Treason's Shore

  Since his return, she’d never seen Inda angry. Inda’s anger startled Tdor into a laugh, though the impulse was less humorous than a weird thrill of uneasiness.

  A glint of gold flickered across the office like a captured ray of sunlight. Clank! Inda’s magical golden case hit the dull knife Hadand kept as an opener for sealed letters.

  “Inda?”

  He slammed his fist against the door. “Evred just got a note from Barend. You know, that locket thing they have.” He smacked his chest. “Barend doesn’t have one of these damn things.”

  “Should he have?”

  “Evred didn’t want him taking one. If he had, I could make even bigger mistakes,” Inda exclaimed, and kicked the door frame. “Damn. Damn! I knew Fox hated us—that is, Marlovans—but I thought we’d resolved it all. I thought if I trusted him, then it would—oh, shit. It doesn’t matter, I was just stupid.” He booted a small stool, which skittered across the bare stone floor and clattered into one of the chests containing old orders and letters.

  Tdor rose, her heart beating fast. “You’re here, Inda. You must want me for something besides watching you kick apart my office.”

  Inda flushed red to the ears and stumbled to a stop. “I’m sorry, Tdor.” He dropped onto the other mat.

  Tdor sat down next to him as he clawed back loosened strands of hair with a shaking hand. “Barend wanted to know if I’d ordered Fox to Bren with the Death and the others. Of course I didn’t!”

  “Fox Montredavan-An is in Bren?”

  “With my fleet! It’s my fault. I told him about my secret plan—”

  “What secret plan?”

  “Oh, there’s no use in explaining now. When I think how close we came to fixing all the problems . . . Damnation!” With his left hand he picked up the gold case and flung it with all his strength into the fireplace, where it clattered down directly onto the Fire Sticks. “What use is that thing anyway? No one writes to me, not even Tau anymore. Why did he stop overnight like that? Because I bored him? Jeje never wrote to me, not once. The only thing I brought about with these damn things was getting Noddy killed, and setting Fox onto Barend—”

  “Inda. Inda, tell me what happened.” She got up and used a wrist knife to poke the case off the fire. It had already begun to twist in the heat.

  Inda stared at the ceiling, breathing hard until he got a grip on himself. “Barend’s in Bren. Says Fox and the fleet showed up. So I wrote to Fox just now. Asked him why he went to Bren. Asked him what he intended to do there.”

  He tended to keep his right hand close to his side, especially after practice. Now it opened, and there lay a crumbled strip of paper. Tdor bent over Inda’s palm and read the slanting letters:

  I have yet to decide.

  Chapter Fourteen

  THE docks in Bren Harbor were deserted except for the roaming patrols of guards, all fully armed. On every single rooftop along the quay—warehouses, stores, taverns—guards roosted in the cold, snowy weather, bows to hand and a cache of arrows apiece.

  Behind windows, people watched. They speculated to no purpose, worried, cursed, laughed, laid bets. Others threw up their hands and went on with their lives, some with a pirate-thumping weapon ready to hand, just in case.

  The sinister black pirate trysail floated in the middle of the harbor, its consorts at either side, crews (at least a hundred spyglasses made certain) ready to flash sail at word or sign from the lone red-haired figure, dressed all in black, lounging on the captain’s deck.

  Through an entire day the spyglasses stayed trained on that ship. Not long after nightfall, a stir at the main dock brought word relayed up to the watch commander: “Woman wants to hire a boat to take her out to the pirate.”

  “What? This I have to witness.”

  Jeje never saw Barend. As soon as she returned from her interview, she skinned out of the fancy clothes, rolled them up into a ball (with some regret at treating silk with so little respect), and shoved them into her bag. She got into her sailor gear, pulled on the shapeless wool hat hanging by the door for everyone to use when going into the vegetable garden. Always scrupulous (according to her lights) Jeje left her old knit sock cap—too obviously a sailor’s cap—in its place. Then she hefted her new gear bag and under cover of darkness slipped through the garden, over the back fence, through another garden, and into the street, walking anonymously past the patrolling guards.

