Last Revised: 6/11/08

Chapter One

Port Lisile, Lisile – 1653

“Dego, is this not the most hideous get-up you’ve ever seen?” Shon Se’ganui asked his companion. Holding his arms out, he turning around to be inspected.

“It’s something,” Dego replied, frowning.

Shon glanced at his reflection and sneered. The pants – or whatever the Sehmadonians called them – pooled around his legs like windless ivory-colored sails. The sleeves of the shimmering royal blue shirt were much the same, but the rest, along with the heavily embroidered gold vest, were too stiff and tight to allow proper ease of movement. Instead of an overcoat, the clerk had sold him an ivory-colored, sleeveless robe and told him to leave it open if he truly wanted to look the part of a Sehmadonian. As for the footwear… the soles of the peacock-green slippers were so slick, he’d be lucky if he didn’t slip and crack his skull open, and instead of his soft, stained teal sash, he wore a bejeweled green belt that he kept rasping his hands against. It took every ounce of will power to add the final piece to the outfit. The thing could barely be called a hat. It had no brim to keep the sun out of his eyes or water off his face, but sported a ridiculous green feather longer than his forearm. Swallowing his pride, he settled the hat on his head and carefully tucked his dark hair away beneath it as best he could. Not that it would keep his hair out of his eyes for long.

“It had better be worth the small fortune I paid for it and the disgrace of wearing it. Although, I think this is a little better than the frilly lace the members of King Jarketh’s court prefer.”

“Shon… about that. I don’t think this plan of yours is a good idea. In fact, I think it’s lunacy. And I will not be the one to lay bare your life.”

“Lay bare my life? I would have thought that after eighteen years, you would have more faith in me. I’m only in danger if it doesn’t work.”

“I can’t count the number of ways it could fail because there are too many. And you don’t usually let your anger override your judgment. A Sehmadonian galleon bearing the Ambassador and weighted down with all the gold she can carry will be well-guarded.”

“Aye, by two man-o-wars. The Ambassador made a point of mentioning that. A ‘floating fortress’ I believe he said. Could he have been any less imaginative?”

“The Tigereye is a match for nearly any ship the Sehmadonians dare send into our waters, but against such a heavily armed entourage, she’ll be blown to pieces.”

“Which is why I suggested a smaller ship.”

“A single-masted sail boat is not a ship. It’s a fool’s errand.”

Shon’s body went rigid with anger. “Would you ask me to stand by and let them insult my father? You didn’t read that letter, Dego, requiring the hospitality of Lisile and demanding an audience with the Emperor, as if Lisile and all the Pirate Islands belong to Sehmadonis. As if any pirate could be bought off by a single galleon’s weight of gold.”

“I agree that they’re arrogant bastards, and you know I delight in harassing any Sehmadonian foolish enough to be within range of my ship.” Dego paused. “Shon, you’ve never steered me wrong, but the odds of success are not in our favor and if we fail, they’ll execute you.”

“It’s my life to risk, my friend.”

“If you were an ordinary pirate, that would be true.”

“It’s because I’m not an ordinary pirate that I must repay this insult, Dego.”

Beneath the concern in his eyes, a flame of anticipation flickered. With resignation settling over the rest of Dego’s rugged features, that excitement flared. Shon picked up the clothes he’d purchased for the Captain and held them out for the other man to take. Dego inspected the slightly less flashy garb with skepticism and grunted.

“All right, you obstinate, half-blooded, thieving son of Li’sandra, we’ll do this, even if we’ll look like a pack of dandies. But if you die, your mother will surely sink my ship and me along with it.”

“I doubt it. She’d more likely ask her gods to bring me back to life just long enough to kill me again herself. When you’ve dressed, rally the crews of the Tigereye and the Silver Dawn. Our target will be passing through these very waters by supper tonight. If luck is with us, their crew will be lethargic and overconfident.”

“Just two ships? But there must be at least six in port we could invite.”

