Corsair (22 page)

“What can I do?” Sarth asked.

“Go forward and act like you’re on watch. If anyone comes up on deck, try not to let on that anything’s out of the ordinary. Hamil, you’ll do the same. I’m going to turn us slowly to our new course and see if I can’t quietly put on a little more sail without anyone noticing.”

“If this works, I’ll be astonished,” Hamil muttered. “But I guess it’s worth a try.” The halfling shrugged and moved to take up his position near the mainmast.

Geran returned to the quarterdeck, checked briefly on Khefen—the mate seemed to be well and truly out—and took the wheel again. Working just a few degrees at a time he brought their course a good fifty degrees over, settling on a heading just a little east of due north. Then he put the keeper back on the helm and hurried down to the main deck to help Hamil and Sarth square the yardarms back around, now that they were sailing further from the wind. Geran sorely wanted to break out more sail, but he’d need most of the watch for that. He might be able to bluff his way through by propping Khefen up at the rail and telling the watch that the second mate wanted more sail on, but there were just too many things that could go wrong if he roused a dozen more of their watchmates. He settled

for having Sarth and Hamil quietly break out the staysails, which were comparatively small, close to the deck, and easily handled. They didn’t add much to Moonshark’s speed, but every little bit helped, and the wind was beginning to pick up a little bit.

They ran for most of the night with little difficulty. Several times sleepy crewmen came up to the deck to answer calls of nature. None seemed to notice that the ship was not on the heading she was supposed to be on, but that didn’t surprise Geran. Very few deckhands knew anything about navigation, and Narsk was hardly in the habit of informing the crew exactly where he was bound at any given moment. Usually no one other than the mate on watch and the man standing at the helm knew what course the ship was steering, if there weren’t any landmarks in sight. One or two noticed the staysails and said something, but Hamil deflected the questions easily enough by simply saying “the captain told Khefen to break em out.” The deckhands took Hamil at his word and made their way back down to their hammocks.

Two hours before dawn, Geran judged that they’d pushed their luck far enough. In an hour or so Tao Zhe would be rising to begin making breakfast. Geran wanted to be off the ship before then. He was just about to call Hamil and Sarth to the quarterdeck when he heard heavy footsteps on the portside ladder. A moment later, Sorsil appeared on the quarterdeck. “How goes the night?” the first mate asked. Then her eye fell on Khefen’s motionless form, propped up by the rail. “What in the—Is that miserable bastard asleep on his watch?”

Geran stared at her in horror. Fortunately, Sorsil’s attention was fixed on Khefen. The first mate crossed the quarterdeck and kicked Khefen savagely. The second mate fell over with a strange grunt but didn’t awake. “By Cyric’s black blade! He’s dead drunk!” she fumed.

“Master Khefen said he wasn’t feeling well,” Geran stammered. “The night was quiet enough, so I just kept on as he told me.”

Sorsil looked at the lodestone in front of the helm and then glanced up at the sky. The night had cleared a bit, and a few stars were shining through the overcast. “Bloody hell, we’re sailing due north! And who put on the extra sail? How long have we been going like this?”

“Only half an hour or so,” Geran said. “It was the last thing Khefen told us to do before he … fell ill.”

Sorsil was livid. The first mate kicked Khefen’s unresponsive body again,

and Geran winced. The last thing he needed now was for the second mate to wake up. But evidently he’d sapped the man harder than he thought, for Khefen still didn’t rouse. The first mate rounded on Geran again. “Half an hour, you say? You didn’t think to send the rover to tell me that he was godsdamned unconscious? How much longer were you going to go on without letting anyone know that you were the only man on the quarterdeck?”

Sorry, Geran, I didn’t see her come up on deck! Hamil’s silent voice cut into Geran’s thoughts. A moment later the halfling hurried up the ladder from the maindeck. “Is all well?” he asked aloud.

“Ask your friend here,” Sorsil snapped. The first mate looked one more time at Khefen and then scowled at both Geran and Hamil. “Bring the ship back to west by northwest, damn you,” she finally said. “And you there, Dagger, you go below and rouse the whole watch. We’re going to take in sail like the captain wanted, and then you’re going to explain what in the Nine Hells is going on here.”

Distract her, Geran, Hamil told him. We can’t afford a scene.

