Shae, to Grey’s appreciation, was handled delicately, carried in the arms of another pirate. She hadn’t so much as stirred in her sleep.
The pirates refused to answer any of Captain Smithers’s questions about the Drahma or how killing a few of the vicious sea creatures had “doomed us all,” as they’d said.
The pirates, all now grim-faced and serious, marched them along at a swift pace, out of the cavern and into a tunnel lit with torches set into golden fixtures along the walls. Beneath their feet, coins clinked and scattered as they walked. The wealth beneath our feet could feed every hungry urchin in Knight’s End, Grey thought. And these pirates use it for paving and to decorate the bottom of the sea.
As they walked, Captain Smithers asked, “Whose gold is this?”
The broad-headed pirate captain said, “If you don’t know, then yer an even bigger fool than I thought.” That shut Smithers up right quick.
A few minutes later, Kyla said, “This place is amazing.” She practically purred the words out, and Grey noticed the way she pouted her lips. The pirate who was guiding her by the elbow drank her in with his eyes, and Grey felt a spike of anger, which he quickly tempered. She was playing a role, that was all. Their ability to act might mean the difference between life and death. Him included.
“You ain’t seen nuthin’ yet,” the pirate said, easing closer to her, rubbing his fingertips along the smooth skin of her arm.
Kyla smiled seductively. “How many big, strong pirates are there on this island?” she asked.
“Only one,” the man said. “Me!” He laughed at his own wit. “But all said there are three hundred or so at any time, give or take. Plus our wenches!” Another laugh, echoed by several of the other pirates, none of them women.
“Silence!” the pirate captain said. The man clamped his mouth shut. “No more questions and no more answers.” Grey silently applauded Kyla for getting some valuable information. Then again, the news wasn’t good. Three hundred pirates was more than Grey could have ever imagined. Doesn’t matter, Grey thought, watching his sister’s unconscious body bob in the pirate’s arms. The mission hasn’t changed. Good men have died so we could get to this point. We cannot fail.
Eventually, a light appeared up ahead, growing larger with each step. It was different than the torchlight, brighter and less orange, more white. The end of the tunnel, Grey thought. Though it had felt like a year had passed since they entered the darkness, it was still day outside.
The tunnel spilled out and Grey had to blink several times to adjust his eyes to the brightness. Once he could see again, he scanned the terrain in disbelief. Despite the pirate admitting there were three hundred pirates on the island, he still wasn’t prepared for the bustling city unfolding before them.
The area was surrounded by towering cliffs, impossible to scale without plenty of rope and nerves of steel, and palm trees lined the edges, as well as the pathway leading from the tunnel to the village. Grey quickly took stock of whether there were any other tunnels carved into the cliffs, but found only sheer stone. Evidently the way they’d come was the only way in or out.
Gold coins continued to scatter beneath their feet, as if they were naught but pebbles to be kicked and trod on. Grey, curious as to the origin of such wealth, stooped to look more closely at them.
“On yer feet, ye mongrel,” a pirate said, hauling him up by his underarm. “Ye’ll not steal from the king.”
King? Grey thought. Since when did pirates have a king? He’d managed to inspect several of the coins before being yanked back up. Two were golden dragons from Calyp, three were golden pythons from Phanes, and one was a golden stallion from Knight’s End. These pirates clearly didn’t discriminate when choosing their targets.
They reached the point where the pathway split the rows of buildings, which were of surprisingly fine workmanship, built from well-cut stone blocks, heavy timber, and slate roofing. The windows had glass panes and shutters, and the doors were painted in bright colors—blue, red, and yellow.
Dozens of pirates stared as they marched through the village, jeering at them. “Forgot to pay yer tax, did ye?” said one. “Newcomers, eh?” another commented. “Fresh meat.” And on and on, some of the insults so full of creative profanity that Grey almost blushed. Almost. Kyla, on the hand, seemed immune to it. It wasn’t much more than she heard on the ship every day of her life. Still, Grey was glad Shae wasn’t conscious to hear it.
