The Pirate King

AN ADVISOR NO MORE



You're keeping Suljack alive?" old Rethnor asked Kensidan as they walked together along the decorated halls of the palace of Ship Rethnor.



"I gave him the dwarf," Kensidan replied. "I was beginning to find the little beast annoying anyway. He was starting to speak in rhymes - something his former master warned me about."



"Former master?" the old man said with a wry grin.



"Yes, father, I agree," the Crow replied with a self-deprecating chuckle. "I trust them only because I know that our best interests converge and lead us to the same place."



Rethnor nodded.



"But I cannot allow Baram and Taerl to kill Suljack - and I believe they want to do that very thing after seeing him on the dais with Deudermont."



"Sitting behind Deudermont has angered them so?"



"No, but it has presented the two with an opportunity they shan't pass up," Kensidan explained. "Kurth has bottled up his forces on Closeguard Island, riding out the storm. I've no doubt that he is instigating many of the fights on the mainland, but he wants the corpse of Luskan a bit more dead before he swoops upon her like a hungry vulture. Baram and Taerl believe that I'm wounded at present, because I was so strongly in Deudermont's court, and also, of course, because there has been no formal transition of power from you to me. To their thinking, the destruction of the Hosttower caused such devastation across the city that even my own followers are reeling and unsure, and so won't follow my commands into battle."



"Now why would Baram and Taerl think such a thing about the loyal foot-soldiers of Ship Rethnor?" the high captain asked.



"Why indeed?" replied the coy Kensidan, and Rethnor nodded again, smiling widely, the grin revealing that he thought his son played it perfectly.



"So you and Kurth have closed up," Rethnor said. "You didn't even appear at Deudermont's inauguration. Any gains to be made on the street by the other three lesser high captains have to be made now, and quickly, before either of you two, or Deudermont, comes out and crushes it all. Just to add a bit of fire to that smokepowder, you put Suljack on the stage with Deudermont, all the excuse that Taerl and Baram need."



"Something like that, yes."



"But don't let them get to him," Rethnor warned. "You'll be needing Suljack before this mess has ended. He's a fool, but a useful one."



"The dwarf will keep him safe. For now."



They came to the intersection of hallways leading to their respective rooms then, and parted ways, but not before Rethnor leaned over and kissed Kensidan on the forehead, a sign of great respect.



The old man shuffled down the corridor and through his bedroom door. "My son," he whispered, full of contentment.



He knew then, without doubt, that he had chosen right in turning Ship Rethnor over to Kensidan, instead of his other son, Bronwin, who was hardly ever in the city of late. Bronwin had been a disappointment to Rethnor, for he never seemed to be able to look beyond his most immediate needs, for treasure or for women, nor did he show any capacity for patience in satiating his many hungers. But Kensidan, the one they called the Crow, had more than made up for Bronwin's failings. Kensidan was every bit as cunning as his father, indeed, and probably even more so.



Rethnor lay down with that thought in mind, and it was a good last thought.



For he never awakened.



He hustled her along the rain-soaked dark streets, taking great pains to keep the large cloak wrapped about her. He constantly glanced around - left, right, behind them - and more than once put a hand to the dagger at his belt.



Lightning split the sky and revealed many other people out in the torrent, huddled in alleyways and under awnings, or, pathetically, in the jamb of a doorway, as if trying to draw comfort out of mere proximity to a house.



The couple finally got to the dock section, leaving the houses behind, but that was even more dangerous terrain, Morik knew, for though fewer potential assailants watched their passage, so too did fewer potential witnesses.



"He went out - all the boats went out to moor so they wouldn't get cracked against the wharves," Bellany said to him, her voice muffled by the wet cloak. "Stupid plan."



"He didn't, and he wouldn't," Morik replied. "He's my coin and I've his word."



"A pirate's word."



"An honorable man's word," Morik corrected, and he felt vindicated indeed when he and Bellany turned a corner of a rather large storehouse to see one ship still in tight against the docks, bucking the breakers that rolled in on the front of the gathering storm. One after another, those storms assaulted Luskan, a sure sign that the wind had changed and winter was soon to jump the Spine of the World and bring her fury to the City of Sails.



The couple hustled down to the wharves, resisting the urge to sprint in the open across the boardwalk. Morik kept them to the shadows until they reached the nearest point to Thrice Lucky's berth.



They waited in the deep shadows of the inner harbor storehouses until another lightning strike creased the sky and lit the area, and they looked left and right. Seeing no one, Morik grabbed Bellany's arm and sprinted straight for the ship, feeling vulnerable indeed as he and his beloved ran along the open pier.



When they got to the boarding plank, they found Captain Maimun himself, lantern in hand, waiting for them.



"Be quick, then," he said. "We're out now, or we're riding it out against the dock."



Morik let Bellany lead the way up the narrow wooden ramp, and went with her onto the deck and into Maimun's personal quarters.



"A drink?" the captain asked, but Morik held up his hand, begging off.



