GIN:
BROTHERS BOOK TWO
A. Jane
Smashwords Edition
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imaginations
or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or
locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2011 by A. Jane
All Rights Reserved.
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A
CKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Ferdinand – Thank you again. How you put up with me, I’ll never know.
Table of Contents
Toda Village, Lynda, Far Eastern Continent
Twenty-five years past…
Kynon peeked into his father’s workshop, his grubby little hands plastered on the window,
his breath fogging the pane. If ever he wanted to know where his brother was hiding, it was not
hard to figure out. As far back as Kynon could remember, which granted was not very far since
he was only seven years old, Ellis would be sitting on a stool watching their father create
chocolate.
Right then was no different. Not even seeing Ellis chewing away on a piece of chocolate
was out of the ordinary. And Kynon hated it. He hated that his brother was their father’s favorite.
His face scrunched seeing Ellis picked up and danced around with, his face filled with laughter,
their father laughing as well.
Why didn’t their father do that with him?
“I wish to dance with Papa too,” it was a barely spoken whisper. He thought of knocking on
the glass, but then saw his hands and knew he would be forbidden entrance unless he cleaned up.
He hated bathing. Boys were supposed to be outside and dirty. That’s what his mother always
said.
So why was Ellis not outside and dirty? He was a boy, was he not?
He did not understand when his mother said Ellis was different. He did not understand what
she meant when she said Ellis was not hardy like he was, not when Ellis was a good wrestler. His
twin even beat him sometimes, but he never joined him outside to play, never ran around with
him. Ellis would say he could not keep up or that he was not good at adventures.
“Stupid Ellis.”
“Now, Kynon, hold not your brother’s differences against him. He loves you very much.
Besides, you are his big brother and big brothers look out for their little brothers, protect them.”
Tarna ryn Ferth picked up her son and swung him around. She tickled him until he giggled, then
hugged him close. “I know ‘tis hard, but someday you and Ellis will share many, many grand
adventures together.”
“Not when always is he with Papa.” Kynon snuggled close against his mother. He never had
to worry while hugging her, not about getting her dirty, not about anything. “I want to be with
Papa. I want Papa to give me chocolate too, and to dance with me.”
“Then you would need sit quietly inside all day, and you would need stay clean of dirt.”
“’Tis boring to do so. Why does Papa not come out and play?”
“My poor little boy.” Tarna leaned back and brushed bushy blond hair off her son’s dirt
smudged face. “Papa and I are trying to make our chocolate well known without help from our
families. These starting years are very difficult and we must constantly be busy.”
“But you find time to play with me.”
“For I am not as brilliant with chocolate as your papa. A gift he has to know where each bite
of chocolate comes from and how each variety should be mixed; a gift he shares with Ellis. I
know techniques, but I hold not such knowledge as he does when it comes to taste.”
“Stupid chocolate.”
A laugh escaped and she hugged her son close once more. Standing, her child still held tight
in her arms, she started for a section of the property that was in the shade; the summer sun a little
warm to stay too long in direct gaze of it. Besides, what she wanted was some privacy.
“Where do we go, Mamé?” Kynon looked around, curious what his mother was about. He
snuggled closer, liking how soft she was.
“I wish to teach you something that only you can learn.”
“Only me?”
“Yes, my little love, only you.”
He was dubious about such a claim and his voice said so when he asked, “What about
Ellis?”
“Not even Ellis. ‘Tis a gift that only you would have inherited since you are a ryn Ferth like
me.”
“Is it a secret then?” The dark expression on Kynon’s face lifted and he smiled, liking the
idea of sharing something with his mother, something that Ellis could not do or have.
“Oh yes, ‘tis very much a secret, the ryn Ferth Flare. ‘Tis a trick that you must not show to
anyone but your own children and only if they are like you and me. Do you promise?”
He nodded vigorously. “Yes, Mamé. Never will I tell another.”
Memorial Grove, Festat Valley, Lynda
Five years past…
Torin eth Welex stood over his wife and child’s memorial stone, pain eating him alive from
the loss. The sun beat down on his hatless head and he wished it were raining and miserable
instead of bright and cheery, wanting the weather to match his mood as well as hide the tears
coursing down his face.
He hated that the birds were singing and the taods were rribti rribting and wanted to speak
the most awful things to silence them—anger easier to express than experiencing the rending of
his heart over and over.
“’Tis vengeance I promise you, Alara. I know not what I will do, but I will make that bastard
pay. He will suffer for taking you and our babe from me. He will suffer as I suf…”
He bit down on his hand to stop the scream building in his throat. Were he alone, he might
indulge, but there were others about Memorial Grove. He felt lucky that at least his wife’s
parents had already left, tired of their accusing gazes, tired of their insisting that their daughter’s
memorial be upon their estate in Elaquin. Alara had hated Elaquin—he would never have done
that to her or to their child.
Feeling in control again, he ceased the bite only to discover that he had drawn blood.
Uncaring, he shoved his hand into his pocket and a sob escaped feeling his marriage cuff. He had
been carrying it with him since it unlatched with his wife’s last breath. He had tried to tie it back
onto his wrist, but nothing would hold, and so it resided in his pocket where he could touch it
and always remember.
“I will make him pay!”
20 miles off the Coast of Ganos, Eastern Seas
Ten days past…
“I know not if I agree with your methods, Master Py.” Golden Boots stomped up to the
quarterdeck an hour after they set sail; the winter sun was floating just above the horizon, its’
reflection bright upon the sea. Gin was manning The Argyn Ot’s wheel, but his mind appeared
elsewhere. “Master Py, do you answer?”
Gin hid the start he felt and then looked at the other man. “In regards, Capt’n?”
“To your brother.”
“Responsibility for him now resides with his husband.” Gin pushed the guilt away. Rum
would be fine; he had to believe that. Were his brother with him—Stupid Ellis—never could he
confront his own demons, confront the ryn Ferths about their misdeeds. He knew they were
behind Rum’s accidents and he was going to finally put a stop to them.
“Will Rum not feel abandoned by you? Know I do how much he relies upon you.”
“I explained the situation to him last eve. All is well, Capt’n, unless ye say yer uncle cannot
keep my brother safe.”
“A Boots Suede is; he will do well by Rum. ‘Tis not what I speak of and well you are aware
of it. He was drunk last eve, more so than I have ever seen him. I hold much doubt that he will
recall your words.” Boots crossed his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed. He truly knew not
what his first mate was thinking—Rum was not the sort who dealt well with sudden change. And
he had spoken true when he said that Rum relied upon Gin, mayhap a little too much, but still
relied upon him to be there.
“Then Suede will explain, for I spoke with him as well.”
“And if he were too drunk to recall?”
“Capt’n, married my brother is now.” Gin twisted his hands on the wheel. “I hold nae desire
to know what goes on ‘twixt them while they celebrate. Had I knocked upon their door this
morn, certain I am I would have received an eyeful of naked ass.” And had he kept the
connection between their minds, he knew he would be witnessing even worse. He held no need
to know what perverted things his brother would be up to.
“Never have I seen your brother comfortable around one he knows not. In fact, last eve
came as quite a surprise to me. That he agreed to the marriage with nae thought…”
“My brother is nae maiden. Well versed is he in the intimacies ‘twixt two men.” Gin thought
with those books Rum collected, he had to be a master at fucking.
Boots shook his head and walked away, knowing deep in his gut that danger loomed for his
navigator. Mayhap he would ask Betrys to keep watch. He entered his cabin and knocked on the
mirror three times.
Bay of Gebbin, Lynda. Far Eastern Continent
Present…
Gin disembarked The Argyn Ot, his mind set on his destination, ignoring the guilt still
plaguing him at having kept Rum out of his plans. This was his fight, the ryn Ferths were his
clan; Rum should understand. Besides, he was the older brother, it was his duty to keep Rum safe
—his mother had said so—and he would not allow the ryn Ferths to torment his twin another
day, he would stop the attempts on both of their lives. If he succeeded, and he was determined to
do so—this would end or the ryn Ferths would perish—he might finally be able to live his own
life without Rum hanging upon him.
Stupid Ellis.
It was a dark whisper in his mind, one still lingering from his childhood, and he shoved it
away. He loved his twin; he did this for his twin.
Stupid Ellis.
Gin pressed a wide brimmed hat down upon his blond head, the long, black feather dancing
in the breeze. He wanted to blend in with the crowd and Lyndian men never went about in public
without a hat upon their heads—at least ‘twas so when last he stepped foot upon Lyndian soil
and a quick glance around confirmed the continued trend.
“Where do you go, Master Py?” Golden Boots crossed his arms over his chest as he stood at
the bottom of the gangplank. He knew his first mate was up to something, had known since they
set sail towards the other man’s home port, but of just what Gin was planning, he held no notion.
Gin offered a trouble-making grin. “Family reunion, Capt’n.”
“I see.” Boots shook his head, thinking he should have seen, should have known. “Make
certain to return in two days, ‘tis when we depart. Leave you I will with little guilt if you think I
mean not to stick to the schedule. Expected we are in Elaquin next and I will not be late. Know
you how the Elaquian folk are with their schedules.”
“Aye, Capt’n.” With a nod to Boots, Gin continued on his journey, making his way through
the crowded dock, the way to the vile ryn Ferth manor still burned within his memory—not even
seventeen years of another life could erase it.
“Do ye have me follow the lad?” Rune Stone stood next to Boots, watching where Gin was
heading. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his seacoat after pulling a ratty hat over his dark
hair. He was uncertain how he felt about standing once more upon Lyndian soil, for the last time
had held an explosive argument with his father. If he could avoid his father, ‘twould be a fine
thing. Though he wondered if there was time to visit with his mother.
Boots nodded and waved the man off before returning to supervising the unloading of the
wool and other goods he brought to trade. He felt better knowing Rune would be keeping watch
over his wayward first mate. Rune would keep Gin out of trouble; as his uncle, he had a vested
interest in the matter.
* * *
Gin waited just on the edge of town, his back against the wall of the last building, staring at
the single lane road, the one that would take him slightly inland and south to the ryn Ferth estate,
and grabbed the man following him. Spinning him around, he shoved him against the building
and…
He swore seeing that it was Rune. “Why do ye follow me?”
“’Tis a foolish quest yer on, lad. Would it not be best to have one along to watch yer back?”
“I need not an old man to watch my back.”
“Old! Lad, only am I eight years yer senior and two score is not old. Now, with Rum not
here to aid ye…”
“Rum would be useless for what I desire to do.”
Sadness filled the older pirate’s grey-blue eyes. “Ye think so little of him and ‘tis a shame.
As his twin, ye should know he is not so fragile.”
“As my twin, I know just how fragile he is. Now, return to the boat and tell the Capt’n I
need not his protection.”
“I volunteered my protection for I know what sort of trouble ye are about.”
“Fuck! Why do ye care?”
“Because, ye fool, yer uncle I am and ‘tis my concern to keep ye safe. Now, let us move
along. This part of town,” he looked about, disgust upon his face, “is falling into disrepair with
bandits and thieves lurking about.” It seemed a lot had happened in the twenty years he had been
gone, and not all good.
“Uncle!” Gin tightened his hold on Rune’s jerkin. “What mean ye uncle? Well aware am I
that…”
“Upon yer father’s side. Eltin was my older brother. Still clinging I was to my mother’s
skirts when he married yer mother.”
“I need naught, desire naught, from the tyr Venses, so report back to the old man…” Gin
wasn’t certain what happened, but somehow Rune had switched positions with him and now it
was he who was being held against the building.
“Think what ye wish, lad, but in need ye are of my aid in this venture and there is naught ye
can do to change my mind or chase me away. Now let us be off before the day wanes further or I
will drag ye back to the boat and throw ye in the hold for yer own safety.”
* * *
Torin eth Welex sneezed just as he walked through the large front gates guarding the ryn
Ferth manor and dropped his case, which had the good grace of falling open and spilling all the
papers inside. He hated his job, his life. He consoled himself with knowing that he would not be
working for Doshan ryn Ferth in a few days.
No! He would quit at the end of the day. Why push his luck, his vengeance was complete,
the ryn Ferth fortune no longer within the ryn Ferth coffers.
Besides, The Argyn Ot was in port; he had seen her dock that morn. It had taken all of his
control not to run up and search out her captain, Ellis’s letter in hand. Yes, he would quit and be
on the boat by the morrow’s sunrise; he was already packed, nothing holding him to Lynda’s
shores any longer.
With a sigh, he knelt down and he started gathering the contents of his case, grabbing the
gold cuff that had spilled with the papers first, shoving it into his pocket until he was inside. He
was happy that there wasn’t much of a breeze that day—were he to arrive with a page or two
missing, everything could be ruined.
“Do allow me to aid you,” he spoke in the High Commons parlance of Lynda, allowing his
U’s to dip and when he came to an R, it would roll. He hated to take on the ruse of being Kynon,
he did not wish to be Kynon, but he was willing to do what needed doing for the situation. He
knelt down and started gathering papers, keeping his brows from shooting upwards seeing the
various numbers upon them.
“No need, I have it.” Torin looked up and froze seeing the ghost from his past. He knew he
shouldn’t be shocked, knew he would be seeing him when he begged for passage on The Argyn
Ot, but he never expected him to appear at the ryn Ferth manor.
“Well now, I know not about that, since all you do is sit and stare.” He offered a cheeky grin
to the portly man. “Zasara’s blessings.”
Torin wished to know why Kynon would offer blessings when suddenly he sneezed again
and again. “Thank you. How did you know…?” Another sneeze.
“That you would sneeze?” He touched the side of Torin’s nose, finally seeing the chubby
boy with the untidy sun bleached hair in the grown man with his tidy wheaten hair before him;
the slight down turn of his yiska eyes giving him away. “It twitched right there. ‘Tis what
happened in our youth when you were struck with a round of sneezing.”
“Kynon…” Torin sucked in a breath, hating the way his voice shook. This man… “What do
you do here?”
“Am I disallowed to return? A ryn Ferth I am and ‘twould seem that I would be welcome.”
“You know ‘tis not so. Doshan…”
Kynon’s smile turned troublemaker and he had to keep from slipping into the guttural tones
of his pirate self. “Now I must profess hurt. There would be no welcome for the long lost scion?”
“’Tis why you would have no welcome, and methinks you are well aware of this fact. Intent
you are upon mischief.”
He touched Torin’s cheek, doing his best to keep from cupping the fullness and kissing him
proper. He had always enjoyed those of a more portly build, that Torin had been his first crush,
only made the desire more so; he wanted to suck on those cheeks. No… what he truly wanted
was to pull Torin against him and feel himself press into the other man’s flesh. He nearly
shuddered with lust at the thought, but he was unable to control the beginnings of an erection—
he was glad for his coat.
Dropping his hand, he returned to aiding the one he planned to make his lover, picking up
the papers, straightening them. “You look well. Prosperous even. Though I must wonder what
you do working for such foul beings as the ryn Ferths.”
“Always have those of my House worked for them. How else would the ryn Ferths have
kept their pockets filled with coin? Their marriages are never as advantageous as those of the tyr
Vens.” Placing the last sheet back in his case, Torin once more looked at Kynon…Gin. Ellis had
said that his brother went by the name Gin. He thought he preferred Kynon, especially when he
was acting like Kynon. “Truly you should not have come. Doshan…”
“Needs know that his days of attempted murder are over. No longer will I allow him to harm
my brother.”
Torin studied him a moment longer, uncertain what his ability to Read the situation was
telling him. There were so many conflicting emotions crammed within the other man, much of
them in regards to Ellis, some good, but mostly… “How is Ellis?”
“Newly married.” Straightening, he held out his hand to Torin, posture and tone indicating
he wished not to speak of his twin.
Taking the hand, Torin allowed himself to be helped to his feet, the handle of his case tightly
clenched in his fist, knowing everything was now in peril. He pulled his hand away, turned and
started the long trek to the back entrance of the manor, already winded—he needed to drop a few
pounds.
“Where do you go? Is not the front door this way?” Kynon placed a hand on Torin’s
shoulder, motioned to the door with the other.
“I care for his finances, think you that Doshan considers me more than a servant? He does
not deem me or my occupation worthy of such significance as entering the front door and being
received.”
“Then a fool he is. Methinks ‘twould be most prudent to treat such an individual with the
respect they are due. Are you skilled at your job?”
“I would like to think so, yes. The ryn Ferths capital has increased each quarter since I have
been in charge, as it did with my mother.”
“And she is well?” Seeing the flash of pain in the other man’s eyes, Kynon knew he stepped
wrong. “My apologies. When did she cross?”
“Ten years past.” Torin turned away. “If you are determined to confront Doshan, I wish you
luck. Do please excuse me, already am I late.”
Kynon followed, not ready to cease speaking with his treasure. “Does he then yell when you
are late?”
“He docks my day’s wage by half.”
“If he does so this day, then gladly will I make amends and give you the other half.”
“Why would I desire your ill-gotten gains?” Though the money he pilfered from the ryn
Ferths could only hold the same title, but at least it was by his own hand.
“Not all my funds are ill-gotten. And I see that you are informed of my life since leaving the
manor.”
“I am, as is Doshan—‘tis why I offered warning. Now please, I must go about my day; ‘tis
my last.” Torin hurried on away from the other man, uncertain he cared for the information he
was receiving about him. He cared very little that Kynon preferred men, long had he known, it
was that it was affecting him, causing his own prick to tingle with interest and he liked women…
Though Torin had to admit that since his wife’s death he had not preferred anyone, man or
woman.
Kynon watched his treasure escape thinking that he would have time enough to take him
later and so kept himself from giving chase right then. Besides, there was too much to do before
indulging in his heart’s desire.
“Never have I seen ye act in such a way, lad.” Rune stood leaning against one of the stone
pillars of the entry gate. “Is he treasure?”
“I see not why it matters.”
“Treasure always matters to a pirate.”
“Go away. I need ye not with me to offer threats.”
“If ye think that threats will stop Doshan, then a fool ye are. ‘Tis a blade in the heart that
will cease his activities.”
Kynon swallowed the bile rising in his throat, hating that after seventeen years a room could
still affect him and worse the smell of said room. But then after seventeen years, the memories of
Perta’s cruelty still lingered within the back of his mind, always waiting for a moment of
weakness to emerge and torment him. He had a feeling that the butler was well aware of all that
had gone on and so placed him within this very parlor on purpose. That or it was Doshan’s
doing, and he would not put it beyond him.
Thinking about what a bastard Doshan was, he held very little doubt.
There were times he struggled not to take his pain out upon others, upon his twin, and knew
that he failed. His own mother might have been proud to be ryn Ferth, but for him, each day, he
wished he held not such a connection. Even now holding the name of Gin Py was not enough, he
wanted to be someone completely different, hold a name totally unrecognizable to his mother’s
clan.
Mayhap he would finally ask Red if he might become a Boots. Mayhap he could be Croc
Boots. He thought it had a fine ring to it. Or mayhap Stomp Boots. Both strong names and
nowhere near similar to, or as ridiculous as, Ginger Py.
His hands flexed and he thought it a good thing he had taken his hat off—it was sitting upon
one of the chairs with his coat, having refused to allow the butler to take them. He did not trust
that old dog.
“I recall not offering you an invite to return here, Kynon.” Doshan entered the room wearing
a short, black silk robe embroidered with golden jungle cats over his shirt and breeches,
attempting to appear sophisticated. His blond hair was trimmed short on the sides and back, the
top styled in a wind blown mess.
Feeling his resolve return, Kynon smirked. “I recall not needing an invitation. A ryn Ferth I
am and this is the ryn Ferth estate.”
“Of which I am the owner.”
“A belief many dispute, but ‘tis not the reason for my visit.” Kynon watched Doshan pour
himself a goblet of wine and wished to smash the bottle upon his head.
“Oh? And what would be this reason, other than to either beg for money or to steal it. Aware
I am of your choice of occupation.”
“You know naught of my choices, but as for my visit…” Tired of the game, he grabbed
Doshan, his fists twisted in the fine material of the robe, and drove him against the wall, allowing
him to meet the pirate. “Cease ye will yer attempts upon me and my twin’s lives or ‘twill be my
dagger buried deep within yer gut and yer innards dangling from the rafters of this very manor.”
Doshan snorted. “Were you capable of such a thing, ‘twould have been done before now.
Give me a reason to spare your miserable lives and I might consider it. Mayhap the knowledge of
the ryn Ferth Flare?”
“I know not of which ye speak.”
“Then you love your brother so little?”
Again he smirked. “Then ye freely admit to attempted murder?”
“Never would you be able to prove if I did or not. Now, do you show me the Flare or do we
continue our game?”
“And what if I destroyed every one of the ryn Ferth vessels, burning them to ashes drifting
upon the tide?”
“Again, were you capable…”
“Master ryn Ferth…” Torin entered the parlor, ledger in hand, but stopped seeing Kynon
holding the other man against the wall. “Do excuse me, the door was open.”
Doshan turned his head and glared. “You fat fool of a bastard, did I call you from the
office?”
“I…” Torin knew there would be no answer that would sooth Doshan and so shook his head
and backed out of the room, holding the knowledge close to his heart that soon Doshan would
suffer. Doshan liked his comforts and he cherished knowing that the bastard would know not
what to do without the debloos to purchase it.
“What is that look upon your face, cousin? Does it upset you that your childhood desire is
mine to order about, mine to fuck if I please? Oh I know well of the kiss you gave him, the way
you looked at him, how jealous you were of the time he spent with your stupid brother.”
Kynon released the older man and stepped back, his face blank and once more under control.
“Know I do that never would you fuck him for your tastes run not to men, but to young girls. Is
that not why Auntie Perta allowed no female cousins to stay in the manor? Or mayhap ‘twas her
desire not to share you…”
Doshan rushed and Kynon ducked, slamming his shoulder into Doshan’s gut, flipping him
off his feet and onto his back. “My final warning, cousin. Cease your attempts to murder me and
my brother or mayhap I will begin to believe that I am the true heir of the ryn Ferths and will
take the proper actions to gain all that you hold dear.”
“Bastard!” Doshan writhed upon the floor, his face filled with hatred and pain. “Aware I am
of all your secrets and gladly will I tell your brother all. ‘Twas he you never wished to discover
your weaknesses, the way you used him so my mother would pay attention to you, the lies…”
He fell upon his cousin, fists flying, pummeling, determined to rip him apart. Kynon felt no
pain as they fought, never felt the break in his nose, or the split in his cheek, for he gave back
double and worse as the red haze of temper refused to abate. A primal scream burst from his lips
when he was lifted off Doshan, but was unable to fight off the one holding him, unable to return
to destroying his enemy.
Doshan started to push up off the ground, wanting to finish the fight, until he saw just who
was holding Kynon. His face paled. “What do you do here?”
Rune’s teeth flashed, but never could it be considered a smile, not when his eyes reflected
all he desired to do to Doshan and none of it of benefit to the other man. He spoke in a High
Commons’ Lyndian brogue, “Keeping my nephew safe. Come near either he or Ellis again and
‘twill be me you deal with. Think not that I lie. I have only ever held back for never could I find
the full proof of your hand in Eltin’s death, but know that I know, that I have heard all that you
said this day. My House always keeps its word, ‘tis just our way, so give me a reason to seek you
out and unman you, and I will do so immediately.”
“You would not dare.”
“Recall the last time you said those words to me. That scarf you wear does little to hide that
fine scar across your neck.”
* * *
Rune teleported out of the manor still holding Gin, annoyed that he had to rescue the puppy.
He let him go then ducked, anticipating the angry swing, and was not wrong in his assumption.
He leaned back dodging a second and third swing. He knew Gin to have a volatile temper, but
then most ryn Ferths did, and so allowed him the moment of release.
After the fourth or fifth duck, he sighed. “Are ye through, lad, or do we continue this for the
rest of the day?”
“Nae right did ye have to interfere!”
“If ye wished to kill him, easier ways there are than with yer bare hands—ways that are a lot
less messy.”
Gin ceased throwing his fists at the other man, knowing he gained no ground, though his
temper was no less alive—his nostrils flared with his harsh breaths, his chest rising and falling in
rapid succession. He wanted to go back and continue pummeling Doshan. That he dared say…
Fuck!
He turned away. “How much did ye hear?”
“Excuse me?” Rune crossed his arms over his chest, cocked his head to the side.
“How much did ye hear before ye decided to step in?”
“I heard naught. I saw ye fall upon him and when it ended not quickly, I stopped yer fight.”
“Ye spoke of hearing all that Doshan said, that…” Gin turned his head, looked at his uncle
from the corner of his left eye.
“What was said ‘twixt ye two was not heard by me.”
“Lie not to me! Ye…”
Rune moved in front of the other man and, after placing a hand upon either side of Gin’s
face, proceeded to snap the broken nose back into place, healing magik surging through his
hands as he did so. He dragged his thumb over the split in Gin’s cheek, surging more healing
magik. “What brought about the fight found nae hold in my memory. All that concerned me was
yer safety and ‘tis that I saw to. As for yer secret, it remains yer own, though is it a secret he can
offer blackmail over?”
“That I hold a secret over him, never would he dare. And did he try, I would not be stopped
until he was in pieces before me.”
“Very well. Then what is yer next plan since speaking to him did naught for the situation?”
“I… I threatened to destroy all the ryn Ferth vessels.” Finally feeling the cold, he summoned
his coat and hat from where he left them in the ryn Ferth parlor.
“Then let us do so and do so with haste. He may or not have believed ye.” Rune slapped Gin
on the back, offering comfort and camaraderie in the same gesture. It was unfair all that had
happened to the brothers and worse, neither fully knowing what the other had been through.
* * *
“You called for me, Master ryn Ferth?” Torin looked at Doshan, kept the hatred from his
gaze. He thought he had learned well the craft of such deception. But then for all Torin knew,
Doshan held little care for how he felt about him.
“Go to the ryn Ferth quay and make certain that bastard attempts not to destroy my boats.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me!” Doshan offered an icy stare, contempt in his eyes. He had always hated
Torin, believing he had stolen the woman he thought to marry. He had never understood what
Alara saw in Torin when she could have had him. He could have given her all she desired, would
have matched her status, offered her a wealthy life, but instead she chose the fat bastard and a
pedestrian life. “Go and if one vessel is harmed ‘twill be upon your head.”
Torin knew not why he was doing as Doshan demanded. He should have told him he quit
right then and walked out, but he figured he did not need to return to the manor after this errand.
He had his case with all the pertinent paperwork stored inside and that was all that mattered.
After a quick glance, holding no thought of telling Doshan whether Kynon destroyed the boats or
not—in fact, were Kynon actually burning the boats he might stay and watch—he would return
home, grab his belongings and then find The Argyn Ot.
With his coat buttoned against the sea breeze, he rushed along the harbor to the ryn Ferth
warehouse hoping he would find fire. Seeing black smoke billowing from Doshan’s favorite
boat, Cocoa Flare—well second favorite since his latest acquisition, Tropic Swirl—he quickened
his step, excitement brewing, wanting to see the flames, to watch it become nothing but cinders.
Seeing the fire, he stopped and took in the view, a wide, laughing grin gracing his face.
“’Tis a lovely sight, aye?” Rune stood behind the one he believed to be Gin’s treasure. It had
surprised him when rumor had it that Gin was interested in the barkeep of The Mixy Wiggle,
especially when Gin had always preferred men with more substance physically; the barkeep
might be pretty, but he was quite slim. This one though, this one was exactly Gin’s type with his
full soft body.
Torin spun around and took a hasty step back from the pirate, his case clutched to his chest.
“I…”
“All is well. That is, unless ye mean to inform Doshan of what we do, then I must stop ye.”
“No plans did I or do I hold for such an activity. ‘Tis a lovely sight indeed, and one I was
enjoying immensely.”
“Then a hatred ye hold for Doshan?”
He could only nod, uncertain what to make of the look in the pirate’s eyes.
“Rune, a few boats remain in the harbor, time have we to set them ablaze?” Gin yelled.
“Aye, lad. Though mayhap we ought to take as much of the chocolate as we can before we
destroy the warehouse. A pretty debloo ‘twould bring us, even if it makes ye sick to look at, let
alone smell it. Know ye Capt’n Boots would skin us were we not to bring him some.”
“Aye, ‘tis so. Then start lifting the chocolate while I finish firing the boats.” Despite the fine
vengeance this visited upon Doshan, he had to admit it pained him to destroy the vessels. Were
he in a better position, he would sell them off to the highest bidder; they were fine boat.
“’Tis done.” Rune grinned at Torin. “Excuse me, lad, much pirating is there left to do.”
Torin watched the other man teleport away before continuing to watch the flaming boats.
Seeing Kynon…no, ‘twas the pirate before him, even he could see that. What was the name Ellis
claimed his brother went by now? Gin? Yes, ‘twas Gin before him.
Watching Gin approaching Tropic Swirl he started rushing along the dock. He held no
notion why he was about to do what he was doing, but it seemed such a waste to fire the boat;
she was one of the fastest upon the sea…at least according to Doshan. It had been bought upon
credit and Doshan had no way of paying the previous owner what was owed—‘twas said the
previous owner was not the sort one wanted to break faith with.
“Wait…!” He started coughing on the smoke, but kept running. “Wait!”
Gin looked back at the voice and went still seeing the running Torin. He took a step towards
him, thoughts of wrapping his arms about him and taking that kiss he had wanted earlier. Though
he did wonder what Torin was doing there, what he was doing period. “Think not to stop me,
love.”
“No…” More coughing. “Burn her not! Fast she is and Doshan’s…” Torin bent forward
trying to catch his breath. Since his wife’s death he had put on several stone in weight, taking
refuge, instead of enjoyment, in his meals to dull the pain. Yes, always had he carried extra
weight, but now he carried more and it sapped his strength along with the smoke. “She is
Doshan’s newest and most favorite toy, you should make her your own, unless already you have
a boat.”
“I like the way yer mind works, love. ‘Tis the way a pirate would think.” With that, Gin took
the long desired second kiss, jerking Torin against him, groaning at the feel of the soft body
pressing into his own. Lifting his head, knowing he was running out of time, he offered a pirate’s
grin. “Aye, indeed I like how yer mind works.”
“What?”
Using a stun spell, he caught and hefted the slumped Torin over his shoulder, picked up the
case his treasure had been carrying. Finding Rune coming out of the warehouse, he yelled,
“Master Stone, I take Tropic Swirl as my own; if any crates of chocolate remain, load them upon
her. After that, we make sail.”
Rune laughed, pleased with his nephew’s decision. “Aye, Capt’n, consider it done.”
* * *
Gin stood over Torin, watching him as he slept. He brushed a hand over the man’s be-coated
stomach wanting desperately to undress him, to touch his rounded body, but resisted knowing he
had to get the boat underway. With only he and Rune to sail Tropic Swirl he had no time to fool
about with his treasure. Magik aided them while it was only two of them capable of sailing, but
during this time of escape, there could be no rest.
His brows snapped together.
What sort of name was Tropic Swirl for a boat? He needed to find a new name for her at
some point. Something daunting. No, something elegant. With a shake of his head, he pushed
that to the back of his mind, deciding he would see how she handled before giving her a proper
name.
Hearing Rune running along the deck, he knew he needed to join him. Touching Torin
again, tracing a finger over his relaxed hand, the soft pad of his wide pink palm, he reassured
himself that there would be plenty of time for them to become further acquainted.
“Aye, much further acquainted, love.” Gin turned away and left the cabin.
* * *
Torin closed his hand on the odd tingling sensation the pirate’s touch caused him, though he
knew not if it was to cease it or to capture it. With a groan, he finished emerging from the stun
spell, blinking his eyes open only to promptly shut them as his eyesight moved in and out of
focus. What in The Firebreath had happened? He had thought to deal Doshan one last blow, to
suggest that Kynon…no, Gin take the boat… That smile upon Kynon’s…Gin’s face had not
been a civilized smile, but one very reminiscent of…
Feeling the motion of the boat beneath him, he jerked upright, only to fall back as the room
spun.
“Fuck.”
Had the pirate kidnapped him? Surely he…
The boat rolled again and he heard voices shouting. Orders and response. Feet slammed
against the deck in a running cadence.
Sitting up again, though this time much slower, he maneuvered off the bed to see exactly
what was about. If they were sailing, he needed to escape; hopefully they were not far from
shore.
Finding his case, gripping it tightly in his hand, he walked to the door with cautious steps.
Easing it open, asking Yeryl and Zasara for it not to squeak, he studied the expanse before him;
the scent of the clean sea air filled his nostrils and the breeze rushed over heated skin—were it
not for the kidnapping he would be enjoying himself, always having loved the sea. Upon first
and second glances there was no one he could see about, so slipped from the room and
maneuvered to the railing. Or tried to move to the railing, but only made it about halfway before
a hand came down upon his shoulder. He jumped around, jerking away from whoever it was
behind him. He felt no relief seeing the pirate from before.
“Capt’n, it appears yer treasure seeks escape, what do ye have me do?” Rune grinned at
Gin’s captive.
“Secure him, Master Stone, until we arrive in open waters.”
“No! In need I am…” Torin did his best to avoid the other man, but the pirate was too quick
and much more fit. “Let go!”
“Sorry, lad, Capt’n’s orders.” Having already been heading down to the hold, Rune tapped a
finger on Torin’s forehead, bespelling him to follow, and brought the captain’s treasure below
deck, storing him securely in one of the hold cages.
* * *
As the sun was cresting the horizon the following morning, Gin handed the wheel to Rune,
seeking out his treasure foremost in his mind. After taking Tropic Swirl from the ryn Ferth quay,
he had sailed to where Golden Boots was docked, wanting to inform him that he need not wait
for him. Despite the pride Boots felt for him over the capture of his own boat, Gin could tell, that
underneath, his former captain was saddened by the departure. He hated that it warmed him to
know such a thing, but then knowing Boots was upset meant that Boots cared.
Shaking he head, he started down the stairs leading from the quarterdeck, his heart racing
knowing he was going to see Torin again.
“Capt’n… Placed him I did in the hold. ‘Twas easiest and knew I did he would not escape
it.”
Gin stopped and gazed back at his uncle. “Ye could not have locked him in the capt’n’s
quarters?”
“Aye, I could have, but then access he would have had to weapons to harm ye with. Besides
already was I on my way to the hold and so ‘twas easiest to bring him along. I do apologize, I
meant nae disrespect for yer treasure, but only did I wish to secure him well for ye.”
“Very well.” Though he disliked the idea of Torin stuck in the hold. “In need we are of
crew… Nae time did we have to search upon Lynda’s docks.”
“Nor did we have much time to stock the boat proper for the journey home. That we head
north, we can tie up in any port off Mythek or even Elaquin.”
“Mayhap we might also find crew while we acquire provisions.”
“Aye. Now go, free yer treasure, and again my apologies; I hope his mood is not too foul.”
* * *
Gin stared at the angry, disheveled man in the hold cage. After all these years, Torin still
held a fascination for him. Even with the indignation in his yiska eyes, the high color in his full
cheeks, he found him desirable. The pinch of his lips brought about a sharp want to kiss him
again.
“What sort of man have you become, that you would kidnap me and have me placed within
the hold of a boat with naught but a chamber pot and rats for company?” Torin crossed his arms
over his chest as he stood with as much pride as he could muster after the restless night.
Besides the rats keeping him up, worry over the activities left behind kept his mind full. Had
Doshan searched him out at his townhouse to learn of what went on at the docks, especially after
he never returned? Had Doshan discovered that the dwelling was mostly vacant with belongings
packed and ready for transport? If he had…
“My apologies, love.” Gin opened the hold cage and entered the tiny space, pleased when
his treasure stayed his ground. “Never did I mean to cause ye discomfort.” He touched a fallen
curl of hair resting upon Torin’s forehead, then brushed the back of his fingers over a stubbly
cheek. “I had expected Master Stone to return ye to my cabin, not place ye below deck.”
Torin narrowed his eyes. “What do you want with me? I am no more than…”
“A fine treasure do ye make for many reasons.” He thought he could listen to Torin’s
Lyndian brogue for hours, years, forever, and never grow tired of it, despite having grown to hate
the rolling R’s and dipping U’s as much as he hated chocolate, but then he had always been
contrary. He motioned to the leather case in the corner of the hold cage. “It contains financial
papers for the ryn Ferth empire, aye?”
“Yes. So you took me because I hold the knowledge of their accounts and ledgers?”
“Aye. Since rumors abound that all that is ryn Ferth is truly mine, ‘twould seem most
prudent to take the one most familiar with it.”
“And the other reasons?” Torin continued to hold his ground, refusing to fear this man
before him despite the lack of civility in his eyes. He knew that Kynon…Gin would never hurt
him, it was easy to see by the look in his eyes, but his knowledge came by other means. Actually
he was uncertain why he asked, other than to make Kynon…Gin confirm his Reading.
Gin stepped up to the other man, palmed his cheeks, and kissed him. He liked that Torin was
ever so slightly shorter than he, liking tilting Torin’s face up, even if it was just by half an inch.
Lifting his head, he rubbed his thumbs over the other man’s lips, and smiled. “In need ye are
of cleaning yer teeth, love.”
Not knowing what he felt about the kiss, he stayed angry. “Of course I am need of cleaning
my teeth, pirate, but stuck I am down in this hold and…”
“Come then, grab yer case, and we shall adjourn to my quarters so that ye may clean them,
and if ye desire, ye may bathe as well. ‘Twill not be said that I am an ungracious host.”
“And what of clothing? What of all my belongings?”
Gin brushed his fingers over Torin’s stubbly cheek once more. “All will be well.”
“Naught will be well, especially when Doshan discovers my disappearance. ‘Tis most likely
you have ruined everything!” Torin shoved past Kyn…Gin and ascended the ladder out of the
hold, his case gripped tightly in his hand. Right outside the captain’s quarters, a large hand
pulled him around. Tired of the manhandling, he jerked his arm away with thoughts of bashing
whoever it was with his case.
Seeing Ky…Gin, he offered his haughtiest expression. “What is your issue?”
“Why does it matter if Doshan discovers ye gone? Will he worry over the financial
knowledge ye hold? For if so, good, ‘tis what he deserves and worse.”
“Because he will destroy my belongings and there are things that I possess that rather would
I not see…” Torin closed his eyes and pulled in several deep breaths. “Not that you would care,
would you, the selfish bastard that you are?” Before K…Gin could answer, he whipped around
and entered the cabin, sending the door flying closed behind him with hopes of hitting the
horrible pirate. He cared not if it was undignified to do so.
Gin caught the door and softly closed it behind him, used to dealing with temper displays
such as Torin’s—Rum behaved in such a manner at times. “Why would he destroy yer
belongings? It makes nae sense to do so, just because ye disappear…”
Then again, mayhap it would be exactly like Doshan to do so; he was the vindictive sort.
Still…
“Because already were my belongings packed, ready to be shipped, and never did I tell him I
was leaving Lynda, let alone leaving his employ.”
“Where were ye going?”
“If you must know, already did I plan to seek passage from your captain, Golden Boots. A
letter I possess of introduction and explanation from Ellis so that he would allow me on board.”
“Already were ye planning to travel to Ganos…with Capt’n Boots?”
“Yes! And now ruined it you have. Ruined everything!”
“And…and…” Gin fought for words, uncertain why he needed to keep speaking, thinking to
himself that he ought to stop for this could only end badly, but continued to speak he did, “W-
which of yer belongings is irreplaceable? Certainly there is naught…”
“The portrait of my wife!”
Gin had to keep from stumbling back as if struck hard in the chest, actually having trouble
gaining a breath. Had he not known this was leading to trouble? “W-wife?”
“Yes! The artist is dead and so the painting is irreplaceable.”
