Pirates & Privateers Page 15

  “Why aren’t you on that ship?” Ursa asked. “I told you I wanted you gone!”

  “I missed it,” Dag lied. “I wanted to talk to my sister. To say a real goodbye.”

  Ursa looked her over, and after a moment, she shrugged. “Let’s go find her.” She turned and started walking towards the tavern.

  Suddenly unsure, Dag followed a few steps behind. She took one look back and saw Calder, a fishing pole in one hand and nets over his shoulder. He made the Intelligencer hand motion for a question, and she signalled back that she might need his help.

  Ursa stepped through the door to the tavern, and Dag followed, pausing to let her eyes adjust to the dark room.

  Someone slammed into her, and she dropped her pack as she was pushed against the wall.

  “Got her,” a voice at her ear said. Her arms were wrenched behind her back, and she was shoved to the ground.

  “Inger!” Dag called. Then a hand covered her mouth. Dag bit down hard and the person holding her howled in pain.

  “You pile of skit!”

  Dag’s head slammed against the floor, and she tasted blood as she bit the inside of her cheek. She rolled over, and her attacker rolled off her. Then Ursa bent down, grabbed her left arm, and hauled her up, pushing her up against the wall. She leaned against the closed front door, blocking it.

  “Inger!” Dag called again.

  Ursa sneered at her. “She’s not here. Hanne and I have plenty of time to finish what we started last night.” She looked over Dag’s head. “Get the rope from behind the bar.” Dag looked over her shoulder to see a dishevelled Hanne limp away towards the kitchen.

  “Hello?” The door jiggled, and Ursa frowned. Someone pounded on the door, and Ursa slid along the wall. “Hey, is someone here?”

  Ursa glared at Dag and took a step away from the door. It opened, and Calder poked his head in.

  “Oh good, you are here,” he said. “I was hoping for some food that I can take with me. I’m going fishing and I don’t want to have to count on my skills for a midday meal.” He smiled and his gaze swept past Dag to Hanne, who was leaning against the bar before coming to rest on Ursa.

  “You’re the one Charis been talking about, aren’t you?” Ursa said.

  “That depends on whether he’s been saying good things or bad,” Calder replied. Dag noticed that he kept his eyes on Ursa, not even glancing her way.

  “Good,” Ursa said. “You’re joining his crew, right?”

  “Second Mate,” Calder said. “That’s what he told me.”

  “Not afraid of being a privateer?” Ursa asked, and Dag could hear the menace in the question.

  “I’ve been at sea most of my life, so I think I’ve done most things at one time or another.” Calder held up a fishing pole. “I’m planning on doing some fishing but wanted a guaranteed lunch. Can I get something?”

  Dag thought Ursa was going to refuse him, but in the end, she gestured to him. “Hanne knows her way around well enough to find you something. I have something else I have to take care of.”

  “Sure, thanks,” Calder said. He stepped past Ursa and gestured to Dag to be compliant.

  Ursa pulled Dag out the door and dragged her around to the back of the building.

  “You stay quiet until he’s gone or I’ll hurt Inger.” Ursa opened a small door and shoved Dag through it.

  Dag stumbled to the ground, and by the time she turned around, the door was shut. She heard the sound of a lock clicking into place, and then it was quiet.

  She grabbed the door handle and pulled and twisted: the lock rattled, but the door didn’t budge. She turned to investigate her prison. It was a storage room; burlap sacks were folded by the far end, but it wasn’t storing anything at the moment. Except her. It had been built against the side of the tavern and the dirt floor had been dug down a foot. There was a tiny gap along one wall, but she had nothing to use to try to pry the planks away or dig the earth out from under the wall.

  She crawled to the far end and felt among the sacks, but they were all empty. There was a loose strand of burlap: she started pulling it, unravelling it until she had a fairly long strand. Using her teeth, she separated it from the sack and started unravelling another length of fibre. Once she had a few strands, she twisted them together to make a thin rope. It wasn’t a great weapon, but it was better than nothing.

