Chapter One

"What about the Black Swan? They make a fairly good spread this time of year. I particularly like their stew."

When there was no answer, Eva glanced at the man beside her. He lay on his back, staring at the roof of the cabin in bland disinterest.

"James?" She nudged him gently.

Finally, after another few moments, he sighed. "I really don't like their ale."

"It's morning," Eva laughed. "It's too early to drink."

"We're pirates, dearest. It's never too early to drink." James shifted in his place on the bunk, pulling the blankets further over himself and scooping Eva into his arms at the same time. He snuggled against her and buried his face in her loose dark hair. "What about that old pub just past that chapel?"

"St. Andric's, you mean?" Eva inquired.

"Aye. With those gigantic stained-glass windows."

Eva considered it for a moment before replying, "To be perfectly honest, I really don't care. Anything is better than the hard tack we've been gnawing on lately."

James chuckled and agreed, "Aye, it is good to be in port again."

"How long has it been anyway since we were last in Port Cullis?"

He frowned thoughtfully. "A year perhaps? You know we don't anchor here often."

Eva snorted, knowing full well why they did not frequent the docks of Port Cullis, though it was the largest, busiest, port upon the Mother Continent. Though he had friends in the Admiralty, namely the High Admiral himself, James was not in good standing at that particular time. In fact, it had been almost a year exactly since he was stripped of his rank as Admiral and ordered to stay far away, out of the public eye. Most people simply thought he was dead, unaware of his honorless discharge from the navy. Nobody would have recognized his scarred countenance as that of the handsome, brave Admiral Shelley anyway. Now he lingered in the shadow of anonymity, which Eva noticed he seemed to prefer.

"You're thinking again," James murmured, squeezing Eva around the waist and interrupting her thoughts.

"Oh dear," she laughed. "I was. Don't worry--it shan't happen again." Smiling, she turned her head to face him and insisted, "Now be serious. We need to decide where to eat. I'm famished."

"May the great Ocean herself have mercy on the poor soul who denies you food," he retorted with a feigned grimace. Eva let out an insulted laugh, but did not say anything, waiting for his answer. Giving it a moment's consideration, he finally replied, "I think the Winged Dragon is the pub for us today. Their ale has that distinctly nutty flavor that I find particularly enticing."

"I'm quite certain that you'll be drunk as a new sailor by noon," Eva sighed, but the glint in her eyes betrayed her, and she added, "Alright. I need a drink or two myself."

Satisfied with the resolution, Eva and James finally pried themselves out of bed and readied themselves for the day. It was strange, Eva thought, to be leaving the ship after almost a month at sea, with little to eat save what they caught during brief stops in small ports along the coast, and hard biscuits when that ran out. She couldn't wait for a hot meal and a seat that did not constantly shift upon the water.

As she pulled on one of her rarely-worn petticoats--which she only ever wore on land, favoring breeches and a loose shirt most often--Eva inquired offhandedly, "Will you be stopping at Beezle's today?"

James' voice floated from somewhere near his wardrobe, muffled by the shirt he was trying to pull over his head. "I was considering stopping by while the others are all out. We can leave Lachlan in charge of the ship while we're gone."

Eva smiled. Usually minding the ship was the worst punishment a sailor could have while in port, but Lachlan, the quartermaster, ship's doctor, and second mate aboard the ship, did not really mind. He was probably tucked away somewhere in the hold, reading a book some other sailor had brought aboard for him.

"You show Beezle a sample of those emeralds we took from that clipper and I assure you he'll be grateful we stopped by." Eva could already imagine the man's black eyes glinting at the sight. Mr. Beezle happened to be James' lawyer, whom he trusted with the care of his questionably earned profits for the sole reason that Mr. Beezle would never ask where or how they came upon such money. He also had impeccable investing sense, especially since James showed equal lack of curiosity by not asking where exactly his money was being invested. After merely a year, James and Eva both had a small fortune dispersed between the banks and bonds.

"Aye, and he'll try something, I'm certain, to increase his share," James retorted, though his tone was relatively good-natured. "Perhaps I shall let him get by with it this time."

"My, you're in a generous mood," Eva noted, approaching him and buttoning his waistcoat for him.

"That's the sort of man I am, my dear," James answered with a broad flash of teeth.

