Pirates & Privateers Page 5

  “That’s a decent way to do things,” Dag said. And it was, if it was true. Inger seemed so happy about it that Dag didn’t voice her concerns. Besides, her Trait would show her whether it was true. And they’d be going back to the Hall anyway. Or they would once she figured out what to do about Joosep.

  “I like it,” Inger said. “Ursa is fair and the work is fun, although I’m on my feet a lot.”

  “What about the customers? Do they ever trouble you?”

  “They wouldn’t dare,” Inger said. “Ursa owns pretty much every business on Strongrock. If she banned them they’d have nowhere to eat or drink other than their own ship or cabin.”

  “I thought Strongrock was Ostland territory,” Dag asked. “Ursa didn’t strike me as an Ostlander.”

  “She’s not,” Inger said. “At least she says she’s not, but she’s never told me what country she is from.” Inger grabbed another piece of toast. “And when I started working here she told me that Strongrock—and especially her—are neutral. No country has a real hold on anything here.”

  “I guess that would be good for the pirates,” Dag said. Someplace where no country had jurisdiction? That was exactly what they would want in order to sleep soundly at night without worrying about being raided and rounded up for their crimes.

  “They’re not pirates!” Inger stared at her. “They’re privateers.”

  “So, they don’t rob ships?”

  “Well,” Inger paused. “All right, they do, but only the ships they suspect are bringing in goods that are a danger to the Fair Seas Treaty Alliance countries.”

  “How do they know which ships to target?” Dag asked. Targeting specific shipments made her suspicious. And what happened to these dangerous goods? She’d never heard of any dangerous goods being handed over to the Fair Seas Treaty Alliance. Joosep would know that, wouldn’t he? And because of her Trait, she would know it too.

  She frowned. She liked it better when she thought they were simply pirates stealing valuables from everyone.

  “Captain Margit Ansdottir finds out,” Inger said. “She knows people who warn her which ships to look out for. The captain is a great friend of Ursa’s; she’s the one who brought me here.”

  “Captain Ansdottir brought you here,” Dag repeated. “Why?” She was itchy between her shoulder blades: her Trait letting her know that there was some hidden reason behind the Captain of the privateers being great friends with the woman who owned everything on the island.

  “She found me by the docks.” Inger gave a wry smile. “Because of course someone would find me. Anyway, she was picking up two children that she was bringing to Strongrock when she saw me.” Inger shrugged. “I didn’t know what I should do, and I must have looked a little lost. So, the Captain asked if I’d like to come here.”

  “Why?” Dag asked. “Why would she offer to bring you here?”

  “It’s what she does,” Inger replied. “There’s a woman who lives in one of the shanties by the port who takes in children who have no one. Captain Margit meets with her every few weeks and brings any children she’s found here. Apparently, spring is the busiest time for foundlings. Things happen over the winter and children are left on their own.”

  “Who told you this?” Inger had just confirmed the story about unwanted children she’d heard from the woman she’d met on the pier.

  “The two children who came here on the same ship,” Inger said. “They were sisters and their parents were both dead. Their father died just this past winter, leaving them alone. They walked to North Tarklee from their cabin when they ran out of food. They were starving on the streets when the woman took them in. She fed them and kept them warm and safe until Captain Margit showed up.”

  “There are orphanages in the city,” Dag said. “Why didn’t the woman take the children there?” She wished she’d asked that woman this question, but she’d been too intent on finding Inger. She still didn’t like the idea of children being taken—abducted—from Nordmere.

  “I guess she gave them the choice,” Inger said, but she didn’t sound very confident. “If I was given the choice between an orphanage and the Fair Seas Seafarers, I know which one I’d choose.”

  “These are children,” Dag said. “Of course, they’re going to choose the Fair Seas Sea . . . whatever in Nyorden that is.”

  “It’s what the privateers call themselves,” Inger said. “The Fair Seas Seafarers, on account of—”

  “I know what it’s on account of,” Dag said. “But why are they naming themselves after the Fair Seas Treaty Alliance? Especially when they have nothing to do with it?”

