dressing as speedily as he could.
By the time he returned to the main road, there were noticeably more people about. With a frown, he perused the population. The best way… yes, there was his ticket into the port unmolested.
Down the street came a teamster with a cartload of bags and sacks, partially covered with a thick blanket. The donkey pulling the cart rolled its eyes in a bad tempered fashion and snorted. Ghassan chuckled.
“I know how you feel.”
Waiting for just the right moment, he walked out of the alleyway just as the cart rolled past and ambled quietly along on the opposite side of the street, keeping pace with the carter. Slowly, they rolled on toward the port and, after a few tense minutes, Ghassan let the carter pull slightly ahead. As the donkey reached the gate, guards stepped across to block passage. The man reined his beast in and the wheels rolled slowly to a halt, while the soldiers on duty began to go through the cart’s load, prodding with the buts of their spears.
Keeping his expression carefully neutral, Ghassan walked calmly on past the activity and through the open archway into the port district with only the most cursory of glances from one of the free guards.
He smiled. Being totally unremarkable was always the best way to remain unnoticed.
Now to find the Laughing Mermaid.
In which Ghassan instils order
The tavern was noisy, smelly, and absolutely full of life, exactly as Ghassan remembered it from the many times he had passed by during his youth as well as the more recent occasions when the Wind of God was docked here. However, despite his familiarity with the building, he had never before set foot inside it.
The interior was murky, reeking of the root cultivated by the desert nomads that was burned and smoked in clay pipes, mixed with the smell of sweat and that curious salty odour that only a lifetime sailor could cultivate. Squinting, Ghassan cast his gaze left and right. The tavern population seemed to polarise, with certain types gathering in small groups. There were several likely-looking groups that could represent the crew of the Empress and for a moment the fugitive officer chided himself for not asking more detail of his brother.
Through the crowds, as he clicked his tongue irritably, he spotted a heavy-set man with a design of whorls and spines tattooed across his scalp. Smiling, he realised that was probably why Samir had directed him to the first officer. Ghassan remembered that scalp from his brief time on board. Ursa was rather hard to miss.
Taking a deep breath, the tall man straightened and strode across the room, coming to a halt before the group who were spread across four tables at one end of the room. He almost laughed when the whole bunch fell silent, to a man, as he approached them. It was like something from an old comedy tale.
“Ursa, yes? I’m sure I remember you.”
The big man turned an angry face on him and his eyes flashed dangerously.
“Only if you’d like me to shout out your name, captain.”
Ghassan nodded.
“Agreed. Indiscreet of me. My apologies. I’m here at the request of my brother.”
Ursa nodded.
“He warned me. You’re to help us cut out the Empress and meet him later?”
“Yes, but more than that” Ghassan said, gesturing at a chair and raising his eyebrow.
The big first officer nodded and, as they sat, Ghassan noted with a mix of humour and discomfort the unpleasant looks many of the pirates were directing at him. He couldn’t entirely blame them, of course. He had been their most ardent adversary for many years and, were the roles reversed, he might well have tried to kill them by now.
“My brother is unwilling to leave even a part of his crew, and I tend to agree. We’re to free your shipmates and then take the ship. But before we make any sort of move, I need to be sure that you’re with me and I have a feeling some of you are struggling with that?”
Ursa shrugged.
“You’re no one’s favourite here. Can’t say as I’d have time for you myself if it weren’t for the law having been laid down by the boss; he threatened to gut anyone who laid a finger on you. Most of the lads would never dream of disobeying the cap’n, but there might be the odd man who thinks it would be worth it just to watch you bleed out.”
Ghassan nodded and turned to smile at the other men, who were still glowering at him.
“Anyone here have an issue with taking orders from me in your captain’s absence?”
There was a tight silence, though the level of apprehension around the table increased noticeably.
“Let me put it another way: I release every man here from their oath to my brother. I can’t do anything with a crew that are only with me because they’ve been told to be. So… given that you’re all free to knife me, with Ursa as a witness to my promise, who wants a go?”
Smiling, he pushed his seat back from the table, remaining firmly in it.
There was an uncomfortable pause as two men opposite him looked at one another and shuffled in their seat. The threat of displeasing Samir apparently still held them back. He smiled.
“No one at all?”
Ursa, next to him, leaned close for a moment.
“Don’t do this, sir. The cap’n will kill me if I let the men hurt you.”
Ghassan smiled and nodded.
“I’ll take my chances, Ursa. You take yours.”
Noting the man opposite who was almost out of his seat, his knuckles whitening on the seat arms with strain, Ghassan sized him up. These men were brutal and dangerous, but they would be honourable at some level, or Samir wouldn’t have them. It would be a shame to hurt them, but an example was worth a thousand speeches.
“Well?”
He took a preparatory breath as the man launched himself from the seat, pushing the table out of the way as he rose. Ghassan continued to sit and smile.
Stepping closer, the man clenched his fists and leapt in. Ghassan, having apparently goaded the biggest of the opposition and therefore most likely the slowest, waited until the first swing came. Lunging forward out of his chair, he rose immediately in front of his target, so close he was already inside the man’s swinging arm.
Ducking his head as he rose, he jabbed out with both hands. His left, formed into a shape resembling a dog’s paw, jabbed hard into the inner elbow of the swinging limb, his aim accurate. Simultaneously, his other hand homed in on the man’s free arm, which was reaching toward the sheathed dagger at his waist. Ghassan’s thumb and forefinger shaped into a pincer, he grasped the man’s wrist on the inside, just up from the heel of the hand, and squeezed hard.
As the man stumbled forward, blinking, his right arm dead from the elbow down and his left hand frozen in a claw of pain, Ghassan sighed and stepped back.
“I’ve always accorded myself a man of principle and honour and, as such I need everyone here to be completely open with me and I’ll extend you the same courtesy.”
He smiled as he gently pushed his assailant back upright.
“This man was going for his knife with the plain intent to kill. At least he’s let me know where he stands with this… or rather, where he falls…”
Still smiling warmly, he took a single step forward to stand inches from the nose of the stunned attacker, who was staring at his own lifeless hands in astonishment. Tilting his head to one side, Ghassan reached out and tapped the man in the temple with his forefinger. With a sigh, the large pirate folded, his eyes rolling upwards as he collapsed to the floor.
“See…” Ghassan said, stepping back away from the shuddering heap, “I don’t really want to hurt any of you but I’m going to need every man tonight, and I can’t have anyone with me who isn’t totally committed to the goal. Anyone else have any issue?”
He held his smile as he looked around the assembled stunned faces. Ursa blinked at him.
“How the hell did you do that?”