Eva smiled in return and stood on her tiptoes to place a kiss upon his scarred cheek as he placed a fairly plain hat atop his head. He preferred his blue captain's hat with its gold filigree and voluminous red feather, but Port Cullis was not the place for him to draw attention to himself. Even in such unassuming clothing, far different than his usual uniform, Eva thought he cut a rather dashing figure, especially once she pinned his right sleeve neatly to the breast of his coat. She had noticed other captains do the same when they were unfortunate enough to have lost a hand or an arm. It disguised James' missing right hand, just enough that passersby would not stare too much.

"Perfect," she muttered, patting his breast pocket and kissing him briefly. "Are we ready to be off then?"

"Perhaps not," James murmured, drawing Eva toward him and appraising her. "I'd like to appreciate my wife a little more, before it is too late in the day, if she doesn't mind."

"She doesn't," Eva assured him, not troubled in the slightest. Needless to say, it was much later in the morning before they finally emerged--nearly noon by the look of the sun.

There was one thing that Eva loved and missed about her homeland whenever she was away from it, and it was the sun. In all her travels, she had seen many strange places, some where the sun actually vanished beneath the horizon for the entire night, and she had come to appreciate the constant nature of the sun upon the Mother Continent. It never directly crossed the sky, instead hovering just above the horizon and only vanishing for a mere hour or two when it dipped behind the distant mountain peaks. The red sun and purple twilight sky were something Eva never grew tired of.

The docks were busy as she and James came ashore, sailors in their pressed blue jackets and white trousers dashing madly to and fro. They bustled about upon the dock, the decks, and high up in the ratlines of their ships. Soldiers, glaringly out of place, marched along the boardwalk in their red uniforms, their eyes fixed forward as they determinedly made their way through the crowds, not caring who they trampled in the process. The harbor was so crowded with military ships and persons that there were very few civilians around, and those that were stayed well out of the way.

"Filthy lubbers," James growled under his breath, his piercing eyes scanning the scene. "If war has really broken out with the Northlands again, then what are these lazy lobsters doing here? They should be on the battlefield, where they can be useful."

Eva grimaced, knowing full well what James' opinion of the redcoats--"lobsters" as most sailors derisively nicknamed them--was. She didn't particularly like them either, having met more proud, pompous braggarts among them than she would have preferred. "Are they ever useful?" she retorted.

"Aye. They make wonderful cannon fodder."

She graced James' jest with a wan smile as they weaved through the crowd.

The streets of the port city were not any better than the docks. Indeed, they seemed even more congested, filled with red-clad soldiers, their bayonets gleaming atop long-barreled muskets. Once again, civilians were expected to make way, and in an attempt to avoid one marching line of soldiers, Eva was squashed up against the brick wall of a nearby storefront, scraping her elbow painfully. All around her, she heard people grumbling about the "blasted war," some of them whispering something about the loss of the Northern Coast, and how it must be the reason for the increased troops within the city. James looked very irritated himself.

"I didn't realize that we'd actually lost the Northern Coast," Eva muttered, squeezing between another wall and a group of nervous-looking men who watched the marching soldiers pass by.

"We do not receive much news at sea," James admitted, also remarking in an annoyed tone, "I had forgotten how truly obnoxious these lobsters could be. I now remember the reason I joined the navy instead."

A weak smile crossed Eva's face. She remembered all too well the last soldier that James had personally met. Both men had come out of their encounters with permanent scars, including missing hands.

"Look there, I see it." James pointed out the pub and distracted Eva from her thoughts. "Let us cross here before another battalion tries to crush us." He made a wry face and added, "It's almost as if they're at war with us instead of the Northlanders." Shaking his head, he took Eva by the hand and hastily crossed the busy road, dodging horses and carts and other civilians in the process, as well as a few straggling redcoats. Finally, they ducked into the relatively peaceful darkness of the tavern, pausing just inside to catch their breath.

"It's been so long. I nearly had forgotten the adventure to be had in merely crossing a road," James muttered breathlessly to Eva.

"Yes, and now comes the task of finding a seat," Eva replied, scanning the dim interior with worried eyes.

The room was indeed very crowded, and they had to step on many toes as they made their way to a small, empty table in a dark corner. Eva noticed with chagrin that most of the patrons were wearing red uniforms. Soldiers.

"Is this still your favorite pub, James?" she inquired with a snort.

James made a face in return and murmured, "What I still don't understand is why they are here when they could be making themselves perfectly useful as target practice for the Northlanders."

He had hardly finished his sentence before a small scuffle broke out between two of the soldiers nearby. Looking disdainfully at the scene, Eva quipped, "Don't you see? They obviously can't fight Northlanders because they're too busy fighting themselves. Idjits."