“And…but…” He shook his head and tried to calm his heart. Wife? Torin was married?
“Nae!”
“What mean you, nae? Do you say I lie? The artist is dead and…” Torin clamped his lips
shut, his chest heaving with anger, with the never ceasing pain of his wife’s death…of the loss of
their baby.
“And… Ye worry for a painting, but not the… Nae!” Gin grabbed Torin’s right wrist and
felt an ounce of calm return. “Nae marriage cuff do ye wear, so…so claim not to be married.”
“I have not claimed to be married, but if I could I would, for never would I have removed
the cuff.” Though he carried it within his case, always keeping it with him. Always. “All that I
have done these past five years has been for Alara, for the child we were to have. She was all I
had, but Doshan took her and our babe from me, and because of your foolishness, all that I strove
for, all that I accomplished, will probably be for naught!” Torin lifted his free hand and swung,
wanting to strike Gin, to hurt him in some small way, but the other man leaned back allowing the
swing to pass him by, then grabbed that wrist and jerked him against him. “Release me.”
“What mean ye, he took her and… Doshan killed yer wife?”
“Yes!” Torin’s knees dipped, dangerously close to giving out, thinking of that day, of
watching her slipping from him. Tears burned in his eyes and he had to keep from breaking
down. He had allowed his anger to carry him through the last five years and suddenly the anger
was beginning to shift now that he no longer had his revenge.
“My apologies, love. Know I do the pain…”
“You know naught of this pain! You know naught of having held your dead child, of
watching your spouse lose her hold on life.”
“I…” Gin snapped his mouth shut, rethinking his words. “Correct ye are. I know naught of
losing a spouse, or a child; ‘tis not a pain anyone should know. So again, my apologies. Allow
me to see if we can return for yer belongings. Please, make yerself comfortable while I confer
with Master Stone.”
Releasing his hold on Torin, Gin backed from the cabin, locking the door behind him and
ran up to the quarterdeck, his long legs taking the stairs three at a time. “In need we are of
turning about, Master Stone.”
“Oh?” Rune pursed his lips thinking Gin must have lost his mind; they had made a fine
escape.
“We must return for Torin’s belongings. Already are they packed, only do we need gather
and store them upon the boat.”
“And why is this important?”
“Because ‘tis important to my treasure.”
“I see. ‘Tis a dangerous thing ye seek, are ye certain?”
Gin narrowed his eyes, crossed his arms over his chest, taking command of the situation.
“Aye. A pirate does all he can to make certain his treasure is happy, and I will not fail in this.”
“Very well, lad.” Rune started making the preparations to turn the boat towards Lynda,
magik brewing and shifting, spells beginning to climb the rigging to act as the lacking crew. “I
know of a place we can hide while ye aid yer treasure.”
“I leave this venture in yer hands, Master Stone.”
* * *
Torin walked over to the washstand and filled the basin with cold water, using it to splash
his face. He needed to calm down, to find his center. A bad reaction—there was not a better
answer for the way he had reacted towards Gin. The other man had no notion that he had planned
to leave Lynda, let alone that he was packed and ready to leave upon a moment’s notice. Mayhap
some of it was from the lack of sleep, but the rest had been pure panic.
He was not ready to part with certain pieces of his past.
Emptying the basin, he found the tooth polish and cleaned his teeth, ridding his mouth of the
putrid taste, hoping to rid himself of the feel of Gin’s lips upon his own. He watched himself
scrubbing away at his teeth, noticed the thick coating of golden stubble on his face and thought
he just might take the invitation to bathe, but then again, he had nothing to wear; the pirate’s
clothing would never fit him, nor anything that Master Stone owned, and he refused to put on
dirty garments.
Rinsing out his mouth, he located where he flung down his case and opened it. Seeing the
marriage cuff, he lifted it out and pressed a kiss to it, held it against his cheek. “I know that never
would you have wanted me to seek vengeance, Lara, but the man needed to suffer. Had I had the
courage, I would have slid a blade into his tiny black heart, but knew I did I would be more
successful if I took his fortune from him. ‘Tis a better revenge methinks; death would have been
too good, especially when he needs to suffer well for taking you from me.”
Gin was uncertain what to do: if he should quietly back out of the room, or fully enter. It
was a private conversation Torin was having with his wife, and yet…
Unreasonable jealousy ate at him. He had no right to think Torin would have thought of him,
let alone kept his heart free from entanglements for all these years. And yet…
And yet, Torin would still be married if he could be and never would he look at him were it
such. Not that he would have attempted to take Torin from his wife, ’twould be bad form, but…
He squeezed his eyes tightly closed, swearing at himself. He could feel the ryn Ferth blood
urging him to take what was his, that it mattered not the consequences. Truly he hated that part
of himself and so started to back out of the cabin.
“Do pirates spy as well as steal?” Torin looked over at his captor, uncertain what to think of
the dark thoughts consuming the other man.
“Nae, I…” Gin drew himself up. “’Tis my cabin and desired I did to enter, so nae spying
was taking place.”
“Then enter if you are not spying.”
“Do ye hold a weapon to throw at me? Or mayhap stab me with?”
Torin’s face filled with surprise. “The only weapon I might attempt to bash you with would
be my case for I hold no knowledge of the blade.”
“One needs not knowledge of an object to cause harm. And other weapons besides swords
and daggers there are. That weight sitting upon the desk, ‘twould make a fine weapon, especially
should one have true aim.” Gin entered and softly closed the cabin door. “But rather would I not
have to defend myself against such a thing. Rather would I have peace ‘twixt us.”
“You are the one who took me against my will and ‘tis peace you seek from me?”
“Aye. A pirate and his treasure should find a way to bond, not be at war.” Gin licked his
lower lip, wondered what object Torin held in his hands. “Ye spoke of holding a letter from my
brother. Is it a regular thing ‘twixt ye, to write to one another?”
“Only did I write after discovering a box that held objects belonging to him as a tyr Vens.
‘Twas never something Doshan should have held possession of.”
“Such as?”
“Recipe cards that belonged to your father, a tyr Vens ring and other similar objects. Plus
various papers of interest.”
Gin tried to act as if such news held little interest to him when, in fact, his heart was racing
like gulls on the wind. Was Rum once more in possession of their father’s ring? He had always
hated that Rum had stolen it from their parents’ room after they left upon their voyage to Terlyra.
Could the compass be counted among the other objects as well?
“A tyr Vens he is, should he not hold what is tyr Vens? Or rather would you have had
Doshan continue to be in custody of such things? Had there been ryn Ferth objects of interest to
you, gladly would I have done the same.” Torin finally returned the marriage cuff to his case and
closed it, then turned so he faced the other man. He kept secret the blood stained marriage cuffs
he sent to Ellis, sensing that Gin would not handle such knowledge very well. “What would you
have me call you other than pirate? Ellis said you go by Gin now, but would Kynon be
acceptable?”
“Nae. I am known as Gin so that is how ye should address me.” He inched closer to his
treasure wondering if he would be able to steal another kiss. “He told ye my name, but did my
brother not say we had become pirates? Neither of us holds a regret for the choice, nor do we feel
shame as there was naught else that two orphaned lads could do, especially when winter was
upon us.”
“Long had it been rumored that you and he had taken up such an occupation, of which he
confirmed, but I wished to hear it from you. Mentioned he did that you were nigh adopted.”
“Aye.” Gin nodded, pleased to speak of such things. “Aye, we were. Capt’n Red has always
treated us as sons and his children and grandchildren treating us as siblings. A good man he is
and Rum and I love him dearly, would do aught he asked. ‘Tis the reason we have sailed with his
son, Golden Boots, for the last five years. Times there have been where I have wished to take the
Boots name, I still do. What else did Rum say?”
“Mostly was he responding to my letter, of which I told him my plans. Concerned he was
and so wrote the introduction for me to give to his captain. He did mention his recent marriage as
to why he would not be aboard, and so I returned his letter offering congratulations to him.”
Torin held his spot, refusing to move, refusing to show any concern for his weak positioning. He
crossed his arms and waited. “His husband, a sibling he is to this Red, but you say Red has
grandchildren?”
“And great grandchildren. Red was a man well grown when Suede was born, their father
very much a chaser of women—even into his later years. ‘Twas how Dealer Boots died, in the
bed of a much, much younger woman.”
“Leaving a young Suede without a father?”
Gin stopped, his mind riveted on that thought. What had such a thing done to Suede? He
knew the anger he felt at his parents for leaving him, for leaving him to watch over his brother.
He had wanted to go on that last voyage, had yelled at them when they decided he and Rum
would stay. Was it possible that Suede held such feelings towards his own father? “Aye, aye.
Believe I do that Suede was only fifteen at the time Dealer crossed to The Everafter. I am certain
if there are issues, he and Rum have…”
“And what of you? Have you worked out your feelings of betrayal?”
“I…” Body stiffening, he stepped away from Torin, disliking where the conversation was
heading. “I know not of which ye speak.”
“Of course you do. For nigh ten years I have held such horrid feelings towards my mother.
Had she ceased working for Doshan, mayhap…” Torin shook his head. “I hold similar feelings
towards my wife for leaving me, and I love her with an endless ache. But then, such feelings
hold no comparison to the loathing I feel for myself, for had I ceased working for Doshan, or
better yet, never started, mayhap…” He closed his eyes and willed away the tears starting to
burn. “’Twould be odd were you not to feel anger towards them, or even yourself.”
“I care not for this…”
“Hiding from the truth means not such feelings cease existing; always are they there, waiting
for the time you are unguarded.” Torin felt the boat leaning again, braced his legs against the
strange angle. “What goes on?”
“We turn towards Lynda and it seems Master Stone has found the wind to take us. Ye
wished for yer belongings and so we return for them.”
Confoundment filled Torin’s face. “Truly? You…”
“Aye. I wish not for yer pain or anger. So if yer belongings will bring ye happiness, then I
will do all I am able to retrieve them.”
“Thank you.” Torin’s lips spread into a warm smile and his body relaxed its rigid stance.
“Though…”
“I know ye worry about Doshan, but we will ask for swift sails from Yeryl and Zasara, and
if we hold luck, he will think not to seek ye for another day.”
“He hated that my wife loved me. Times there were I wondered what such beauty saw in
me, but always did I know ‘twas a special gift, and each day I appreciated and lavished my own
adoration upon her—always did she know that I loved her, cherished her. Several times while we
courted, Doshan attempted to seize her attention, to take her from me; even after we married he
attempted such vile acts.”
Gin fought with himself, had to force his teeth down onto his tongue to keep from
demanding Torin cease speaking of his wife. Jealousy ate at Gin in ravenous bites knowing
Torin’s heart had belonged to…nae, still belonged to another. He wanted his treasure’s
undivided attention, but to yell at him, to insist he forget someone so special to him, he knew that
never would he gain what he desired if he spoke such awful words, nor could he respect himself
for it.
Instead, he said, “Ye will have what ye desire, love.”
In an act of pure impulsiveness, something deep within him urging him on, Torin rushed
over to Gin and kissed him hard on the lips. Feeling Gin’s shock begin to fade, his own as well,
he backed away just as quickly, putting the space of the cabin between them. “I am unable to
bathe, though I would desire it, for I have no clothing to change into.”
Gin offered a wide grin. “I would mind it not were ye wrapped only within a towel, or
wrapped in naught but the air around us.” He laughed. “A fine sight ye make in that blush.” He
moved towards him, plans to chase him about the cabin swirling within his mind. Not even the
fierce light of battle entering Torin’s eyes halted his want, in fact it increased it; the man would
make a fine partner.
“Keep your distance, pirate. A toy for you to play with I am not.” Even if it did excite him.
Yeryl and Zasara, it excited him.
“Never did I think ye a toy, but a fine treasure.” But he halted his steps. He wanted Torin to
trust him. “Fuck!” He paced a small circle while arguing with himself about the matter. “Fuck! I
am unable to conceive I do this, but if ‘tis clothing ye desire, there is plenty within the trunk at
the foot of the bed. The previous captain of this vessel appeared to be of a similar build to yerself
—please make use of whatever ye find. Though I make this concession, refuse I do to leave the
cabin.”
Torin looked at him, the words of thanks dying upon his tongue. “You offer me clothing, but
no privacy?”
“Aye.” He gave a sharp nod then walked over to the large desk and sat behind it, his arms
crossed, wearing a stubborn look upon his face, one almost petulant. “Already have I given ye
much, risking capture to return for yer belongings, I…”
“’Tis lucky then that I hold no modesty. If you mind not seeing a fat man bathe, I care not
that you watch.”
“Ye are not fat.” Gin pulled out the deck of cards he had found within the desk earlier and
started dealing out the solitary game of King’s Rook. “Ye are…rounded, soft.”
“I am well aware of what I am. Mayhap now that my revenge upon Doshan is over…”
“Ye need not lose a single ounce.” He liked Torin as he was.
“Yes, I do. Always have I held extra weight—I enjoy eating hearty meals and so make no
apologies—but since Alara’s death, I have gained more than I care to hold. Besides, ‘tis not your
decision whether I lose weight or not.” Torin walked over to the tub and, after placing the
stopper within the drain, turned on the spigots. He looked around the general vicinity and smiled
seeing a privacy screen, thinking to annoy Gin with pulling it in front of the tub—‘twould serve
him right. But would that not then disprove his claim of holding no modesty? He was already
upset with himself for blushing moments before.
“The soap is within the cabinet ‘neath the washbasin, as are the towels. Later if ye wish, I
can help ye shave; ‘tis a talent to shave upon a moving boat.”
Torin located the items Gin listed, placing them by the tub, and then started undressing,
leaving each dirty item upon the floor as he shed it. He could feel the other man’s eyes upon him
and asked Yeryl and Zasara to aid him in distracting his prick. He needed not to have it become
erect while Gin watched him; it would give the pirate too many ideas when he was still getting
used to his own odd feelings on the matter.
Stepping into the tub of steaming water, slowly submerging his body, he kept the groan of
ecstatic appreciation silent and shut off the running water. He could recall many instances where
his wife would make such a sound and it always sent him into a fit of lust, needing her at that
very moment, but then she had done it for just that purpose.
What would the pirate do were he to make such a noise?
Gin swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, certain Torin had been joking when he
declared his lack of modesty. He had actually expected him to set the privacy screen before the
tub. Of course he would have accused him of lying, but…
Yeryl and Zasara! He bit his upper lip and shifted in his chair; his cock pressing
uncomfortably in his breeches.
“Is all well?” Torin looked over, his face one of innocent inquiry.
“Aye.” His voice was rougher than usual. Gin wanted to touch him so much. He fisted his
hand against his thigh, ground his teeth together trying to keep control.
“Having trouble with your card game?”
“Nae. Why would I have trouble with King’s Rook? ‘Tis a simple game.”
“Never did I understand the rules of that one. Know I do ‘tis considered a children’s game,
but…” Torin shook his head and started rubbing the soap in his cloth, building a thick lather.
“But then, always have I preferred to play games in which two individuals are required—‘tis
much more enjoyable and…exciting.”
Gin surged to his feet, knocking his chair backwards, and strode over to the tub. Grabbing
the hand-painted privacy screen, he started jerking it into place in front of the tub, but it refused
to obey, catching on some unseen obstacle. He nearly swore when Torin looked up at him,
smiled.
“Then you dislike watching me bathe?”
“Fuck, man! Do I not hide ye from my view,” he continued to jerk on the screen, “find my
way into the tub with ye I will. I would have ye trust me before…”
It was then that Torin noticed the thick bulge in Gin’s breeches. His brows shot up, as did
the small spark of interest growing deep within him. “Truly you find me desirable?”
“Aye. Never would ye be thought of as treasure did ye not arouse me. Think ye I lied?”
“I knew not what to think of your claim, ‘tis an unusual one.”
“To be thought desirable?”
“No, no. Never did I think to be wanted so much that I would be kidnapped by a pirate and
called treasure.” He put the soap aside and started running the cloth over his arms. “If you need
to stroke yourself, then do so; no need is there to feel embarrassed—both men we are. I have
been in such a position many a time; I know the pain of unspent arousal.”
“Excuse me?”
“You are aroused, but no need is there for you to suffer. Ease your need.”
“Then step from the tub and we shall enjoy a quick tumble.”
“’Tis not what I meant. We need not fuck for you to find relief. Plenty of times have I
stroked myself to release when the need was upon me, even when married; Alara actually liked
to watch.”
“No need is there for me to do such when my treasure is at hand.” Forgetting the screen, Gin
took a step towards the tub, his tongue darting out, gliding over his lips. He could feel the throb
of his cock, could swear it was straining towards the other man as desperate for him as he was.
Responding purely to Gin’s need, Torin acted without plan. He turned his head and locked
eyes with Gin, holding him where he was with his gaze, and in a deep voice commanded, “Open
your breeches, pirate, and free your prick.”
“W-what?” Blue eyes growing wide, Gin was uncertain what his treasure was about. He
wanted him to…? His hands jerked as if to obey.
“Open your breeches and free your prick,” the same commanding voice, though this time
with a bite behind it. “I will say it not again.”
Gin grabbed the waist of his breeches and pulled the line of buttons free from their anchors,
releasing his fully aroused cock—it already dripped with anticipation. Yeryl and Zasara, he was
compelled by that gaze, that voice, to obey.
“Stroke it.”
“I…” Mind empty, he wrapped his hand around the base of his throbbing length and started
rubbing it up and down in a slow, jerky rhythm, as if unfamiliar with doing so.
“Do you like that, pirate? Do you like that I observe?”
He swallowed the lump in his throat before answering, but still it was a whisper, “A-aye.”
“Use your excitement to slick your stroke.” Torin watched the man before him, finding
himself intensely aroused from the experience. He had never thought to find such a moment so
erotic. But then even as boys, there had been something about Gin that caused…
He kept his hand from his own prick, reminding himself that this was no different than when
he had worked with Alara; his pleasure came later. “Slow strokes.”
“I want…”
“Yes, you want, but ‘tis not what I want. Slow strokes, Master Pirate; savor each sensation.
Examine the feel each time your hand climbs and descends upon the shaft, the way the pleasure
follows the movement and yet radiates throughout the body.”
“Fuck…aye…”
“Then you agree, my way is better—good. Now reach with the other hand and cup your
sac.”
A soft cry slipped from Gin’s lips when his testicles settled into his palm. Had they always
been so sensitive? He gently caressed his balls with the pad of his thumb and shuddered, gasped,
and did it again all the while stroking his cock. His eyes began to slowly close, his lashes
fluttering, but then went wide as if Torin’s gaze demanded his full attention; unable to even
contemplate ending the link.
“’Tis a fine look upon your face; it tells a story of pleasure unbound. The flush to your skin
accents it. Do tell me, would you enjoy the feel of my tongue slowly trailing upon your chest,
circling your hardened nipples? Mayhap you would enjoy the feel of my tongue tickling your
balls.”
“Torin…” another gasp.
“Slowly, Master Pirate. Know I do you wish to feel the peak of your pleasure, but continue
to experience each stroke; ‘twill make the ending much grander.”
“’Tis too much.” Gin’s hand shook, but continued stroking.
“Mayhap, but you will endure it. And you will answer my inquiry. Would you like the feel
of my tongue…?”
“Aye!”
“Were I to take your prick within my mouth and slowly suckle, would it please you?”
Gin sobbed, the mental image of such a thing sending him spiraling ever closer to the edge
of orgasm. “Aye!”
“You see it within your mind, do you not, all that I describe: My mouth accepting your
prick, the way it moves as it suckles?”
“Fuck…aye…”
“Can you feel my tongue as it draws circles upon your chest, as it draws across your sac?”
“I…” Gin’s hand started moving faster of its own volition. “I…”
“Slow strokes!” it was snapped with authority. “You will not come until I decree it.”
“Please…” His hand obeyed in the same fashion it disobeyed, without his control. “Please, I
would come.”
“When I am ready for you to. I wish you to wring every ounce of pleasure from this as
possible. Do you answer, can you feel my tongue?”
“Aye! I feel it…I feel all of it.” Panting cries slipped free of his throat as his hand continued
its deliberate movement up and down his swollen shaft. “Your mouth…your tongue upon me.
‘Tis…”
“Good. Would you like me to fuck you? To feel my hard prick thrusting within you, my
hands gripping your hips as I drive deep, pressing against the pleasure knot each time I do so.”
Gin’s body jerked as he came, cum jetting from his prick while his hand continued pumping.
Sobs of pleasure reached a crescendo as orgasm took over completely, pleasure bursting
throughout his body. So, so good. He had never…
His mind slipped away, anything resembling thought disappearing as the ecstasy consumed
him.
Torin watched as the other man experienced his climax, settle into glowmood, and was
certain it was one of the sexiest moments he had ever witnessed. Looking away, the scene
becoming too much to bear, he found that a dab of Gin’s seed had landed upon his arm. He was
tempted to taste it, but was uncertain as to why when such a thought had never occurred to him
before. Then again, never had he imagined he would share an intimate experience such as this
with someone like Gin. He had had plenty with his wife, loved each one, but then she had always
enjoyed being dominated sexually.
He kept his groan of aroused frustration silent, as his own prick demanded attention under
the water. He continued watching Gin experience his glowmood. The pirate had been too tightly
wound to go for any length and he had to admit surprise Gin lasted as long as he had. He could
only wonder if next time the pirate’s endurance would increase.
A soft gasp escaped his lips.
Next time? Why would he think…? The man had kidnapped him.
Body trembling, Gin’s vision slowly began to focus as the glowmood faded, the room
coming into sharp relief, Torin…
His mouth worked but no sound came out, uncertain if he was embarrassed or the
reemergence of arousal was heating his body and face. Torin had commanded he pleasure
himself and he had done so with little compulsion…nae, he had done so with great willingness.
He had wanted to obey.
He removed his hands from his prick and balls and began to button himself back into his
breeches, but his hands and prick were sticky with his seed. Now looking anywhere but at the
other man, he located the washbasin and moved over to it with clumsy steps. He washed his
hands, then took a cloth and washed his genitals, his movements becoming more frantic with
each ticking of the brass timetell on the desk.
Finished cleaning, pleased Torin said nothing to him, he finally buttoned himself back into
his breeches and rushed from the cabin, not stopping until he was at the bow railing sucking in
deep breaths.
How…?
Fuck! Never had he experienced such a…a…
He hardly ever touched himself, finding no true pleasure in it…afraid that someone might
walk in and think him dirty. Had not Perta done so? Had she not taken great pleasure in…
He pulled in several more breaths trying to calm down, forcing the past away.
It had been amazing: the sensations, the pleasure. When Torin started speaking of sucking
him…fucking him, Yeryl and Zasara, it was as if it were actually happening. Had he gone into
lusher detail with his words…
His body swayed at the thought.
“Capt’n, is all well?” Rune called from the quarterdeck, a little surprised to see Gin away
from the cabin so soon.
“Aye,” a whisper. Clearing his throat, steeling himself, he turned around, and spoke again,
this time voice loud and clear, a hand raised in greeting. “Aye, Master Stone. All is well. My
treasure is quite tempting and in need I was of fresh air.”
And Torin was tempting. He wanted, much to his…shame, embarrassment, surprise, to
return to the cabin and experience it all again.
* * *
Torin’s teeth clenched and his body arched as he came, his hand moving swiftly over his
prick, seed erupting. So good. Tears began to run down his cheeks as the pleasure seemed to
continue on and on.
How long? How long had it been since he felt such intense pleasure? Yes, he had used his
hand to ease an aching need since his wife’s death, but this was reminiscent of when she would
watch or took him into her own hand.
With the glowmood settling over him, he allowed his mind to wander while he lay content,
his hand now lightly messaging his softening prick. Alara had once spoken of wanting to see him
with another man; kissing, touching. He had found her description hot, enjoyed envisioning the
nameless man sucking upon his prick, but when afterwards she asked if they might truly try such
a thing…
It had been the one thing he refused to give her. In his eyes, despite her want, it had felt like
a betrayal.
“What am I doing, Lara?” he murmured, his eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. “I… I am
suddenly so lost. I wish to do this again, mayhap make some of my words a reality, and yet…”
A few more tears slipped and fell. “Never had I wanted another—not while you lived, not
before, not since. But it feels like a lie to say so. Always has there been this thing with Kynon…
Gin. The day he kissed me by the pond when I stayed that one summer with the ryn Ferths, I
felt…something; a tingle, a want. Always has it been thus with him. And yet I wish not to feel
this way, I wish not to lose the memories of our time together.”
He could swear he felt gentle hands upon his cheeks, the brush of a breath caressing his face
as if someone stood above his head looking down at him from behind. His wife used to do that
when he bathed.
“You were everything to me, and all that I have done these past five years was for you.” A
sobbing breath burst from his lips, but he quickly sucked it back in; it was not a new
conversation. “I know, ‘tis not what you would have wished, but… ‘Tis done and there is naught
I would do to reverse it; he deserves it all. That is not what worries me, frightens me. I want
Gin…that is what frightens me. So many issues do I sense within him, complicated issues, and
yet, would I want him otherwise?
“Lara…” Mayhap it was his imagination, but he felt lips upon his forehead and a sensation
of peace enveloping him. Were she there, he knew she would be approving, but then were she
approving, he would bet a handful of debloos that, despite her spiritual form, she would be
watching. “Mayhap you will finally gain your wish.”
“Wh-who gains a wish?” Gin entered the cabin doing his best to act as if nothing had
transpired. He carried a tray of food, which he placed upon the round table sitting in the middle
of the cabin; he left the food covered. He peeked at Torin with a sideways glance, trying not to
feel the heat filling his face. Though was it from embarrassment or arousal? He still did not know
the answer.
“My wife’s spirit.” Sitting up, Torin eyed the other man, pleased by the pink coloring his
cheeks. Picking up the forgotten cloth, he continued washing. “Did you grunt?”
“I… Why would I grunt?” But he knew he had, disliking Torin speaking of his wife so. But
what possible wish could she have been granted? He spoke before Torin could answer, “And so
what is this wish?”
“That is betwixt my wife and I.” But he smiled. “What do you have upon the tray?”
“A meal I brought ye. At least something that could pass for a meal; the stores are low in the
galley, but I thought ye might desire food.”
“I am hungry, but I would not wish to deplete what little you might have.”
“Worry not, we shall be fully stocked after we make port.”
“But… You had planned to gather what is needed for the journey to Ganos other than in
Lynda.”
“Aye, we had, but plans change and Master Stone thinks well upon his feet. That he too is
from Lynda, certain I am he knows where he can gather what we need with little fanfare while I
gather your belongings. Now please, come eat.”
“Still you desire a peek of me naked? Once was not enough?”
More heat suffused Gin’s face and his breath caught at the thought of seeing Torin naked
once more. He looked at him almost shyly. “Claimed ye as treasure I have, why would I not
desire to see ye in the state of being undressed more than once.” And dripping wet.
“That you find me attractive is a mystery to me.” He held up a hand to cease Gin from
answering. “That is not to say I think I am an unattractive man, but what I mean is: the weight I
am at now is not very flattering.”
“And I have said I think ye not fat. If it needs further clarification: always have I liked men
of a more robust nature, and so the weight you are now is an attractant, not a detractant.”
With a slight shrug of his shoulders, believing each to his own, Torin wrung the cloth of its
excess water before tossing it over the spigot. Standing, pulling the plug from the drain as he did
so, he reached for a towel to dry off with. There was a definite thrill in offering Gin such
titillation, so his cock was not as limp as it should have been in such a situation—which he
ignored and dried off as if nothing was amiss.
Recalling that the clothing he need borrow was in the trunk at the foot of the bed, he
wrapped the towel about his waist, or tried to but discovered it was too small to reach, so instead
tossed it over the washbasin, and stepped from the tub completely bare. He walked the short
distance to the bed, the sound of the water draining through the intricate piping built into the
floors and walls of the ship following him—the used water draining clean and harmless into the
sea.
Lifting the lid of the trunk, there was indeed clothing that would fit him—despite the articles
looking well worn and comfortable, they also looked to be well made. He pulled out the pieces
he would need—breeches, shirt, jerkin, ‘neathwear and coverings for his feet—and then dropped
the lid closed and proceeded to dress.
“’Tis a shame to cover up,” Gin murmured as he watched Torin with a combination of
wistfulness and lust. He wanted to reach out and touch him, to run his hand along his hairy chest,
his back, to grip his ass within his hands. And yet…and yet after what had happened…
“Did you like it: pleasuring yourself as I looked on?” Watching Gin, he slipped the last
button into its anchor on the plain brown leather jerkin. He could easily Read that he had taken
Gin off guard, but he had also Read Gin’s lusty thoughts.
Gin swallowed audibly, his mind frantically searching for the answer to his treasure’s
question. Finally after pulling in several deep breaths, he thought he found it and was about to
answer when Torin pressed against him from behind, pressed him against the table so he was
forced to brace his hands upon the smooth wooden surface or be prone upon it, face first in the
meal he brought. He went stiff, not knowing what to do, disliking being cornered in such a
fashion and yet he was turned on, his prick hard once more.
“Did you like it?” Torin pushed further against Gin, pressing his own aroused cock against
the other man’s ass and gripping his hips with firm hands, anchoring himself. “Answer me,
pirate.”
“Aye!”
“’Tis glad I am to hear it, for I enjoyed watching you. I found it most erotic.”
“’Twas dirty…and…and I am not a pervert.”
“No, pirate, ‘twas far from dirty and never could giving oneself pleasure be perverted; you
harmed none by doing so—not me, not you, or the High Guardians. And as I stated: ‘twas most
erotic. Would you say it dirty had you watched me stroking my prick to orgasm, that I am a
pervert for liking such a notion?” It pleased him to hear Gin gasp. “Would you like to watch me
handle my prick in such a fashion?”
“I…” He could barely breathe, as his breaths came in short pants.
“Answer me.” Torin’s voice was firm, once more demanding.
“Aye!” So very much he wanted to see it, to watch Torin’s hand glide along the length of his
cock, to watch as he climaxed, his seed spilling.
“Mayhap you would like to make my earlier words a reality as well.” Torin slid his right
hand around and placed it over Gin’s prick, rubbed. “Would you like me to suck you? Or
mayhap…” He eased back a couple inches and ran his left hand along the crease of Gin’s clothed
buttocks, middle two fingers pressing inward. “Mayhap you would like to feel me pressing into
you, fucking you. Unless you think that is dirty, perverted?”
“I wish to fuck ye. My treasure…I should…”
“But who stands behind whom?”
Gin shuddered and his body clenched involuntarily with those whispered words. He could
not find the words to argue with him, but then, he was not certain he wanted to, his mind already
forming the vision of Torin pumping into him, the feel of their bodies coming together and
separating, of being connected. When Torin pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, his arms
nearly gave out, nigh sending him sprawling on the table and into the covered food.
“Liked that did you?” Another kiss.
“Tease me not.”
“I offer no teasing. ‘Tis true, never have I thought of being with a man before, but then you
are not just any man. Even that time when we were boys and you stole that kiss, ‘twas different
with you.” He squeezed one of Gin’s buttocks before moving the hand around the pirate’s hip to
meet the other over his prick. He stuck a finger between the buttons and caressed the rigid
length.
“Ye…ye… Fuck, Torin, ye thought to battle me over such intimacies as a kiss not an hour
past.”
“I did, yes, but I have since reconsidered and my mind now changed.” He kept Gin from
turning around, but knew that Gin’s effort was only half-hearted, knew that if he truly wished to
escape his hold, he could and would. That he went along with all he demanded added to the
excitement. “I think very much that I would like to fuck you. Five years has it been since last I
had sex.”
“Then only do ye want me because ye…because yer prick is starved for such attention?”
“You are the first I have wanted at all.” He started pulling open Gin’s breeches. “None,
woman or man, have held any interest for me, even the thought made me feel as if I betrayed
Alara. I feel no such qualm with you.”
When Gin’s heavy prick fell from the opened breeches, Torin took it into his hands,
surprised at how different it felt to hold another man’s length. He slowly stroked it up then down
taking in the various sensations of doing so: the heat, the steely softness.
“Torin…” Gin’s fingers curled, his nails digging into the smooth surface of the table and his
breath became choppy gasps. His hips attempted to pump, wanting to thrust his cock into those
soft hands, but he was immobile between the table and Torin. “Allow…”
“No. And you are to hold still.”
“Fuck!” His weight shifted. “I cannot…”
“Yes, you can and you will.” Torin gave the prick a gentle squeeze. “Do you think my touch
dirty?”
Only a sob passed Gin’s lips. He wanted to fight and yet...and yet he wanted to do as told,
wanted to give everything over to Torin. Mayhap if he gave up control, he could finally relax and
mayhap enjoy…like earlier.
“Is my pleasuring you a perversion? I do exactly as you did, stroking your prick,” he
reached down and palmed Gin’s testicles, “caressing your sac. I would hold to my promise and
bathe them with my tongue were you spread before me on a bed. Is this desire perv…?”
“Nae! Nae…I…”
“Then why do you consider your own touch to be so?” He rubbed his thumb over the
dripping slit, circled it over the sensitive area where head and shaft met, liking the sound of
Gin’s choked cries of pleasure. He kissed the back of his neck once more as he continued
stroking slowly, taking enjoyment in the new intimate experience.
“I…please…”
“If truly you dislike what I do, if truly you think it perverted, then tell me cease now and
promise I do to stop immediately. What say you?” He pushed against Gin once more, rubbing his
straining cock against the other man’s ass as if already fucking him. “Well, Master Pirate, yes or
no?”
“Fuck…me,” it was a whisper.
“What was that you wanted?”
“Fuck me! Yeryl…Zasara…I want yer prick within me.”
“’Tis what I thought you said.” But he continued taking his time stroking, liking very much
handling Gin’s prick. He knew that he should be touching more of Gin’s body, but right then,
‘twas his prick he wished to play with. “Have you any glide-oil?”
“Aye…” He had found some in the previous captain’s belongings, several vials full. At
least, that is what he thought it to be since it was similar to the vial Rum had once given to him.
“Also…cream…”
“The oil is what I am familiar with and so prefer it, unless you are allergic to tantaun nuts.”
Up down up down.
“Nae…”
“Good. Summon it. In need you are of being prepared for fucking, to have my fingers stretch
the way for my prick. I wonder if you will gasp or cry out when first I touch your hole with my
fingertips.”
The vials clattered on the table, rolled, clinked against the tray, the summoning of them
clumsy with Torin’s words seeping into his mind and creating physical sensations. He swore he
could feel the fingers touching him, probing.
A whispering creak exploded as if someone were opening the cabin door and Gin once more
stiffened. He tried to look over his shoulder, fearing someone had walked in on them, would see
what they were about…tell them they were dirty. His mouth started to form the words that would
end Torin’s hold on him, to tell him to cease, when those wonderful soft hands released his prick
as if his mind had been read. Instead of feeling relieved, as he knew he should, his panic shifted,
wanting those hands to return to his body, to what they had been doing.
“Wait…why…?” His words became a startled yip when Torin jerked his breeches down
around his thighs. Feeling Torin’s fingers delve between his buttocks, touch his hole, he shivered
and gasped. The other man’s weight was still somehow against him, holding him to the table and
he loved it. He attempted to push back against his soon to be lover wanting more from those
fingers; never had he imagined how they would feel.
“Did I not say to hold still?” So it was a gasp Gin offered at first touch, he liked that. Torin
reached around once more with a single hand and grasped Gin’s prick, continuing the slow
stroking as he simultaneously circled his fingers over the closed starbud. “Do you think I mean
not my words? I will cease if you cannot do as told.”
Despite the fear that Torin would stop, the threat excited him further. His arms began to
shake as his arousal continued growing, but he did his best to remain still, only allowing his head
to drop wanting to see Torin’s hand upon his shaft. Another gasp escaped at the sight of it
moving along his prick.
“Can you reach the oil? I think it time that my fingers did more than touch; ‘tis time they
penetrated you, found your pleasure knot.”
“Aye.” His hand crept forward, reaching for one of the wayward vials, not wanting to
disturb what Torin was doing, but wanting that vial with a passion as it would grant Torin further
access to his body.
Except all touch stopped when the vial was taken from his hand and once more he felt a
keen loss without Torin’s hands upon his body. Tears began to burn within seconds as if he had
been abandoned.
Torin’s body stilled, his hand in the process of closing the vial of oil. He disliked the sudden
turmoil Gin was in. Did he say something or did he just return to his seduction? Deciding that it
would be best to carry on with what he had been about, he placed the vial on the table and once
more pressed his fingers between Gin’s buttocks, reached for his prick.
“Part your legs, pirate.” He felt Gin’s heart jump, the increase in rhythm at the demand and
in turn felt his mood return to excitement instead of despair. “Wider!”
“Aye,” it was a relieved sob, though he caught it before it could fully form. His breath then
tripped as a slick finger began pushing into him. Words began to tumble out, “Never have I…”
only to stumble from a brush of Torin’s lips on his neck. “Torin…”
“’Tis easy to tell that you have allowed no man to touch you so, that only have you done the
fucking.” He pressed his finger further into him, slowly pumping. “That changes today.” Another
brush of lips against Gin’s neck, liking the scent of him there, the heated skin.
“Aye!” Gin’s voice climbed a few notes higher in surprise when Torin pressed that finger
against the pleasure knot, never having suspected such a thrilling sensation. “Please…again.”
“And again.” Though first he eased a second finger into his lover, still slowly pumping,
before doing as begged.
Torin liked the sound of Gin’s pleasured whimpers and worked diligently to produce as
many as possible as he continued making him ready. He twisted his fingers and circled them,
worked them slow and then fast all the while feeling his own arousal growing, the need to fuck
riding him.
“More, more, more,” cried Gin, for the first time in his life truly mindless in his pleasure,
unaware of all that was around him.
“You wish me within you?”
“Aye, aye, aye, aye…” it was whispered continuously, wanting to be filled, to be claimed.
Wanting to be within Gin as much as Gin wanted him there, he spelled down his breeches,
his hard cock springing forward, head dripping. He removed his fingers from Gin, found the vial
of oil and dribbled some upon his own heated flesh, quickly spreading it. Taking his prick in
hand, releasing Gin’s temporarily, he guided himself to the opening and started pushing in.
Gin pushed back against Torin wanting all of him instead of this slow claiming. “Fuck me.”
“Maiden you are, pirate…” Torin gritted his teeth, keeping control of what he was doing. He
too wished to thrust all the way inside Gin, but he refused to cause him… “Hold still!”
A sob burst from Gin’s lips. “Please…more.”
Gripping Gin’s hips with both hands, he forced the other man to remain still as he pushed
forward, doing his best to keep from wildly plunging into him. He would do this right. Not only
was Gin maiden in this and deserved a fine first experience, it was obvious that Gin’s experience
with sex, especially with intimacy, had been badly skewed.
Though it was becoming tougher and tougher for any such thoughts to fully form and hold
within Torin’s mind, he just knew he wanted this to be right for Gin.
With one last surge, he seated himself fully within his lover, groaning at the sensation, the
heat. He kissed Gin’s neck, wrapped his arms about his waist. Grasping Gin’s prick, he found
that it had become less erect while he penetrated him, and gladly started stroking it.
“Tell me when you are ready. Know I do ‘tis an uneasy feeling you experience.”
Some of the mindless need had evaporated for Gin the further Torin had pushed into him
and so now began to fear they would be caught. He had always feared it and so had not taken any
time with those he found to fuck. Had they felt this same discomfort when he penetrated them?
Had he hurt them in his need to be done with…?
He groaned softly when Torin took hold of his prick once more and started stroking him.
