Chapter XLV: In Search of the Dread Corsair

If there were a seedier dive in Aht Urhgan than the Drowned Rat, Jinxie could not envision it. As soon as she entered the door, a pair of shuttered barely clinging to their hinges, the raucous noise from within died down momentarily as a dozen pairs of leering eyes turned to appraise her. The interior was dank and stank of alcohol and sweat, with only a single crystal-powered light over the bar itself providing any light, and that flickered in and out interminably. The floorboards were warped and damp with mold and mildew, puddles of cheap beer splashed about as if it had just rained inside the shoddy building. Mingled with the salty air blowing in off of the Silver Seas and the rank odor carried by the patrons, it was a place which truly offended all five of Jinxie’s senses.

It was a confused mix of emotions as she stepped inside, doing her best to not seem like a single blond woman in a bar full of drunken sailors. She had left her tabard at the inn, choosing instead to don an inconspicuous cloak and shirt, the hood pulled up high enough to enshroud most of her features. Her slim legs and decidedly feminine boots were still visible as she walked in, earning her a variety of catcalls. To her relief, however, many of the enormous men seemed more intent on playing cards or dice, or simply drinking whatever was put in front of them than ogling a half-concealed woman. The women these men were used to usually flaunted what they had – to fetch a better price.

So while she had her trepidations about entering the Drowned Rat, she found it mingled with a sense of gratefulness that she had even made it to Nashmau. The journey had not been easy.

It had only taken a week for Xaerus to ascertain the one thing known about the man called Kkel Solaar. He had left Urghuum for Mindartia, supposedly heading for the Kolshushu region. It had been difficult to come by even that vague direction, Xaerus had said, as details of his departure were hidden away in utmost secrecy. All that was known to them was the fact that Kkel had been assigned some confidential mission seven years earlier, and had simply never returned to his post. There was no explanation, no official statement, and, as far as they could tell, no attempt before now to find him. They chased after a ghost, yet even that was evidently too much to go on for Razfahd’s liking.

Not the day after Xaerus had ferreted out her discovery of Kkel’s last known destination, the entire Imperial Navy had been mobilized. An immense operation cracking down on the Corsairs operating in the Silver Seas and surrounding bodies of water was announced by the Grand Vizier, and every ship not designated an official Imperial vessel was to immediately present itself for temporary indefinite service in maintaining supply lines to the brave men and women defending the Empire at sea. There was not a ship to be found in the entire port of Whitegate not conscripted into service, and therefore unable to bring Jinxie back across the Gugru Blue. The entirety of sea craft in the Empire was dedicated now to the rooting out and destruction of the Corsairs.

That left them with the obvious solution. Find a Corsair.

“I know where we can find one,” Isset told them, the woman and her amazing marionette, Shoki, standing in the doorway to Jinxie’s room. The faceless puppet still somehow managed to look as mysteriously smug as its master.

“You want us to cross into Nashmau,” Xaerus said, the blindfolded woman staring sightlessly out the window of their room, drawn by the warmth of the sunlight streaming through. Isset drew her face into a pout when the Mithra spoiled what had clearly been something she had been hoping to reveal herself. Xaerus turned towards the door where she stood, flicking a curious eyebrow. “And how do you propose we cross the sea any easier than the ocean?”

The smile came back to Isset’s face, as if she’d been queued into her next line. Her profession as a Puppetmaster had clearly brought with it some degree of showmanship. “Come with me back to Naja’s and you’ll see.”

Naja Salaheem, the Mercenary General and owner of Salaheem’s Sentinels, had been surprisingly enthusiastic about the idea of finding Kkel Solaar, though perhaps because Jinxie had deliberately withheld much of the information surrounding the task. To the best of Naja’s knowledge, they were performing a task for Nashmeira herself with glorious reward promised should they recover the lost hero of the Empire. The red-coated Mithra eyed them appraisingly as they entered, tapping the handle of her trademark spiked mace against her shoulder.

“Yer a walkin’ miracle woman, aren’tcha, Jinxie?” Naja said, sounding insincere. She tapped her mace against her shoulder, peering sideways at the trio as they entered. “First you take out the Hydra, now ye’re off t’ find Kkel Solaar himself. And all in th’ name of Salaheem’s Sentinels. Of course, I can’t get fully behind you since you haven’t signed th’ official contract yet . . .” her eyes took on a meaningful glint, her hands already sliding a set of forms across her desk.

“Sign me up for this one again,” Isset said, cutting her off, “and I’ll have to borrow Speed, too.”