James would have laughed at Eva's frustrated observation, but she had apparently spoken just a little too loudly, and now many unfriendly eyes had turned their way.

"Lazy arses, can't fight so they jus' poke fun at everyone else."

"Too bad that one's a woman, else I'd whip 'em both."

"Which one's the lady? I can't tell the difference, George."

Laughing accompanied quite a few of the derogatory jibes, and the soldiers seemed content just to trade insults with each other when another voice spoke up. "Look at the auld codger--tough lookin', but there's a real Nancy 'neath those scars." The man didn't even bother to disguise his voice, nor did his gaze waver as he glared at James.

James merely glowered back with all the frostiness he could muster, putting on a haughty stare fit for the commanding officer he had once been. Without a word, he stood and brushed firmly past the soldiers to fetch a drink. He returned with two tankards of ale balanced in his single hand, one cup already half-empty.

"Well, least he can drink," Eva heard one man grumble grudgingly.

"Aye, but can he hold it?" the loud soldier retorted. As James approached, the man stood and bumped him, deliberately knocking one of the tankards from his hand. James held fast to the full one, but the half-empty cup clattered to the floor, spilling its contents over James' previously immaculate boots.

His steely eyes, gray now, met the fierce hazel gaze of the soldier, his face completely calm. "You owe me two drinks, sir."

The man glanced back at his friends and laughed. "I'm afraid ye miscalculated, friend," he replied with a guffaw. "Ye still have woon drink left."

James finally showed some emotion on his scarred countenance. He smiled, showing a row of teeth just before he dumped the contents of his second tankard over the other man's head. "I'm afraid you miscalculated, sir," he muttered, his voice dripping with sick, syrupy honey. He didn't need to growl or shout--the steel and blood showed in his eyes, which narrowed in extreme dislike as he forcefully pushed past the man.

"Forgive me, my dear," he murmured as he joined Eva at the table again, still watching the shocked soldier as his friends, equally surprised, tried to dab at the ale on his face and coat. "I seem to have misplaced your drink."

Eva laughed heartily. "Oh, I think you put it to much better use than I ever could have."

Grinning, James glanced about the pub, noticing with a slight pang of chagrin that he had drawn an unseemly amount of attention to himself. Even the two officers that were present, their pale white wigs like beacons in the dim room, had noticed. Previously sitting at one long table, greeting civilians as they entered, they were probably on recruiting duty, searching for any volunteers--willing or not--to join. James had immediately been overlooked the first time--a mere invalid--but now they had gotten to their feet and seemed very interested in approaching him.

He did not wish to stay and find out what they wanted. Instantaneously on his feet, he glanced at Eva, who had also gotten up, and indicated that they leave with a quick jerk of his head. The drenched soldier, reeking of ale by then, tried to stand in their way, but James merely shoved him forcefully aside with a shoulder, sending the man crashing into the table behind him.

"Don't meddle with strangers ye ken nothin' about, boy," James drawled in a fair imitation of the soldier's own accent.

About half the men in the room were standing by then, but James had experience in outmaneuvering opponents, and Eva was small enough to squeeze by in his wake. It was not a challenging task to leave, but both of them had pounding hearts by the time they exited.

"Whew," Eva breathed once they were outside, a fair distance down the busy thoroughfare. "I never thought it would be a relief to be out on the streets again!"

"Aye. These crowds might do us some good yet," James noted, casting a glance over his shoulder. The relief on his face proved that they had not been followed, but he still continued walking. "I think Mr. Beezle will certainly appreciate a visit. I can't think of a better place to avoid soldiers, and I don't think I could stand to chance a run-in with any more today." He grimaced, his face looking cadaverous and macabre in the reddish twilight.

Eva agreed with him.

Fortunately, the number and frequency of soldiers decreased as they made their way into the merchant district, and both began to feel at ease again. Unfortunately, their encounters with soldiers did not seem to be finished for the day.

"Do you hear that?" Eva inquired curiously as they rounded a corner onto the street upon which Mr. Beezle's office was located. Faintly, in the distance, came a keening kind of wail, louder than when Eva had first heard it.

"Aye," James frowned, cocking his head to the side.

Neither could identify the sound, but it seemed to be coming from an alleyway near the other end of the street, close to a larger thoroughfare that led to the banks and other financial offices. In their curiosity, both James and Eva passed Mr. Beezle's modest practice without a second thought, wondering what the strange wailing noise could possibly be.