Tell him when he was ready? He was ready right then, wanting Torin to take him, not inquire of
his wellness. “Hurry, fuck me.”
“Certain of this? Do you get used to me…”
“Now!”
Torin waited, continued to stroke. When he was confident that Gin was ready, truly ready
and not just wishing to hurry and have it done with, he slowly pulled out and then thrust back in.
He shuddered at the sensation, the tug and push upon his prick, realizing how much he had
missed it these last five years. He did it again and with a soft grunt, placed his lips against Gin’s
neck and began to find a fine rhythm, nudging the pleasure knot with each thrust of his cock.
“Faster!”
Torin ignored the demand and continued as he had been, refusing to be rushed. He would
savor this, and he would show Gin how much pleasure he could handle, that sex was not dirty.
“Fuck, Torin!” Gin pushed back, frustrated, needing something that was to him unnamable.
He pushed back again, a harsh cry escaping his lips as pleasure unlike anything known to him,
that he had ever dreamed possible, nearly overwhelmed him. He tried to find better purchase
with the table, afraid that his legs would buckle as he was flung into uncharted waters. “Torin…
please!”
“Not yet, ‘tis too fine to rush.” But having long denied himself this, his control was waning.
Even with stroking himself to orgasm earlier, he was unable to hold off for as long as he wished
and began thrusting faster, his hips slapping hard against Gin’s ass.
Knowing he needed to bring Gin to climax before he could indulge his own need, Torin
quickened his hand upon Gin’s cock, timing his thrusting with the pumping of his hand.
“Torin!” Gin began to shake as orgasm assumed control, muscles quivering, clenching. His
cock jerked and spasmed as cum spilled. Pleasure held him in a warm, exciting embrace.
“Yes!” The feel of Gin’s inner walls milking him, the sound of his helpless cries of pleasure,
sent him careening into his own climax, ecstasy radiating from the core of his being to every
extremity.
Torin stood behind Gin, arms still tight about his lover as the warmth and glorious
nothingness of the glowmood slowly seeped away. His hand continued slowly kneading the other
man’s prick and so witnessed its quiet descent as it softened in his hand with each passing
moment. His heart…their hearts continued pounding away in their chests, but they too began
losing speed. His body involuntarily jerked as he began to slip out of Gin, hating the loss of
connection.
He kissed the back of Gin’s neck. “Are you well?”
“Aye,” it was a soft whisper. Returning to himself, he began to feel the need to move, to
quickly dress and put the experience behind him. “I… I need to…” He stilled when Torin kissed
his neck again.
“All is well, pirate. None will enter. There is only the three of us aboard this boat, yes?”
“Aye…aye.” He did his best to relax, but after years of fear and anxiety it was a tumultuous
path and in the end he failed. “Torin…”
“Very well.” He eased away from Gin, pulling completely from the other man, but held him
still, disallowing him to rush off. “There is no judgment here; not betwixt us, never betwixt us.”
“I just…”
“No judgment.” He turned Gin around and kissed him once they were facing each other, but
Gin quickly looked away. “Gin, look at me.”
“In need I am of a few moments.”
“Then what we shared truly shames you?”
“Please…” Realizing he was begging, Gin sucked in a breath and forced himself to his full
height. “I am fine. Eat and I will return…”
“Join me. We will first clean up and then we can sit for the meal.” Torin pulled his breeches
up his thighs before summoning the cloth he used to wash himself with earlier and wiped from
the table the remnants of their fucking. With that done, he moved over to the washbasin, rinsed
the cloth and then cleansed himself with soap and water.
After refastening his breeches, his shirt once more tucked in, he again rinsed the cloth before
walking over to Gin with thoughts of aiding him. When Gin moved away, he handed him the
cloth and waited.
Gin moved to the other side of the cabin, needing distance. Keeping himself turned away, he
too cleaned up from their intimacy, then took the cloth to the washbasin, rinsed it and hung it to
dry near the basket kept for dirty laundry.
Seeing that Gin was still looking anywhere but at him, was in fact moving towards the door,
Torin’s shoulders sagged; he had failed. “Gin, join me in my meal.”
“I must speak with Master Stone about our course.”
“Liar. Now sit, join me.”
The corners of Gin’s mouth pinched and the tiny lines around his eyes deepened with
temper. “I am not some child to be ordered about!”
Torin ignored the outburst and sat down. He was good at masking the flinch, having dealt
enough with Doshan’s tantrums, but he hated being yelled at. “You will know when I offer an
order.”
“Such as when you pushed me against the table, ordered me to stay still?”
“Mayhap, mayhap not. Now I dislike eating alone, so please join me.”
Gin was lost as to what had just happened and his temper flared hotter, disliking feeling
maneuvered. His hands fisted to keep from finding something to throw.
“If you feel the need to yell, then do so, but it changes not my position of disliking to eat
alone.” When Gin remained where he was, he was further saddened. “You kidnapped me, but
you hold no desire to eat with me, only fuck?”
“I am capt’n of this boat, I give the orders.”
He looked at the pirate with doleful eyes. “You are indeed captain, but does that mean you
cannot join me? Or do you continue to stand there glaring at me?”
“How can you sit there so calm, man? I… I…”
“I have long dealt with the ryn Ferths and ‘tis always best to allow the yelling and then
continue on with…”
He yelled louder, “Like them I am not! All we have is a name in common!”
“In this moment I wonder.”
“I am not like them! They…they are murderous bastards, they think naught of…of forcing
chocolate down a child’s throat, or of beating one. They…” his chest heaved as he sought the
various sins of the ryn Ferths burned within his memory, “…they chase children off into the dead
of winter with naught to their name. They hold no concern for anyone but themselves and…
They call children vile names!”
“I am well aware of all these things, and they too thought me beneath their notice, leaving
me to eat alone.” He looked down feeling his appetite begin to wane and was very tempted to
leave the table.
Feeling the slap of Torin’s words, Gin snapped from his mood. “Y-ye are not beneath me. A
fine man ye are and…” He bit his tongue hating that he had hurt his lover, that he was still
hurting him. “Fuck, I apologize for yelling. I…dislike sex and…”
“No, you are wrong. You like sex very much, but you feel dirty for such a basic need, and
‘tis a shame that you do. Sex is not dirty, messy yes, but never dirty—at least not when enjoyed
betwixt consenting adults.”
“I…”
“Do you deny enjoying what we have shared, my fucking you?” He looked up, studied Gin’s
reddening face. “I enjoyed it very much.”
Instead of answering, Gin walked over to the table and removed the coverings from the two
dishes he brought, wanting to make Torin happy again. “Ye…ye should eat. I would not have it
said I starved m-my treasure.”
Gin was afraid and that only compounded his fear; he disliked holding such feelings. That
he kept stepping wrong with Torin only made it worse, especially when all he wanted was to…
was to know him, to be with him. In many ways, he cared very little if they had sex—though he
wanted it desperately—just so long as he was no longer alone.
He sat next to Torin when he had yet to touch the food. “Please eat.”
“If you wish not to eat with me, that is fine; I hold no desire to force you…”
“I wish to eat with ye, love, truly.” When Torin continued to watch him, he forced himself to
answer the question. “Aye, I… There was much pleasure and I… I just…”
Torin reached under the table and caressed the inside of Gin’s thigh. “All is well. Never will
I do aught you hold no true desire for.” He moved his hand higher and slowly rubbed it over
Gin’s covered prick and balls finding a definite pleasure in touching the pirate so.
Gin’s head jerked around and wide blue eyes collided with Torin’s sleepy yiska ones. He
nearly shot out of his chair when Torin smiled at him as if he were a tasty morsel. He had never
been in a situation such as this. He had always left his partners afterwards, never looking back,
and yet here he was sitting next to the man who had just fucked him well, gave him more
pleasure than he had ever experienced, a man who obviously wished for more, and…
What was he supposed to do?
He cleared his throat several times before he could speak in more than a croak. “Did ye
touch yer wife in such a manner, reach under the table and…?”
Torin’s smile grew wider. He gave Gin’s package a gentle pat before straightening in his
seat, and then reached for a plate, his appetite returned. “No, ‘twas usually Alara who dared such
boldness. A contradiction she was in her sexual tastes. Did you dislike it, or were you just
shocked by such a caress?”
“Did ye like it, her bold caress?”
“I did. Once while we were eating dinner, guests of her parents, she slipped her hand inside
my breeches and stroked me nigh to orgasm. After dinner, she pulled me into the study and
mounted me; ‘twas very intense, the pleasure we shared that eve.
Gin stopped in mid-reach of the other plate and stared at Torin. “Surely ye jest?”
“Indeed not. Times there were that my wife took charge and times there were that she
enjoyed being ordered about and dominated. I loved her too much to deny her those desires and
went about learning all I could to bring her as much satisfaction as possible. Many books have I
read on such subjects as well as spoken to those who would know.”
“Rum has a collection of books,” the words tumbled from his mouth before he could stop
them. He sat back in his chair, the plate left untouched. “I think he likes odd things.”
“What mean you: odd?”
“The pictures, odd they were.” He could feel his face turning even redder with the interest
Torin was suddenly showing for the topic. “One showed a man tied to a bed and being tickled
with a feather.”
“’Tis not that odd. And ‘tis quite enjoyable the feel of a feather teasing one’s body. What
else was in the books?”
“I…” Gin finally jumped up from the table.
“Sit!” It was a command.
“We do not have sex, so order me not about!” He took a step back instead of obeying, but it
was not easy and so took another just to be certain. “I feel not like sitting, ‘tis… ‘tis restrictive
and I dislike…”
“Gin, sit down. You act as if I jump upon you with unsavory desires.” But he thought it an
interesting confession on Gin’s part—to not order him about when they were not having sex.
Then he had enjoyed being mastered?
“Like Rum ye are, enjoying strange sex practices.”
“I begin to wonder if you protest too much.” He stood and followed Gin across the room,
pressing him against the far cabin wall when Gin cornered himself. “What is it that frightens you
about sex?”
“Ye…ye want too much.”
“I want you and before this moment, you wanted me. Or is it that you only want me upon
your terms?” Torin pressed fluttering kisses against Gin’s jaw, suckled his earlobe. “What
frightens you?”
“I am not a pervert. I…” His words abruptly ceased when Torin’s lips pressed against his
throat.
Torin was thinking he liked keeping Gin off balance. He thought that perhaps the pirate
needed his control challenged. “You are not a pervert. I am not a pervert.”
“Ye would tie me up.”
“You might like it.”
“What do ye want of me?” Gin wanted to struggle and yet could find no strength to shove
Torin away. Actually, he liked the feel of Torin’s soft body pressing against him. And he liked
that…that his choice was being made for him—Torin wanted to fuck, so they would fuck; all he
had to do was enjoy.
Like before.
“What did you want of me? You kidnapped me, called me treasure—that must mean
something. Or was this all for sport?”
“Nae! Ye are treasure—pirates…pirates keep treasure.”
“They also plunder and pillage.” Torin caressed Gin’s ass, pressed further against him. He
had thoughts of dropping to his knees and taking Gin’s prick within his mouth. It would probably
do Gin well; he was too tense. Or mayhap, he should have Gin go down before him.
“’Tis a lie! Never have I done such a thing. I remove goods, but never have I harmed
another while doing so, not in that fashion. Stop turning this about on me! I am supposed to
chase ye, not ye…”
“Is this what I do, chase you? Am I acting the pirate then?” He smiled and licked Gin’s ear.
“Methinks I like such a notion.” Another lick. “What do you think of sucking me? Or would you
prefer I suck you first?”
“I…I am not a…”
“Do you say pervert, I will offer you a spanking. Neither of us are perverts, but lusty men
who are in need of release; there is naught wrong with such a desire.” He leaned back with
thoughts of nibbling Gin’s lips, and for the first time noticed the dark circles beneath his eyes.
“Have you slept since taking the boat, pirate?”
“I…” He was uncertain he liked the sudden weightless feeling assailing him with Torin’s
abrupt end to his seduction. Was this how Rum felt when his words failed him?
“Gin, have you slept?”
“Nae, I have not.”
Torin stepped back. “Then ‘tis off to bed with you.”
“Is…is that an order?”
“’Tis a strong suggestion. Though mayhap ‘twould be best if you bathed first.” He thought
for a moment then nodded. “Yes, first a bath, then a nap.”
“What of yer meal?”
“I will eat while you bathe.”
Gin searched Torin’s face, daring to hope. “And while I sleep?”
“Mayhap I will nap with you for a time.” He could see that Gin was pleased by the notion,
relieved as well. Truth be told, he looked forward to having someone lying next to him in bed
once more.
Rune was surprised to see Torin climbing the stairs to the quarterdeck. He looked quite at
home for a stolen bit of treasure, and quite pleased with himself as well. Gin’s treasure also
looked more relaxed than before. He nodded a greeting and waited for the other man to speak
first. At least he assumed he would speak first since he looked as if he had something to say.
“Tell me of Gin.”
“Should such knowledge not come from the capt’n himself? From yer own observations?”
“Some, but I would have your take upon the matter. Much does he have in his past and as
one who knows him well…” Torin raised his brows when Rune snorted. “I know you hold much
knowledge of him, mayhap more than he is aware.”
“I know what I know and most of his issues come from the time he spent with the ryn
Ferths.”
“He is ryn Ferth.”
“Mayhap in name, but hardly could he be called similar in temperament.”
Torin nodded, agreeing. Gin was nothing like Doshan or the other ryn Ferths. Yes, Gin had
shown temper, had yelled and accused, but he had not deemed to call him names, to threaten him
with violence. He scratched his chin and realized he was still unshaven. Mayhap he would grow
a beard since Gin had charged him with acting the pirate. He grinned thinking of it.
Rune offered the other man a sideways glance. “Where is the capt’n?”
“He naps. Worry not I will rejoin him soon, but I wished to stretch my legs.”
“And that grin, admit I must it worries me.”
“Does it? Then you think ‘twould be wrong were I to be the one chasing Gin and not the
other way ‘round?”
Rune choked on a laugh, unsuccessful at containing his humor. “Do ye chase him then?”
“It appears that I do. Again, is it wrong?”
“What happened to the man who wished to escape?”
“I find no need to do so any longer. Gin takes me to Ganos, which was where I had planned
to go had he not stolen me from the docks. In fact, as I told Gin, had he not taken me, I would
have sailed out on The Argyn Ot in another day’s time.”
“Capt’n Boots carries not passengers upon his boat.”
“Mayhap so, but a letter of introduction do I possess from Ellis…Rum; ‘twas his suggestion
when I mentioned my plans to leave Lynda. As for the man who cared little for being stolen
away? I still care very little for being taken without leave, but I have a side to me that enjoys
adventure greatly and ‘tis that which I indulge now.”
“Do ye care not for the capt’n then?”
“’Tis a complicated matter. There has always been a strange spark betwixt he and I. That,
and he intrigues me, I have decided to see where it goes. If feelings develop then they develop.
Once more do I ask, is it wrong that I would chase him?”
“Nae. Methinks, in the end, it might be best were it he being chased, instead of he doing the
chasing. In need he is of feeling special, to be special to someone. Treasure.” Rune whistled
under his breath as he allowed his mind to work over the situation. “A good man he is.”
“That he returns for my cherished possessions because he desires my happiness, I must
agree.” Torin rubbed his hand over his prickly jaw, again liking the idea of growing a beard. He
had never done so before and he thought it a fine time to try it. “Though there are things that
worry me about him. I am certain you know of my family’s gift, as I am aware of yours. Are you
and I not related in some way upon my father’s side?”
“Aye. Your father was my mother’s older brother. ‘Twas quite the story told about the chase
your mother gave him.”
“My mother told me he adored me, but all I can truly remember is being tickled by his
beard.” Torin looked away, hating that he was alone, that there were these holes in his life where
family should be. “That I was four when he passed…”
“I recall him, though he did not visit often. I remember liking him, but then he would bring
me sweets other than chocolate and toy boats to sail on the little creeks near our home.”
“I have one of his toy boats; my mother told me he carved them.”
“Aye.” With a nod, Rune made up his mind. “Gin has many demons…”
* * *
Gin rushed up the stairs to the quarterdeck in search of Torin, panic brewing in the pit of his
stomach; he had disliked waking without his treasure’s body next to his. He glared seeing him
speaking with Rune, laughing with Rune, while he had worried. “Torin…”
“I see that you have risen.” Torin smiled despite the ferocious snarl upon Gin’s face. “My
apologies, pirate, I meant to return before such an event.”
“Ye should not have left. I…” He bit his tongue, not wishing to rebuke his treasure, not in
front of Rune. “What do ye do upon the quarterdeck?”
“I found I could not sleep beyond an hour and so thought I would speak with Master Stone.
He was telling me of my father.” Torin walked up to Gin and pressed a kiss to the corner of his
mouth, still smiling. He kissed the same spot when Gin’s frown deepened, and again when he
looked at Rune as if embarrassed by the display of affection.
“Yer…yer father? Why would he…”
“That he was my uncle, Capt’n, it seemed a fine thing to do; Uncle Koln…the pirate Slate
Stone, died when yer treasure was nigh a babe, but I was a boy of twelve.”
“Uncle…” Gin felt his world tilt dangerously close to upside down. If… did that mean…?
“Worry not, Capt’n, ‘tis upon my mother’s side that Torin and I are related and so is of nae
relation to ye—my mother, I suppose she would be considered yer stepgran or mayhap ‘twould
be half-gran, though I must admit some uncertainty of either title for nae longer are she and
Father married.” Seeing that Gin was still processing that last bit, he continued as if nothing was
amiss. “Yer treasure is a most interesting man. Much talent does it take to bankrupt the ryn
Ferths without suspicion being drawn and from what he says, ‘tis exactly what he has done. Have
ye looked at the papers?”
“What? Nae, not as of yet.” Gin rubbed his hands over his face, still there was too much to
take in. “Ye are cousins?”
“Aye, aye.”
“I recognized him as a syn Leth when he and I spoke upon the docks for a brief moment,
though ‘twas the first we had ever met.” Torin picked up and played with Gin’s hand knowing it
was distracting him. Though it was not a difficult thing to see with the way he kept staring at
him. Oh yes, he liked keeping Gin off balance.
“And I recognized him as eth Welex, though never had we met. That look upon yer face,
Capt’n, I know not what ye are thinking.” And he could never say he liked it.
Without a word, Gin picked up Torin and carried him down to his cabin, kicking the door
shut before releasing his treasure. He started pacing, offering a grumbling look at the other man
each time he faced him.
“Cease your jealousy, pirate.”
“’Tis not jealousy I feel.” Gin continued pacing. “’Tis not jealousy.”
“Then what bothers you so? Is it that Master Stone and I hold a familial relation?”
He spun around at the far end of the cabin and rushed back to stand in front of Torin. “Never
did ye know him? Truthfully?”
“On the docks was the first I had ever seen him. I wish I had known him all these years,
known his mother, then mayhap I would not have been so alone these last few; family I would
have had.” And he could only wonder why his mother had not sent him to stay with his father’s
sister, that one summer, or any summer.
“Only did I learn that he is uncle to me yestermorn. I…” He started pacing again. “I disliked
waking to find ye gone.”
“I meant to return before you woke, but the conversation was most riveting.”
“What did ye speak of?”
“You.”
“Me?” Gin knew not what to think of such an admission.
“As I said, ‘twas most riveting.” Torin placed himself in Gin’s path, forcing him to stop
pacing. Placing his palms upon Gin’s clean-shaven face, he brushed their lips together. “What
did you think I was about? Did you fear I would convince Master Stone to help me escape? Or
did you think Master Stone and I carried on a flirtation?”
“I know not what… My mind, ‘twas spinning too quickly to properly grab a thought.”
Seeing the look of shame in Gin’s eyes, he knew the pirate had panicked, feared that he had
somehow left him. He was quite certain that, though Gin would never admit it, he had issues
with being left. It was different if it was his choice to move on, but another if it were someone
else’s decision.
“I hold no plans to leave. Promised me you have to return for my possessions and then
transport me to Ganos, and so I feel no need to find other passage.”
“Then that is all ye desire, passage?”
“I desire sex as well.” He bit his lips together seeing the outrage on Gin’s face, trying not to
smile. Oh yes, to keep Gin off balance was a fine thing, for in need he was of learning to give
over control upon occasion.
“What mean ye?! ‘Tis…” Gin sputtered.
“Do you not desire sex with me? Methinks ‘tis too soon to declare further intentions,
especially considering we only start to know one another.”
“Treasure ye are and a pirate keeps treasure. Sex or not, never do I plan to…” His words
ceased when Torin placed several fingers over his lips.
“So certain are you that I am treasure?”
Gin nodded, a single sharp bob of his head. He wrapped his hand about Torin’s wrist and
pulled it down so his lips were free. “Planned I did to take ye when first I learned we were to
make port in Lynda. ‘Twas always my plan.”
“And had I been married still?”
Pain sliced through him at the thought and so turned away, unwilling to allow Torin to see
the anguish. “I would be a treasureless pirate.” Forever.
“You would not have taken me were I still married?” Torin placed his hand upon Gin’s
shoulder from behind, knowing he needed comfort.
“What sort of man…?” He bit his tongue. “Nae, never would I do such a thing. To attempt
to force an individual to betray a solemn promise to another, a cur belonging in The Firebreath I
would be for such an act.”
“Honor is important?”
“Always.” And yet how honorable had he been towards his own brother? He stiffened,
uncertain where such a thought had come from. He protected Rum, not harmed him. He…
Stupid Ellis.
He moved away from Torin’s touch, though he missed it immediately, and turned about. “In
need I am of relieving Master Stone from the helm so he too might gain some rest. Know I do
that ye have not slept as ye should have, and so I beg of ye to take this time to nap further.”
“Do you say you desire not my company while you man the wheel?”
“Ye spoke of not sleeping during the night and ye spoke of not sleeping while I napped,
methinks ye are in need of rest.”
“And how many hours of sleep do you function upon?”
“I have been through many a night with little to nae sleep while upon the sea. When we are
at full crew, gladly will I take the time to catch up with the missing dreams, but until then, only
are there two of us able to stand at the helm—and using magik to help sail must be done
sparingly when such spells are known to exhaust a man quickly. Sleep.”
“Very well.” Torin walked over to the bed and, after removing his boots, lay upon the bed,
hands behind his head. He watched Gin nod, satisfied with the outcome, then almost rush from
the cabin. Shaking his head sadly at the confused emotions left behind by the pirate, he then
closed his eyes and attempted to sleep.
* * *
“’Tis time to switch, Master Stone.”
Rune studied his nephew, trying to gauge his mood. “Ye return alone. Never tell me ye think
I would steal yer treasure?”
“Nae. In need he was of sleep. ‘Twas a restless night for him in the hold and so I ordered
him to rest. Now ‘tis time for ye to do the same.”
“Aye, Capt’n.” Rune happily gave over the wheel; his eyes were heavy and in need of
shutting. “Do I assume ye locked him within yer cabin?”
“I… I did, aye. He is prone to wonder and rather would I…”
“Lad, he goes naewhere and naewhere is there for him to go, especially while we are out to
sea. Besides, methinks he likes sailing.”
“Never would I dream of telling ye how to handle yer treasure.”
“Mayhap not, but ‘tis a fine way to keep him from ever trusting ye if ye offer him nae trust.
Of this I know well.” Rune turned and jogged down the stairs and climbed below deck. He did
know very well what lack of trust could do to a relationship. He had lost his treasure in just such
a way, offering her no trust, allowing jealousy and fear to come between.
Lying back upon the bed, his hands behind his head, he stared at the ceiling while waiting
for the suddenly elusive slumber to take him. But then thinking of Genna always made him
restless.
And hard.
With a frustrated grunt, he pulled open his breeches, slipped a hand inside and took his cock
in his fist, slowly stroking it. His eyes fluttered closed as pleasure enveloped him and his
thoughts centered on his woman. Even apart, she would always be his, mattering little that she
had married another. That her husband was now deceased…
“Fuck!” His body jerked as he unexpectedly came, his seed spilling.
He bolted upright, glowmood delayed as his mind raced. She was no longer married. He
could once more claim his treasure. He smiled wide. He could claim his treasure.
It was perfect. With Gin returning to Lynda to gather Torin’s belongings, he could slip away
and grab Genna.
Flopping back down, still smiling, he allowed the glowmood to settle in. No. Contentment.
He would have his treasure once more and no longer would he need to suffer his regrets.
Gin knew he should be ducking or jumping away as something crashed into the wall by his
head, but all he could do was stare at Torin who stood on the opposite side of the room, anger
coloring his rounded face.
“Why did ye throw that?” He dared not take his eyes from the other man to see what had
been thrown, but it was easy to see that the previous captain’s ugly paperweight was no longer
upon the desk.
“’Twas a weapon you said and a weapon I desired since my fists hold no power and I am
without sword.”
“Why did ye throw the weight?”
“You locked me within the cabin!” Torin grabbed the other weighty object he had taken
from the desk with thoughts of throwing it as well. “I wished to join you on deck and yet I was
stuck within this cabin. For what reason did you hold me prisoner?”
Rune warned him and he had chosen to disregard such wisdom, because he needed time. He
had known that Torin would wake and come out on deck and he feared that…
Yeryl and Zasara! He feared that Torin would wish for further intimacies, intimacies he was
unsure how to handle, and yet… And yet, confusing him further, he wanted those very same
intimacies, wanted them with an aching passion. He tried using the hours alone to figure out
what had transpired between them, how he truly felt, and still he held no answer.
He bounded across the room when Torin lifted his arm to throw the other object he had
collected and quickly disarmed him. Or that was the plan. Torin was stronger than he had
originally thought and was putting up a fight.
Torin struggled. “Release me, pirate! Deserve you do to have…”
“Cease, man!”
“No! You…” Torin continued tugging his arm, trying to free himself, wishing to continue
his attempts at harming his captor.
“How do I offer apologies if ye continue yer attempts to crack my skull?” When Torin
glared at him, he leaned in and kissed him, lips crushed together. He offered no finesse, but right
then he was desperate, wanting to distract the angry man.
Torin pulled away, though it was hard—wishing, as he was, to return the kiss. “What are
you about? Know I do you desire no further intimacy betwixt us.”
“’Tis not so.”
“You locked me within this cabin because you wished to avoid me.” That knowledge was
keeping him angry. “If you desired not to have relations with me, then you should have said…”
“Fuck, Torin!” Gin took the heavy object, an odd rock the previous captain had picked up on
some distant shore, and tossed it on the bed. “Aye, in need I was of thinking, but it means not
that I am undesirous of yer attentions, just mayhap…”
Headache bubbling to life, Torin rubbed his hands over his face, uncertain why it mattered
so much that the pirate locked him away. They hardly knew anything of each other, he was a
kidnap victim, but… Fuck, he had assumed since…and had expected…was certain… Even after
his own words, no further intentions could be asked…
He turned away and picked the rock up off the bed, returning it to the desk.
“I mentioned my lack of enjoyment in regards to sex.”
“And yet you wished to fuck me when first I bathed.”
“Aye, a quick tumble for…for the release. I…”
“What of your enjoyment of my fucking you?”
It was Gin’s turn to rub his hands over his face, feeling the heat building there. He knew not
what he was about, how to express what should be expressed and was stepping wrong for it.
Mayhap he should have studied Rum’s books instead of judging them. “Never have I…”
“I know well you were maiden, ‘tis not what I speak of.”
“I know! But ‘twas a first for me in more than just sex. Aye, ‘twas most enjoyable, but…”
The boat creaked and he jumped around thinking that someone was entering the cabin, words of
explanation and excuse for what he was about upon his lips.
And Torin finally understood. Yes, he had encountered this earlier, Gin’s worry over being
caught, but it had meant very little at the time. Now it meant everything, as did Gin’s fear of
perversion for the two fears went hand in hand. But from what did it stem? “Would Master Stone
enter this cabin without knocking? Would any member of the crew? Does it truly matter if they
did?”
Gin stiffened when Torin placed a hand at his back, especially when the boat creaked again
and he heard footsteps racing overhead, felt the magik spin, aiding Rune by allowing him to be
free of the wheel for a time. Gin now remembered why he had finally descended from the
quarterdeck; they were within a mile of their destination.
“I must go.” Relief filled him as he stepped away from Torin, not ready for this
conversation; too afraid to contemplate it. He looked over his shoulder. “Master Stone is in need
of my aid tying up the boat. In what section of town is yer home?”
“The eastern hill of the village, the last upon Farthest Lane. I will show you once the boat is
secured.”
Gin said nothing as he left the cabin.
Torin let the pirate leave without calling out and instead started to follow him when the door
shut and he knew, with rising temper, that Gin had once more locked the door.
“I am not ready for this Lara. I knew he had issues, but never did I think his demons went
this deep. Methinks I wished too much for companionship, to feel wanted and desired once more,
to heed any discretion when I first embarked upon this adventure.” Torin shook his head. “Your
approval or not, I think ‘tis best to keep from repeating the actions of this afternoon, allowing
further attachment. I will accept the transport, but once Ganos is reached, I…I will move on.”
With a deep breath, he fortified himself; he was not about to let Gin dictate his actions. He
would not allow his temper to ruin his focus; he would unlock the door this time.
* * *
With the boat secured in the little hidden alcove Rune had found, Gin teleported to the dock
instead of lowering the gangplank…and just kept from stumbling as he secured his footing. He
looked up at his uncle standing at the railing. “I will return soon. Be at the ready for our
departure.”
“That we returned to Lynda, I thought to take advantage and visit my mother.” And gather
his treasure. Rune could see the frustration on Gin’s face and added. “Some time has it been
since last we saw each other, only have we conversed through letters these past few years. Nor
do I ask you to accompany me.”
“Very well, we will depart Lynda in two hours. Are ye not returned by then, I will leave
ye…” Gin narrowed his eyes when Rune laughed. “Two hours, Master Stone, nae less.”
Nodding, grinning, Rune waved Gin off. With plans to gather the gift he bought for his
mother when first he learned that Golden Boots was sailing to Lynda, he heard the loud
frustrated cursing coming from the captain’s quarters. Realizing that Gin had once more locked
Torin within, he shook his head and walked over to release him; he doubted very much that
Torin was going to disappear.
Opening the door, he stood back and waited, making certain that a heavy object would not
be sailing through the door. “Free ye are, lad.”
Torin stepped from the cabin, anger still flashing in his eyes. “Where is the rotten pirate?”
Rune released a resigned breath seeing the other man’s determination. “Already has he gone
into the village. Judge the captain not, ‘tis his past which…”
“I need not his issues.”
“I thought ye were willing to see where this adventure took ye?”
“And I was, but I grow tired…”
“Hardly any time has passed for ye to feel such. Allow him the benefit of a week, if ye see
nae change then cease yer advance. ‘Tis easy to tell that ye are the sort who needs to settle, but
recall that yer on a pirate adventure; always is there a wild storm to ride through.”
“Why did you release me, were you not the one who first placed me behind locks?”
“Aye, and most sorry I am for it. ‘Tis obvious I set a bad precedent. As for my releasing ye?
A gut decision. Now go, aid the captain in gathering yer belongings.”
“What of you, do you stay with the boat?”
“Nae, I go to find my own treasure. I can only hope that she listens to my regrets of letting
her go, of my not trusting her all those years past.”
For some reason Torin opened his senses and Read the situation. “Allow no
miscommunication to stand when you greet her. Tell her all that is within your heart and insist
she tell you what is within hers.”
“Aye, ‘tis sound advice. Determined I am, so I will allow nae such barriers to stand. She will
be with me when I return. But, Torin, ‘tis fine advice for yerself. Allow him not to erect any
barriers but erect none yerself.”
Torin nodded and teleported to the front of his house, wondering if he would arrive before
Gin.
Rune grabbed the gift he had commissioned for his mother and teleported to the kitchen
entrance of his mother’s cottage by the sea—he was certain his mother would still be awake; she
hardly went to bed before dawn’s first light. To call it a cottage was ridiculous as the two-story
home was closer in size to a manor and was where she had been born. With most of the House of
Stone having crossed to The Everafter or scattered to the far corners of the five seas, it was now
hers and where she had come after she ended her marriage to his father over twenty years prior.
A twinge of guilt was felt for not taking the time to visit his father, but it was only a small
twinge. More often than not, Rune and his father butted heads like two mountain yullies battling
over territory. He tried hard not to argue with the old man, tried to be respectful—the man was
his father after all and he grew not younger—but there were times that no matter how hard Rune
bit his tongue, he was unable to keep his opinion to himself, he could not stop himself from
speaking up when his father…
Ethen tyr Vens was much like those large, ivory-tusked beasts roaming the plains of the
Wild Coast when in full stampede. Did one not stand up for oneself, his father would gladly
trample all those in his path, caring little for the destruction he caused. Rune had seen it time and
again with his older brothers, Aden and Relond, who desperately wished to please their father.
Of course, standing up for oneself never had a predictable outcome. Ethen had disowned Eltin—
Rum and Gin’s father—when Eltin told him he was wrong in his approach to not only running
the tyr Vens empire, but also in how the chocolate was being made.
The ensuing argument over Rune’s decision to go to sea when the old man wanted him to
make chocolate had been fierce and ugly, with Ethen coming close to physically assaulting him
when he refused to back down. It only became worse when Ethen learned Rune was not sailing
upon a tyr Vens boat, but upon Gray Stone, his maternal aunt’s, boat. The old man had hardly
spoken to him throughout the years of his fostering and beyond. That is until the day Ethen
learned Rune had found Eltin’s lost sons upon his own—and in fact sailed with them as a
crewmate—then it was to demand he bring them to him, to which he told his father no.
Rune had fully expected him to return to his former treatment of silence, but he had not been
so lucky. Since that day, he received a letter from his father at least twice a month. After the third
letter, he stopped responding to the missives and instead, after opening them—he felt the need to
do so to make certain all remained well—he promptly threw them in the trash. The latest letter
had demanded he himself return home and of course to bring the lads with him.
He had not answered that letter either.
Rune loved watching over Rum and Gin. As their uncle, he took such responsibility
seriously and it was why he had done everything he could to find them, having known within his
heart that they had survived being chased from the ryn Ferth manor in the middle of winter. They
were Eltin’s sons after all so of course the two found their way to sea and the way of the
seafarer’s life. Rune had loved and admired Eltin, worshipped Eltin, he could do nothing less
than make certain his brother’s sons grew into proper men.
He shook his head, freeing himself from thinking of the old man. He was here to visit his
mother before searching out Genna. Slipping into the manor, he silently padded his way to the
study where he believed his mother would be; she still wrote her children’s books and he knew
she was in the midst of the latest Jumping Jax adventure. Seeing her sitting behind her great
grandfather’s desk, pen furiously scratching on parchment, he maneuvered behind her and
dropped a kiss on top of her head.
He jumped back just in time to miss being stabbed by that very same pen, having been
prepared for his mother’s reaction; Jasper Stone was known for her quickness with a blade. He
had always wondered if his father had been aware of his mother’s pirate blood. He oft wondered
if his father was even aware of his own pirate blood.
“’Tis lucky I know you well, Ma, or my blood you would have spilled.” Rune grinned. In
case there were others about—the housekeeper lived on the premises and had been known to
check on his mother from time to time during the night—he spoke in the smooth, lyrical parlance
of the Lyndian High Commons.
“Tagen!” Jasper Stone, also known as Joss syn Leth while upon Lyndian soil, leapt from the
chair and threw her arms around her only son and oldest child. She used his non-pirate name
since they were upon shore.
He swung his mother around, feeling the same joy she felt. “You look as beautiful as
always; a day you have not aged.”
“And still do you lie badly.” She kissed him with noisy enthusiasm on both cheeks. Stepping
from her son’s arms, she pulled him over to the antique wing-backed chairs by the fire. “Tell me
you plan to stay for a time.”
“Only do I have a couple of hours before my boat sails. My captain is new to the post and is
testing his authority, so threatens to leave me if I am late.”
She laughed. “’Tis a common enough threat, but if you are valuable enough to him, doubt I
do he will carry through.”
“I have no doubt that he will hold anchor, but we are in need of leaving. He gathers his
treasure’s belongings, helping him escape.”
“Oh ho! Sounds most exciting. So who is this new captain?”
“’Tis Kynon. Made off we did with one of Doshan’s boats, ‘tis why we feel the need for
haste.”
Bouncing in her seat, she clapped, pleased. “’Tis the least that bastard deserves… Oh, ‘twas
you and Kynon then who caused the fire in the ryn Ferth quay?”
“Indeed we were. ‘Twas a shame to destroy so many vessels, but correct you were: ‘tis what
that bastard deserved.”
“And Ellis, is he aboard, or did he stay with your previous captain?”
“Ellis married a fine man the eve before we weighed anchor from Ganos. He spends time
with him now getting to know him as ‘twas done in the…seafarer tradition.”
Jasper nodded, understanding what her son meant. Pirate weddings were usually abrupt and
done upon first sight of treasure, so much time was needed afterwards for courting. “So where
have you hidden the boat while ashore?”
“Where else?” He grinned. “That the cove was empty, I must ask where my sister has sailed
off to? She said not what she was about in our most recent letter exchange.”
“She has sailed not far, but follows the coast of Mythek gathering various herbs and other
supplies for the sacred space. Slowly she gains a name for herself since taking control of The
Tumbler. Soon many will know the name of Azure Stone.” She just hoped it was not one like her
own. She pointed to a box at her son’s side. “What is that?”
He finally held up the gift, his grin grew. “’Tis for you.”
She grabbed the box and gently rattled it, curious what he brought her, but not so curious
that she missed him checking his timetell. “Why do I sense that you wish to be off despite these
granted few hours?”
“I…” He saw the look on her face and knew he could never lie to her. To stall for time while
he gathered his thoughts, he stood and closed the curtains, feeling as if someone watched. “’Tis
not so much I wish to cut our visit short, I wish very much to visit with you; I miss you awful.”
“But…?”
“Genna…no longer is she married. I…”
“You wish to lay claim to her once more?”
“Aye,” he whispered, the pirate slipping out.
Seeing the look of lost love on her son’s face, Jasper reached over and squeezed his hand,
her heart crying for him. “If she is who you want, if truly she is your treasure, then suggest I do
you hurry before your captain does as he threatened; you and Genna have much to speak of I am
certain.”
“You ask not if I go to see Father.”
“I have no need to ask when ‘tis plain that you are not.”
In some ways it saddened her to see the reserve between father and son, remembering how
close her own brother and father had always been. Except…except, she minded not Rune’s
separation from Ethen, for she feared Rune discovering the secrets his father held. She had kept
many of Ethen’s deeds to herself knowing the hurt they would cause her son, cause the other
members of the tyr Vens family, but one day those secrets would come to light and she could
only hope her son harbored no ill-will towards her for keeping such things from him.
“I…”
“You need not make excuses, son. I know well the type of man Ethen is; I know how he
treated you. Only can I offer my deepest apologies for having allowed it for even a moment.”
“’Tis not so much that. Never have I forgiven him for what he did to Eltin. In my heart, and
mayhap ‘tis not so, but I blame him for Eltin’s death. He may not have done the actual deed, but
had he… I know Relond wishes to believe Father regrets his actions, but I cannot. I was the one
who searched out Ellis and Kynon, ‘twas not something Father ever cared about or would have
asked of…any of us. That the bastard now claims he did, that…that he demands I bring them to
him… Never will I do so. Never.”
“I know. And you will hear no such encouragement from me.”
A thunderous banging on the front door of the cottage startled both Jasper and Rune, each
reaching for their sides, hands upon the grips of their daggers—a pirate never parted from his or
her dagger by choice. Jasper’s face darkened with temper knowing just who dared disturb them,
for only he would dare. She contemplated not answering the door, but knew well the old man
would just continue to pound on her door for the rest of the evening. When first she left him, he
would barge in, and so she set about creating a security spell he would dare not attempt to
bypass. He had tried once.
