Corsair botm-2 Read online

  “What drives you on?”

  “It’s certainly not any concern for Red Sail business.” Hamil Alderheart emerged from the passage leading under the quarterdeck to the officers’ cabins. The halfling wore a fine green doublet over a buff-colored shirt, with a matching cap to cover his long russet braids; for as long as Geran had known him, Hamil had prided himself on his elegant clothing. “Geran’s not much of a merchant. I did all the work, keeping the books and managing the buying and selling. He was really nothing more than a glorifed wagon driver. What brings you aboard Seadrake, my lady?”

  “Nimessa, this is my old comrade Hamil Alderheart. We adventured together in the Company of the Dragon Shield years ago and bought owners’ shares in the Red Sail Coster afterward,” said Geran. He’d only stayed a short time before his wanderlust led him to Myth Drannor, but Hamil had allowed him to buy back into the coster without a word of complaint when Geran returned to Tantras after his years in the coronal’s service. “Hamil, this is Nimessa Sokol, of House Sokol. She’s come to Hulburg to take over the Sokol concession here.”

  Hamil swept off his cap and bowed low before lifting Nimessa’s fingers to his lips. “I am charmed, my lady,” he said. “I see now why Geran took on a fleet of pirates for your honor. I would leap into a dragon’s gullet for one as beautiful as you!”

  Geran looked down to hide a smile. Hamil had never met a beautiful woman he could resist flattering, whether she stood a foot and a half taller than he or not. For her part, Nimessa laughed and blushed. “I thank you for the thought, Master Alderheart, but let’s hope that never becomes necessary!”

  I’m pleased to see you’ve rediscovered your eye for beauty, Hamil told Geran silently. He was a halfling of the ghostwise folk, and his people had the ability to speak without sound when they wanted to. If you won’t court this one, I will myself!

  Geran ignored his friend’s silent comments. “Nimessa found a sailing master for us,” he told Hamil. “A dwarf by the name of Andurth Galehand. He was sailing master of Seadrake for years.”

  “Good,” said Hamil. “But I’m surprised you’d take on a Veruna man. Or dwarf.”

  “It was five years ago, and he seems to know Seadrake. Besides, he’s a dwarf, not a Mulmasterite. The Verunas don’t keep other folk in their confidences.” Andurth was likely paid well, but he would have been given little authority or scope for action in pursuing the company’s interests. That was one of House Veruna’s weaknesses; they treated their hired hands like not-quite-trusted servants and kept the best coin and real authority for Mulmasterites with blood ties to the family.

  “We still need a half-dozen sailors and a few more armsmen,” the halfling said. “And we could use a pilot.”

  “House Sokol will see to your deckhands,” Nimessa told Hamil. “I’m certain I can find a few skilled armsmen for you too.”

  “Don’t worry about a pilot,” Geran said. “It’s been a few years, but I know the Moonsea well enough, and it seems our sailing master does too. I’ll handle the navigation.”

  “If you get lost or run us up on a reef, I’ll remind you that you said that,” Hamil replied. “Oh, and one more thing: Initiate Mother Mara sent word that she’s directed a young friar named Larken to sign on as the ship’s curate. He’s supposed to be here tomorrow.”

  “That’s almost everyone, then,” Geran said. “I’m impressed, Hamil. I never would have imagined that you could gather a crew that quickly.”

  The halfling shrugged. “It wasn’t my doing, Geran. When word got out that you’d be fitting out, people started lining up to sign on with you.”

  “How many will you sail with?” Nimessa asked.

  “Well, Seadrake needs about twenty seamen to handle her comfortably,” Geran answered. “But we also need a large number of armsmen to deal with the pirates we hope to catch, so we’ll have well over a hundred, counting the Shieldsworn and merchant House mercenaries.”

  “Is that enough to deal with Kraken Queen?”

  Geran allowed himself a predatory grin. “Oh, yes. If I can find her, I can finish her. It’s just a matter of tracking her down.”

  “Good hunting, then.” Nimessa stepped close and brushed her lips to Geran’s cheek. “I must be going. I still have much to put in order in our tradeyard.” Then she drew back, nodded to Hamil, and made her way back down the gangway to her waiting armsmen and carriage. The driver tapped his reins, and the carriage rolled away.