"I haven't the time."



"You're not coming out to mooring with us?"



"Kensidan won't have it," Morik explained. "I don't know what's going on, but he's pulling us all into Ten Oaks this night."



"You'd trust your beautiful lady to a rogue like me?" Maimun asked. "Should I be offended?" As he spoke of her, both he and Maimun turned to Bellany, and she fit that description indeed at that moment. Bathed in the light of many candles, her black hair soaked, her skin sparkling with raindrops, there was no other way to describe the woman as she pulled herself out of her heavy woolen weathercloak.



She tossed her wet hair out of her face casually, a movement that had both men fully entranced, and looked to them curiously, surprised to see them staring at her.



"Is there a problem?" she asked, and Maimun and Morik both laughed, which only confused the woman even more.



Maimun motioned toward her with the bottle and Bellany eagerly nodded.



"It must be very difficult out there if you're willing to sit aboard a ship in a storm," Maimun remarked as he handed her a glass of whiskey.



Bellany drained it in a single gulp and handed the glass back for a refill.



"I'm not with Deudermont and won't be," Bellany explained as Maimun poured. "Arabeth Raurym won the fight with Valindra, and Arabeth is no matron of mine."



"And if a former inhabitant of the Hosttower of the Arcane is not with Deudermont, then she's surely dead," Morik added. "Some have found refuge with Kurth on Closeguard Island."



"Mostly those who worked closely with him over the years, and I hardly know the man," Bellany said.



"I thought Deudermont had granted amnesty to all who fought with Arklem Greeth?" Maimun asked.



"For what it's worth, he did," said Morik.



"And it's worth a lot to the many attendants and non-practitioners who came out of the rubble of the Hosttower," said Bellany. "But for we who wove spells under the direction of Arklem Greeth, who are seen as members of the Arcane Brotherhood and not just the Hosttower, there is no amnesty - not with the common Luskar, at least."



Maimun handed her back her refilled glass, which she sipped instead of gulping. "Order has broken down across the city," the young captain said. "This was the fear of many when Deudermont and Brambleberry's intent became apparent. Arklem Greeth was a beast, and it was precisely that inhumanity and viciousness that kept the five high captains, and their men below them, in line. When the city rallied to Deudermont that day in the square, even I came to think that maybe, just maybe, the noble captain was strong enough of character and reputation to pull it off."



"He's running out of time," said Morik. "You'll find the murdered in every alley."



"What of Rethnor?" Maimun asked. "You work for him."



"Not by choice," said Bellany, and Morik's scowl at her was quite revealing to the perceptive young pirate captain.



"I'm not for knowing what Rethnor intends," Morik admitted. "I do as I'm told to do, and don't poke my nose into places it doesn't belong."



"That's not the Morik I know and love," said Maimun.



"Truth be told," Bellany agreed.



But Morik continued to shake his head. "I know what Rethnor's got behind him, and knowing that, I'm smart enough to just do as I'm told to do."



A call from the deck informed them that the last lines were about to be cast off.



"And you were told to return to Ship Rethnor this night," Maimun reminded Morik, leading him to the door. The rogue paused long enough to give Bellany a kiss and a hug.



"Maimun will keep you safe," he promised her, and he looked at his friend, who nodded and held up his glass in response.



"And you?" Bellany replied. "Why don't you just stay out here?"



"Because then Maimun couldn't keep any of us safe," Morik replied. "I'll be all right. If there's one thing I know as truth in all of this chaos, it's that Ship Rethnor will survive, however the fates weigh on Captain Deudermont."



He kissed her again, bundled up his cloak against the deepening storm, and rushed from Thrice Lucky. Morik waited at the docks just long enough to see the crew expertly push and row the ship far enough from the wharves to safely moor then he ran off into the rainy night. When he returned to Ship Rethnor Morik learned that the high captain had quietly passed away, and Kensidan the Crow was fully at the helm.



They entered from the continuing rain in a single and solemn line, moving through the entry rooms of Rethnor's palace to the large ballroom where the high captain lay in state.



All of the remaining four high captains attended, with Suljack the first to arrive, Kurth the last, and Baram and Taerl, tellingly, entering together.



Kensidan had assembled them, all four, in his private audience chamber when word arrived that the governor of Luskan had come to pay his respects.



"Bring him," Kensidan said to his attendant.



"He is not alone," the woman replied.



"Robillard?"



"And some others of Sea Sprite's crew," the attendant explained.



Kensidan waved her away as if it didn't matter. "I tell you four now, before Deudermont joins us, that Ship Rethnor is mine. It was given to me before my father passed on, with all his blessings."



"Ye changing the name, are ye? Ship Crow?" Baram joked, but Kensidan stared at him hard and elicited a nervous cough.



"Any of you who think that perhaps Ship Rethnor is vulnerable now would be wise to think otherwise," Kensidan said, biting off the last word as the door opened and Governor Deudermont walked in, the ever-vigilant and ever-dangerous Robillard close behind. The others of Sea Sprite didn't enter, but were likely very close nearby.



