A Challenge
“S tevic,” Mead said, “your crew has had the talk. If they interfere, they’ll be killed. Those who’d like to may join my crew. The rest, well, they get to stay on the island. They’re lucky. It’s bountiful. You—” and she pointed at him, and then Laren, “and you, and those women, are going to Varos.”
“No!” Melry cried.
Two of the pirates grabbed her and started to pummel her. Laren lunged toward her but was caught by another pair of pirates. “Leave her alone!”
“Melry!” Stevic shouted. They would not think twice about beating and killing her if they thought her too much trouble, and he could tell by the tensing of both crews a brawl was brewing. It would be a bloodbath since Mead’s folk held all the weapons.
Laren had quieted and tugged her arms free of the pirates who held her. “Silence!” Her order rang out with such authority that everyone paused, including Melry. “Such behavior is not to be tolerated in front of our guests.”
Guests? he wondered.
“Guests?” Melry echoed.
Everyone stared at Laren in incredulity, including Mead.
“I trust your flagship is close by?” Laren asked Mead.
Mead scrunched up her eyebrows. “Anchored in a quiet little bay on the north side of the island. This lagoon’s too shallow for her draft.”
“I see. Well, my ladies and I should like to prepare a special supper to honor our guests, and also as a gesture of leave-taking. We’ve a very good cook, a hull with barrels of Rhovanny’s finest, and the island is, as you say, bountiful.”
What, Stevic wondered, was she up to? Everyone appeared as perplexed as he felt, but he decided he’d better roll with it. “Yes, of course. For old time’s sake, eh, Mead?”
“That’s Captain Humble to you,” she said.
“Of course. I apologize, Captain Humble.” He bowed as he spoke.
Amina made a query in what he thought was Varosian. Laren did not answer, but she made some sort of subtle hand signal in reply, or maybe she was just waving an insect away.
“What are you waiting for?” she demanded of the crew. “Get to work!”
“What the hells?” Mead demanded, “I’m in—”
“Captain, how many crew members have you?” Laren asked.
“Two hundred on Chance,” she replied, “twenty-five on Stargazer, and this lot here is forty souls. Why—?”
Laren walked away and started organizing work parties of both crews with her ladies following in her wake to assist. The crews scrambled to obey her, for this was not simply Laren Mapstone snapping out orders, but Colonel Mapstone.
As Stevic understood it, Green Riders didn’t march or drill, or at least not often, for they relied more on self-discipline than regimented unit cohesion.
Their relationship with their officers was more relaxed than the regular military, though when required, they listened up and followed orders, and always deferred to their officers.
Laren had long years of command, much battle experience, including against the Darrow Raiders, and it was all in her voice and posture as she strode about the deck, handing out assignments.
She wasn’t King Zachary’s close adviser just because they were friends, but because she was experienced and capable.
Authority radiated from her. Messenger ’s crew, and even Mead’s loosely disciplined pirates, practically tripped over themselves to obey.
Mead sidled up to him. “What is it with your woman? Whatever she’s up to, it will change nothing.”
He grinned. “Magnificent, isn’t she?”
Mead scowled.
“And,” he added, “she is not my woman. She is her own person. No one owns her.”
“Wrong. King Farrad Vir owns her.”
“He will never own her,” he replied.
“What are you saying, Stevic?”
“I’m saying that if you knew her history, you might understand.”
“That’s no answer.”
“We go back a ways, you and I,” he said. “In the full of our youth we made it together through difficult circumstances and some good times, too. Remember that tavern fight in Port Palm?”
“How could I forget? You dropped an eel in Harkins’ ale.”
They both laughed.
“Poor old Harkins,” Mead said. “His captain keel-hauled him a few years ago for stealing her portion of a prize taken off a Rhovan merchant.”
“You?” Stevic asked, sobering.
She nodded. “I was that captain. It was unpleasant to have to punish him so, but I have to maintain authority over these thieves and murderers.”
“Of course.”