  She spent the night at Chim’s, as the weather had turned too rough for rowing out into the harbor. Then there was the matter of the King’s Guard having the entire harbor locked down. Chim sent word to a couple of his more trusty watermen to be standing by when Jeje reached the first perimeter.

  “Who are you? Where are you going?” the sentry captain asked.

  “I want to hire a boat.” Jeje poked a thumb toward the hire craft floating at the dock. “Get back on board.”

  “On board what?”

  “My ship.”

  “Which would be?”

  By now she was surrounded. In the lantern light, naked swords gleamed. Not the time to be mouthy. “My ship’s out there on the water—”

  “Look at this,” one interrupted, pointing under the terrible hat, where her ruby glittered in the lantern light. “She’s gotta be the pirate Jeje. I think you better get the commander.”

  “I’m not a pirate.” At the various shufflings, shiftings, and snortings of disbelief, Jeje sighed. “Look, no one wants any trouble. I just want to get back on deck. Princess Kliessin already interviewed me yesterday,” she added.

  The mention of the princess caused more looks and shuffles, then someone sent someone else loping off into the darkness as the warriors closed in around her, standing within sword length.

  They stood like that, no one talking (Jeje wondering if she’d start a war if she asked the one who’d been eating fried onions not to stand on her toes) until the approach of running feet broke the circle. A tall, strong man with grizzled hair marched up. This just had to be the watch commander.

  “You belong to yon pirate?” he asked.

  “Yes.” That was simplest. “I’ve been acting as envoy,” Jeje said. “Saw the princess yesterday. Now I’m supposed to report back.” She jerked her mittened thumb toward the Death.

  Heads snapped seaward, then back. Another day she’d remember that and laugh. Now she just stood there, jaw jutted, feet planted, arms crossed, mittened hands gripping her knife hilts.

  “Send her.” The commander waved, his attitude adding Good riddance.

  Chim’s watermen appeared as if by magic, and Jeje, recognizing them, said loudly, “Got a boat I can hire?”

  “Right at the dock,” was the answer, hint hint, wink wink.

  The commander rolled his eyes at this lumbering attempt at covert communication. If these people were sophisticated international spies, he was a Venn. “Row her out, and you’ll report back to me before you run off to Chim,” he added grimly, causing the would-be secret emissar ies to deflate a little.

  Onboard the Death, Fox had posted sharp eyes at the mastheads, watching the coast as steadily as it watched him. He’d expected someone to row out and demand his business; the long wait made him wonder what was going on inside the city. He was considering whom to send when at last a boat set out from the main dock, lanterns aswing at every heave of the oars.

  “I think that’s Jeje,” Mutt yelled, his voice cracking. He was acting as lookout, and as captain of the foremast bow team. And then a triumphant aside to one of his cronies on the mizzenmast, “Nugget’s gonna be fried she wasn’t here t’see her first.”

  “She’s too busy showing off for Cap’n Eflis,” came the hoarse reply.

  Mutt scowled into the darkness.

  Fox was able to hear the sotto voce conversation going on over his head, but the time for absolute silence had passed. And Mutt knew it.

  So Fox snapped out his glass, satisfied himself that this was indeed Jeje on her way through the night-black, icy waters. He said, ??
?Signal the captains of Cocodu and Rapier.”

  Then he returned to his cabin for the first time since dawn and sat down at the desk. Two movements were habitual: with one hand he reached for the desk drawer containing the gilt-edged black book, and with the other he touched the golden case. When his fingers tingled on contact with the gold, he shoved the drawer shut again. After months without any message, it seemed Inda had remembered someone besides his damned Montrei-Vayirs.

  Fox, what are you doing in Bren?

  Fox eyed the large, scrawling letters. It could be Inda’s fingers were almost as numb as Fox’s were now, but Fox read anger in those sloppy letters, and laughed. “I don’t yet know, but you’re not going to find that out,” he said aloud.

  Inda deserved to sweat. How stupid he was, to even consider throwing away ten generations of pirate treasure on those fool Montrei-Vayirs, whose own stupidity had run the kingdom aground in the first place.

  Fox warmed his fingers over a candle, dashed off an answer, and tossed the golden case back onto the desk as Jeje’s boat thumped up against the hull. On deck he discovered the older crewmates surrounding Jeje, some pounding her on the back, everyone talking at once.

