'Heard you saved the captain,' the sailor said.
'He's alive, but in bad shape.'
'Aye. Cook's standing outside his cabin door, sir. Wi' a cleaver and – ask any hog – the man can use it. Bern's blessing, I seen the man shave wi' it once, as clean as a virgin's tit.'
'Who is standing in for the officers?'
'If y' mean who's got things shipshape and all the hands at stations, that'd be me, sir, only our new commander ain't much interested in jawing wi' me. His swordsman's come over to tell me t' get ready to heave to, once the seas have settled some.'
'To transfer cargo.'
The man nodded.
'And then?'
'Well now, if the commander's true to his word, they'll let us go.'
Kalam grunted. 'And why would they be so kind?'
'Aye, I've been chewin' that one myself. We got sharp enough eyes – too sharp for them to breathe easy. Besides, there's what's been done to Captain. Got us a little peeved, that has.'
Boots thumped midships and the two men turned to see the bodyguard lead the marines onto the main deck. The lieutenant was looking none too happy.
'It's the gods' puke all round us now, sir,' the sailor muttered. 'Raider's closing.'
'So we've arrived,' Kalam said under his breath. He looked across to Salk Elan and found the man's eyes on him. The assassin gave a nod and Elan casually turned away, his hands hidden beneath his cloak.
'That raider's got a shipload of swords, sir. I make fifty or more, all gettin' ready.'
'Leave them to the marines. Your crew stays back – spread the word.'
The sailor moved off.
Kalam made his way to the main deck. The treasurer was facing off with the lieutenant.
'I said to surrender your weapons, Lieutenant!' the treasurer snapped.
'No, sir. We will not.'
The treasurer was trembling with rage. He gestured to his bodyguard.
The big tribesman did not get very far. He made a choking sound, hands reaching up to claw at the knife protruding from his throat. Then he fell to his knees, toppled.
Salk Elan stepped forward. 'Change of plans, my dear sir,' he said, bending to retrieve his knife.
The assassin moved behind the treasurer and pushed the point of his long-knife against the man's lower back. 'Not a word,' he growled, 'not a move.' He then turned to the marines. 'Lieutenant, prepare to repel boarders.'
'Aye, sir.'
The raider was coming alongside, the pirates jostling as they prepared to leap the distance between the ships. The difference in height meant that they had a climb to make – nor could those on deck see much of what awaited them on Ragstopper. A lone crewman on the raider had begun a lazy climb towards the lone mast's tiny crow's nest.
Too late, you fools.
The pirate captain – the treasurer's uncle, Kalam assumed – shouted a greeting across the distance.
'Say hello,' the assassin growled. 'Who knows, if your cousins are good enough, you might win the day yet.'
The treasurer raised a hand, called out his answer.
There was less than ten paces between the two ships now. Salk Elan approached those of the Ragstopper's crew who stood near the marines. 'When she's close enough, use the grappling hooks. Make sure we're snug, lads, becuse if she gets away, she'll hound us from here to Falar.'
The pirate climbing the mast was halfway up, already swinging around to see if he could get a better look at the scene on Ragstopper's main deck.
The raider's crew threw lines across. The ships closed.
A cry of warning from the lookout was cut short by a crossbow quarrel. The man toppled, landing amidst his fellows crowding the raider's deck. Angry shouts arose.
Kalam gripped the treasurer by the collar and dragged him back as the first of the pirates leapt the distance and swarmed up Ragstopper's flank.
'You've made a terrible mistake,' the treasurer hissed.
The marines answered the assault with a murderous flight of quarrels. The first line of pirates pitched back.
Salk Elan shouted a warning that brought Kalam spinning around. Hovering just off the port side, directly behind the grouped marines, an apparition took form, its wings ten paces across, its shimmering scales bright yellow and blinding in the new day's light. The long reptilian head was a mass of fangs.
An enkar'al – this far from Raraku – Hood's breath!
'I warned you!' the treasurer laughed.