Corsair

FOUR

16 Eleint, the Year of the Ageless One (1479 DR)

Two days after the meeting of the Harmach’s Council, Geran spent the morning on the quarterdeck of Seadrake, watching as a crew of carpenters worked to replace the ship’s mainmast. The old mast had been badly cracked in a spring gale months ago, which was one reason why House Veruna’s sellswords had left Seadrake behind when they sailed away from Hulburg. She’d been stripped of stores, canvas, rigging, and other such things, of course, but that could be remedied easily enough. Replacing a mainmast, on the other hand, was a tedious piece of work. Over the last two days the Hulburgan woodworkers had cut away the cracked mast and built a temporary hoist to raise the new mast-a tall, straight spruce cut in the Galena foothills and seasoned for several years in a pond owned by House Marstel. Several dozen workers sweated and swore at each other as they manhandled the long, creaking lines, carefully lowering the new mast into the socket of the old one.

The clatter of wheels on the cobblestones of the street drew Geran’s attention. He glanced down as an open carriage halted by the gangway leading to Seadrake. A pair of armsmen in the black and sky blue of House Sokol hopped down from the running boards as Nimessa Sokol descended from her seat. She looked splendid in a dress of burgundy velvet embroidered with golden flowers. To Geran’s surprise, an undistinguished dwarf with a bald pate and a forked beard of iron gray climbed down from the carriage after her, dressed in common workman’s garb. Nimessa glanced up and caught him watching her. She gave him a warm smile and started up the gangway with her strange companion at her side. Geran dropped down the steps leading to the main deck and went to meet her at the rail.

“I thought I might find you here,” she said. “May we come aboard?”

“Of course, but mind the work on the mast.” Geran drew her past the working party and led her to a safe corner of the deck. “This is an unexpected pleasure. What brings you down to Seadrake?”

“I heard that you’re looking for a sailing master,” said Nimessa. “I think I may have found you one. May I present Master Andurth Galehand? Master Galehand, this is Lord Geran Hulmaster.”

Geran offered his hand forearm-to-forearm in the dwarf manner and studied the fellow. Tattoos of dwarven runes spelled out indecipherable words on the dwarf’s thick forearms, and like most dwarves, he didn’t spare Geran the strength of his grip. “M’lord,” the dwarf said.

“Master Galehand came to House Sokol this morning looking to sign on with us,” Nimessa said. “I thought you might need a sailing master for Seadrake.”

“I do. Are you certain you can spare him?”

The half-elf nodded. “We’ve already struck terms. But his first assignment for House Sokol is to take a post as your sailing master, if you’ll have him. And I’ll send along seasoned deckhands and armsmen, as many as you need to fill out the ship’s company.”

Geran raised an eyebrow. “That’s very generous of House Sokol.”

“No, it’s good common sense. The pirates are a problem, and Sokol ships aren’t safe until they’re defeated.” Nimessa’s eyes flashed. “Besides, I have a personal interest in seeing Kraken Queen dealt with. Anything House Sokol can provide is yours for the asking.”

“I’ve got Erstenwold’s looking after our fittings and provisions, but I can certainly use your sailors and armsmen.” He turned back to the dwarf. “Are you willing to sail under the harmach’s flag, Master Galehand?”

“Aye, I’ve no quarrel with it.” The dwarf looked over to the crew working on the mast and nodded in grudging approval. “Yer carpenters seem t’know what they’re about. Her mast never was quite true afore. She ought t’sail a sight better now.”

“You’ve sailed on Seadrake before?”

The dwarf gave him a fierce grin. “I know this ship like me own beard. I was her sailing master for five years. I’ve been wanting t’see a new mainmast for a long time now.”

“Seadrake was a House Veruna ship. Were you a Veruna man, then?”

“Aye, but we parted ways four years ago. The Double Moon Coster made me a better offer, so I jumped ship. I’ve been with them since, but now I’m needing a new billet.”

“Why’d you leave the Double Moon?” Geran asked.

The dwarf made a sour face. “’Twasn’t me notion. The Double Moon sacked me.”

Geran glanced at Nimessa. She shrugged. He looked back to Galehand and said, “That’s not the sort of thing to inspire confidence.”