“Aye, just two, Cap’n,” Shon replied with a grin as he slipped effortlessly into a pirate’s drawl. Sobering again, he added, “Tell the crews to make ready the guns for when we hoist our colors aboard the Agranor’s King. This must be done quickly and precisely.”

“Without a doubt. The gods know neither of us wants to spend more time in these fine rags than we must. So be sure our gear is packed onto that boat, else we’ll never live this down.” Dego sighed. “Fair winds be a pirate’s best friend. Maybe your Elasan blood can help us with that a bit.”

“Fair winds be damned this day,” Shon corrected. “A storm’s what we need and a storm I can provide.”

The storm retreated eastward, leaving the seas unsettled and tinged in blood and shadows in the face of the setting sun. Andrigo reveled in the cool crispness of the air, as if the storm god had washed and blown all the contaminants from the world. If only Jahoran could rid him of the Ambassador, too, but the portly fifth cousin of the King had stayed snuggly and safely in his cabin. Andrigo was glad to be away from him, if only for a brief respite. He wasn’t sure how many more times he could listen to Farudi Mirakea complain about the pointlessness of their journey. Not that the Ambassador could be expected to fully understand why a treaty with Lisile was necessary. Tucked away in his little desert holding in the center of Sehmadonis, Farudi didn’t see the process of how goods from the Pirate Islands reached him, he only knew that they did and like every good idiot, he never bothered to question it. And he didn’t seem to care that, until the last fifty years or so, the only Mainland ships that dared the waters of the Pirate Islands were those of war.

More recently, as the stronger Pirate Nations like Lisile, Chalia and Shemarl became sturdier and settled, privateering merchants had begun to establish a shaky trade with the pirates. That, according to the Ambassador, was the same thing as Sehmadonis trading directly with Lisile. But such ventures were dangerous. Piracy, while not nearly as prevalent now, was still legal in the Islands, provided the targets were not vessels or ports of other Pirate Nations. The merchants and their captains had worked out a system of displaying colors of a Pirate Nation with a symbol announcing their peaceful intention, but even that did not guarantee safety. But with success three voyages out of four now, enough goods from the Pirate Islands made their way into Mainland markets to allow the ignorance of people like Farudi to spread.

And that fool was supposed to present the King’s latest proposal to a Pirate Nation?

With a sigh, Andrigo scanned the horizon and frowned. Peering through the spyglass, he saw a single-masted ship that looked like it had been torn apart by the same storm that had rocked the sailors of the Agranor’s King to sleep for a rare break. Andrigo called for his captain.

Captain Donva was a big man, towering over his small, wiry first mate, but it wasn’t his stature that had always given Andrigo the sense of security. Donva was one of the fairest men in the Sehmadonian navy and the only one willing to take on the unwanted bastard of a Lord of the King’s court and a free-born Lisilean slave. There was a fondness in Donva’s dark eyes as he came to stand beside the first mate.

“Sir, there’s a small boat off the port bow. They’ve hailed us. Looks like they may have been caught in that storm.”

“Colors?”

“None, sir.”

“Does that boat at least have a name?”

The first mate again put the spyglass to his eye. In the failing light, he could barely make out the wobbly letters on the stern and squinted. “Looks like… the Fool’s Errand.” He laughed. “Seems like a fitting name, what with their current condition.”

The captain took the glass and peered through it. “Fools, indeed. Who in their right mind would keep such a small vessel out in a storm?”

“You don’t think they might be pirates?”

“If they are, they’ll be dead pirates. Board them, Captain Donva.”

The first mate swallowed a groan as the Ambassador joined them at the rail. Turning his gaze to the captain, he asked, “Can we spare the time, sir?”

The captain opened his mouth to speak, but the Ambassador interrupted.

“That pirate brigand who calls himself an emperor can wait.”

“Emperor Marril is hardly a pirate, sir,” the first mate remarked. “I’ve never heard a whisper about him setting so much as a toe on board a pirate ship.”

