know what pirates are really good at, Pinn?’ she said. ‘Being pirates. And that’s all. In fact, if you asked me what would happen if you took a thousand pirates and asked them to build a town, I’d say it would look pretty much like this. This place was better as a legend. The real thing doesn’t work.’
‘Let me put it this way, Pinn,’ said Frey. ‘Do you want to get hanged, or don’t you?’
Pinn examined the question for a trick. ‘No?’ he ventured.
‘It’s either you or this place. Orkmund’s working for Duke Grephen, remember? And Grephen wants all of us dead. You too, Pinn.’
Pinn opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again, and then gave up trying to argue. ‘Lisinda would never get over it if anything happened to me,’ he said.
‘Think how proud she’ll be when she learns you single-handedly triumphed over an army of pirates,’ Malvery beamed.
‘I suppose I could dress it up a little,’ Pinn mused. ‘Alright, spit on this place. Let’s get out of here and stab some backs!’
‘That’s the spirit!’ Frey said cheerily.
Back at the Ketty Jay, Frey issued instructions for take-off and made sure Slag was trapped in the mess so some unlucky volunteer - Pinn - could force a mouth filter on him during the journey back. Silo was showing Frey some superficial damage to the underwings when Olric, the dock master’s assistant, wandered up to them.
‘Leaving, are you?’
‘Just got an errand to run,’ said Frey. ‘Orkmund says it’ll be a few days yet, so . . .’ he shrugged.
‘You gotta sign out.’
‘I was just about to. Be over there in a minute.’
Olric ambled away again. Frey asked Silo to fetch Crake from inside, and the daemonist came down the cargo ramp shortly after.
‘You needed me?’
‘You and Jez sort things out last night?’ he asked.
Crake didn’t meet his eye. ‘As best we could.’
Frey wasn’t encouraged. ‘Can you come with me to the dock master’s office? I need to sign out before we fly.’
Crake gave him a puzzled look. ‘Two-man job, is it?’
‘Actually, yes. I need you to distract the dock master. I mean really distract him. You think you can do the thing with the tooth?’
‘I can try,’ said Crake. ‘Did he strike you as particularly smart or quick-witted?’
‘Not really.’
‘Good. The less intelligent they are, the better the tooth works. It’s the smart ones that cause all the problems.’
‘Don’t they always?’ Frey commiserated, as he led the daemonist across the landing pad.
‘What are you up to, anyway?’ Crake asked.
‘Taking out a little insurance,’ replied Frey, with a wicked little smile.
