied. He smiled coldly. “Lastannor the Turmishan decided his services were no longer needed. I have been retained in his place.”

“Indeed.” Sarth studied the sneering wizard, a stern frown on his ruddy face. “Who is this, Geran?”

“Oh, has he not told you of me?” The mage affected mild surprise. “Geran and I have been acquainted for years. We knew each other well in Myth Drannor. I am Rhovann Disarnnyl, of House Disarnnyl.” The false humor in his eyes died, and he held up his silver hand. “Two years ago, your friend Geran gave me this to remember him by. I have given much thought to a suitable gift for him, let me assure you.”

Geran stared at his old rival, barely able to form a thought in his head. Rhovann was here, in the house he’d grown up in, and in payment for the maiming he’d suffered under Geran’s blade and his own exile from Myth Drannor he’d come to Hulburg to visit ruin in return. Rhovann simply smiled and contemptuously turned his back on Geran to address Marstel. “Lord Harmach, please forgive the interruption. As you see, Geran Hulmaster and I are acquainted with each other. You were about to banish him, I believe?”

“Yes, of course,” Marstel rumbled. He rose to his feet and pointed to the door. “Geran Hulmaster, you are hereby banished from the realm of Hulburg. Do not return on pain of death! Captain Edelmark, you will take a detachment of guards and escort this man from the town immediately.”

Edelmark set his hand on his sword hilt and bowed. “At once.” He beckoned to the armsmen in the hall, summoning a dozen soldiers for the task.

Geran stood unmoving for a moment. For an instant he considered drawing his sword and rushing Rhovann, in the hope that by striking down the embittered mage he might put an end to the madness that had taken over Griffonwatch. But even if he succeeded, he’d have all of Marstel’s guards to deal with, plus the mages and captains of the various merchant Houses. He’d die with his blade in hand, and most likely Hamil and Sarth would follow him to the grave. That was the thought that stayed his hand; destroying himself to throw down Hulburg’s enemies was one thing, but his action would doom his friends as well. Rhovann evidently meant to savor the irony of arranging for Geran’s banishment from his homeland, just as Geran had brought about Rhovann’s banishment from Myth Drannor two years past. It was a sore blow indeed. But to rail against his fate, to fight off Edelmark or launch himself blindly against his foes-all he would do is give Rhovann the pleasure of seeing how badly he’d been hurt. Geran took a deep breath and resolved to deny his old enemy the satisfaction.

“I expect the crew and armsmen of Seadrake to be treated well,” he told Marstel. “They have fought bravely for Hulburg. You need not worry about the Black Moon pirates again. I will order my crew to disperse peacefully and acknowledge Lord Marstel’s authority, if you swear before Amaunator that they will be free to come or go as they like.”

Marstel frowned, but nodded. “Agreed,” the old lord said.

Geran looked over to Sarth and Hamil. “Watch over Mirya and Selsha for me,” he said in a low voice. Then he squared his shoulders, turned his back on Marstel, Rhovann, and all the rest of the usurper’s court, and strode off to meet his exile.