“Oh, I’m good enough at me job, Lord Hulmaster. I’ve sailed these waters for nigh on thirty years, half of that as a sailing master. No, the Double Moon decided t’do without me services last month after I called one of the High Guilders a dung-brained dunderhead and knocked him down.”

Geran frowned. The Seadrake was in need of a sailing master, but he wasn’t anxious to saddle himself with a surly officer inclined to argue orders. “I can see you’re a plainspoken dwarf,” he said carefully. “What led you to do that?”

“Ye might recall a wicked set of thunderstorms that blew through early in Flamerule. We were southbound out of Melvaunt, thirty miles from Hillsfar. I came up on deck for me watch and found that instead of turning our stern t’ the squall line and reefing the topsails, the High Guilder had countermanded the captain and told the crew t’ crowd on all canvas and run across the wind. He’d some idea of trying to make Hillsfar before the storm caught up, I guess. The squall line was hard on us by then, and it nearly set us on our beam ends.” Galehand shook his head. “After we set out a sea anchor and reefed in, I told the High Guilder what I thought of ’im. He objected, and that’s when I knocked him down. They paid me off the next day in Hillsfar.”

“You’re lucky the ship’s captain didn’t throw you in irons for striking one of the owners.”

Galehand snorted. “Well, I think the captain would’ve liked t’ hit the High Guilder too, truth be told.”

Geran laughed. He didn’t know a thing about Andurth Galehand, but the fellow had no fear of speaking his mind, and if he was telling the truth, then it wasn’t any lack of competence that had brought him to grief. “All right, Master Galehand. You’re my sailing master; I’ll have the papers drawn up. Your first job will be to see to the rigging and the sail locker. I mean to sail by the end of the tenday, and I’ll judge you by how quickly and how well you make Seadrake ready for sea.”

“Fair enough, Lord Hulmaster. If you can spare me for an hour, I’ll fetch me kit and come back straightaway.”

“Very good, Master Galehand.”

The tattooed dwarf made his way back down the gangplank.

Geran watched him depart then glanced up at the sky; it was a little before noon, a fine, clear fall day with a light wind out of the west. “You didn’t have to bring him down here yourself, you know,” he said to Nimessa. “A word of introduction from you would’ve been fine.”

“I suppose I’m still looking for a way to thank you for my life.” Nimessa gave him a shy smile then turned to run a hand over the gleaming wood of the ship’s rail. “You seem to be a man of many parts. Swordsman, wizard, and now sea captain too.”

“I’ve studied a few sword spells, I suppose, but that’s all the wizardry I know. As far as sailing, well … before I came home this summer, I spent a year and a half with the Red Sail Coster of Tantras, voyaging all over the Sea of Fallen Stars.” He laid his hand on Seadrake’s rail next to hers and imagined that he felt the ship growing restless under his palm, like a good horse that was eager to run. Nimessa waited for him to continue, a small smile playing across her face. He found himself speaking again before he knew what he was saying. “I’ve always longed to see new shores. I’m not made to stand still for long, I think.”

“What drives you on?”

“It’s certainly not any concern for Red Sail business.” Hamil Alderheart emerged from the passage leading under the quarterdeck to the officers’ cabins. The halfling wore a fine green doublet over a buff-colored shirt, with a matching cap to cover his long russet braids; for as long as Geran had known him, Hamil had prided himself on his elegant clothing. “Geran’s not much of a merchant. I did all the work, keeping the books and managing the buying and selling. He was really nothing more than a glorifed wagon driver. What brings you aboard Seadrake, my lady?”

“Nimessa, this is my old comrade Hamil Alderheart. We adventured together in the Company of the Dragon Shield years ago and bought owners’ shares in the Red Sail Coster afterward,” said Geran. He’d only stayed a short time before his wanderlust led him to Myth Drannor, but Hamil had allowed him to buy back into the coster without a word of complaint when Geran returned to Tantras after his years in the coronal’s service. “Hamil, this is Nimessa Sokol, of House Sokol. She’s come to Hulburg to take over the Sokol concession here.”

Hamil swept off his cap and bowed low before lifting Nimessa’s fingers to his lips. “I am charmed, my lady,” he said. “I see now why Geran took on a fleet of pirates for your honor. I would leap into a dragon’s gullet for one as beautiful as you!”

