the women in port, a fact that Cholik and his priests didn’t much care for, the mercenaries they’d hired had to negotiate prices for the women’s services with Pettit.
Being avaricious was one of the reasons Raithen had taken Pettit on as first mate. Pettit’s own knowledge that his loyalty ensured not only his career but also his life kept him in place. It helped that Raithen knew Pettit never saw himself as being a captain and that his only claim to power would be serving a captain who appreciated the cruel and conniving ways he had.
“When did the priests find the door?” Raithen asked. If Cholik had known, why hadn’t the priest been there? Raithen still didn’t know why Cholik and his minions crawled through the detritus of the two cities like ants, but their obvious zeal for whatever they looked for had gotten him excited.
“Only just,” Pettit replied. “As it turned out, cap’n, I was in them tunnels when Valdir fetched up with the news of their findin’.”
Raithen’s nimble mind leapt. He turned his eyes back to the crude drawing. “Where is that bastard Cholik?” They had spies on the priest as well.
“He joined the diggers.”
“Cholik’s there now?” Raithen’s interest grew more intense.
“Aye, cap’n. An’ once word of this discovery reached him, Cholik wasted no time in harin’ off down there.”
“And we don’t have any idea what’s behind this door?” Of course, Cholik didn’t know about the king’s nephew Raithen and his pirates were holding for ransom, either. Both sides had their secrets, only Raithen knew Cholik was hiding them.
“None, cap’n, but Valdir will be lettin’ us know as soon as he’s in the knowin’ of it.”
“If he can.” Any time the priests found something that they thought would be important, they got all the slaves out of the area till the recovery was complete.
“Aye, but if’n any one man can do it, cap’n, Valdir can.”
Folding the note then putting it in his pocket, Raithen nodded. “I’d rather have someone down there with the priests. Get a crew assembled. Cover it as a provisions resupply for the slaves.”
“It’s hardly time for that again.”
“Cholik won’t know. He works those slaves till they drop, then heaves them into that great, bloody abyss down there.”
“Aye, cap’n. I’ll get to it then.”
“What of our guest aboard Barracuda?”
Pettit shrugged. “Oh, he’s in fine keepin’, cap’n. Fit as a fiddle, he is. Alive, he’s worth a lot, but now, dead, cap’n?” The first mate shook his scruffy head. “Why, he’s just a step removed from fertilizer, isn’t he?”
With care, Raithen touched the wound on his neck beneath the kerchief. Pain rattled through his skull, and he winced at it. “That boy is the king’s nephew, Pettit. Westmarch’s king prides himself on his knowledge and that of his get. Priests train those children for the most part, and they concern themselves with history, things better left forgotten, I say.” Except for the occasional treasure map or account of where a ship laden with treasure went down in inhospitable seas.
“Aye, cap’n. Worthless learnin’, most of it. If’n ye’re askin’ me own opinion.”
Raithen wasn’t, but he didn’t belabor the point. “What do you think the chances are that the boy we took from that last Westmarch ship knows a considerable amount about history and things a priest might be interested in? Maybe even knows about this?” He patted the breast pocket where he’d stored the paper with the symbol.
Understanding dawned in Pettit’s rheumy eyes. He scratched his bearded chin and grinned, revealing the few straggling teeth stained by beetle-juice. “Me, cap’n? Why, I’d say there was considerable chances, I would.”
“I’m going to talk to the boy.” Raithen took up his plumed hat from the trunk at the foot of the bed and clapped it onto his head.
“Ye might have to wake him,” Pettit said. “An’ he ain’t none too sociable. Little rapscallion liked to tore ol’ Bull’s ear off when he went in to feed him this e’ening.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ol’ Bull, he up and walks into the hold where we’re a-keepin’ the boy like it was nothin’. That young’un, he come out of the rafters where’d he’d been a-hidin’ and dropped down on ol’ Bull. Walloped ol’ Bull a few good licks with a two-by-four he’d pried loose from the wall of the hold. If’n ol’ Bull’s head hadn’t been as thick as it was, why he’d have been damn near knocked to death, he would. As it was, that boy nearly got his arse offa Barracuda for certain.”
“Is the boy hurt?” Raithen asked.
Pettit waved the possibility away. “Nah. Mighta picked him up a couple of knots on his head fer his troubles, but nothin’ what’s gonna stay with him more’n a day or two.”
“I don’t want that boy hurt, Pettit.” Raithen made his voice harsh.
Pettit cringed a little and scratched at the back of his neck. “I ain’t gonna let any o’ the crew hurt him.”
“If that boy gets hurt before I’m done with him,” Raithen said, stepping over the dead woman sprawled on the floor, “I’m going to hold you responsible. And I’ll take it out of your arse.”
“I understand, cap’n. An’ trust me, ye got no worries there.”
“Get that supply crew together, but no one moves until I say.”
“It’ll be as ye say, cap’n.”
“I’m going to speak with that boy. Maybe he knows something about this symbol.”
“If I may suggest, cap’n, while ye’re there, just mind ye keep a sharp watch on yer ears. That boy’s a quick one, he is.”
* * *
Buyard Cholik stared at the huge door that fronted the wall. In all the years of knowing about Kabraxis and of knowing the fate of Ransim buried beneath Tauruk’s Port, he’d never known how he would feel once he stood before the door that hid the demon’s secret. Even months of planning and work, of coming down to the subterranean depths on occasion to check on the work and inspire fear or reprisal in the acolytes who labored under his design, had left him unprepared.
Although he had expected to feel proud and exuberant about his discovery, Cholik had forgotten about the fear that now filled him. Quavers, like the tremor of an earthquake hidden deep within a land, ran through his body. He wanted to shriek and call on Archangel Yaerius, who first brought the tenets of Zakarum to men. But he did not. Cholik knew he had long passed the line of forgiveness that would be offered by any who followed the ways of Light.
And what good would forgiveness do a dying old man? The priest taunted himself with that question as he had for the past few months and stiffened his resolve. Death was only another few years into the future for him, nothing worthwhile left during that distance.
“Master,”
