Horseclans' Odyssey

14

Count Martuhn had been performing one of his periodic inspections of the magazines wherein were kept the garrison’s food and supply stores when Wolf’s messenger found him. As the citadel had been victualed and supplied for the needs of two thousand men—and Martuhn’s command had never numbered more than fifteen hundred, including noncombatants—for a year-long siege, he figured that it would be months still before there was any dearth to consider. But he still checked the magazines every ten days on general principles: it kept the quartermaster sergeant and his staff on their toes. The pikeman Wolf had sent found the count still chewing a chunk of the pickled pork from a cask he had had sprung at random.

“My lord, Sir Wolf bids me report that a barge is starting across the river on the south cable. It soon will be within range of the engines, and he asks if he should sink it.”

“Only the single barge, soldier?” Martuhn asked around the pork.

“Yes, my lord, only one. And it one of the smaller ones.” “Wait, I’ll return with you, soldier.” Martuhn turned to the quartermaster sergeant, “Aye, Les, that’s good old-fashioned campaign pork. Have your lads reseal it and bear it up to my tower. I often want something solid to chew on in the night.”

By the time Martuhn stood beside Wolf, the small barge was well out into the river and, for all the efforts of the unseen men pulling the heavy oars in steady, even strokes, was making very slow progress and straining against the thick cable high above. It was now within easy range of the wail engines, and Wolfs shift of engineers were all standing ready at the stone hurlers and spear throwers, awaiting but the word of command to release the triggers of their deadly devices.

Martuhn used one hand to shade his eyes against the bright noon sun. He spied the reflections of sunlight on a bit of polished steel, but could discern little at that distance through the glare.

“What do you make of it, Martuhn?” Wolf mindspoke.

The count shrugged and beamed. “No reinforcements for Duke Tcharlz, certainly. Even if the men on the benches below were soldiers too—which I tend to doubt, for the tempo is too strong and regular to be aught but trained slaves—still they could not get more than a bare hundred men on that cockleshell. Could be a messenger from old Alex, so leave it be, let them land: that man brings trouble if not doom to everything and everyone he touches. His grace has surely seen the barge, too, or his men have, so don’t fire on any party he sends down to the dock.”

As the greeting party and the westerners rode past the citadel, it could be seen that one of them was Duke Alex himself, accompanied by a bare handful of his gentry and noblemen.

“Now just what,” mused Martuhn to himself, “is that feckless bastard up to now?” His answer was not long in coming… in the person of Duke Tcharlz, who approached the outer works the next morning, just after it had become light enough to recognize men’s faces at a distance.

The duke rode almost to the verge of the moat, opposite the main gate, in the middle of the south wall. He looked up at the works just above that gate for a moment, then roared, “Martuhn! Are you up there, lad? Let me in, we must talk.” Martuhn was: so too were Wolf and Nahseer.

Wolf muttered, “What the hell is that sly old fox up to now, milord count?” “I have no idea, Sir Wolf,” Martuhn replied. “But he’s alone and unarmored and…” He peered harder. “I don’t think he even has his sword on. Scant harm he could do.”

To the soldiers inside the tower that housed the machinery controlling gate, portcullis and drawbridge, he snapped, “Lower away, soldiers, and raise the grille, but don’t raise the bar until Sir Wolf says to. “Wolf, wait until he’s at least halfway across the bridge, then, if no assault party has come into view, open the right valve only, and close it the minute he’s through it. Hear?”

Martuhn and Tcharlz met in the grim, spartan little ground-floor office, and the older man came directly to the point. “Martuhn, son, I need your help.” “Your grace needs my help?” Martuhn sounded his incredulity, but his voice quickly acquired an undertone of cynicism. “The siege is become too expensive to maintain, your grace? I fear I’ve very little to lend, but…” The old duke seated himself without invitation. “Martuhn, my boy, I don’t blame you a bit, but you of all people know just how murderously violent I become when I’m thwarted. It’s not a thing I enjoy admitting, for it’s a serious weakness in my character, but, hell, man, I can’t help or control myself. “Have you got a few quarts of beer left? I’ve been up all night with Alex and my staff—talking, talking, talking, all of us, when we weren’t scheming and planning and weighing possibilities—and I’m dry as a salt fish.” While a pikeman went to fetch beer, the tall captain planted the sole of a booted foot on his desktop and, leaning over, snapped, “All right, your grace, what do you want from me? It is, you will admit, most singular for the commander of the investing force to come to ask the help of the very man he’s besieging. But I suppose you have your reasons and I also suppose they mean something… at least, to you.”

