Richard Byers - The Reaver

The wizard scowled. “And it might have been more ‘sporting’ for you to win your gold attacking cogs and round ships like pirates are supposed to.”

“I imagined the lad would be older, and likely a lunatic or charlatan who wasn’t doing anybody any good … but as we’re being honest, I’ll confess it wouldn’t have mattered if I had known the truth. Evendur’s offering a lot of gold. Which, given that Stedd is now in the hands of your fellow Thayans, I suppose has now passed beyond my reach. Unless, of course, you care to help me pluck the boy from Kymas’s clutches. You, I, and Falrinn can split the bounty three ways, after which you can live out your days in luxury as a genuine expatriate.”

Umara hesitated just long enough to make him wonder if she was actually considering the proposition. “I’m afraid not. My family is Thayan nobility going back for centuries. I know my path, even if … That is to say, I know my path, and it isn’t treason.”

“Even though your superior left you behind in Westgate?”

“With the sunlords pursuing us, he set sail as expeditiously as possible to safeguard the success of our mission. It was just what I should have expected of him, and I don’t hold it against him.”

Anton suspected that wasn’t wholly true. But he also sensed that pursuing the matter wouldn’t subvert her loyalty. “Well,” he said, “in any case, I can’t honestly recommend treason as the gateway to a happy life.”

“How’s that?”

“Nothing.” He raised the spyglass and scanned the seas before them, meanwhile reflecting that truth was overrated. He and Umara had only been indulging in it for a few breaths, and, ridiculously, here it was already trying to rekindle regrets grown cold long ago.

He didn’t see any ships, Thayan or otherwise. When he lowered the telescope and turned back around, it annoyed him a little that the wizard appeared to be studying him. But if her scrutiny had afforded any insights, she didn’t see fit to remark on them.

Rather, she simply said, “If you and Captain Greatorm get me back aboard the galley, I’ll see to it that Kymas pays you for your trouble. It won’t be a fortune like Evendur Highcastle’s bounty.” She smiled a crooked smile. “As you’ve already observed, my master plainly doesn’t consider me indispensable. But I am a Red Wizard of Thay, and it will be something.”

He wondered if she truly believed he’d settle for that. She might if she didn’t know his reputation for boldness and relentless pursuit of an objective. But even if she didn’t believe it, the suggestion was a reasonable tactic given that, landlubber that she was, she needed Anton and Falrinn to sail the boat. Better, then, to come to a false accord now and defer a fight until they caught up with the other Thayans.

And, Anton realized, pretending to agree to her offer now and saving hostilities for later made just as much sense for him. She knew what Kymas’s ship looked like. He didn’t. Her magic might prove useful as they pursued it. And if she truly did believe he was willing to settle for whatever payment Kymas might offer, she’d presumably prevail on her superior to welcome him aboard the Thayan ship, which should simplify the task of spiriting Stedd off it.

He sighed with what he hoped was a convincing imitation of resignation. “Whatever your master is willing to pay for you, I suppose it will have to do.”

Throughout the morning, a favorable wind carried them eastward. Meanwhile, fiddling with his various mechanisms, Falrinn repeatedly trimmed the sails and reset the rudder. Umara, whose curiosity apparently outweighed any tendency to aristocratic aloofness, alternately pestered the gnome with questions about his innovations and sought to make conversation with her fellow human.

For his part, Anton found that he didn’t much mind the distraction. Trustworthy or not-almost certainly not-she was pleasant enough to talk to. Perhaps it was because she had manners and an education, even though acquired in her sinister necromantic homeland, and it had been a long while since he’d conversed with a lady. Generally, the reaver’s life restricted his choice of womanly companions to festhall bawds and female pirates as coarse as … well, he supposed, as coarse as he himself was.

He pointed out landmarks when the mainland became visible, despite the grayness and the rain, and taught Umara to fish with trailing lines. They grilled the sea bass and dolphinfish they caught, and ate them at dusk.

Afterward, they returned to the bow and Anton peered out into the moonless, starless blackness hoping to spot another vessel’s lanterns. Sitting beside him, Umara asked, “Why do you even need to chase Stedd?”

Anton snorted. “I thought we covered that. For the coin.”

“But why do you need any more treasure?” She tugged her hood down in an effort to keep the rain out of her face. “I mean, I know why my family has a proud name and little else. The great War of the Zulkirs devastated much of Thay, and it certainly blighted our land. And in the decades since, Szass Tam hasn’t much concerned himself with providing opportunities for folk who are still alive. But you …”

“But I’m Anton Marivaldi. The madman who plundered the spice fleet out of Telflamm. The fiend who burned the harbor at Delthuntle. Why is it I’m not already rich as a merchant prince and long retired from the sea?”

“Well … I wasn’t going to say ‘madman’ or ‘fiend.’ But yes.”

He shook his head. “It’s a good question. Somehow, the coin and gems always run through my fingers in a heartbeat. Cormyr could fight Sembia for a year on the treasure I’ve squandered standing drinks for taverns full of rogues who’d knife me for a shaved copper. Maybe it’s because I can’t imagine going away and living a different life.”

“Is being a pirate truly all that grand?”

He thought about it. “No. Not really. But it’s what there is. For me.”

Her tone wistful, Umara said, “I can understand that.”

The sailboat bucked almost like a horse as it met the waves, but as she gazed into the dark and the rain, Umara no longer feared being bounced around on her bench or, worse, being bounced overboard. After several days at sea, she was accustomed to the motion of the vessel.

In fact, she was surprised at how relaxed she was in general. At first, a mage’s disciplined patience notwithstanding, she’d experienced bouts of frustration that a galley that had left port only shortly before Falrinn’s sailboat should prove so elusive. But it wasn’t long before impatience faded, and resignation that actually felt rather peaceful took its place.

She supposed it was because there was nothing she could do to influence the outcome of events. She needed to rejoin Kymas and participate in the final phase of their mission. It was both her duty and the only way she’d receive any measure of the credit for its successful completion. But Falrinn and Anton were the mariners, not she, and they’d catch the galley when they caught it. Meanwhile, for essentially the first time since the start of her adolescence, she had no responsibilities and no walking dead man of a teacher or superior ordering her around. Certainly, her two current companions made for pleasanter company, and she hoped she wouldn’t have to kill them when her time aboard the sailboat came to an end.

Falrinn, she thought, might well be content to accept whatever payment Kymas was willing to offer and go away. The gnome was a practical sort. Anton, however, had a reputation for recklessness, and that accorded with her own impression of him. He might well make another play for Stedd no matter what the odds against him.

She told herself that if he did, he would have only his own stubborn folly to blame for what ensued, but that didn’t make her feel any happier about the prospect. Frowning, she resolved to think about something else, and then a point of orange light appeared and disappeared in the darkness off the port bow, like a firefly that had only chosen to glow once.