The Wrath of a Shipless Pirate (The Godlanders War) Page 10

  She touched her chin, considering. “And just what would he have to fear from some outraged sailor?”

  “A pirate captain,” Corin corrected. “And a hero of the Nimble Fingers. A well-traveled rogue who’s most resourceful.”

  “Oh, but you are more than that,” she said. “What happened to you in the dream? What power did you gain there?”

  An instinct for survival barely conquered Corin’s vanity, but it made him hesitate before he named the sword on his hip, the dwarven pistol on his belt, or the magic that propelled him over continents with no more than a thought. These were not enough on their own to make him a match for Ephitel, but they gave him a chance. And with the druids’ help, with a little careful planning, Corin finally believed he might succeed.

  But something stayed his tongue. He frowned, searching for the cause, and found it in the druid’s eager gaze. He caught her shoulders gently in his hands and pushed her back to arm’s length again.

  “If you did not remember me,” he asked, “why have you been stalking me?”

  She blinked, surprised. “I…what?”

  “You found me two times in as many days in sprawling Khera. And then, months later, you tracked me down across the sea here in Marzelle. Even after I disarmed you, even after I named you to your face, you tried to trail me when I went to face Tommy Day. And then, when I had shaken you, you searched out Charlie Claire where I had hidden him, to pump his dear, soft head for information.”

  She tried a teasing smile. “You must admit, you are a captivating subject.”

  She was trying to manipulate him—and not too subtly at that—but it was a pretty smile all the same. Corin tucked the thought away and shook his head. “Has it even been ten minutes since you said discovering my secrets was your top priority? What set you on my trail, Druid? What do you want from me?”

  She dropped her smile and ducked out of his grasp. “Charlie told me something of your new abilities. Your…travel magic. We did not yet know what it was, but every time you used it, you triggered warnings in our systems.”

  “Warnings? Of what sort?”

  “Technical. It is our job, before anything else, to keep this world intact. To keep the dream—as you have called it—running smoothly. When you twist the dream to propel yourself across the Medgerrad, everything else has to bend and twist to compensate.”

  Corin nodded, thinking of the months he’d lost when he’d used the magic before. “Time?”

  “It can be time. It can be space. It can be histories or random chance or causality itself.”

  “Can it be controlled?”

  “Of course it can. By fairies. Elves. It’s how they work, the same way you and I might breathe or keep our hearts beating. They twist reality around them, taste a dozen different samples, and choose the one most closely suited to their needs.”

  “That!” Corin shouted. “That’s what I must learn. Teach me that, and I will be your hero.”

  “Can I teach you how to breathe? It is not a human thing; it is a fairy thing.”

  “But I can travel through the dream. Just as Charlie told you and as I’m sure you had already guessed.”

  “It could have been teleportation. We did not know for sure until you skipped across the sea. It could have been great fortune. Or temporal manipulation. Or you might have been some new visitor from Fairy. The only thing the warnings told us was that a new anomaly was here. But…” She sighed and looked away. “None of the options would have been good news. Any anomaly is a threat to the world we’re sworn to protect.”

  She seemed genuinely distraught, though Corin did not entirely understand why. He offered her a smile. “Ease your heart, because you’ve found your answer. I am the anomaly. I do have this ability to travel through the dream. And you have nothing to fear, for it was Oberon himself who taught this trick to me. Gave it to me, even. If he trusted me—”

  She shook her head. “He never understood enough of what we do to judge that rightly. There are many things the fairies do, and all of them wreak chaos on causality, but they can all use their sampling to avoid the worst of consequences.”

  “How does the sampling work?”

  She gave him a theatrical shrug. “How could I possibly describe something so far from human experience? It’s nothing I have ever known.”

  “Is it…could it be like a gray fog hanging over everything? Could it be time playing forward to some point, then skipping back and doing something slightly differently?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “It could be like that. I’ve never really heard it put in words.”

  “But I’ve experienced that,” he said. “When I tried to travel through the dream across the sea. I ran into…well, into you. And into Ephitel himself. And into half a dozen people I don’t know, men and elves looming out of nothing to interrupt my path.”

  “Focus points,” she said. “The men would have been druids. When you try to shape the dream, you can come into conflict with others trying to do the same.”

  “It bounced me back. I nearly died because of it, and Charlie with me.”

  She weighed this for a moment and shrugged again. “I do not know. I’ve never known a man who could step through dream before, so perhaps what you describe is just a symptom.”

  “Ah, but I have also seen it somewhere else! When you shot me with your precious toy.”

  She gaped a moment, then looked away with a blush on her cheeks. “I never shot you! You took it away.”

  Corin grinned. “You shot me on four separate occasions. Every time, the world went gray and then started over, until at last I was smart enough to disarm you.”

  “I wondered how you knew.”

  “Sampling,” he said. “That’s what you called it.”

  She nodded, looking stunned. “That’s it. And if you have that ability…I have never heard of any but an elf who could control that power. If you have that ability, you may not truly be the danger we thought you were!” She bounced on her toes, relief and excitement in her eyes. “Show me. Show me!”

  And she slapped him. Hard.

  Her face fell. “I’m not impressed.”

