Nicolas still couldn't believe it. There he had made such efforts to get to this infamous Captain Blake, and did already have him in his arms unknowingly.
Evan, no, Captain Blake still looked at him with that unnerving smile. "I thought you'd like to see me again? You were eager enough back in that tavern. So it's a rather convenient thing that you ended up being my cabin boy now."
"I'm sorry, Sir, erm, Captain." Nicolas finally found his voice, albeit half an octave higher than usual. "I meant no disrespect. But I would have never thought..."
"No, no one does. And I want to keep it that way." Those blue eyes turned icy. "You're part of my crew now and sworn to secrecy. If you ever breathe a word to anyone what happened in Calez - or what might happen in here - I'll have you walk the plank."
"Understood, Captain." Nicolas straightened up like he was standing in front of his admiral. Then he realized what the sentence implied. "Does that mean..."
"Talking really isn't your forte." Alastair turned around and started to unfasten his breeches. His shirt was long enough to fall down to his upper legs. When he faced Nicolas again, he held out his right arm. "What about obeying orders? I told you to help me get undressed."
Nicolas was sure that he was blushing for the first time in his life. As he was told, he started to unfasten the right cuff, fumbling a bit under the impatient gaze. Strangely, Captain Blake didn't offer him the left arm to continue, but pointed to his collar. Nicolas felt his hands get sweaty, and cursed himself silently. There he was, the Empire's decorated officer and secret agent, not even able to properly unbutton a damn pirate's shirt without flushing like a schoolboy. He took a deep breath, and finally, the layers of fabric parted under his hands. Nicolas remembered the creamy white skin, unmarred by the sun, but covered with various scars betraying a life of fighting. Back in Calez, he hadn't really noticed them, but now he felt the slight uneveness of a scar under the collarbone, dangerously close to the heart. He bent down and kissed it.
A little hitch in the even breathing told him that he should continue.
* * *
Far too early the next morning, Nicolas was woken by a rough shake. He blinked and saw Captain Blake, already fulled dressed and made up in his ghost costume.
"We've just reached our destination. You'll help John and Lucky to get fresh supplies. Clean up in here and see to it that no one sees you leaving my cabin. You may serve me tea again tonight."
Without another word, he left the cabin.
Nicolas jumped out of bed as soon as the door was closed. Although he knew that the charts were locked up in the war room, he quickly searched the room for anything remotely interesting to his mission. But there were just various clothes inside the chest. The jewellery and utensils on the desk turned out to be rather precious little pieces from all four corners of the world, but held no immediate use for Nicolas' mission. He took a deep breath. Captain Blake wasn't stupid. Of course he wouldn't have left a brand new crew member alone in here with delicate information. And if even the tiniest of golden earrings went missing from the desk, he would know for sure who had taken it. But since pirates did not steal from each other, he could leave his treasures lying around in the open.
It was no use. Nicolas looked for his own clothing and quickly put it on, then he did as he had been told and started cleaning up. There was not much to do, completing the picture of Captain Blake being a meticulous and organized person in every part of his life. Even after this night, Nicolas couldn't even think of him as anything different than "the captain", like any other crew member did. This was the perfect postion to win his trust and get on with the mission as planned, but somehow, Alastair Blake seemed to be even more out of reach than before. Under different circumstances, Nicolas might have felt being used. Captain Blake clearly had no other motivation than having a convenient bed fellow at hand who was in no position to have any further use from it. And he had realized very quickly what kind of strange effect he was having on Nicolas that made him play along willingly.
But it was no use thinking about this at the moment. Nicolas was finished with cleaning up when he spotted a pair of boots carelessly put behind the bed. A piece of folded paper fell out of one of the shafts when he lifted them out of their corner. Quickly, Nicolas unfolded the note and read the neat handwriting. When he was sure he had understood everything, he put the note and the boots back in their old place.
He carefully opened the door to see if anyone was outside in the gangway. But the shouting and bustling he heard from above deck quickly told him that the whole crew was outside and too busy to notice him.
Nicolas took a moment to get cleaned up in the bathroom and then headed for the galley. John was already waiting for him.