Geran looked down to hide a smile. Hamil had never met a beautiful woman he could resist flattering, whether she stood a foot and a half taller than he or not. For her part, Nimessa laughed and blushed. “I thank you for the thought, Master Alderheart, but let’s hope that never becomes necessary!”

I’m pleased to see you’ve rediscovered your eye for beauty, Hamil told Geran silently. He was a halfling of the ghostwise folk, and his people had the ability to speak without sound when they wanted to. If you won’t court this one, I will myself!

Geran ignored his friend’s silent comments. “Nimessa found a sailing master for us,” he told Hamil. “A dwarf by the name of Andurth Galehand. He was sailing master of Seadrake for years.”

“Good,” said Hamil. “But I’m surprised you’d take on a Veruna man. Or dwarf.”

“It was five years ago, and he seems to know Seadrake. Besides, he’s a dwarf, not a Mulmasterite. The Verunas don’t keep other folk in their confidences.” Andurth was likely paid well, but he would have been given little authority or scope for action in pursuing the company’s interests. That was one of House Veruna’s weaknesses; they treated their hired hands like not-quite-trusted servants and kept the best coin and real authority for Mulmasterites with blood ties to the family.

“We still need a half-dozen sailors and a few more armsmen,” the halfling said. “And we could use a pilot.”

“House Sokol will see to your deckhands,” Nimessa told Hamil. “I’m certain I can find a few skilled armsmen for you too.”

“Don’t worry about a pilot,” Geran said. “It’s been a few years, but I know the Moonsea well enough, and it seems our sailing master does too. I’ll handle the navigation.”

“If you get lost or run us up on a reef, I’ll remind you that you said that,” Hamil replied. “Oh, and one more thing: Initiate Mother Mara sent word that she’s directed a young friar named Larken to sign on as the ship’s curate. He’s supposed to be here tomorrow.”

“That’s almost everyone, then,” Geran said. “I’m impressed, Hamil. I never would have imagined that you could gather a crew that quickly.”

The halfling shrugged. “It wasn’t my doing, Geran. When word got out that you’d be fitting out, people started lining up to sign on with you.”

“How many will you sail with?” Nimessa asked.

“Well, Seadrake needs about twenty seamen to handle her comfortably,” Geran answered. “But we also need a large number of armsmen to deal with the pirates we hope to catch, so we’ll have well over a hundred, counting the Shieldsworn and merchant House mercenaries.”

“Is that enough to deal with Kraken Queen?”

Geran allowed himself a predatory grin. “Oh, yes. If I can find her, I can finish her. It’s just a matter of tracking her down.”

“Good hunting, then.” Nimessa stepped close and brushed her lips to Geran’s cheek. “I must be going. I still have much to put in order in our tradeyard.” Then she drew back, nodded to Hamil, and made her way back down the gangway to her waiting armsmen and carriage. The driver tapped his reins, and the carriage rolled away.

Geran gazed after the coach. Absently he lifted his hand to his cheek.

“I think that young woman is fond of you,” Hamil remarked. “I suppose it’s understandable. You have an unfair advantage, since you gallantly saved her from a fate worse than death. Damn the luck!”

The swordmage shook his head. “I don’t know. Even if you’re right, well, how many times can I rescue her from pirates?”

Hamil rolled his eyes. “Trust me, Geran. It’s a good start.”

Geran tried to put Nimessa Sokol out of his mind. He looked over at the carpenters engaged with the work on the mainmast. The stepping of the mast was almost finished, but it would take hours to rig the stays, the braces, and the heavy tackle for the sails. “There isn’t much more we can do here. I need to check on the provisioning order at Erstenwold’s.”

“A fine suggestion,” Hamil said. They paused to speak with Worthel, the ship’s first mate-a wiry Red Sail shipmaster of middle years from Tantras, one of a dozen Red Sails who’d volunteered to sail under the harmach’s banner. After advising him to keep an eye open for Galehand, Geran and Hamil left him to oversee the rest of the mast repairs and headed down the gangplank to the crowded wharves of Hulburg.

Compared to some of the other cities on the Moonsea, Hulburg was small and rustic. Laborers from a variety of foreign lands almost outnumbered the native Hulburgans. As they walked north up Plank Street, Geran and Hamil passed dwarves in their heavy boots and iron hauberks, Melvauntians and Thentians in the doublets and squared caps that were the fashion in those cities, and all sorts of clerks and scribes and armsmen in the colors of the various merchant companies who had concessions in Hulburg. In the ten years Geran had been away in the southern lands, Hulburg had filled up and overflowed. Even after five months he was still getting used to the sights and sounds of this bustling, broad-shouldered trade-town that had mysteriously replaced the sleepy little town of his youth.