“You know, Stevic, if you joined up with me, I’d forget about your bounty on Varos. I’d even let you keep command of this ship. We’d have more good times.”
“I thought you wanted to retire.”
She shrugged. “If you came on, I’d stay on. I bet Sevano would join us.”
He shook his head. “I’m past that life, too old and set in my ways. Sevano even more so. Besides, I’ve a clan to look after and a daughter. And Laren.”
“And you’ll do better at taking care of those things from Varos? Or after whatever it is King Farrad Vir wants to do to you? You may think me cruel for keel-hauling Harkins, but anything King Farrad Vir had in mind to do to you would be far worse.”
“My understanding is that King Farrad Vir has a lot on his hands right now. Seems like I’d be the least of his worries.”
“Word is, he’s furious. But what do you know of it?”
“I know the woman who endangered his kingdom by fomenting rebellion among the Kir-kranyans.”
She gazed across the deck where Laren stood consulting with Elgin. Crew members were bringing up casks of wine and throwing them overboard to be floated ashore. Already cookfires were being lit on the beach.
“You are telling me your woman started that?” There was incredulity in her voice.
“Again, she is not my woman. And yes.” He wasn’t about to reveal that her ability as a truth-teller had abandoned her. That information might be used to their advantage against Mead. The only others who knew were Elgin and Melry.
Mead seemed to reassess as she watched Laren. Then she shook her head. “Doesn’t change anything. We’re going to Varos, and I am only permitting this”—she swept her hand wide to indicate all the activity—“because my crews could use a break and some frivolity. It took some work to catch up with you.”
“And if King Farrad Vir is no more by the time we reach Varos?”
“Then we’ll see. Think on my offer, darling. If you accept, you’ll still be able to see your daughter.” She strode off shouting orders at her people.
He watched the activity speculatively. He wasn’t sure what Laren was up to with organizing a “supper of leave-taking.” Maybe it was just to buy time, in which case he needed to come up with a plan to avoid a journey back to Varos, and more importantly, how to prevent slaughter to accomplish it.
· · ·
Torches and a bonfire provided festive light on the beach when evening arrived.
Sailors and passengers feasted and drank.
Mead’s crew gulped down the fine Rhovan wine as if it were ordinary swill.
Laren watered hers down a great deal, and Stevic advised his own crew to do the same.
Should fights and bloodshed break out, having at least one side maintain its wits might prevent an all-out bloodbath.
So far the crews seemed to be getting on, playing cards, tossing dice, playing music on pipe and fiddle, and mostly eating and drinking.
Cook sacrificed their hog for the event.
Whether Messenger went back to Varos or on to Sacoridia, they could do without it.
Melry and others had caught a good deal of fish and they’d seabirds, conchs, and more crabs to add variety.
Yet again, Cook had outdone himself, marshalling assistants to help with all the butchery, peeling, and cooking.
Stevic sat at the table of honor—a couple planks placed atop barrels.
Laren had placed Mead at the table’s head, and Stevic to one side, and herself to the other.
She wore her full uniform, its glorious gold-embroidered feather embellishments and colonel’s insignia agleam in the torchlight.
She looked formidable. Mead, by contrast, in her usual pirate attire looked haggard and drowned in shadow.
Stevic had dressed himself in his finest garb, but without the longcoat because of the warmth—he did not know how Laren could stand hers.
Seated at the table were also Mead’s officers, and his own officers, including Sevano.
“So, you’re a messenger,” Mead said to Laren. She didn’t water her wine down, but she was canny enough not to take more than infrequent sips.
“She is colonel of the king’s own messengers,” Stevic said.
“So, I guess that means you report to a general.”
“No,” Laren replied. “I report directly to the king and queen.”
“Huh.”
He had not had much of a chance to confer with Laren as to what she was planning.
In fact, she’d been downright cagey. He had not come up with a plan of his own that wouldn’t end in blood, so he was pleased she had something in mind.