  Voices were coming close, and instead of waiting by the small door, Dag huddled at the far end. She didn’t think Ursa would try to squeeze into this small space to get her, so that left Hanne, who she might be able to best with her thin rope.

  She’d still need to get past Ursa, who wanted her dead. But Dag wasn’t giving up without a fight.

  The lock rattled, and then the door was opened. Ursa peered in.

  “That’s not going to help you,” she said. “Sitting at the back like that.”

  “Where’s Inger?” Dag asked. “What have you done to my sister?”

  “What have I done to her besides give her a home and work and a chance to be part of my family?” Ursa asked.

  “She already has a family.”

  “You? You’re just her blood.” Ursa stood up, and all Dag could see was her sturdy legs. “Hanne! Get out here.”

  “Oh hey,” it was Calder again. “Hanne said to come and ask you if I could borrow this knife. I thought I might want to clean any fish I caught.”

  Ursa’s legs left the doorway, and Dag scrambled over to it and peeked out.

  “Where is Hanne?” Ursa asked.

  Ursa took a couple of steps away from the door. Dag looked up to see Calder waving a kitchen knife in the air while Ursa stood staring at him with her hands on her hips. Dag launched herself at Ursa’s legs. She caught her right on the back of the knees, and with a yelp, the tavern keeper fell over backwards.

  “Hanne! Get her!” Ursa called even as Dag clambered to her feet. She stepped past Calder, who still brandished the knife.

  “Sorry, Hanne’s tied up,” Calder said. “And you need to get in there.” With the knife, he gestured to the storage shed.

  “Make me,” Ursa said.

  “All right.” The casual way Calder replied must have unnerved the tavern keeper because she moved towards the small door.

  “I did tell you I’ve done most things at one time or another,” Calder said. Once Ursa was inside the shed, he toed the door closed. Dag grabbed the lock and looped it through the rings and snapped it shut. For good measure, she tied the twine around it too.

  “Thanks,” Dag said to Calder.

  He wrapped the knife in a cloth and tucked it into the netting that was slung over his shoulder. “Sure,” he replied. “Now, let’s go.”

  They took the path that led away from the inn in silence. It wasn’t until they’d walked past the two forlorn huts that Dag broke the silence.

  “Ursa said Inger wasn’t there. Did you see her?”

  “No,” Calder replied. “I think she went with the crew to get the Bright Breeze.”

  Dag stopped and caught his arm. “Her Trait puts her at risk. She’ll be the first target in any fight. Why would they do that?”

  “To make her one of them,” Calder said. “If she’s part of their secret, then it’s harder for her to leave and tell someone what they’re up to.”

  “Because she’ll be blamed too,” Dagrun said. She turned to look at him. “I’m pretty sure Ursa was going to kill me. I thought she wanted me on the ship?”

  “She did,” Calder replied. “I think her preference was to have Inger see you die in a fight. That way she can’t be blamed and Inger knows that you’re dead.”

  “That’s horrible!” Dag couldn’t imagine much worse than seeing her sister die. “And then Ursa could console her.” She followed Calder from the beach into the trees.

  “Yeah. It’s a pretty hideous thing to plan.”

  “I’m not leaving without my sister,” Dag said.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “HOW MUCH FARTHER?�
�� Calder asked. He swatted his sleeve, and a cloud of insects flew into the air.

  “Another half an hour or so,” Dag replied. “Here.” She passed him the water skin, and he took a sip before handing it back to her.

  He shifted the nets and sighed; his skin was itchy where the rope touched it. At least he was wearing his boots. This journey would have been so much worse in bare feet.

  Forest lined a beach that led to a rocky outcrop. From this vantage he couldn’t tell if there was a way around the rocks, but he knew that Dagrun had found a way past this point recently.

  The beach ahead was empty, but when he scanned the sea in front of it, he saw something off in the distance. He crouched down, signalling Dagrun to do the same.

  “There’s a sailboat offshore,” he said quietly. The small boat was still quite far from shore and hard to spot for anyone not accustomed to distinguishing whitecaps from sails.

  “Are they looking for us?” Dagrun asked in his ear.