Just once.
Too bad the experience with the spell stopped not his continual disturbances. She wondered
if she should have placed a spell upon the cottage to keep him from locating it. Mayhap she
would still do so.
Jumping up from her seat, she made her way to the front door, hoping to arrive before her
housekeeper was roused from her sleep. The housekeeper already dealt with her employer’s
strange sleeping habits, she did not need to deal with strange familial problems too.
“Where is he? Know I do he is here.” Ethen shoved past Jasper and marched into the
cottage, his cane thumping heavily upon the wooden floor with each step, scuffing the polished
surface. He was wearing a thick coat to ward off the night chill and a wide-brimmed hat upon his
head.
Outrage lined her face. She thought of pulling out her dagger, mayhap placing it against his
throat, wanting him to know her temper. “Many times have I explained to you that you are
unwelcome inside this cottage and yet you continue to barge in. A reason I would have from you
why not to summon a Guard.”
He ignored her. “He is here, I saw him in your window just moments past. Dare not hide
him from me!”
She took a step towards him, the violent urge to strike him throbbing through her veins. “If
Tagen wishes not to see you, then he wishes not to see you, and no right…”
“Ma, all is well. Allow him not to upset you.” Rune stood in the doorway, steeling himself
to deal with his father.
Ethen took notice of Rune and the scowl he had been wearing deepened. “A man grown and
still you sneak about as if you were a boy bent upon mischief.”
“Good eve to you as well, Father.” Besides never having forgiven him for sending Eltin
away, this was why he hated dealing with his father. Always did he attempt to walk all over
those about him, uncaring if they were family or not.
“Years has it been since last you stepped foot upon Lyndian soil and that is all you say: good
eve? That you sneak about in the middle of the night, ‘tis obvious you held no plans to visit with
me; you arrived yestermorn according to those on the docks.”
“Leave him be!” Jasper snarled.
“I would have an explanation!”
“An explanation of what? You badger Tagen relentlessly. You refuse to see that he is a man
grown. Each time he visited you would offer him lecture instead of greeting. ‘Twould be a fine
thing if you smiled and told him you were pleased to see him, but you do not, have not, will not,
and so his visits have grown further and further apart, until years have past.”
Ethen ignored her. “How long are you in port, boy?”
“My captain wishes to leave in two hours.” Rune placed his hand on his mother’s shoulder
keeping her from giving into the urge to strike out. He oft wondered how she had remained
married to him for nigh two decades.
“All these years and still you hold a position of underling.”
“I watch over my nephews as is my want. Mayhap I will find my own boat once Kynon
settles, but then mayhap not. Now that he is captain, I hold the position of first mate.” With the
mention of one of Eltin’s sons, the old man’s face flushed red, but before he could start shouting,
Rune held up his hand hoping to forestall him. He could do this; he could deal with his father and
not yell. “They will return to Lynda and meet you when ‘tis their desire to do so. Mentioned this
I have multiple times and will continue to abide by such dictates.”
“What of Ellis, you mentioned naught of him?” Ethen took a step forward, his hazel eyes
trained upon Rune’s slate blue ones. No one would know they were related by seeing them
together, the boy was obviously from the House of syn Leth—both children from his second
marriage were of their mother’s house. He found it annoying, suspect. “Or do you say he
settled?”
“He married a fine man before we set sail and is not upon this journey.”
“And who is this supposed fine man?” Ethen’s demand was emphasized by a loud thump of
his cane, creating a dent within the wooden floor.
“Master Seth nar Zabo, the youngest brother to the man who took Ellis and Kynon in. A
handsome couple do they make.”
“A pirate you mean!” Ethen thumped his cane once more as he bellowed his outrage. “Think
me unaware!? I know well those two boys are pirates! I know well that you are pirate. ‘Tis
scandalous! ‘Tis… That you dare try to keep such knowledge from me…” Ethen glared at Jasper
and then at Rune. “I sent you to retrieve them!”
“No, you did not.” Calm, he could be calm. “I found them upon my own. Besides, after
spending much time with the nar Zabos, after seeing how happy my nephews were in their new
home, never would I have taken them from it. Told you this many a time I have.”
“Pirates! There are pirates ruining this family.” He waved his cane at his former wife. “And
you do naught about it. I told you that I would permit not…”
“Always has this family carried the blood of pirates, ye old bovie!” Rune finally lost his
temper and the pirate came out at the threat to his mother. “Always!”
“Offer me no such lies!”
“That compass Eltin treasured, the one Grandmother Bella gifted him with, belonged it did
to the infamous pirate, Mage Fyar, given to him by his lover, Sugar Cross; ‘twas through those
two men that Grandmother Bella descended. The four tyr Vens brothers yer so proud and boast
about, they too were pirates. ‘Tis why the two lads took so well to the ways of the sea. Ye…”
He took in a deep breath, his nostrils flared, teeth clenched, as he attempted to calm himself,
but it was of no use and more than he meant to say came pouring out. “’Tis yer fault that Eltin is
dead, ye may have well been the one to plunge the dagger into his heart. ‘Tis yer fault that Aden
and Relond are alone and miserable, why would I ever subject those lads to yer poison! Never,
never, never will I bring them to ye.”
“How dare you speak to me so.” Ethen moved so there were only a few inches separating he
and Rune. “You are blind where Eltin is concerned, he…”
“Nae! Ye were jealous of his abilities, jealous that he knew chocolate better than ye, that
Grandfather left him such a large share of the company, that he liked him better. Ye hated that ye
could not control him as ye did Aden and Relond, that he was his own man.”
“Tagen, remember where you are.” Jasper shoved herself between the two men and forced
them to each step back, fearing that they might set upon each other with fists.
With a great force of will, and after several pacing steps, hands fisted at his side, Rune
forced himself to speak not as a pirate, though he could do nothing about the volume of his
voice. “’Tis why I found excuses not to return home; tired I grew of arguing with him. But I
wished to see you while upon these wretched shores and so took the chance I would run not into
him.” He kissed his mother’s soft cheek. “I must go. I will write soon, ‘tis a promise. Mayhap we
can arrange to meet elsewhere, or mayhap you might come visit me. Enjoy your gift.” He looked
at Ethen. “Father…” he swallowed the vile words he wished to speak, “take care.”
“Where do you go? I am not through…”
Rune looked over his shoulder. “I go to reclaim my treasure before my captain sets sail.”
“What…?” Ethen’s words sputtered when his son teleported from the room. He looked at
Jasper. “What does he speak of, reclaiming treasure? Does he go to re-steal something? ‘Tis your
fault he turned out this way, pirating when he should be here doing respectful work. ‘Tis the
same with your daughter. I insist…”
“No. Now leave.” She turned him around and gave him a shove
“Then what does he do? Where does he go?” He resisted when she pushed him again. “I am
not leaving until I get an explanation.”
“And one is not coming. Ruined you have enough within his life and permit you to do him
any further harm I will not.”
“Harm! You have caused the harm, to both he and Ciane. Pirates they both are.” He
continued resisting and thumped his cane on the floor. He forced himself around and thumped
his cane again, nearly striking her feet. “Fucking pirates!”
“Indeed, and fine ones at that, doing their blood proud.” She stood tall before Ethen with
that very same pride shimmering from every inch of her. “Proud I am of my son and daughter,
proud I will always be of them. Mayhap you should think long, old man, and realize what you
have missed and continue to miss with your fucking irrational foolishness. ‘Tis obvious you
know not the pain you cause everyone who comes near you or that you even care that you do.”
“Joss…”
“The only good to come of our marriage are my children, the rest of our life together was
naught but a horrid waste of years.”
“’Tis a lie. You loved me. Methinks you still do, are making excuses to handle my severing
our marriage.”
“I ended the marriage, ye bastard, after I learned ye gladly fucked Perta the whole of our
marriage!” She grabbed him and teleported with him outside to his carriage. “I feel sorry for
your wife and hope she soon sees you for the vile man you are.” Then with a surge of magik sent
him, the carriage, the horses and driver back to the tyr Vens manor.
* * *
Jasper entered the cottage and found herself staring at the spot her son had been standing
before he teleported away—she stared for nigh ten minutes while deeply contemplating her life.
She missed her son, hated that he kept away so that he might avoid his father. She should have
left Lynda after she ended the marriage. She knew not where she would have gone, but she
should have gone and worried about where she would call home at a later time.
But she had stayed, not wishing to take the then eight-year-old Ciane from Ethen, believing
that he loved the girl. Except, she knew that his love for his only daughter was conditional, as it
was with all of his children and grandchildren. So long as they did as he wanted, he would offer
affection…
But of course Ethen’s will was a double-edged blade. Relond knew this well. All his life he
had done as Ethen asked wishing to gain his approval, but the more he bowed to his father, the
more Ethen demanded and the less Ethen respected him. Aden had been the same, doing what he
could to please Ethen. It was not until the day Eltin perished when he finally realized too late his
foolishness—that Eltin had spoken true about the nature of their father.
She shook her head to clear her thoughts. All was well and good to think about what one
should have done, it was another to actually do what one desired to do.
With her mind free of old emotions, she walked to the far wall of her study and released the
concealing spell and watched as an old iron-banded door appeared. Pulling it open, she
descended the single flight of stairs and released a second spell hiding the entrance to the sacred
space. Opening the second door, she entered the subterranean room wishing to contact her
daughter, wanting to let her know what she was about. The time had come to embrace her
freedom, mayhap she was twenty years late, but she was going to do what she should have done
when she discovered the true nature of Ethen tyr Vens.
Knocking on the mirror, she waited patiently knowing her daughter would be up at such an
hour. Those from the House of Stone were not known for needing much sleep.
“Azure, are ye about?”
“’Tis rare ye call me such, Ma, though I cannot complain when ye do.” Ciane, otherwise
known upon the sea as Azure Stone, offered a pirate’s grin. “A bit of a vision I held only
moments past that Jasper Stone once more felt the sea air upon her face and the rolling of waves
‘neath her feet.”
“Yer abilities grow, my daughter.” Jasper returned the grin.
Azure clapped, pleased. “Splendid! So I am correct then, ye return to the sea?”
“Aye. This eve in fact. Yer brother, he is in port with yer nephew, Gin, and aim I do to be
upon that boat before she sets sail.”
“And once upon the boat?”
“I leave Lyndian shores for good and make home upon the Isle of Ganos. Do ye join me?”
“Aye. I will finish what I am about and then turn sail to the Eastern Seas.”
“Before ye do, offer yer goodbyes to yer brother, Aden. He should know what ye are about.
Ye know he loves ye so.”
“Aye, Ma, as I love him. Make certain ye do the same.”
Seeing the lights glowing inside Torin’s house, the front door wide open, Gin changed his
plan of direct approach; this was the last house on Farthest Lane. He sidled up to the window, but
the small slit between the curtains offered him the wrong angle, that is until Doshan walked past.
Temper sparking, he had to stop himself from rushing inside and thrashing the other man,
finishing the fight from the day previous.
Instead, he entered the house as if nothing was amiss, hoping to startle Doshan, but the
bastard kept going about picking things up and dropping or tossing them upon the floor as if they
held very little value. He seemed to be relishing the sound of the objects breaking.
“He is quite gone.” Doshan spoke over his shoulder, seeming bored. “Unless you know this
and have come to collect his things? Have you taken him, thoughts of forcing him to do your
bidding? Do you think to force him to help you steal from me? ‘Tis not possible, never did he
have the proper documents. Do you think me foolish enough to give him access to such
information?”
Gin ignored the question and asked one of his own, “What do ye do here?”
“I would think that was obvious. I came looking for my man of affairs and found the house
empty of his presence, most of his belongings packed, ready to move. ‘Tis most,” he picked up a
little vase still sitting on the fireplace mantle, his nose wrinkling, “disturbing, the man’s lack of
taste. He… Oh, what is this?” His attention was drawn suddenly to a painting in the process of
being crated up of a black-haired woman with ruby lips. He dropped the vase on the floor as he
walked over to the painting. “I wonder why I knew naught of such an extravagant purchase. A
bel Heth no less. Such a painting would have cost more than a year of Torin’s wages.”
Doshan stroked his hand over the woman’s cheek, unhealthy lust in his eyes.
“Remove yer hands from the painting.” Gin took a threatening step forward. “’Tis not yers
to admire, ye bastard.”
“She should have been mine.” Doshan continued running his fingers over the woman’s pale
face, his expression changing to one of rage. He raised his hand, preparing to strike the painting.
“Never did I know what she saw in that fat…”
A roar erupted from behind the two men, startling them both. Torin rushed past Gin and
tackled Doshan, tumbling away from the painting, rolling until he was on top. He raised a fist
and struck Doshan’s face and again and again until Gin pulled him off, holding him through his
struggles.
“Release me! I would kill him. That he would dare…”
Seeing a movement from the corner of his eye, Gin looked towards the still open front door.
He grinned a scoundrel’s smile and then whispered by Torin’s ear, “Nae. Better ways there are,
love. Much better ways.”
Torin struggled a moment longer, but soon stopped. “What ways?”
“Look over my shoulder and ye will understand. Methinks ‘twill be a fine vengeance.”
“What goes on here?” A Guard on night duty stood in the doorway, a hand on the hilt of his
sword. His magik swirled and searched, waiting to discover truth or lie.
“Arrest these men.” Doshan stood, straightened his coat, and wiped the blood from his
mouth. “They viciously attacked me without cause.”
“Methinks Master eth Welex was within his rights,” Gin affected the softer rolling tones of
the Lyndian High Commons. He released Torin and straightened both of their coats, brushed a
fallen bit of hair from Torin’s brow. “That you entered his home uninvited and began destroying
his property, ‘tis a most serious offence. Indeed, when you dared threaten that priceless painting
behind you, the one of his beloved wife who now sadly resides in The Everafter along with their
child, no reasonable man could blame him.”
Doshan nearly exploded with temper. “Surely, you put no credence into what this pirate is
telling you? A pirate he is! A filthy, lying pirate!”
“Who might you be?” The Guard looked at Gin, not listening to the other man’s fit. Most
folks within the village disliked Doshan.
Especially the Guards and Watchers.
Doshan had been flaunting the laws, finding ways of breaking them so that to detain him the
Guards and Watchers would be doing so without proper evidence. The Guard thought that if
there was an opportunity to place him within a holding cell for even a few hours, one with a legal
reason—considering he had caught him in a residence that did not belong to him, one he had no
welcome in—there might be a promotion in it for him, plus the satisfaction of detaining the
arrogant shit.
“Kynon, son of Eltin tyr Vens and Tarna ryn Ferth, grandson to both Old Man Bertun ryn
Ferth and Ethen tyr Vens. My brother, Ellis, and I are the outcasts of our families and so are
accused of piracy each time we make landfall.”
“Are you pirates?” Not that it mattered, as pirates were out of his jurisdiction unless he
caught one committing a crime of a vile nature upon land. Though he could detain for the night
all those involved in a drunken pub brawl little matter if they were pirate or not.
“We are men of the sea. Having been cruelly chased from the only home we knew as
boys…” Gin offered a sad shrug and a rueful smile. “We survived. If you wish to know what I
do here this eve, I aid my brother’s oldest friend with relocation; he desires a home holding
fewer memories to haunt him. ‘Tis during this time we came upon this man destroying cherished
valuables.” He motioned to the broken pieces strewn over the floor.
The Guard looked at the destruction and swirled his magik again, the scene of what
transpired dancing before his eyes. He looked at Doshan. “Master Doshan ryn Ferth, I must
detain you, for you have caused much trouble this eve.”
“You listen to the words of a pirate? This is the same man who put fire to my fleet, stole the
inventory from the ryn Ferth warehouse. Why do you do naught about that?”
“Pirate or not, I go by what the evidence here tells me.” The Guard stepped forward, hand
within his pocket breaking open the small packet of subduing powder he kept there, listening to
the deep intuitive feeling that Doshan would not go peacefully. “Without permission you entered
this manor after forcefully deactivating the sanctioned security spell and broke valuables
belonging not to you. ‘Tis a most serious offence.”
“Already were these items broken, already was the spell disarmed and the door open. I came
in worried about my man of affairs who has not been to work…”
“’Tis not what the evidence tells me.”
“Bastard, this will be your career.”
“I can only hope.” Oh yes, this would definitely promote him to Watcher.
The Guard moved toward Doshan confidently, cautiously, prepared for the other man’s
resistance. He pulled his hand from his pocket seeing Doshan’s hands curl into white-knuckle
fists, body crouched as if ready to spring. The moment the other man charged, he raised his hand,
opened it and blew, powder exploding in Doshan’s face. He quickly sidestepped, grabbed
Doshan’s arm as he stumbled by, twisting it behind his back and forced him up against the wall.
There he waited until the struggling ceased and Doshan’s body sagged, relaxed.
He pulled Doshan away from the wall and directed the now docile man towards the door. He
stopped and gazed at Gin and Torin. “Do I hold hope that you will be here on the morrow?
‘Twould aid in keeping him detained.”
“Doubt I do there is much that could keep him within a holding cell, he holds much
influence.” Torin briefly surveyed the damage. He had planned not to pack what was now
broken, mostly gifts from Alara’s parents and friends—gifts she had displayed only because they
were gifts, not objects she admired for their beauty—choosing instead to leave it for whoever
bought his house. “Knowing that he cannot escape detention at least for the evening, ‘tis enough
for me.”
The Guard nodded, understanding. “My brother lost his husband a year past and so I
understand the need to leave. The evidence of Doshan ryn Ferth’s crime will remain, so no need
is there to stay. Mayhap he will not gain a sentence, but he will be humiliated.”
Torin and Gin watched the Guard leave with Doshan stumbling along meekly in front of
him.
“Aye, ‘tis too bad we cannot stay to witness such an event,” Gin returned to speaking in the
rough parlance of a pirate. “’Twould be a fine thing indeed to see the bastard humiliated.”
Torin walked over to the painting of Alara and closely examined it, making certain that no
harm had been done. “I know not what came over me. I saw him touching… all I saw was red
and overwhelming was the need to kill him. She would not want me to waste a moment upon
him, but…”
“All is well. Were I in your place, I would wish to make him suffer long before he
descended into The Firebreath and ‘twould matter little how I did it.” Gin kept his distance from
the painting, hating the look upon Torin’s face as he gazed upon her lovely visage. He disliked
the jealousy he felt, but he held no notion how not to feel such horrid emotions. “’Tis best if we
gather what ye wish to take and return to the boat.”
Torin nodded and lifted the painting, placing it lovingly in the crate.
* * *
“Doshan said that you held not the proper documents to steal his money.” Gin strapped
down the last of Torin’s crates in the boat’s hold, securing them in case of a storm. He had
wished to ask about Doshan’s claim earlier, but felt it would be best to wait until they had
finished clearing out the house, not wishing to leave behind such evidence for the Guards and
Watchers sure to come investigating Doshan’s crimes.
Laughter bubbled up to the surface as Torin peered over his shoulder at the pirate. He was
securing the painting of his wife. “Did he now? A bigger fool he is than I always believed him if
that man thinks I was unable to detect his false finances.”
Gin crossed his arms, that same scoundrel smile upon his face. He wished to kiss Torin,
loving the sound of his baritone laughter, the smile causing his breath to catch. “Truly?”
“Indeed. I replaced his false documents with the real long before I set out to deal my
vengeance. Doshan no longer has any funds to his name or any property. All that he thought was
his now belongs to others.”
“And who are these others?”
“You and Ellis…and me. Much of what Doshan held,” he quickly continued before Gin
could get beyond the surprise of his statement, “did not rightfully belong to him. In fact, most of
it rightfully belonged to you and your brother as the true heirs of your parents. I only took for
myself what I would need to survive for a few years.”
“I…”
“The bastard even held lands and funds which had belonged to your father; lands and funds
bought and earned with his own actions, as well as lands and funds that had belonged to him as a
tyr Vens. The same with what had once belonged to your mother. I knew not how to divide the
assets betwixt you and Ellis so I placed it all within both your names with thoughts that you and
he would decide.” Torin faced Gin fully. “I wished not to cause hurt feelings. Ellis stated to leave
all that was ryn Ferth to you since you were the ryn Ferth and so ‘twas done.”
“I hate…” Gin bit down upon his tongue stopping the confession. “In need we are of seeing
if Master Stone has returned, he pushes close the two hours I allotted. Mayhap if he has not
returned we should see about procuring a few supplies for our journey, at least enough to sustain
our journey to the next port.”
“Gin…” Torin caught up to the pirate before he gained the ladder. “What do you hate?”
“I hate…I hate that I am ryn Ferth. I hate that I look ryn Ferth. I hate that my brother is tyr
Vens and I am not. I once grew a beard thinking to hide this awful face, but still I looked ryn
Ferth…and it itched horribly. I would only take what is ryn Ferth to honor my mother and to
make Doshan suffer, but truly I desire naught of the House of ryn Ferth.” Gin started climbing
the ladder, running away, embarrassed that he had actually spoken such words aloud.
Rune stared at his hand poised above the door ready to knock. If he could only bring himself
to do so, but his bravado of earlier seeming to have disappeared. So many years gone by. He
could still recall the last time he had come to see her, seeing the marriage cuff upon her wrist,
one not his own.
With a soft growl, he forced himself to knock—he was a Stone; he did not show fear. But
then he groaned, realizing that ‘twas the middle of the night. Genna was most likely sleeping.
Of course that brought a pirate’s grin to his face and he stepped back from the door wanting
to assess the pretty little house, search for an easy, quick entrance. If all went well, he would
have his woman hot for him before she was fully awake and begging him to fuck her.
“Move, you loathsome ground slider, and ‘twill be my dagger buried in your back,” a low,
harsh voice ordered.
Rune went still, his hands out to the side; he could feel the point of the weapon at his back.
“Easy now. I offer no harm.”
“Tagen?” Genna lowered the dagger and moved around the intruder. She was certain she
recognized that voice. Seeing that it was indeed her childhood lover, she placed her hands on her
hips, dagger still tightly gripped in her left. She glowered up at him, trying not to eat him with
her gaze; he was still ridiculously attractive, hardly a line of age upon his face. The bastard.
“What do you do here?”
Ignoring the dagger, he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, the tendrils of blond
hair falling from beneath her cap tickling his hand, and kissed her, a hard possessive kiss. She
still tasted of limon candy. He should have brought her some. “What do you think I do here,
limon drop?”
Genna pulled away, taking a hasty step back, but bumped into the front door of her house,
dagger falling from her grip, her retreat thwarted. “What are you about?”
“What am I about? Mayhap my kiss was not clear enough.” Rune followed, bracing his
hands on either side of the door. He leaned down, intent on kissing her again.
“Wait!” She wedged her hands between them, pushed at his chest.
“I have waited, waited all these long years for you, and I wait no more.” Before she could
say another word of protest, he covered her lips once more with his, staking his claim. He leaned
his body against hers, pressing her further into the door, groaning at the feel of her breasts
crushed beneath his chest. “Aye, too many years, woman.”
Her arms slipped up around his neck, anchoring him to her as desire took over. This man
had always known how to kiss, how to use his full lips to drag her sensually into the swift
currents of passion.
“Take us inside, unless ye wish to make love out of doors.” His pirate came out, too lost in
his desire to be able to speak otherwise, to pretend to be anyone else. “Either way I claim ye this
eve.”
* * *
Genna stared up at the ceiling, her limbs still wrapped tightly around Rune, glowmood
fading. She was so very confused. She had happily fucked a man she had not seen for nigh
twenty years. There had been no contact between them since that day he came to her door and
discovered she had married…
“Why?” he whispered. “Why did ye marry Feddan?”
“I…”
“’Twas only a minor disagreement, surely ye knew I would return, beg forgiveness?” Rune
kissed her neck before levering himself up onto his elbows, keeping himself on top of her. He
was not about to give her an opportunity to escape. He watched her pretty tropical green eyes,
waited.
“I loved him,” her tone turned defensive.
“Nae! Ye loved me, as I loved ye. Besides, a Watcher he was.”
Her lips pursed, not liking the direction of the conversation. “Why do you speak so? Never
have I heard such a sound from your lips, ‘tis as if you have become a docksider.”
“Think not to change the subject.”
“If you answer my question, mayhap I will answer one of yours.”
“Woman… Ye should know I plan to have this out. I am most determined to learn the truth
of all that transpired.”
“Why do you speak so?”
Rune closed his eyes and counted to an undetermined number. “A seafarer I am, and ‘tis
how those who live the way of the sea speak.”
“Since when?”
“Since always, now ‘tis time for ye to answer my question. Why did ye marry him?”
“You…” She shoved at him, but he would not move, so she settled for glaring at him—so
much for the shared passion, the glowmood, of moments before. “It matters little now.”
“It matters everything. For all these years I have tormented myself with thoughts of ye in
bed with him, crying out in pleasure; or turning to him when ye needed comfort; laughing at
foolish things.”
“’Tis what you deserve for…for sending your father to end things betwixt us after that last
argument. ‘Twas you who…”
“Never did I do such a thing! I loved ye, wanted to marry ye! Aye, I was jealous, I showed a
lack of trust, but…”
“I cared not about your jealousy, ‘tis not what hurt me, you fool!”
“Then what…?”
“’Twas your other accusation, that I wished to keep you from the sea.”
“Ye did! Every time I brought up sailing…”
She thumped his shoulder, twice. “Not so! I wanted you to take me with you.”
“I could not do such, ‘twas not my boat, and this I mentioned. I was only to be gone a
fortnight and yet during that time ye run off and marry Feddan without a by yer leave. Twenty
years, woman…” His head bowed, touching his forehead to hers, brushed their lips together.
“My limon drop…almost twenty years… I have wanted ye, desired ye…only ye. There were nae
others, only ye. I… Please, tell me.”
“Your father invited himself within my home and said you…” She turned her head away,
swallowed tears. “Said you no longer wished to hold my acquaintance, that you no longer
desired my company, that you asked him to return my gift, my father’s timetell. He then tossed a
receipt down upon the table telling me he had deposited a half-million debloos within my
account and suggested I leave the village so that my presence would no longer torment you.”
Pain slashed through him like the day he learned Genna had married another man and finally
rolled away, dropping onto his back, arm tossed over his eyes to hide the tears of betrayal. “Tell
me ye lie.”
“’Tis something I cannot do, but I wish I could.”
“He said ye demanded money, but never did I believe him. I was jealous of the time ye spent
with Feddan, but I knew that never would my limon drop have done such a thing. ‘Twas he
who… Why did ye believe him?”
“I did not, not at first, not with knowing your feelings about him, how he treated your
brothers. I said I would wait to hear it from you myself, but he dragged me to the docks and
showed me you with another, laughing, touching…kissing.”
“Ye saw wrong.”
“I saw… I saw her kiss you!” She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, left the
bed, put on a robe. “You did not put her away from you. Instead you swung your arm about her
shoulders and boarded the boat. ‘Twas clear why you wished me not to accompany you! ‘Twas
clear why you would act jealous, you were hiding…”
“’Twas the capt’n who kissed me, but ‘twas not that way; already did she have a lover
and…”
“Yes, you were her lover!”
“Nae!” Rune lunged from the bed, uncaring of his naked status and rounded the bed, glared
down at her. “The capt’n was my mother’s younger sister, Gray Stone! Certain I am I mentioned
such to ye.”
Genna turned away, feeling foolish, her face burning with shame, she swore she could hear
each of the tiny stitches she had used to mend her broken heart plunk dissonantly as they tore
free. “All I saw was a beautiful woman kiss you.”
“And still ye say not why ye married Feddan.”
“He offered and I…”
“The babe,” he whispered, anguished. “’Twas not long after ye… A papa, I am a papa?
Never did I think ye would not tell me were the babe mine.”
She turned around and thumped his shoulder again and once more, but it proved not enough
and she started pounding on his chest with both fists, tears streaming down her face. “Yes! I was
pregnant! But you wished to go to sea, to be as far from me as possible!”
He grabbed her wrists and pulled her against him, anchoring her arms behind her back. “I
was trying to earn my fortune so that I might marry ye and care for ye proper. My bastard father
threatened to disown me did I continue my relation with ye, saying I was too young, that ye were
not… But never could I let ye go and I told him so, told him I cared not if he claimed me nae
longer his son. Ye should have said. Ye should have confronted me.” His eyes closed and his
head fell back as he tried not to yell his pain. “Ye allowed another man to raise my child. Ye
allowed another man into yer bed.”
“Feddan preferred men so never did he grace my bed. His father never could accept that part
of him and was going to disown him did he not marry a woman and produce a child.”
“And so he claimed my child as his own!?”
“Yes! I tried to give him one of his own, but our essences would not combine.”
“Because he was Watcher and ye Keeper!”
“He was not Watcher, I know not why you insist such. Feddan said he came from the blood,
but did not inherit the magik.”
“’Twas a lie!” He wanted to shake her. “Why did ye not…? Surely, never would…” Anger
flared hotter and he spun around finding the washbasin and began cleaning up, throwing a wet
cloth to Genna.
“How romantic.”
“Nae time is there for romance. In need ye are of cleaning and clothing yerself.”
“Why?” She refused to move.
“The Keepers here have much to answer for.” He dropped the used cloth in the washbasin
and began gathering his clothing, Genna’s as well. He would speak with his mother about this
matter later, not knowing if she had been aware or not. “Know I do they should have stopped
such a relation before ever it happened, ‘tis forbidden. That they did not, I…I should have come
back, spoken up, brought it to their attention when I learned of it.”
“But I am not Keeper, never was I accepted, certain I am I told you. The Great Keeper…”
“The van Wyrn never would have turned ye away as long as ye had the magik.”
“But… You know well that my line is Outcast. The Great Keeper…”
“As I stated, the van Wyrn…”
“But I speak not of this van Wyrn. Whoever she is, ‘tis not she who proclaims Keepers
within Lynda.”
“I think the van Wyrn would disagree with such a proclamation. As High Keeper of all
Keepers she is the ultimate authority on all things Keeper.”
“What knowledge is this?”
“’Tis amazing what ye learn outside yer home shores. Mayhap exiling myself all these years
past was a gift and not a curse.” He tossed her clothing to the foot of the bed. “Hurry. I have not
much time before that scoundrel nephew of mine decides to set sail.”
“You leave again?” Genna felt her lungs constrict at the thought despite knowing she should
be grateful.
Rune turned her around and kissed her hard. “Aye, but this time I take ye with me. Mayhap
ye should truly hurry and pack a bag of what is most important, for ‘tis with me ye will stay from
now on.”
“But…”
“Woman, did I have a pair of marriage cuffs, I would place one upon yer wrist this eve, my
capt’n marrying us, but I do not and so all I can do is liberate ye from this doomed life. But I
promise, at first chance, I will procure the cuffs and marry ye.”
“Even after all that has transpired?”
“Aye.”
She studied him, looking deep into his grey-blue eyes, trying to decide if he lied.
Remembering that very look in his eyes from when they were lovers, from when he would say he
loved her, she threw her arms around his neck, a high sound of excitement filling the room.
“Never have I stopped loving you.”
“Or I ye.” He wrapped his arms about her, held her tight. “After this, I would meet our
child.”
“The moment we set sail, I will write to Jag, ask him to meet us. He sails upon The Mistress
Grey; he hopes to one day be captain of his own boat.”
“Jag?”
“Jagen…named him I did after you and your mother.” Because they had been the only two
who had ever been kind to her after her mother passed to The Everafter.
* * *
Rune pounded his fist on the door to the Keeper’s cottage, uncaring of the late hour. He
would have the answers before he left Lynda for good with his treasure and son. He would
explore the thrilling sensation of having a child later, but it was difficult, wishing to ask Genna
all about him.
He slammed his fist against the door once more, ire replacing any joy he was feeling bit by
bit. It was because of this Great Keeper that his Genna was considered an Outcast in the village.
She should have been Keeper; she should have been respected.
“Open this door, or ‘twill be knocked in!”
The door was jerked open revealing a sleepy freckled-faced woman with rags twisted within
her flame red hair and wearing a pink dressing gown. “Know you the time?”
“Aye, indeed I do, woman.” He took a step forward, but felt Genna holding onto his jerkin,
could feel her fear. He forced himself to take a deep breath and speak with the rolling cadence of
a Lyndian man. “That you are Keeper, it should matter little the time. You are here to aid the
folks of this village, and aid should be given with little regard to the hour.” He pushed inside,
dragging Genna with him.
“What is this about? The Outcast is not welcome here.” She narrowed her eyes in Genna’s
direction.
Rune loomed darkly over the Keeper, his face inches from hers, could see her pupils dilating
rapidly in her brown eyes. “Aid is to be given to the folks of the village, it matters little what
their standing is within said village. Now, I suggest you call the High Keeper of all Keepers or
you will care little for the results of my ever fraying temper.”
“You cannot speak to me so! I can…”
“Call the High Keeper of all Keepers, or do you put to the test the House of syn Leth’s
word?”
That got the Keeper’s attention, but it did not help her mood. Her eyes lost the earlier
annoyance and began shining with a mixture of dread, for all knew what the House of syn Leth
was capable of, and outrage at being threatened.
“The Outcast is in need of leaving…” She squeaked when the angry, dark haired man
moved further into her space, forcing her to take a step back or be stepped on.
“Call the High Keeper before I render this cottage to splinters and summon the Watchers to
feast over its remains.”
The Keeper fled, her frilly robe fluttering behind her. Rune held no knowledge where she
had gone off to, but he was prepared to search her out if she did not reappear within five minutes
with the van Wyrn.
“Tagen…” Genna whispered, tugged on his coat urgently. “’Tis foolish to threaten a
Keeper.”
“That one is weak and of no concern to me, limon drop.”
“Even a weak Keeper should not be toyed with.”
“Allow her not to intimidate you. The finest of women you are and have no need to cower.”
Just as patience was wearing thin, two sets of footsteps reverberated from the back of the
cottage. Rune crossed his arms and stood with legs braced, prepared to greet the High Keeper,
but the van Wyrn was not amongst the pair of women. The flame-haired Keeper was looking
smug and triumphant now that she stood behind a much older, grey-haired, woman.
“You dare order one of my Keepers about as if she were your personal servant? And that
you dare bring that Outcast past this threshold…”
“’Tis the Great Keeper,” Genna whispered and huddled further behind Rune. “Last I saw her
she said she would turn me into a ground slider did I cross her path again. I was only purchasing
goods to fill my pantry.”
Magik whipped around the cottage as Rune’s temper snapped, tempted beyond reason to
slam the two women against the cottage walls, if only for terrorizing his woman; Genna was not
one to frighten easily.
“I said summon the High Keeper!” He pointed at the older woman. “She is not the High
Keeper!”
“I am the Great Keeper of Lynda.” The older Keeper pulled herself to her full height
refusing to be intimidated, her still handsome face pinching. “I know not who you are, but I am
the sole authority inside these borders and that woman with you is not welcome within a
Keeper’s presence.”
Rune took a step forward, but again Genna held him back, refusing to let go. “Genna, please
release my coat so that I might strangle this bitch.”
“’Tis the Great Keeper.”
“But not the High Keeper.” Grey-blue eyes flashed and swirled, bits of lightning crashed in
the depths as he glared at the Great Keeper, relishing the fear he saw on her paling face. He then
turned to the younger Keeper. “I suggest you call the van Wyrn or I will carry out my earlier
threat.”
“I know not how.” The younger Keeper waved her hands in front of her, shook her head.
“Never have I even spoken to her or gone to the Keeper Assembly. Only the Great Keeper goes
to the Assembly. ‘Tis she who declared me Keeper.”
“I care not how you do it, woman, just do it.”
“Stand tall byl Byrt! We will not be intimidated…”
But the younger Keeper fled, despite the Great Keeper’s attempt to grab her. The Great
Keeper then summoned magik to her hands and flung it at Rune, but he laughed and swatted the
magik aside.
“A mere fly you are and ‘twill be a pleasure to flatten you down.”
“’Tis enough, Master syn Leth.” Betrys van Wyrn walked into the room, the flame-haired
Keeper cowering behind her. The High Keeper smiled warmly at her heart-brother’s
boatswain…well former boatswain now. She had used his translated name knowing he was not
there as pirate, though ‘twas obvious he wished to be. “You desired to see me?”
“High Keeper…” He drew in a deep breath and another before pulling Genna out from
behind him, his arm about her shoulders keeping her from darting once more behind him. He
looked down at her and smiled encouragement. This was not normal behavior for his treasure.
“All is well, limon drop, I promise. High Keeper, I would present Genna tyn Vern. Genna, this is
her High Grace, Betrys van Wyrn, High Keeper of all Keepers, Dusalla of Telia. She hails from
Artezan and has the ear of her king and the former queen.”
“Rhedyn will be queen once more, as soon as those two stop being stubborn,” Betrys said.
“High Grace.” Genna curtsied, terrified. Not only could she feel the power of this woman,
she had never met a Dusalla before.
Betrys’s head tilted to the side as she studied the woman huddled against the pirate. “Why
have you never been presented at the Assembly, Mistress tyn Vern? You are Keeper by blood
and magik. And ‘tis strong magik most assuredly.”
Genna finally gazed at the woman called the van Wyrn and something eased deep inside her,
her usual courage filling her once more. The van Wyrn was the very picture of Zasara, which by
rights should frighten her more, for as an Outcast she was forbidden the grace of the High
Guardian, but she was not afraid. Not even the High Keeper’s soul-gazing black eyes caused her
any dread. She straightened, though she stayed at Rune’s side. “I am Outcast.”
“Excuse me?”
“Long have the women of my family refused all attempts by the various Lyndian Great
Keepers to match us with a spouse and so were labeled Outcast. It was ordered that we were to
be shunned by all Keepers, our access to the secrets stripped, our grace before Zasara forbidden.
This Great Keeper offered to reconsider our being Outcast did my mother promise me to the
Great Keeper’s granddaughter when I was but a babe.” She pointed to the flame-haired Keeper.
“Ma refused. After Ma crossed to The Everafter when I was fifteen, again the Great Keeper
made the offer, but I could not abide such a notion, not when I have always wanted Tagen.”
“I see.” Betrys kept her eyes on Genna. “And this Great Keeper believes she has such
authority?”
“Does she not?”
“No, she does not.”
“’Tis you who does not have the authority to come here and tell me…” The Great Keeper
spoke for the first time since the van Wyrn arrived, having finally found her voice, but her
sentence went unfinished when the High Keeper turned flame engulfed eyes upon her.
Betrys kept her eyes on the older woman as she snarled, “No, ‘tis you who does not have the
authority. A Great Keeper is meant to aid the High Keeper—she is not an authority when it
comes to who may be Keeper and who may not be Keeper. You have not the power to make a
Keeper Outcast or to force marriages under the threat of Outcasting.”
“The previous van Wyrn held the same opinion as myself, ‘twas she who gave me continued
permission to guide my Keepers…”
“I know well that Hana van Wyrn would never hold such an opinion.”
“I speak of Fianna.”
“Do not speak that name to me! She was not the van Wyrn!” She slammed the older woman
against the wall, sealed off her words. She wanted to do worse, but she could feel her father
reaching out to her, curious by her sudden temper in the middle of the night. Closing her eyes,
she breathed deep, and controlled the emotion, extinguishing the flames of The Firebreath from
her gaze. It would not do to have The Firedaimon appear.
Betrys returned her attention to Genna and Rune. “No need is there for you to remain here,
my friends. ‘Tis my responsibility as High Keeper of all Keepers to right this situation and learn
how deep and long this conspiracy has been in practice.”