"No idea what them learned ye in the navy to get up in the mornin', but it's late! Come on, lad, we've lots o' things to do an' lil' time!" he greeted him and pointed at a stack of empty wooden crates in a corner. "Get those on deck. We'll buy tons o' fresh fruits!"
Nicolas mumbled an excuse and started carrying the first crate above deck. The sun was bright and warm, giving even the cool gray of the ship's paint a warm glow. There also was something particularly bright and shining attached to the main mast. Nicolas noticed for the first time that a rather big and exotic-looking silver coin had been nailed there. The Albian navy had forbidden this superstition, but he had seen this on quite a few private vessels. The silver coin was meant for good luck and fair winds. Old sailors swore up and down that if the coin was thrown into the ocean during a particularly dangerous calm or storm, the Sea Goddess would accept the payment and rescue the ship.
The Siren's Call had anchored in small sheltered bay, a few hundred yards away from a white beach lined by huge palm trees. A lush green jungle stretched to all sides. The only visible landmark was a mountain reaching towards the sky with its ragged peaks. Birds of all colors flew out of the trees, their feathers shining like living jewels in the sunlight. Even the air was sweet and fresh, nothing compared to the stink of the ports Nicolas had visited so far.
"Stop daydreamin'! Ye can gawk all ye want later! Move!" John's gruff voice sounded behind him.
Quickly, Nicolas went to one of the long-boats ready to be oared ashore. When he turned around to fetch the next crate, he spotted another vessel anchoring in the bay. It was a frigate, bigger than the Siren's Call by about a third, with at least forty cannons. Nicolas had been surprised to learn that the Siren's Call had only twenty cannons, but since the gunnery crew was excellent, the fire rate was extremely high. And there were also a handful of swivel guns sat the bow and stern to deliver those terribly precise shots at the helm of an enemy vessel. The design of the unknown ship seemed to be Jerainian who prefered much more decoration and ornaments compared to the huge, but simpler Albian ships. Even from afar, the heavily gilded carvings glittered brightly in the sun.
"Sir, whose ship is that?" Nicolas asked John. He had of course spotted the pirate flag which was a bit different from their own: black with a white skull and crossed rapiers underneath.
"That be the Cyclone, Captain Gean Lavertine's ship. Like our captain, he is a member of them atoll council," John told him. "Nice ship, but too slow for me taste. We outrun them anytime."
Nicolas nodded and continued his work. He had heard of Captain Lavertine here and there, a cunning man who was of course doubly hated by the Navy for both being a pirate and a Jerainian. So he was the mysterious writer, and it seemed that the meeting offered in the secret letter Nicolas had found was truly taking place. And if there was indeed an Albian traitor with crucial information on how to deliever a fatal blow to the Empire, he had to learn about it at all costs.
"Sir, may I join the others ashore whem I'm finished?" He just had to try.
But John was in a surprisingly graceful mood again. "Aye. You need to help get them crates ashore anyway. When we be finished, you can look around. But be careful in the jungle: there be jaguars. Them sitting on trees and jump on you."
Nicolas had never heard of those creatures, but didn't want to sound stupid by asking. He would just be careful and have a weapon ready.
* * *
"I'm still not sure if this is such a good idea," Evangielle said softly for the fifth time in so many minutes. She was walking with Alastair down the well-trodden path from the beach into the jungle, with the rest of the crew out of hearing range. "We can't give access to our secrets to an Albian we know nothing of."
"And yet you took Nico Ordano on from the Cygnia," Alastair replied with a little smirk. "He was cashiered from the navy, which is as good as deserting in my eyes."
Evangielle grinned. "He was an excellent fighter. And I don't see you complaining that I picked him of all men by chance. Now you can stop roaming those taverns for entertainment because your loving sister provided you with a cabin boy, personal guard, and bed fellow all wrapped up in one nice package. You should be more thankful for my little surprise."
Now it was Alastair's turned to give her a look. They had no secrets whatsoever from each other regarding their personal affairs, so of course, Alastair had told her about his little intermezzo with Nico in Calez. Now he would never hear the end of it. And he surely didn't need a personal guard.