  “Probably,” Calder agreed. “Although it’s possible they are simply heading to the weapons themselves.” He shaded his eyes and stared out at the small sailboat. Unless this was the boat from the beach near the weapons: the boat they were planning on using to get off this island. It was coming in towards shore, and now he recognized Jaak. Even from here Calder could tell the younger man wasn’t happy.

  “Inger’s there,” Dagrun breathed. “No wonder you were able to spot it.”

  “There are too many crew for us to overpower them and take the boat,” Calder said even though he was calculating whether he could count on Jaak’s help to subdue the other four sailors. But even if Jaak helped, he wasn’t sure Inger would. Dagrun was convinced her sister was doing this against her will, but he wasn’t so sure.

  The sailboat suddenly changed direction and skimmed past them, heading back towards the town of Strongrock. Calder didn’t relax until it was out of sight. Dagrun stood, and he pulled her back down.

  “We should wait a while longer,” he said. “If we disturbed a flock of birds they might turn back to investigate.” He settled his back against a tree and dug the wrapped package out from the nets. “Have something to eat.” He tore a chunk of cheese off for her and a second one for him. He hadn’t been able to get much off Hanne—he’d been too concerned for Dagrun’s safety—so there was just a small block of cheese, a strip of dried pork, and some hard journey bread.

  They ate all of the cheese, saving the least perishable food for later. Calder rose and brushed sand and twigs off him as Dagrun did the same.

  There were just a few seagulls floating lazily on air currents over the beach: he guessed they wouldn’t cause a large enough disturbance to be noticed by those in the sailboat. Besides, enough time had passed that the sailboat should be back at the settlement.

  “Let’s go,” he said and stepped off the grass and onto the beach.

  They were a little more than halfway to the rocks when the seagulls started screeching. Calder looked over his shoulder to see a ship rounding the point behind them, two of the small sailboats flanking it.

  “Run!” he called. He sprinted along the beach, dropping the fishing pole. It caught on the bundle containing the rest of the food which spilled out onto the sand. Calder ignored the loss and concentrated on reaching the rocks. Dagrun was right behind him as he climbed over the rocks and ducked under the cover of trees. It only took them a few minutes, but it was still too long. He heard shouts from behind as they charged into the forest.

  “This way,” Dagrun said as she edged past him. Instead of following the faint trail, she plunged into a thicket of ferns, pushing fronds out of the way. He waved away a cloud of insects and followed as she took them deeper into the forest.

  Suddenly, Dagrun stopped and signalled for him to duck. They crouched in the soft dirt, and he concentrated on keeping his breathing steady and silent. He didn’t hear anything, so he was surprised when Dagrun rose and scurried left.

  Ten minutes later they were beside a wall of rock.

  “We can hide up there,” Dagrun said. She pointed, and he looked up but didn’t see anything other than a fairly sheer rock face. “Trust me,” she said. “My Trait.”

  She started clambering up, using hand and footholds he would never have noticed. She swung over a ledge and disappeared. He took a couple of steps back. Even from this angle there was no trace of Dagrun.

  He stepped back to the wall of rock and reached a hand up. Following Dagrun’s path, using the same hand and footholds, scrambling up the rock was easy enough for someone used to climbing rigging.

  He heaved himself up and over a rocky lip and then slid down into a shallow bowl that was partially filled with dirt and tufts of dry grass. Dagrun was already flat on her stomach and inching towards the edge. Calder looked out over the tops of the trees to the sea. The ship had anchored near the beach where they’d been spotted, but the forest hid the two smaller boats.

  He eased away from the edge onto the softer earth that filled the depression. There could be over a dozen searchers combing the forest for them.

  Dagrun shimmied down to join him, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun.

  “Well, that’s my Trait,” she said. “Finding us a place to hide. Let’s hope yours comes through as well.”

  “Let’s hope,” he agreed. At times his Trait worked in strange ways. And would his Luck extend to anyone he was with?

  With his eyes closed against the sun, he strained to listen for sounds of the searchers: they were sailors, so he wasn’t expecting them to have the best skills on land. It was quiet, though, too quiet.

