Mad Kestrel by Massey Misty

Author:Massey, Misty [Massey, Misty]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-06-29T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER Three

It is an ancient Mariner

And he stoppeth one of three,

“By thy long gray beard and glittering eye

Now wherefore stopp’st thou me?”

—SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE

Trimming the sails, the Wolfshead slowed as she entered Eldraga harbor. It was a huge, deep water lagoon, surrounded by the embrace of the Spits, long arms of land that wrapped in a wide curve forming a protective wall. A dozen other ships of various allegiances were anchored already. Eldraga, being the largest and busiest trading port in the Nine Islands, existed under a flag of truce. All were welcome, whether merchant or pirate, but enmities had to be left outside the boundaries of the island.

The water, stained golden pink from the rising sun, was dotted with small rowboats ferrying men to and fro. In between the rowboats and the bigger ships, mastheads rose from the surface of the harbor like flagpoles, the only evidence that remained of ships whose histories had ended in this harbor, whether by the fury of storms or the mischief of men. Kestrel carefully maneuvered between them, choosing a spot and giving the order to weigh anchor.

The shore was studded with docks, most of them busily crowded with landbound merchants doing illicit business with the pirates under cover of darkness. According to the law, buying goods from anyone who didn’t wear a merchant’s mantle was punishable by heavy fines and sometimes even public flogging, but it went on just the same. Once, when he was thoroughly in his cups, Binns claimed the king himself had purchased the occasional trinket from him. Whether it was true or not, Kestrel didn’t know, but she wouldn’t have been a bit surprised.

Once the Wolfshead was solidly anchored, Kestrel gave the order to drop sail. The deck crew sprang to obey. The sooner they were done, the sooner they could make ready to go ashore. Three men had already volunteered to stay aboard this first night. They’d be busy stitching the tears in the sails, stowing cargo that had been shaken loose, and inspecting the lines for problems no one caught the first time. It wasn’t the favored job, having to wait a whole day while their crewmates were in the taverns carousing, but they received an extra share for their willingness. Kestrel had three others lined up to spell them the next night. No one would feel completely cheated of his shore leave.

A few sudden catcalls caught her attention. Kestrel turned to see what was going on and choked back a laugh. Shadd lumbered out of the hold, waving a hand back to whoever remained below. His wild hair was sticking out around his head, curls exploding in every direction, the usual result of washing without benefit of a combing. He’d scrubbed the gunpowder shadow off his face, beard, and hands, and he was wearing a bright blue shirt and a purple satin doublet over yellow breeches. He looked behind him, grinning at the whistles that still echoed from the hold. “Just remember this later, when all the ladies are hangin’ on my arms and ignoring you filthy beggars.

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