Even worse were the catcalls from the highest windows of the buildings they passed. Women hung over the sills, their ample bosoms barely covered by short-cut corsets and nothing else. The wenches, Grey assumed. Like the pirates, they came in all shapes and sizes and colors. There were even a few he-wenches, which Grey should’ve expected considering there were she-pirates.
Through a number of the windows, Grey saw more than he bargained for, lovers locked in intimate embraces, most of them without a thread of clothing.
“Hey, blade-arm,” one of the women called to Grey, tossing her dark hair and pressing her pink lips together. “Once the king is done with you, I can nurse you back to health.”
Kyla fired a deadly glare at the woman, but she didn’t notice. Grey looked away, not knowing what to say. He wasn’t accustomed to such…blatant sexuality—Knight’s End had a dark underground, as all large cities did, but it was quiet and secret and didn’t shake its bosoms out the window.
Along the way, Grey also saw great wealth, none of it hidden away. Gaudy jewelry seemed to hang from every limb, pierce every crevice, sparkling and shimmering in the sunlight. Men, women, even a few pirate children, showed off their wealth without fear of theft. It was a thief’s dream city. He wondered how such behavior was possible amongst fellow thieves. Did these people actually trust each other? As a recovering thief himself, Grey didn’t see how such an arrangement could work. He would never have trusted one of his thief acquaintances back in Knight’s End. Not as far as he could throw them. And he didn’t expect them to trust him.
He had so many questions about this place already, and they’d only just arrived.
The further into the row of buildings they got, the more chaotic the atmosphere became. Music was played by men and women with stringed instruments and flutes. Dancers flew around them, singing along. Pirates groped and kissed wenches against walls and barrels, in full view of everyone else. Not that anyone noticed. Vendors served roasted leg of cow and braised grilled chicken wings, smoked fish and fried octopus, baked potatoes swamped with rich, brown gravy and fire-roasted peppers on slabs of buttered bread. Coin seemed to change hands at the speed of light, and Grey wondered how many paid by simply reaching down and grabbing the wealth beneath their feet. He watched carefully, but never saw a single hand reach for the ground.
He remembered the pirate’s warning: Ye’ll not steal from the king. Whoever this king was, Grey assumed he must be greatly feared to inspire such loyalty amongst criminals.
Eventually, they reached the end of the line, where a final structure sat at the end of the path, slightly apart from the rest. Two stone lions sat on their haunches on either side of a doorway, their mouths open in a silent roar. Other than that, the building was not so different to the others they’d passed. It had a red door with a golden lion painted on the front. The doorknob seemed to be made of pure gold, though it could just as easily have been gold-painted brass.
Two pirates, both broad-chested and tall, brimming with muscles, guarded it.
The pirate captain who had captured them strode up to one and whispered something in his ear. The guard’s eyes widened and he swiftly opened the door, waving them inside. “The king’s not gonna be happy ’bout that,” he muttered.
The captain led them inside. They entered a wood-paneled parlor. In the center sat a long wooden table surrounded by a dozen padded wooden chairs. The walls were festooned with various nautical memorabilia—a full-size ship’s wheel, bits of tattered sails and shreds of rope, three swords, two daggers, and even a captain’
s hat. On every horizontal surface there seemed to be at least one statue of a golden lion. The side tables, the bar, and the corner table each had one, while the long table had three, so that each seat was in direct view of at least one.
At one side, a winding wooden staircase spiraled upward. One of the pirates scurried up it.
“Sit,” the captain commanded, when the man was gone.
“On our hands?” Captain Smithers said, mockingly. “Is this the way you treat all your pirate captains?”
The man flicked a finger in Smithers’s direction, and one of the other pirates shoved him into a chair. More chairs were brought out until everyone had one. Shae was laid gently on a plush, red sofa nearby. Again, the pirate who took care of her was far gentler than Grey would’ve expected.
