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

Chapter Twelve

This was not going to be easy.

“I understand, sir,” she said.

Just then, McKinley threw open the door to the cabin and strode vigorously inside, towing Eadric alongside him. “Found this outside, looking out of place. Nearly broke my heart.”

“Unhand me you vile cretin!” Eadric shouted as he struggled to free himself, then glared at the pirate, who held up his hand in a benevolent gesture.

“No need to thank me, my feathered friend. I’m sure they’d have let you in eventually.” He glanced to the two officers, then pulled himself upright with a sheepish grin. “Oh, I’m sorry. Was I interrupting?”

“Yes,” chorused Marshall and Ryder without missing a beat.

“Well, don’t mind me. I’ll just wait here until you’re done.” McKinley seated himself in a chair near Marshall’s desk, leaned back, and planted his heels on the desktop with a reverberating thunk. “Or, for the sake of expediency, I could sum up this morning’s interactions so that we can get on with the loathsome business of sharing the same space. You,” he pointed to Ryder, “Think this is a bloody mad idea because pirates are dangerous. You,” his finger moved to Eadric, “Think this is a bloody mad idea because pirates are icky. And you,” he gestured at last to Marshall, “Just want your ship in order for honor and duty, the greater good and all of that nonsense.” Then he repeated the cycle in quick succession, proclaiming, “You’re right. You’re right. And you’re completely barking bonkers, but you’re the captain and that’s all there is to it, so there. Now, if we’re all caught up, why don’t the two of you scuttle along and leave the sussing of the details to the scary folk, aye?”

Ryder gave him a glare that said she was restraining herself.

Eadric sputtered indignantly.

At a nod from Marshall, the lieutenant ushered Eadric from the room, only to have him pull from her grip and storm to McKinley’s side, where he jabbed an angry wingtip into the Marauder’s face.

“You! Are a foul and repugnant ruffian and I’ll be drowned if I will spend one second in your presence without protest! I was thrilled with your monumental capture – thrilled! But this idea, this, this… pretense of being on the same level of civility, I cannot accept! I won’t do it, I tell you!”

McKinley stared at him blankly for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he said at last. “I stopped paying attention after you said something about being drowned. Were you asking for help with that? Because I’d be more than happy to oblige.” He bared his teeth in a malicious smile. “That’s the accommodating sort of repugnant ruffian I am.”

Eadric made a strangled sound and pulled his wingtip away from the Marauder’s mouth, as though he might bite it off.

“Come on, Advisor.” Ryder put a gloved hand on the bird’s back. “No one’s going to let the big, bad pirate hurt you. Let’s go see about breakfast while they decide how and when to unleash the rest of his ilk into the populace.”

McKinley watched them leave, then turned to Marshall with gratification on his face. “Am I mistaken, or did he just call my capture ‘monumental?’ Not that I disagree, I’m just surprised he was able to recognize it.”

“To the matter at hand…”

“Indeed!” The Marauder sat studiously forward and clapped his hands. “Before we begin, I’d like to say out of conscience that I don’t like you. And, well, being a pirate and all, I’ve grown into the habit of dispatching those I don’t like. But, as I’m sure you pointed out to your faithful lieutenant, this can-do ship of yours has something very special to offer. Namely, the Fortune. Perhaps even better, the chance to spit in the Baron’s enormous, muscle-bound eye and maybe sack his ship in the process. Thanks to him, I am in the market for a new one. Seems only fitting. So, seeing as your glorious leadership skills are set and prepped to spearhead their way to my revenge and prosperity, I’m more than willing to put aside our differences and, at least moderately, swear fealty to you and yours.”