  Well aware of the spyglasses trained on them from the shore, Fox flicked a drifting snowflake from his arm and said, “Come into the cabin.” And as soon as the door was shut, “Why did you leave Inda?”

  “To find Tau’s mother.” Jeje glared around the cabin. Looking for signs of Inda, perhaps? No, Inda had never left any signs of habitation anywhere he’d lived, and she’d know that. Disapproving of the row of books on the carved shelf? The golden Colendi gondola lamps, or the astonishing silk wall hanging of raptors taking flight in the pale shades of dawn? All legitimate pirate loot.

  Jeje eyed Fox’s smile as he dropped onto his chair and propped a booted foot on the edge of the table. A knife hilt gleamed in the boot top, winking with golden highlights as the beautiful lamp swung forward, back.

  “Well?” she said finally. “I’m waiting for your usual nasty remark about Tau. Or his mother.”

  “Don’t tell me,” he said derisively. “She’s a long lost princess.”

  Jeje almost laughed out loud. Fox was interested despite himself. She thought about what she’d discovered, and decided he’d have to ask. “No. That is, long-lost yes, princess, no. So where’s Vixen, and who’s in charge?”

  “Right now, Nugget—”

  “She’s alive?”

  “Showed up in Parayid. All but one arm. Instead, you might say, she’d armed herself with the conviction she was now everyone’s responsibility to protect and defend.” His smile turned nasty. “I’ve been thrashing that out of her since summer. Now she’s teaching herself to move around the rigging, either to impress Eflis, or to show me up. Maybe both.”

  From outside boat calls:

  “Boats, hai!”

  “Cocodu!”

  “Rapier!”

  Dasta and Gillor had arrived from their ships.

  Jeje turned her attention back to Fox. “She’s playing in the rigging on Vixen?”

  “No. Maybe. After she and two loudmouths rerig the scout and finish with some sail shifting practice.” A snort of laughter. “She’ll be back in time for dawn drill. It’s for backchat on deck. We had a little brush with some of Boruin’s former friends just off her old lair east of Danai, and Nugget acquitted herself so well she’s got lippy.” Fox shook with silent laughter as he glanced over his shoulder.

  Jeje grinned. Good for you, Nugget. She hopped to the stern window and peered through the drifts of fog. The Vixen was only a faint silhouette, just emerging from the island’s lee side, sails shifting with commendable speed. It would be a while before it tacked across the harbor.

  Jeje fought off the strong surge of longing to see her scout again, and drew in a grateful breath of brine air, loving even the tang of wood-mold and slushy ice and a trace of hemp. No better smell in all the world.

  The cabin door banged open and there were Dasta and Gillor, looking tough and weathered. I wonder if I look land-soft to them, she thought, then leaped up, laughing, to find herself squeezed in a rib-creaking hug by Dasta, and then by Gillor. Laughing questions, half-answers, a sudden, sharp, “Where’s Tcholan?” to be reassured by, “He’s in command of the blockade—guarding one end, and Eflis at the other. Even a floating plank won’t get past those two.”

  Fox cut through the chatter. “Jeje was in the middle of her report when you interrupted. Do continue, whenever they will let you.”

  Gillor snorted and dropped onto the bench, Dasta preferring to lean against a bulkhead where he could see everyone.

  Jeje smacked her hands together. “So good to be back! I hate land.”

  Dasta ducked his head, making a sympathetic gesture. “But you went to help Inda.”

  “She went,” Fox drawled, “to discover Taumad’s mysterious heritage. And seems to have found his mother. Behold my curiosity.”

  Gillor snorted even louder, though Dasta thought, I’ll wager anything that for once he’s telling the truth.

  Gillor said to Jeje, “Was it true pirates got her?”

  “One of Marshig’s gang was holding Parayid. Got bored waiting for battle. Wanted to burn the town down for fun. She offered to trade herself for leaving the town be. Which is why Parayid was only partially destroyed, unlike some of the other harbors.”

  Dasta looked disgusted. “So she’s now a Coco?”

  Fox’s brows rose in satirical question.