  Geran gazed after the coach. Absently he lifted his hand to his cheek.

  “I think that young woman is fond of you,” Hamil remarked. “I suppose it’s understandable. You have an unfair advantage, since you gallantly saved her from a fate worse than death. Damn the luck!”

  The swordmage shook his head. “I don’t know. Even if you’re right, well, how many times can I rescue her from pirates?”

  Hamil rolled his eyes. “Trust me, Geran. It’s a good start.”

  Geran tried to put Nimessa Sokol out of his mind. He looked over at the carpenters engaged with the work on the mainmast. The stepping of the mast was almost finished, but it would take hours to rig the stays, the braces, and the heavy tackle for the sails. “There isn’t much more we can do here. I need to check on the provisioning order at Erstenwold’s.”

  “A fine suggestion,” Hamil said. They paused to speak with Worthel, the ship’s first mate-a wiry Red Sail shipmaster of middle years from Tantras, one of a dozen Red Sails who’d volunteered to sail under the harmach’s banner. After advising him to keep an eye open for Galehand, Geran and Hamil left him to oversee the rest of the mast repairs and headed down the gangplank to the crowded wharves of Hulburg.

  Compared to some of the other cities on the Moonsea, Hulburg was small and rustic. Laborers from a variety of foreign lands almost outnumbered the native Hulburgans. As they walked north up Plank Street, Geran and Hamil passed dwarves in their heavy boots and iron hauberks, Melvauntians and Thentians in the doublets and squared caps that were the fashion in those cities, and all sorts of clerks and scribes and armsmen in the colors of the various merchant companies who had concessions in Hulburg. In the ten years Geran had been away in the southern lands, Hulburg had filled up and overflowed. Even after five months he was still getting used to the sights and sounds of this bustling, broad-shouldered trade-town that had mysteriously replaced the sleepy little town of his youth.

  They passed several groups of foreign laborers standing around on corners or waiting by storefronts-waiting for work, or so Geran guessed. People came to Hulburg from all over the Moonsea to seek their fortunes, since the timber camps and mines of the foothills offered a chance to earn a wage. They were poor, desperate men, gaunt and hollow-eyed, with tattered cloaks and threadbare clothing. Some had spent their whole lives drifting from one city to another, wandering Faerun in search of some place to call home.

  When they crossed Cart Street, Geran noticed a commotion to his right. A band of a dozen dirty men in ragged cloaks marched down the center of the street, pushing other passersby aside. Most carried cudgels or short staves, with knives or short swords thrust through their belts. Their left hands were wrapped in gray strips of cloth with a broad, sooty smear across the back of the hand. Townsfolk muttered and glared at them as they shoved through the crowds, but the ruffians paid them no mind.

  Geran tapped Hamil’s shoulder to get his attention. “Cinderfists,” he said in low voice. “I don’t think I’ve seen them in the mercantile district before. What are they doing here?”

  “Looking for trouble, as far as I can tell,” Hamil answered. He looked around. “Just as well there aren’t any Moonshields nearby. I think we’d have front-row seats for a riot.”

  The two paused and watched the gang members pass. Most of the other people in the street hurried on by, avoiding the eyes of the Cinderfists and steering well clear of their path. Geran stood his ground, which earned him a few hostile glares from the ruffians. But he and Hamil were both well armed, and their clothes marked
them as men of high station; the Cinderfists either knew who Geran was, or weren’t quite so bold as to accost gentlemen in the middle of Hulburg’s trade district. Geran met the eyes of one Cinderfist, a tall, lank-haired fellow with bad teeth and a sallow cast. The man snorted as if amused by Geran’s attention and muttered something to his comrades as he sauntered past. Several snickered.

  I don’t like the look of the tall one, Hamil said silently. I’ve got half a mind to teach him some manners.

  “Leave him be for now,” Geran answered. “They’re not breaking any law of the harmach’s-not yet, at least.”

  A technicality, Hamil answered. But he smiled pleasantly at the ruffians and allowed them to continue on their way. The gray-cloaked men wandered on down Cart Street, leaving the two companions behind.

  “You’d think a dozen fellows like that ought to have some trade to practice in the middle of the day,” Geran said.