They passed several groups of foreign laborers standing around on corners or waiting by storefronts-waiting for work, or so Geran guessed. People came to Hulburg from all over the Moonsea to seek their fortunes, since the timber camps and mines of the foothills offered a chance to earn a wage. They were poor, desperate men, gaunt and hollow-eyed, with tattered cloaks and threadbare clothing. Some had spent their whole lives drifting from one city to another, wandering Faerun in search of some place to call home.

When they crossed Cart Street, Geran noticed a commotion to his right. A band of a dozen dirty men in ragged cloaks marched down the center of the street, pushing other passersby aside. Most carried cudgels or short staves, with knives or short swords thrust through their belts. Their left hands were wrapped in gray strips of cloth with a broad, sooty smear across the back of the hand. Townsfolk muttered and glared at them as they shoved through the crowds, but the ruffians paid them no mind.

Geran tapped Hamil’s shoulder to get his attention. “Cinderfists,” he said in low voice. “I don’t think I’ve seen them in the mercantile district before. What are they doing here?”

“Looking for trouble, as far as I can tell,” Hamil answered. He looked around. “Just as well there aren’t any Moonshields nearby. I think we’d have front-row seats for a riot.”

The two paused and watched the gang members pass. Most of the other people in the street hurried on by, avoiding the eyes of the Cinderfists and steering well clear of their path. Geran stood his ground, which earned him a few hostile glares from the ruffians. But he and Hamil were both well armed, and their clothes marked them as men of high station; the Cinderfists either knew who Geran was, or weren’t quite so bold as to accost gentlemen in the middle of Hulburg’s trade district. Geran met the eyes of one Cinderfist, a tall, lank-haired fellow with bad teeth and a sallow cast. The man snorted as if amused by Geran’s attention and muttered something to his comrades as he sauntered past. Several snickered.

I don’t like the look of the tall one, Hamil said silently. I’ve got half a mind to teach him some manners.

“Leave him be for now,” Geran answered. “They’re not breaking any law of the harmach’s-not yet, at least.”

A technicality, Hamil answered. But he smiled pleasantly at the ruffians and allowed them to continue on their way. The gray-cloaked men wandered on down Cart Street, leaving the two companions behind.

“You’d think a dozen fellows like that ought to have some trade to practice in the middle of the day,” Geran said.

Hamil nodded. “The Verunas employed hundreds. When the House pulled out of Hulburg, they just left their woodcutters and miners and drivers and the rest to fend for themselves. No wonder some of them have fallen in with the Cinderfist gang.”

“What choice did the harmach have? He couldn’t let House Veruna stay after they helped Sergen in the attempt to unseat him.”

“No, he couldn’t,” Hamil admitted. “Your uncle did what Darsi Veruna forced him to do. But until some more trade costers or merchant Houses take over Veruna camps, those Cinderfists won’t have anything to do other than stand around on street corners and trouble passersby.”

“That isn’t so easy as it seems. Nimessa told me that House Veruna threatened retaliation against any other Moonsea companies that buy up their former rights.” Geran fell silent, thinking over the Cinderfist situation. His friend was right about the unintended consequences of House Veruna’s exile, but there was more to it than that. He’d also heard stories of Cinderfists threatening or beating other foreigners in search of work, pushing them to either join their movement or leave Hulburg and search for prospects elsewhere. A thought struck him, and he looked down at Hamil. “Have the Verunas threatened the Red Sails anywhere?”

“Us?” Hamil shook his head. “No, I would’ve told you if I’d heard anything like that. You’re a stakeholder, after all. But if you want my guess, I’d say that the Verunas have already assumed we’re no friends of theirs.”

“True enough.” Geran clapped Hamil on the shoulder. They walked on another half block and came to the sign for Erstenwold’s Provisioners, which hung above a large, somewhat ramshackle old wooden building. Several clerks and customers counted, haggled, or carried goods in and out of the store. Business had been good for the Erstenwold store in the months since House Veruna’s banishment from Hulmaster. No one was extorting native Hulburgan establishments anymore; the wary truce between the large foreign merchant companies and native Hulburgan establishments was holding. Only now there was the Cinderfist situation to complicate matters, Geran reminded himself.

