Chapter 10
CHAPTER
Reid stared at the pirate, torn between lying and telling the full truth.
Strategy, at least between people, had never been his area of expertise.
On the battlefield he could maneuver soldiers like chess pieces, yet conversation had always gotten the better of him.
In hindsight, it was foolish to assume he could keep his identity concealed for long.
But what he hadn’t expected was for a pirate to be the person to uncover it.
For her to have a map of the continent more accurate than any of his armies.
She smiled as if her ability to be two steps ahead thrilled her. “I’m not as ignorant as that merchant. If he’d known who you were, he’d have brought your head to Mekes.”
Reid pursed his lips. The warmth started to seep into his body, providing a disarming relief he was suddenly terrified to lose. “Is that your plan? To turn us over to Asterya?”
Leaning back, the pirate held his eyes firmly as she said, “I would rather set myself on fire than give that empire something it craves.”
Perhaps she was closer to an ally than Reid thought. The corners of his mouth tugged into a smile. “If you know who I am, then you know I can make good on my deal.”
She tilted her head. “Can you?”
“I told you: Name your price.”
She gestured to the chair in front of her desk. “Take a seat.”
Reid settled in as the pirate’s knife clattered on the desk. She used a torn green cloth to wipe her hands of the acrid-smelling polish covering her fingers, then tossed it down next to the knife. “Your blades must be wrecked,” she said, extending a hand.
“Are you asking me to hand over my weapons?”
She gave a one-sided grin. “You’re smarter than you look.”
Reid scoffed, crossing his arms, waiting for her to continue speaking. Instead, she passed the polish and the green cloth to him. “Have at it yourself, then.”
He slid a knife from his belt and began to polish it, waiting patiently for her to tell him what she wanted.
For a long moment she was quiet, discerning. It reminded him of the times he had sat in silence, waiting for Vaasa to collect her thoughts and tell him something worth hearing. He had never pushed her into speaking, but it was a testament of patience, just like waiting for this pirate was now.
She let out a sigh. “I want a pardon.”
Reid looked up through his lashes, only taking his gaze off his weapon for a moment. “I’ll give you letters of marque. You can pirate the rivers all you wish.”
“It’s not for me,” she clarified. “And I don’t need some useless document giving me permission to do what I already do. I need an Icrurian pardon for someone; he will need asylum.”
“Why?”
“Six months ago, my brother was imprisoned by Dominik Kozár.”
Reid’s hand didn’t miss a beat as he continued to work the polish into the blade, yet his mind reeled. She was asking for a pardon for her brother—a seemingly selfless act. It contradicted his initial impression of her. “Done.”
She quirked a brow. “You don’t even know what his crime was.”
With a shrug of his left shoulder, Reid said, “I don’t need to. Done. What else do you want?”
The pirate pursed her full lips. “I need help freeing him. I know a lord who has a connection to the prison, but it’s going to cost far more than I can ask my crew to afford. That’s where you come in.”
Reid ran his tongue along his teeth, but the truth was that he didn’t care what it cost. He set down the green cloth, still holding his blade in his hand. “Give me a figure.”
“I want access to your salt.”
Reid remained composed, trying not to give his shock away too quickly.
These sorts of deals were not his strength; he did far better with a battlefield than he did the economy.
But his predecessor had laid a blueprint he could follow.
He could, at least in his mind, pretend to be Marc.
The man’s impassive face shone behind Reid’s eyes.
That was one of the ways Reid had gotten through the more difficult economic decisions in the past five years—he asked himself what Marc would have done.
“Access to my salt?” Reid asked.
“A line of trade will be enough to sate the lord I’d like to work with,” the pirate confirmed. “He has a friend who works closely with the lord of the prison. I’m confident he can get us answers about how to break in, perhaps even assistance from his men.”
Reid was not usually one to make a false deal or bargain something he didn’t actually intend to give.
Truthfully, he had no interest in working with the lord in question, though he needn’t say as much.
This deal was temporary. Icruria couldn’t guide forces through the Loursevain Gap just yet, but Reid believed that someday they would.
Someday soon. And when that happened, when Asterya finally fell, he saw no need to keep delivering salt to some lord he would inevitably remove.