  There was a sudden flurry of wings as birds—disturbed by something in the woods—took flight. Calder turned and met Dagrun’s wide gaze. He didn’t need to see her finger to her lips to understand they needed to be quiet.

  The silence was punctuated by a yelp, followed by a curse.

  “Santu, shut up,” someone hissed. Charis, Calder thought. He grinned—his chance to be Second Mate was gone.

  “I don’t see a way up,” the first man, Santu, said. “Think they went that way?”

  “You can’t even climb rigging,” someone else, a woman, said. “I’m not surprised you don’t think you can climb that.”

  “I can rig with the best—”

  “Shut up!” Charis, again. “I don’t see a way up, even for someone who can rig as well as Rahm. We split up: Santu, you and Enni go east, and we’ll go west. Shout if you see any sign of them.”

  Calder closed his eyes in relief as the searchers left.

  He must have drifted off. The sun had moved, and his head felt hot. He squinted and looked over to see Dagrun, the water skin draped over her face, staring over at him, grinning.

  “You slept,” she said. “Luckily no one came back this way.”

  “Luckily,” he repeated. “I am sorry. How long was I asleep?” He sat up slightly and rolled over, inching up to the edge of the rock. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Did it mean he subconsciously trusted Dagrun?

  “An hour,” Dagrun replied. “The ship is still out there. Here.” She handed him the water skin.

  He took a sip. The water skin was less than half full. They’d need to find a spring soon. “What now?” He handed the water back to her.

  “We go that way,” Dagrun said, gesturing past her. “This ledge continues north, where it goes higher. There’s flatter land up top.”

  “Your Trait?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “I looked. Don’t worry, I was careful.”

  “So, we go that way,” Calder agreed. She’d left him sleeping and neither of them had been discovered. Could that be both Luck and Unseen working together? Could they somehow be complementing each other? He had to wonder why Joosep had never assigned more than one Intelligencer—had never combined Traits—for any assignment.

  He looked out at the ship—it was Ansdottir’s Vassan and not the Bright Breeze. Had the Bright Breeze already been taken? There was no activity on the
Vassan: no sails being unfurled, nothing to show that the ship was leaving any time soon.

  “Let’s go,” he said. If Ansdottir wasn’t going to leave, then they had to.

  Dagrun nodded, got up into a crouch, and led the way along the ridge.

  Chapter 11

  THE HALL WAS quiet at this time of night, so only a few people saw Joosep as he walked towards the infirmary.

  He’d received word this morning that Gustav had taken ill, and the timing was suspicious. The lad had become Saulia Holt’s favourite in a very short time, and Joosep worried that Tarmo Holt had discovered that he was an Intelligencer student and poisoned him. Not to kill, thankfully, but to keep him away for a while.

  Now Joosep had to contend with the worst aspects of being the Spymaster: he’d sent one of his people on assignment and they had been hurt, and could have been killed. And even more guilt inducing; Gustav wasn’t fully trained.

  “Gustav,” Joosep said when he was ushered to the boy’s bedside. “How are you?” As always, the minute Gustav’s eyes met his he felt a jolt of pleasure. How was it possible that anyone was even able to poison him? Had it been someone with an opposite Trait, perhaps?

  “Master Intelligencer,” Gustav said, sitting up. “I am sorry I’m ill.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Joosep said, because it was his. “But I am curious to know if the Holt family had any plans that you are now not well enough to attend.” Gustav swung a leg out from under the covers and Joosep stopped him. “I didn’t mean that you needed to go and find out right now. But I am told you are recovering and could have visitors, if any would like to come.”

  “Yes, sir,” Gustav said. “I will send a message directly to Saulia. She’s already sent word that she wants to see me.”

  “I’m sure she does,” Joosep said and smiled a genuine smile. It was very hard not to like this lad, even for him, even knowing it was because of Gustav’s Trait. “I’ll visit again in a few days.”

  He made his way back to his office lost in thought. He’d heard nothing from either Calder or Dagrun, and he had no one else with an appropriate Trait to send after them.