Grey was directly across from Kyla, who gently touched her foot to his leg. He offered her a small smile and a nod. It was time to begin their plan, the one they’d had to keep from her father to ensure he didn’t accidentally spoil it.
Footsteps approached on wooden steps, bringing Grey’s attention back to the situation at hand. He, along with the others, turned to face the newcomer, this pirate king. As the man came into view, Grey’s eyebrows slowly rose. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but not the man now descending the staircase. Grey looked behind him to see if another followed. Someone rougher. Someone older.
But no, the way the other pirates straightened up, their demeanors that of underlings in the presence of their leader, made it clear that this young man was, in fact, the king they’d spoken of.
Grey studied him intently. His garb was clean and ironed, from his long black trousers to his fresh, white shirt. His black belt was clasped with a silver buckle inlaid with gemstones—rubies, emeralds, sapphires. His boots were made from fine leather and not scuffed. He wore no hat, his long, sandy-brown hair tied in a ponytail. Unlike most of the other pirates they’d come across so far, he wasn’t adorned with jewelry, the only exception being the priceless belt buckle. The pirate king was older than Grey, perhaps by two or three years, with sharp, intelligent green eyes that darted from person to person, seeming to analyze them in an instant before moving on. Grey had the urge to look away from his stare when it settled on him, but he didn’t, holding his breath until the pirate’s gaze had passed by.
Last of all, the pirate located Shae, her small form swallowed up by the large couch she slept on. Upon seeing her, his eyes widened. “By the winds,” the pirate whispered.
“It was just like you said, King,” the pirate captain said. “She was in the cave, unconscious. We thought she was dead.”
The pirate king didn’t seem to be listening, the entirety of his attention focused on Shae, on the rise and fall of her chest. He took a step closer to her, then another. He seemed almost…scared…like he was trying to corner a snake. Regardless, Grey wanted to scream, “Get away from her!” but knew an outburst like that would give him away. Instead, he nudged Kyla under the table. She nodded.
“She’s not bin well since we passed the Phanecian tip,” she said loudly. “First we thunk it might be the scurvy, but she’d et plenny of veg, it shoulda passed by now.” Grey had to hold back a laugh at her accent.
Slowly, the king’s head turned to face Kyla. “Who is this girl? How did she come to be on your ship?” The young man spoke crisply, enunciating each word.
“She’s a servin’ wench,” Kyla said. “She ain’t worth yer—”
“Silence!” Captain Smithers suddenly bellowed, standing. One of the pirates grabbed his shoulders and shoved him back down.
“And you are?” the king asked.
“Captain Darius Smithers, at yer service, Yer Highness,” Smithers said, tipping his oversized hat.
“And you’re a…pirate?” The king’s tone made it clear he was suspicious.
Smithers recited the mixture of truth and lie easily. “Aye. As of a few months ago. I was a lowly merchant, scrapin’ by on the skin o’ me teeth. Ye see, me wife passed on into the Void ’bout that time. Not gonna lie, it tore me up. I’m not ashamed to say I ’bout drank meself into oblivion, I did. But then, after I sobered up, I decided I’d had enuff of fightin’ fer ever’ coin, fer ever’ meal. So I took me first ship, a fellow merchant, one of me rivals. Made more coin from that one venture than I had in years. I was…hooked, if ye’ll excuse the expression.”
The pirate king did not look impressed.
Grey took advantage of the brief silence to make his move. He leapt up onto his chair, danced onto the table, and sprang over the head of one of the pirate guards. His goal wasn’t to escape, of course, so when another pirate charged to block his path, he cut toward the man, bashing his shoulder into him, felling him like a tree. He landed atop him, careful not to stab him in the process, and then rolled deftly to the side, using his momentum to regain his feet. He probably could’ve done all this with his hand firmly tied behind his back, but it wasn’t, not anymore. While sitting, he’d maneuvered his blade against the knots, slicing it back and forth until they’d snapped and fallen away.