He just wished she’d give him some indication of what it was so he could be prepared to help.
“Laren is far more than a colonel,” Stevic said. “She is an important adviser to the king.”
“That so?” Mead said.
“Laren and King Zachary have long been friends.”
“That must be very special for you,” Mead told her.
Laren gave her a cold smile.
“How long have the two of you been—?” Mead made a crude gesture with her hands.
Stevic bit back a heated reply. “We’ve been serious for about a year, but we met going on six years.” He stabbed a butterfruit with his knife. “When my daughter first joined the Green Riders.”
Mead sipped her wine. “Your daughter, is she Kariny’s get?”
He chopped the butterfruit in half with more force than necessary.
“You always talked about the girl, Kariny,” Mead continued. “How you’d go back to her when you made your fortune with the Gold Hunter. Then you gave up. You started making me a part of your dreams.”
He pared the butterfruit and popped a piece into his mouth. It was bitter, not ripe enough, and he spat it out.
“But then you took to the land,” Mead said, “and you left me behind.”
“As I recall,” he said, “after the demise of the Gold Hunter you sought out another ship.”
“You could have joined with me.” Her face grew hard. “Apparently you wanted this Kariny more than me.”
Laren appeared to observe their conversation with a discomfiting amount of interest. It was not really something he wished to discuss. He’d never really talked about his pirate years in detail with her. He had believed those days done long ago.
“I left that life,” he said, “and returned to the mainland with all I ever learned from Captain Ifior and my time on the Gold Hunter. I worked to build a name for myself. A new life. I was successful and was able to bring Kariny from Black Island to Corsa to be with me.”
Mead sawed into a hunk of pork. “I’ve heard of the G’ladheon merchanting clan.” She laughed. “I’ve taken ships with some of your goods on them. But, oh, how you mooned over that girl. Kariny this, Kariny that even after you settled for me.”
He bristled, well-aware she was goading him. “Mead, you know perfectly well it was nothing like that.”
“Wasn’t it though? And what ever became of her that you’ve taken up with a messenger? Or, is she back in Corsa unaware?”
“She passed away over twenty years ago. Fever took her.”
“Huh. Sorry about that, Stevic.” She raised her goblet. “To Kariny, then.” And she drank.
Stevic did not raise his cup as he knew she was far from sorry. He gazed across the table. Laren ate very little, but then she was always a light eater. Sevano next to her chewed mechanically and seemed uninterested in the chatter of the officers. Amina remained silent, as well.
The revelers were not quiet. Many shouted and laughed, the music echoing along the lagoon. A sailor took a piss nearby in the bushes.
“You should enjoy the night while you can,” Mead said, “for tomorrow we set sail for Varos.”
“About that,” Laren said, “I am not going.”
Mead nearly spilled wine she laughed so hard. “Oh, you are going.”
“Then you will have to take my corpse.”
“Laren—” Stevic began.
Mead sobered. “If you are talking about taking your own life, I won’t have it. I’ll put you in shackles first. Or have you poisoned yourself?”
“I refuse to be enslaved again. And it is not happening. And poison? Oh, no. I want to make myself clear. I intend to return to Sacoridia, but if I am prevented, I will go dead to Varos.”
“Like I said,” Mead replied, “I’ll put you in shackles.”
“You misunderstand, Captain Humble,” Laren said. “I propose an alternative.”
“An alternative? I have got to hear this.”
“A duel,” Laren replied calmly. “To the death.”
Stevic jumped to his feet ready to leap across the table and shake her. “Laren! Have you lost your mind?”
“Not in the slightest. You know my feelings on this, Stevic.”
Mead shifted on her seat and reappraised Laren. “Well, well, the messenger has iron balls. I’ll give her that.”
Oh, Laren, he thought. Mead was an accomplished fighter and...murderer. Laren was battle proven, but had spent more time at a desk in recent years than honing her fighting skills. And she had all too recently been deathly ill.
“A duel, eh?” Mead murmured. “Challenge accepted.”