Looking mystified, Faris followed Destin to the far end of the harbor. There, in one of the slips, lay a ruin of a ship—an ancient ketch that had seen hard times. It had been there since before Destin and his mother arrived in Tarvos. He’d tracked down the owner, who had owned the slip she occupied since before Kadar came to town. He’d refused to sell his dock space, because then he would have to make a decision about this ship that had belonged to his father and was named after his dead sister Ariya. He couldn’t bring himself to beach and break the old ship, but he might consider selling her for the right price.
Destin knew for a fact that her hull was intact. He’d paid off the watch, who’d allowed him to climb inside and inspect her from bow to stern. He didn’t know much about ships, but he knew quite a bit about construction. Her deck, however, was a disaster. At some point, the ship had caught fire. Though the blaze had been confined above decks, it had charred the masts, the rigging, and the quarterdeck.
“Captain Faris,” Destin said, running his hand along the mooring line with studied nonchalance. “What do you think of this ship?”
Faris stared at it, hands on hips. “That’s not a ship,” he said finally, “that is a cautionary tale.” He looked up at Destin. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m thinking of buying it,” Destin said, his confidence already dwindling. “I’ve not signed papers yet, and no money has changed hands, so if you—”
“What would you do with a ship?”
“I thought—” Destin cleared his throat. “I thought we could work on it together. You built a barn under my supervision. I could build a ship under yours.”
“And then what?” the pirate persisted, staring at him, eyes narrowed, as if trying to peer through his skin to the soul inside.
Pirates don’t have plans, Destin thought, exasperated. Soldiers and engineers have plans. “I hoped that once she was seaworthy, you’d sign on as captain and partner.” There. He’d said it. He waited, pretending to watch the frigate birds circling the harbor.
Faris turned away from the ship and faced Destin. “Partner?”
“You provide expertise and labor, and I provide the capital. We split the profits.”
Something had dawned in Faris’s face—hope mingled with a healthy dose of wariness. “But . . . why would you do that for me?”
“It’s strictly business, Pirate,” Destin said, shrugging, not wanting to seem too hot for the deal. “As you keep saying, this is a hard place to make a living by farming. I want to diversify. And who wouldn’t want to partner with a weather mage?”
Faris looked sideways at Destin, unable to hide his eagerness. “You’ve inspected her?”
Destin nodded. “I believe the decking is sound, except for a bad patch just behind the mizzen.”
Evan put one foot on the gangway. “Do you mind if I have a look?”
“I would like you to have a look, before I put money down. Just watch where you step so you don’t fall through.”
As he followed Faris down the gangway, Destin thought, Maybe this will actually work.
8
RUTHLESS
Evan knew from the beginning of this partnership that he was being played by someone adept at identifying vulnerabilities and exploiting them. He was definitely being wooed—he just wasn’t sure to what purpose.
Don’t trust him, he thought. You trusted Captain Strangward, and look what happened. The empress is still out there, and she may be hunting for you. You can’t afford to trust anyone.
Yet, he couldn’t say no. What the wetlander offered was impossible to resist. If it was an elaborate trap, the soldier was going to considerable trouble and expense when hitting Evan over the head and delivering him to Deepwater Court would work just as well.
The bottom line was that he wanted to trust Destin Karn. He wanted to believe in this ship of dreams they were building.
As partners, they complemented each other like the two halves of a locket. Though both spoke Common, Destin was baffled by Evan’s use of maritime terms and directions. Evan knew the basics of ships’ carpentry when it came to minor repairs, and he had the barn-building experience behind him, but he was no engineer, and neither had ever built a ship. Fortunately, it was more of a repair job than a scratch build.
Evan made a list of materials and Destin sourced them somehow. Tall, clear pine for masts and spars brought down from the Dragonback Mountains. Iron and wood fittings, lanyards, rope, wire, blocks, and the like from the shipyard at the port. Tools such as prickers, heavers, mallets, and spikes. He ordered sails from the sailmakers, too. Given that it was just the two of them, anything that could be bought ready-made or contracted out, he did. Destin seemed to have a lot of money at his disposal, and he spent it freely.
He was also ingenious at devising ways to reduce the numbers needed to crew the ship. It was sometimes an advantage that he had no crew experience. He wasn’t bound by past practice or maritime custom, and so he asked questions about why things were done a certain way and whether they could be done differently. For example, he devised a system of bilge pumps driven by the motion of the ship through water to free up hands for other tasks.
It didn’t take long for Kadar to notice the activity around the ketch. First, two of his ruffins came, demanding paperwork proving Destin and Evan had permission to trespass aboard the ship. After Destin proved ownership of the vessel, there came two of Kadar’s rent-collectors demanding back payments for the slip space. In response, Destin showed his deed to the dockage. Finally, the big man himself appeared, strolling down the dock to their end. He stood, watching them work, for a few minutes.
“You should be taking this work to the shipyard,” he said finally, pointing toward his own establishment across the harbor. “This space ain’t meant for shipbuilding.”
“We’re not shipbuilding,” Destin said. “Just doing some dockside repairs.”
“You look familiar,” Kadar said, scowling. “Haven’t we met before?”
“We have,” Destin said. “My name’s Rocheford. I came to you asking about a pilot.”
Rocheford? Evan’s head came up, but he realized right away that it wasn’t his partner’s real name.
Recognition flooded into Kadar’s face. “Now I remember. But you never followed up.”
“That’s because I found one,” Destin said, pointing at Evan. During all this, Evan had kept his hands busy, letting Destin handle the heat from the dock boss. Now he waved and smiled, enjoying Kadar’s stunned reaction for a few precious seconds before he went back to woolding the mainmast.
“You hired him?” Kadar roared. “He works for me!”
Destin shrugged. “He said he needed work, and I needed work done, so we came to terms.”
“He’s not a shipwright,” Kadar said. “If he told you he is, he’s lying.”
Destin pointed at the rigging rising behind him. “So far, so good. I’m impressed.”
“Faris is a pilot, and I have a job for him now.”
Destin, raising an eyebrow, looked at Evan.
“I wish I’d known,” Evan said, conjuring up a look of regret. “But now I’m under contract. Mister Rocheford offered steady work, so I took it.”
“That’s fine for now, but what are you going to do when this job is finished?” Kadar tilted his head back, looking at Evan through narrowed eyes. “Don’t come crawling to me then. You need to be available when I offer you a contract.”
“I anticipate this will be a long-term engagement, if not permanent,” Destin said. He made a show of pulling out his pocket watch. “Now. I’m not paying this man to talk. You’ll need to continue your conversation later.”
“Don’t worry,” Kadar snarled. “I will.”
Evan swung down from the rigging, and they watched, side by side, as Kadar stalked away.
“Well, he’s pissed again,” Evan said.
“Do you think so?” Destin said, as if unimpressed.
“His thugs will be back tonight,” Evan said. “We’ll have to sleep on board.”
“For one night, maybe.”
“He’s ruthless.”
“I’m ruthless,” Destin said.
Evan cleared his throat, avoiding Destin’s eyes. “I’d prefer not to use magery,” he said. “It might draw attention we don’t want.” He meant from the empress, though he knew by now that Destin and Frances were on the run as well.