Scott Lynch - Red Seas Under Red Skies

"Turns out they was lucky," said Jabril. "They didn't have to take no share of this gods-damned place."

"The Fortunate Venture is riding at anchor in the Sword Marina," said Locke. "She's been rechristened the Red Messenger. Refurbished, resupplied, careened and smoked. She's been prettied up. The Archon means to take her into his service." "Good for the bloody Archon."

"I'm to command her," said Locke. "She's at my disposal. I have the keys, as it were." "What the fuck do you want, then?"

"It's half-past midnight," said Locke, lowering his voice to a stage whisper that echoed dramatically to the back of the cell. "Morning relief won't arrive for more than six hours. And every guard on the Windward Rock is… currently… unconscious."

The entire cell was full of wide eyes. Men heaved themselves up from their sleeping pallets and pressed closer to the bars, forming an unruly but attentive crowd. "I am leaving Tal Verrar tonight," said Locke. "This is the last time I will ever wear this uniform. I am quits with the Archon and everything he stands for. I mean to take the Red Messenger, and for that I need a crew."

The mass of prisoners exploded into a riot of shoving and jabbering. Hands thrust out at Locke through the bars and he stepped back. "I'm a topman," one of the prisoners yelled, "fine topman! Take me!" "Nine years at sea," hollered another,"… do anything!"

Jean stepped up and pounded on the cell door again, bellowing: "QUIIIIETTTT!"

Locke held up the ring of keys Jean had taken from the lieutenant in the entrance hall.

"I sail south on the Sea of Brass," he said. "I make for Port Prodigal. This is not subject to vote or negotiation. You sail with me, you sail under the red flag. You want off when we reach the Ghostwinds, you can have it. Until then, we're on the watch for money and plunder. No room for shirkers. The word is equal shares."

That would give them something to ponder, Locke thought. A freebooter captain more commonly took two to four shares from ten of any plunder got at sea. Just the thought of equal shares for all would quell a great many mutinous urges.

1 Equal shares," he repeated above another sudden outburst of babble. "But you make your decision here and now. Take oath to me as your captain and I will free you immediately. I have means to get you off this rock and over to the Red Messenger. We'll have hours of darkness to clear the harbour and be well away. If you don't want to come, fine. But no courtesies in that case. You'll stay here when we're gone. Maybe the morning relief will be impressed with your honesty… but I doubt it. Who among you will desist? None of the prisoners said anything. "Who among you will go free, and join my crew?"

Locke winced at the eruption of shouts and cheers, then allowed himself a wide, genuine grin.

"All gods as your witness!" he shouted. "Upon your lips and upon your hearts." "Our oath is made," said Jabril, while those around him nodded.

"Then stand upon it or pray to die, and be damned and found wanting on the scales of the Lady of the Long Silence." "So we stand," came a chorus of shouts. Locke passed the ring of keys over to Jean. The prisoners watched in an ecstasy of disbelief as he found the proper key, slid it into the lock and gave it a hard turn to the right.

"There is one problem," said Stragos. "Just one?" Locke rolled his eyes. "There are only forty left of the forty-four I selected." "How will that suit the needs of the ship?"

"We've got food and water for a hundred days with sixty," said Caldris. "And she can be handled well with half that number. Once we've got them sorted out, we'll do fine for hands at the lines."

"So you will," said Stragos. "The missing four are women. I had them placed in a separate cell. One of them developed a gaol-fever and soon they all had it. I had no choice but to move them to shore; they're too weak to lift their arms, let alone join this expedition."

"We're for sea with not a woman aboard," said Caldris. "Will not Merrain be coming with us, then?"

"I'm afraid," she said sweetly, "that my talents will be required elsewhere." "This is mad," cried Caldris. "We taunt the Father of Storms!" ^

"You can find women for your crew in Port Prodigal, perhaps even good officers." Stragos spread his hands. "Surely you'll be fine for the duration of a single voyage down."

"Would that it were mine to so declare," said Caldris, a haunted look in his eyes. "Master Kosta, this is a poor way to start. We must have cats. A basket of cats, for the Red Messenger. We need what luck we can steal. All gods as your witness, you must not fail to have cats aboard that ship before we put to sea." "Nor shall I," said Locke.

"Then it's settled," said Stragos. "Heed this now, Kosta. Concerning the… depth of your deception. In case you have any misgivings. None of the men you'll be taking from the Windward Rock have ever served in my navy, so they" ve little notion of what to expect from one of my officers. And soon enough you'll be Ravelle the pirate rather than Ravelle the naval captain, so you may tailor the impersonation as you see fit, and worry little over small details."

"That's good," said Locke. "I" ve got enough of those crammed into my head just now."

"I have one last stipulation," Stragos continued. "The men and women who serve at the Windward Rock, even those who are not party to this scheme, are among my finest and most loyal. I will provide means for you to disable them without rendering permanent harm. In no way are they to be otherwise injured, not by you nor your crew, and gods help you if you leave any dead." "Curious sentiments for a man who claims to be no stranger to risks."

"I would send them into battle at any time, Kosta, and lose them willingly. But none who wear my colours honestly are to die as part of this; that much my honour compels me to grant them. You are supposed to be professionals. Consider this a test of your professionalism."

"We're not bloody murderers," said Locke. "We kill for good reason, when we kill at all."

"So much the better," said Stragos. "That is all I have to say, then. This day is yours to do with as you see fit. Tomorrow evening, just before midnight, you'll land on the Windward Rock and start this business." "We need our antidote," said Locke. Jean and Caldris nodded.

"Of course. You three will get your last vials just before you leave. After that… I shall expect your first return within two months. And a report of your progress."

Locke and Jean managed a ragged muster of their new crew just inside the entrance hall. Jean had to demonstrate his physical strength to several men who attempted to vent their frustrations on the sleeping guards.

"I said you touch them at your peril," Locke snarled for the third time. "Let them be! If we leave them dead behind us, we'll lose all sympathy with anyone. Let them live, and Verrari will be laughing about this for months to come.

"Now," he said, "move out quietly to the dockside. Take your ease, stretch your legs, have a good long look at the sea and sky. I" ve a boat to fetch before we can be away. For the sake of us all, keep your mouths shut."

They mostly obeyed this admonition, breaking up into little whispering groups as they moved out of the tower. Locke noticed that some of the men hung back near the door, their hands on the stones, as though afraid to step out beneath the open sky. He couldn't say he blamed them after months or years in the vault.

"That's lovely," said Jabril, who fell into step beside Locke as they approached the dock where Caldris still paced with his lantern. "Fuckin" lovely. Almost as lovely as not having to smell us all at once." "You'll be crammed together again soon enough," said Locke. "Aye. Same but different."