his imagination seized on some poor sod staggering out of a tavern to spew his guts and having his throat cut by one of Drakisa€™ relatives.
I must be getting old, he thought, to let such flights of cutthroat fancy affect me. The Coralean fortune, after all, was not built by men who shrank at the idea of spilled blood. How many bandit heads have you cut off yourself to post on the caravan trail as a warning to others? And how many murderous competitors were buried by the trail after they tried to ambush you?
In all honesty he had to admit the difference between deaths caused through honest commerce and outright theft was slight. His mind started to wobble further down that disturbing path and he pulled himself up, realizing it was a by product of his illness. Besides, Drakis was looking at him, wondering why he hadn't answered.
'Coralean knows from personal experience what you mean, Captain,' the caravan master replied. 'In fact I was just reflecting on my youthful career as a raider. One day in particular stands out. It was when I won my first big stake into the caravan business. Why, we cut so many throats that day we…'
And he went on to spin a marvelous and detailed lie. Sick as he was, Coralean told such an artful tale of murder and deceit that the pirate captain's eyes shone with admiration. Believing himself fortunate to be admitted into the awesome presence of such a cold-hearted thief as the great Lord Coralean.
All of the captains and sailors in the fleet thought Coralean was not only as much a rogue as they were but was actually better than themselves at the craft of crime. And certainly far more cunning.
It was one of the ways he'd kept his hold over them. A steely grip he had to keep more secure than ever if he were to save Safar from being overtaken and ambushed at sea by Rhodes and his three stolen ships.
Coralean had not been fooled by the Hunanian king's ruse. A man who had won several fortunes by never underestimating his enemies, he'd not wasted one minute thinking Rhodesa€™ intentions were to use the ships to stage an attack on the Kyranian stronghold.
Which was what the Council of Elders had believed when he'd brought the news to them of the betrayal off the port of Xiap. They were all for rushing the army down to the beach where Rhodes was most likely to come ashore.
Fortunately, Safar's father, Khadji, quickly saw Coralean's logic. Especially after the caravan master revealed that their old enemy Kalasariz-who had once seized Kyrania with a horde of demons-had shown up in Syrapis and joined Rhodes.
Leaving Coralean to argue with the Council, Khadji had led a lighting raid on Hunan and brought back several captured officers. Rhode's men were as greedy as their king and all it took was a little creative bribery to get them to spill the details of his plan.
Immediately all opposition to Coralean's proposal to chase down the king and rescue Safar and Palimak had collapsed.
Now he was only three or four days behind Rhodes. He had all nine remaining ships at his disposal, plus a large force of Kyranian soldiers spread through the fleet. All of them well-warned and alert to the possibility of another attempt at betrayal.
If even a single sailor showed mutinous intent, he'd be cut down and thrown over the side to the sharks.
The image of sharp teeth tearing into human flesh and blood-frothed water rose up in Coralean's mind and his belly staged another rebellion.
'Is somethina€™ wrong, me lord?' Drakis asked, concern in his voice and a gleam of something quite different in his eyes. 'Are you feelina€™ under the weather this day?' He waved at the straining sails.
'It's only a little blow. Nothina€™ to set a
The last thing Coralean wanted was a display of weakness in front of Drakis, the most respected of the pirate captains in the fleet. Especially a weakness of the seagoing variety.
'It's not my innards that are rebelling, captain,' the caravan master lied. 'As all men know, Coralean has a belly worthy of a cast-iron pot. Why, a fellow once tried to poison me with lye and I drank it down and called for more.'
He gripped his forehead between mighty fingers and squeezed. 'It's my poor head. I blame it on that keg of brandy my wife served me last night. I only drank a gallon or so for a nightcap before bed. Still, it seems to have given me a fierce headache.'
He sighed. 'The price of getting old, I warrant,' he said. 'I used to drink a whole keg without effect and sleep like a babe in his mother's arms.'
Drakis was instantly and honestly sympathetic. Under the pirate's rules of manly behavior too much drink was a completely acceptable excuse for any number of things, up to and including taking an ax to your own family.
'It musta been a bad batch of brandy, me lord,' he said. 'Or maybe the keg was broached and some sea- water got in. Hells, I've gotten sick meself from that sort of thing!'
'It did taste a little salty,' Coralean said, frowning.
Drakis nodded vigorously. 'See, what'd I tell you? It's the brine that's makina€™ your head hurt!'
He placed a hand on one of Coralean's massive shoulders. 'Whyn't you go below and take a rest, me lord?' he suggested. 'I'll send you a keg of my own private reserve to help you sleep. Couple quarters of that, mixed with a little sugar, and you'll sleep like that babe you was talkina€™ about and wake up feelina€™ right as rain. That's my prescription.'
Coralean grinned. 'Thank you very much, Doctor Drakis,' he jested. 'I'll take your good advice and go below to my cabin.'
Then, calling on his last reserves of willpower, he fought down another wave of seasickness and took his leave, reputation intact.
Eeda was waiting for Coralean when he entered the spacious cabin.
'Oh, my poor, dear lord husband,' she said when she saw his pale face, 'you don't have your sea legs under you yet, do you?'
The caravan master groaned, letting all pretense vanish. For reasons not quite clear to him yet, he felt more comfortable in Eeda's presence than in that of any of his other wives.
'I fear not, my pretty one,' he admitted. 'At this moment, your beloved bull, Coralean, feels more like a foundling calf, sick from wanting his mother.'
'Here, my lord husband,' she said, handing him a steaming goblet. 'Drink this and you'll feel much better.'
Coralean sniffed the fumes. It was brandy laced with fragrant spices. Still he hesitated, saying 'I don't know if I can, little one,' he said. 'Even brandy may not sit well on this traitorous belly of mine.'
Eeda put on a charming pout. 'Oh, please trust me, lord husband,' she said. 'I used to make this for my father when he was feeling less than himself. And it always worked such wonders that he called it a miracle potion direct from the gods.'
'I doubt if even a miracle can help me, sweetness' Coralean said. Then, moved by her pout, he relented, saying, 'But I can refuse you nothing, pretty one. Although it might result in the God of Death, himself, paying a visit to carry poor Coralean away.'
He drank the potion down, shuddering as it hit bottom and bounced several times. Then he smiled as the bouncing stopped and warmth and good cheer flooded through his body, banishing the sickness.
'Why, I feel better already,' he said, surprised. He looked at the dregs in the cup. 'What was in that marvelous elixir, my precious one?'
Eeda smiled prettily. 'Oh, a little of this and a little of that,' she said. 'Along with a large dose of magic.'
Then she gently pushed him to his bunk, unbuckling his belt and helping him with the fastenings of his clothing. A moment later he was seated and she pulled off his boots, then his breeches and shirt. Like a helpless child he submitted to her tender ministrations, letting her pull a sleeping gown over his head to cover his massive body.
He sighed blissfully. She'd even warmed the gown with a hot iron.
'You're not sorry you brought me with you, lord husband?' she asked as she pressed him down onto the bunk and pulled up the blanket.
'Even though it nearly caused a revolt in my harem out of jealousy,' he said, 'I've yet to regret my decision.'