  Hamil nodded. “The Verunas employed hundreds. When the House pulled out of Hulburg, they just left their woodcutters and miners and drivers and the rest to fend for themselves. No wonder some of them have fallen in with the Cinderfist gang.”

  “What choice did the harmach have? He couldn’t let House Veruna stay after they helped Sergen in the attempt to unseat him.”

  “No, he couldn’t,” Hamil admitted. “Your uncle did what Darsi Veruna forced him to do. But until some more trade costers or merchant Houses take over Veruna camps, those Cinderfists won’t have anything to do other than stand around on street corners and trouble passersby.”

  “That isn’t so easy as it seems. Nimessa told me that House Veruna threatened retaliation against any other Moonsea companies that buy up their former rights.” Geran fell silent, thinking over the Cinderfist situation. His friend was right about the unintended consequences of House Veruna’s exile, but there was more to it than that. He’d also heard stories of Cinderfists threatening or beating other foreigners in search of work, pushing them to either join their movement or leave Hulburg and search for prospects elsewhere. A thought struck him, and he looked down at Hamil. “Have the Verunas threatened the Red Sails anywhere?”

  “Us?” Hamil shook his head. “No, I would’ve told you if I’d heard anything like that. You’re a stakeholder, after all. But if you want my guess, I’d say that the Verunas have already assumed we’re no friends of theirs.”

  “True enough.” Geran clapped Hamil on the shoulder. They walked on another half block and came to the sign for Erstenwold’s Provisioners, which hung above a large, somewhat ramshackle old wooden building. Several clerks and customers counted, haggled, or carried goods in and out of the store. Business had been good for the Erstenwold store in the months since House Veruna’s banishment from Hulmaster. No one was extorting native Hulburgan establishments anymore; the wary truce between the large foreign merchant companies and native Hulburgan establishments was holding. Only now there was the Cinderfist situation to complicate matters, Geran reminded himself.

  Geran and Hamil took the steps up to the old wooden porch and pushed their way into the store proper. A long wooden counter ran the length of the room on the right side, with a familiar clutter of stocked shelves and various pieces of tack and harness hanging on the walls. The uneven floorboards were worn to a glossy polish by decades of foot traffic, and dust motes drifted in the sunlight slanting through the windows. Geran had always liked the place; the old wood, the fresh leather, and the pipeleaf all blended into a rich, comfortable aroma. “Mirya?” he called.

  A tall, dark-haired woman with her hair tied back in a long braid looked up from her ledger-keeping at a small standing desk behind the counter. She wore a plain dress of blue wool and a stern expression on her face, but she smiled when she caught sight of them. She closed her ledger and came over to the coun-tertop. “Here to see to your order? It’s not even been two days, you know.”

  “The carpenters were about ready to throw Geran overboard,” Hamil answered. “We thought it might be best to let them oversee themselves for an hour or two.”

  “So you decided to trouble me instead?” Mirya snorted. “Well, you’ll be glad to hear that I’ve almost all of your ship’s goods laid aside in the storehouse. Provisions, canvas, plenty of line, bedding, lumber, casks of ale, spars, hand tools, oakum, pitch-here, come around the counter, and I’ll show you.”

  Geran and Hamil stepped around the long counter and followed Mirya into the storehouse that adjoined her shop. Large doors stood open to the street outside, allowing the afternoon light to stream in. Barrels and wooden crates lay stacked up in orderly rows on the dusty old floorboards. “I fear the harmach’s to pay dearly for all of this,” Mirya said. “To fill Seadrake’s hold in the time you gave me I had to pay half again what I should have. It was no help that all of Hulburg knew that I had to have your provisions as soon as they could be found.”

  “My uncle knows you wouldn’t cheat him,” Geran said. He paced down one of the aisles, glancing over the assembled material. It filled a substantial part of the Erstenwold storehouse, and Mirya’s clerks were wheeling in more tubs and barrels as he watched. It seemed hard to believe that it would all fit below the decks of the ship down by the old Veruna docks, but he knew from experience that ships could carry a lot more than one might expect. “I’m amazed you found this much in Hulburg in just the last two days. Is there anything important you couldn’t find?”

  “I’ve only half the canvas here that you should carry,” Mirya said. “I’ve sent word to provisioners in Thentia and Mulmaster-quietly, of course-to see if I can get my hands on more, but I doubt I’ll have it before you mean to set out. You’ll want to be careful of your sails.”