"We'll take a good look at that Harrison character and decide later," he returned to the topic at hand just as the path gave way to a vast clearing. The village Juna consisted of about twenty solid huts, built on wooden piles, A big and brightly painted hut was located right at the center. Lots of fish was hung up to dry on wooden racks next to the huts, their odor mixing with the sweet smell of freshly-picked fruit already waiting to be collected by the crew. Children were playing chase with pet mungos and monkeys, waving and shouting greetings at the newcomers. Alastair knew that in a few hours, Evangielle would have her hair braided and decorated with seashells from a dozen little fingers, as well as some other crew members with long hair. The children had thankfully never dared to touch his own hair.
The village's elder, an old white-haired little woman with dark eyes still as sharp as a hawk's, carefully went down the stairs from the big hut, aided by two of her granddaughters. All three women were wearing wrap dresses made of brightly colored cotton, adorned with pearl necklaces and shells woven into their long black hair.
"Peace to you, Wavebringer", the elder said in heavily accented Albian. "And to you, Fireheart. We look forward to trade with you as always."
Alastair made a slight bow, and Evangielle curtesied. "And peace to you and your people, Wise One. We are always grateful to be welcome here. We brought very fine cloth, jewels, and spices from far away countries. And we wish to meet with Dan Harrison."
"That new man and our old friend Snakecharmer are waiting for you in the guest hut. There is food. Please stay as long as you like." The elder hesitated for a moment. "Snakecharmer's guest... I cannot tell his name. You should tread softly."
"Thank you, Wise One. We'll speak later." After another bow, Alastair and Evangielle headed for the guest hut which as located at the border of the village, almost reaching into the jungle.
"The elder surely knows how to read people, and she had a special name for everyone we know the second she saw them," Evangielle whispered, her hand involuntarily grabbing for the hilt of her rapier. "There is something wrong with this guy!"
"I know. You stay at the door." Alastair also reached for his own rapier and loosened it slightly in its scabbard to draw it quickly if necessary. There was also the reassuring weight of his dagger in his boot.
There were no doors, just a woven mat in front of each hut's entrance. Alastair carefully moved it aside, taking a moment to get used to the dimness of the room, before he stepped in. Evangielle followed closely behind.
"Cher Capitaine Blake, quel plaisir! And the lovely Evangielle! Please, sit down." Gean Lavertine was sitting on some cushions on the floor with a wooden cup in his hand. With the other, he made a flowing gesture toward the empty spots on the floor. As always, he was richly, almost tastelessly dressed, his mustache waxed to form little hooks and to draw attention to his pearly-white, broad smile. And as always, that smile never seemed to reach his eyes. Alastair suddenly compared this foppish getup with the sweaty black locks and frayed shirt hem of his new cabin boy and knew his decision had been right.
The other man present remained silent. He was rather simply dressed, unobtrusive and modest. His broad shoulders and straight pose, as well as as a rapier in a worn scabbard, betrayed a veteran fighter. The hair, eyes, and neatly-trimmed short beard were plain brown, the skin sunburned as any Albian sailor's. Alastair couldn't make out anything special about him; even guessing his age was difficult, although it must have been about forty. He knew now what the elder had meant.
Slowly, Alastair sat down, but Evangielle remained standing at the entrance. "No wine, thank you," he refused when Lavertine reached out to take another cup and the half-full bottle from behind him. As always, he had brought his own Jerainian wine. "Will anybody else be joining us?"
"Captain Shian Fu was delayed, but she will be here in a few days. I wanted to keep the circle rather small. And you know the others," Lavertine replied. "They would run straight to the admiral." He gestured toward the stranger. "Well, this is Dan Harrison. He'll tell you more himself."
"Thank you, Captain Lavertine. Captain Blake, Mistress Blake, thank you for meeting up with me. I've heard a lot of stories about you." Harrison's tone was polite, but not demure, his accent middle-class Albian. "But you don't know mine yet. I was third lieutenant of an Albian ship of the line for some years, but saw little chance of ever getting further up in the ranks because of my upbringing. You know that all the higher-ranking officers are sons of nobles or very rich merchants, and I am neither. So I started a side business with the destribution of rum and other amenities among the crew. My captain wasn't as stupid as I thought and caught me, so I was dishonorably discharged a few months ago. After that, I decided to join the gentlemen of fortune and met Captain Lavertine by chance."