“He’s a so-called king of pirates, so he is one by default. Will you send Margi?”

The captain offered the Ambassador a scathing glance. “No, Andrigo will go. In case they aren’t pirates, I don’t want them scared out of their wits by that oaf of yours.”

“As you wish, sir,” the first mate replied before the Ambassador could retort.

Andrigo spared his pepper-haired captain a last look before he headed down to the main deck. He didn’t see why they should waste time with such an insignificant vessel. They were due in Lisandra to meet with the Lisilean Emperor in two days and after that freak storm and unfavorable winds, they were already a day behind. If the Fool’s Errand was fool enough to try and ride out a squall, they weren’t worth the time of the Agranor’s King or either of the two ships with her.

He shouted orders for men to accompany him, a small crew of half a dozen. The Fool’s Errand had pulled alongside the massive Agranor’s King and several wearied men stood on the deck, waving exuberantly. Not one of them was dressed to be out to sea. Their clothes were fine, yes, but damned ill-suited for sailing. Upon closer inspection of the boat, Andrigo saw that the mast and the sails had been damaged beyond salvaging by the storm’s strong winds. He followed his crew down the ladder, slipping on the last rung and landing inelegantly on his rump. He started to push himself up when one of the boat’s crew grabbed his hand and hauled him to his feet so fast he nearly fell forward. Backing quickly away, he gasped.

“Bless you, kind sir!” the man said. “Finally, a friendly ship!”

There was something strange about the man’s accent, but his Sehmadonian was perfect. “Where do you hale from, sailor?”

“Lord Jacaro’s Province. Far Island, sir. I own a small pineapple plantation and dabble in fishing, as a hobby of course. We were out on the Rimsea and were blown a bit off course. Well, more than a bit, I believe, but we’re too lost to know how far.”

Andrigo regarded the man with narrowed eyes. Beneath the flashy clothing – which reminded him of a show bird, a style common to Lord Jacaro’s province – was a tall, strong body with the unconscious grace and vigor of youth. The man’s hair was dark and he looked as if he might be a half-breed, with elegant facial features slightly blurred by a thin, neatly-trimmed beard and mustache. If he was a half-breed, he couldn’t be Sehmadonian. His eyes, however, were dark brown and Andrigo had never heard of a half-breed with anything but the Elasan silver eyes, which could shift only to blues and greens and the shades in between. He relaxed and offered the unfortunate man a smile.

“We tried to find shelter when we saw the storm brewing,” the man continued. “But pirates chased us out… and then the storm was on us.”

“Pirates, you say?”
“Yes, a small ship, in a cove southwest of here. Or, at least, I believe it was southwest. Our compass was smashed.”

“Are you this boat’s captain, sir?”

“I am.”

A bit young to be captain, the first mate thought, since it appeared he was the youngest present. Then again, his youth might explain his inexperience with the weather on the seas. A more experienced man would have at least dropped canvas and by the looks of the Fool’s Errand, they’d tried to sail through. Dabble in fishing indeed.

“Can I offer you and your crew a hot meal?”

“A hot meal would be most welcome. There are eight in my crew, sir. I hope we will not inconvenience you.”

“Hardly. We are well stocked.”

“I hate to even ask, but might we beg a tow to the nearest port of size so that we may find supplies for repairs?”

“You’re in pirate waters, now, sir. I doubt you’ll find anyone willing to sell supplies to you.”

“Surely not everyone is so callous as to refuse us the means to get home.”

“As I said, sir, these are the Pirate Islands. They would sooner shoot you and loot your boat than help you. I will speak to my captain. Perhaps he will have a solution for you. If you will follow me, then, Captain….”

“Segani, sir.”

“Very good, then, Captain Segani. Come with us, after you have removed any weapons.”

“We have none on our persons, sir.”

“Excellent. The captain will want to speak with you about those pirates, sir, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. It’s the least we can do in return for your hospitality.”