  “I’m not sure,” Inger said. “But they’ve helped me. Both Captain Margit and Ursa have helped me.”

  “They have,” Dag agreed, still no closer to understanding why they had helped Inger. Or why they were bringing children here to Strongrock Island.

  Inger put her dishes on the tray and stood up. “I have to wash up,” she said. “I’ll have some time off in the afternoon, but right now I have to get ready for the noon meal service.” She grabbed a few things from the cupboard that was set into the wall near the small window. “There’s a closet outside to wash up in,” she said, “beside the door that leads here to the staff quarters. It’s cold seawater, but it does the trick.”

  “All right,” Dag said. She put her plate and mug on the tray. “Will most of the staff be busy during noon service?” At Inger’s nod, she continued. “I’ll wash up then. For now, I’ll take the tray down and wander around for an hour or so.” She shoved her feet into her boots, picked up the tray, and left with Inger.

  Downstairs, Ursa pointed her to the kitchen, where she left the tray. A door leading outside was ajar and she stepped out to the rear of the tavern. A rocky slope rose up steeply and Dag peered up at the top. She didn’t see any obvious trail leading up: was anything up there? It would be a very good place to view any approaching ships.

  Inger waved at her from outside of a square, wooden closet-like structure built against the wall of the tavern. Water sluiced into it from a trough that led down from the roof. With a thunk a metal slat dropped, blocking the flow of water.

  Dag waved back at Inger but didn’t head her way, deciding to let her sister get ready for work in peace. Instead, she headed in the opposite direction.

  Chapter 4

  CALDER WAVED HIS hat—complete with snow white owl feathers—at the man standing by the dinghy. He was wearing his most flamboyant set of clothes: a ridiculous hat, a shirt with multiple bows and great billowy arms, a sharkskin vest that was the least gaudy yet the most expensive piece of clothing he wore, and a pair of shiny black trousers. His feet were bare—no one would hire on a sailor who wore anything on his feet, even if he was sensibly dressed.

  “Is your ship taking on experienced sailors?” Calder shouted. “I’m looking for working passage to the Sapphire Sea.” Once he reached the sailor, he flourished a bow. “I’ve had word that my father’s father has taken ill.”

  “And you want to be there when the family goods are divvied up?” the sailor eyed him. “We’re not heading that far. Just to Strongrock.”

  “That would do for me,” Calder said. “I can likely get a ship from there to the Sapphire Sea.”

  “Captain’s on shore,” the sailor said. “We’ll be leaving as soon as he gets back from his business.”

  “Then I shall wait and ask him when he returns if he has need of me,” Calder said. “I’m Rahm,” he said, using his father’s name.

  “Tepio,” the sailor said. “And the Captain is Olmar, of the Bright Breeze; as fine a ship as ever sailed any sea.”

  “How many seas has she sailed?” Calder asked. It wasn’t a ship he was familiar with, so it was probably not a Merchant Adventurer. If it was a ship that only traded along the Pale Sea that would be Lucky: it meant no one would recognize him. “I remember one time in Arressa, when the waves were as tall as the mast . . .”

  Calder kept Tepio entertained with stor
y after story about real and imagined events. It was what was expected, from a sailor dressed like he was, but he made sure to sprinkle in enough truth for Tepio to believe he was what he said he was: a well-travelled, experienced sailor.

  Captain Olmar wouldn’t hire him without knowing he had some skills, and Calder was hoping that he’d trust Tepio to assess him. Not that he expected any great responsibilities onboard.

  “There’s the Captain now,” Tepio said as he gestured to a barrel-chested man in a dark overcoat.

  He looked more like a Freeholder than the captain of a ship, and Calder wondered what cargo they hauled. And if Strongrock was as far west as they ever went.

  “Captain Olmar,” Tepio said when he stopped in front of them. “This here’s Rahm. He’s looking to work as far as Strongrock, if you’re taking on anyone else.”

  “Strongrock? What’s your business there?” Olmar asked.

