Steer a Pale Course by Gail Z. Martin

Author:Gail Z. Martin [Martin, Gail Z.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: DreamSpinner Communications
Published: 2013-02-01T00:00:00+00:00

The next morning, the sky was bright and clear. I woke just after dawn, and went looking for Coltt. Found him dangling from a rope off the bow of the ship, and for a moment, I thought he’d saved the king the trouble and hanged himself. Then Coltt hoisted himself over the rail, and I saw the make-shift rigging he’d made.

“Can’t paint the whole boat, but I struck Jammer’s flag and scraped off the name on the hull,” Coltt said in a matter-of-fact tone. I knew that meant he’d struggled with our outlaw status all night and come to terms with it. He wasn’t much for talking about things like that. “Went down in the hold and found some black paint. Should do until we get to Chasston, or wherever.”

I peered over the edge. “Vengeance” had been painted over a scraped-bare spot on the hull. Probably not original, but Coltt had summed it up.

I turned to find him seated on the deck, looking at me, or maybe past me at the sky.

“What now?”

I dropped to the deck beside him. I didn’t look at him; I looked at the clouds. Looking at Coltt would make me think of Mother and Jana and Nesh and I wasn’t ready to mourn them, not yet. So I looked at the clouds instead. “Father had an uncle in Chasston. Took me down to meet him once, a long while ago. Cagy old man. Father said he ran a curio shop. Said that meant he bought and sold old and unusual things, no questions asked. According to father, Uncle Evann had a foot on both sides of the line when it came to the law, honest enough to not make trouble with the king’s men, dodgy enough to not care about where his treasures came from.”

“You think he’d help us?”

I shrugged. “If he doesn’t, we find a tavern to set up shop and look for someone who needs cargo run cheap. It’s worth a try.” I was quiet for a moment. “I’m going to take the necklace,” I said quietly, as if I was afraid it would hear me, lead box or not. “I don’t want the damn thing around, and I don’t want blood money for selling it. I just want rid of it.”

“Can’t blame you.” Coltt might not have heard the necklace talking to him, but he was good about taking me at my word. I was glad, because I had enough trouble shutting out the memory of how the necklace had fed my blood lust. I’d killed Jammer without remorse, and I didn’t like knowing that I could do such a thing, even if he deserved it. If I got rid of the necklace, maybe I’d never feel that way again. Ever.

By night, we’d hiked into Chasston. We’d looted the dead pirates’ quarters for some coin, enough to buy dinner and some ale. We were unshaven and smelling of salt water, but the whores in the narrow Chasston streets came on to us anyhow.

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