"I'll tell you the story of how we met while trying to steal from each other another time," Lavertine said with a laugh and refilled his cup. "But now for the interesting part. Harrison?"
Harrison leaned forward. "Have you ever heard about a secret chart leading to the unknown world?"
Alastair raised an eyebrow. "There are no charts leading to the unknown world. We know there is a vast continent south of the Akalu Islands, but no one has found a way to get there yet. There are just Akaluite myths and legends about the untold riches and magical powers waiting there, but they are just that - myths. No one has ever been there."
"That's right. Every sailor knows these stories. But I found some proof," Harrison replied. "A few weeks before I was thrown out of the navy, an admiral was visiting my captain. They talked alone in the captain's cabin late at night. That cabin is next to the war room where I was, studying charts for our next assignment. The wooden wall had a hole in it where my second lieutenant had fired a shot from his pistol while drunk a few days ago, but my captain must have forgotten about it. I could clearly hear every word they spoke."
"Which admiral was it?" Alastair asked. He had made a list of all admirals and the captains of the Albian navy's most important ships.
"Admiral Barus Morton who commands the Flagship Valiance," Harrison said. "He told my captain that there are imminent plans to finally get rid of the pirates once and for all. Several agents would be sent to infitrate them and try to get to the secret charts leading to the Fortune Atoll. Some captains should be convinced to sail under the Albian flag for profit sharing and amnesty. But the main goal was to capture Admiral Heron alive. My captain was told to act as liaison to get secret messages back to Morton, so he had to tell him the whole story first."
"Why?" Alastair had listened to this clearly fabricated tale with dwindling interest, but the mention of Admiral Heron was a new matter.
"Admiral Morton and Admiral Heron are actually old acquaintances. They were navy cadets on the same ship before Heron joined the pirates. Back then, Heron had tried to convince Admiral Morton to join him while the Admiral tried to rescue his friend from this life of an outlaw. They met a few times even after they were standing on different sides. Heron told Admiral Morton that the leader of the Atoll Council was keeping a piece of the secret chart leading to the unknown world. This chart belonged to the very first pirates and was made of seven separate pieces. Six of those were taken to all ends of the earth, but the center piece telling where the others are kept was still in the hands of the pirate leader. Heron wanted to bait Admiral Heron with it, telling him they could set sail and search for those missing pieces. And after they reached the unknown world, they would be rich and powerful beyond compare, even more powerful than the Albian Emperor. Admiral Heron refused, of course. But he had never forgotten about this. He had no doubt whatsoever that Heron had told him the truth all those years ago."
With an abrupt movement, Alastair got up from the floor and dusted off his coat. "Gentlemen, thank you for the yarn, but I think I have more important things to do - like finding real ways to fight Albia."
"Wait!" Lavertine jumped up as well, albeit not as graceful. "Don't you think this is worth finding out more about it? We all know the stories about the first pirate captains, stemming from Jeraine, Albia, Caera, Qiristan, Shawa, and the Akalus. What if they took their parts of the chart back to their home country, hiding it under the noses of their enemies? Some tales are too crazy to be thought up."
"And some tales are too good to be true. Why didn't Admiral Heron set sail on his own to find the missing pieces twenty years ago? If the story had been true, then he would be the king of the world now and we wouldn't even be standing here discussing plans behind his back." Alastair turned toward the door. Evangielle, who hadn't said a word the whole time, gave a slight nod, indicating she was completely agreeing with him. What a waste of time.
"There is a reason why he didn't look for it on its own," Harrison said. "The waters south of the Akalus are too unpredictable and the wind too adverse. Even if he knew the way, he couldn't get there. He would have needed a tideheart."
Now it was Lavertine's turn to snort in disbelief. "Harrison, what are you talking about? So far, I believed your story, or I wouldn't have brought you here. There might be artifacts leading to the unknown world, but there are no tidehearts!"
Harrison's voice was calm and flat. "Captain Blake, you know what I'm talking about, right?" When Alastair turned around to face him, Harrison held up his left hand. It was covered by a glove, with a bit of white bandage around the wrist underneath visible.
Alastair couldn't stop himself from painfully clutching his own left arm for a moment before he took a deep breath. And then he realized the truth.
"We don't need Admiral Heron. I know exactly where his piece of the chart is."