Naja squinted at the Puppetmaster, giving her a snarl as she retracted her contract offer. “So you need t’ break through t’ Nashmau, Isset here tells me,” the Mercenary continued smoothly, “but can’t on account a’ th’ whole Imperial navy bein’ up in arms. Well, as it turns out, with so many crews t’ man, there’s been a large call for mercenaries t’ sign up an’ fill the empty slots . . . “

Thus Jinxie, Xaerus, Isset, and Speed, the dull-eyed Private his usual self again as he unsteadily walked across the deck of the Imperial merchant vessel, drafted into service, that they had found passage on, made it through to Nashmau. Such was the demand for crew hands to fill the sudden deluge of ships on the water that their forged papers and false names were never questioned, and within a few days they had found themselves in port at Nashmau, where they hastily shed their new identities. That was where they had run into their second complication.

While it had been a good idea at the start to find a Corsair, the time it had taken them to find passage across the Silver Seas and make it to Nashmau allowed Razfahd’s order to take effect. The action against illegal ships had been swift and terrible, with wreckage burning from the Talacca Cove to the Ilrusi Atoll. Every pirate stronghold and hideout was under constant watch, and the once-dreaded Corsairs now laid as low as they could to avoid even a hint of suspicion. Every inquiry she’d made for the past week had brought her nothing but dead ends. No one was even willing to own up to having a ship, let alone wanting to sail one.

All crossing the Silver Seas had gotten them was time away from Drake, whom Jinxie desperately missed. She hoped he was safe with Abquhbuh, whom had once again graciously volunteered his services in watching after the infant. Thoughts of her son kept pushing her forward, determined to find something that would help her do what she needed to do. No matter how difficult Razfahd made the already impossible quest he had laid before her, she would find a way to do it, and she’d laugh in his face when Kkel Solaar marched back into the Imperial Palace with her at his side.

She took a steadying breath, memories of the last few days being set aside, and sat down at the bar. Somewhere in the Drowned Rat, if the information they had finally bribed out of a Qiqirn could be believed, was the one man deadly enough, or perhaps crazy enough, to set sail under the blockade. Jinxie would not leave until she found him. This was their last, desperate lead. She wouldn’t let it fall through.

Unfortunately, she had not even a description to go on, only a name. Any of the hulking Galka, jeering Humes, imperious-looking Elvaan, or maybe even the awkward Qiqirns all inhabiting the tavern could be the man she was looking for. Placing a coin on the counter for a drink, she stopped the hand of the bartender when he came to take it, placing a glass of watered-down beer in front of her. The barkeep, bald, covered in tattoos and with a patch over one eye, stared grimly down at Jinxie as she took her hand away slowly, looking up at the man with a steady gaze.

“I’m looking for someone,” she told him, “someone who will set sail.” She kept her voice low, trying not to draw the attention of the other patrons.

“Yer outta luck, sweetie,” the bartender said, his voice a rasping growl. Without turning his head, he spit out the side of his lips, the saliva and tobacco within it colliding with a brass spittoon nearby him. “Ain’t no man here stupid enough to unfurl in these waters.”

The day outside was sunny and warm, and the winds slight and pleasing. The sea was calm and beautiful for miles. It was clear what he actually meant.

A silver imperial coin rolled down the sleeve of Jinxie’s robe and found its place where the bronze one she had laid down earlier had been. Jinxie let the one-eyed man see it, then placed a finger over it, letting her gaze meet his. The bartender’s eyes glanced down, and though his hand twitched, he didn’t make a move to take it.

“I had heard there was a man here that made a living braving storms like these,” Jinxie said, casting a look about. None of the score or so men inhabiting the wharf dive looked that indistinguishable from one another, and for a moment she worried that she might be wrong. Then she saw the bartender’s eyes flicker, just briefly away from both her and the coin, and she pressed on. Another coin, this one minted of solid mythril, clinked against the silver one, joining it at being pressed under Jinxie’s forefinger. “I need to speak with that man.”

The bartender looked at the coins in front of him. A silver and a mythril coin were easily twenty times more valuable than anything he saw day to day.

“These be rough waters, darlin’,” he said, leaning forward and squinting at Jinxie with a dark and narrow eye, “I’ll not be sendin’ any a’ my patrons t’ th’ briny deep.”

A second mythril coin joined the first, and a second silver as well. The bartender stared at them openly, pressed in a stack beneath Jinxie’s finger.

“If anything happens, this should cover their loss as a customer, wouldn’t you say?”

