Richard Baker - Corsair

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.”