The duke shook his head. “Not just to me, my boy, but to you and to Alex and to every man, woman and child in both duchies, these two threatened duchies.

“But, you were speaking of investments and sieges; well,

,there is no longer a siege. My men are packing their gear and breaking camp at this very minute. There never should’ve been a siege to begin with, Martuhn, I can see that now, though I couldn’t then, of course. “You are my chosen son, the best of the best, my heir presumptive, the strong right arm of an old and very tired man, and I should’ve remembered that before I tried to bend you to my will against your own. What matters it what some alien merchant wants or does not want, really, eh? I am the real law, not that doddering, maundering old fool Lapkin.

“And I say that the boys are yours, Martuhn, now and forever. I beg you, my son, please forget or at least forgive my harsh words and harsher actions against you and them. Ill not reinstate you in your rank and lands and title, for to my mind, you never were disenfranchised, all right?” And what, your grace, am I expected to do in return for all the largess of My Lord Sir Tcharlz, Duke of the East Bank?” asked Martuhn in tones of mock humility.

“Why, simply resume your rank of senior captain of all my infantry, Martuhn, my dear boy. Leave only enough of them here to maintain civil order and ferry the bulk of them over to Traderstown, then assume command of the town and all the troops therein.”

Martuhn strove not to show his surprise and total bafflement at the request. “And what h Duke Alex going to think when one of your officers takes over his capital? Or has your grace managed to cozen him out of his duchy?” The duke chuckled. “Not quite that much, Martuhn… not yet, anyway, though that too may well come in time. No, Alex is in complete accord that you—a man, I might add,. whom he deeply respects, despite and likely because of the drubbing you gave him last fall—take command of the city and hold it against the Horseclans nomads while he and I with our cavalry try to get those Satan-spawn into a real battle on open ground, whereon our heavy horse can fight to best advantage.

“As soon as heavy barges can be brought across and loaded, Count Bart is taking over all my lancers and dragoons. I’ll be following with the heavy horse as soon as I’ve handled some of the more pressing affairs at Pirates’ Folly. I’ll be at my castle ten days, at most; that should give you time to marshal the footmen hereabouts, assign temporary duties within this duchy to ones you consider least effective for combat, and ready the rest to embark immediately my horse is landed over yonder.

“But, Martuhn, I cannot allow you to take those boys over the river. Now, hold, hold! I have a very good reason for it, and please believe me, my son, there are no hidden reasons, only the one, open one.

“Martuhn, those boys are nomads’, Horseclan nomads, and those people hang together more firmly than ticks on a hound. You know the boys and love them and respect them and trust them. I do not trust them and I’ll not have them placed in a position from which they might do our arms considerable damage, were they to find themselves torn between old loyalties and new. “Leave them here, Martuhn, in this fortress, and if you’re still worried that I may be acting in bad faith, leave Wolf or Nahseer to guard them. I’m no mean swordsman myself, but I’d think twice before I drew steel to go against either of those two.”

Arrived back at Pirates’ Folly, Tcharlz threw himself into a whirl of activities. Ensconced in his private office, he kept messengers scurrying in and out, while five or six scribes hunched over their portable tables, trying hard to keep up with his staccato dictations of messages, and the chief scribe sat at another table with a goodly supply of melted sealing wax, ribbons and the weighty ducal seal.

Noblemen, gentry officers and their retainers only just sent home upon Duke Alex’s precipitate cessation of hostilities and withdrawal to his own, now hotly embattled lands needs must be recalled with haste; supplies and transport must be arranged for; small, speedy ships must be dispatched up both rivers to try to seek out unemployed mercenaries (if, with a civil war in Mehmfiz and another war building up between the traditional rivals, Ehvinzburk and Tehrawt, there were any to be found, at any price).

He knew that he also must find time to arrange a meeting with the council of merchants and the council of shipowners. For to pay whatever mercenaries his agents might scrape up, he would have to float a loan on next year’s taxes, and he well knew that those two packs of skinflints were the only ones who could quickly raise the sum he had in mind. But he did not relish the thought of asking the rich, supercilious commoner-bastards and arrogant foreigners for anything; he had avoided doing so in the campaigns against Mehmfiz and Traderstown, but this new calamity found a treasury virtually drained of fluid resources.