The bartender snatched the coins away from Jinxie, who moved her finger away, allowing him to have his bribe. At any point she could have unleashed her power on the bar and its patrons and simply stormed through everyone until she got the answers she needed, but the need to keep a low profile was a must. There was no telling what would happen if Razfahd discovered they had made it out of Al Zahbi. To the best of his knowledge, they were all staying in the quarters provided by Salaheem’s Sentinels, both she and Xaerus sick with some disease contracted from the Hydra. The rumor of an illness was enough to keep visitors and spies at bay.

“E’s ‘n ‘th back,” the bartender said, snatching a glance to each side to make sure he wasn’t overheard. “But ye might find ye’d rather take yer chances with th’ krakens.”

The Red Mage stood, her heart beginning to race. The one-eyed bartender looked around one more time, making sure everyone was too caught up in being drunk and raucous before thumbing a meaty hand to one side, putting it back down again before anyone could see. Jinxie made no gesture of understanding, simply sat and took a sip of the ale in front of her. The taste was awful, but she choked it down, waiting several minutes as business resumed.

When she judged enough time had passed, she stood up, setting another bronze coin down on the counter, and made her way in the direction the bartender had indicated. Behind a drunken Tarutaru, snoring against the bar, and several sharp-eyed Galka playing cards against one another, there was a door to a back room. Smoke drifted out from underneath it, and a burly Hume guarded the way, as tattooed and formidable as the bartender had been. Jinxie straightened her back and crossed over to where he stood.

“I’m here to see the captain,” she said in a low voice, letting her hood cover her eyes.

“E’s busy,” the man drawled, the salt of the sea in his voice. “C’m back later.”

“It’s very important that I see him now,” she pressed.

The Hume drew his lip up into a sneer, unfolding his arms as he balled his hands into fists. “Can’t you ‘ear, wench?” he growled at her, “I said th’ captain ain’t – “

Jinxie didn’t give him the chance to finish his sentence. He staggered once, eyelids drooping as his mouth fell agape, and then toppled over to the side, snoring audibly. Her sleep spell had gone undetected, and the few that even witnessed the event just saw another drunk collapse, paying it no heed. Steadily, Jinxie placed her hand on the doorknob. She waited for only a moment, then opened it just a crack and stepped inside.

The back room was a fair deal nicer than the rest of the bar. The floors were in a much better state of repair, and a series of lamps strung across the walls provided the only decent lighting Jinxie had seen. Barrels of ale and foodstuffs lined the walls, and the smell of fish and brine mingled with the smoke in the air. The source of the cloud was at the very center, a soft burning glow.

There was only one man inside, his feet propped up on a barrel of grog. The entire room was filled with the bitter smoke of a thick cigar he had clapped between his yellowing teeth, which he withdrew to blow another thick ring into the air. His eyes flitted towards Jinxie as she entered, but he made no move from the expansive chair in which he sat. He was thick and broad-shouldered, wearing a massive brown coat laced with white, his hair concealed under a heavy trireme hat. A number of earrings dangled from his pointed ears, and his fingers were surmounted with a variety of jeweled rings, all set on golden bands. The Elvaan tapped ash from the end of his cigar, his silver eyes not moving even when Jinxie slid her hood back, revealing her features to the pirate.

“Ye look a fair shade more expensive than anythin’ I normally settle fer,” he drawled, twirling the cigar around in his fingers. “I thought I made it clear I was on a budget.”

Jinxie repressed her outrage at his implication. “I’m here on business, captain.”

He let out a hoarse laugh, clapping the cigar between his teeth again as he rubbed at the three-day scruff on his cheeks. “A ‘carse ye are, darlin,” he laughed, “that’s why I sent fer ye in th’ first place.”

The Red Mage clenched her teeth together. This wasn’t going to get her anywhere. As the Corsair laughed, she drew up one gloved hand, and, focusing her energy, unleashed it directly at him.

He let out an oath as a crack of lightning surged forward, turning his cigar into cinders in his grasp. His heavy black boots clomped on the ground as he rose in a flash, a curved sword rising in his grasp as he stood. Jinxie stood her ground, not moving when the captain drew a gun from his coat, leveling it at her steadily.

“Ye won’t take me!” he declared, his face livid, “ye might’ve gotten th’ others, but ye won’t capture – “

“Captain!” she called out, “calm down, I’m not here with the Empire.”

He looked at her untrustingly. “I don’t believe ye,” he said plainly, “these ain’t times where I c’n take any strange woman at her word.”

