Page 9 of The Sea Witch
Pretending to drink more of her rum, she stood and ambled around the smoke-filled tavern, purposefully making her steps seem aimless when they were far from that.
Whydid Little George want his wake to be held here, on this island, in this tavern? His viciousness was only matched by his cunning, so there had to be a reason that the old barnacle had picked the Wig and Merkin.
Somethingwas here, something that Little George had hidden.
“I’ve another letter,” the one-eyed pirate said, getting back up onto a table. He waved a square of wax-sealed paper over his head. “Supposed to read it once the first round is drunk.”
“Is it extra coin for more rum?” someone shouted, followed by raucous laughter.
“Down to the depths with ye, Van der Meer,” the one-eyed man yelled back.
Alys listened to the sniping as she continued her reconnaissance of the tavern. The Wig and Merkin was a two-story structure, with a staircase leading up to a catwalk, and branching off thecatwalk were rooms, likely where seafarers would take their pleasure with lovers for hire. It was much like any tavern at any number of lawless pirate-infested towns scattered across the Caribbean. Nothing special about it.
At the top of the stairs, though, was a window. Candlelight glinted on the glass.
She straightened and, as discreetly as possible, began to climb the staircase. Windows in and of themselves weren’t so out of the ordinary. They were needed to let in breezes that might cool down the tropical atmosphere that collected heavily indoors, yet the fact that this window held expensiveglasswas unusual. Especially considering that all the other windows were simply open to the elements.
As she eased her way up each step, the one-eyed man continued to read.
“Before the Brethren of the Coast,” he said, “I make my full confession to unburden me heavy heart. I been colludin’ with Admiral Strickland of the British Navy, using me own secret abilities as a mage. ’Twas I who helped him create the magic to bind a leviathan to the navy’s will, to help him build up the Crown’s power here in the Caribbean. Power used to fight and destroy pirates.”
Alys paused in her climb as the gathered crowd muttered in angry shock. Little George had been cunning to the last. Not only was he actually a mage, but he’d worked with the enemy to use magic against his own buccaneer comrades.
Every pirate lived in terror of the navy’s leviathan. It accompanied the naval flagship, and was unbeatable in combat. Dozens of pirate ships had been destroyed by the beast. Alys and theSea Witchhad fortunately never encountered the British man-o’-war and the leviathan. Thank the tides for that. But no thanks to Little George for creating the problem in the first place. It was only a matter of time before she and her crew found themselves facing the naval flagship and the creature theyhad enslaved, and when that happened, may all the goddesses of the sea protect her and theSea Witch.
Damn Little George.
Yet, it was impossible to be disappointed in someone who had been a devious and underhanded bastard to all who knew him. There wasn’t a man in the tavern who hadn’t in some way been deceived by Little George.
When Alys had met him, he’d stared at her as if conniving some way to slip poison into her rum. Considering that he was also secretly a mage, it was a damned shock that he hadn’t snuck a potion into her drink that could’ve turned her into a crab. Either she’d been beneath his regard, or—and this was what she suspected—he had some hidden plan for her. One that brought her here tonight, amongst pirates who had sailed these waters for far longer than she had.
“If I be dead,” the letter went on, “know ye that me murderers serve the king, and I be surely double-crossed. But I see the blade comin’ for me throat, and so I’ve made a fail-safe to be used against me betrayers. This fail-safe do sever the magic that tethers the leviathan to the navy, freein’ the beast.”
More growls sounded from the crowd, but even as Alys continued up the stairs, she kept careful attention on the letter still being read.
“The fail-safe be hidden,” it went on to say, “to keep it from fallin’ into the Royal Navy’s hands. But I trust in me fellow pirates to find it, for it can only be discovered by those who know these waters as well as I—your most ever lovin’ and deadly Little George Partridge.”
While the buccaneers muttered amongst themselves about what all of this meant, Alys reached the landing at the top of the stairs. A corridor stretched ahead of her, lined with doors that led to the prostitutes’ rooms, but her interest lay elsewhere. After making certain no one was looking in her direction, she peered closely at the window.
“Holy hell,” she murmured under her breath.
A message had been etched into one of the panes of glass.
“Weigh anchor!” somebody shouted below. “?’Tis the Navy!”
This was Benjamin Priestley’s chance. His hand upon the pommel of his cutlass faintly shook. The metal rattled until he released his grip.
“You’re a sailing master, Priestley.” Lieutenant Oliver folded his arms across the wide breadth of his chest, broadened from the exercise of personally administering the many floggings their commanding officer was so fond of bestowing. “Your duties are with the ship, not mucking up our opportunity to finally capture scores of pirates. What do you even know of close combat?”
“I defeat you,” Ben answered, “each time we spar.”
“You can’t win a ruthless war on a battlefield because you beat your opponent at chess in the drawing room,” the first mate said.
Ben fought for calm as he faced his admiral in the HMSJupiter’s great cabin. The admiral’s quarters ran the length of the back of the ship, as excruciatingly tidy as one might expect from a commanding officer who ran his ship with the same ruthless efficiency. All the charts were carefully rolled up, the books upon the built-in shelves smartly arranged by subject matter as well as height, and the bedlinens on the berth appeared lacquered on. No pictures of a spouse or lover, but then, Admiral Strickland always said that anything other than his ship was a mewling distraction hardly worth the trouble.
“Our ship’s navigation falls tome,” Ben said to his admiral, “andIhave been the one responsible for tracking down every lead on capturing pirates, getting us to the proper locations to intercept them. The more time we spend here in counterproductive argument, the greater the likelihood that all of the buccaneers gathering in St. Gertrude will slip through our grasp.”
Oliver opened his mouth, but their commanding officer spoke first.
