Richard Baker - Corsair

The Keeper of Duties bowed slightly. “As you wish, my lord harmach. Lord Geran, the floor is yours.”

Geran stood and walked around the table to stand in the open end of the horseshoe, clasping his hands behind his back. He looked around the table, brow creased as if he were trying to decide where to start. Then he said, “I’m afraid that other troubles are on our doorstep, good sirs. Three days ago, while riding home from Thentia, I came across a pirate vessel that had captured a Sokol ship. They were drawn up in a cove a few miles east of the ruins at Gazzeth. The pirates were plundering the Sokol cargo. They’d already dealt with all the crew and passengers, save one.” He went on to tell a tale of spying on the pirates, giving details of the pirate ship and her crew and then matter-of-factly describing his rescue of a daughter of the Sokols out from under the noses of her captors. “I can only guess that they’re lying in wait along our trade routes,” he finished. “Any ship sailing to or from Hulburg is in danger.”

“A grim tale indeed,” said Theron Nimstar. He was the city’s High Magistrate, an old servant of the harmach with a stout body, heavy jowls, and a keen mind. “You are to be commended for saving Lady Sokol. That was a bold stroke.”

Most likely the pirates were all dead drunk by that point, Rhovann thought. He knew he shouldn’t underestimate Geran Hulmaster’s talents, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if a dolt like Maroth Marstel couldn’t have saved the girl in those circumstances. Well, it was no matter. Rhovann had heard the rumors within hours of Geran’s return, so he’d expected this report for two days now, and he was ready to reply. Keeping his gaze directed toward the swordmage, Rhovann concentrated on Maroth Marstel, sitting next to him. Now, Marstel , he said silently. Speak .

“I’ve something to say,” Maroth Marstel rumbled.

Ilkur nodded to Marstel. “The floor is yours, my lord.”

The old lord rose slowly to his feet. “Piracy in our waters is intolerable! The Merchant Council demands action to protect our trade against the depredations of pirates. The Sokol ship makes five lost in the last three months. We are being ruined by these murderous attacks! The lost cargoes are bad enough, but need I remind the council that dozens-no, scores-of our sailors have been slaughtered mercilessly?” Marstel banged his meaty fist on the table, warming up to his customary volume. In truth, he needed little coaching from Rhovann in bombast; all the elf mage had had to do was throw the old fool an issue to fire his imagination. “We’re pouring a fortune into city walls to deter an enemy that we have already defeated, while we are being pillaged on the high seas! I know of three merchant companies that cannot afford to lose one more cargo. They’ll be ruined in the next attack-and if our merchant companies fail, then they’ll no longer pay the harmach to cut his timber, they’ll no longer pay the good folk of Hulburg for their work, and they’ll no longer sell their wares in our streets! Disaster sails toward us, my lords and ladies, with cutlasses dripping blood and corpses in its wake, and yet we have done nothing! So when does the harmach intend to take action?”

Ilkur did not answer immediately, nor did anyone else. Perhaps they weren’t sure if Marstel had meant the last question to be rhetorical or not. Rhovann hid a smile. The last bit about cutlasses and corpses was pure Marstel bombast; the old man had been caught up in his own topic, as Rhovann had expected he might be.

Harmach Grigor sighed and looked at the old noble. “Lord Marstel, what would you have us do?”

“Sweep these corsairs from the Moonsea, and secure our livelihood!”

“In case it escaped my lord’s attention, I do not command a navy,” Grigor answered.

“Then you must begin outfitting warships immediately. The Merchant Council insists on nothing less.”

“Navies are expensive,” Wulreth Keltor objected. He was the Keeper of Keys, the official who looked after the harmach’s treasury. Rhovann found him a sour and querulous old man. “We cannot simply wish one into existence, Lord Marstel!”

“Nevertheless, if the harmach will not see to the safety of our commerce, then the Merchant Council will take steps to do so under its own authority,” said Marstel. “It is a matter of self-defense!”

Grigor’s eyes narrowed. Clearly he recognized the danger to his authority implicit in Marstel’s threat. Only a few months ago he’d almost been unseated by the Merchant Council under the leadership of his treacherous nephew Sergen. “You are welcome to arm your ships as you like and crew them with whatever guards you can afford,” he said. “But you have no authority to act in my place, Marstel. I am charged with the defense of this realm, not you.”

“I hesitate to suggest it,” Deren Ilkur said, “but is there some arrangement that can be made? Bribing the pirates to let our ships pass unmolested might be less costly than outfitting warships to deter them.”

“That leaves a bad taste in my mouth,” Geran Hulmaster said. The swordmage shook his head. “Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but those arrangements have a way of growing more expensive over time. And you’d still lose ships every so often, because you can’t bribe every pirate on the Moonsea.”

“If bribery isn’t an option, then how can we best defend our sea trade?” Burkel Tresterfin asked. “Can we guard the merchant coster ships with detachments of Shieldsworn? Or do we do as Lord Marstel suggests and build warships?”

“We don’t have Shieldsworn enough to man every ship sailing from Hulburg,” Kara Hulmaster said. She leaned back in her chair, thinking. “For that matter, even if we could afford to build warships, I don’t know how we could crew them. It would take at least two or three well-armed vessels to secure the waters near Hulburg. We would need several hundred sailors and soldiers.”

“Impossible,” Wulreth Keltor said. “We haven’t the treasury.”

“So we can’t afford a navy, and we don’t believe bribery is the answer. What is left to us, then?” the magistrate Nimstar asked.

No one spoke for a long moment. Rhovann nodded to himself. Even if the Hulburgans had settled on building a navy, it would take too long and cost too much to interfere with his designs. “There are other cities on the Moonsea that maintain fleets,” he said into the silence. “Perhaps we could ask Mulmaster or Hillsfar for protection?”

“That may prove more costly than building our own fleet,” Harmach Grigor said. “If we surrender our sovereignty for the protection of a larger city, we will never recover it. I consider that the last alternative.”

Rhovann willed Marstel to silence. He’d intended to catch the harmach in exactly this predicament, forcing him to choose between embarking on an expensive and most likely impractical scheme of fleet-building or weakening his authority by begging for another city’s help. Either way the harmach opened himself to sharp criticism. The disguised elf leaned forward to speak. “In that case, my lord harmach, I must add my concerns to Lord Marstel’s. What do you intend to do?”

Grigor Hulmaster gazed at the squares of blue sky outside the great hall’s tall windows. He might have been old and frail, but he was not stupid; he could see the dilemma confronting him. “It must be a fleet, then,” he finally said. “We’ll purchase a couple of suitable hulls in Hillsfar or Melvaunt and bring them back to Hulburg for fitting out. For the crew, I suppose we’ll have to hire mercenaries.”

“Two ships may not be enough to protect our sea trade,” Kara said. “Even if you assume that each can remain at sea half the time, it’s only one ship on patrol on any given day.”