The captain exchanged a glance with his men and offered them a brief nod. The others visibly relaxed. The first mate frowned, wondering why they had maintained their quietude and distrust for so long. After a moment, he shrugged. He’d be nervous, too, after a run-in with pirates. He led the way up the ladder and turned to the captain of the Fool’s Errand when he and his crew were safely aboard the Agranor’s King.

“There is no need to fear an attack. We are accompanied by two gunships.”

“Two, you say? Both of those ships with you are gunships?” Captain Segani asked, awed. His face split in a smile. “Surely no pirates would dare attack an entourage so well protected.”

“It would be a fool’s errand to….” The first mate frowned at the captain. “Odd name for a boat, the Fool’s Errand.”

“A good friend of mine named it, sir. He thought I was a fool to buy it. We thought it was a good joke.”

The first mate hesitated, the motioned for his crew and the crew of the Fool’s Errand to follow him. At the doors of the mess, he told Captain Segani’s crew that they may go in ahead of their captain. The seven men hesitated and glanced at their captain.

“Go,” he told them with a slight nod. “I’ll be along shortly.”

They nodded in response and followed the men from the Agranor’s King.

“Your crewmen don’t say much, do they?”

“They thought I was mad to hail your ship, after our run in with those pirates. They thought it might be some trick, you see. Pirates masquerading as Sehmadonians. But why would pirates in a galleon waste their time on a boat as small as the Fool’s Errand? I don’t think they’re sure yet that this is no trick. We lost a man in that storm and it seems that they’ve taken his death as an ill omen. I say it served the little snake right for turning my crew into a lot of superstitious fools.” Captain Segani laughed. “Fools indeed. You know, sir, I believe my friend named my ship rightly.”

“So it would seem. Here we are now.”

Andrigo rapped on the door of the captain’s cabin. “Sir, I have Captain Segani of the Fool’s Errand. He has word on a pirate ship taken shelter in a cove near us.”

“Bring him in then,” came the captain’s surly voice.

Andrigo entered with Captain Segani on his heals. The Ambassador to Lisile sat at the table with the captain, enjoying a lavish meal. Andrigo looked down his nose at the corpulent, sumptuously dressed man. If the beady-eyed Ambassador died right then and there of a heart seizure, Andrigo would be hard-pressed not to dance about the cabin.

“Welcome aboard the Agranor’s King, Captain Segani. I am Captain Donva Regil. My first mate says you have seen pirates near us.”

“Aye, sir, there be two ships waitin’ fer ye. The Tigereye and the Silver Dawn.”

Andrigo swiveled on his heals and found himself staring down the barrel of his own gun. He hadn’t felt the man take it, but it wasn’t the expert pickpocket trick that sent cold dread flooding through him. Brown eyes had shifted to silver and now took on the gleeful hue of shallow island waters.

“A half-breed…” he whispered. He wanted to hear yells and gunshots from the mess or the anchor-watch to confirm what was happening and that the men were doing something – anything – to stop it. But only silence echoed in his ears. He struggled to find his voice and finally spat, “You’re a damned pirate!”

“Shon Se’ganui at your service,” the half-breed said with a bow. “And just so you know, your hats are ridiculous.”

No one seemed able to speak as Se’ganui whipped off the hat.

“Se’ganui!” the Ambassador bellowed at the first mate, finally recovering from his shock. “You brought the most infamous pirate of Lisile aboard my ship!”

A hulk of a man appeared in the door, grinning. “The crew is contained,” he informed Se’ganui. “Shall we signal the guns?”

“In a moment, Captain Dego.” While the Captain of the notorious Tigereye watched Andrigo, Donva and the Ambassador, Se’ganui nonchalantly pulled a dark teal scarf from inside his vest and tied it around his head. “We’ll get the crew of the Agranor’s King onto the Fool’s Errand first.”

“Aye, no point in any unnecessary deaths. Even if they deserve it.”