Such was Tcharlz’s dislike of what he knew he must do that he briefly flirted with the idea—actually, it was his prerogative to do so, if in his opinion (and who else’s?) the good of the duchy required so radical a step being taken—of marching into Pahdookahport with all the armed men he could quickly gather and seizing the members of the two councils. Then he could either squeeze the monies out of them with threats of torture, mutilation and death, or hold them for ransom to be scraped up by their peers.

But that would be killing the goose, he reflected; the last river lord who had tried that stratagem had gotten every ounce of gold that he needed for that particular project, but while he was otherwise engaged, the merchants and shipowners had loaded their families and portable possessions onto their ships and set sail for healthier ports. Some of his Pahdookahport shippers and merchants were, in fact, a portion of that very exodus. If he could only lay hands to as little as a hundred pounds of gold… But the duchy was bled white, legally, and this distasteful business seemed the only way.

The merchants’ council was the first group to come to the castle, and, although their rates were as steep as he had known that they would be, they Seemed to know just how far they could push him and did not venture beyond that point; and, save one, all were in favor of extending the duke the sizable loan. The one dissenter was Urbahnos, the self-styled “Lord,” though the man held no title that any ruler along the Ohyoh River would recognize and honor. The duke wondered if it was his imagination working upon the open secret of the Ehleen’s terrible mutilation that made him think to hear a higher tone to the unfortunate man’s voice.

“Your grace is quick to come to us when he needs assistance—and very expensive assistance at that—but when is he willing to assist us, eh?” Old Gaib Fai, senior of the council in age, wealth and standing, spoke in his usual whining voice, constantly rubbing together hands that looked as fleshless as the feet of a bird. “Urbahnos, yer outa place to tawk to the duke lak thet. Duke Tcharlz, he’s allus bin a good’un, not oncet has he evun thawt “bout doing suthin’ to his honest, law-’biding merchants and factors and shippers, lak a puling pocket-king I kin recawl done to me and sum others, oncet.” Urbahnos’ lips twisted in a mirthless smile. ‘I’d lay long odds, old man, that Duke Tcharlz has, indeed, thought about doing that very thing… and more than once; but he knows better than to commit Such a folly.

“No, the only nomads who interest me are my two dear little adopted sons, illegally held for many long months by the infamous Count Martuhn at the citadel in Twocityport Baron Lapkin himself pled my case before your grace many weeks past, and your grace at that time did promise the return of my two sweet sons—although your grace refused to force this ducal officer to pay blood price for my two valued and loyal retainers slain by this officer’s troops; nor would your grace even make the effort to bring to justice my escaped slave, Nahseer—a ruthless, sadistic and highly dangerous man, who injured and robbed me before escaping.

“As for those nomads across the river, I have no fear of them for I am leaving Pahdookahport immediately your grace makes good his sworn word and returns to my loving arms my two small sons, Bahb and Djoh. My house is sold, and my animals, slaves and bulkier effects, but I refuse to be a party to this loan, not to a single bent copper of it. Do you all hear? This trouble is not my affair and I’ll not be involved in it” Tcharlz inwardly squirmed for a few moments, then the perfect solution to the problem occurred to him. “Master Urbahnos, I have expended time and resources in attempting to obtain those boys for you, as I promised you I would; I still would be so engaged, had not this nomad threat arisen, so do not try to throw the lie in my teeth, Ehleen.

“Count Martuhn is a very stubborn man—every bit as stubborn as am I—and it is his desire to adopt those boys himself, nor does he trust you. He thinks that your plan is to get the boys out of my sphere of influence and then sell them as slaves. Do you have this intent, Master Urbahnos?” Dark blood suffused the Ehleen’s features and his black eyes blazed with what appeared to be anger. “Of course not, your grace! The concept is outrageous, ridiculous. I… I…” “If you’ll hold your temper and your tongue for a few moments, Master Urbahnos,” Tcharlz admonished, “I’ll tell you and these other men—in strictest confidence, understand; if one word of it comes back to me from whatever source, my operatives will surely trace it back and excise the loose, flapping tongue—of how you may lay hands on the nomad boys.

“In all legal matters, masters, possession is now and has always been nine-tenths of the law, which is why I had to resort to using diplomacy against Count Martuhn. But if you, Master Urbahnos, were in possession of the boys and a-ship for points east… d”you get my drift?”