"You have met Luskan's newest high captain?" Kurth asked him, motioning toward Kensidan.



"I didn't know it to be an inherited position," Deudermont said.



"It is," was Kensidan's curt response.



"So if the good Captain Deudermont passes on, I get Luskan then?" Robillard quipped, and he shrugged as Deudermont cast him an unappreciative look for the sentiment.



"Doubtin' that," said Baram.



"If you are to be the five high captains of Luskan, then so be it," said Deudermont. "I care not how you manage the titles as of now. What I care about is Luskan, and her people, and I expect the same from you all, as well."



The five men, unused to being spoken to in that manner and tone, all grew more attentive up, Baram and Taerl bristling openly.



"I ask for peace and calm, that the city can rebound from a trying struggle," said Deudermont.



"One yerself started, and who asked ye?" Baram replied.



"The people asked me," Deudermont retorted. "Your people among them - your people who marched with Lord Brambleberry and I to the gates of the Hosttower."



Baram had no answer.



But Suljack did, enthusiastically. "Aye, and Captain Deudermont's givin' us a chance to make Luskan the envy of the Sword Coast," he declared, surprising even Deudermont with his energy. But not surprising Kensidan, who had bid him to do that very thing, and not surprising Kurth, who offered a sly grin at Kensidan as the fool Suljack rambled on.



"My people are tiring and hurting bad," he said. "The war was tough on them, on us all, and now's the time for hoping for better and working together to get better. Know that Ship Suljack's with you, Governor, and we won't be fighting unless it's to save our own lives."



"My appreciation," Deudermont replied with a bow, his expression showing as much suspicion as gratitude, which was not lost on the perceptive Kensidan.



"If you will pardon me, Governor, I'm here to bury my father, not to discuss politics," said Kensidan, and he motioned to the door.



With a bow, Deudermont and Robillard departed, joining some others of their crew who had been stationed right outside the door. Suljack went next, then Baram and Taerl together, as they had entered, both grumbling unhappily.



"This passing changes nothing," Kurth paused to remark to the Crow as he moved to leave. "Except that you have lost a valuable advisor." He gave a little knowing laugh and left the room.



"I'm not much liking that one," the dwarf behind Kensidan's chair remarked a moment later.



Kensidan shrugged. "Be quick to Suljack," he ordered. "Baram and Taerl will be even more angry with him after he so openly pledged with Deudermont."



"What o' Kurth?"



"He won't move against me. He sees where this is leading, and he awaits the destination."



"Ye sure?"



"Sure enough to tell you again to get to Suljack's side."



The dwarf gave an exaggerated sigh and thumped past the chair. "Getting a little tired o' being telled what to do," he mumbled under his breath, drawing a grin from Kensidan.



A few moments later, half the room where Kensidan sat alone darkened.



"You heard it all?" he stated as much as asked.



"Enough to know that you continue to put your friend in dire peril."



"And that displeases you?"



"It encourages us," said the voice of the unseen, the never-seen, speaker. "This is bigger than one alliance, of course."



"The dwarf will protect him," Kensidan replied, just to show that maybe it wasn't bigger than his alliance with Suljack.



"Don't doubt that," the voice assured him. "Half of Luskan's garrison would be killed trying to get past that one."



"And if more than that come, and Suljack is killed?" Kensidan asked.



"Then he will be dead. That is not the question. The question is what will Kensidan then do if his ally is lost?"



"I have many inroads to Suljack's followers," the head of Ship Rethnor replied. "None of them will form allegiance to Baram or Taerl, nor will I let them forgive those two for killing Suljack."



"The fighting will continue, then? Beware, for Kurth understands the depth of your trickery here."



The dwarf walked back into the room at that moment, his eyes widening at the darkness, at the unexpected visitation by his true masters.



Kensidan watched him just long enough to gauge his reaction then answered, "The chaos is Deudermont's worst enemy. My city guards don't report to their posts, nor do many, many others. Deudermont can give great speeches and make wonderful promises, but he cannot control the streets. He cannot keep the peasants safe. But I can keep mine safe, and Kurth his, and so on."



Beside him, the dwarf laughed, though he bit it off when Kensidan turned to regard him. "True enough," the head of Ship Rethnor admitted. "'Tis the trap of competitive humanity, you see. Few men are content if others have more to be content about."



"How long will you let it proceed?" asked the voice in the darkness.



Kensidan shrugged. "That is up to Deudermont."



"He's stubborn to the end."



"Good enough," Kensidan said with a shrug.



The dwarf laughed again as he moved behind the chair to retrieve his forgotten weathercloak.



"I hope you live up to your reputation," Kensidan said to him as he passed by again.



"Been looking for something to hit for a long time," the dwarf replied. "Might even have a rhyme or two ready for me first battle."



Someone in the darkness groaned, and the dwarf laughed even louder and all but skipped from the room.