For now, Reid had one goal, and one goal only: to get his wife back. Whatever it took to accomplish that goal was worth doing. “Fine. I’ll facilitate some kind of trade agreement.”
The pirate gave a firm nod. “I have one more demand.”
“I’m listening.”
“I want your witch to train me.”
The floor might have slipped out from beneath his feet. He narrowed his eyes. “You want her to… train you?”
“Yes. In magic. It’s the only thing left I don’t already have that your party can offer me.”
Could a Veragi witch even help someone from another coven? Knowing his mother, she would try. She would do it out of the goodness of her heart. If he knew anything of magic, it was that left untrained, it became incredibly painful.
Luckily for him, he wasn’t as kind as his mother. “Only if you bring my party to the Iron Bay and then take us back to Icruria, all of our loved ones in tow.”
Reid got the feeling this woman had never done anything without a backup plan, and the thought concerned him.
Especially as he glanced at the iron-wrought map along her wall.
She could very well lure them into the Iron Bay, slaughter them all, and dump his body in front of the gates to the fortress.
She could demand her lost prisoner as her reward, and surely Ozik would grant it to her.
It all hinged on the thread of rage—of hatred—that sparked in the pirate’s eyes at the mention of Dominik.
The greatest problem for conquerors was that they had no shortage of enemies; whatever had been stolen from this woman needed to be enough to make her an ally.
Given her flawless use of Icrurian and the magic that soaked her veins, she must be from a bloodline native to Icruria. To Sigguth.
But if she was here, it was possible Icruria had made an enemy of her, too.
Still, the woman balanced her blade in her fingers, letting it tip from left to right as she stared at him. “I want asylum for the members of my crew who choose to take it. All the best comforts in your capital. When this is over, they won’t be able to return to Asterya.”
“And yourself?”
She merely shrugged. “Sure.”
The pirate confounded him, but she was right. If they succeeded, without a doubt this crew would never make it back in and out of Asterya alive. This would be the end of her pirating—it would sever any relationship she had with Mekes.
“Deal,” Reid said.
“Deal,” she repeated.
Reid reached out his arm, the Icrurian way of greeting and symbolizing trust, but the pirate looked at it. She scoffed. “I’m not your friend, Wolf.”
He chuckled, perhaps nervously, and dropped his arm. “What is your name, then?”
Power threaded the room as the pirate—or witch, whatever the hell she was—said, “Sachia, captain of The Red Corsair.”
With each moment Reid spent above deck, he got a better understanding of the long stretch of sea that led into the Iron Bay.
Cays littered the ocean between Zataar and Asterya, and their ship carefully avoided coming too close to any of them.
“Each island belongs to different crews,” Sachia told him one morning as they stared out at the open ocean.
“Kings in their own right, some even have castles to prove it.”
The entire way of life confounded him. “They’re like individual nations, then?” Reid asked.
“No.” Sachia stared out at the water, her hands curling around the gunwale. “Everyone gets in bed with Asterya or Zataar at some point. Some whore themselves to both. Those people wind up rich or dead.”
At that, Reid went rigid. He wondered if that was what had happened to Sachia’s brother.
The enormous glaciers and icebergs of the Sheets lent to tumultuous, freezing-cold water. Assurance rode his bones; the Icrurian army could not navigate this side of the continent and avoid the pirates in time to conquer Mekes.
They would need to go through the Loursevain Gap.
Dressed in warm leathers, a fur-lined cloak, and thick gloves, the numbness of Reid’s hands had ceased, the ever-present trembling of shivers long gone.
Sachia had made their entire party comfortable, had treated them like members of her crew.
They’d been given one of the private quarters in the hull to share.
They slept on hammocks that were strung from the ceiling, and though it was nothing like his bed at home, it was far superior to the floor and thin padding they’d slept on in the merchant’s boat.
“Off the stern!” the quartermaster, who Reid had learned was named Joná?, alerted.
Reid and Koen turned at the same time. Behind them, a set of white sails billowed in the wind, a ship moving with incredible speed. To keep up with Sachia’s boat was a feat itself, but to overtake—
“She slowed down,” Koen whispered from beside Reid, realizing how this ship had caught up to The Red Corsair in the first place. Sachia had wanted it to. She’d been standing here, waiting for this very moment.
How long ago had she spotted it?
A loud boom sounded.