“I should just ride a coach into that citadel, I suppose, big as brass, and say, ‘Lord count, I have come for my sons.’ Is that it, your grace? Fagh, the man would let that savage, Nahseer, kill me… if he did not do it himself!” Urbahnos answered hotly.

Tcharlz shook his head patiently. “Within ten days—less than that, I hope—both I and Count Martuhn will be on the other side of the river and neither of us will be able to return quickly; the boys will be alone in the citadel with a bare handful of guards, if that. Hire you some tough men, ride to Twocityport and retake what is legally yours, man. That’s what I’d do, in your boots.” The next day, as he was on his way to his conference with the council of shipowners, a few of whom were also on the council of merchants, he was approached by one of his host of bastards, Sir Huhmfree Gawlin, and three other gentlemen.

“Huhmfree, lad!” Grinning, he clasped the young man’s hand in his own big paw and clapped him on the back affectionately. “Have you, then, raised your lances so soon? Now, here’s an obedient subject for you, gentlemen—never one to dawdle when his duty calls.”

“Your grace,” said Huhmfree, “my force and I shall be in the appointed place at the appointed hour. However, these gentlemen and I, we have a matter most urgent which we must discuss with your grace… in private, if it be your pleasure.” The duke frowned, then shook his head vehemently. “However important or urgent, Huhmfree, it will just have to wait until I’ve driven off those damned Horseclanners, over the river yonder. At this very moment, in fact, I’m due to grovel before a pack of commoner swine for a few pounds of gold to buy me troops and horses and supplies.”

“Your grace… Tcharlee?” The eldest of the group of gentlemen, a venerable, white-haired and -bearded figure with the still-erect bearing, the movements and the stance of an old soldier, stepped from the knot and extended a veined and bony hand to touch the duke’s arm.

His every feature radiating true and unabashed pleasure, the duke half turned to embrace the ancient warmly. “My steel, but it’s good to clap my eyes on you again, Uncle Peetu. You frequent my court far too seldom, in recent years, and I find myself often yearning for the sight of you, for the sound of your voice.” “You know why I am so infrequently in public, Tchariee… ah, your grace,” answered the old man softly, his faded-blue eyes misting slightly. Tcharlz nodded once, stiffly; his lips became a thin line. “And you know that I, that we all, grieve with you, uncle, though perhaps not so broodingly as you. Were you ever able to determine just what happened, what was the exact fate of your granddaughter?”

The aged man nodded his grim-faced head, his eyes hard and frosty as arctic ice. “I but recently learned, thanks to Sir Huhmfree’s invaluable assistance, who bore sweet Mahrtha away, to where and at what powerful man’s order, and I learned how and by whose hand she was murdered. I come to you seeking justice, Tchariee, although were I a younger man or were my sons still living, I’d handle the matter myself.”

The duke pursed his lips. “Is this the matter of great urgency of which Huhmfree spoke, uncle?”

“A part of it, Tchariee,” replied the old man.

“Well, then, I’ll just have to make the time,” stated the duke baldly. Turning to his chamberlain, he ordered, “Sir Rahdjuh, have a keg of the dark beer and a few decanters of brandy—my private stock, mind you, man—taken to the shipowners and make your apology that I keep them waiting. Don’t go into any details with them… affairs of state, et cetera; you know it all, man, you’ve alibied me often enough.”

“But, your grace…” the chamberlain began, until a curt gesture of the duke’s hand cut him off.

“Not a word. Sir Rahdjuh! I feel the press of time as keenly as do you, but here’s a man I cannot deny. Before you were born, was Sir Peetuh Bohwlz risking his life and truly beggaring himself to help me consolidate lands and power. His five brave sons died while fighting under my banner, and his daughter’s husband suffered such grievous wounds that he has not walked again in thirty years. “But never has Sir Peetuh been willing to accept a single acre or one ounce of silver from me in return for all his and his house’s sacrifices. Now he comes asking an hour or so of my time. How can I refuse him, Sir Rahdjuh?”

“But, your grace…”

“I said, not one word. Sir Rahdjuh. I have given you a task to perform elsewhere. Do your duty, sirrah!”

The chamberlain knew better than to argue with his master when his voice acquired such a tone.