  “I cannot summon it at will! That’s what I’m asking you to teach me. It just happens sometimes.”

  Her shoulders sagged too. “I’m sorry, Corin. It is not something that can be taught.”

  “But I already have the ability, clearly. I only need instruction!”

  She met his gaze with sympathy in her eyes. “There is nothing in our lore to explain how fairies work. I doubt you’d find it in theirs, either. They just do. Some things can be figured out in time—”

  “Like going miles at a step,” Corin said. “It works the way a normal dream works.”

  “Precisely so. Our glamours work the same way.”

  “Your disguise? The one I saw right through?”

  She cocked her head. “Yes. And as it happens, I have never known of anyone but Oberon who could do that.”

  “Oh?” Corin rubbed his chin. “What does that suggest to you?”

  She sighed. “It suggests to me…that perhaps the things you say are true. I cannot imagine how you could have gained these powers unless he gave them to you.”

  “You see? I am a hero. You should welcome me with open arms.”

  “Unfortunately, no. You are a wild card. Perhaps if you had come to me with Oberon’s wisdom in your head or with complete control over the sampling, then I could trust you. But as you are, you represent a severe risk to this reality.”

  Corin licked his lips. “I don’t like where this is going.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t misunderstand me. You have some charm. And I take some heart in hearing that you are opposed to Ephitel. But you seem reckless.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “That I am.”

  “And I find that most alarming. You could destroy the world, Corin. We cannot afford to let you run free.”

  “I beg your pardon, lady, but I’ll be no one’s prisoner.”
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  She came closer. “No. Please. I don’t mean it like that. But this…this gift you have been given could change the world, for good or ill. I have seen the way you gallivant. You’re reckless in everything you do, and if you use Oberon’s power with so little understanding, you will break the world.”

  Corin didn’t answer right away. She was right, but the truth was even worse than she knew. Oberon had told him once that reality itself—all of Hurope—was no more than a memory of a dream, now trapped in Corin’s head. If he died, the world died with him. That seemed a greater risk by far than using the gifts that Oberon had given him.

  And none of that was information he meant to share with the druids. They’d lock him in a cage and never let him see the light of day. He’d decided long ago that if he couldn’t act to make this world a better place, then it wasn’t worth preserving anyway.

  So he met her eyes with perfect confidence and said, “He chose me, milady, reckless as I am. Have you considered it might be because I’m fool enough to use this power that he gave it to me?”

  She bit her lip. “I…I haven’t.”

  Corin shrugged, as though it were the plain and simple truth. In fact, he knew it wasn’t. Oberon had not chosen him at all; any manling who had stumbled on the city’s tomb would have served the old king’s purpose. But Corin saw no benefit in sharing that with her.

  “I have a mission, Aemilia. I have unfinished work to do. Some of it was given to me straight from Oberon’s mouth. I will avenge the death of Oberon and of Jezeeli. I will free the nations of Hurope from Ephitel and the pretender gods. I will restore the druids to their full…custodial authority. But I will do none of this on your leash. Do you understand?”

  She touched her chin, thinking hard, but found no answer.

  Corin sighed. “I am not negotiating. I tell you as it is. Remember what you know of me. I can see through your disguises. I can step across the world with just a thought. If you try to capture me, to coerce me, to control me…I swear, I have less regard for the survival of this dream than I have for my own freedom.”

  She sighed, frustrated. “I believe you.”

  “You should. You’ve said the dreamwalking is dangerous, and I’ll avoid it if I can, but you must remember that you cannot contain me.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of trying. You’ve made yourself quite clear.”

  “Very well.”

  She came closer still and raised her hands in pleading. “But I must beg you: Do nothing rash. You are something precious, Corin. If you are half the things you claim to be, we need you. I will not try to restrain you, but I would beg you to allow me to advise you.”

  Corin considered her a moment, then rolled one shoulder in a shrug. For all he hated the idea of submitting to the druids, Aemilia would not be a bad companion. Still, he pretended reticence. “Perhaps I will allow it. If you can show some service to me.”

  “What service?”

  “Find me Ethan Blake.”

  “What?”

  He shrugged. “You have shown a knack for finding elusive figures in the crowd. You tracked me across the Medgerrad; now find me the man who once sailed under the name of Ethan Blake.”

  “I…we don’t really work that way. I found you because you kept setting off alarms. Is this Ethan Blake twisting reality everywhere he goes?”

  “Umm…probably not. He is a Vestossi. Does that help?”

  She glared at him. “This is the man Charlie told me of. This is the sailor who betrayed you, who took your ship and sank it.”

  “He is a wicked man, in league with Ephitel—”

  “You already named him a Vestossi.”

  Corin sighed. “And he has done worse than wronged me. He has enslaved an innocent woman who deserves her freedom.”

  “This is more important than the world?”

  Corin nodded. “This is my responsibility. I will serve Oberon. I will slaughter Ephitel. But first I must atone for my mistakes. I must find some way to help her.”

  “This sounds like just the sort of thing I warned against,” she started, but Corin cut her off with a raised eyebrow.

