The Mosque Hill Fortune (The Sons of Masguard, Book One)

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

“Permission to speak freely, sir!” Ryder fought the urge to slam the door behind her.

“Permission granted,” Marshall responded impassively, pulling a vial of rare mineral oil from his desk. He seated himself and began the delicate task of wiping his sword, not bothering to look up as his first lieutenant continued, her voice thick with bewilderment.

“Have you lost your mind?”

He raised an eyebrow, but kept his focus on the oil and cloth. “Not that I’m aware, Lieutenant.”

“Captain,” she breathed in exasperation. “They’re pirates.”

“Yes, they are. And I have granted them temporary amnesty, pending their assistance with our repairs.”

“Forgive my thickness, sir. But…” She pressed her gloved hands together and spoke as though explaining algebra to a mollusk. “They’re pirates.”

“Duly noted. Will there be anything further?”

“Captain!” They were interrupted as Eadric burst through the door. “I simply must protest this… this horrendously unorthodox maneuver!”

Ryder grabbed him by the collar as he passed her.

“You,” she said sharply, dragging him back the way he had come. “Will wait your turn!”

She shoved him back onto the deck and closed the door in his face.

“Sir.” The lieutenant turned to him with folded arms. “I understand that time is of the essence here. Their help could buy us a day, maybe more. I see the logic. I just… can’t help but think there’s more to it than that. Don’t think that I am in any way questioning your orders, but…”

“Are you refusing them?” He returned the vial to its place in the drawer and sheathed his sword.

Ryder’s arms fell to her sides. The look of shock that crossed her face at his words said plainly that the thought had not – nor would it ever – occur to her. “You are my captain. Even after Commander Calum’s betrayal, you must know what that means to me.”

“I do not doubt your loyalties, Lieutenant. No more than I doubt your strength.” He moved around to the front of his desk and sat down on its edge, meeting her gaze on a level plane. “Which is why I know, however difficult it may seem, that I can ask you to work side by side with an enemy and trust you to handle it. – Are you alright, Lieutenant?” He said the last abruptly when he realized she was standing in an odd manner, as though her wounded shoulder were pulling her to one side.

“I’m fine. And this isn’t about the Knight, sir.” She shook her head, dismissing his concern and reading his meaning clearly. “You know what he did and what he’s capable of. I know you will prepare accordingly.”

“I see. Then your unease is over the unknown quantity,” deduced the captain. “McKinley.”

“McKinley,” she concurred.

“It is a risk, but a measured one. You said it yourself, Lieutenant, that the Marauder is motivated by his greed. He wants the Fortune. He can have it. And we will deal with him again when our mission is over. For now, our priority is the scepter.”

Ryder nodded. They both knew gold might buy some measure of loyalty from McKinley and his crew, but it would not buy their lives. If things got dangerous, they would flee. And they would take the ship to do it if they could.