As soon as most of the foot soldiers had been called up and assembled in and around Twocityport, Martuhn scraped together enough mounts, of a sort, to place almost a hundred of his own mercenary infantry in saddles and sent them into the countryside by squads, each in command of a veteran officer or sergeant or, at least, a corporal. Their task to flush out any sound, sturdy beggars or vagabonds and bring them back for impressment into the ranks, to recruit among the uncommitted farmers and villagers and to chivvy along supplies due but not yet delivered to the marshaling point Because the heavy horse was to embark first, Martuhn kept his infantry units camped at a short distance from the city, leaving the closer campgrounds vacant for the imminent arrival of the cavalry, the only exceptions being his own company, the garrison archers and crossbowmen and the citadel engineers, whom he suffered to remain in the citadel.

Tirelessly, he threw himself and his staff into the tasks of organizing the minutiae of the call-up and movement of above ten thousand warm bodies; inspecting weapons and equipment and repairing or replacing, where necessary; sending home any who chanced to be seriously ill or diseased, especially if their ills were of a contagious nature; ruling upon the pleas for exemption, and these were many for many of these men were but bare weeks returned home from the last campaign when summoned again; receiving and inspecting supply shipments, then apportioning them, marking them for the various units and for their shipping times.

Whenever he was not in the citadel courtyard, which was now become a supply dump, or in one or another of the far-flung camps, he could be found on the cable docks, attending to the embarkment of supplies, remounts and replacements for the lancers and dragoons of Duke Tcharlz’s force already engaged against the nomads… and suffering as badly as had the men of Duke Alex, if the steady stream of casualties said anything. Nor was this intelligence unknown or unnoticed by the marshaled troops; desertions or attempted desertions rose afresh with each arrival of a bargeload of maimed, mutilated and demoralized lancers and dragoons from the fierce fighting on the west bank.

All that Martuhn could do was to order larger and stronger camp-security details posted on a twenty-four-hour basis and to supplement them with roving patrols of mule-mounted men from his own company of professionals. That, and hope that Duke Tcharlz and his heavy horse arrived on time or, best of all, ahead of schedule, that he might the quicker embark his foot The “hour” was now approaching three hours, since Tcharlz had closeted himself with Sir Peetuh, Sir Huhmfree and the other gentlemen of their entourage. He had pored over the entire “testimony” of the madam, Yohahna, twice and then reread portions’ a third time. The chamberlain had intruded three times; he was ordered out twice, and the third time Tcharlz had thrown his belt dagger at him. Finally, he slumped back in his chair. “Uncle, Huhmfree, gentlemen, had you or anyone else lodged such charges against some of these men, unsupported, I’d have adjudged you madmen. But how to discount such lengthy and detailed testimony… ?” “I am only sorry that there is no way I can be around to see these malefactors’ dragged here to Pirates’ Folly and fitted with fetters and lodged on the lower levels to contemplate until they can be brought to trial. The witness, this female monster, she still lives?”

Sir Huhmfree answered, “Oh, yes, your grace, we… I… have taken exceeding care in her regard. Those nursing and guarding her are all my good and unceasingly faithful folk.”

“Beware she doesn’t bribe them, boy,” growled Tcharlz. “After all in which she and these other scoundrels have been involved over the years—-and not one single cent of taxes paid to me out of their nefarious enterprises, I’ll wager you!—she must be richer than Duke Alex, over yonder.”

Sir Huhmfree smiled like a cat with a mouse between his paws. “She already tried that, your grace, and the folk she would’ve bribed came directly to me. I bade them behave with her as if she’d bought them, but to demand at least a part of the bribe in advance. They did my bidding, and thus I was able to get my hands’ on her hidden store of gold… all of it. And that, your grace, is how I have, this day, delivered to Sir Shawn Bailee, your treasurer, two hundred and six pounds of pure gold, about half in the form of various coin, the rest in two-, three- or five-pound sandmold bars.” At this, Duke Tchariz beamed beatifically on his bastard, Sir Peetuh and the others. “Sir Rahdjuht” he roared. “I know damned well you’re out there. To me, immediately!”

When the chamberlain had edged warily into the room (he knew that the duke did not have another dagger, but all five of these knights had at least one), Tchariz, appearing to be in a rare good humor, told him, “Chase those parsimonious, beer- and brandy-swilling swine of shipowners out of the castle. We no longer need them or their lousy monies.