Genna looked down, having felt a glimmer of hope that she would finally be accepted as
Keeper, but it was obviously not to be. “Yes, High Grace.”
“Now, when your latest adventure is complete, Master syn Leth, you are to bring Genna to
Telia so that I might begin her training. I would have her a most capable Keeper by year’s end
when the Assembly meets once more.”
Genna gasped, her head jerking up. “I am to be Keeper?”
“’Tis your birthright. Do you not wish to be?”
“Oh yes! Please, always has it been my fondest wish to be Keeper. I know some magik as
the women of my family forgot not their roots, though my mother was unable to finish teaching
me all she knew before her passing.”
“I am pleased to hear of your foremothers tenacity and hopefully there is not much I need to
show you. When I return home I plan to search through the Library and locate your family tree; I
am most curious about it. Know you when this foolishness started?”
“With Aenna tyn Vern, my great grandmother thrice over.”
“That long? I must speak with my mother in regards to this matter. I care little to learn that I
have been so unaware of this conspiracy, that there was no one in all these years who thought to
bring it to my attention or that of my foremothers. Though I will say, two hundred years ago
much was different.”
Rune took Genna’s hand and started to leave, they were running late. Hopefully Gin would
not attempt to sail without him. But then again, ‘twould be quite the feat were he to sail the boat
with only himself and Torin.
“Master syn Leth, Mistress tyn Vern. You forget something.”
They turned around, curious.
Betrys summoned her magik, performing an intricate set of hand signs, and after waving
aside an invisible barrier, she reached her hands into some darkened recess only she could see
and jerked out a trussed bundle. It landed on the floor with a loud thud and a soft groan.
“I believe this young man is your son. A bit of trouble he found himself in.”
Rune and Genna could only stare.
“’Twas in his best interest that I bring him here for an even worse situation awaited him
upon the dawn.” Betrys shook her head. “Do you not greet your son?”
“Jagen!” Genna rushed over to the young man, pushed dark hair from his face. She bit her
lip seeing the bruises. “What happened? Was his boat attacked?”
“’Twould be best did he tell you. Other than a few cuts and bruises he is fine, but he should
rest.”
“I…” Rune continued to stare at the lad. His son.
“Your captain grows cross, Master Stone.” She called him by the name he preferred, hoping
it would snap him out of his stupor. “’Tis time to take your family and begin this next adventure.
Besides, rather would I not have what happens next within these walls be witnessed.”
Rune looked at the High Keeper. Seeing the look in her eyes, he nodded and unrooted his
feet from the floor. He picked up his son, foregoing untying him in favor of time, and tossed him
over his shoulder. He then tucked Genna under his arm and teleported to the hidden cove where
The Tropic Swirl was anchored, his magik catching her bag and bringing it with them.
“Tempted I was to sail without ye, uncle,” Gin growled seeing Rune board the boat. He took
out his timetell, a pretty piece Red Boots had given him upon his eighteenth birthday, and
checked the time before placing it once more within the front pocket of his fleece-lined jerkin; it
was just over an hour before dawn. “Did I not say two hours and yet more than three have
passed?”
“I apologize, lad, but fetching my treasure took longer than anticipated. I hope you mind not,
but I brought my son as well. His mother tells me he desires to one day be captain of his own
boat, mayhap we will have another hand to help us sail.”
“Ye have a son?”
A wide smile split Rune’s face. “Aye, it appears I do. I look most forward to gaining his
acquaintance.”
“Then ye knew not of him?”
“Nae, I did not, but that time is at an end.” He placed Genna on her feet and motioned
towards Gin. “Genna, my nephew, Ginger Py.”
Outrage lit Gin’s face. “’Tis Gin, ye old yullie! ‘Tis Gin.”
Rune laughed, letting the old yullie comment pass by. “Do excuse me, nephew, I was only
being proper. This is Genna tyn Vern, my treasure. Ye treat her well or I will know the why of
it.”
“Welcome aboard, mistress. Know ye anything of sailing?”
“I recall much of what Tagen taught me, and will do my best not to be in the way until such
time that I might be of use.” She looked at Rune. “You say his name is Ginger? Of which side is
he from, he looks much that of a ryn Ferth.”
With both hands, Rune brought their son down from his shoulder and placed him gently on
the deck. “He is a ryn Ferth; ‘tis Eltin’s son, Kynon, before ye. Took he did the name Ginger Py
when he went to live the way of the sea.”
“Gin! ‘Tis Gin! Call me Ginger once more and ‘twill be my fists ye feel.”
Rune ignored the outburst, but his lips twitched with mirth. “His twin brother, Ellis, goes by
the name Rum Kake as he is a tyr Vens.”
“And what name do you go by?”
“Rune Stone.”
“These names, sound much like the old tongue they do.”
“They are from the old tongue.” He set about untying his son from his bonds, tsking at the
marks the rope left behind. “Though the one standing behind my nephew has yet to adopt such a
name for himself. That is Gin’s treasure…”
“Torin!” Genna smiled seeing the portly man and waved. “What do you do upon this boat?”
“I finally found the courage to leave Lynda.” Torin waved back, ignoring the startled looks
of both Gin and Rune. His friendship with Genna was recent, but had been most welcome. “Then
you are my cousin’s treasure? ‘Tis a fine fit methinks.”
“I understand not this being treasure.”
“All I could glean from the matter is that pirates keep their treasure.”
“Then I mind not being treasure. Tagen…”
“Ye should start calling me Rune, limon drop. ‘Tis how I am known upon the sea. I only use
Tagen when I am upon Lyndian soil…if I absolutely must.”
“And speak properly as well?”
“Aye.” He finished untying Jag and nearly fell back when the lad suddenly scrambled away
from him with hands raised ready to defend. The lad had his eyes. He was surprised that his
father had not tried to take the babe from Genna. “Easy, son.”
Jag frantically looked around the boat hoping to find an escape route when he saw his
mother. “Ma? What…? How did I get here? Who are these folks? Why are you…we here?”
Genna rushed over to her son and knelt before him, upset that he flinched away when she
went to check upon the bruises and cuts on his face. She offered him a look that quelled his
objections and continued surveying the damage.
“Ma! What goes on?”
“It appears that you and I are leaving Lynda for good with your father.”
“Feddan is dead.”
“Know you that he was not your father. Did you not say so to me when you were ten?”
“But you would not say who was.” He looked at the man standing behind his mother, the
one who had called him son—something Feddan had never done. They had the same eyes, the
same hairline, the same tiny dimple in the chin. “Where have you been?”
“I knew not that ye were mine, but that matters little at this time. Are ye well? The High
Keeper said ye suffered naught but a few cuts and bruises, but…”
“You…you speak as if you are pirate.”
“Mayhap I am. Is that how ye came by yer injuries, was it a pirate who thrashed ye? I would
know the answer, though it matters little if they are pirate or not. Lad, tell me what transpired.”
Jag knew not why, but he decided to confess his troubles. “I refused the advances of The
Mistress Grey’s first mate and so she claimed I raped her. Never did I touch her and yet they
thought to hang me come dawn.”
Genna’s hand flew to her mouth and she bit a knuckle, a distressed cry stifled. She looked to
Rune. “They… ‘Twas a legitimate boat, with fine reputation. I… Ever do I come upon those
bastards, ‘twill be my dagger in their gut.”
“Capt’n, mind ye if we find this Mistress Grey?” Rune peered over his shoulder at Gin. “I
would have the capt’n on his knees before me begging.”
“Nae, not at all. Indeed, I insist, Master Stone. If there is one thing I have learned living with
the House of Boots, ye attack one member of the family, ye attack all members.”
“Aye, Capt’n.” Rune returned his gaze to his son, triumph in his eyes and gracing his smile.
“Know ye the whereabouts of this vile boat, son?”
“We were about to drop anchor off the isle of Lador in the Far Northeastern Sea.”
“Ye have our headings, Master Stone. ‘Tis time to set sail.” Gin strode forward and held his
hand out to the younger man. “Welcome aboard, lad. Cousins we are. I am Gin, nephew to yer
papa and captain of this vessel.”
“Jag. I am Jag.” He took Gin’s hand and allowed him to help him to his feet. He stared at his
father who stared back. He held no notion what to think. As his mother said, he had known since
a young age that Feddan was not his father, but… How did he greet this man who had been no
part of his life.
“All is well, son.” Rune nodded. “Ye know naught of me, but I hope ye will take the time to
do so. If ye will excuse me, in need I am of pulling in the ropes and weighing anchor.” But he
hesitated, though he never hesitated when it was time to set sail.
Jag moved to aid, and stumbled, his arm going about his ribs, his breath whooshing out. He
felt his mother slip an arm about him, but he wished not to be seen as weak. He started to pull
away when his father shook his head. He knew not why, but he obeyed, allowing his mother to
help him. Why? Why was he not yelling at this man? Should he not be offering some sort of
anger towards him? Some resistance? He watched his father turn and rush to do as the captain
had commanded, magik swirling about the boat to do what a full crew would be doing to set sail.
“Jag…” Genna urged her son out of the way, taking him to the stairs leading up to the
quarterdeck once the captain had climbed them, urging Jag to sit. “Do you yell at me?”
“I know not what to feel, what to say. Never did you tell him about me.”
“’Twas complicated. There was a horrible miscommunication and I foolishly believed…
believed he no longer wanted me. ‘Twas a lie, but ‘tis my burden to bear. He would have been in
our lives had I not…” She shook her head. “He would like to be your papa, if you would but give
him the chance.”
“I know him not. Mayhap he is my father, but he is not a papa to me…” he hesitated seeing
her pain and quickly added, “yet.”
“Please, I beg of you, give him a chance. He is a most fine man.”
“And gladly do you go with him, this pirate?”
“Yes, ‘tis what I have always wanted, to be with him, to sail the seas as his wife. If he is
pirate, so be it, because I know well that never could he be a vicious man.”
* * *
“Focus, Master Stone,” Gin yelled a half hour later. “I need yer full attention for the time
being. After we are at full crew, I promise, you will be at liberty to concentrate on your new
family.” He laughed when Rune offered him a very rude gesture. He started whistling, thoughts
of singing entering his mind. He had always enjoyed it when Golden Boots would sing.
“Tell me, Master Pirate, is there need to speak to him so? Only did he find out he is a papa.”
Torin stood next to Gin, watched the boat rising and falling on rolling waves. He wanted
desperately to question him about his earlier confession, the self-loathing Gin felt for himself,
had been about to insist when Rune arrived with Genna and Jag. Knowing how private Gin was,
he would wait until they were alone within the cabin once more.
“I need him not to be distracted. ‘Tis only he and I sailing the boat. Mayhap were my cousin
not injured and could aid him the need would not be so great.” Gin corrected his course, finding
the wind that would take them north. “How do ye know Genna?”
“I offered her advice on investing her debloos, befriending her when she had none after her
husband’s death. She is a most interesting woman. Do you wish to know about her?”
“I am not jealous.”
“Never did I think you jealous.” Torin brushed his hand over Gin’s buttocks, pleased when
they tensed, even more pleased when Gin relaxed the muscles when he caressed him a second
time, gently rubbed. “I thought perhaps you would wish to learn what I know since she is sailing
with us.”
“’Twould be good to know of her.”
“She is a sweet girl, but one with a stubborn core.” Jasper appeared upon the quarterdeck
though none had seen her arrive. “Also does she hold a sense of pride, for never have I seen her
beg.” She approached Gin and took his jaw in her hand turning his head this way and that way,
smiling at the shock registered upon his features. “Know I would this face anywhere. ‘Tis one
very reminiscent of Bertun; a handsome rogue was he in his day. Though I do see yer father in
this face, ‘tis in the shape of the eyes, this dimple in yer cheek.”
“Who are ye?” Gin finally found his tongue, pulled his head away. “How did ye board my
boat?”
Jasper laughed. “Ah now, lad, do ye hold nae recognition of me? Many times did I visit yer
parents when ye and yer brother were children, never telling Ethen what I was about. ‘Tis easy to
see that ye remember not. I am Joss syn Leth, yer former stepgran, though I must say I prefer
going by the name Jasper Stone while upon the sea. Though Jas is fine for short.”
Gin blinked, swallowed the thick nasty lump in his throat. How had she appeared without
notice? How had she stowed away upon his boat, let alone found his boat. Jasper Stone, he had
heard stories about the pirate’s daring during the Great Clash, her ability to board a boat without
any notice. ‘Twas said the House of Stone… He looked at Rune. Why had he not realized…?
More to the point, why had Rune not ever said…?
“Now, now, ‘twas easy enough to know where my son hid the vessel he sailed in upon when
‘twas I who showed him the cove years before.” She turned to Torin and smiled. “And how do
ye fare, Master eth Welex?”
“I am well…to a point.”
“Ah, of course, yer aunt I am and never did I come for ye when by rights I should have. My
brother’s wish. He feared what the ryn Ferths might do were they to realize that there was
connection ‘twixt ye and the tyr Venses. Though, he did mention once that ye would be the ryn
Ferths’ down fall. He was like that, holding a bit of the Sight.” She laughed, clapping her hands
still seeing the look of having been butted in the stomach by a yullie upon Gin’s face. “Come,
lad, ‘tis unbecoming to have yer tongue tied so.”
“Ma?” Rune stood midship, stared, then smiled broadly. “What do ye do here?”
She walked to the quarterdeck’s forward railing and leaned over, the present he had gifted
her with—a large blue cameo of a boat on swift winds—dangling from fine links of gold around
her neck. “Am I disallowed an adventure, son?”
“Nae, of course not, but ‘tis a surprise!”
“’Tis something I should have done long before now. A shame ‘tis it took me so long to
reach my limits. I am most in need of being upon the sea once more.” She noticed then Genna
sitting on a crate portside, a young man sitting next to her watching every move Rune made. “I
see ye found yer treasure.”
“Aye. Come meet my son.”
“Son? Ye have a…” She disappeared in a flutter of shadows and reappeared right before the
young man sitting on the crate. She looked at him, studied, smiling broadly. “Aye, ‘tis a son ye
have.” She looked at Genna. “Why did ye never say, sweet?”
“Joss, I…” Genna jumped to her feet, standing tall before the mid-age woman, but she knew
not how to explain and so motioned to her son to stand. “I would introduce my son, Jagen tyn
Vern…though I suppose he is truly syn Leth. Jag, ‘tis Joss syn…”
“Prefer I do to be called Jasper Stone while upon the sea.”
Genna nodded, a single sharp bob of her head. “I will endeavor to remember it. You are
Jasper, Tagen is Rune and the one who is captain of this boat is Gin.” This was spoken mainly to
herself. She then nudged her son. “’Tis your gran before you, son.”
Jag kept a hand about his ribs as he held Jas’s blue gaze. “Are you pirate as well?”
“Aye, lad, and quite proud.”
“Are all those from the House of syn Leth…this House of Stone, pirates?”
“Aye and nae.”
“Mistress Stone…” Gin called.
Seeing that Gin was still shocked, that he was having trouble sailing, Torin slipped his arms
about the pirate and kissed his neck. He smiled feeling Gin’s body jerk to attention and kissed his
neck once more. Feeling naughty, he dropped a hand below Gin’s waist, up under the edge of his
thick, yullie-lined jerkin, and tickled his prick with the tips of his fingers.
“What are ye about?” Gin looked around to make certain no one was watching them,
wiggled his hips trying to escape Torin’s dancing fingers.
“You were distracted, pirate. Did you not yell at Rune for such a thing a few moments
past?”
“I…”
“Now that we seem to have another member to our crew, mayhap we might adjourn to the
captain’s quarters? I have several issues I wish to speak of.”
“I-issues?”
“Yes. Several.” Torin caressed Gin once more before stepping away and coming to stand at
his side. However, he brushed his fingers over the outer shell of Gin’s ear; he liked touching him
too much to deny himself.
“S-such as?” Gin started to pull away, except he knew that Torin would continue to touch
him, in fact, he would touch him more, and so stayed still.
Torin kept touching him.
Yeryl and Zasara, it was making him hard. He wished not to be hard right then. Very well,
yes he did. He wished very much to be alone with Torin, but at the same time… He tried to
swallow that lump still stuck in his throat.
“They are issues I am certain you would prefer were kept private, so when we are alone, I
will discuss them with you.” He saw the frustration on Gin’s face. “Do you regret taking me with
you then?”
“Nae! I…” Gin bit his tongue, trying to think. “I understand not all ye do. I know not what
to make of it, or how I am to respond.” And he wished he knew why he spoke such a thing out
loud. Then again, he seemed to be doing that quite often since he freed Torin from the holdcage
the previous morning.
“I wish you to enjoy what I do, naught more. Sex is pleasurable, but so is the anticipation,
the before play. ‘Tis the before play that makes the pleasure received from sex thrice as fine.
Sometimes the before play is all one needs.” Torin leaned in and licked the lobe of Gin’s ear
before murmuring hotly, “Do you not recall the pleasure had when I spoke of the things I wished
to do to you while you stroked yourself?”
“Torin…” his voice was a hoarse whisper.
“I will pleasure you well when next we are alone.”
“Enough…I…” Gin’s hands tightened on the knobs of the wheel, afraid he might come in
his breeches. He cleared his throat. “Mistress Stone, that ye have obviously stowed away upon
my boat, it seems only right that ye aid yer son in working the rigging. Time there will be
aplenty to socialize after we make port and gather more crew.”
Laughter floated up to the quarterdeck. “Aye, Capt’n Gin.”
“Methinks I will retire for awhile.” Torin kissed Gin’s ear. “A long day has it been. And to
think when I arose the other morn I had predicted the same dreary day that I had been
experiencing for the past five years, and now I have a pirate lover, have set sail to a new home,
and somewhere betwixt this day and making port on Ganos, we gain vengeance for a wrong done
to our cousin.”
Gin nearly called out to Torin, suddenly not wishing him to leave. The dawn was beginning
to break and… Instead he watched Torin descend the stairs and since he did not approach Genna
and Jag, he assumed Torin had done as he said and retired to the captain’s quarters.
“Fuck!”
All that he tried to do recently was wrong: his words, his actions.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
Was Torin not his treasure? Was he not captain of this boat?
Mind made up, he searched for where his cousin was sitting. “Cousin Jag, know ye a thing
or two about handling the wheel?”
“A-aye, Cousin Gin.” Belatedly he realized he should call him captain, especially when his
father and grandmother narrowed their eyes at him, as did Gin. He cleared his throat and tried
again. “Aye, Captain!”
“Very good. Take the wheel, I will spell you in an hour.”
“Captain Gin?” Genna jumped up from the crate moments after her son took the wheel.
“Aye, Mistress tyn Vern?” Gin leapt down the stairs two at a time.
“Is there aught I might do? I wish not to be useless.”
“Master Stone, find an activity for yer treasure. If she wishes to work, then who am I to deny
her?”
“Aye, Capt’n.” Rune grinned. It was a good thing to be captain, he thought, to be able to
delegate activities so that one might have a few minutes with one’s treasure. But then, he looked
at Genna standing there, waiting to be given something to do; this too was spending time with
one’s treasure.
* * *
Torin was sitting at the table when Gin entered the cabin and anticipation vibrated with a
thrilling intensity. The pirate just stood there staring at him, as if he was unable to decide if
something horrible or something exciting was waiting for him.
His cock grew hard, throbbed.
He stood and walked over to Gin, stopping right in front of him so his breath brushed along
Gin’s throat. Reaching behind the still frozen man, Torin locked the door wanting privacy, and
then, without a single word spoken, returned to his seat. Once settled, he crossed his legs, resting
ankle upon knee, and used his ability to Read the situation to learn of Gin’s desires.
“Hands upon your head, pirate.” It was an order.
Without thought, Gin did as instructed. He trembled. He could only hope that Torin did not
see. “I…”
“Come stand before me.”
Gin walked without his usual swagger, feeling a little unbalanced with his arms not at his
sides. He stopped in front of Torin, but kept his eyes forward, not ready to confront his lover’s
mesmerizing yiska gaze.
After a moment Torin stood. He kissed Gin, slow and sensuous, pulling back when he felt
Gin’s arms start to lower. “You are to keep your hands upon your head until I tell you otherwise.
Do you understand?”
“Aye.” He trembled again as he laced his fingers together.
“Very good, pirate.” Torin once more kissed him, still that slow, sensuous movement of his
lips over Gin’s. He licked the other man’s lips, a quick flick of his tongue. “Your lips are most
satisfying to kiss.”
“Aye.” He loved the feel of Torin’s kiss. He met his gaze when he heard him chuckle. “Is
aught wrong?”
“No.” Another kiss. He stepped back and slowly started unbuttoning Gin’s jerkin. “Is there a
time limit?”
“An hour. I… an hour.”
“Time enough for what I desire.”
Reaching the last button, Torin used magik to remove the jerkin, unwilling to have Gin
lower his arms. Dropping his hands, he began slipping free the buttons on Gin’s breeches to
release his hard prick. With erect cock exposed, shirt partially untucked to allow for said
exposure, Torin returned to his chair. Elbow on the table, he rested his cheek on the palm of his
hand and admired the rumpled look.
“Torin…?” Gin started to drop his arms, wishing to cover up, uncomfortable with being
exposed so.
“Do not move; I enjoy the view.”
“I do not lighten my hair…on my head.”
Torin lifted his gaze and found Gin looking toward the wall, trying to hide the torment he
felt. “Take a step closer.”
“I do not…lighten…” But he did as he was bade. He sucked in a sharp breath when he felt
Torin brush his fingers ever so lightly over the hard length of his prick, raked his fingers through
the dark hair surrounding the base.
“Never did I think you did, and I would care not did you.” He blew gently over the prick,
pleased when Gin reacted, a tiny sound lifting from his throat. “Tell me more of what you found
in your brother’s books.”
“I… I am not so hairy.”
“I enjoy your quantity of hair, ‘tis manly.” He tsked, seeing Gin’s lips pinch. “I need not my
lover trimmed and neat, but if you would prefer to be so, gladly would I aid you. Now, tell me
more of what you found in your brother’s books. Mentioned you did seeing a picture of a man
being tickled by a feather, was that all you spied?” He blew over the prick again—a drop of
precum glistened on the tip.
“He was tied, the man in the picture was tied.”
“You mentioned this. Did it excite you? Lie not to me.”
“Aye,” it was the faintest of whispers. He gasped when Torin once more brushed fingers
along the length of his cock. His trembling was becoming worse.
“What else was shown?”
“There was a picture of one man striking another’s buttocks with the flat of his hand. He
looked as if he enjoyed it…the one being struck.”
“There are those that do.” Torin studied Gin, curious why he would bring up such a thing.
He once more Read the situation then asked, “Would you like to see how it feels?”
Gin’s eyes went wide as he stared, shocked. He knew not why Torin would ask, for surely
he could not know… He was now unable to control his trembling. He could envision Torin
delivering the stinging blows to his buttocks and became excited, his cock jumping, but…
He could still hear the bitch’s voice calling him pervert.
He took a step back before he knew what he was about.
“Why do you tremble so, pirate? Do you wish to stop? I would understand if you desired
such—hardly do we know each other and moved we have most quick in our relation, becoming
intimate within a day’s time of this adventure’s beginning. Now again I ask: do you tell me
cease? Better still, I would have you say…anchor if you desire to end our play. Do you
understand?”
“Aye.”
Torin reached out and brushed his fingers along Gin’s prick once more, its’ hardness never
wavering. “Do you have us stop?”
“Nae,” it was said in that same barely audible whisper.
“Return to your previous position in front of me.” He sat back when Gin took that forward
step and contemplated his next move. Obviously Gin was not ready to experience being spanked
despite the fact that it aroused him.
With his mind made up, Torin summoned a black, plumed quill to his hand. He ignored the
tiny choked-off grunt from Gin and circled the feather around the base of Gin’s prick.
“Torin…”
“Do not move. Did you not say this notion excited you?”
Gin gritted his teeth as Torin once more swirled the feather around the base of his erection
and then drew it up along the sensitive underside. “Where did ye find that?”
“I believe the previous captain of this boat was rather flamboyant. Have you not noticed the
décor? All of these furnishing are done in the romantic bent of the Jewel Age. Do you like this,
the delicate feel of the feather upon your skin?”
Torin stood and brushed the feather over Gin’s throat, his jaw, and cheek. He walked slowly
around him, tickled the back of his neck. With a snap of his fingers, he removed Gin’s shirt and
ran the feather over his now exposed back, smiling when the pirate shuddered.
“Do you like this, pirate?”
“Fuck me. I wish ye to…”
“No.”
“Then what is the point of this?”
Torin pressed against Gin’s back, his breath against his ear, his erection pressed against
Gin’s ass to demonstrate his own arousal. He reached around Gin’s chest and once more dusted
the feather over the hard length of cock.
“The point, my fine pirate, is to take you to the edge of pleasure and keep you there for as
long as possible.” He pressed his lips against Gin’s shoulder and not so gently drew on the
heated skin, wanting to mark him.
“I wish to come.”
“I know and when I allow it, ‘twill be sweet indeed. Powerful. Lucky you will be to still
have your legs beneath you when it claims you.”
“’Tis torment.”
“No, ‘tis far from it. Enjoy the pleasure; embrace this need. You must learn to savor what is
done to you. Then mayhap, when the time is right, you will savor me instead of rushing. Do you
deny that, given the opportunity, you would just mount me, pump a few times and then roll
away, leaving me unsatisfied in all ways? No way is that to treat a man you claim as treasure.”
“But…”
“Much pleasure is there in giving another pleasure. In many ways, it doubles one’s own
pleasure to do such for your lover.” He tickled the feather over Gin’s prick once more before
slowly drawing it up along Gin’s chest.
“Then this pleases you,” Gin forced himself to breath, despite the freezing of his lungs, “to
do this?”
“Do you tell me that you enjoy not these sensations I create for you?” Torin nipped Gin’s
shoulder this time and then moved around him, so that he might watch the pirate’s face.
He swirled the feather around Gin’s nipples, one then the other, lightly drew it down the
center of his chest, his abdomen. A smile tilted up the right corner of his mouth seeing Gin
shudder, gasp.
“Do you answer, pirate: Do you deny enjoyment?”
“Too much sensation.” Gin started to step back, wanting to be away from that feather, from
those light tormenting touches.
“Do not move! You are to stay where I put you until either I end this or you say the
designated word.”
Gin stared at him, uncertain what to do. He was so hard he needed to come, but… “Ye said
not if ye enjoy…”
“I enjoy bringing you pleasure. I enjoy seeing the ecstasy upon your face, hearing your
gasps as each sensation embraces you. Yes, it does bring me pleasure. Lovers should enjoy
touching each other, prolonging the feelings they invoke within the other. There are times that
need overwhelms and only speed will do, but never would I leave my lover unfulfilled in such an
instance for it would leave me unfulfilled as well.”
Torin dropped his arm so the feather was at his side and, leaning down, used his tongue to
trace the line from Gin’s navel to the indent at his throat. He then gently blew on the wet trail,
eliciting another shudder, a choked sob from his lover.
“Again, do you dislike what I do?” He licked a nipple.
“Nae!” a sharp cry. “Fuck, Yeryl and Zasara, please!”
Torin licked the other nipple, nipped at it. He pressed tiny kisses up Gin’s chest and along
the side of his neck. He again sucked on the skin and, while he did so, brought the feather up and
brushed it along the bottom ridge of Gin’s cock.
Gin’s body jerked and froze, his balls drawing tight against his body, as he suddenly came,
his seed jetting out, landing upon Torin’s hand and leather jerkin, just missing the feather. His
head fell back and his mouth opened, and yet nothing emerged from his lips but a rush of air, a
silent roar. Tears slipped down his face as the pleasure engulfed him in white-hot licks of flame.
Torin watched, fascinated by Gin’s rush into orgasm. He had always loved watching his
wife come, the expression on her face, and this was no different. Seeing Gin come was pure
ecstasy. Yeryl and Zasara, he could almost come himself just from this incredible experience.
“Such beauty do you hold in this moment, pirate. Seeing you in this state, never could I
grow tired of it.” He pulled Gin into his arms and held him, brushed a hand over his face, his
hair; Gin trembled once more. “Lower your arms and return my embrace.”
* * *
As the pleasure eased and sanity began to filter through the glowmood, Gin could feel the
old need to move, to cover himself, but Torin only tightened his hold upon him. He tried hard not
to struggle, for he did like the feel of Torin’s arms about him, of being pressed against his
rounded body, but he could not stop himself from fidgeting.
“Torin.” Gin turned his head away, afraid to look into the eyes of his lover.
“Kiss me. Mayhap ‘twill ease your discomfort.”
“I need space.”
Torin was torn as to what he should do. Did he allow Gin to escape his hold or keep him
close? He knew that Gin would regret the loss of connection, but it had to be Gin’s decision to
stay. He dropped his arms to his side and watched Gin dart to the other side of the cabin, begin to
fumble with his breeches. “’Tis hurtful this rejection.”
Gin’s head snapped up, eyes wide upon the utterance of those words. “I…I do not reject ye.
I… My treasure ye are, never would I…”
“Run from me you have after each time you reached orgasm. What am I to believe in such
an instance?” He looked at the feather, noticed a small drop of Gin’s seed on the back of his hand
and was again tempted to taste it.
Seeing that Gin stared, mouth working as if searching for words to speak, Torin gave in to
the desire and, with a flick of his tongue, tasted Gin’s essence. A soft choked sound slashed
across the room, shock written all over Gin’s face upon the other man’s actions.
Torin smiled at the pirate, pleased. “’Tis salty and sweet your seed.”
Suddenly curious what Gin would do, Torin opened his breeches and freed his own erection,
the press of the hard length against the back of the buttons having become painful. Another
choked sound erupted from Gin’s lips and again when Torin began to stroke his cock.
“Mmmm, ‘tis your mouth I imagine upon me, suckling me deep.”
Gin could barely breathe as he stood feeling cemented to the floor, staring helplessly at
Torin and the hand slowly moving over the hard length of his prick. “Cease what…what ye are
about.”
“Only you are permitted to come? Methinks ‘tis unfair of you to say so. First you reject me
and now you would deny me my own release.”
“I-I…I do not reject ye. I…” Gin wanted to touch him, cause him to spill his seed, not
watch, but…
He stayed where he was, eyes trained upon Torin’s hand moving up and down the stiff shaft.
He licked his lips as he watched, hand twitching, unconsciously copying Torin’s movement as if
he actually were the one jerking Torin off. He was horrified, fascinated.
Gin jumped when he heard feet running, something creak. He looked frantically at the door,
then back at Torin. He summoned his shirt to his hand and quickly donned it. “Stop it.”
“No.” Torin slowly shook his head side to side as he grinned. Seeing Gin eye the door once
more, he looked over his shoulder to find the exact location of it and then leisurely backed up
towards it, prick still in hand. He leaned against the door and once more started stroking himself.
He was so aroused, even more so by Gin watching him. “Again I ask, why might you come, but I
may not?”
“Hurry then.”
“No. Why does this make you uncomfortable? The door is locked, none can enter.”
Gin rushed over to Torin, his hand reached out, thinking he would give him a few quick
pumps, make him come, but Torin stopped him, grabbing his wrist and flipping Gin around so he
was pressed with back against the door.
“What frightens you so?”
“I fear naught.”
Torin leaned in so that his lips pressed against Gin’s ear and spoke in a low voice, “Do not
lie to me. What is it you fear?”
“I am not a pervert.” Gin wiggled his body, wanting to get away, not wanting to face this
line of questioning. And yet he loved the feeling of Torin pressing into him, which only caused
him greater upset.
“We have spoken of this, pirate. A pervert you are not. You are not dirty for liking sex, for
liking the feelings it gives you, or those that I give you. If ‘tis discovery that frightens you, there
are none aboard this boat who would think you pervert either. If they were to come knocking
upon this door, they would not think what we do together odd. No, they would think we were
doing what comes natural betwixt two lovers.”
“Ye know not of which ye speak.” He clenched his teeth and looked away. He would not
hurt Torin by shoving him and so he stood with body stiff, wishing Torin to know this was not
welcome.
“I know much of which I speak. By your definition, I am a pervert, but if that were so, why
would you wish to have a pervert for your treasure? You have said that I am your treasure.”
Before an answer could be given, a knock interrupted them, causing Gin to jump, panic
wreathing his face. Gin put his hands against Torin’s chest, pressed, trying to get him to move.
This was bad.
“We are busy!” Torin snapped.
“Wait!” Gin yelped, but then composed himself, not wishing anyone to know his distress.
He looked at Torin. “I am capt’n of this boat, I answer the knock.”
“We are busy.”
“Nae, we are not. An hour it has been…”
“We are in the midst of a conversation.”
“Ye are in the midst of a conversation, ‘tis something I want nae part of. Now step away.”
Gin’s face pinched in anger. “I am capt’n of this boat and ‘tis me in charge not ye. Step away.”
“Very well, Captain, leave if ‘tis what you wish; run away like a coward.” Torin stepped
from Gin and turned his back to the pirate. Righting his breeches, his now flaccid prick secured
once more behind buttons and cloth.
“I am nae coward!” Gin’s hands fisted, his face flushed.
“Then why do you run away?”
“Capt’n I am of this boat, and hardly do I have any crew, I am needed…”
Torin waved that away. “It mattered little a moment prior when you spilled your seed. You
were most pleased to delegate responsibility then.”
“I am not a pervert!”
“And never have I called you one! I would not ever call you one, but it seems that you call
me one.”
“Do not put words within my mouth.”
“I need not put them there when you do so yourself. Always have I enjoyed sex. There are
hardly any aspects of it that I do not enjoy, and never once have I thought of myself as depraved
because what gave me pleasure may not be considered…” He searched for the proper word,
because normal was not the word he wished to use. “Typical. Just because the activity may not
be considered typical, means not that ‘tis wrong or perverted, nor does it mean that I am
perverted!”
“I…” Gin stood there clenching and unclenching his hands, not knowing what to say.
This was worse than dealing with Rum, because at least with Rum he could look within his
twin brother’s mind and understand his upset, or if needs be he could wrestle with him until their
tempers cooled. He would not lay a harmful hand upon Torin and he had no notion what Torin
was thinking or why he was upset.
“Ye put words within my mouth. Never have I said that ye are perverted. I would not say it.
All I say is that I am…not… Oi! Where do ye go?”
“You…” Torin shoved Gin out of the way and yanked open the door, spell about his hand
opening the lock, nearly running down Genna in the process as he was looking over his shoulder,
not where he was going. “Excuse me,” he murmured then returned to glaring at Gin. “This
conversation is not worth having when you know not what you even say. Do you not hear your
words?”
“I call ye not pervert!” Gin finally saw Genna standing behind Torin and his face burned
hotter than he could ever recall it before. “Oi! Do not walk away.” He rushed after Torin as he
continued his journey out of the cabin and was nearly midship by the time he caught up to him.
“Ye are not to walk away from me!” He grabbed Torin, banding his arms about the other
man, and carried him back inside the cabin.
Torin stumbled when Gin released him and then spun around. “But you may walk away?”
“I did not walk away. I stayed after ye called me coward for I am nae coward.”
“And I am no pervert.”
“Never did I think ye were.”
“Except that you did! ‘Tis obvious that you think yourself pervert for liking what has
transpired betwixt us and so that must make me one as well for enjoying our time together, for
enjoying bringing you that very pleasure.” Torin pulled his hair, frustrated. He knew he should
be more patient with Gin, especially since the signs of his intimacy issues were shining as bright
as the triplet moons—Gwyn, Yno and Tryn—when the three sisters were full globes together in
the night sky, but how could he not grow upset when Gin would not share the why of it.
“I reject ye not. I think ye not pervert. I do not…”
“Then why do you think yourself pervert?”
“I do not! I am not!”
“Then why do you think what transpires betwixt us perverted? You held no issues when you
thought to chase me, when you thought to fuck me, but the moment I chase you, the moment I
fuck you, ‘tis perverted. Why? How can I help…?”
“I need not yer help! Never did I ask for it, never would I want it! I asked not to be chased or
fucked. Ye took and forced it upon me and…” His words stopped when Torin’s face paled and
just as suddenly flushed full of color.
“Get out!” Temper exploding, pain ravaging, Torin physically shoved the pirate out the
wide open cabin door—Gin had forgotten to shut it—his palms ramming into his chest until Gin
crossed the threshold. He slammed the door shut in Gin’s shocked face and with the last of his
rage and all of the hurt Gin’s words had dealt him, he locked the door with a nasty bit of
spellwork.
“Open this door!” Gin grabbed the handle and suffered a horrible shock. Jerking his hand
away, shaking it, trying to stop the sharp jolt of pain, he… He knew not what to do. He reached
for the door again and watched purple light arc towards his hand, heard the angry snap of
electrical energy as it sought its target. “Torin…”
“When we make port, I am removing myself and my belonging from this cursed boat. I care
not where we drop anchor, no longer will I take passage with you!” He held his hand over his
heart as if trying to protect it from further harm.
“Torin…open the door.” Gin could feel everyone watching him, the sensation burning as
much as the shock Torin’s spell had delivered. “Ye act…”
He jumped away from the door when something crashed against it. The sound of Torin’s
bellow… He held no understanding of Torin’s anger, of why Torin seemed not to understand his
words.
“Mayhap ‘twould be best to give him space.” Genna stood behind the captain, uncertain
what she should be doing, biting her lip thinking she should not have offered him advice; feeling
her timing was completely wrong. Rune had asked her to get Gin, believing Jag needed to be
relieved from steering the boat so he could rest, but she was uncertain if she should; Gin
obviously was having troubles of his own.
“I am capt’n. Locked out of my own cabin I should not be.”
“You are a man who has upset his lover, it matters little if you are captain or not. Arguments
follow no hierarchy.”
For the first time since this journey began, Gin wanted his brother. Surely Rum would
understand what was going on, know what to say, how to handle this situation.
“Torin…” He reached out to touch the door, just to lay his palm against it and more magik
snapped.
Genna took Gin’s hand, he kept flexing it and it was bright red, and sent healing magik into
it. She refused to release it when he attempted to tug it away, when he narrowed his eyes at her.
“I only aid; your hand is injured.”
Gin took notice of the color of his hand, the rising blisters, and ceased tugging at it; she was
making it feel better. “Thank ye.”
“A nice bit of healing, Lemon.” Jasper looked over the other woman’s shoulder, nodded at
what she witnessed.
“Oh! Um…’tis only a minor spell my mother taught me. Anyone…”
“Mayhap anyone could do it, but only a Keeper can work it as ye do.” She placed her hand
on Genna’s shoulder, offered it a comforting squeeze. “Go to Jag and I will finish aiding the
capt’n. Tell the lad that he need only hold on for a moment longer; he will be relieved soon.”
“Yes…Aye!” Genna started to leave, but stopped. “You called me limon.”
“Nae, I called ye Lemon. ‘Tis what your name translates to. Lemon sounds much like limon,
but two different words they are. ‘Tis why the old tongue is the old tongue for much confusion
did it cause in its day with some words sounding similar but meaning something else and some
words meaning the exact same thing but sounding not alike. And then there were words that
never changed.”
“Then am I Lemon Drop?”
“Aye. ‘Tis plain to see my son twisted his endearment for ye around yer name. Go now, I
promise, shortly we will follow.” She watched Genna move off and smiled. It was easy to see
how much the younger woman had needed this adventure. She turned her attention to Gin, who
was staring over his shoulder at the door, heartache and confusion in his eyes. “He will forgive
ye.”
“I need not forgiveness. He…”
“Ye accused him of forcing himself upon ye, nigh raping ye. For a man like Torin, ye might
as well have driven a rusty dagger through his heart.”
