Corsair

thump on the back. Kamoth Kastelmar was a lean, well-weathered man of fifty-five years, a little taller than his son. A gray-streaked beard of black framed his square face, and his eyes smoldered beneath craggy brows. He wore a knee-length black coat with gold embroidery at the cuff and collar, and a fine saber rode at his hip in a scabbard of Turmishan leather. Once upon a time he’d been the scion of a minor noble family of Hillsfar, but he’d put his home behind him at an early age, seeking better opportunities. Fifteen years ago Kamoth married Terena Hulmaster, the sister of the harmach, and brought Sergen-his son by his first wife, a woman Sergen hardly remembered-to Griffonwatch to live with Terena’s family. But Kamoth was a restless man, an ambitious man, and he soon began to plot against his brother-in-law, Harmach Grigor. When those plots were uncovered, Kamoth had been forced to flee Hulburg and seek his fortune elsewhere. He’d left Sergen to be raised by the family of his stepmother. Sergen had hated him for that for a long time, but Kamoth was his father for better or worse. Beyond the shadow of a doubt he’d taught Sergen everything he’d needed to know about how to look out for himself.

Kamoth thumped his back one more time and stepped back. “I don’t suppose you have something worth drinking in here?” he asked.

Sergen nodded at the brandy service. “Good dwarven brandy.”

The older lord snorted. “Well, perhaps living soft has its advantages.” He poured himself a tall glass and actually took a moment to inhale the aroma. “Did that fat little halfling get my cargo to your storehouse?”

“He did, although it was only three-and-a-half wagons’ worth,” Sergen replied. “Was that all of it?”

“I lost almost a third of the cargo after I beached the Sokol ship,” Kamoth said. He scowled fiercely. “Some madman spied out my landing and crept down after dark to set fire to my prize. What’s more, he cut the Sokol lass free of her bonds and fought his way out of my camp while my lads were busy fighting the fire. Killed two men and crippled another.”

Sergen grimaced. “Your madman was named Geran Hulmaster.”

“Geran? He was the one that fired my prize?” Kamoth turned away with a muttered oath. He glared into the fireplace for a long moment before he composed himself and turned back to Sergen. “All right, then. How did you find out about Geran’s little visit to my encampment?”

“Geran told his uncle about it the hour he returned to Hulburg. Grigor called the Harmach’s Council together to discuss the matter, and my ally on the council heard Geran’s story for himself. He keeps me informed of the council’s business; I heard the tale several days ago.”

Kamoth looked past Sergen, his eyes fixed on old memories. “Bernov’s son,” he murmured. “I saw him from a distance before he fled the beach, fighting his way past my lads. I thought he seemed familiar, and now I know why.” He shook his head and seated himself in one of the chairs by the fireplace. “Nine years now that Bernov Hulmaster’s been dead, and his wanderfooted son shows up to ruin the best part of a prize I took with my own two hands. Damn that man! Even from the grave he’s finding ways to hinder me.”

“The fire ruined that much of the Sokol cargo?”

“No, not that-the lass. She was a splendid sight, my boy. I had designs upon her, I did.”

Sergen grimaced. Kamoth was a man of violent appetites. When he said he had designs on a woman, those designs often ended in the most heinous sort of murder. It was one of the reasons his father had never bothered to establish himself in civilized society again after fleeing Hulburg years ago; his proclivities would have soon enough earned him a death sentence in all but the most lawless of settings. Sergen considered himself a pragmatic, unsentimental man, and he did not shy from the idea of taking what he wanted, but he’d never been able to understand the demonic urges that moved Kamoth. At its best Kamoth’s cruelty was simply wasteful. At its worst it was the very soul of wickedness, something so spiteful and nihilistic that even Sergen shrank from it. “I’m sure she was,” he temporized.

“How in the world did Geran know to lie in wait for me on that deserted shore?” Kamoth mused aloud. “I didn’t know myself where I’d put in until I saw the cove and decided it would serve.”

“Sheer accident. According to what my man on the council heard, Geran was off visiting his mother in Thentia. He was on his way home to Hulburg when he stumbled across your camp. A day or two to either side, and he never would have seen you.”

“By all the misfortunes of Beshaba. What did I do to deserve that?”