  Calder bowed low, sweeping his hat along the dock. “I am Rahm, from Pilalia on the Sapphire Sea. I have no business in Strongrock other than the hope that I can find a ship heading to my home. I have family business that requires my presence.”

  “His father’s father is ill,” Tepio interjected.

  “Is he?” Olmar asked. “In Pilalia?” He turned back to Calder. “What part of Pilalia?” Olmar asked in Pilalian. “I know the place very well.”

  “It’s a small town along the northern coast,” Calder answered in the same language. “Named Shiori.” It wasn’t unusual for the captain of a ship to speak Pilalian or any of the other half-dozen languages of sailors.

  “Shiori, yes, I believe I’ve been there.”

  “I am surprised,” Calder said. “It’s not much more than a fishing village, which is why there are so many of us who take to the sea.” Calder grinned. “But family is enough to take me back there,” he said in Nordmerian.

  The captain looked at Tepio, who nodded.

  “All right,” Olmar said. “You can crew with us as far as Strongrock. Tepio will introduce you to the First Mate and get you settled.”

  “Thank you, Captain Olmar,” Calder said, but he was already speaking to the man’s back. The captain stepped into the dinghy, followed by Tepio. Calder got in and with a wave at Tepio, seated himself at the oars.

  Tepio pointed at a ship that looked capable of sailing to the Sapphire Sea, rather than a more squat log hauler that would be limited to the Pale Sea. That made him wonder at Captain Olmar’s skills: the farther you travelled the more profitable trade was. He supposed he would learn why if it was important to finding the Lund sisters.

  For now, Calder rowed them away from the dock toward the ship. He would only be on board for the few days it took to get to Strongrock, but friends were always good to have. By relieving Tepio of the chore of rowing, Calder hoped he’d made one of him.

  First Mate Charis, an Arressan, took an instant dislike to Calder, due, no doubt, to the troubled history between Arressa and Pilalia. Calder did his best to seem harmless and took his assignment to help Cook in stride. No doubt his Luck was at play with this kitchen duty, even if all it meant was that he got to eat well.

  Cook was like most cooks on ships; an older sailor who could no longer haul in the sheets or clamber up the rigging. It wasn’t the first time Calder had peeled potatoes and chopped onions. He did it with a sense of the dramatic, keeping Cook entertained with embellished tales of adventures and helping him with a new seasoning for the fish stew.

  All of which made him a friend of Cook and an enemy of Charis by the time the noon meal had been served.

  Calder ignored the scowls Charis sent his way but he was curious why someone of the First Mate’s rank would even care about a sailor who would be on board for such a short time. He wiped down the tables and scrubbed the pots, waiting until his Trait gave him some clues.

  IT HAD ONLY taken Dag a few minutes to wander through the town. Beside the tavern and inn, there was a store with a large warehouse attached and a few huts for woodworking or smoking fish. A cluster of small cabins looked neglected: no doubt they belonged to sailors who lived mostly at sea.

  The only ship in the small harbour was the one she’d arrived on, but there were a dozen smaller boats; some were dinghies, used to fish or ferry sailors from ship to shore, but Dag had been surprised to see three of the smaller, sleeker sailboats that could be fitted with runners to skim across the ice in the winter.

  Iceboats were mostly used to travel up the frozen rivers in winter, so she’d thought. What use would they be here in the middle of the Pale Sea? Although she supposed that a skilled sailor might be able to travel as far as Ostland in one during the summer months. There was little room for cargo so it would be used as a personal craft only.

  When she’d wandered back to the store front, Dag had noticed a group of people waiting in line at a well.

  “Is this the main source of fresh water?” she asked a woman with a bucket. Dressed in trousers, shirt, and vest, the woman’s feet were bare.

  “Only source that’s public,” the woman replied. “Tavern and inn have their own well, so I hear. And there’s a spring up above.” She gestured to the hill that rose steeply above the town. “I climbed up once. Not much to look at—the spring—but the view’s nice on a clear day.”

  “Thanks,” Dag said. She shaded her face to look at the hill. She thought there was a faint path so she headed towards it.

