“Understood. Now, try to understand that I’ve fought beside rough men and unbelievers in previous battles,” said Tower. “Against some foes, power is more important than purity. We could lead an army of ten thousand pilgrims up these slopes, and Greatshadow could kill them in a matter of seconds by unleashing an inferno. These scoundrels and heretics are survivors. I’m confident we have assembled the perfect team to defeat Greatshadow. I want you to feel this confidence also.”
Ver pressed his lips tightly together. “If I believed this to be a doomed enterprise, I wouldn’t have accepted your invitation to join. I’m not blind to the difference between principle and truth. I respect the power of the team you’ve assembled. We stand a good chance of success. But I cannot pretend that victory is certain.”
“I suppose I’ll have to settle for that,” said Tower.
“Yes, you shall. Go get the others,” said Ver, with a dismissive wave. “They’ll wonder what’s keeping you.”
Tower nodded, then shot back over the cliff side. I started to follow him, but was distracted by something I spotted out on the water. I raised my hand to shield my eyes from the sun, though, alas, it proved pointless, since the rays passed right through my spectral skin. As I got used to the light after the shade of the trees, there was no mistaking I was looking at a clipper ship, still a mile out, but heading toward the cliffs at a breakneck pace.
A few seconds later, I spotted Tower rising back up from the cave, now with Zetetic in tow. Tower sat the red-robed figure on a boulder facing Father Ver, then swung back out to grab another passenger.
“Nice little prayer you gave down there, Ver,” said Zetetic. “Did I detect a little bit of a guilty conscience in all that talk about whether you’re good enough for this mission? After all, given what you’ve done to me…”
“You’ve suffered nothing you haven’t earned,” said Father Ver. “Count each breath you draw as a blessing from the Divine Author. If I were the master of your fate, your bones would have long since been picked over by ravens.”
“No doubt. But, since a higher authority than you has seen to it I’m along for this journey, could you maybe try to be more courteous? Or at least try not to kick me in the head any more?” He rubbed the side of his skull for emphasis.
“I can make no such promise,” said Father Ver.
Zetetic shrugged. “I can’t be blamed for asking.”
No-Face was next up, followed by Reeker and Menagerie in the form of a parrot. I might not have recognized Menagerie among the other parrots flitting through the trees if not for his voice. “Looks like trouble,” the bird said, as it landed on No-Face’s shoulder. It pointed seaward with a wing.
By now, the ship had gotten much closer, and seemed to be heading directly for the pirate cave below.
“Suh hurs,” said No-Face.
I squinted. He was right. It was the Seahorse, a pirate ship. I could even see Captain Stallion on the deck, in case there had been any doubt. Stallion is a distinctive figure. He looks like a half-seed, but is really just a man’s torso jammed onto the body of a donkey, though he tells everyone his equine parts are prize-winning stallion. He got this way after a badly thought out double-cross of a Weaver, who have a flair for this sort of magic.
“This is inconvenient timing,” said Tower, glancing down. “He’s heading straight for the cave. So much for the thought of leaving Numinous behind.”
“Or we could just kill Stallion and his crew,” said Menagerie. “We’ll be glad to do it for no charge, as long as we don’t have to split the bounty for his head with you.”
While Tower pondered this offer, I drifted back down toward the cave. The Seahorse was moving toward the entrance at a speed that no sane sailor would risk. But then, Captain Stallion wasn’t known for being timid. I passed Infidel and Aurora on the way down. They were climbing the cliffs, lugging large bales of gear from ledge to ledge. Relic was nowhere to be seen. I slipped back into the cave just as the Seahorse reached the mouth. Numinous, Ivory Blade, and the Whisper were still inside. The Seahorse carried at least fifty men, battle-hardened cut-throats who would give even the Goons a run for their money. Whatever Tower decided, I hope he decided it fast.
Within the cave, Ivory Blade stood on the shore, watching the pirates set anchor in the cove. Numinous came out of the sole tent remaining in the camp. A handful of glorystone lanterns were still scattered about the place. It took the pirates all of ten seconds to notice the precious rocks. The Seahorse leaned starboard as the entire crew rushed to the rails to look at the glowing gems.
Captain Stallion leapt from the deck, his pirate hat flying off as he sailed across the water to land in the shallows, splashing onto the shore with a few more jumps. He had a saber drawn as he eyed Ivory Blade.
“Well, well, well!” Stallion shouted. “Look who we have here! Mister Ivory Blade! The deal-breaking, cowardly dog who I swore would walk the plank if ever we met again!”
“Didn’t know you were the type to hold a grudge, Stallion,” said Blade.
A dozen men jumped from the ship, swimming ashore quickly, blades in their teeth, to stand beside their captain. Stallion said, “A grudge?” as he pranced closer to the albino. His donkey body left him a little taller. While Blade was a figure of composure, every hair in place, Stallion looked as if he’d gone feral. His long hair was tangled and matted around his sunburnt face. His clothing was half rotten on his back. “A grudge is a small thing, Mr. Blade. A grudge is like weak beer. My feelings for you have been distilled ten times into a brew of pure 200- proof hatred. Whatever happens from this day forward, I’ll die a happy man to have finally learned if your entrails are the same spook-white as the rest of your unholy flesh.”
“Don’t make any hasty decisions until you hear what I have to say,” said Blade.
“I’ll not be listening to your lying tongue ever again!” cried Stallion. He turned to his men, and cried, “Kill him!”
And in the blink of an eye, the dozen men that surrounded him fell to the ground, grasping their slit throats, as the silhouetted form of the Whisper danced silently through their midst. She ended her dance by slicing up with her sword and chopping Stallion’s blade in twain four inches above the hilt. The impact made no sound; what was her sword made of?
Stallion frowned as he looked at his abbreviated weapon. He glanced around at the dying men surrounding him. Then, he grinned broadly. “Blade! Old friend! Can’t you recognize a little joke?”
“Only when dead pirates are the punchline,” said Blade, still with his arms crossed. “Shall we discuss business now?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I would like to hire you as a shuttle service. We have a boy here who is far from home. You can return him to the Silver City.”
“Ah,” said Stallion. “That could be a problem. A man such as yourself has perhaps heard of the small matter that your own king has placed a sizable price on my head?”
“Among other body parts,” said Blade. “Which is why, as payment for your services, King Brightmoon himself shall grant a pardon for your crimes. I can give you a letter of safe passage that all members of his navy will respect.”
“His pardon would carry no weight with the Wanderers. Or the Stormguard, for that matter.”
“No. But it will open an entire archipelago of ports where you could legally dock. Any number of towns where you could trot the streets a free man. And, the king recently lost several ships. Perhaps he’d find a position for you and the Seahorse in his navy.”
“I seem to recall similar promises being made five years ago, when I handled the small matter of bringing you the Book of the Abyss.”
“If it had been the genuine article, and not a blatant forgery, all promises would have been kept.”
Stallion ran a hand along his tangled mane. “Aye, it was a piss-poor forgery. I knew you’d discover it sooner or later.”
“It was sooner,” said Blade.
Stallion chuckled. “This boy must be precious to you, that he’d bring a king’s pardon.”
“Indeed. And if a person of a mercenary nature were to try to hold the boy against his will and seek a ransom, I can give you my solemn vow that his corpse would be rendered into glue.”
“I’m sure you would. Fortunately, I can’t imagine a person of a mercenary nature wanting a treasure greater than the king’s pardon… especially if these glorystones are thrown into the agreement.”
Blade shrugged. “Why not? We were leaving them behind anyway.”
“Very well, sir. We have a deal.”
