Red Seas Under Red Skies: The Gentleman Bastard Sequence, Book Two (Gentleman Bastards 2)
3
‘Ahoy the ship,’ cried Locke as the boat nudged up against the Poison Orchid’s side. He released his grip on the oars with relief; Caldris would have been proud of the pace they’d set scudding out of Tal Verrar, through a flotilla of priestly delegations and drunkards, past the flaming galleon and the blackened hulks of the previous sacrifices, through air still choked with grey haze.
‘Gods,’ said Delmastro as she helped them up through the entry port, ‘what happened? Are you hurt?’
‘Got my feelings dented,’ said Jean, ‘but all this blood has been borrowed for the occasion.’
Locke glanced down at his own finery, smeared with the life of at least two of their attackers. He and Jean looked like drunken amateur butchers.
‘Did you get what you needed?’ asked Delmastro.
‘What we needed? Yes. What we might have wanted? No. And from the goddamn mystery attackers that won’t give us a moment’s peace in the city? Far too much.’
‘Who’s this, then?’
‘We have no idea,’ said Locke. ‘How do the bastards know where we are, or who we are? It’s been nearly two months! Where were we indiscreet?’
‘The Sinspire,’ said Jean, a bit sheepishly.
‘How were they waiting for us at the docks, then? Pretty bloody efficient!’
‘Were you followed back to the ship?’ asked Delmastro.
‘Not that we could tell,’ said Jean, ‘but I think we’d be fools to linger.’
Delmastro nodded, produced her whistle and blew the familiar three sharp notes. ‘At the waist! Ship capstan bars! Stand by to weigh anchor! Boatswain’s party, ready to hoist the boat!’
‘You two look upset,’ she said to Locke and Jean as the ship became a whirlwind of activity around them.
‘Why shouldn’t we be?’ Locke rubbed his stomach, still feeling a dull ache where the Sinspire bouncer had struck him. ‘We got away, sure, but someone pinned a hell of a lot of trouble on us in return.’
‘You know what I like to do when I’m in a foul mood?’ said Ezri sweetly. ‘I like to sack ships.’ She raised her finger and pointed slowly across the deck, past the hustling crewfolk, out to sea, where another vessel could just be seen, lit by its stern lanterns against the southern darkness. ‘Oh, look - there’s one right now!’
They were knocking on Drakasha’s cabin door just moments later.
‘You wouldn’t be standing on two legs if that blood was yours,’ she said as she invited them in. ‘Is it too much to hope that it belongs to Stragos?’
‘It is,’ said Locke.
‘Pity. Well, at least you came back. That’s reassuring.’
Paolo and Cosetta were tangled together on their little bed, snoring peacefully. Drakasha seemed to see no need to whisper in their presence. Locke grinned, remembering that he’d learned to sleep through some pretty awful distractions at their age, too.
‘Did you make any real progress?’ asked Drakasha.
‘We bought time,’ said Locke. ‘And we got out of the city. The issue was in doubt.’
‘Captain,’ said Delmastro, ‘we were sort of wondering if we could get started on the next part of this whole scheme a bit early. Like right now.’
‘You want to do some boarding and socializing?’
‘There’s a likely suitor waiting to dance about two miles south by west. Away from the city, outside the reefs—’
‘And the city’s a bit absorbed in the Festa at the moment,’ added Locke.
‘It’d just be a quick visit, like we’ve been discussing,’ said Ezri. ‘Rouse them up, make ’em piss their breeches, loot the purse and the portable goods, throw things overboard, cut some chains and cripple the rigging—’
‘I suppose we have to start somewhere,’ said Drakasha. ‘Del, send Utgar down to borrow some of my silks and cushions. I want a makeshift bed rigged for the children in the rope locker. If I’m going to wake them up to hide them, it’s only fair.’
‘Right,’ said Delmastro.
‘What’s the wind?’
‘Out of the north-east.’
‘Put us around due south, bring it onto the larboard quarter. Reefed topsails, slow and steady. Tell Oscarl to hoist out the boats, behind our hull so our friend can’t see them in the water.’
‘Aye, Captain.’ Delmastro shrugged out of her overcoat, left it on Drakasha’s table and ran from the cabin. A few seconds later Locke could hear commotion on deck: Oscarl shouting about how they’d only just been told to raise the boat, and Delmastro yelling something about soft-handed, slack-witted idlers.
‘You two look ghastly,’ said Zamira. ‘I’ll have to get a new sea-chest to separate the blood-drenched finery from the clean. Confine yourselves to wearing reds and browns next time.’
‘You know, Captain,’ said Locke, staring down at the blood-soaked sleeves of his jacket, ‘that sort of gives me an idea. A really, really amusing idea ...’