Geran and Hamil took the steps up to the old wooden porch and pushed their way into the store proper. A long wooden counter ran the length of the room on the right side, with a familiar clutter of stocked shelves and various pieces of tack and harness hanging on the walls. The uneven floorboards were worn to a glossy polish by decades of foot traffic, and dust motes drifted in the sunlight slanting through the windows. Geran had always liked the place; the old wood, the fresh leather, and the pipeleaf all blended into a rich, comfortable aroma. “Mirya?” he called.

A tall, dark-haired woman with her hair tied back in a long braid looked up from her ledger-keeping at a small standing desk behind the counter. She wore a plain dress of blue wool and a stern expression on her face, but she smiled when she caught sight of them. She closed her ledger and came over to the coun-tertop. “Here to see to your order? It’s not even been two days, you know.”

“The carpenters were about ready to throw Geran overboard,” Hamil answered. “We thought it might be best to let them oversee themselves for an hour or two.”

“So you decided to trouble me instead?” Mirya snorted. “Well, you’ll be glad to hear that I’ve almost all of your ship’s goods laid aside in the storehouse. Provisions, canvas, plenty of line, bedding, lumber, casks of ale, spars, hand tools, oakum, pitch-here, come around the counter, and I’ll show you.”

Geran and Hamil stepped around the long counter and followed Mirya into the storehouse that adjoined her shop. Large doors stood open to the street outside, allowing the afternoon light to stream in. Barrels and wooden crates lay stacked up in orderly rows on the dusty old floorboards. “I fear the harmach’s to pay dearly for all of this,” Mirya said. “To fill Seadrake’s hold in the time you gave me I had to pay half again what I should have. It was no help that all of Hulburg knew that I had to have your provisions as soon as they could be found.”

“My uncle knows you wouldn’t cheat him,” Geran said. He paced down one of the aisles, glancing over the assembled material. It filled a substantial part of the Erstenwold storehouse, and Mirya’s clerks were wheeling in more tubs and barrels as he watched. It seemed hard to believe that it would all fit below the decks of the ship down by the old Veruna docks, but he knew from experience that ships could carry a lot more than one might expect. “I’m amazed you found this much in Hulburg in just the last two days. Is there anything important you couldn’t find?”

“I’ve only half the canvas here that you should carry,” Mirya said. “I’ve sent word to provisioners in Thentia and Mulmaster-quietly, of course-to see if I can get my hands on more, but I doubt I’ll have it before you mean to set out. You’ll want to be careful of your sails.”

“I hope your new sailing master knows his business,” Hamil said.

Geran nodded. “The winter storms are still two months off. With good fortune, we won’t see any bad gales until after we’ve had a chance to fill the sail locker.” He looked over to Mirya. “I’ll have my crew send up a working party first thing in the morning. We’ll have most of this cleared out of your storehouse by suppertime tomorrow.”

“We’ll be ready.” Mirya looked over the provisions and shook her head a little. “Strange to do business with you, Geran. All the years I’ve known you, and I have never thought of you as the sort of man who’d take an interest in it. You always seemed to be cut from a different sort of cloth.”

“The indolent nobility? The brooding romantic?” Hamil asked. “I certainly don’t trust him with anything important for the Red Sails.”

Geran laughed. It was true enough. “My thanks, Hamil.”

“I didn’t mean I thought him too lazy for it,” Mirya said. “Too impatient, perhaps. Too anxious to be off to the next thing, whatever that happened to be. He used to be a hard one to keep anchored for long.”

“Four years in Myth Drannor taught me a few things,” Geran said. He glanced down at the rose-shaped pommel and mithral wire of the sword hilt at his belt. He’d won it in the service of the coronal. Somehow he doubted that many of Ilsevele Miritar’s armathors had spent much time in storehouses such as Ersten-wold’s. “I suppose I’m not the man I used to be.”

“No, you’re not. You’re a better man.” Mirya gave him a lopsided smile. “Selsha and I mean to see you off when you set sail. Take care of yourself while you’re chasing after pirates, Geran Hulmaster. I’m becoming used to having you around again.”

“I will,” he promised her.