Richard Baker - Corsair

“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.

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

S eadrake 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.”