“Ye know naught of him.”
“If he is aught like his father, aye, I know much of him. Besides, many know this not, but I
am Keeper; ‘tis my Sight that tells me all I need know.”
“He is not a Stone.”
“True, but he is from the House of Crash. They have their own version of the Sight; they call
it Reading. He knows there is much that bothers ye, that there is much within yer past that…”
Gin pulled his hand away and tried to go around Jas, but she blocked him. His brows
snapped together and he narrowed his eyes. “Why do those upon this boat think that they can tell
the capt’n what to do?”
“’Tis advice I offer. In need ye are of it.” She summoned his fleece-lined jerkin from the
cabin and handed it to him; it was too cold out on deck to be without for long.
“But ‘tis not something I asked for.”
“As stubborn as Old Bertun ye are.” She laughed when his lips pulled into a deep frown.
“Now that look, many times did I see it upon yer father’s face when he was put out with another.
Come, let us relieve Jag and I will tell ye all about yer papa. ‘Twill allow Torin’s temper to cool
enough so that ye might apologize.” And mayhap later she would speak with Torin; ‘twas
obvious he was not plying his talent properly if he could not see that he pushed too hard at Gin.
Jas dragged Gin away from his bespelled cabin door and pulled him up to the quarterdeck so
that Jag could go below and rest; Jag’s face was awfully pale. She pressed her hand to her
grandson’s cheek and tsked feeling the slight fever. She could see that Genna fretted.
“Below deck with ye, lad. Know I do that I overstep proper pirate behavior as I am not
capt’n upon this vessel, but I speak as yer grandmother and Keeper.” She looked at Gin. “Truly
he should rest.”
“Aye. Do as Mistress Stone has ordered.”
They watched mother and son descend from the quarterdeck. The nineteen year old kept
trying to stop his mother from supporting him, wishing to stand as his own man, and yet he was
unsuccessful in his endeavor, most likely not wishing to actually hurt his mother’s feelings.
“Papa was disowned by his family,” Gin growled once they were alone on the quarterdeck.
“Nae, he was disowned by Ethen, not the rest of us. Many times did I attempt to speak with
the old bastard about the matter, but…” Jasper shook her head, her eyes closed as an old ache
filled her. “So many regrets.”
“His or yours?”
“Mine. I know not what yer grandfather regrets or if he regrets.” She shook her head again
then stared out to sea gathering her thoughts. “Yer father was one of the finest men I ever knew.
Warm, caring… kind. That is not to say he would allow another to take advantage of him, but he
would do everything he could to aid another if they were in need. All without asking aught in
return.”
“More of an age ye would be with Papa than with Old Man tyr Vens. Or are ye the sort who
prefers men of experience?”
“For now, I wish to tell ye of yer father, not dig into my motivations for marrying yer
grandfather—nae longer are we married and so holds nae bearing. Ye are correct; Eltin and I
were of an age. I met Eltin when we were fifteen, the day he came to my father seeking proper
fencing lessons. Eltin had never believed the teacher his father hired was of any true talent.
Which was an accurate assessment. The teacher was proficient, even held a title of Champion to
his name, but only did he know the proper steps not the true feel. The teacher never would have
known what to do if engaged in a proper duel.”
“And yer father did?”
“Oh aye. My father was a fine swordsman and ‘twas rare the times Rolling Stone was bested
and those times were by my mother, Onyx Stone—fifth cousins they were if ye wonder about the
name. Nae, ye would not wonder about such so I will continue my tale. My father was quite
impressed with the way Eltin held a sword, a natural grace he had—‘twas always a pleasure
watching those two fence. Of course, each time Eltin was complimented, his face turned red.”
She rested her arms over her stomach, a smile upon her face as she recalled her memories of
those days. “Many a girl felt her heart tumble when Eltin was about, but never did he take notice.
Only was there Tarna, never any other. ‘Twas the same for her—her eyes only for him.”
Gin corrected the wheel, his mind trying to absorb what Jasper was telling him. “Mamé was
disowned as well.”
“According to Tarna, never did Bertun change his will and nae steps were taken to do so.
Only was he upset that she went against him and so said words he did not mean. She was his
daughter, his only child. Also did he hold hope that mayhap she would come about, change her
mind.”
“And when she did not?”
“He did. She made mention upon one of my visits that he had sent her several letters
wishing to come see her, to meet his grandsons, especially you. He was most excited to learn that
she had born a ryn Ferth son.”
“Did they…?”
“He died before they could. Many believe that Perta killed him to cease any reconciliation.”
“Then how did… How did the bitch and her son gain control? If ‘tis true, that never did
Bertun change his will, surely all that was ryn Ferth should have gone to my mother.”
“Aye, and it did, but then ‘twas not long later that yer mother and father perished, their boat
set upon by a vessel whose sails were emblazoned with a sunward twirl. I know not exactly what
transpired for Perta to take what was not hers, but by the time Ethen discovered all that went on,
she had taken ye and yer brother…
“I dislike to say that ‘twas too late, but there was naught that Ethen could do. That he had
officially disowned Eltin, it placed the tyr Vens in a disadvantaged situation. I suppose ‘tis one of
my regrets. I offered my aid, my father still lived at the time and gladly would have done what he
could to gain freedom for ye lads, but Ethen refused the aid of a pirate. I should have asked Papa
to do so without Ethen’s blessing, all that should have mattered was… I should have done more,
all that I could. I…” She shook her head. “There is naught I can change about the past as much
as I might wish it so and I have wished it greatly and each day.”
“Even could ye change the past, the old man would not have wanted us, in that ye are
wrong. In that he lies.” His face was stone with his conviction. Shaking his head when Jasper
thought to speak. “Nae, he wanted us not and did naught to retrieve us. There is naught ye can
say to make it so; I have proof.”
“Lad…”
“Nae, I have proof—he wanted naught to do with either me or Rum. None of ye wanted
aught to do with…”
“That is not so. There were those who did want ye and Rum about: me, Relond, Aden, Rune,
we wanted ye. Ye would have been loved, the both of ye would have been loved, mayhap not by
yer grandfather, but by everyone else. Now, enough of such things, ‘tis unchangeable and
mayhap things progressed as they should have for ye to be in this moment, to be helping Torin as
ye have.”
“Know ye aught of the boat sailing the sunward twirl? Aware Rum and I have been for some
time ‘twas that boat that attacked the one Papa and Mamé were upon, but never have we been
able to find it or the clan it belonged to. None that we questioned ever heard of such a mark.”
“My father looked, but found nae more than ye.”
“Fuck! I want to blame the ryn Ferths, but they hold nae such symbol.” He twisted his hands
on the wheel’s nobs, the rough wood leaving splinters in his flesh. “I hate that this information
eludes me. I think that did I find it, that mayhap Papa…mayhap he would see and be proud of
me, love me.”
“Eltin loved ye, lad, never doubt it. He was so proud of how strong ye were, how
adventuresome. Though ‘tis the truth he worried that ye loved him not.” She approached Gin and
laid her palm against his cheek. “Always were ye off running about, never taking the time to sit
with him.”
“Always was he making chocolate. That I was dirty most times, hating taking a bath, never
was I allowed in the workroom. I wished very much to play with Papa, but he…”
“Do ye say that he never spent one day with ye, just ye?”
Gin kept his eyes straight ahead. “Aye, there was one day a week that he made special for
me and a day that Mamé had special with Rum, but he had more fun each day with Rum in the
workroom. Papa never shared chocolate with me, never danced with me.”
“Ever have ye wondered if Rum wanted to play with yer mother the way ye did? To have
the type of relationship ye had with her? Yer father loved ye, nigh bursting his heart with it. Hold
nae doubts, ‘tis an insult to him to think otherwise.” Jasper laughed again seeing Gin frown once
more. “’Tis truly like looking at him once more when ye frown. Mayhap if ye darkened yer hair,
ye would see him looking back at ye in the mirror.”
She tilted her head to the side, her brow wrinkled, as she suddenly sensed another Keeper
aboard the boat.
“Is all well? Do ye sense a storm?”
“Nae, ‘tis…”
A woman with burgundy wine hair climbed the stairs to the quarterdeck. “Master Py, a few
words I have for you.”
* * *
Betrys appeared in the cabin with Jag and his mother, wishing to check upon the young man.
She had placed a locator spell upon him as she pulled him from his prison just for this instance. It
appeared Genna was attempting to help her son, but he was being stubborn, refusing to
cooperate.
Walking over to Jag she placed her hand on his cheek and pursed her lips a moment feeling
the fever. “It seems you over did it, young Master Stone.”
“Who are…?” Jag started to pull away, but then closed his eyes feeling dizzy. “What do ye
do here?”
“’Twas my hands that freed you from that holding cell, lad.”
“S-son, you know the High Keeper?”
“Who?” He looked at his mother.
“’Tis the High Keeper of all Keepers who stands before us. Only did I learn this today, as I
knew not that there was a High Keeper of all Keepers. I recall stories my mother told me of a
very strong Keeper, but…” Genna bit her lip, feeling foolish. “It seems I have not kept well to
the promise I made her. Before her death she asked that I study the books that we kept hidden.
Mayhap the knowledge of the High Keeper would have been in there. But ‘twas so very hard
going into the hidden room—too many memories did it hold of my mother and I missed her so.”
“All is well, Mistress Drop. It seems that there were those in Lynda who made certain that
the knowledge of the van Wyrn was kept to a minimum, and my actions, or should I say inaction
since becoming High Keeper did naught to stop the travesty.”
Genna could not help smiling at the referral to her pirate name. “I look most forward to
learning all I can. I do what I am able to aid those who fear the Keepers…”
Betrys shook her head. “It seems there is much work for me to reverse the actions of a few
bad seeds. It angers me I must admit.” She summoned a large bag and, kneeling down, delved
inside, searching for the supplies she needed to aid Jag, pushing hair back from her face as she
did so. Looking up suddenly, she snapped her fingers and removed his shirt, before returning to
her search.
“Oi!” Jag scrambled to find something to cover himself, wishing to hide the nasty bruises
covering his chest, especially hearing his mother’s horrified gasp.
“Tell your mother how we met, Master Stone. And cease your panic. In need I am of having
your chest bare to aid the healing process. Go on, tell her.”
He glowered at the van Wyrn then looked straight ahead trying not to feel embarrassed. “A-
an incident there was when first I set sail two years past. W-we were docked in Artezan’s Royal
Harbor trading goods… I am not certain what happened, but I found myself in a bit of a spot,
Watchers cornering me…though I knew not that they were Watchers until the van Wyrn
explained. Demanded they did that I tell them Keeper secrets or they would have me detained
under suspicion of cur piracy, but I could tell them naught as I knew naught. I tried to explain
that you were…Outcast, but they held no value in my words, thinking I lied.
“The van Wyrn strolled by with her daughter as these men became physical. She smiled at
them and they paled, but they did not leave, instead started urging each other to surround her;
they were three to one. She put her daughter upon a crate after the child asked if she were going
to teach the Watchers a lesson and just laughed. Next I knew, one attacked and became a purple
taod upon the ground rribting. The other…he ran, only to crash into an invisible wall, falling
unconscious. The third wet his pants and fell to the ground begging.
“Another man came, a fourth Watcher, but this one, of high ranking he was, and he had
several Guards come and escort the others away. He then thanked her for not doing worse to
them. I… He turned to me and apologized.” Jag wiped a hand over his face, not feeling very
well. “I owe you a second time for saving me.”
“Mayhap, mayhap not. As a Keeper I take my role to help those in need of aid very
seriously. As a Keeper, as the van Wyrn, ‘tis one of my greatest pleasures to torment the
fanatical Watchers. Lucky they were to be in public or worse I would have done.”
“But as a Keeper, how are you friend to a Watcher of high ranking?”
“Naru Bastan and I have been friends for many years, since our youth really. Always has he
been a man of honor, respecting my privacy as Keeper.”
Having all she needed placed upon the bed next to Jag, Betrys started the healing process.
She scooped up a thick, green-tinged cream on her fingers and started applying over his chest,
healing magik pulsing. She repeated this until she had a thin film covering his chest and then
applied a white cream in the same fashion. With that done, she wrapped his chest with a wide
bandage, healing magik already infused into the cloth to aid the applied medicine.
Smiling, she snapped her fingers and returned Jag’s shirt to his body. “All done. You are to
rest until the morrow’s noon hour, at which point your mother will check upon you, see how you
are healing. If she deems it, you are to rest for another day beyond. No excuses. Already have
you pushed yourself this day, causing strain to your severely bruised body. Or do you tell me you
enjoy feeling poorly?”
“Nae, mistress, but…there are only three aboard this vessel other than myself capable of
sailing it.”
“And they are capable of sailing it without you until you have been cleared.” She crossed
her arms over her chest and offered him a look that stated she would suffer no arguments. When
he shuddered and nodded, she smiled. “Good, prefer it I do when my patients agree with me.”
“You will need to teach me how to offer that look.” Genna looked on with amazement. “’Tis
a most amazing feat, High Keeper.”
Betrys laughed and pulled out fresh supplies for the other woman to rewrap Jag’s ribs, then
with a wave of her hand returned the bag home. “’Twill be my pleasure. A Keeper needs a good
stare or never would she be listened to.”
“Aye!”
Jag groaned at his mother’s easy adoption of the guttural parlance of a pirate. “Already do
you sound like him.”
“Good! If I am to live this life then I should speak it, be it; I am Lemon Drop. Heard you did
the High Keeper: you are to rest. Do I see you upon the deck before the allotted time…” She
narrowed her eyes at him.
“Aye, aye. I will rest.”
“Come along, Mistress Drop.” Betrys motioned her to follow and the two women left the
room.
Parting ways with Lemon Drop, the other woman rushing towards Rune, Betrys started up
the stairs to the quarterdeck. “Master Py, a few words I have for you.”
“Mistress Dragon!” Gin straightened, tried to look alive, though he was not so certain why,
other than this was Golden Boots heart-sister, the woman who defeated Green Ice a few months
past and summoned The Firedaimon to take Green Ice’s foul soul to The Firebreath, the High
Keeper of all Keepers.
“Not often am I called such, Captain.” She grinned at Gin’s reaction to her. She turned her
attention to the other individual on the quarterdeck. She knew coming up there that this woman
was Keeper, a fool she would be not to have felt her presence as she was making her presence
known. “Shadow Walker.”
Jasper went still seeing those eyes upon her. “Aye, High Keeper.”
“I find it odd, that you are a Keeper from Lynda and yet you did not bring the situation
regarding the Keepers there to my attention. Never tell me you were unaware of it.”
“I…” She stood tall before the van Wyrn. “I am Shadow Walker and so not part of regular
Keeper society. The Great Keeper had made it known, that while we were Keeper, we were not
welcome within her clutch of Keepers. That it has always been thus in Lynda, I would not see it
as strange.”
“I dislike this situation intensely. Mistress Drop should be Keeper and yet she is not. You
saw naught wrong with the situation, despite it always having been thus?”
“The Shadow Walkers of Lynda have always been solitary, meeting only at the Assembly.
‘Tis the way of it in Lynda. Is that not the way of it all over?”
“One would think that as you have traveled extensively…” Betrys ceased her words and
held up a hand. “Now is not the time for this, but know that I will be calling an emergency
Assembly in a few weeks time. I grow tired of being surprised.”
“Aye. Do ye call a separate meeting…? High Keeper, most Keepers are unaware of our
existence, only Great Keepers and those with whom ye confer know of us. If those unaware
discovered there were those of us…”
“There will be a separate meeting called beforehand, I have much to discuss with your
branch of Keepers, but I expect full attendance at the emergency Assembly as well. Now, as I
stated, this in not the time. I am here to speak with Captain Gin.” She looked at him, tsked seeing
the dark circle beneath his eyes. “Mistress Stone, most capable you are of sailing this boat, mind
you if I order the Captain below to rest for a couple hours? ‘Twould only leave you and Rune to
manage.”
“I mind not taking the wheel. In fact, I would enjoy it greatly.”
“I am capt’n.” Gin finally spoke up, petulant. “Fed up I am that all those aboard this vessel
seem to think they might direct me about upon my own boat!”
Betrys lifted both eyebrows. “Wonder I do what Boots would think were he to hear such
whining rushing from your mouth. Or mayhap Red? Certain I am did Captain Mack Boots
know…”
“Fuck!”
“One would think that as captain of this boat you would know when to listen to sound
advice. One would also think that with the mentors you have had, you would know well the way
a captain is supposed to behave.”
Gin sucked in his breath at the set down. There was nothing he could say to her, it was not
prudent to fuck with the van Wyrn. And she was right, did anyone from the House of Boots
know of his fit… “Longer have I been without sleep.”
“That you have two capable seafarers upon your boat, both more experienced with the way
of the sea than yourself…”
“Aye, I understand.” His hands twisted on the knobs of the wheel, wincing as he once more
dug splinters into his hands. “Gladly would I go to my cabin but ‘tis locked from within by my
treasure who apparently is most putout with me.”
“And by the look upon your face, you understand not why. Come along, there are other
places you may lay your head for a few hours while your treasure cools his ire.”
“Go on, lad. ‘Tis best to listen to the High Keeper or mayhap ye would enjoy yer time as a
taod or mayhap a slug.”
Another twist of his hands, but then he nodded, having heard from Capt’n Boots that the van
Wyrn could indeed turn an individual into a taod, and handed over the wheel to Jasper. “Do we
sail into a storm…”
Jasper narrowed her eyes, offering a steely glare. “Do ye offer insult?”
“Nae, I…” He snapped his jaw shut, unwilling to step wrong with one more individual that
day.
Gin followed the High Keeper from the quarterdeck and then led the way below, finding an
empty berth in the forecastle. Sitting down, he looked at his hands and cringed, and again upon
hearing the low tsking from the van Wyrn. When she held out her hands he did as asked and
allowed her to look.
“The red one, ‘tis the burn from Torin’s spell guarding the door. Both Mistress Stone and
Mistress Drop gave aid, but ‘tis still raw.”
Betrys summoned her bag and pulled out a white crock from within. He watched her remove
the lid and became horrified when she scooped out a sticky, dark blue cream. Certain the cream
would stain his hands he pulled them away and crossed his arms, hiding them.
“I can make you,” her voice was soft and even, calm, letting him make of her words what he
would, and then smiled when he once more presented his hands. She slowly applied an even
layer of the cream to each hand, then while waiting for it to dry, she explained what it would do.
“’Twill ease the pain and heal the wounds, dissolving the splinters as it works. And no, Captain,
it does not stain. Once it has done what ‘twas crafted to do, ‘twill peel off. Now, tell me of the
spell your Torin used.”
“It snapped with purple arcs of magik. After the first shock, when I brought my hand close,
it reached out towards me, angry, daring. ‘Tis not a friendly spell.” He looked at his hands; the
cream was becoming rubbery, which he had to admit disturbed him a bit, except that it was
easing the raw feeling.
He was also growing quite tired.
“Interesting.” Betrys eased the pirate down upon the berth, the medicine in the cream
beginning to take affect. “You angered him most grievously it appears.”
“I… I said something, but he thought I meant he was a pervert. Never would I say such
about him. I… He wishes to leave me now. Mayhap were I to promise to be good and…” His
eyes grew heavy and his voice became child-like. “I do not want him to leave. Mamé and Papa
left. Yelled at them I did because I wanted to sail too, but I had to stay because Stupid Ellis was
sick. They never came back because I yelled, because I allowed them not to sing to me, to give
me kisses goodbye.”
She brushed hair off Gin’s forehead, not surprised by his slight regression. The medicine
was opening doors Gin would normally keep closed. Emotion burned her eyes for the child he
had been, for the guilt he still carried. “Your parents were struck down at sea by curs, ‘twas not
their choice to leave you or your brother. ‘Twas not your fault they did not return.”
“But I wanted to go. ‘Twould have been a grand adventure and mayhap…mayhap I could
have saved them.”
“No. Had you been with them, you would have suffered the same fate and then where would
your treasure be? He would not have you to help him escape. And what of Ellis? Never could he
have survived your departure from this world. ‘Tis because of you he has become the pirate he
is. Never would he have met Red were you to have perished.” Which was not exactly true, but
Gin did not need to know that. “Your parents left you with your brother knowing well that you
would take fine care of him.”
“Stupid Ellis.”
“Now, now, ‘tis unfair to think such, especially when he loves you so, when he has worked
hard so that you would think him more than just your little brother. ‘Tis why he learned to fight
and steal; wished he did to impress you.” She drew two connecting circles upon Gin’s forehead
until they glowed bright silver as he drew ever closer to sleep, and then, with a finger in the
center of each circle, reversed their positions with a quick twist of her hand. “Sleep now, Master
Py. In need you are of rest and dreams.”
“Tell Torin not to leave. Good I will be.”
“I think such sentiments need come from you upon your waking, for I think then you will
understand the words which were spoken in anger and fear, and how they were received by your
treasure.”
“How?” it was a faint whisper.
“By experiencing it all through his eyes while you sleep.” She took the circles and dragged
them down over the pirate’s closed eyes.
Betrys waited until Gin’s soft snores rustled past his lips before taking her leave. She stood
on deck and enjoyed the sea air. She thought soon that she and Rayn would need to take a trip.
Pulling out of her thoughts, she smiled at Rune and motioned him over.
“High Keeper! Is all well?”
“Indeed. ‘Twill take some time to fix the situation in Lynda, but ‘twill be done.”
“’Tis a relief to know, though ‘twill be a long while before we return to Lyndian shores.”
“Of course.” She took a deep breath, once more enjoying the sea air upon her face, uncaring
that there was a bite to it. Of course after battling Green Ice in the Northern Seas, upon the
shores of Nortand this past fall, nothing could ever seem as cold. “Master Stone, I would suggest
you soon make port. I know you search out those who harmed your son, but in need you are of
gathering supplies and crew—you are dangerously low on both commodities. You need not a
large crew, but a few trusted individuals.”
“I will speak with my mother about the matter and gain her thoughts. High Keeper, I would
thank ye for forcing my nephew below. Mayhap after some sleep he will gain perspective upon
all that has happened.”
“We shall see.” She offered a secret smile.
“Did ye see my son while down below? He is well?”
“’Twas my original intent when I teleported to the boat, and yes, despite the bruises and a
mild fever, he is well. Though he is to rest at least until the morrow.”
“Aye, ‘twill be so.”
Betrys looked over her shoulder at the captain’s quarters and wandered over to see the spell
Torin had placed upon the door. Reaching her hand out, she felt the magik stretch towards her,
an angry sizzle accompanying it. She had to admit she was impressed. The spell was completely
under control, not wildly searching out prey, but waiting. It was not a vindictive spell, one that
continued to shock over and over without recourse, but would only attack if approached.
With a soft sound of humor, and slicing motion of her hand, she disarmed the spell, allowing
her to enter the cabin. She closed the door softly behind her and waited for the portly man busy
pacing to take notice of her.
She waited exactly one minute.
Torin stopped and stepped back, stumbled really. “Who…?”
“Betrys van Wyrn, Master eth Welex. Or mayhap I should call you Thunder Crash. Your
temper is much like your name.”
Torin worked his jaw as he stared at the woman with the burgundy wine hair and black eyes.
He was having trouble calming down enough to speak immediately, still angry, still hurt from
the argument with Gin. He had tried lying down on the bed, but he had been unable to shut off
his mind. Rubbing his hands over his already rumpled hair, grabbing the back of his neck, he
tried to force his mind to focus on something other than his emotions.
“High Grace…” He closed his eyes, opened them, and did so a second time, not quite able to
believe that the Dusalla of Telia stood before him. “What do you do here? How…?”
“The how means very little as does the what, but to resolve both questions in one answer: I
am High Keeper of all Keepers, ‘tis a simple thing for me to go where I desire, when I desire.” A
bit of an exaggeration, but not much of one—it was not always so simple a thing. “Ah, yes, I
forget, my title is nigh unrecognizable in Lynda. Worry not about it.”
Torin shook his head and laughed sadly. “I rather would worry about such than all else that
plagues me. I meant to return your correspondence regarding Master fel Lierg’s bloodstone
mine, but…” he waved his hands around indicating the boat, his circumstances, “I was
kidnapped by a pirate.”
“Ah, yes, one Master Ginger Py. So much potential; so many hidden doors.”
“He confounds me.” He started pacing once more, hands flapping at his sides. “I think one
moment that we are upon the same path, but then he… I mean not to push, but if I just knew the
cause to his issues, what he is about. If I just… I want so much to…”
“No longer be alone?” She finished for him.
“I miss having a companion. My Lara was friend as well as lover. I know well, I should sit
and wait, but I wonder, is it worth the heartache?”
“That is a decision you need come up with upon your own, but waiting for him to make the
move you seek ‘twould be my advice. It need come from him, the decision to release the past and
to embrace a life with you.”
“Hardly do I know him, why do I feel this way?”
“Did you not find yourself in a similar situation with your wife, this instantaneous desire to
be within her life, to have her within yours?”
“Yeryl and Zasara, yes! I knew the moment I saw her that I wished to have her as my wife…
though it took me much time to believe that she returned my sentiments.”
“But you believe Gin’s.”
“I… He called me treasure, said that pirates keep treasure. ‘Twas at face value I took his
words, but mayhap I should have held back and considered the situation more.”
“I think, my friend, that you are as in need of sleep as Master Py. I can see you think to
object, but allow me to aid you in slowing down your mind. As High Keeper of all Keepers there
is none better to aid you.”
“’Twould be of much help if my mind would just cease turning over for awhile.” He rubbed
his arm over his eyes. He was tired. He was hungry too. But he thought sleep would be best.
Feeling the Dusalla’s hand upon his arm, he allowed her to pull him over to the bed, be pushed
down upon the edge.
“Before you rest, what were your thoughts upon the bloodstone mine? I am most curious. I
heard they were of the darkest red with very few imperfections.”
The precious stones were quite the commodity because of their difficulty being retrieved
from a mine. Most bloodstones were no bigger than a small pebble and were found in small
clusters hidden within the darkest of caves.
“Oh…I…” Torin shook his head to bring his mind around to business. It was always a
pleasure speaking finances with the Dusalla, she had an incredible mind for it; most of her
ventures doubled and tripled in worth. “’Tis quite so about the quality, but I cared not for the
report I received from the outside source I hired. Apparently there are some unsavory aspects
about Master fel Lierg’s mining practices—little care and aid for those who excavate, the usage
of children to crawl through openings too small for adults.”
“’Tis a vile thing to use children in such a fashion.”
“Yes, indeed. That anyone would do such, that…” He thought of his own deceased child and
he felt a surge of fresh anger. “Every mind do I have to… The mine is within a poor country and
the government pleased to see any income, but…”
“I will look further into it and see if there is aught I might do.”
His brows lifted. “Is there aught you might do?”
“The van Wyrn I am. Mayhap Lyndian folks know not much of me, but most of the world
desires not to try my temper…at least not too often. Now, lay back, you are in need of sleep.”
She placed her hand on his forehead once his head touched the pillow, sending soothing pulses
of magik, detangling the thoughts crowding in his mind; opening a path for restful, enlightening
dreams to flow through.
“High Grace… I think Gin is a good man…”
“He is, but as I mentioned before, many hidden doors does he have. Never do you know
what you might find when opening one. ‘Tis my opinion that he needs open them all and cease
the surprises, but one cannot force such a thing.”
“Aye,” he whispered, his voice drifting off.
She decided against aiding Torin with seeing the situation from Gin’s side. If all went as she
hoped with Gin’s dreams, then Torin would understand Gin’s situation without need of her
interference. She looked down at the slumbering man and nodded once, satisfied.
“Why do you interfere, child?” Veshan, Master of The Everafter, stood at the foot of the
bed, his eyes engulfed by silver as he determined the situation, judged; it was what he did after
all.
“Lorro Veshan,” Betrys used the proper title for the High Guardian in his society as she
nodded her head in deference. “Do you then care not for what I do?”
“Never did I say, but I am curious what draws you into the situation betwixt these two men.”
“I do it for Kino. He cares greatly about Gin and Rum and wishes for the brothers to find
happiness with their respective treasures.”
“And they are incapable of finding such happiness upon their own?”
She laughed softly and moved away from the bed so as not to disturb Torin’s sleep. She
lifted a chair and carried it over to the window, quietly placing it down and just as quietly sat.
She waited for Veshan to do the same before continuing on with their conversation.
“Of course they are capable. Rum did so without my interference, but he is much different
than his twin. Gin is a man most tormented and knows not how to take the hand stretched out
before him.”
“You take many liberties because of who you are.”
She held up her hand, her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “Mayhap a little, but ‘tis not
as if I take their free will. I give Gin a dream. I have eased Torin’s mind so that he might sleep
peacefully.”
“And advice?”
“A Keeper I am, ‘tis a regular service provided. Now, why do you appear within the cabin,
worry written upon your face? Is Master eth Welex one of yours?”
The High Guardian looked toward the sleeping man on the bed. “One of the very few. ‘Tis
rare for our kind to have so few children, only do Dunlau and Larra Ayma match me in such low
number. Oddities we are within the Society.”
“And so you are more protective of those who descend from your children.” It was a
statement.
“Indeed.” The Everdaimon pulled his gaze from the bed only to stare out the window.
“Though I cannot say I have done well by this one. So much loss, so much pain and none of it
deserved. His wife worries so; afraid she is he will be consumed by his vengeance. She wishes
him to find happiness, not seek destruction. She did try to hold onto life after their child passed,
but her body was too depleted of strength from the long labor and an already difficult pregnancy.
Find a way to inform him that she had wished not to leave him, ‘tis something she begs of me
and I cannot deny her.”
“I am certain he knows, but when next I aid him, I will do as asked.”
“This dream you give Gin, what is it you wish him to gain from it?”
“In need he is of seeing how he hurt Torin with his fear and panic. Mayhap he will acquire
some perspective, mayhap he will realize that he needs take that hand offered to him if he wishes
to be the man he desires to be. I give him a dream, ‘tis up to him to make of it what he will.”
“Surely he can achieve this without experiencing this dream.”
“Mayhap, but with the dream much pain can be avoided by both men. With the dream they
can concentrate upon building their relationship instead of fighting the pain and confusion as
they stumble along without course.”
Veshan nodded. “Very well, I will trust in your actions. You are Dunlau’s child after all.”
Torin awoke several hours later, the noon sun bright in the sky, to find Gin’s blond head
rising ever so slightly above the edge of the mattress where the pirate sat on the floor, back
against the side of the bed. Almost against his will, his hand reached out and touched Gin’s hair,
threading his fingers through the soft, short length, gently playing with it. The time sleeping had
allowed him to calm, but it was more than that, he wanted to touch the rotten pirate.
Did he forgive him his words, he was uncertain, but Reading the situation he could tell that
Gin was contrite, that he had never meant to cause offense or hurt.
“Why do you have short hair when it seems most who sail the seas wear it long?” Torin
continued playing with Gin’s hair.
“’Tis easier to deal with, creating fewer tangles. I…” Gin rubbed his head against Torin’s
hand, relishing his touch, loving the affection in the gesture. How many times had he seen his
father play with his mother’s hair or she with his, smiles of love upon their faces? “I owe ye an
apology, love.”
“Gin…”
“Nae, please. In need I am of… There is much I need tell ye and…” He waited a breath and
then two before speaking again, nerves biting at him. “Never did I mean…” He shook his head at
a loss as to why he could not utter a full sentence. “Rum is the one who stumbles upon his words,
frozen with indecision, and yet here I am unable to speak the ones needed speaking.”
“Take your time, pirate. I go nowhere.”
“Never did I mean to imply that ye had raped me, that ye made me do aught against my will,
for ye had not, ‘twas always my choice. If truth be spoken—and ‘tis all I wish to give ye, love,
the truth—I liked that ye put me in such a position, that ‘twas…that it seemed ye made the
decisions, not me. ‘Twas then not of my doing and enjoy I could the moment without hearing
Perta declare me depraved and…and a disgusting little boy.”
Gin rushed to continue speaking feeling Torin’s need to investigate his declaration. “When I
was a young lad I discovered the fine feeling of touching myself. I liked very much tugging upon
my prick and did it often, sneaking away when I could to find a hidden corner; even more so
once I began spilling my seed. I used to wonder about other boys tugging upon their pricks as I
played with mine, wanting to watch them for ‘twas an exciting thought.
“That is until Perta caught me. The first time, the words, they meant little and did not hold
strong. But I think she started following me and… After she caught me a third time she began
calling me a dirty boy even in passing. When she caught me a fifth time…I was thirteen by then
and… I had ceased touching myself so much, but that day the need was…” Gin closed his eyes
remembering that day, hating that he was recalling it, but he wanted to tell Torin. He had woken
from his nap hurting from the words he had spoken earlier, his dreams having placed him within
his lover’s place, and knew he needed to share the why of his panic, especially did he desire to
keep Torin with him.
“I scrambled to right my breeches, my prick still hard, having been moments from coming.
My eyes burned as she once again called me a dirty boy and worse, perverted, disgusting, that I
shamed the ryn Ferth name. I tried to run by her, but she grabbed me and bent me over the
nearest object and struck my buttocks over and over. I…” He rubbed his hands over his eyes,
digging away the stinging tears. “I…came; the sensation of being struck more erotic than painful.
Again I tried to run from the room, horrified, sickened, but she grabbed me once more and…”
With his words trailing off, Gin felt Torin’s hand still, but then continue sifting fingers through
his hair as if telling him all was well.
“’Twas not hard to see the wet spot on the front of my breeches, she must have heard the
startled cry when I spilled my seed. Her lips twisted and the names once more spewed from her
lips. But ‘twas worse, for the look upon her face, in her eyes…’twas…” Gin snapped his teeth
together, clenched hard as he fought the memories, wishing to tell this tale without the visions
affecting him. “She reached out and circled the wet spot with her finger still calling me dirty boy,
filthy, perverted and vile, her breath becoming rough. She started becoming bolder, flattening her
hand upon me. I tried to move away, but ‘twas then that Doshan arrived.”
Gin ignored Torin’s gasp. “He…he laughed and said ‘twas what Perta liked: dirty, dirty
boys. He walked into the room and… He kissed her like a lover. Again I tried to run from the
room, but the door was locked by magik. I tried and tried to open it, openly crying, hearing their
harsh breathing, the rending of clothing. I ran behind one of the chairs and huddled behind it, my
hands over my ears, my eyes squeezed shut so tight I could see stars, but it ceased not the images
of them, the sounds of them fucking.”
“And because of this you believed yourself vile?”
“I came when she struck me!” Gin yelled. He jumped to his feet and began pacing, his hands
fisted in his hair, tugging. “Who is to say that I would not become…?”
“Did you wish to, to come in such an instance?”
“Nae!”
“Did it excite you to know that they fucked mere feet from you?”
“Nae! ‘Twas… It sickened me. I even vomited upon the rug.”
Torin sat up, his legs dangling over the side of the bed. He watched Gin pacing and had to
force himself to stay where he was when all he wished to do was to bring Gin into his arms and
comfort him. “I am most pleased to hear such.”
“What?” Gin spun to face Torin. “What mean ye?”
“That it sickened you, ‘tis pleased I am to hear it. Did you find it stimulating I would
worry.”
“But…”
“I will say this once more and then never will I speak of it again: There is naught wrong
with pleasuring yourself; ‘tis not wrong or perverted. ‘Tis naught wrong if you enjoy having your
buttocks struck, or if you find being tied up exciting. None of these things are wrong so long as it
transpires betwixt consenting individuals of age, that it offers no one harm.”
“And what of the other, that I…spilled from Perta striking my buttocks? A relation she was,
a…”
“A boy of thirteen you were. I recall well the suffering I endured from my prick hardening at
inopportune times, at inappropriate things. Times there are at that age when a boy’s prick just
spills its seed without provocation or from a dream of erotic nature. What happened to you, what
Perta did, was vile and repulsive…she was vile and repulsive, Doshan no better. ‘Twas an abuse
she dealt you and never was it your fault.” He could see that Gin trembled.
“After that day, smirk Doshan would each time we passed each other within the manor.
When he would threaten to tell Ellis…”
“Tell your brother what? Of the abuse?”
“Nae, that I was a horrid brother to him, that I took credit for any information he gave to me
about chocolate. I… All I had wished for was a relation like he had with Papa, and Perta was
nice to me when first we came to the manor and…”
“Did you threaten to tell what Doshan did with Perta if that bastard dared to speak with
Ellis?”
“Aye.” Tears fell. He dashed them away, horrified, but they continued to fall. When he felt
Torin touch his back, he turned and buried his face in the other man’s neck, his arms tight about
him, hoping Torin would hold him the same. “Leave me not. I will allow all ye do, nae
complaints, just…just stay.”
“Gin, only do I want you to want what I do because you like it, not accept it because you
fear I will leave.”
“Leave me not. I will be good. I…I…” He pulled away from Torin realizing that he was
begging and found himself staring at his reflection in the mirror above the washbasin. He
stiffened, but could not look away, could see the disgust in his eyes as he searched his own face.
His eyes were red rimmed and shadowed; there was golden stubble upon his face and was
already itching. He wanted to break the mirror into tiny pieces so never would he have to
encounter his reflection again. “I understand why ye would not desire to be with me. Why would
ye want to be with an ugly ryn Ferth?”
“I desire you very much and I understand not why you think yourself ugly—a very fine
looking man you are.”
“Nae. Ugly are the ryn Ferths and I am one. I have learned to shave by feel or by never
meeting my eyes in the mirror. At all times I try to avoid seeing my reflection because I cannot
stand to see it, to see the ryn Ferth staring back.”
Torin moved up behind Gin once more, but this time he splayed his fingers through the other
man’s hair, combing it back from his face as he chanted a few quiet words. With magik pulsing
about his fingers, Torin continued combing them through Gin’s hair, with each swipe darkening
it, layering color into it until it reached a fine, rich molasses—the color hair he remembered
Gin’s twin to have.
“What do ye do?”
“I make it so that you will no longer see a ryn Ferth within the mirror. If you like what stares
back upon you in your reflection, then gladly will I anchor the spell so that it continuously keeps
the color, darkening new growth as it sprouts. If you wish, I can connect the hair upon your face,
that of your eyebrows and the stubble upon your cheeks, upper lip, and chin, to the spell, so that
it too will always grow darker.” Which he then did by wiggling his littlest fingers. Gin’s lashes
were already dark and he did not add them to the spell.
“But…” Gin stood transfixed, his lips parted in surprise, as the visage he had always known
and despised disappeared and before him stared a man looking much more like Eltin tyr Vens. It
was not a perfect match, Gin could see the difference between his father and himself, that he had
his mother’s eyes, her nose, but no longer did he see the dreaded resemblance to the ryn Ferths,
to Doshan and Perta.
“Do you now see what I see? A man most handsome, one who is most kissable and…”
Torin pressed up against Gin, thrust his hips against his lover’s buttocks so that he might feel his
erection, whispered by his ear, “fuckable.”
Gin sucked in a quick breath when Torin’s lips pressed against his neck just below his ear,
felt and watched his teeth skim his flesh. A soft groan slipped from Gin’s lips when Torin
pressed further against him, allowing him to feel his soft body, his hard cock.
“Do you like what you see in the mirror? Do you like the man staring back at you?”
“Is this what ye see?”
“Never have I seen a ryn Ferth when my gaze is upon you; always have I seen this fine
looking man that you now discover. ‘Tis this man who arouses me so that I must give chase; ‘tis
he who induces lust within me so that I must take.”
“L-lock the spell. Never do I want to see that other face again.”