Sixteen men – not eight – marshaled the thirty who crewed the Agranor’s King down to the little sailboat, checked them all for weapons and pushed the little craft away from the galleon. After a thorough check of the small boat revealed that it was empty of any weapons, the Ambassador cursed uselessly about thieving bastards. Captain Donva remained disturbingly silent.

“Ro’dama!” Captain Dego yelled. “Hoist ‘em!”

Andrigo stared at the ship he’d so recently left and saw a man running aft. Horror lanced through him as two flags were raised, one bearing a silver sun rising from sapphire waves and the other revealing a silver tiger with golden eyes. In moments, cannon fire boomed as two ships cruised into view. They blasted at the gunships with forward-facing cannons, destroying the Sehmadonian ships as easily a child’s toys. A thing that had been inconceivable an hour ago had just been done. The Agranor’s King was in the hands of pirates and all her treasure would be gone before the sun set. Amidst the chaos, Andrigo found the ability to be amazed at the daring and ingenuity of the pirates. No Mainland ship – from any nation – was outfitted with forward-facing guns.

“I’ve never heard of anything like it,” the Ambassador muttered as the Agranor’s King pulled away with the two pirate ships following.

“Well, now you’ve seen it first hand,” Captain Donva muttered.

Lisandra, Lisile

Shon propped his booted feet on the scarred table and gazed down at the bay. The view from the porch of the Marooner’s Retreat was superb and allowed him to watch as the cumbersome Agranor’s King was moved across Lisandra Bay to the royal docks on the other side. A smirk lifted one corner of his mouth. Wouldn’t it just add insult to injury when the Sehmadonians arrived in the aptly named Fool’s Errand to find their flagship peacefully moored at their intended destination?

“Aye, he’s gone and done it again,” he heard Captain Dego say to someone.

“But that’s the Agranor’s King! Lisile will be lucky if the Sehmadonians don’t declare war on us for killing their ambassador!”

“That pig is still quite alive, mate,” Dego replied with a snort. “Do you think we’re daft? The ambassador and the survivors of his entourage should be arriving here in Lisandra within the next day or so. Shon! You out here, lad?”

Shon watched over his shoulder as his friend pushed through the doors out onto the porch, leaving a distraught young man to catch the door. Ganidego Ni’rada was a burly man in the middle of his fifth decade and, remarkably, had come through his long career in piracy with few scars and all of his limbs in tact. Gray had accumulated in his shoulder-length hair and bushy beard, but the majority of it was still black as the seas at night. Dego was, without a doubt, the reason why Shon had come through his many dangerous––and often hotheaded––adventures with no lasting marks.

“It’s a pity the bastards won’t know why they were attacked and set adrift,” Shon remarked.

“Aye, it’s a shame,” Dego replied as he took a seat beside Shon at the table. “You know, Shon, it amuses me that that boy is so concerned about a war with Sehmadonis. If he knew who you really were, I think he’d faint from worry over your precious carcass.”

Shon shrugged and let his attention wander to his surroundings. The Marooner’s Retreat was a secluded hangout that catered strictly to pirates, offering private docks and ferrying service to and from anchorage, more ale, rum and whiskey than any twenty crews could consume, companionship for hire, delectable food, rooms and, best of all in Shon’s opinion, a bath house that tapped directly into Lisandra’s famed hotsprings. The main section was the dining hall and tavern. It was two stories, with half of the second floor being a wide, L-shaped porch set with several tables that made a perfect place to rest and find pleasure in the simplicity of an island dusk. To the west, closer to the rest of Lisandra, was an inn that boasted five hundred rooms to rent for an hour or a year. The bathhouse sat to the east of the tavern, offering privacy along with relaxation. With all the amenities to be enjoyed, Shon thought its popularity was well-earned. It was certainly why he kept a room here and not elsewhere.