Jinxie held up her hands, letting him watch her carefully. Slowly, she opened up the folds of her cloak and withdrew a small burlap sack. Untying the string holding it shut, she tossed it down on the ground. The Elvaan did not move his gun from Jinxie’s head, but his eyes fell on the bag nonetheless.

Golden coins spilled out of it as it hit the ground. The entire reward Jinxie had received for defeating the Hydra lay before him, and he visibly wet his lips as he looked down at it.

“What d’ ye want with me?” he asked, his tone still wary.

“I need to cross the Gugru Blue,” she said, “and no Imperial ship will take me. No Corsair who still has a ship is brave enough to attempt escaping Imperial waters. They’ve all turned me down, until I heard about you. The most daring, they say, pirate ever to sail the Silver Seas. They say the Empire cringes at the very sound of your name. If anyone is willing to take on the task of slipping by the Imperial Navy, I know it’s you. All you have to do is sail me across the ocean, then sail me back, and all that is yours.”

He eyed it greedily. A fast ship could cross the distance between the western part of the Empire and Mindartia in a few days, a week at the most, and he was reputed to own the fastest ship ever to set sail. A few days work would earn him a fortune.

A smile crossed his lips, and slowly he set down his gun. “Ye’ve got a flattering tongue on ye, lass,” he told her. “Ye speak the truth though; there’s not a man what’s ever sailed in open water that don’t fear the name of the Dread Corsair Arvin.”

Jinxie knew she had her fish hooked; she just had to reel him in. “It’s just I and three others,” she told him. “We expect nothing save safe transport. Perform that for us and you’ll be rewarded past this advance you see now.”

Arvin’s eyes lit up in the flickering lamplight. He looked back and forth from the gold on the floor to Jinxie, his thoughts plain on his face. The lure of such wealth and the chance to expand his own infamy was quickly superseding his fear of Imperial ships. He smacked his lips again, sheathing the sword he had drawn, and glanced about the room.

“Akisu!” he bellowed. “Where are you?!”

To Jinxie’s surprise, the lid flew off one of the barrels in the corner, and a sandy-haired youth, fourteen at the most, popped his head out from inside. “Yes, sir, Cap’n Arvin, sir!” he shouted, arm flying up in a salute.

“Boy, what in Leviathan’s scales are ye doin? Get outta there!”

Akisu scrambled out of the barrel, his lanky limbs fumbling over each other as he pulled himself free. “Sorry, sir!” he explained, “the cigar smoke was bothering me, sir, and that barrel was full of these delicious pickles, and – “

“Shove it, lad!” Arvin barked, and Akisu snapped to attention. The boy was dressed in a stout pair of breeches and thick boots, but wore only a vest over a bare chest. He looked half Arvin’s size as the Corsair bore down on him. “Go gather up th’ crew, we got ourselves a job.”

“Right away, sir!” Akisu exclaimed happily, and then skidded on his heels when he saw Jinxie. “Oh! Are you here for – “

“Lad!” Arvin overpowered his sentence with his voice, casting a disarming grin at Jinxie, who only raised her eyebrow. “Go get th’ men, we need t’ make plans about how we’re gonna be sailin’ outta here under th’ Imperial’s noses right away. Get to it!”

“Yes, sir!” the youth obeyed, running out the door on his skinny legs.

Arvin snatched the gold off of the floor as Akisu disappeared into the tavern full of rowdy sailors twice his size. “Our cabin boy be a might overly loyal,” he explained, “but ye can’t buy enthusiasm like that.”

“I don’t need your enthusiasm,” she replied bluntly, “just your skill.”

Arvin smiled. “My dear, ye’ll find th’ rumors t’ be drastically understated. Their ain’t a better captain on the high seas than I, and their ain’t a better ship t’ be found than the Proteus.”

She nodded in response. “Then I will meet you back here tomorrow,” she informed him, “and we’ll set sail”

“In a hurry, are ye?” he said, scratching his chin. Then he shrugged, raising the folds of his massive coat. “Fer more a where this came from,” he bounced the sack of gold in his grasp, “the Dread Corsair Arvin’ll get ye safe away from th’ Dark Rider himself.”

“Tomorrow then, captain,” Jinxie said, giving a slight perfunctory bow. She turned and left. Arvin’s greed, she knew, would keep him from leaving with her money when there was more still more gold to be had. She didn’t mention, of course, that what she had presented to him was everything she had left.

Hurriedly, she slipped out of the Drowned Rat and made her way back to the inn. There was only a day to prepare, and then they would attempt to break past the first obstacle barring them from reaching the dauntingly elusive figure, the Sunserpent Kkel Solaar.