The captain’s head swiveled toward the dartboard. “Wouldn’t have thought anyone could best you at darts.”
Nightfall finally looked at his handiwork. The knife had embedded in the target dead center, a perfect bull’s-eye. More surprised than proud, he tried to appear nonchalant. Countless years and hours of practice had given him that killer aim. “I wouldn’t have either.” He drew his hands together on the edge of the table. “I thought I was unbeatable, but that man is good.”
“Won’t argue with you there.” The captain’s pallid eyes held a strange spark Nightfall did not, at first, recognize. It looked vividly familiar. He had seen that same excitement in another not long ago. Nightfall only had to place it.
“Will you take me there?”
The captain dodged a direct answer, still gathering information. “How much?”
Nightfall knew he should expect pirates to have their minds always on money, but the captain had seemed so sincere in his desire to atone to Sudian for his men’s behavior that Nightfall had not expected the question to arise. He still had nine silvers in Kelryn’s pouch and intended to keep all of them. “He said you would do it for nothing. That you owed him a big favor of exactly this sort.”
The captain made a noncommittal gesture.
“Nearly all my profits are tied up,” Nightfall continued, “but I’ve traveled enough to watch plenty of sailors. Your ship needs some attention from what I’ve seen and heard, and I think I can fix her. Also, it wouldn’t hurt to train your . . .” He cast a disdainful glance at the crew. “. . . sailors to pay some mind to maintenance.”
The captain nodded, chewing on his lower lip. “I’ll accept your offer, merchant. But when I asked ‘how much,’ I meant the amount of trade goods you planned to bring along. How much space you might be wanting.”
Nightfall had no intention of burdening himself with anything, but he knew better than to sail empty-handed after taking a merchant’s guise. “I’m short of cash, so I won’t be taking much.”
“Too bad,” the captain grunted. “Things ought to sell well there, what with so few ships coming in.”
“Yes.” Nightfall tried to sound disappointed. “Luck never seems with me at the right times.” Despite his statement, he pressed. “So, any chance you could take me to Hartrin once I’ve finished my business in Alyndar?”
The captain’s dark brows rose nearly to his scalp. “You’ve got gall, merchant.”
Nightfall wiggled his still-intact fingers on the tabletop. “I thought I’d already proved that.”
“The kind of gall that gets a man killed.”
Nightfall prepared for a fight, though he gave no outward sign of it. He turned the captain a searching look. “Today?”
“Not today.” The captain’s face remained locked in a hard expression, but he made no move to carry through on any threat. “You caught me in a good mood, merchant. And with a favor unpaid. We’ll take you to Alyndar, and your assistance will buy you passage back here. Anything further will require payment.”
Nightfall shot back easily, “Half the profits on any goods I sell.”
“Deal.” For the second time, Nightfall and the pirate’s captain came to an agreement.
For Softra’s sake, Nightfall added, “And you and your men find an earlier bedtime so this poor innkeeper and his wife can get a bit of sleep before breakfast.”
Nightfall anticipated anger but got a brilliant smile instead. “You drive a very hard bargain.”
“Been a merchant all my adult life.” Nightfall returned the grin and added a wink. It suddenly occurred to him where he had seen that sparkle before, in the eyes of the Delforian healer when she had caressed him to excitement. “Should I meet you at the ship come morning?”
The captain looked out over his men, most of whom had sobered during the long conversation that would clearly send them back out to sea with money still unspent in their pockets. “Make it just past midday. My men need their sleep, too.”
“Very well.” Though many of his personae had friends, Nightfall would never have believed someone like Sudian could win the hearts of so many. His last encounter with the pirate captain had seemed a bit pat, worrisomely easy. Now, he understood. He had known the captain admired Sudian’s dexterity and cleverness in a crisis, but he had not realized the depth of that appreciation.