Enjoying the evening was exactly what Shon planned on doing, at least until the rest of the crew of the Tigereye and Silver Dawn arrived and word spread of their arrival in port with the hijacked Agranor’s King. He took a sip of his ale and pondered Dego’s comments a while longer.

“I’m sure I’ll be caught sooner or later,” he replied at last. “I’m honestly surprised no one has made the connection. The name I chose isn’t exactly subtle.”

Dego laughed. “No, it’s not. I’m sure anyone who wanted to could figure it out, but they just don’t want to dig deep enough and endanger your freedom. Can you blame them? Shon Se’ganui brings a lot of wealth to a lot of people, especially in Lisandra. So long as your father doesn’t find out.”

“He didn’t stop me eighteen years ago and he’s not going to stop me now.”

Dego waved an arm around to take in the whole of the Marooner’s Retreat. “I’d say ol’ Cap’n Durando has been just fine since your father requested he retire to stop you from becoming a pirate yourself. I’d even say he enjoys his business as much as pirating.”

“It’s a safer way to make a fortune,” Shon agreed. “If you’re one for that sort of thing.”

Dego’s eyes glittered with mischief. “Your greater grandsires would be proud of you, even if Marril isn’t.”

Whatever else Dego might have said was interrupted by the arrival of the captain of the Silver Dawn. Lorren Si’laverra was nearly as opposite from Dego as it was possible to be. Where Dego was stout and dark, Lorren was rail-thin, nearly as tall as Shon, and fair-haired. He was also missing two fingers on his left hand and his face bore a deep scar with an unknown origin.

“Mates!” Lorren called jubilantly. “What a week! My crew and I won’t need to sail for a year! We will, o’ course.”

“O’ course,” Dego replied. “Can’t keep a pirate land-bound for long, eh, Cap’n? Though, maybe we ought to keep ol’ Shon here dockside for a while. Some o’ the boys’re a bit spooked, think his idea to capture the ambassador’s ship might start a war.”

“To the hells with that,” Lorren replied, plopping his narrow backside in a chair across from them. He took a long swig of rum and studied the bottle for a moment before continuing. “Let ‘em, right? Just give the Pirate Nations a chance to band together against them again. Didn’t turn out so well the last time. ‘Sides. Wars can be profitable. And what’re them fool deckhands complainin’ ‘bout? Ain’t many that haven’t benefited from Shon’s generosity at one time or another. Speakin’ o’ which, tell me somethin’, Shon. Why is it that ol’ Cap’n Durando always gives ye a free ale?”

“He took Shon here on his first ever pillaging,” Dego replied. “Right b’fore he retired the Marooner and traded it for the Marooner’s Retreat. I think he sees it as passin’ the torch, if ye will.”

“Aye, that may be, but Durando wasn’ as mad or as lucky as Shon.” Lorren laughed. “Not that I’m complain’, lad.”

The conversation waned after that and Shon was content to watch the sky color with a soft sunset. Waves lapped gently below the Marooner’s rest and slapped against the five ships at the docks, bringing a calm to Shon’s mind he hadn’t felt in well over a month, since he’d read the ambassador’s letter and first devised his revenge. He’d made arrangements to be in Port Lisile, where Dego and the Tigereye would meet him and planned the trap for the Agranor’s King without any thought to what he would do with his share of the loot. He hadn’t even spared himself enough time in his planning to come up with an back up plan and, looking back, he decided that the endeavor was either a win or lose situation and not even the most clever of fall-backs could have saved him had they failed.

“Well, gents, this ol’ bag ‘o bones is headin’ down to the real celebration,” Lorren said. He clapped Shon and Dego on the back as he passed.

“I guess that means it’s time to head over to the bathhouse,” Shon said. He was loath to rise.

“Aye, you should probably steal Mistress Ralla away to scrub away a certain tattoo before someone else claims her for her other talents.”

Shon groaned. “I should, even though the Sehmadonians never saw it.”

“Perhaps not, but they saw your face and most everyone who knows anything about Shon Se’ganui knows he has a tattoo on his back. Including the Sehmadonians.”