“’Twill hurt most sharply for it must embed within you, attach to your essence.”
“I care not! Nae longer do I wish to see that other face, only do I wish to see this one, to
have this one. Please.”
“Very well.” Torin pressed his fingers against Gin’s scalp, his thumbs against the base of the
skull and whispered the words that would lock the spell into place, allowing his lover to keep the
new hair color.
Gin clenched his teeth, but could not stop the hoarse yell as the pain Torin warned him about
struck and it was stronger than he anticipated. He gripped the edge of the washbasin, but
continued staring at the image in the mirror so that he would not fight the pain. This was what he
wanted; he wanted to be that man in the mirror. A new tear tracked down his cheek from his
right eye, then one from his left.
“Soon ‘twill end.”
“I…I am well. I am happy.” When the pain subsided and Torin removed his hands from
Gin’s hair, he turned about and kissed him, pulling him tight against his body. “My treasure…
My treasure has made me most happy.”
* * *
Gin was confused as he brought Torin out on deck. He was uncertain why his lover had
offered no attempt to be intimate with him after the spell locked and he kissed him. Had Torin
not declared him most fuckable? Stopping, Gin pulled Torin back under the eaves of the
quarterdeck, wishing a moment of privacy, deciding to ask why.
“Have you changed your mind then about going out on deck and allowing the others to see
your change in appearance?” Torin tilted his head to the side, curious. He was about to Read the
situation when Gin’s lips parted to speak.
“Nae, I wished to know why when I kissed ye, naught happened? Did ye speak false when
ye said I was…?”
“I spoke true, but a kiss need not always lead to sex.” Torin brushed his hand over Gin’s
stubbly cheek. “That we hardly know one another, mayhap ‘twould be best did we gain said
knowledge before further intimacies. I admit to moving much too quickly, wishing for a
connection that I have been denied these five years past.”
“Then nae longer do ye desire this connection?”
“I desire it very much, but also do I desire trust betwixt us. That our intimacy frightened
you…”
“I am nae coward.”
“’Tis not which I speak of. Each time we have enjoyed physical intimacy you dashed away
and…”
“I explained the why of it.”
“Indeed and methinks ‘twould be best did we take the time to grow close instead of rushing.
You need know that none will judge you because you desire to seek pleasure with me, that never
will I judge you. But, if you wish, mayhap this eve after we retire, we will play; something light
and easy.”
“Nae longer am I that ugly man in the mirror.”
Torin brushed their lips together, studied Gin’s reaction and was pleased to see him not look
about as if fearful of others looking on. “This eve we will put this new man to the test and see
how he enjoys our intimacy.”
Gin pulled himself to his full height, his chest out. “I-I am ready. I want…”
“We shall see this eve. For now, I wish to be on deck and to witness our small family’s
reaction to the captain’s new look.”
“F-family?”
“Are they not? Or do you consider them naught but bodies upon this boat despite the blood
connecting them to us?”
“W-we are not connected by blood.”
“True, but we are each connected to the others: you through the tyr Venses and me through
the syn Leths.” He touched Gin’s now dark hair, pushed it back from his face. “Do you ever
decide to grow your hair out, gladly would I aid you in caring for it, but I mind not this short
style, it suits your face.”
“Love…” Gin leaned into the other man’s hand wanting him to know that he liked what he
did, wanted such touches. He put his hand over Torin’s, pressed it against his cheek absorbing
the warmth. Turning his head, he kissed the palm as he had seen his father do with his mother so
long ago. He had never thought of himself as in need of such things, but having these moments,
these touches, he never wished to be without them.
Rune walked by then, unnoticed by either man. A pleased smile turned up his lips seeing the
look of rapt adoration on Gin’s face, the returning gaze upon Torin’s. ‘Twas how a pirate and his
treasure should be.
His eyebrows suddenly drew together when he realized there was something different about
Gin. “Yer hair!”
Gin jumped, startled, and spun around, his shoulders beginning to curl forward in dejection.
Realizing what he had done, he swore at himself, straightened his body. He was no longer that
man.
“’Twill take time, pirate,” Torin murmured. “No need is there to rush.”
He fisted his hands. “Nae, I wish not to react in such a manner.”
“But years worth of concern does not disappear within an hour’s time.” Torin placed his
hand on Gin’s back underneath the thick sea coat he had changed into wanting Gin to feel him
close.
“And it upset ye. ‘Tis not what I wish to do.”
“We will speak of this later.” Torin looked at Rune who still stood with furrowed brow and
smiled. “Is our captain not handsome with darker hair, cousin?”
“Yeryl and Zasara, never did I see just how much ye looked like Eltin. Always were there
hints of my brother about ye, but…” He shook his head, brushed at his eyes as if wiping away
dust. “If ye frown any harder, ‘twill be like the time I stole his best jerkin to pretend I was a
Jewel Age pirate—I was four.”
“Why would he be angry?”
“I ruined it when I tromped through puddles of mud. Plans he had to meet with Tarna that
eve and desired to wear that very jerkin, ‘twas a fine jerkin indeed, a deep green with exquisite
tooling. He wore it despite the mud stains and later returned with apologies. Tarna had thought it
sweet my stealing of his jerkin and Eltin would do aught to see Tarna pleased.”
Gin tilted his head back, looking up at the ceiling of the quarterdeck eaves wishing to hide
his emotion. He whispered hoarsely, “Thank ye…thank ye for telling me something of Papa.”
“I worshipped him, so all ye need do is ask and gladly will I tell ye about him.” Rune turned
away and went about his business, needing time to regain his own composure.
Torin palmed Gin’s cheeks and encouraged him to look at him. Seeing the emotion brewing
in his eyes, he kissed him, a slow brush of lips. “All is well.”
“Kiss me again.”
“Do I kiss you again, never will we leave this spot. No, methinks we would in fact return to
the cabin.”
“Aye.”
Torin laughed, caressed Gin’s face once more before heading from their secluded spot. They
would wait.
Gin grumbled beneath his breath and glowered once more at Torin’s back. He had wished to
explore Torin’s kisses—again—especially the slow sensual one that made his eyes cross. Instead
he was behind the wheel of his boat, steering through a persistent and rolling fog, now upon his
second shift. With the fog’s appearance the night previous, he had been kept from spending
much private time with Torin. He continued his glower thinking of the few minutes last he had
with him. Torin had found humor upon being interrupted. ‘Twas as if he enjoyed the tension
their lack of intimate time wrought.
Despite the delay at sea, they were finally approaching a settled island, lighthouse beam
circling, warning boats away from the island’s cliffs with each pass of its light. The sun had
dipped below the horizon though it was hard to tell much beyond that with the current lack of
visibility. He shifted his stance, squeezed his hand upon the knobs of the wheel. At least his
hands were healed.
“I was correct about yer looking like Eltin did ye darken yer hair.” Jas smiled, smug that she
was right, this being the first chance she had to speak with Gin since the day previous. The fog
had forced them all to keep even longer hours; she was soon to take the wheel once more after a
two-hour nap. “’Tis truly remarkable the resemblance. Though ‘tis yer mother’s fine sky-blue
eyes ye have.”
Gin remained silent as he continued staring at Torin’s back. He shifted again because staring
at the other man, his rounded form, thinking of that last kiss, remembering the feel of him
pressed tight against his back, was causing his prick to fill.
Fuck, he ached, needed release. He desired to feel Torin’s hands upon him, tormenting him
with pleasure.
Jas shook her head and turned her attention to the dense gray mist surrounding them, trying
to recall just where the port for this settlement was. How long had it been since last she docked
there?
“Should there not be a bell ringing, guiding us toward port?”
“Are ye always this surly without a proper meal filling yer belly?” she asked, considering
using her magik to find their path, because there should be a bell to guide them. She pulled her
knit cap further down on her head; she hated fog. Her brother had perished in such fog.
Fucking fog.
Gin could only wonder when he last sat down to a full table of food, his stomach sated. Yes,
he had had the bit of meal with Torin after his lover bathed the day previous, but beyond that…
He tried to think, but he could only recall quick bites. “Longer have I been without food.”
During those nightmarish two months he and Rum wandered about after the ryn Ferths
chased them away, as they followed the coast of Lynda, Mythek and Elaquin before Red had
found them, there had been days between meager bits of food. And usually those meager bits had
been dug from refuse bins and discard piles and shared with his twin. Food had been scarce and
precious, consumed greedily.
After Red took them in, he had always tried to be grateful for the food before him, always
tried to keep his belly full without turning into a glutton. He knew Rum had done the same,
though he suspected that Rum ate not as much as he should at times.
“Aye, lad, but when there is food about, ‘tis best not to skip meals. Torin, mind ye searching
the galley so the capt’n might ease the grumble in his belly?”
“Of course.”
“Mistress…” Gin began to protest.
“Mayhap we have not much in store, but there is enough to cease yer pinchy mood.”
“Besides, pirate,” Torin walked over to the stairs leading down from the quarterdeck, “we
soon make port to rectify our low stores.”
He looked at Torin, and with a sigh, nodded. It was unfair that he took his mood, his
frustrations, out upon the others. Gin wished to ask for a kiss before Torin went below, but he bit
his tongue, uncertain if he should. Was that something lovers did? Would Torin even
accommodate him? Now that Torin was determined that they take things slow…
Fuck!
“Torin…” he called, voice hoarse, “a kiss I would have before ye go.”
“Would you?” The right side of Torin’s mouth curled up.
“Aye.” Gin kept eyes on his treasure, ignoring Jasper, feeling her gaze upon him. The new
man in the mirror would not care what anyone thought. Besides, had his father not asked the
same of his mother when she would leave the room, had she not asked it of his father?
Torin walked over to Gin, gently gripped his chin and did as bade, kissing the pirate briefly
upon the mouth. “Return your attention to the sea while I find you a quick meal.”
* * *
The Bellowing Bovie, Thesop Island, Far Eastern Seas
Jasper, pretending not to feel nervous, walked into the dockside tavern with Gin and Torin
behind her. Rune had stayed upon the boat with Genna to keep watch—Jag was still resting,
though he was grumbling about remaining below while they were in port, especially considering
he had rested the full time ordered by the High Keeper. It had been so very long since Jasper had
been out as a pirate, the story of her last known action having grown into legend.
She was certain there were those still about she could count as enemies. There were also
those about who thought she was the sort intent on harm. She hoped that there were those still
around who she knew as friends.
The tavern had not changed much over the years, the rough-hewn plank floor was still
scarred and stained with spilled ale and other spirits, the walls were just as scarred with gouges
from daggers and cracks from driving fists, the tables and chairs looking to be upon their last
legs. The bar at the back of the building was the only anomaly, lovingly polished and repaired by
the bald headed, eye-patched barkeep.
The only change to the tavern appeared to be a small stage off to the side where a small band
of musicians might play on a lively night.
“Gin!” a young man’s voice rang out in the slowly filling room and rapid footfalls followed.
“Fuck, Gin! Pleased I am to see ye. Is Uncle Boots about? In desperate need I am of speaking
with him.”
Startled out of his own observations of the tavern, Gin looked about and found young Gator
Boots, named for his grandfather’s deceased elder brother, rushing towards him with enormous
relief written upon his face. The lad would be upon his twentieth year if he recalled correctly and
by rights should not be upon this island without his captain. The House of Boots was quite
protective of their youth. “What do ye do here, lad?”
“The old bastard left me!” Gator stopped in front of Gin, his hands curled into tight fists
thinking about what happened. “Only was I ten minutes late and already was his boat
disappearing upon the horizon.”
“Capt’n Rig left ye?”
“Aye!” Gator looked around the room, his face pinched with anger; hurt was a spiked ball
lodged deep in his chest. “The last week I have been here, sweeping and doing odd jobs to keep a
roof above my head and food in my belly. I know Papa has his difficulties, but… Far from port
he was, farther than he should have been if he had sailed upon the stated deadline.” He shook his
head, took a deep breath to regain control of his emotions. “Is Uncle Boots with the boat then?”
“Nae, my own boat do I have now.”
“Fuck!” He spun and punched the air several times, his light auburn braid swinging wildly
as he expended the energy.
“Now, worry not, lad.” Gin slung his arm over the young man’s now hunched shoulders,
offering companionable comfort. “It turns out I am here looking for crew. Would ye be
interested in sailing with me?”
Gator stilled. “Finish my fostering with ye?”
“Nae, be a full member of my crew. Almost of age ye are now and a Boots—methinks ye
ready.” Looking at Jasper and Torin, he raised his brows silently asking what they thought.
Torin crossed his arms, tilted his head to the side and Read the situation. Liking what came
to him, he smiled and nodded. He then looked at Jas as well.
“Ye know this lad well then, Capt’n?”
“Aye, since he was but a child. A fine sailor is he, but then most from the House of Boots
are. Taught they are to work hard and never shirk their duties. Is that not so, lad?”
Gator straightened, shoulders back and chest out. “Aye!”
“That he searched out honest means for food and shelter speaks well of his character.” Jas
walked up to the young man and wrapped her hand about his arm, testing for strength as she sent
a tiny swirl of magik coursing through him. “He seems most fit.”
“Who are ye?”
Gin popped Gator on the back of his head for his rudeness. “Watch yer tone, lad. ’Tis my
gran, Jasper Stone, ye speak to.”
Gator’s light brown eyes widened as he jumped back, his hand searching for the hilt of a
sword not strapped to his hips. Coming up empty he looked around for a weapon. “Ye sail with
such a woman, Gin?”
Brow drawn with confusion, Gin looked at Jasper then back at Gator, thoughts of tackling
the other man and thrashing him for behaving in such a manner, certain that if Gator had had his
sword at his waist he would have drawn and attacked. “Aye. Did I not make clear that she was
my gran?”
“Ye claim the cur who took Papa’s eye as blood?” He finally summoned his sword to his
hand but just as quickly found himself face first against the closest wall, sword taken from him
as his arm became twisted behind his back.
“Nae cur am I.” Jasper leaned in, wishing not to shout. “’Twas an accident that yer papa lost
his eye, as never did I mean such harm. ‘Twas an ugly day thirty years past at Qeltic Isle, and
much happened that never should have. Could I take back what transpired, harming Rigger Boots
would be one of them.”
“I believe ye not.”
“’Tis easy enough to tell.” Her voice softened, filled with great sadness. “Again, never did I
mean yer papa harm, my son was in danger and all that mattered was returning to his side.”
“Release me or do ye think to maim me as well!”
“Nae, lad. I mean nae harm to ye unlike yerself who wishes to attack me.”
Gin sighed. “Gator, if ye wish a ride back to Ganos, in need ye are of dealing with my gran
as part of my crew.”
“How can ye recognize a…?”
“She is mother to Master Stone who is an uncle upon my father’s side, do ye say he is a cur?
If ye recall, always has he been kind to ye, showing ye that trick for cheating proper at cards
while Rig was too busy feeling bitter to be yer papa. Ye were eleven, aye?”
A choked sound of rage, pain escaped Gator. “Speak not of my father so.”
“Was it not Rune who taught ye the correct way to lift a dagger after ye had been caught by
that fisherman? Was it not Rune who taught ye how to defeat yer older brother when it came to
tussling? Before always had Sliq thrashed ye well, always were ye sporting blackened eyes, split
lips, and bloody noses. Methinks that ‘twas Rune’s ma who taught him these things, taught him
the proper way of being pirate allowing him to teach ye. Do I assume right, Mistress?” Gin eyed
Jasper, saw the distress in her eyes at having to treat Gator in such a fashion.
“Aye, as my papa and my ma taught me, as they were taught by their parents. Always has it
been the way for the House of Stone to teach.”
“Lad, do ye recall naught of the time when Rune rescued that young girl surrounded by
those lads intent on vile acts? Were he a cur, were he descended from such blood, never would
he have aided her. Ye know this well.”
Jasper stepped away from Gator and held her ground as he spun to face her. “’Tis yer
choice, lad. Nae harm do I mean ye; nae harm did I mean yer papa. Had I meant it, had I desired
it, doubt I do that ye would be here this day.”
“Ye took his eye and never has he forgiven ye. He wears a patch to hide it, but ‘tis easy to
see that it pains him. Days there are when he…” Gator ground his palms against his eyes,
emotion overwhelming him. “A papa should not leave his son when he is only ten minutes late.
A papa should not ignore his child, yelling at him when he is hurt and searching for comfort. My
mamé died when I was five and many times I have oft wondered had it not been for Grandpapa,
would I have been left in an orphanage?”
“Truly am I sorry. Could I take it back I would. Could I make it up to ye, to erase yer hurt,
‘twould be done in a trice. ‘Tis easy to see that a fine young man ye are, wishing to please,
working hard when most would have sought the easy way. Please, allow not what transpired long
before yer birth to affect yer life so. Sail with Gin as yer capt’n. That he is only now forming his
crew, a fine ranking ‘twill be yers.” She stepped up to him, took his face in her hands and
murmured soft words of comfort; it was easy enough to see how much he needed such things,
had been denied them. Would he allow it, she would embrace him.
“Did ye truly destroy the port with magik?”
“Nae less than what was deserved. My lad was ten when curs dared surround him, weapons
drawn with intent to kill. Only ten. Do ye tell me ye would do naught to save him were he a lad
of yers?” She hooked her arm through his and brought him over to a table, no longer wishing to
discuss that long ago day when her son had been in danger. She sat him down, motioning Gin
and Torin to do the same. “Now, point out those ye think trustworthy to the Capt’n so he might
gather a crew.”
“Aye, ‘twould be a great help.” Gin waved over a serving wench, thinking a tankard of ale
was in order. He looked at Jas wondering why she had as of yet to take a seat. “Do ye leave us
then, Gran? I had hoped for yer opinion.”
“Wish I do to see if there are some old friends about. I will return soon and will give any aid
I can.”
Gin nodded. “Much luck in yer search, Mistress Stone.”
“Thank ye, Capt’n, and much luck to ye.” Jasper wandered off towards a different part of the
tavern certain she saw a familiar face.
After the order for ale was given, Gin lounged back in his chair to study the growing crowd
in the tavern. It was already a lively room with ribald jokes and laughter; a man in a tatty coat
was singing drunkenly at the bar. Someone with a guitar was in the corner attempting to tune the
instrument in the rising din.
“Where is Master Stone?” Gator stared at his hands. He wanted to be part of Gin’s crew, but
he worried what his father would think did he learn he sailed with Jasper. Not that it should
matter since his father had sailed off without him. And was he not a man grown? At the age of
twenty should he not be old enough to make his own decisions? Yeryl and Zasara, all he had
ever wished to do was gain his father’s approval, to see his father look upon him with pride.
Fuck! He had to realize that it would probably never happen. Rigger Boots was an angry and
bitter man, allowing the taking of his eye to rule his life. Red Boots had tried over the years to
comfort Gator, to tell him that Rig’s actions did not reflect upon him, that Rig was the overly
prideful sort. Red always told him to be his own man, to find the rules that would guide his life
and stick to them, and to act honorably.
If he were truthful with himself, Red had always been more father to him than Rig, and it
would be best to seek Red’s approval instead. Aye, he would, from that moment, seek to make
his grandfather proud.
“He guards the boat with his treasure and their son.”
“He found treasure?”
“Aye. A fine woman Lemon Drop is, and most willing to learn the way of the sea. His son, I
am told, desires very much to capt’n his own boat one day; he finishes his fostering with us.” Gin
motioned to Torin. “This is my own treasure, Torin eth Welex.”
“I am told my name translates to Thunder Crash.” Torin scratched his chin, thinking his
beard was growing in nicely. He too looked around liking the feel of the tavern. Spotting the
stage, he asked, “Do you dance, Gin?”
“I enjoy a good stomp. Do ye wish to dance, love?” Gin smiled, liking the idea of dancing
with his lover.
“Mayhap after we find crew.”
“The musician in the corner, Streaker,” Gator motioned towards the man still tuning his
guitar, “a fine player he is and plays most requests. He is also a fine cook, occasionally aiding
the barkeep when the barkeep’s son is too drunk to do so. Is that the only reason ye stop this
way, to search out crew for yer new boat? Certain I am that Grandpapa would wish to aid ye fit
yer boat with those loyal to ye.”
“We were just in Lynda, ‘tis where I gained my boat, and now make our way north
searching for The Mistress Grey with desire for vengeance. I look not to gain full crew this
voyage, so mayhap upon our return, Capt’n Red would still desire to help me complete the
chore.” Gin nudged Gator. “Ye worry so, ‘tis easy to read upon yer face. I am most pleased to
have ye as crew upon my boat.”
“Ye are?”
“Aye. A Boots ye be and one taught much by Capt’n Red himself. Always have I felt that
Red was the finest of sailors, the best pirate upon the sea. He is a man who holds my greatest
respect and deepest admiration. He took Rum and me in when most turned away from a pair of
dirty, starving orphans. Like a father he has been to us and I will always love him as such.”
“Aye.” Gator nodded, emotion pooling in his eyes once more. “Aye. Grandpapa is the finest
of men.”
“Then ‘tis settled and agreed, Master Boots. Now, think ye Streaker would be interested in
sailing with us? ‘Tis always good to have a cook aboard.”
“Let us ask.” Gator whistled and motioned for Streaker to join them, holding up his tankard
of ale as an offer. He then signaled to the barmaid to bring over another tankard.
Never one to pass up a free drink, the lanky, light-haired man climbed to his feet and crossed
the room with long strides. Accepting the tankard from the pretty wench, he sat, his guitar at his
side. “What can I do for ye, lad?”
“I thought ye might be interested in new adventure.”
“Oh?” Streaker looked at the others sitting at the table. “Is there new adventure about?”
Gin sat forward, rested his arms upon the table, but then eased back; the tables were not
particularly clean. “I am putting together a crew and young Gator tells me ye are the trustworthy
sort.”
“That is pleasing to hear, I must say.” Considering his past.
“He also stated that ye have a fine hand in the kitchen.”
“Food is just another means of expressing the creative side of my soul. In need are ye of a
cook then?”
* * *
Jasper approached the darkened table at the back of the tavern expecting the face to change
with each step nearer. Years it had been since last she had seen him, he a young lad still growing
into his rapidly developing young body. Seeing that it was indeed her former boatswain, she sat
down across from him and stole the roll of parchment from his hands.
Her brows flew up seeing what had been written. “Master Drum, such serious business.”
Bass Drum’s lips curled upward seeing his former captain and easily slipped back into the
rough parlance of the pirate. “Jasper Stone, what brings ye this way?”
“I could ask the same of ye.”
Laughter danced in his brown eyes. “But I asked first.”
Jas nodded towards the table where Gin sat with Torin and Gator. There appeared to be a
fourth individual to have joined them, a man with a guitar. “My son’s nephew begins to gather a
crew for his newly acquired boat.”
“And where be yer lad?”
“He watches the boat with his treasure and their son.”
“’Tis a family outing then, aye?”
“It appears so.” She wiggled the parchment. “What is this about?”
“A man of law I am now and that document is an action being pursued on behalf of my little
brother. Attempts he does to collect payment for dynma stones sold in good faith, but they
accuse him of selling false dynma stones.”
“Did he?”
“Nae,” he pushed his long tail of sandy brown hair back over his shoulder, “’tis a fat
merchant who wishes to gain something for free.”
“Do ye say then that ye hold nae more desire to sail?”
“I desire every day to sail, but never have I found a capt’n worth sailing for.”
Guilt weighed heavy on her heart and all humor fled. “Or did my actions keep ye from
finding a legitimate boat to sail upon?”
Bass laughed. “Now, Capt’n, there be naught legitimate about being pirate.”
“Allow me to rephrase, ye rotten scoundrel. Would only curs take ye as crew? I would have
the truth, lad. Did I…?”
“For most who sailed with ye, yer actions were justified; yer son was in mortal danger. I
would have done the same had Rune been mine, as would any other nae matter if they say
different. If truth be spoken, always have I believed ye were set up, put in a position that would
allow yer enemies to claim ye cur, to create excuse to attack without recourse.”
“I had wondered myself, but never have I been able to determine who may have done so.”
She shook her head, pulled on the silver-laced braid hanging over her shoulder.
“Capt’n, ‘tis easy to see that day has worn on ye. Hardly did ye sail afterwards, soon
disbanding yer crew once those daring the attack were nigh eliminated. ‘Tis a shame really. A
fine capt’n ye were, a woman who understood well the moods of the sea.”
“Still ye answer not my question.”
“Nae, yer actions were not what kept me from the sea. I was needed home and made the
decision to landlock myself.”
“Are ye still needed? The lad there, Gin Py, in need he is of trusted crew. My son speaks
highly of him as a seafarer, one long overdue to hold the title of capt’n.”
“’Tis a name I am unfamiliar with.”
“One of Whiskey’s lads he is, and taught the way of the sea by the House of Boots.”
Bass rubbed his chin, thinking. “’Tis a fine pedigree.”
“Aye, so ‘tis. Unless ye say the law holds more interest for ye?”
“Do ye ask me then?”
“Aye, I ask.” Jasper handed the parchment back to Bass then sat back, waiting to see what
the man said.
“’Tis all I needed to hear.” Bass rolled the parchment and tied it with a bit of ribbon. “A
Keeper friend of mine said that did I sail to this isle upon this day that I would find what would
make me most happy. That ye once more take to the sea, gladly will I follow.”
“And what of the situation with yer brother?”
“Mayhap if ye mind not finding The Mistress Grey, I can find the merchant and change his
mind for him. The boat, she is reportedly not far from here.”
Jasper laughed, a hearty sound that had others in the pub looking her way. “Consider it done,
for ‘tis that very boat we search for as well. Thoughts they had of stringing up my grandson
under false testimony and the House of Stone holds not with such treatment of our own.”
Before Bass could offer answer, a dagger was jammed deep into the table, a boney hand
holding its grip. Jasper looked up to see who interrupted her conversation and all the laughter left
her face to be replaced by disgust, rage beginning to simmer. The one man she had been unable
to find thirty years ago, but at least he still bore the scars she gave him on Qeltic Isle: a face full
of magik for daring to attack her son.
“A cur we have amongst us, lads!” Snake Skyn bellowed.
“Ye call me cur, ye ugly vile bastard? Ye who attacks children.” Jas stood, magik sparking
around her hands as she reached for her sword, deciding she would finish what she started. “’Tis
the House of Skyn who is cur.”
Suddenly Gin was standing there his arm seeming to be casually draped about the cur’s
shoulders, except it was anything but as he had his dagger digging into the man’s throat. Were he
to move his hand in a deliberate fashion in either direction, blood would rush from a gaping
wound.
“Am I mistaken or did ye call my gran a cur? I must say, ‘twould be a terrible thing did ye
offer her such insult. What say ye, hmm?”
“Who…who are ye?”
“Gin Py, adopted son of the House of Boots. Capt’n Mack taught me well never to suffer a
cur and methinks ye are cur.”
It was a barely imperceptible move on Gin’s part, a slight shift of weight, but suddenly a
rivulet of blood ran down Snake Skyn’s throat to soak into his shirt.
“Oi!” The cur blanched, his yellow skin turning even more sickly in color, and attempted to
move away, but the movement created further injury and soon the rivulet was more than a
dribbling but flowing freely. “Nae problems do I have with ye.”
“Ah, but ye do. That ye thoughtlessly called my gran a cur created just such a problem. Now
if ye were to offer a fine apology, I might be convinced to forgive the insult.”
“She…she killed me brother, Rhino Skyn, fer nae reason other than sport, nae apology do I
owe.”
“Ye lying…” Jasper surged forward ready to gut the vile cur for his words.
“Again with the insults.” Gin pressed the dagger harder against Snake’s throat. “’Tis almost
as if ye wish to die this eve. Gladly would I aid in yer endeavor, but rather would I not get blood
upon my new boots and so offer the gift of a second chance. Do ye apologize?”
Torin, who had been closely watching since Gin abruptly left the table, stood seeing another
pirate sneaking up and shouted, “Gin, behind you!”
Gin felt the presence just as Torin yelled, felt the press of a sword against his back and
laughed. “Is this mayhap the brother who was killed for sport?”
“Think yerself safe?” Rhino Skyn growled.
“Nae, I think ye fool.”
Red misted her vision seeing Gin in such a precarious position, the only acknowledged
thought: her family, Eltin’s son, was in danger. Reacting before anyone else could, Jas
disappeared in a flutter of shadows, reappearing right before the pirate who dared threaten Gin
and sent the cur flying across the room with a fist swirled in blue magik sinking into his gut.
She followed the other man intent on harming him further, dodging those who thought to
stop her by skimming along the edge of Shadow.
Shadow: that place all folks slipped through briefly when teleporting, but only Shadow
Walkers could truly enter and traverse the void for any length without harm.
Jasper cared little what went on around her, ignoring the sounds of the tavern crowd
changing from lively fun to outraged brawling. Her target saw her intent and scrambled to his
feet remembering that same look upon her face thirty years ago at Qeltic Isle.
“Fuck!” Gin slammed Snake’s head down onto the table twice, thrice, four times and then
released him, pleased that he fell to the floor unconscious, and rushed back to Torin’s side to
protect him from the exploding clash of pirates and other town folk. He pulled Torin against his
side and began circling with him towards the door. “Worry not, love, nae harm will befall ye. I
will allow nae such outcome.”
“Is this usual?”
“For pirates, fighting is like breathing. Gator, methinks ‘tis time to leave!”
“Aye, Capt’n.” Gator stumbled back from a punch to the jaw from a female pirate, but
quickly righted himself and blocked her next attack. “Meet ye there in five. I expect ye to still be
anchored.”
“Aye, lad, not leaving without ye. Streaker, if ye wish to join my crew, ‘twould be best to
gather yer belongings…now.”
Streaker laughed as his foot met the abdomen of a bulky pirate in full charge; he wished to
protect his hands and the guitar now strapped to his back. “Aye, capt’n! What is the name of yer
boat?”
“For the time, Tropic Swirl.” Gin eased ever closer to the front door, pulling Torin out of the
way when a man went flying through the air in front of them and his assailant rushing after,
following, wishing to continue the fight. “Gran!”
“Busy!” Jasper yelled and kicked Rhino where he lay curled up on the floor. “Hunted ye
down proper I should have, ye…”
“Nae, we leave now!” He turned with Torin tight against his side and was forced to an
abrupt halt by a larger looming pirate with scars ripping down his face. Gin tilted his head back
and whistled. He, himself, was not a small man, standing a couple inches over six feet, but this
one, nigh as large as Argos’s Funt he was and just as wide. “A sizeable one ye are, lad. Torin,
mayhap…” Gin blinked, his words cut off, his attempt to place Torin behind him ceased, as
another pirate spun the giant around and smashed a barstool in the giant’s face.
“Name be Bass Drum, Capt’n.” A broad grin accompanied the introduction as well as
another swing of the solidly built barstool into the still standing giant pirate. “Yer new…”
another swing, “bo’s’n.”
“Aye?”
“Aye! Friend I be to Capt’n Jasper. ‘Twas me she spake with before the interruption.”
“Very well, then. Finish up here and meet at the Tropic Swirl in a trice.”
“Did ye name her, sir?” Bass continued battering the giant pirate with the stool, but his lips
twisted with a hint of distaste.
“Nae, but I will be changing it.” Gin started pulling Torin towards the front door once more
when again he was forced to stop seeing Guards striding into the chaos of the tavern. “Fuck! In
need we are of finding another exit.”
“And what of just teleporting?” Torin looked about the room, cringing as various patrons
pounded into each other. No wonder the barkeep held little regard for the tables and chairs, they
were always being broken during brawls and in so observing, Torin noticed the barkeep standing
firm in front of his bar, the only fine piece of furniture in the place, to prevent it from damage.
“If yer heart is not racing about in full flight, love, then please, take us from this place.”
“We may not need to after all.” Torin laughed and motioned his hand at the Guards, who
had just thrown themselves whole-heartedly into the fray, wearing wide, face-splitting grins.
“Methinks ‘tis the Guards’ night off.”
Gin joined in the laughter and with Torin’s hand held firmly in his, ran out of the tavern. He
would just have to trust the rest of his crew to return to the boat as promised.
* * *
“Capt’n, is all well?” Rune leaned on the portside railing as he watched Gin and Torin run
up the gangplank. He was uncertain what to think with their return, not having expected their
arrival so soon. Both men looked on the verge of laughter, but…
“A typical night for a pirate. Any luck gathering supplies?”
“Managed to lift a few, but not enough—I was uncomfortable leaving Lemon and Jag
without protection for long. In need we will be of stopping again, hopefully during a time when
such places are open for business. What of crew, any luck?”
“Three new members, though not sure ye can call young Gator new.”
“Gator…Boots?”
“Aye. Rig left him. I know not what goes on in that man’s head. Red needs have a sit down
with him.”
“Nae, Red needs pound some sense into his lad.” Rune straightened, turned his attention to
Torin. “Ye look flushed, cousin. Still enjoying yer adventure on the sea?”
“I knew not that fighting was close to breathing for pirates.”
Rune laughed. “Oh aye.”
“I think I need rest.” Torin brushed a kiss over the corner of Gin’s mouth when concern
lined his face. “Worry not, I am well, pirate. ‘Tis not often I drink and so the ale begins to swim
in my head.”
“I will join ye soon—mayhap after we are underway…if the fog lifts. As ‘tis, I desire not to
stay tied to these shores with the House of Skyn in attendance.”
Rune narrowed his eyes at Gin after Torin disappeared behind the door of the captain’s
quarters. “A fight broke out? And I was not there?”
“Ye volunteered for boatwatch and supply gathering, Master Stone. Time ye wished to
spend with Lemon and yer lad.” Gin stared at his cabin door, wishing to follow, but there was
still much to do before time allowed him some privacy with Torin.
“Nae scratch do I see upon ye, mayhap a need I have to change that.”
“There was a fight?” Lemon came to stand next to Rune, concern etched on her face. She
walked over to Gin searching for injury.
“All is well, Mistress Drop.” Gin offered a roguish twist of his lips, his teeth flashing.
Rune went still. “Where is my mother?”
“In the midst of kicking a downed Rhino Skyn she was when I made mention ‘twas time to
leave. She should return soon.”
With a growl Rune started down the gangplank, hands fisted and ready to rip the head off
any pirate who thought to attack his mother, but instead he ran into his mother as she was
sauntering up, a satisfied glow surrounding her. “Ma!”
“Did ye think to rescue me, son?” Jasper laughed and patted Rune’s cheek. “Certain I am ye
would not dare think me too old to fight.”
“Nae, I…” Rune fidgeted, his feet shuffling as he stood before his mother. “’Twas Rhino
Skyn, Gin said. That bastard goes naewhere without his brother and…”
“Now, my lad, all is well. Rhino was dealt with and Gin took fine care of Snake, bashed his
head into the table a multiple of times. Old yullies both men are and not worth the worry.” She
motioned to the man behind her. “Ye recall Master Drum, aye? Found him I did reading legal
works. He has agreed to resume his duties as bo’s’n.”
Rune stared at the wide shouldered man, remembering him well, having spent much time
with him caring for Jasper’s boat during those precious times in his youth. “Aye, I recall.” He
stuck out his hand after his mother ducked around him on the gangplank, continuing on board.
“Aye, indeed. Look at ye, lad, a man grown.” Bass clasped wrists with Rune, then pulled
him into a hug. “’Tis a fine thing to see ye well.”
“Permission to board, Capt’n?” Gator stood at the bottom of the gangplank, a bag slung over
his shoulder. There was relief written upon his face that the boat was still moored.
Gin started, realizing that Gator spoke to him—his grin turned sheepish. “So granted, Master
Boots.”
“Aye!” Gator rushed up the gangplank or started to, but had to wait for Rune and Bass
before gaining the deck. “Master Stone, Gin said ye sailed with him.” He offered his hand in
greeting.
“Aye.” Rune clasped wrists with the lad, grinning, a teasing light in his eyes. “In need of
watching over the lad is.”
Gin glowered. “I will let that one pass, old man, knowing ye missed the fighting this eve. Go
below, Master Boots, and find yerself a berth, then return so we might discuss yer position
before we set sail. Ye find a berth as well, Master Drum, before learning of yer new mistress.
Below both ye give greeting to young Jag, of an age he is with ye Master Boots.”
Lemon piped up. “If my lad rests not, please inform me so that I might threaten to lengthen
his time abed.”
“Aye.” Both men disappeared below deck.
Rune looked at his mother who still glowed with satisfaction. After all these years of self-
imposed exile from the sea, the pirate within still held sway upon her heart. “Ma…”
“Aye, son. ‘Tis a fine thing to be sailing once more. The sea, she called to me for all these
years and after seeing ye, I knew that nae longer could I ignore her. I need contact yer sister
again, let her know we head north, that our journey to Ganos is delayed.”
“I have an aunt?” Gin asked, stopping whatever it was he was about to do.
Rune’s brow furrowed. “Have I not spoken of my little sister?”
“Aye, but… ‘Tis foolish I am this eve. Of course yer sister would be my aunt.”
“Permission to board, Capt’n?” A voice called from the dock.
Gin walked over to the railing to see if his final crewmember had arrived. With the fog
having thinned, it was easy enough to recognize Streaker’s lanky frame in the halo of light from
the nearest of the lamps lining the docks, especially with the guitar strapped to his back.
“Permission granted.”
“’Tis a fine boat ye have, Capt’n.” Streaker looked about, clasping wrists with Gin after
gaining the deck. “Aye, most elegant she is.”
“That she is.” Gin nodded as he too looked around. He thought he would always be grateful
to Torin for suggesting he take the boat as his own, she was a boat to be proud of. Hearing a
throat being cleared, he recalled himself and made the introductions. “Mistress Stone, Master
Stone, Mistress Drop, I would present Streaker, he is to be our cook.”
Rune eyed the newest member of the crew, deciding how he felt about him. He could feel
his mother doing the same. “Only our cook, lad?”
“He plays guitar as well. Mayhap we will follow in the tradition of Golden Boots and enjoy
music and song while we sail.”
“You sing while you sail?” Lemon’s green eyes went wide.
Gin laughed. “Mayhap. ’Tis Capt’n Boots’ way, though truth be told, he would sing most oft
when he felt nervous. None of us could ever mind for he is gifted with a voice blessed by both
Yeryl and Zasara.”
“Aye.” Rune nodded.
“Never could I mind singing a round or two for an appreciative audience.” Streaker pulled
his guitar from his back and strummed a few cords. “Methinks I may enjoy sailing with ye,
Capt’n Gin.”
“Pleased I am to hear it. Go below and settle in. Then, upon yer leisure, find yer way to the
galley. Our stores are low, but we plan to replenish on our next stop.”
“A half days sail to the north will bring ye upon Pagos Island. There ye will find a fine open
air market for purchases and trading.”
Gin nodded and offered a single, enthusiastic clap of his hands. “Good to know since north
is our destination.” He looked to Rune, finally beginning to feel more of a captain. “We have our
headings, Master Stone, when the tide is with us, weigh anchor.”
“Aye, Capt’n!”
The sounds of docking and the feel of the bed dipping roused Torin from slumber. He
smiled when he felt the muscular arm slide around his waist and the very apparent arousal press
against his buttocks. He never thought he would enjoy the sensation of being held tight against a
hard male body, but it was, for him, quite exciting.
“Do I assume we have arrived at Pagos?” Torin reached around and caressed Gin’s thigh.
Gin had come into the cabin a few hours after they set sail from the previous island with a
meal for them to share and explained the plan to stop at a nearby island for the rest of their
supplies. The fog had returned, ending their brief respite, and so Gin had not spent much time
with him, feeling more comfortable being out on deck. He said it was what a good captain would
do.