As they approached, other sounds became apparent--the clash of metal, thudding of blunt objects, and muffled shouting. Above it all came that screeching wail, which was punctuated with intelligible words here and there.

Coming around the corner, James peered into the alley and immediately stiffened up, pushing Eva hastily back.

"Don't move," he urged her, but Eva ignored him, having already caught sight of the scene.

About ten soldiers, all dressed in their uniforms and led by an officer in gleaming attire, surrounded two civilian men. A woman, bawling and clawing at the soldiers with her hands, proved to be the source of the wailing. Both Eva and James immediately knew what was happening--it occurred often enough in the navy as well. The men were being press-ganged.

"Come along quietly--it'll end better on your part--" the officer was saying, but he could hardly be heard over the woman, and the men weren't listening anyway.

As Eva watched, one of the civilians was knocked unconscious by a stray blow from the butt of a musket, and the soldiers rounded on the last man left. The officer was too busy fending off the woman, who was grabbing at his uniform and weeping loudly in his ear, to give his men further orders to merely take the man captive. They looked ready to hurt him, seeing that he had already dealt out more than his fair share of injuries.

"Alright, get away from that man! He obviously doesn't want to join you lot, and I can see why, you arrogant ninnies!" Eva leapt into the alleyway before James could stop her, coming into full view and brandishing the small dirk she always kept upon her person. "There's far too many of you lot already."

The soldiers, presented with the option of roughing up a civilian or advancing upon Eva, decided upon the latter choice, laughing at the small, brave figure she made.

"What are you going to do with that little thing, lass?"

"Why don't you put that away and play nice with us before you get hurt?"

"We'll be real gentle with you."

Eva slashed at one soldier who got too close, and looked ready to stab another when James made his appearance.

"Sorry, lads, but the lady won't be playing anything with you today. I'm afraid I'm the only entertainment available this afternoon." He stood ready at Eva's side and grinned winningly, pulling his saber from its permanent place at his hip, while Eva grabbed his pistol from its perch upon his other hip.

"What now?" one of the men laughed. "The cripple's going to fight us?" They all chortled amusedly, especially when Eva cocked the pistol and aimed it at the smart-mouthed man.

The woman, who had finally stopped wailing, stood sniveling beside the conscious civilian, both of them trapped behind the soldiers.

"I think," the officer stated with a haughty frown, "that these citizens need to be put in their place."

Grinning, the soldiers took that as an order and advanced. James lifted his saber in response, ready to fend them off as they came. Eva, however, was the first to strike, shooting one soldier in the leg when he came too close. Chaos erupted after the first shot, every unwounded man joining the fray--even the officer. The civilian man dealt a few blows himself, though he was exhausted and easily bested without a weapon to defend himself with.

Eva and James fought as best they could, but it was soon becoming apparent that they too would be overcome by the sheer number of soldiers. Four had fallen, but there were seven left, including the officer, who by then was staring calculatingly at James. Eva had thrown away the pistol, which was useless in such close contact, depending on her shiv instead. It did not do much against the prodding bayonets and long sabers that she fought against, however, and she was slowly being forced toward the wall.

James noticed her predicament and dealt a few sharp blows with his blade, felling two more soldiers, but he was beginning to grow tired, his arm aching from lack of practice. Overwhelmed, it was only another moment before he faltered. The officer, seeing his weakness, hastily cut in and knocked James to his knees with a swift kick, swiping his sword from his hand in a single flick of his own blade.

Two of the remaining soldiers grabbed James by the arms, holding him tightly and waiting for their officer to strike. He did not.

"We have underestimated this man. He might be of use to us. Take him and the other two into custody." The man smiled and added to James, "Welcome to his majesty's army. You will now serve the king with that blade of yours."

"Rrrgh!" James growled wordlessly, struggling to break free, even as his wrists were pulled sharply behind his back and lashed together with tight cords.

"No!" Eva pried herself loose from the choke-hold one soldier had on her, barreling into the officer.

The other soldiers laughed as the officer pushed her away forcefully, knocking her into the wall. Her skull cracked sharply against the stone, and she was nearly unconscious by the time she hit the ground.

"What'll we do with that 'un, sir?" she vaguely heard one soldier ask.

"Leave her," the officer ordered, much to their disappointment. "She isn't worth the trouble."

Eva let out a growl, but she heard nothing more after that, unaware of the soldiers as they picked up their wounded comrades and finished securing their prisoners, leaving her unconscious in the street with only the weeping woman for company.