“I get your meaning,” Shon grumbled. “Pity I can’t make it permanent. I am rather fond of it. Think the others are drunk enough by now that I might pass through them without too much trouble?”

“I doubt it. I’ll come with you.”

They made their way inside and down the stairs. The large, open room of the tavern was packed with men and women, some belonging to the ships moored in the bay, others who had come just for the drink and unusual air of festivity. Though a fair bit taller than Dego, Shon’s narrower frame was far less effective for plowing through the rowdy mob, so he trailed behind the captain and did his best to politely excuse himself from dozens of entreaties to converse.

“Oh, c’mon, Dego! Shon! We want to hear it from you! You were aboard the Agranor’s King! You stole command of ‘er and di’n’t fire a shot!”

Dego halted so quickly that Shon nearly stumbled into him. The stocky captain swiveled on his heels glanced at the faces now pressing around them.

“Now, where, by the name of Li’sandra, did ye hear that?” Dego demanded. “Didn’t fire a shot? The gods’ll be humored tonight, gents! The tale’s already taller than a merchant’s masts and we haven’t been in port half a day yet!”

Shon found himself grinning.

“A’right, then, gents, if ye really must hear the tale….”

“Aye!”

“ ‘Twas a Fool’s Errand,” Dego began to scattered chuckles. “Painted in shaky Sehmadonian letters on the stern of a rickety sail boat. A foolish errand of ours, ye say? Nay, ‘twas a foolish errand of the Sehmadonians, they who dare sail our seas with the thought that two little man-o-wars was protection enough.”

“Two man-o-wars? I heard tell it was three!”

“A dozen!”

Laughter thickened, then died away as Dego shook his head. Shon pulled up a stool and sat down to enjoy Dego’s retelling. The man had a flare for storytelling that required no embellishment.

“Nay, just two. But we weren’t lookin’ to come upon ‘em with guns blazin’. In Port Lisile, we readied our ships, my Tigereye, Cap’n Lorren’s Silver Dawn… and Shan Segani’s newly-acquired Fool’s Errand. There was a storm. And I’ll not lead ye astray here and say it was coincidence. Our half-blooded mate wiggled ‘is fingers and asked Jahoran for a little wind, then a little rain, and a little more wind. And damned I am if that god didn’t do just as Shon asked. With sails and mast in tatters and our gunships ready, we had only to wait.”

The room was dead silent as everyone present hung on Dego’s every word. Even Shon found himself listening intently.

“And there she came, the laden Agranor’s King. We hailed her and Shon used that sweet-spoken tongue of his to convince her first mate that we were stranded Sehmadonians, foolish enough to keep so small a craft out in a storm.”

“But, Cap’n, why would they believe Se’ganui was Sehmadonian? His eyes are gray! I ain’t met a Sehmadonian who don’t think every gray-eyed man is a half-blood.”

“I’m right curious about that meself, gents,” Dego said, turning to Shon. “Because that evening, his eyes were brown as mine.”

“My father had brown eyes,” Shon replied, careful to keep his father in past tense. Everyone believed Shon Se’ganui’s father had died at sea years ago and he wasn’t about to let a slip of the tongue destroy his fragile protection.

“Wish you’d’a told me that b’fore,” Dego said. “Imagine, trying to concentrate on keeping yer eyes brown whilst your tongue wagged pretty words to soothe and fool the Sehmadonians. But, back to me tale. The first mate took us aboard to feed us and hear tell of a pirate ship lyin’ in wait. I swear, by the gods, ‘tis the truth! Why lie when the truth will serve ye better, aye?”

“Aye!”

“They didn’t know it yet, but it was done as a burnt supper. We secured the crew while Shon single-handedly rendered the captain, the first mate and the ambassador captured.”

“How’d he do it?”