Geran grimaced. He knew he wouldn’t like what came next, but he couldn’t see any way around it, not if he still hoped to spare Hulburg the brunt of the Black Moon raid. He looked at Sorsil and said, quite deliberately, “I’ve had enough from you, Sorsil. I think the sails are fine as they are. Take them in yourself if you don’t like the way they’re set.”

The first mate paled in rage. “You think—?” she snarled. She reached for the truncheon at her waist. And at that moment Hamil glided up behind her, reached up to clap a hand over her mouth, and sank his poniard into the first mate’s back. Sorsil staggered forward two steps; Geran caught her and wrestled her over to the rail. They struggled for a moment, but the first mate’s strength was already failing. With one final effort Geran toppled her over the side with a splash, although Hamil had to catch the swordmage by the belt buckle to keep him from going in after her.

I doubt that Daried Selsherryn would have approved of that, he thought grimly. It was murder, pure and simple, and Geran was none too proud of it. But Sorsil had killed more than a few of Moonshark’s victims with her own steel, or so he’d heard from Tao Zhe and others aboard. And scores, perhaps hundreds, of Hulburgan lives were at risk if he failed to warn the harmach of the pirate plan. He looked over to Hamil and nodded his thanks. “I think we’re out of time.”

“Agreed,” the halfling said. “How far to Hulburg, do you think?”

“It might be fifteen miles, it might be thirty.” That would be a brutal distance if they had to row it, but the longboat had a small mast that could be stepped into place with just a few minutes’ work. Geran hoped to sail to Hulburg, not row.

“They’ll come after us once they find us gone,” Hamil pointed out.

“I know.” Geran thought for a moment, considering how best to sabotage the ship. Unfortunately there was nothing nearby to tun her aground on, so he decided to disable the rudder. He kneeled, slashed the ship’s rudder cables with his poniard, and began to haul up the loose cabling. Rigging a new rudder cable ought to occupy Moonshark for a couple of hours at least, and by the time they were ready to pursue Geran and his companions, they’d have long since disappeared. “Go on back and get the longboat ready to launch—quietly!”

Hamil grinned at him. “Maybe this will work after all.” He dashed forward to the main deck, while Geran yanked length after length of the rudder cable up from below. Without her rudder, Moonshark’s bow began to fall off downwind, and she rocked a little as she passed through the swell.

Geran got the last of the rudder cabling that he could reach, picked up the tarry mess, and dropped it over the side. He brushed off his hands, hurried down the ladder to the main deck, and headed forward to help Hamil and Sarth wrestle the longboat over the side. This was by far the trickiest part of the whole business; lowering the longboat was a six-man job, not a three-man job, and it was nearly impossible to do it quietly. With sheer brute force they managed to lift it out of its cradle and stagger over to the rail, but not before the boat’s gunwales thumped the deck a couple of times. Geran winced, but they were getting close to the moment when speed would count more than stealth.

At the aft end of the main deck, the door to the captain’s cabin opened, and Narsk stepped out. The gnoll took in the scene at a glance, catching Geran and his friends with the longboat half in its davit. “What is this?” he snarled. Then he leaped over to the ship’s bell and began to strike it vigorously. “All hands on deck, now!” he shouted. “Trrreachery! All hands on deck!”

Despair paralyzed Geran for five heartbeats. “So close,” he muttered. The first pale glimmers of dawn were beginning to streak the sky to the

ease. In a matter of moments, the deck would be full of enemies. They wouldn’t live long enough to get the longboat in the water. He could see only one slender chance—to kill Narsk quickly and hope to cow or contain the rest of the crew long enough to make their escape.

Before he could second-guess himself, he dropped his end of the longboat. Moonshark rolled heavily under Geran’s feet, running clumsily before the wind with her helm spinning freely on the quarterdeck. “Guard my back!” he hissed to Sarth and Hamil. Then he drew the cutlass hidden under his cloak and charged across the deck at the pirate ship’s captain.

7 Marpenoth, The Year of the Ageless One (1479 DR)

You!” Narsk snarled. “It was you in my cabin in Mulmaster! I know your scent now, human!” The gnoll greeted Geran’s attack with a snarl of pure rage. He yanked out the mace he carried at his belt and drew a long, curved knife to meet the swordmage. Leaping aside from Geran’s first thrust, Narsk answered with a furious onslaught of whistling mace swings, using his long knife to protect himself when the mace’s weight left him out of balance and exposed.