  Dag climbed up the rock face, clutching at scraggly trees when the path became steeper. She grunted when her boot skidded and some loose dirt tumbled downslope. She grabbed a clump of grass and gingerly pulled on it, testing to make sure it would hold her weight before she hauled herself up another few inches. A few minutes later she was able to stand up on a flat rock. From here the path sloped up more gently. At the top was a small patch of green grass, and was that a cabin?

  When she got closer, Dag realized that the cabin had been abandoned long ago. Wooden walls were splintered and half of the roof was missing. Past the cabin there were lush bushes and trees and a small stream trickled from between some rocks. The stream travelled a dozen feet before pooling in a small pond. Dag couldn’t see where the water left the pond, and she assumed that it somehow drained to a well below.

  She studied the stream and pond: small animal tracks had been left in the soft soil and the water in the pond wasn’t in the least brackish. If this was the only source for fresh water for Strongrock, it would be very easy to divert it and deprive the town of water.

  She walked over to the edge of the hill and looked down on the town. From here she could see that a well-worn path led past the tavern. She hiked along the edge of the hill until the tavern was directly below her. She could see the washing shed Inger had been standing in front of and beyond it there was a huddle of trees and a few more buildings. What was there? And what about the children Captain Ansdottir brought here? She hadn’t seen any when she’d wandered around the small settlement. Were they kept somewhere else on the island?

  Dag stared at the slope. It looked gentle enough for her to go down this way rather than returning by the path she’d climbed. She took a few steps down.

  “Skit!” The clump of grass her foot was wedged against gave way, and she started sliding down the hill, her hands scrabbling at anything that might stop her. She’d seriously miscalculated the steepness of the slope.

  A rock jabbed her in the hip, and she grunted with pain but at least it slowed her descent. A shower of pebbles and twigs followed her as she continued to slide downward, eventually stopping when the slope finally levelled out.

  Dag sat up, wincing as she drew in a breath. She gingerly stood up and hobbled the rest of the way down the gentle slope until she stood behind the tavern. Now would be a good time to use the washing hut, she thought as she opened the door and stepped inside, and get rid of the dust she was covered in.

  She stripped out of her dirty clothes and shoved them as far away from the overhead bucket as possible. They could use a wash too b
ut she had to put them back on in order to return to Inger’s room.

  She touched her hip—she would have a bruise, but nothing seemed broken. She stepped under the bucket and pulled the rope. And sucked in a breath when the cold water hit her. Once she’d recovered from the initial shock, she rotated as the water sluiced over her.

  It was sea water—she could taste the salt on her lips—and bracing. She let go of the lever and the water stopped. She had nothing to dry herself off with, so she struggled to get her dusty clothes back on. She’d change into clean clothes once she got back to the room.

  Inger was there, sitting on her bed.

  “You missed the noon meal,” Inger said.

  “Sorry,” Dag replied. “We ate breakfast late so I should be fine for a while.” She found her pack and dug out her other set of clothes. “That washing shed is great.”

  “It is, isn’t it? The salt water isn’t the best for the hair,” Inger shook her blonde hair. “But I like it better than what we have at home.”

  At the Hall, they had their own indoor privy with a pump but the tub took a long time to fill. This was much faster.

  “We should talk about home,” Dag said. She pulled on a worn pair of trousers and a top that had once been white but now was a sort of washed-out grey. She still wasn’t sure what she wanted to do about Joosep.

  “I’m not going back,” Inger said. “You can’t make me.”

  Dag took a deep breath in order to force herself from responding immediately. Inger couldn’t mean to stay here forever, could she? She sat on her bed and faced her twin.

  “Can I ask why?” Dag asked.

  “Don’t try to talk me out of it,” Inger responded.

  “I’m not. But I’d like to understand.”

  “Oh, sure,” Inger said. “That’s fair.” She pulled her knees up to her chin. “You’ve always been the special one; the one with the Trait people want. Me? I’ve been the one they tolerate because I’m your sister, and they know they won’t get you without me.”