  “This sounds like you are trying to restrain me. If you want my cooperation, earn it. If you want my full attention, then help me set this other task aside.”

  She sighed and shrank away. “Very well. If those are your demands, then I will see what I can do.”

  “You are not the only one I’ve asked to gather this information. I might have word as soon as sunset from my brothers in the Nimble Fingers. And they have no desire to lock me up. So if you wish to impress me with your usefulness…”

  She nodded, impatient. “I understand. I understand.”

  “Good. Then you are free to go. I’m sure the Council waits with bated breath for your report. You may tell them what a trying scoundrel I proved to be. It will hurt my feelings none.”

  “No, but it could see you dead. There will be those on the Council unwilling to risk an agent—even an agent apparently anointed by Oberon—with such power outside our control.”

  “Oh. Aye? And you will convince them otherwise?”

  She bit her lip, thinking for a moment. “Honestly, I don’t yet know if I disagree with them.”

  “But—”

  “You’ve said your piece. I go to Council. You will…discover our decision. One way or another.”

  He reached out a hand, anxious to renew the conversation, but she brushed lightly past him and out the door. He watched her go, and even after she was lost to sight, he stood a moment, staring hard at nothing.

  Then he smiled. “A fine woman, that.” He thought a moment more. “This should be interesting.” Then he shook himself and raised his voice. “Charlie! Has my food arrived?”

  Aemilia did not return that afternoon. Nor did Big Jack Brown stop by the tavern. Corin took a stroll late in the afternoon, looking in on some of the more popular pirate haunts, but he found none of his old contacts and learned little new. In all, it was a frustrating afternoon.

  A rider did come from Brinole at dinnertime, but only to report that Francois had found none of the information he needed there and that he was riding on toward the Ithalian border. Corin gave the messenger a handsome tip and showed the innkeeper an apathetic shrug, but in his heart he raged.

  Tommy’s words kept ringing in his head. “He keeps her clean enough. And not too badly bruised.” Every hour that slipped away left Corin feeling helpless, weak. He paced his room long after he should have gone to bed, still hoping Aemilia would arrive with useful news.

  He was not much afraid of her parting threat. It had always been a risk. In fact, the woman he’d met in Jezeeli likely would have voted hard against him. He remembered how she’d clung to the strictures like a shipwrecked man might cling to a broken bit of mast to keep himself afloat. She’d been a true believer.

  But Corin doubted she still felt the same. After all, she’d seen the limits of the good king’s honest plans. There were always wicked men prepared to flout the law for private gain. Even among gods, Ephitel was not the first, and he would not be the last. Aemilia had seen it. She’d lost true friends and watched this precious dream become a nightmare. Surely she’d embrace a chance for revenge.

  Surely.

  Right?

  He twitched aside the curtain to peek out on the empty street. He eased the door to look down the hall. What other magic did the druids have? He should have asked before provoking her. Regardless, he’d only said what had to be said. He would prefer an execution to a life in chains. He nodded to himself, repeating the words in his head. “I will not wear a leash. I am no one’s slave.”

  And more of Tommy’s cruel words answered him. “How would you treat a girl you owned?”

  He growled and clenched his fists and stomped across the room. Ethan Blake. Where was he now? Who was he now? A Vestossi. That was all Corin knew, and it was not much help. The noble house had strongholds all across Hurope, from Rikkeborh to Sesille. From darkest Dehtzlan
to the Dividing Line. Their strongest presence was in Ithale—in Aepoli and in Aerome, where Ipolito sat upon the throne—but Blake might just as easily have come from Pri or Lihon or Désanton. Corin could spend a week traveling south to Aepoli only to learn he should have gone north or west or east.

  No. Far better to bide his time here. There were other affairs still to settle, other intelligence to gather, and with a little patience, he could better arm himself for whatever battles awaited him at his destination.

  He knew these things, but they did not help him sleep.

  The morning brought a visit from Big Jack Brown. Corin met him in the common room, and after his initial greeting, Jack said nothing for a long time. Corin tried some pleasantries, but in the end, he let the man have his time.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Jack said at last. “I’ve been thinking awful hard. What are you scheming, Captain?”

  “I told you yesterday,” Corin said. “No tricks, no complications. I just want to find Ethan Blake and make him dead.”

  “But there’s always a scheme. I know that about you. You’re always scheming. What’s it this time?”

  Corin spread his hands. “You aren’t wrong, but right now I don’t have enough information to scheme. And I don’t have the patience to play things smart. Right now, all I have in mind is some bloodletting.”

  “I like it,” Jack said. “Honest. Proper. And you’ve learned where the snake is hiding?”

  Corin shook his head. “That’s the one thing I’m still missing. But I have some lines out in the water.”

  “Of course you do. I never would have doubted it. Only, I was thinking about yesterday.…”

  “Aye?”

  “And you’ll recall I offered to point you after Dave Taker.”

  “Aye.”

  “Well…there you have a man who knows Blake’s secrets.”

  Corin didn’t answer right away. He considered it a moment, then shook his head. “It’s not a fast solution. How long would it take to find him in the Wildlands?”

  “Four days at sea. Then, at most, two more at the rendezvous. He checks in often, so I’m told.”