  “I hope your new sailing master knows his business,” Hamil said.

  Geran nodded. “The winter storms are still two months off. With good fortune, we won’t see any bad gales until after we’ve had a chance to fill the sail locker.” He looked over to Mirya. “I’ll have my crew send up a working party first thing in the morning. We’ll have most of this cleared out of your storehouse by suppertime tomorrow.”

  “We’ll be ready.” Mirya looked over the provisions and shook her head a little. “Strange to do business with you, Geran. All the years I’ve known you, and I have never thought of you as the sort of man who’d take an interest in it. You always seemed to be cut from a different sort of cloth.”

  “The indolent nobility? The brooding romantic?” Hamil asked. “I certainly don’t trust him with anything important for the Red Sails.”

  Geran laughed. It was true enough. “My thanks, Hamil.”

  “I didn’t mean I thought him too lazy for it,” Mirya said. “Too impatient, perhaps. Too anxious to be off to the next thing, whatever that happened to be. He used to be a hard one to keep anchored for long.”

  “Four years in Myth Drannor taught me a few things,” Geran said. He glanced down at the rose-shaped pommel and mithral wire of the sword hilt at his belt. He’d won it in the service of the coronal. Somehow he doubted that many of Ilsevele Miritar’s armathors had spent much time in storehouses such as Ersten-wold’s. “I suppose I’m not the man I used to be.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re a better man.” Mirya gave him a lopsided smile. “Selsha and I mean to see you off when you set sail. Take care of yourself while you’re chasing after pirates, Geran Hulmaster. I’m becoming used to having you around again.”

  “I will,” he promised her.

  FIVE

  19 Eleint, the Year of the Ageless One (1479 DR)

  Seadrake sailed on the morning tide three days after Geran’s visit to the Erstenwold storehouse. As promised, Mirya and her daughter, Selsha, came down to the wharves to see them off, along with a couple hundred prominent Hulburgans and curious onlookers, including Nimessa Sokol and Harmach Grigor, who was driven down from Griffonwatch in an open carriage. Geran enjoyed the fanfare until Hamil punctured his mood by pointing out that all of the Moonsea would know of Seadrake’s sailing within five
days. They wouldn’t be surprising any enemies for the foreseeable future.

  The breeze was light and fitful; the caravel nosed her way slowly past the spectacular Arches guarding Hulburg’s harbor. In the morning light the soaring columns of stone seemed to glow with an emerald luminescence. As Hulburg receded behind them, the breeze freshened and Seadrake began to throw back a small wave from her bow.

  “Master Galehand, make your course south by southwest,” Geran told the dwarf. “Hold that for an hour or so, and then bring her around to a northwesterly course. We’re going to keep in sight of land and work westward until we pass Thentia. I doubt Kraken Queen is still on this shore, but we might as well make sure she isn’t.”

  “Aye, Lord Geran,” the dwarf replied. He shouted orders at the sailors on deck, followed by colorful oaths in Dwarvish as the untried crew set about their work.

  Geran retreated to the lee side of the quarterdeck and left Galehand to supervise the watch, leaning against the rail to observe the crew at work while he considered his course. Sarth Khul Riizar climbed up onto the quarterdeck and glanced at the town falling into the distance behind them. The tiefling was an intimidating sight, with ruddy red skin and black horns sweeping back from his forehead. At his belt hung a long scepter of iron marked with golden glyphs. Geran knew they held powerful spells of battle and ruin; Sarth was a talented sorcerer. “Hardly any breeze to speak of,” Sarth observed. “We might as well have waited for better winds.”

  “I was anxious to begin.” Geran straightened up and clasped Sarth’s arm. “I’m glad you decided to join us, Sarth.”

  “It’s nothing.” Sarth shrugged. “I am happy to be of service, but I fear that I have no spells to summon a more favorable wind.” Five months ago Sarth had emerged as one of the heroes of the Battle of Lendon’s Dike. The people of Hulburg knew he’d battled furiously on their behalf, and few held his devilish appearance against him. From what little Geran had gathered of Sarth’s travels and adventures before his arrival in Hulburg, that was an unusual circumstance for the tiefling to find himself in.