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“Lad, what did I just say? No one’ll have realized the ship’s missing yet. It’s the best time to dock.”
Jarin thought of his deal with the siren. Would she keep her word and kill the captain? Nothing stopped her from making a deal with Artus, instead.
The commander couldn’t go back on his decision to take Drue to scuttle the ship, though. Artus had a shark’s nose for blood, and he’d realize Jarin was up to something. He’d have to be careful.
When he spoke, he tried to keep his voice casual. “There’s a siren in the brig. Quite a sight.”
Artus snorted. “How so?”
“Go see for yourself.”
The captain smoothed the ratty lapels on his jacket. “I might. Now get going. I’ve a thirst for the many delights of Klatos.”
Praying it was the last time he’d see Artus alive, Jarin rowed to the royal ship with Drue and Berolt.
They set sail for Skull Cave, adjusting the rigging as they stepped over dead bodies. Once they’d started the ship moving, Drue helped Jarin haul the bodies overboard. The cabin boy retched several times, but didn’t beg out of his duties.
He was a stocky lad who’d stowed away on the Pandora at Port Hyacinth in the wintertime. The deep bruising on his face hinted why he’d left his home, and he’d proven himself a diligent enough worker to earn a place on the crew. He reminded Jarin of himself and his own beginnings. He knew what it meant to have no one to turn to and nowhere to go.
“Are we going to kill the folk down below?” asked Drue after they’d dispensed with the bodies.
He gazed at the blood-stained deck, as if hypnotized.
“Do you want to?” replied the commander.
The boy shook his head, brushing his messy black hair from his eyes.
“Good. Stay up here with Berolt. We’ll leave the ship at Skull Cave and go ashore in the rowboats.”
The commander went below deck to see how many crew members Artus had left alive. As he descended the stairs, he tore off his shirt and tied it around the bottom of his face. Since he was not going to slaughter these people, he needed to conceal his identity.
Jarin already had enough blood on his hands. More blood than could ever come off. All Dark Tide Clan pirates did, except maybe Drue.
More than a dozen men and youths were beaten and gagged in the brig. Their eyes widened in fury and fear when he entered, cutlass on his belt. The cell was locked with a padlock, the key left on a shelf near the stairs. He turned the key over in his hand, deciding how to manage the situation. Although he meant to let the crew live, he also needed to prevent them from reaching Klatos before the Pandora set sail later that evening.
In the end, he replaced the padlock with ropes tied in hundreds of complicated knots. He used mostly constrictor and bowline knots, pulling them tight with each loop. By the time he’d finished, even the most experienced sailor would take a day and night to unravel the entire mess.
“You.” He pointed at the smallest youth. “Over here, now.”
The kid obeyed, shuffling to the iron bars.
“Give me your hands.”
Jarin cut the bindings around the youth’s wrists, noting the weak-looking nature of his hands. He wasn’t a sailor. The kid would be lucky to set the crew free before tomorrow, by which time the Pandora would be long gone.
The boy dolefully began picking at the knots, frowning in confusion.
“Have fun with that, kid,” said Jarin with a laugh.
Back on deck, the dark and jagged silhouette of Skull Cave appeared in the distance. The cave was deadly to sailors because of the unseen rocks beneath the water at its mouth. None but the most skilled sailors could navigate them, and every crew except the Dark Tide Clan steered well clear of the area.
The clan kept rowboats and supplies hidden inside, and the water-filled caves led to the outskirts of Klatos. It was the ideal place to enter the city by stealth. They’d row through the caves to a desolate beach and scale the city’s walls. But a strong swimmer could dive through the underwater caverns that ran from Skull Cave to Klatos and arrive in the middle of the merchant district.
“What’re you looking forward to doing in Klatos?” asked Jarin, as Berolt and Drue fed the anchor overboard at the mouth of the cave.
He’d said it to lighten the mood, after the gruesome task of disposing of the bodies, but the boy’s answer made Jarin’s stomach drop like the anchor.
“Ah, while you and Berolt were busy rigging up the royal ship, Artus pulled me aside and said he wanted to take me to Madame Quaan’s.” He frowned, scratching his head. “To celebrate my first blood. Said he’s taking the siren, because Lovel told him what she’s got between her legs. Said a rare ocean jewel like that will be worth a pot of gold.”