Now, however, he was grabbed by two strong pirates, one man and one woman. He didn’t fight them as they hauled him before the pirate king, who was studying him like a master jeweler might inspect a gem believed to be a fake.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Grease Jolly,” Grey answered. He was surprised how smoothly the words came out after all this time. He’d been loath to reassume the old nickname, but Kyla had insisted the name was important for the plan. He needed to look and act the part in order to convince these pirates.
The king said, “You weren’t trying to escape.” It was a statement of fact, by a man who trusted his instincts. “So what were you doing?”
Grey was impressed. “How did you know?”
The king didn’t seem to mind being questioned by a prisoner. “You’re surrounded, for one, so you’d have to be mad to attempt an escape, and you don’t strike me as crazy. Secondly, you had a clear path to the door, but you chose to smash into my guard instead. Third, you didn’t struggle as they retook you. Fourth, anyone who had the skill to escape their bounds would’ve been more selective at choosing their moment to flee.” The king ticked off each point on his fingers, until all but his thumb was sticking out.
Grey nodded. “You’re right to be suspicious of Captain Smithers,” he said.
The king nodded. “You’re the true captain, aren’t you? Captain Jolly.”
“Now wait just a minute—” Smithers started to say, but there was a loud thud as Kyla kicked him under the table, turning his protests into a howl.
“Yes. Many apologies for the act, but I needed to test your mind before I revealed myself,” Grey said.
The king’s eyes narrowed, but not in anger—more like he was trying to figure out the solution to a problem. “And what is the result of your test?”
“That you are not a rash man. That you are reasonable, logical. That we can negotiate what happens next without fear of bodily harm.”
The pirate king said, “All of that might’ve been true before you stirred up our gatekeepers. Instead I must kill all of you.”
Grey’s breath caught as the king turned back toward Shae. “Except her. She is mine.”
Ninety-Three
The Southern Empire, Pirate’s Peril
Grey Arris
As swords were drawn, Grey knew that not only had his plan failed, but he’d sorely misjudged the pirate king. He’d expected a man who might be impressed by a fellow criminal as slippery and wily as he. So he blurted out the only thing that might change the course of events. “She’s my sister.”
The king held up a hand, and his pirates stopped, though their weapons remained drawn and at the ready.
“How do I know you’re not lying?” the pirate king asked. “Everything has been a lie thus far. The lot of you are common criminals.”
The word stung, because Grey knew it was true. Regardless of everything he’d done as Grey
Arris, Grease Jolly’s sins would always haunt him. But what struck him harder was the fact that a notorious pirate seemed so affronted by it.
“Here’s the truth…” Grey said. As quickly as possible, he came clean. He told them how they weren’t really pirates, how they were here seeking a pirate with a marking on his hand, how Smithers was the true captain of The Jewel. He even revealed the gold coin and satchel of gems he’d stolen from the pirate he’d bashed into when he pretended to try to escape. “I was once a thief,” Grey admitted. “But I’m not anymore. I am Shae’s brother.” He pointed at her. “My name is Grey Arris.”
Throughout it all, the pirate king only listened, his expression neutral. When Grey finished, he said, “I am King Erric Clawborn, King of the Pirates. And I am the marked pirate you seek.”
As Grey stared, thinking Shae was dreaming of this pirate king the whole time, a torch was brought, and waved over the king’s hand. The golden marking shone forth, a beautiful shaft of color, ending in the tell-tale form of the end of a key.
At the same moment, rays of light burst from Shae’s palm, revealing her mark.
“By the winds,” King Erric said again, his tone full of awe. “It is her.”
“What do you want with my sister?” Grey asked.
The pirate’s eyes never left Shae’s glowing palm. “The same thing she sought coming here. To know my purpose. To know what it all means, the dreams, the markings. I can feel it now, in my skin, in my bones—she calls to me.”
“She’s only eleven,” Grey lied, his natural instinct to protect her flaring to life.