“I will approach Vurgrom at quiet moments, and fade into the shadows when our discourse is through. Other folk will have little opportunity to scrutinize me while the magic lends me grace.”
“What about Captain Clayhill? It doesn’t matter that she’s rejected him. I guarantee you, given what they’ve shared together, she’s still keeping an eye on him. She’ll notice what’s going on and realize you convinced her to end the affair, not for her benefit, but to open up opportunities for yourself.”
“That,” said Tu’ala’keth, “is where you come in.
Shandri Clayhill is worried about keeping you aboard Shark’s Bliss, and as her history attests, she is willing to use her charms to secure her ends. Encourage her to seduce you; then keep her out of my way.”
“What if I’m not the sort of man who lights her candle?”
“She gave herself to Vurgrom. How particular can she be?”
He laughed. “There is that. I’m going to be busy, playing jump-in-the-daisies with her and palavering with the other factions, too. But since I see I can’t talk you out of this, we’ll try it. Just be wary. Maybe you look at Vurgrom and see a fat, randy sot, but he’s dangerous. He’s murdered dozens in his time, and if he suspects you of tampering with his mind, a carnal itch won’t stop him from adding you to the tally.”
A caravel such as Shark’s Bliss could never go unattended, even in port. She always needed a hand or two to guard and maintain her. But while her crew had loot to squander in the stews and taverns of Immurk’s Hold, they had no interest in staying aboard a minute longer than necessary.
Such being the case, Anton wasn’t particularly surprised to see Captain Clayhill alone on deck. Someone else was surely aboard, but maybe he was working below.
The absence of her underlings gave the pirate a reasonable amount of room to practice with her new greatsword. Grunting, face intent, she stamped back and forth, circled, blocked, and cut. Her ridiculous skirts swirled about her legs, and her jewels sparkled in the hot afternoon sunshine. The enormous blade, however, didn’t gleam even when bathed in brightness. A murky dullness oozed inside the steel.
Anton rowed straight on toward the ship floating at anchor in the harbor. The breakrocks, a system of artificial reefs, lurked beneath the waves to rend the hull of any large vessel whose pilot hadn’t learned to thread the maze, but his little boat didn’t draw enough water for it to matter. He shipped the oars, tied his craft to Shark’s Bliss, and swarmed up a rope onto the larger vessel.
By that time, of course, Shandri Clayhill had long since seen him coming. Still, as he swung himself over the rail, she took a lurching step toward him. The greatsword twitched an inch or two upward, as if she were contemplating a head cut, and her jittery nerves had given away her intent.
Anton grinned. “Easy, Captain! It’s not the Sembian navy paying a call, only your ship’s mage.”
“I see that!” she snapped. She grabbed the greatsword’s scabbard, shoved the weapon in hard enough to clank the guard against the silver mouth of the sheath, and set it down on the deck. “I’m simply surprised. I haven’t seen much of you lately.”
“I know,” he said, putting on a rueful expression. “The truth is, after the way I acted when we divvied up the swag, I was ashamed to face you. I was greedy and arrogant, and I’m sorry.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. She plainly hadn’t expected an attempt at conciliation and wasn’t certain what to make of it. “If you’re so sorry,” she said, “tell me what became of Kassur and Chadrezzan. I know they didn’t simply run off. The mute wouldn’t leave his grimoires behind.”
Anton had already decided to give her a version of the truth. In his experience, such confidences opened the way for other forms of intimacy.
He made a show of hesitation then said, “I killed them. I killed them in self-defense. They came after me. But after offending you, I feared to tell you.”
“So why do it now?”
“To regain your trust, if it isn’t too late.”
“You’re more likely to make me angry all over again. If you hadn’t stormed out that night, it needn’t have come to slaughter.”
“I truly regret quarreling with you but not because it would have averted trouble with the Talassans. We were going to fight eventually. I think you knew that.”
“Well, maybe the wrong party survived. I’ve lost two valuable officers, each a more powerful spellcaster than you.”
“But neither as wily a tactician nor as sprightly a dancer.” He smiled. “Besides, Tu’ala’keth says you don’t need Kassur or anyone else in particular. The Queen of the Depths has marked you for greatness. Why, then, would you worry about attracting followers? We lesser mortals must vie to convince you we’re worthy to sail under your command.”
Her lips quirked upward. He could tell she liked the flattery but doubted its sincerity. “If you’re eager to remain aboard Shark’s Bliss, then why spend your time reveling with the chieftains of the other factions?”
He shrugged. “I told you: I felt sheepish hanging around Vurgrom’s mansion after making a jackass of myself. Besides, if folk want to stand me drinks and praise me as if I were Immurk come again, why would I say no? It’s a pleasant way to pass the time. But it means nothing. In fact, it’s beginning to bore me.
“We should go back to work. This is the height of the raiding season. Even with dragon flights wreaking havoc, the sea lanes are fat with trading vessels. Yet Shark’s Bliss sits in the harbor.”
She pulled a sour face. “I want to go out again. We can’t build a lasting reputation on one venture, no matter how bold or successful. But the crew still has plenty of gold to spend.”
“It doesn’t matter. They’ll go if you tell them to. They believe in you.”
Yet she, for whatever buried reason, found it difficult to believe in herself. She wanted to be strong, and in reality, she was. Yet she sported the impractical gown and the rest of her regalia to conjure the image of a colorful, eccentric pirate captain out of legend, because she feared the underlying reality would impress no one. More important, she hungered for avowals of admiration and fidelity.
It was all Anton needed to discern to worm his way into her affections. The rest was simply a matter of glibness.
“Then we’ll sail,” she said. “We’ll buy provisions and lay our plans.”
“I’m glad. But I should go now. I interrupted your weapons practice and you’re probably eager to get back to it.” He looked for a twist of disappointment in her face and found it readily enough. “Unless you’d like to spar?”
She grinned. “I would. I have wooden swords in my cabin.”
“Why not use live blades? We’re skillful enough to avoid cutting each other, and with a new sword to learn, you ought to practice some parries against a real weapon.”
He’d watched her dogged trainingher near-obsessive labor to make herself as formidable a combatant as any in the Pirate Islesenough to notice she only practiced with the greatsword while isolated aboard Shark’s Bliss. Since he’d handled the weapon itself before she’d claimed it, he reckoned he knew why.
She averted her gaze a little, as though abashed, and he was certain of it. “That’s not a good idea,” she said.
“Why not? Because of the spirit inside the blade?”
“Yes. It’s… bloodthirsty. I’ve decided it’s dangerous to draw it except when I’m alone or have foes to kill.”
“But Shandri,” he said, “you’re the mistress of the sword as surely as you’re the mistress of this ship. It can’t do anything you don’t permit. But I imagine it’s like a dog. It will keep testing you and trying to get its own way until you prove you’re in control.”
“Do you truly think so?”
“Yes, so let’s fence.” He picked up the greatsword and tossed it to her then drew his cutlass. “Just take it slow at first.”
“All right.” She took hold of the leather-wrapped hilt and pulled the long weapon from the scabbard. As she came on guard, it quivered, and darkness billowed up the blade like blood dispersing through water. Anton felt a pang of unease and wondered if what he’d suggested was as stupid as it suddenly seemed. But even if so, it was too late to back out now.
She slowly cut at his flank, and he brought the cutlass across in a leisurely parry. The greatsword leaped high, above the defense, and hacked at his head. He sprang backward, and the vicious stroke hurtled down, missing by a matter of inches. Shandri started to rush after him then jerked herself to a halt. The dark blade shuddered in