“Wait, before you do that, send me my chief scribe; tell him to bring two more scribes, wax, ribbons and the seal. I’ll be issuing some arrest warrants’ for immediate service, so have Baron Hahrvee Sheeld stand by, and alert Master Kahks, down belowstairs, that we’ll need a good dozen of his lowest, dankest, slimiest cells, plus that many sets of the heaviest fetters to be fitted and riveted.”

The chamberlain nodded, rapidly making notes as the orders were given. Then he looked up and asked, “Your grace, if you will be issuing warrants, perhaps Baron Lapkin might be of an assistance? He has just ridden up from Pahdookahport and now waits in the anteroom of your audience chamber.” At his words, the chamberlain was deeply shocked to hear a Snarled string of foul curses and epithets issue from the aged lips of Sir Peetuh Bohwlz, from whom he never could recall having heard a single harsh or off-color word. Softly, but firmly, Tchariz said, “Hold your place, and your temper, just a bit longer, Uncle Peetuh. You’ll have every last gram of your vengeance soon enough. But this is a duchy of law and things must be done legally. “Sir Rahdjuh, courteously request that the learned and most honorable Baron Lapkin join us… oh, and I’ll have six of my foot guards outside the door to this chamber, at once.”

Baron Sir Yzik Lapkin, ducal deputy for, and high judge of, the city and environs of Pahdookahport, strode solemnly into the small chamber. When he removed his flat cap of plum velvet and cloth-of-gold, his bald scalp reflected the light of the lamps as fully as did his exposed teeth and dark eyes. Bobbing the shortest bow permissible, he nodded, “Your grace.” Then his smile, which at no time went beyond his mouth, was turned toward the others. “Ah, young Sir Huhmfree and… why, my word, is it truly you then. Sir Peetuh? Why, I’ve not seen you in… How long is it? Years, anyway. We two old ones should get together more often, you know.

“Sir Benedikt Railz, what in the world brings you from your lovely hall? Oh, of course, the duke’s muster. And that would, of course, account for your presence, too, Sir Leeoh. But, Sir Clai, have you then recovered enough of that smashed kneecap to once more ride to war?”

Before any of them could even start to frame answers, the duke said, “Lapkin, we’re about to issue up some arrest warrants for certain malefactors. Sit you down there at the end of the table. I’d have you read a copy of the testimony before the scribes arrive, that all may be in proper order.” “Of course, your grace,” said the baron, adding, in a condescending tone addressed to the knights, “you see, wise as is our lord, he is ever ready to seek out expert and loyal counsel.”

But he had read no more than two pages when all of the blood drained from his face, the hands that began to rip and tear at the statement were seen to tremble and the voice that he finally found had developed a quaver. “Your… your grace must not, cannot believe a… a single word of… of this! The… the woman has obviously gone mad and… and besides, look at what she is. Harlots and madams, they… they’re all liars, everyone knows that! Does my dear lord suppose that I… that for one moment I… no, my lord, mayhap these others named are truly guilty of… but not me, my lord, not me!

“No, Lapkin,” said Tcharlz, a hint of sadness in his voice, “I am inclined to think you guilty of all those charges, of them, and probably of much, much more which the woman, Yohahna, was unaware of or did not mention.”

The baron slid out of his chair onto his knees and crawled abjectly to the duke’s side. Raising his tremulous hands beseechingly, he stuttered, “N… no, my l… lord, no!”

Tcharlz looked sternly down at the groveling man. “Yes, Lapkin, yes! It stand to reason, man. There is no way that bitch and her minions could have engaged in all but open smuggling, kidnapping and extortion and all the sorry rest without protection of them and their activities by a very powerful man. And who more powerful than a man who was, at once, my deputy and the high judge?” “My… my lord has already convicted me!” wailed the baron. “Perjured test… testimony… a trial… right to face my…” The duke’s voice was become warm honey flowing over steel. “Oh, yes, Lapkin, you’ll get a trial, an open trial, just as soon as I get back from Traderstownport. Meanwhile, because I suspect that you and your criminal cohorts just might take it upon yourselves to take a voyage for reasons of health, you will be availing yourself of the hospitality of Pirates’ Folly. My good Master Kahks is already preparing a private room for your occupancy—a cool, dark, quiet one, wherein you may have the peace to reflect upon your treachery to me and my folk.”

Tcharlz raised his voice a few notches. “Guard!”