Nightfall had a knack for reading the intentions of others, one that had kept him alive since early childhood; but he struggled with those of the pirate captain. The women of a thousand villages might squabble for the chance to marry a man of such exquisite beauty and genteel manner, yet he had chosen life on the sea with a band of raucous, murderous bandits instead. When Nightfall put those details together with the glimmer in the captain’s eye when discussing the subject of Sudian, he had to consider the possibility the captain had fallen in love—or lust—with the same romantic expectations as the healer. Some parts of the world accepted men coupling with other men, but most found it reason for disgrace. Nightfall wondered if the captain’s fall from nobility had to do with his sexual preferences. If so, he had clearly trained to become a knight or warrior commander prior to his exile.
Nightfall shook his head, suspecting he had read way too much into a single look. He knew better than to construct a detailed scenario out of scraps, then rely on it, only to have it shatter at the most inopportune time. Nevertheless, he could not help wondering what the persona of Sudian had that the others lacked, what made him so dangerously attractive. He only hoped Kelryn had succumbed to the same eerie power, and that she would never escape it.
Nightfall appreciated the thick-walled sleeping rooms of the Gold Lantern Inn that kept him oblivious to the snores and odors of the captain’s uncouth crew, though it left him without distraction from a bothersome jumble of thought. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon him, yet sleep remained at bay. Repeatedly, he questioned his strategy, weighing his options until they warped into a storm of doubts. On the surface, it seemed more logical to sail directly to Hartrin, to do everything possible to bring himself nearer to Edward as swiftly as possible. Deeper contemplation dispelled the notion. He had no way of knowing whether the king remained where his captors had initially taken him; Nightfall had traveled half the world and back in the same amount of time. Furthermore, he had nothing to go on upon arrival in the northwestern kingdom. He could no longer access his information sources, and he had used up all of his favors the previous day.
Except one.
Nightfall continued to analyze his reason for choosing to return to Alyndar now. He wanted to let Kelryn know where he planned to go. More significantly, she might have come upon knowledge that could prove vital, including Edward’s location, the details of this civil war, and any progress toward discovering the traitor. Nightfall had tipped Volkmier to hunt for Alyndar’s betrayer, yet he had not fully considered the implications of the commander’s success. Though shrewder than most fighting men, Volkmier might not take into account the far-reaching consequences of actions that appeared proper to his honor and training. Once alerted, the Council seemed certain to activate the military, which Nightfall knew from his darker experiences would assure Edward’s death. At the very least, Kelryn would have some information that could help Nightfall avoid the manhunt for Alyndar’s chancellor. Rumors of his condition and whereabouts would surely have trickled back to the castle.
Nightfall tried to pacify himself with logic that seemed strong and sound, but he could not quite shake the concern he might be rationalizing. He desperately wanted to see Kelryn again, to assure himself of her safety and quell any worries she might have for him. He had promised to keep her apprised of his mission, and just sending a coded message did not seem like enough.
Nightfall flopped on his pallet, the most comfortable bed he had managed to find since leaving Alyndar with King Edward on their diplomatic mission. Gradually, he dropped into the familiar light doze that managed to refresh while holding him poised on the barest edge of awakening. Despite his many worries, he spent a dreamless night.
The pirates arrived to prepare their ship well after midday and on toward evening. By then, Nightfall had secured his costume, trade goods, and necessities, and had freshly caulked the neediest planks. The captain appeared first. Without a word, he assisted with the task, burnished teeth gleaming like fresh snowfall through a taut smile. Clearly, it was not a job his men took on with glee or even stoic pride; and he apparently appreciated Nightfall’s honest efficiency.
Individually or in small groups, the others arrived, most disheveled and reeking of the night’s revelry. They pounded onto the deck without offering to help and settled into the necessary duties that preceded a launch. They knew enough about sailing to check and affix the sails and ready the proper lines and stays. Some assessed the winds. Others prepared the galley. A few scrambled into ratlines and riggings to assure everything remained in order. Cleanliness, however, seemed beyond their ken. They overlooked decks smeared with filth; mollusks and barnacles peppered the hull.