If ill fortune followed the guilty, Sergen thought, then his father had certainly earned his share and more. He decided not to voice that sentiment. He hesitated for a moment, then he said, “I’m afraid there is something more to Geran’s involvement. The Harmach’s Council ordered Geran to fit out a warship to deal with Kraken Queen. Geran is likely at sea by now, searching for you.”

“By all nine of the screaming Hells!” Kamoth leaned forward, his eyes fierce. “Warship? What warship?”

“Apparently the Verunas left a serviceable caravel named Seadrake behind when they abandoned the city. They’ve got a large detachment of Shieldsworn and mercenaries aboard.” Sergen smiled. “They believe it will be easier to track you to your lair than to patrol the sea lanes near Hulburg, awaiting the next attack.”

The pirate lord stifled a snort of derision. “Grigor Hulmaster thinks one impressed ship is a match for the Black Moon Brotherhood? I should go burn Hulburg to teach the harmach some respect.”

Sergen shrugged. So far events were proceeding more or less as he’d expected. His father’s pirate flotilla had virtually strangled trade going to Hulburg by sea over the summer, creating no small amount of difficulties for the Hulmasters. He’d originally planned for Kamoth’s corsairs to slowly tighten their grip over the next few months, bringing the harmach to his knees. “We expected that the Hulmasters would take steps to protect their shipping,” he said. “They have no choice. If Grigor does nothing, the Merchant Council has to act in his place.”

“I expected that they’d arm their merchantmen, perhaps send a few soldiers to sea, or maybe strike a deal with Hillsfar or Mulmaster for protection,” Kamoth said. “I didn’t think they’d fit out a warship so quickly. Why in the world did House Veruna leave anything that useful behind?”

“She couldn’t sail, and they didn’t have enough hands for the oars.” Sergen frowned; he’d spent his last few days in Hulburg hiding in the Veruna compound, and he remembered the Mulmasterites’ retreat all too well. “I told them to burn anything they couldn’t carry off, but Darsi chose not to listen to me. She thought she’d be able to convince the High Blade of Mulmaster to demand the return of the storehouses and Seadrake from the harmach.”

Kamoth waved his hand. “Bah. Ifyou can’t protect your own, you deserve to lose it. I don’t blame the High Blade for ignoring her complaints.”

“So what do we do about Geran and his ship?”

“Let him chase his own tail all around the Moonsea, as far as I care. Or set a trap for him.” Kamoth grinned fiercely and set a hand to the pommel of his dagger. “Yes, I like the thought of that. The day I see the son of Bernov Hulmaster dead on the point of my blade would be a fine day indeed.”

Other than the fact that Sergen hoped to be the one holding the blade, he approved of his father’s sentiment. “If my source is correct, there are close to a hundred of Hulburg’s soldiers and militia aboard Seadrake … along with Geran and Kara Hulmaster. Geran is little more than a reckless adventurer, but he is a formidable swordsman, and Kara is far and away the best commander in the harmach’s service. Can you defeat him?”

“So many, eh? Then I’d need two ships or a ruse of some kind.” Kamoth frowned, his eyes fixed on some distant vision of mayhem as he considered the problem. “Damn, but it might be better with three ships at that. I know Geran can fight, and those Shieldsworn’ll be tough bastards. It makes you wonder who’s left in Hulburg.”

Sergen looked sharply at his father and laughed. A bold idea had just occurred to him. “In fact, that is exactly what I’m wondering. With both Geran and Kara away from Hulburg and a shipful of Shieldsworn absent from the town’s defenders, I think a bold stroke might be called for.”

The pirate lord raised his eyebrows and sat back in his chair. “Raid the town? Now that is a bold idea, my boy. If I summon the Black Moon together, we could land better than six hundred men. Would that be enough to take Hulburg?”

“Take it? No, you’d never be able to fight your way into all the merchant compounds or storm Griffonwatch. But with even a little bit of surprise, you could pillage the harbor district and fire as much of the town as you liked.” That would in fact serve Sergen’s plans even better than slowly choking off the town’s trade; the harmach’s weakness in the wake of such an attack would demand action. And it would wound Geran to the heart if Hulburg suffered while he was wandering aimlessly hundreds of miles away. Sergen had much to repay Geran after the swordmage’s interference in his plans.