Geran didn’t answer. He leaned away from the mace, parried a knife slash at his belly, and ducked low to cut Narsk’s legs out from under him. But the gnoll leaped over his slash with surprising agility. Narsk threw himself closer after Geran’s sword passed, and lunged for the swordmage’s neck with a snap of his powerful jaws. The swordmage fell back again and survived a knife thrust at his right side only because his spellwards deflected the blade. The tip of the blade gouged a bloody gash against his ribs, but it didn’t sink more than an inch or so into his flesh. The stab still knocked the breath out of him and left him. with warm blood trickling down his side, the wound throbbing in pain.

I need to end this quickly, he realized. Otherwise there would be no hope of escaping Moonshark.

With the instant, diamond-sharp focus he’d learned in Myth Drannor, Geran invoked a sword spell even as his steel flew to meet Narsk’s attack. “Arvan sannoghan!”he cried, and the pirate cutlass in his hand blazed with blue flames. Narsk swore and recoiled, but not before Geran slashed his knife out of his left hand, leaving the gnoll’s fur smoking.

Narsk snarled in pain. “Foul sorcery!” he shouted. “Kill him! Kill him now!

Geran risked a quick glance over his shoulder. Moonshark’s crew was boiling up out of their quarters under the main deck, most with knives, belaying pins, or boarding pikes in hand. They gaped at the spectacle of their captain fighting for his life then started to close in behind Geran— until Sarth raised his arms and wove a fence of lightning across the deck. “This is between Aram and Narsk!” he shouted. “No one else is to interfere!”

The corsairs halted, unsure about whether or not they should intervene, and were dissuaded in any event by the sudden revelation of Sarth’s magic. Narsk roared in fury when he realized that his crew would not cut down his challenger. “You miserable rrrats!” he screamed. “You will all pay for your cowardice!” He threw himself at Geran recklessly, pounding his mace against his foe with a furious barrage of overhand blows.

Geran parried or dodged the blows, although one carried through his block with enough power to drive the back of his cutlass—fortunately not sharpened—into his left shoulder, almost buckling him to the deck. Narsk snarled and redoubled his effort, but this time Geran deflected the mace past him and stepped aside. The gnoll was left off balance and stumbled forward as his mace head brushed the deck. Geran spun in the opposite direction and took off Narsk’s head with one clean cut to the back of the neck. The body crashed heavily to the deck, and the head rolled into the companionway leading down to the crew quarters, disappearing down the steps with several dull thuds.

A stunned silence fell over the crew of Moonshark. They stared down at Narsk’s body, and then they stared at Geran.

We lost the longboat, Geran, Hamil told him. The halfling stood next to Sarth, a pair of daggers in his hands. It slipped from the davit when the trouble started. I sincerely hope you have another plan in mind!

The Northman Skamang pushed his way to the front of the crew and fixed his eyes on Geran. The blue tattoos on his face seemed to writhe and jump in the flickering light of Sarth’s crackling, spitting barrier. “Where’s Sorsil? And Khefen?”

“Khefen’s passed out on the quarterdeck, dead drunk,” Geran answered. “Sorsil’s somewhere astern of us, floating in the water with a knife in her back.”

“Someone had better explain why the captain and first mate are dead and your friends were getting ready to launch the longboat,” Skamang said. He hefted a boarding axe in his hand. “And soon, at that.”

Murkelmor crossed his arms in front of his chest and scowled. “I’m wi’ Skamang,” the dwarf said. “I’d like t’ know what in th’ Nine Hells you’re about, Aram.”

Geran stared back at the two pirates and tried to think of something to say. He was not a good liar, and he knew it. Fortunately, Hamil knew it as well, and the halfling had a knack for thinking quickly in situations such as this. Blame it on Sorsil! That’s the best chance I can see, the halfling said to him. Geran glanced over and found Hamil kneeling by Narsk’s body, quietly checking the gnoll’s pockets.

The halfling offered a small shrug and nodded in the direction of the rest of the crew. I thought I’d better have a look, he said. There was a letter in Narsk’s pocket. I’ve got it now.

The swordmage frowned and returned his attention to the pirates confronting him. He let the point of his cutlass drop. “It was Sorsil,” he said. “She came up on deck and ordered us to put the longboat over the side. It seemed strange to me, but she didn’t explain herself, and Khefen was dead drunk. Then she went to the quarterdeck and sabotaged the rudder. I caught her at it and tried to stop her. Narsk came out of his cabin just in time to see Sorsil knifed and knocked over the rail.”