Ignoring the niceties did allow the ship to leave its mooring sooner; and, before Nightfall had finished his task, they skimmed out over the open sea. Wind whipping his neatly brushed hair into a tangle more familiar to other personae, Nightfall watched the coastline disappearing in the ship’s wake. The time for consideration had passed. He now headed directly into the clutches of a country hell-bent on killing him, yet he knew it was the last thing Alyndar would expect. Ships coming into Alyndar would draw far less scrutiny than those leaving port. Since he arrived with the pirates, Alyndar’s inspectors would think nothing of his departing with them.
Leaving the sailing to the pirates, Nightfall gathered his belongings. He had bought his trade goods in the late hours of morning, visiting shops, individuals, and markets he knew as Balshaz. Funds and space limited his purchases. He stuck with spices, cosmetics, and southern-crafted gewgaws, several clothing items by a Schizian seamstress with a delicate touch, and the tar and rope needed for patching. He passed up an expensive glass piece he would have loved to give Kelryn, a swan to replace the one he had shattered when he had believed her his traitor. It would have used up nearly all his ready money, hers to begin with; and he would not steal more while in the guise of scrupulously honest Balshaz.
“Why don’t you take those things to my cabin?” The captain’s voice startled Nightfall, though he did nothing to show it.
Nightfall swung the satchel full of items to his shoulder. “Your pardon, sir?”
Dressed in his usual bright silks and boots, the captain explained, “Bring your trade goods aft.” He jerked a thumb toward the poop deck. “They’re safe in my cabin. Anything left out might disappear. My men aren’t known for their trading savvy and patience.”
No,
Nightfall agreed.
For slaughter and theft.
He kept the thought to himself and followed the captain aft. He did not need to deal with pirates taking or destroying his gear, not when their sale was supposed to buy his passage to Hartrin.
“You’re welcome to bunk with me, too, Balshaz.” The captain paused to lift the hatch and waved Nightfall through the opening.
Nightfall had years of experience sleeping among sweaty, snoring sailors. Exposed on the deck, he would also have to weather the elements; and the fresh caulk would show up as dense, black stripes across his back. No merchant would feel comfortable in those circumstances; to refuse would put his disguise in jeopardy. “A generous offer, Captain, thank you. But is there room?”
The captain’s tone held pent up laughter. “Three unused bunks enough for you? Being captain has to have some privileges, or who would take the job?”
The captain had answered his own question in Schiz when he mentioned the civil war in Alyndar. Clearly men would kill themselves and their followers for the honor of leading a nation. Though far fewer, surely some would do so to take command of a ship as well.
Nightfall tossed his bag into the darkness, then shinnied down the rungs to the lower deck. He waited for the captain to snatch a lantern from a gimbal ring, light it, and lead the way through the galley, a storage room, and a mate’s quarters to an area separated from the others by a door. The captain shoved that open to reveal a long, narrow berth, its neatness contrasting sharply with the rest of the ship. The forward portion contained a desk with a tidy stack of papers, a wooden sofa softened with a pallet, and a worn dresser with a pitcher and bowl on top. Beyond it, separated by a drawn curtain, the high-ceilinged area just below the elevated poop deck held two stacked bunks, a chair, a wardrobe, and an ironbound chest. An enormous window took up most of the back wall. Rafts of bubbles and swirling green slime churned past. The open wall space held paintings of fish and ships in gilded frames.
“Put your things here.” The captain pointed at a spot near the dresser.
Nightfall flopped his bag into the indicated space, still taking in the details of the room.
“Come to a decision?” the captain guessed.
Realizing he had never actually accepted or refused the captain’s offer, Nightfall nodded. He would get far better and safer sleep here than with the crew. “It’s very nice. Just let me know which bed’s mine and how to best stay out of your way.”
“I’ve got the bottom.” The captain smoothed the blankets on the lower of the stacked bunks. “You can have the top or sleep out there.” He tilted his head toward the padded couch. “If I’ve got the curtain drawn, you know to stay out.”
The arrangement pleased Nightfall. Not only did it maintain privacy, it gave him the area near the door to come and go without disturbing the captain. “The couch is just fine. And now, I think I’ll keep an eye on the crew, if you don’t mind. They don’t seem as concerned as I do about keeping this ship seaworthy.”