“He stole the fool of a first mate’s own gun and turned it on ‘im! If ever I had a moment’s doubt, I’m now certain the Sehmadonians are as daft as – well, I don’t want to be insultin’ any animals, because we all know even a toad has more brains than a Sehmadonian. So, we loaded their crew and the ambassador onto the Fool’s Errand, raised the colors and sat back to watch as their terrifying man-o-wars turned into driftwood. And then we sailed home to Lisandra. That be all there is to tell. I think it right, now, to call a toast. Durando, ol’ boy! Fill my friend’s glass, will ye?”

As soon as Shon’s glass had been refilled, Dego lifted his own. “To the man himself, with sugar-sweet tongue and such handsome Elasan eyes….”

Shon narrowed said eyes and hooked the heel of his boot on the upper rung of his stool. Chortles met both Dego’s toast and Shon’s expression.

“To Shon Se’ganui!”

“Hear hear!”

“A’right, then, gents, you’ve had your tale,” Dego told the crowd. “Leave Shon alone long enough for a scrub and a shave.”

“And a good long soak,” Shon added. To Dego, he whispered, “Thanks, mate.”

Shon followed Dego out to the bathhouse. The entry was bright, but the rooms within were scantily lit and steamy. He relished the relative anonymity in which he could safely shed the guise of Shon Se’ganui. Mistress Ralla greeted them at the door and escorted them to the large pool. Three men and four women regarded them with welcoming smiles. Frowning, Shon turned to the tiny woman.

“I’m afraid the private pools are all in use,” she explained. She dropped their towels beside the pool.

“Nothng for it,” Shon replied with a sigh. “See you again in a while?”

“Aye, love.”

After stripping out of his clothes, Shon lowered himself into the luxuriant hot water and braced his arms on the pool’s edge. Dego settled his and Shon’s cutlasses within easy reach before entering the water. He had no sooner relaxed than the women across the pool screamed. A fully dressed man slunk from one of the private pools and gave a flick of his wrist. A tiny blade streaked across the room in a trail of silver light.

Shon dove out of the knife’s path and snatched his sword and his towel as he lunged out of the pool at the assailant. The man tore out of the bathhouse too fast for Shon to follow. Mistress Ralla ordered three of her assistants to search for the man, but it seemed he’d disappeared. Clutching the hastily-wrapped towel around his waist, Shon stared uselessly into the falling night. He’d never been the target of an assassin as Shon Se’ganui. Cursing, he flung the towel away and slid back into the pool. Only then did he notice that he hadn’t been the target at all. The others who had been in the pool were gathered around one of their companions.

“It wasn’t you he was after,” Dego whispered as the dead man was taken away. His companions followed, leaving Dego and Shon alone in the pool.

“Who was he?” Shon asked.

“I don’t know. Some no-name pirate. Probably owed the wrong man money.”

“Mistress Ralla!” Shon called.

The woman appeared at once. “Aye, Master Se’ganui?”

“I think I’m ready for that shave and scrub now.”

“Are ye, now? And what other service are ye… ready… for?” She rested a hand on his shoulder and leaned close. There was an urgency in the fingers that pressed into his skin that was in no way playful. Her other hand slid down his chest to cover his heart, which quickened with her meaning.

“Best keep that beard and compass for a while longer. There be unfriendly eyes here, Shonagan,” she whispered. She bit gently at his ear as first her fingers and then her gaze gestured to a shadowed corner of the room.

Following her gaze, he spied an all too familiar man crouching in the corner, watching him intently with dark brown eyes. By the looks of his attire, he’d gone to a lot of trouble to blend in, but the cloth was too crisp, the sash around his waist was without a single tear or snag and the scuffs on his new boots screamed of intentional defiling. Aside from the too-clean clothing, the man’s frame, though in decent shape, was softened by a life of luxury, not hardened by one spent on the sea. Shon concentrated on Mistress Ralla’s neck to give himself time to think. Then, he laughed softly against her perfumed skin and turned his face and eyes to meet his cousin’s gaze straight on.