  “Not her! That is, she agreed to be the captain’s favorite, but just for a while. She hated the captain’s habits of carving up crewmembers who’d made him mad. She asked him not to. When he wouldn’t stop, she organized a mutiny. Wasn’t hard, she said.”

  Gillor whooped for joy. “So she’s a pirate captain? Why didn’t we hear about her?”

  “Because she isn’t anymore. She objected to anyone being carved up. Which is what pirates do. So she proposed they become a pleasure ship. Hiring out to rich people who might like the danger of cruising on a real pirate ship. Nightly parties? Drink, dance, song, and fun? The pirates apparently were lightning-struck with the notion of being paid for sex. Naturally they intended to rob their customers blind as soon as the cruise was done, though she tried to explain that you didn’t get return business that way.”

  Dasta guffawed. Fox shaded his eyes, but Jeje could see the smile in the corners of his mouth.

  Gillor said doubtfully, “Were these pirates good looking?”

  “My understanding was, no.”

  “Strange.” Gillor slapped her hands on the table. “At least she wasn’t killed. So why isn’t Tau with you?”

  “He’s probably still traveling.” Jeje jerked her thumb toward the rise of land. “Why are you here in Bren, of all places?”

  Gillor shrugged. “Cruising the strait.”

  Dasta’s thumb turned toward Fox. “Wanted to see if the Venn were really gone, and who was runnin’ things in the strait. Bren being the best harbor for news.”

  Jeje looked skeptical. Why not settle in at Freedom Island for the winter and get the news from there? Something was missing. A quick look convinced her that whatever it was, Fox knew and the others didn’t.

  Dasta dug his thumbnail into the polished wood of the bulkhead, his brow perplexed. “I get you were finding Tau’s mother, and I get that she’s still alive, but I don’t get your place in all that.”

  Jeje lifted a shoulder. “I met Inda’s wife-to-be. She said something that made me curious. And, well, Inda didn’t need me, not after he and his king friend put together an army. So I thought I’d investigate.”

  “Ah.” Dasta’s interest sharpened at Inda’s name. “So is Inda really behind the rumors about the Venn—”

  “How about later? I’m thirsty now, and—”

  “Later’ll do. Fox, are we leaving, and if so where to? If the Venn aren’t coming after us, I wouldn’t mind sailing back to Freedom to spend the rest of w
inter in comfort.”

  “Give it another day,” Fox said.

  Dasta and Gillor exchanged looks. They knew Fox was up to something, and eventually they’d find it out. Maybe Jeje would find out sooner.

  They welcomed Jeje again and left; as the sounds of their departure thunked through the hull, Fox just waited, his expression derisive.

  Jeje crossed her arms, glowering at him.

  Water splashed against the hull, and the ship rocked gently. Footfalls on the deck became muffled: the snow was falling faster, masking the shoreline.

  Fox broke the silence. “You were gloating, Jeje.”

  “I was not!”

  “You were. I suspect you’re itching to tell me that Taumad is a long-lost cousin of mine, but I figured that out years ago. That would make him the outcast of the western Deis—his grandmother disinherited because she skipped out of a duty marriage and ran off with my aunt.”

  “They were both supposed to make duty marriages, I was told. Skipped out instead. Good for them,” Jeje added with trenchant emphasis.

  “My aunt vanished over the border a week after my father was born, considering herself freed from the obligation of a duty marriage to produce an heir. That she was also disinherited doesn’t mean much in my family at present.”

  Jeje sighed.

  “So the sober branch of the Deis, fresh from their triumph at having their Joret turn up as next queen of the Adranis, unbuttoned about the family scapegrace, eh?”

  “Could be you’re right.”

  “And because the Adranis mimic Colend”—Fox’s expression was more derisive than usual—“Taumad’s mother flounced in expecting them to bow and smile, despite her having earned a living in trade. If you’re a Dei, doesn’t matter what you do, so long as you do it with style.” He leaned forward. “And now you expect Taumad to take up palace life like he was born to it.”

  Jeje flipped him the back of her hand. “You are a shit. You know that?”

  Fox laughed. “Yes, and so is my long-lost cousin. We’re so alike, isn’t that what you were going to imply?”