“We have, aye.” Gin was tempted to nibble on Torin’s ear, wondered if he would enjoy it.
Mayhap after he shaved he would do so; he wished not to scratch Torin’s skin with his growing
stubble.
“Do we go ashore, or do you wish to stay aboard and play? I did promise before the
appearance of the fog.”
Gin went still, torn over what to do. He had wished to take Torin ashore, the market looked
fair overflowing with fine wares and exotic flavors, to hold his hand as they looked about. And
yet… He pressed further against Torin, his arm tightening against his will, his cock nigh
throbbing to be released.
He thought he would come when Torin laughed. “Mayhap…mayhap after we find The
Mistress Grey we could spend a day ashore.”
Torin rolled over, pushing Gin onto his back. Looming over him, he took Gin’s hands and
raised them over his head. He leaned down and lightly grazed their lips together before pulling
back.
“Stay as I put you, pirate.” He rolled off the bed and started across the cabin. “I go to clean
my teeth.”
“But…” Gin started to bring his hands down.
“Do not move.” Torin locked eyes with Gin. “I placed you as I wanted you.” He waited until
Gin put his hands once more above his head and then returned to what he was about. He also
needed to use the facilities.
Exiting from behind the screened-off area, he walked over to the washbasin, washed his
hands then went about cleaning his teeth. Taking a sideways glance he found Gin still with his
hands above his head, in fact, grabbing the headboard. He continued with scrubbing his teeth, but
the corners of his eyes wrinkled with a smile, especially when something banged outside the
cabin and Gin, though he jerked his head towards the door, stayed as he was.
Finished, Torin faced Gin, head tilted to the side and eyes roving as he studied his lover
lying there. The bulge in Gin’s breeches drew his gaze and his mind filled with thoughts of
savoring it with his mouth.
“Is aught wrong?” Gin’s body trembled under Torin’s gaze. “Should I use the word ye gave
me previous?”
“All is well. I just enjoy looking upon you, though… Hmmm. Methinks you are
overdressed.” So saying, he snapped his fingers and divested Gin of his clothing, leaving him
bare, erection resting upon his taut hairy stomach. “’Tis a fine thing to see you so.”
Gin bit his lower lip briefly, uncertain how he felt about being on display, and yet it aroused
him even further to have Torin looking at him in such a manner, to feel at his mercy.
“The word previous was anchor. If you find yourself too uncomfortable with what we do,
say that word and I will cease at once.” Though he knew he was not going to do anything that
would require a word of safety, he thought that mayhap ‘twould help Gin to have one, that Gin
would appreciate having such an escape. “Do you use that word, I would hope that afterward you
would tell me what made you need to stop. Agreed?”
Taking a deep breath, Gin nodded.
“Good. I only wish to bring you pleasure, not cause you distress.” Torin climbed onto the
bed and crawled over Gin, straddling his body.
“Do you remain clothed?”
He lowered his head so that their lips touched. “Would you have me naked?”
“Aye,” it was the barest of whispers. Heat fully suffused Gin’s body, tightened his skin from
just the thought of having their bodies pressed flesh to flesh.
“Then do the spell.” Torin touched his lips to the side of Gin’s mouth, his tongue darting out
and licking the corner.
It took Gin several tries to snap his fingers and activate the simple spell to divest Torin of
his clothing. He had never wanted anything more than to have his lover unclothed, to see his soft
bare body hovering over him.
He groaned, his body jerking.
Someone knocked on the door.
Gin jumped and started to scramble, but caught himself upon feeling Torin’s thighs squeeze
together over his own. He looked away from the door and up at Torin, panic written on his face.
“All is well, pirate. Notice that they have not entered.” He pressed more kisses against Gin’s
lips. “’Twould be best that you answer—just call out.”
Gin cleared his throat and again when his voice came out an octave higher. “Aye?”
“We go ashore, Capt’n.” It was Rune. “Worry not, yer faithful crew will gather what stores
we need, just enjoy fucking yer treasure while we…” He yelped and then cursed. “Why did ye
pinch me, woman?”
Lemon’s voice was muffled but distinguishable through the door, “Tease him not so.”
“’Tis my place to tease him. In need he is of teasing. Too serious does he take himself.”
The two men could hear Rune being dragged away, complaining that Lemon hindered his
fun, but despite the interruption, Torin never ceased the light brushings of his lips, now moving
slowly along Gin’s jaw.
“There, all is well. ‘Twas only good natured ribbing from Master Stone, something that even
you might have done.”
Gin shuddered, doing what he could to force the anxiety away, but he began to fidget,
needing to move. “I…”
“Attention upon me, pirate.” Torin gently took the lobe of Gin’s ear between his teeth,
suckled a moment. “Concentrate on what I do, each sensation I bring to you, instead of what is
outside that door. Did you not state you wish not to hold such fear?”
This time he shuddered from lust, a soft moan passing his lips, especially when he felt
Torin’s prick graze his own. “Aye.”
“Ah, you like that.” So he did it again, dipping his hips so their erections crossed, rubbed.
“Again,” Gin gasped.
“In time. Other pleasures do I have for you to sample.” He pressed his lips to Gin’s neck,
gently drawing on the sensitive flesh below his ear.
“Wh-what is it ye would do?” The breath of Torin’s quiet laugh tickled Gin causing
chillbumps to rise all along his body, his nipples to tighten with a pleasurable pinch. His breath
hitched.
“Would you have me describe every delicious and naughty detail?” Torin nipped his
shoulder, drew his tongue over the bloom of color. He began to lick his way down, wetting the
skin and hair upon Gin’s chest before softly blowing over the area. “You do seem to enjoy such
verbal play.”
When Gin writhed beneath him, his body searching for more than teasing, he continued
tracing his tongue down Gin’s chest and licked a bunched nipple. It was satisfying for him to
hear the soft panting cry slip from Gin’s lips.
“Mayhap, my lover, you wish to hear how I am going to bring your prick into my mouth for
a long overdue sucking. Mmm, no, I think you wish to hear how I plan to turn you over and
lick…” he shifted his weight onto his right hand and brought his left down and caressed the seam
between Gin’s buttocks, “here.”
“Fuck!” Gin nearly erupted from the bed, unable to fathom such a thing. Would Torin truly
use his tongue to…? His cock pulsed with need and he feared coming.
“I have read many an erotic account describing such encounters, and always to the delight of
the one receiving the attention.” Torin continued running his fingers along the cleft, keeping the
touch light. “Your body, it does draw me, and I wish to explore it in all ways possible.”
“Please…”
“Worry not over spilling your seed, for do you indeed come, I plan to arouse you all over
again,” he lightly bit down on the nipple he had been laving, “and again. You are mine for the
next few hours, pirate, and plan I do to make you enjoy every minute.”
Gin lifted his head wanting to see what Torin was about, but he was unable to maintain upon
seeing Torin’s tongue dart out, feeling the moist heat caress the nipple once more. His head
pressed into the pillow when Torin began to suck upon the nipple, his mouth falling open as he
tried to catch a breath. Only within the darkest part of his mind did the desires occur to
experience such things, to even contemplate doing them with another.
Gin cried out, his body arching, his mind dwelling upon Torin’s sexy words, picturing
him…
“You think too much,” it was whispered as Torin licked and kissed his way down Gin’s
chest. He blew once more upon the dampened hair after playing with the muscled ridges of his
abdomen. “’Tis best to accept the pleasure, allow it to flow through you, over you, not to fight it
with scrutiny.”
“Ye spoke of…caused images within…” His body arched again when Torin’s fingers delved
between his buttocks, caressing the tight ring of his hole.
“You are most curious of what I will do, if I will do as I say. Do any of the possibilities
frighten you?” He drew closer to Gin’s now dripping cock, his own throbbing with just as much
excitement. Sitting back, trapping Gin’s legs more fully, he took in his lover’s form, then caught
his gaze. “Does it frighten you?”
“S-so much…s-sensation.”
Reaching down, Torin grasped Gin’s cock and stroked it, softly moaning as he did so, liking
the feel of the hot, hard length in his hand—it kept surprising him how much he liked the male
on male contact. He circled his thumb over the head, spreading the precum around.
“Torin…do ye…will ye…”
“Oh yes,” he whispered. “Very much so. Ever have you been suckled?” But he already knew
the answer to that.
“Nae!” Gin’s voice went up higher as he watched Torin lean down, his mouth partially open.
“Yeryl and Zasara,” it was a plea, but for what he was not sure.
“No, ‘tis Torin. Neither Guardian is about to bring your prick into their mouth, only I am.”
His lips parted further as his head dipped lower. Tongue darting out, he licked the head, tasted,
and received an electrical thrill. With a deep moan he brought the hard length into his mouth,
drawing on it the moment his lips were sealed.
Gin’s whole body jolted, his mouth falling open on a hoarse shout. He was uncertain how he
was able to breath with the feel of Torin’s tongue wrapping around his shaft, the pull of his warm
wet mouth. The sound of…
The sounds…
“Anchor!”
Torin stopped immediately, but mostly from surprise—Gin had seemed most involved in
their play. Sitting back, he looked at him, opened himself, wishing to Read what Gin was about.
Gin was staring at him, his eyes panicked and distant, and so he climbed off Gin’s legs, sitting at
the foot of the bed to give him room if he wished to bolt.
He was trying not to feel hurt. He knew that Gin had issues, had decided to help him. To
help him, he had to expect moments such as these. This was about his lover finding peace and
self-acceptance.
“Lower your arms, Gin, you are free to move about.”
Gin did as told and then rolled from the bed, started pacing. After a moment he briefly
glanced at Torin, but he never stopped pacing. He thought he understood now why his brother
had taken up such a habit. “Ye stopped.”
“You said the word, of course I stopped. Did you expect otherwise?”
“I knew not… I know ye said, but… I…apologize. I know ye wished…”
“The point of having such a word is to give the submitting partner control over all that
transpires.”
“I…I wish not to have such control.”
“Then why did you speak the word? Did you dislike my suckling you?” Torin waited for
Gin to speak, but when he continued to hesitate, he said, “Recall you promised to speak of what
bothered you did you say the word.”
“’Twas the noise.” His hands suddenly clapped over his ears. “I disliked the noise. ‘Twas a
most horrible sound.” He found himself in front of the mirror staring at himself and was shaken
from his growing panic seeing the dark hair gracing his head, the dark stubble upon his face. He
dropped his hands, his face pinching. “I did it again.” He jerked his eyes from the mirror and
looked at Torin, his eyes pooling with moisture. “Did I not…” He waved his hand at the mirror.
“Did I not change my appearance so that I would cease…?”
“Changing your appearance changes not the experiences you lived.”
“Then what was the point!?” he yelled. “What was the point of changing my appearance if it
does naught to change me?”
Torin kept from flinching as Gin yelled, reminding himself that Gin was just yelling; it was
not directed at him. “Do you feel disgust when you look upon yourself now? Do you see an ugly
man reflecting back at you?”
Gin returned his gaze to the mirror, but was mute.
“What do you see?” Torin ordered.
“I see… ‘Tis my father I see. ‘Tis my mother’s eyes staring at me.”
“Was your father an ugly man? Were your mother’s eyes grotesque?”
“Nae!” He glared at Torin who had since changed where he sat on the bed; he now faced
him. “Nae! My mother had the prettiest eyes. They were always laughing and bright. Always did
they have love in them when she looked upon me.”
“What of your father?”
“My father was…he was…”
“Your father was what?”
“He was very handsome. He had this bold, deep laugh, this broad warm smile.” Gin looked
at the mirror again. “I see my father, but… ‘Tis Rum who looks most like him.” He pulled back
his fist, wishing to strike the mirror, but was stilled by Torin’s grasp upon his wrist. He had not
heard him leave the bed.
“’Tis not Rum I stand behind, pirate. I stand behind you.” Pressing up against Gin’s back,
Torin rested his chin on his shoulder and joined him looking in the mirror. He took Gin’s raised
fist and lowered it, holding it against Gin’s hip. “Changed you did the color of your hair so you
would finally see Gin Py instead of a ryn Ferth, so that you would see how handsome you are
instead of a man you thought ugly.” He reached around with his other hand and rubbed it over
Gin’s hairy chest, with a roguish smile pinched his nipple. “I think you a most handsome and
fine specimen of manhood. Shiny treasure you are indeed.”
Gin’s eyes widened at such words, but then he shook his head. “Far from shiny treasure I
am.”
“’Tis not so.” He kissed Gin’s neck, silently thanking Rune for offering such insight into
Gin. Gin needed to know he belonged to him. “Were you not treasure to me, do you think I
would be desiring to fuck you so, to do all I could to bring you such overwhelming pleasure?
Were you not treasure do you think I would be chasing you so intently? Methinks were you not
treasure, I would have found a way off this boat, but here I am and not elsewhere.”
Torin continued to watch Gin in the mirror, saw the lingering doubts of his claim. He
dropped his hand from Gin’s chest, grabbed his free hand, then placed both hands upon the
washbasin; Gin’s body now bent forward and held captive. Kicking Gin’s legs apart, Torin
rocked his lengthening cock between his lover’s buttocks.
“What are ye about?”
“It seems I must prove my words.” He held Gin’s surprised gaze in the mirror. “Do not
move, pirate.”
“We face a mirror.” But he did as Torin ordered, staying where he was, his prick aching
hard with the knowledge that he was about to be taken.
“Indeed. Do not take your eyes from it. I want you well aware ‘tis I who stand behind you,
that I am the one fucking you.” Torin rocked his hips again and moaned his pleasure. “’Tis a fine
ass you have, strong, firm.”
Releasing Gin’s hands, trusting him to remain as he placed him, Torin caressed said ass, his
thumbs digging into the muscled cheeks.
“Oh yes, a most fine ass.”
“Torin… please, m-my ass needs not admiring.”
“Methinks it does. Methinks that it needs much admiring.” He continued kneading it,
caressing it.
“Nae, fuck me!”
He brought the flat of his hand down upon Gin’s buttocks with a resounding slap, pleased by
Gin’s startled cry of ecstasy. “Do I need introduce a gag?”
“Ye…”
Torin did it again, bringing his hand down in a stinging slap. He watched and waited,
curious as to Gin’s reaction. He knew Gin liked it, the way his skin blossomed with color and his
body vibrated as it waited for more, but it was a big step and could court trouble, especially after
his reaction to being suckled. But Gin stayed where he was, his eyes wide and pleading in the
mirror, his lips wet and parted.
“Worry not, I will fuck you, but I will do so when I am ready to do so.” He rubbed the
reddened area, soothing the sting, before bringing his hand down one more.
Gin cried out again, afraid he was going to come before Torin could fuck him. He had
forgotten how good it felt, the feel of a hard smack to his ass. That it was Torin who delivered
the blow, the pleasure… His knees dropped when Torin placed a kiss upon his back, the differing
sensations—one stinging, the other gentle—battering his mind, his body, but he braced them,
determined to continue.
Yeryl and Zasara he wanted him to continue. In that moment the past meant nothing.
Torin kissed Gin’s back again, traced his tongue along his spine, before again bringing his
hand down upon his lover’s buttocks. “Think not to come, pirate. Know I do that you are close.”
“I…”
“If I need to, gladly will I place a tie upon your prick.” Another strike of hand to firm
rounded flesh. His own prick surged, pulsed, when Gin’s buttocks flexed, when his cry grew
louder, filling the room with the sounds of his ecstasy.
Gin pressed back against Torin and was rewarded with another hard hand to his ass. Yeryl
and Zasara that was good. So good.
He blinked when Torin disappeared from the mirror, going down upon his knees behind
him. “What are ye a…?”
His body bucked forward when Torin swirled his tongue between his buttocks, playing with
the tight ring of his hole. “Fuck!” he yelled. Torin had actually done it. Stars swam before his
eyes when Torin did it again, used his tongue upon him so intimately, and he could hardly
breath. Never had he imagined… “Fuck!”
When Torin grasped Gin’s prick, gave it a rough tug, his tongue still doing unimaginable
things, Gin thought he might pass out. He could hardly pull in enough air to say the word that
would stop everything.
Yeryl and Zasara, why would he want to say it?!
“Torin…Torin…coming…”
Torin climbed to his feet, running his tongue up and along Gin’s spine as he did so. When he
reached the base of Gin’s neck, he straightened and brought his hand down upon his lover’s ass.
“No, you are not, not until I am within you.”
A sob slipped from Gin’s lips, needing so much. “Please.”
Again Torin brought his hand down upon Gin’s ass. For a moment he worried he had pushed
him too far, that he had actually brought Gin to orgasm—the ecstasy upon Gin’s face, the way
his body stiffened surely his lover’s seed was spilling. “Did you come?”
Gin shook his head, gasping, “Close.”
Torin summoned the glide oil to his hand and dribbled it down the crease of Gin’s ass,
pleased when Gin shuddered, then dribbled some upon his own prick before sending the bottle
away; he hummed feeling the oil warming against his skin. He started spreading the oil around
Gin’s hole before pressing a finger into him, slowly pumping it in and out making certain to
caress the pleasure knot as he did so.
“Love…” Gin pushed back against Torin’s finger, riding it as much as Torin was using it to
fuck him. “Aye…aye…aye…”
Torin eased a second finger into Gin and continued the slow in and out. He added more oil
wanting it slicker as he scissored his fingers then rotated them, continuing to ready Gin. It was
getting harder to control himself, his own arousal being pushed to the limits. He wanted to fuck
Gin, to fuck him well. Torin wanted Gin to fully recognize his claim upon him.
When Gin groaned, his body stilling, Torin knew he could wait no longer. Easing his fingers
away, he grasped his cock and pressed it against the opening, pushing his way inside Gin. His
lips parted, and his eyes shuttered, still surprised by the ecstasy of entering this man.
Torin rocked his hips, working further into him. He was itching to lay his hand upon Gin’s
ass once more, but curled his fingers into Gin’s sides instead, deciding to wait until the final
moment when they were both upon orgasm. Feeling Gin tense, Torin reached around and offered
Gin’s prick a gentle tug, stroking from root to tip.
“Hurry!” Gin’s body dipped with the caress, though his eyes stayed glued upon the mirror,
holding Torin’s gaze.
“Always in a hurry, pirate.” But he bit the inside of his cheek, concentrating on the small
sting of pain to keep himself from falling over the edge and doing as Gin begged. Soon. Soon he
would ride him well, but not until he was completely within his lover. He continued rocking his
hips, shallow thrusts slowly sliding his cock deeper inside Gin, finally seating himself fully. “Ah,
fuck, Gin, ‘tis good.”
“Strike my ass. I want it…I want it.”
“You want it?” Torin started to ease out of Gin, pulling away until only his head was within
him before pushing his length all the way back in. “How do you want it do I indeed lay a hand
upon your fine ass once more?”
“I want it.” Gin licked his lips. He was so hot, aroused, his body began glistening with
sweat. Torin’s body was flushed as well, his yiska eyes nigh as bright as the sun, and such
knowledge only made him hotter, more in need. He tried to push back against Torin, but he was
held firm. He gasped, “I want it.”
“Is this how you want it?” Torin placed a tender pat upon Gin’s buttocks.
“St-strike me as before.”
“Mmm,” a soft hum as he continued thrusting so very slow. Yeryl and Zasara it was good,
especially straddling the edge of climax as he was, forcing himself to control the pace. “How am
I to prove that you are mine do I…rush?”
Gin made a sound of protest, frustrated, his complaints previous had garnered the hard hand
to his ass, and again tried to push back each time Torin pressed in, wishing to meet him, to
encourage him to hurry. He moaned, the pleasure so great. He was certain he could not…
“Soon, pirate, soon.” Torin patted Gin’s ass a little firmer, though still not as Gin desired.
“Allow me to enjoy fucking you and I promise, when I am close to spilling, gladly will I strike
your ass.”
“’Tis torment… This slow pleasure, ‘tis torment!”
“Indeed and the point.” Gripping Gin’s hips firmly, he increased the force of his thrusts.
“Mine! Mine you are to fuck!”
“Aye!” Gin shouted, his face filling with ecstasy; finally, he was being taken. He noticed
then how he looked while Torin rode him, mouth open with loud moans tumbling past his lips.
His gaze shifted back to Torin and found the same ecstatic look upon his face. He became hotter,
almost feeling as if he were watching others fucking so splendidly.
“Say it,” he growled. He kept thrusting hard: pulling out, shoving in. He loved Gin’s harsh
cries. “Say you are mine.”
“Yers, I am yers.”
“You are mine to fuck.”
“I am yers to fuck. Yeryl and Zasara, I am… Torin, I…” A shout of pleasure ceased his
words. “Please…”
Torin brought his hand down hard upon Gin’s ass once, twice, his hips bucking with the
primal instincts of mating as he did so. “Come, pirate, come now!”
Gin released a strangled cry, orgasm blossoming and flooding his body with untold
sensations as his seed jetted from his body. He nigh roared his release when Torin struck his ass
a third time, but he could hardly suck in a breath. He held no desire to breathe if this would only
go on forever.
“Gin!” he hissed his lover’s name with his own climax when Gin’s body tightened upon his
cock, inner walls spasming and milking his length. He continued to thrust, he could do nothing
else; orgasm engulfed him, ruled him. He collapsed upon Gin’s back, his hands covering Gin’s,
holding them. Their harsh breaths were in sync as were their rapidly pounding hearts. “Mine.”
“Yers.”
* * *
Sliding from Gin’s body, Torin, with lazy movements, wet a cloth in the washbasin and
began cleaning he and Gin, pleased when his pirate did not shy away or bolt. But then again, Gin
still seemed lost in the glow of their fucking, his body still flushed. Either way, he did not mind,
enjoying caring for his lover in such a basic manner.
Taking Gin’s hand, once the cleanup was completed, Torin pulled him over to the trunk at
the foot of the bed and sat him down upon it. He then grabbed a chair from the table, shamelessly
walking across the cabin naked; he knew Gin stared, ogled. Placing the chair in front of him, he
sat and took Gin’s hands in his own.
“Now, I wish to know why the sound of my suckling your prick upset you so.”
Gin began pulling into himself, tried removing his hands from Torin’s. “I wish not to speak
of it.”
“Never did I think you the sort to go back upon a promise.”
“I am not! Always do I hold to my promises. ‘Tis… ‘Twas she… She made such noises
when…during that time…with Doshan. He had grabbed her and forced himself within her
mouth, made her…”
“There was no force when I took you within my mouth. ‘Twas something I wished to try
with no coaxing from you. Did it not excite you, the thought of my sucking you? It excited me to
do it.”
“Aye, and…and I liked…” Gin looked down at their joined hands unable to meet Torin’s
eyes. “I liked the feel of it, the wet heat of yer mouth, the suction, never had I felt such… But
then the noise and… It brought back the memories.”
“Know you aught about such things, other than what you may have seen within Rum’s
books? Ever have you witnessed such a scene before? And I speak not of that moment of cruelty
you endured, but another less frightening moment.”
His head jerked up, blue eyes bright as another memory suddenly assailed him. “I once saw
a man doing so to another. When I was upon Nagos, while sailing about the Wild Coast with
Capt’n Mack, I stumbled across them behind a pub.”
“Tell me.”
Gin bit his lips together then nodded. “The man being…he was…petting the one before him,
petting his hair.” He showed Torin what he meant, making stroking motions with his hand. “The
one before him was looking up at him as if he were…liking it, as if he adored the other.”
“Did either appear to be forced?”
“Nae. The one petting, he…he was telling the other how good it felt, that he loved him,
offered nae urgings to hurry despite the possibility of being caught.”
“How did it make you feel to be witnessing such a thing?”
“Excited…and dirty. ‘Twas a sensation I wished to feel, to receive and mayhap offer in
return, and yet…and yet it was…” He stood wanting to pace, but feeling Torin tug upon his
hands he retook his seat. “Yeryl and Zasara! I wish not to feel this way. Wish I do to be with ye
with nae such issues haunting me. What sort of man am I that…?”
“A fine man you are and there is naught wrong with you. Yes, you hold awful memories,
memories no one should have, but it means not that you are less.”
“I wish to be with ye with nae fear sitting upon my shoulders.”
“And you will, but ‘twill take time.” He brought their joined hands up and pressed them
against his cheek. “Already do you make much progress. Do you realize we sit here naked
together?”
Gin nodded almost shyly. “Enjoy I do looking upon ye thusly.”
“Also would I bring light upon the fact that you did not bolt after I fucked you or when I
cleaned you.”
He sat there for a minute staring at Torin, shocked to find that it was so. He had not felt the
need to move away when always before he had.
“And recall well that you allowed my hand to strike you upon the buttocks multiple times
before I even entered you, that you even demanded I do it once within you.” He watched Gin
flush with the reminder. “Did it bother you?”
Gin shook his head, his lips trembling as the corners began lifting into a smile. “Did it
bother ye to do so?”
“What brings you pleasure, pirate, brings me pleasure. Only am I glad I am versed in such
things so that I can give you what you desire. Did you like it?”
“Aye.”
“Did it bring up any memories?”
He shook his head. “Nae, ‘twas… Behind me in the mirror I saw ye, saw yer hand rise and
fall. All I knew was that ‘twas ye delivering the…pleasure,” the final word delivered on an
exhaled breath.
“I am most pleased to hear this.” Torin moved his chair back several feet and then looked at
Gin, face serious. “Kneel before me, pirate.”
Gin almost fell into Torin’s lap in his rush. He looked up at the other man, anxious, trying to
see what it was Torin might want of him. He brushed his hands upon Torin’s full thighs, but then
stopped, held them still, uncertain what he was about. Torin brought him such pleasure, but he
was uncertain he knew how to return such sensations, that Torin would even want him to.
“Do you like it when I overpower you, when I take what I want when I want, to make you
submit to me? You respond well to my orders.”
Gin’s breath caught thinking of the other day when Torin pressed up behind him, bending
him over the table, and later when he pressed him up against the wall, or just moments passed
being bent over the washbasin, of being spanked. His cock grew hard, rose before him.
“I-I have liked each time ye did such.” His voice was husky and deep. He felt a sense of
freedom when Torin controlled the sex.
“Did you?” He fisted his hand in Gin’s hair, leaned down and paused, his lips hovering
above Gin’s, waited, knowing it increased the tension, the need for a kiss. When Gin’s breath
shuddered, he pressed their lips together affectionately, sweetly. “Did you?”
“Aye,” he whispered. “’Tis…liberating. Suppose do ye that is part of what…what happened
that day? That I like being handled so, m-my control taken?”
“’Tis quite possible, and not unusual.”
“’Tis not wrong?”
“Never. It may deviate from traditional, but that means not ‘tis wrong or perverted. That I
enjoy what brings you pleasure only proves further that you are my treasure.”
“Treasure.” Gin’s lips trembled as he smiled.
He picked up Gin’s hands and pulled him closer. “Indeed my treasure. Surely I have proven
such a thing.”
Instead of answering, Gin pressed his cheek against his lover, pressed into him, his arms
sliding about Torin. “Love I do the feel of ye, of pressing against ye. ‘Tis a comforting feeling.”
“Only comforting?”
“’Tis arousing as well. Having my cheek so, yer scent assails me, and ‘tis…most favorful.
Like that of fresh hewn sandwood: musky, woody. When we were sailing about the Wild Coast
—we were in the country of Yenka to be exact, anchored off Port Carago—there was this table
in the market overflowing with small hand-carved sandwood figures. I bought several because of
the scent alone. Would ye care to see them? I carry them within my trunk.”
“Mayhap later. I am enjoying this moment with you, holding you close.”
“Did she do it?” Gin asked several minutes later.
Torin looked down into Gin’s upturned face. “What?”
“Never…” Gin shook his head, “mind.”
“What was it you asked? Tell me,” it was an order.
“Did yer wife…did she…did she suckle ye?” He turned his face away.
Torin stared, shocked. He had never expected Gin to ask such a question. He knew Gin felt
jealousy in regards to Alara, but it was more than just a question. Thoughts of his wife had been
far from his mind since the fight with Gin.
“Yes, she did. She enjoyed using her mouth upon me; it aroused her. Why do you ask?”
“Have ye… Have ye had others do so…before yer wife…mayhap after her?”
“No. Alara was my first in all ways. There were none before her, only have I been with you
since her death, and never was there any other while she lived.”
Gin’s brows drew together. “She… Ye were maiden with her?”
“I was, just as I was…am maiden with you.”
“Nae maiden are ye. Ye know…and yer experienced…”
Torin slowly released a breath, gathered his thoughts as he stared at the table to his right. “I
knew naught before Alara. Never had there been time to find a lover while Mother lived, for
always was I caring for her. That is until I met Alara and even then ‘twas not… Mother had to
prod me. No, in truth Mother insisted when she saw me staring with such longing—I knew not
how such a beautiful woman could want me.”
“Why would she not!?” Gin’s face filled with outrage. “A fine looking man ye are. I wanted
ye the first time I saw ye. Why do ye think I kissed ye that day by the pond when we were lads?”
“You knew then?”
“I knew always. A pirate knows his treasure. ‘Tis a reason… ‘Tis the reason I took ye. Not
for the finances; ‘twas only a bonus.” Gin jumped to his feet, arms akimbo, hands fisted. “A fool
she would have been not to …”
“’Tis a fine invitation you offer me, my handsome pirate.” Torin reached out and stroked
Gin’s cock. “Many an idea do you give me.”
Gin froze, waited. “S-such as?”
Torin laughed as he summoned one of the former captain’s silk scarves and draped it over
Gin’s prick. “You shall see.”
Rune was surprised by the stiff angry line of his limon drop’s back as they navigated
through the market’s morning crowd. Once they had disembarked the boat she had released his
arm and walked off ahead of him, refusing to speak with him and he had tried several
unsuccessful times to take her hand in his, to pull her off to one side or another. Uncertain what
was wrong, he caught up with her, determined to figure out her sudden switch of mood—she had
been most excited about going ashore just moments before.
“Why are ye upset, woman?”
She stopped and glared up at him, uncaring that they were in the middle of the market. “Ye
ask me why?”
“Aye.” He found it adorable that she had so easily adopted the guttural parlance of the
seafarer and had to keep from smiling.
She snorted and started once more walking. “I understand not why ye ask or why ye follow
when ‘tis obvious ye hold nae desire to go about with me—I might ruin yer fun if ye do.”
Rune blinked, surprised by her answer. He rushed after her, grabbed her arm and pulled her
off to the side. “What is this foolishness? Why would I desire ye not with me this day?”
“Already did I say, ye rotten pirate.” She jerked her arm from him and once more glared at
him. “I might ruin yer fun.”
He returned her glare. “Ye would do nae such thing. What sort of foolishness is this?”
“Is that not what ye said upon the boat: That I ruined yer fun? Knew I did ye held nae true
desire to have me with ye.”
He grabbed her and kissed her, deeply, not letting up until she returned it. “Always have I
wanted ye with me. Now please explain.”
“Ye said I ruined yer fun.”
Realization of what she meant dawned on him and he started laughing. “Aye, ye did.”
“Nae laughing matter is this!” She punched him on the arm.
“Ahhh, limon drop, ‘tis indeed a most humorous matter.” He rubbed his arm, still chuckling.
“Ye ceased my teasing of Gin when ‘tis teasing he deserved. Too much of a tight ass is he
and…”
“And he needs not to be teased in such a manner.”
“Aye, love, he does.”
“Not about sex. ‘Tis easy enough to see he has issues when it comes to intimacy. Did ye not
witness the argument with Torin two mornings past?”
“’Twas plain idiocy on Gin’s part.” When she went to leave again, Rune slipped his arms
around his treasure and pulled her tight against his chest. “Mayhap he has issues, but ‘tis the
pirate way to tease and poke. He would do the same. ‘Twould hardly be fair not to return any
mockery he gives me.”
“He…” She rested her forehead against Rune’s chest, trying to gather her thoughts. This was
definitely a foolish argument. Rune had obviously not meant what she thought he meant. They
were no longer children and she needed not to react so swiftly, to be fearful about Rune’s
affections. Had he not brought her with him to sea? “Gin has issues, deep seated, intimacy issues
—I know this despite what may appear on the outside—and he needs Torin to aid him, not ye
teasing him.”
“And when will I be allowed to tease him?” He tilted her head back and grinned down at
her.
“Tease him all ye like in regards to all other issues, just allow he and Torin peace in regards
to their relationship. Though, I am most certain, ‘twill be soon enough that Gin’s issues will nae
longer be. Indeed he seemed more confident since he changed his hair from blond to brown.”
“Very well.” After kissing her once more, crushing her tight against him, wishing her to
truly know his desire—although he thought after the hour he had had her below decks that morn
she should know well his desire for her—he grasped her hand and motioned towards the milling
crowd. “Now, would ye care for a quick look-see about the market? Methinks we have a bit of
time. Mayhap we will find a merchant who crafts marriage cuffs.”
She stared at him uncomprehending for a moment, still lost from the kiss. “Do ye marry me
then before we reach Ganos?”
“Once we have the cuffs in hand I will ask Ma to marry us. Or mayhap Gin. I would not
have this day end without us bound to one another.”
“I would like that as long as ye mind not my foolishness from time to time.”
He laughed and starting pulling her back into the market crowd. “Why would I mind such a
thing, limon drop? Certain I am there will be times that I am as equally foolish.”
“Such as telling me I ruin yer fun?”
He looked over his shoulder, laughter still dancing on his face. “Aye.”
Lemon stumbled when Rune’s face suddenly shifted, the laughter disappearing, his eyes
narrowing. “What is…?”
“I know not if I should yell at him, or feel pride that he is my son.”
“What mean ye?”
Rune stopped, uncaring that they now blocked the flow of market goers. “Jag has left the
boat despite knowing he is to be resting for a few hours more.”
“That little sneak!” She spun around, searching the crowd for her son. “Where is he so that I
might blister his ears?”
“But should we offer him lecture? I wish not to discourage such behavior; the son of a pirate
he is. Never will a pirate remain confined if there is opportunity to escape, even if he is still sore
from a rigorous fight. That, and is he not nineteen, almost a man grown?”
“Aye, he is. I just keep thinking that nearly did I lose him. Those bastards…” Her nostrils
flared and she bit her bottom lip. Her hand flexed wishing to strike at the ones who thought to
harm her child.
“I know.” He wrapped his arms about her, held her close, his lips pressed near her temple.
“So close did I come to not ever meeting him. I will enjoy most thoroughly running each cur
through.”
Once calm, Lemon looked up. “Should we at least let him know we caught him?”
“Aye. Aye, we should. In need he is of sharpening his sneaking about skills.” Taking her
hand, Rune pulled Lemon in the direction he saw his son travel. “I wonder what he is about?”
“Do ye think he looks for a quick tumble?”
Laughter erupted; he was unable to help it hearing his limon drop speak so. He spun around
and scooped her up into his arms, placed a loud kiss upon her lips. “Ye do a seafarer proud.”
A groan was heard, but suddenly cut off as if the sound had been unmeant. Rune and Lemon
looked towards the source, eyes narrowing seeing Jag attempting to back away.
“Much work are ye needing with sneaking about proper, son.”
Jag ceased his retreat. He stood, crossing his arms, a stubborn look replacing that of the
earlier worried expression. “’Tis not as if I strain myself looking about the market.”
“Ye speak true, and it surprises me not that ye escaped the boat. Next time, try not to get
caught.” Rune once more took Lemon’s hand, but looked over his shoulder as they walked away,
trying not to laugh at the surprise upon his son’s face. “And bring yer mother a gift. Always bring
yer mother a gift.”
“But what of ye?” Lemon asked. “Do ye not desire a gift?”
“Of course, but he knows me not. Though I would take it as a gift the first time he lifts a
timetell and again when he takes his first dagger.”
“Such things are important?”
“Milestones, limon drop. They show a young pirate’s growth, his abilities with his hands. In
need I will be of showing him how to keep from having those items lifted from his person—also
very important steps in becoming a proper seafarer.”
“Ye mean pirate.”
“Any soul who takes to the sea need know how to keep what is important, pirate or not. I
hold plans to teach ye as well.”
“I recall much of what ye taught me those years past, and what I knew even before.”
He brought her over to a market stall exploding with the scent of spicy flavors. The owner of
the stall, an older man with bushy white hair, was busy cooking a hearty stew well known mostly
in the Southeastern seas. Rune looked most forward to showing Lemon all that he had seen while
they were apart, wishing to experience each place, each activity through her eyes.
The old man looked up at his guests and offered a gap-toothed smile. “Ah me first patrons of
the day. A brave soul does it take to try me stew.”
“Well acquainted I am with the fare of Essoth Island. Do ye add any habbas peppers?”
“Five per pot.”
Rune’s mouth started watering; he could hardly wait. “Two bowls.”
“Think yer woman be able to handle the heat?”
“Her first time this will be trying such fine fare.”
“Then mayhap I offer her a two pepper bowl. I make such for those with a delicate tongue.”
Rune looked down at Lemon, mouth tilted to the side. “Very well.”
“Now wait, ye know not what I can handle. Explain what a habbas pepper is please.”
The old man looked at the couple then offered his gap-toothed smile once more before
rummaging around his stall. He came back with a small, pretty orangy-red fruit. “Now this be a
habbas pepper, mistress. ‘Tis a hot little thing, this pepper, known well to make the largest,
meanest, toughest of men cry from only a tiny nibble.”
“If such a claim is true, then only would you need a little to spice a pot of stew. Would you
also not lose the flavor of the meal adding such heat?”
“It becomes sweeter as one cooks it, limon drop.” Rune kept the smile off his face.
“I must claim insult that one thinks my tongue delicate when never having met me before.”
“Lyndian fair is quite bland, ye must admit. Besides, rather would I have ye enjoy yer first
experience with Southeastern fare. ‘Tis the truth folks from those seas enjoy their food most
spicy and bold.” Seeing the stubborn look on Lemon’s face, and knowing it well—he could
never forget how stubborn she could be—he released a slow breath. “Mayhap, ye would taste a
bite from my bowl and see how ye like it.”
The old man’s lips pressed together not liking that solution, but wishing to make the sale, he
dished up the five pepper stew in a bowl of sourbread and handed it to Rune.
* * *
Jag stood there, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his sea coat—well, his father’s spare
sea coat, as his had been left on The Mistress Grey—quite uncertain as to what just happened.
Stumbling upon his parents had been purely accidental and he had expected lecture for leaving
the boat before he was supposed to, and yet…
“Is all well, lad?” Jasper slipped her arm through her grandson’s and tried to see what he
gazed upon. Seeing Rune with Lemon she smiled, pleased. “’Tis yer parents then? Did they do
aught to embarrass ye?”
“No, I… They offered no lecture.”
“So they caught ye sneaking about despite the High Keeper’s instructions?”
“I stumbled upon them in my effort to avoid them.” His nose wrinkled. “In that he is right, I
need improve my ability to sneak.”
Jasper laughed. “Aye, aye. And so what did he say?”
“That is what he said, that I needed to improve my ability. As he pulled Ma away, he says
next time not to get caught. Should they not have lectured?”
“Methinks he did, just not as ye anticipated. But if truly ye wish to learn, yer father is a fine
one to teach ye. Or if ye prefer not, then ye should read the Jumping Jax books. Aye, written they
are for children, but fine lessons do they teach and behind ye are in yer learning.”
“I am not a stupid man.”
“Never said such a thing, lad. But, as a pirate, ye have much to learn.” She held up his
timetell. “Such as keeping yer timetell from being lifted as well as learning to lift another’s
timetell.”
“And if I choose not to learn to lift other’s belongings?” He snatched the timetell and stuffed
it back into his pocket.
She sucked in a breath, sputtered. “Never say so! A Stone ye are, ‘tis…‘tis blasphemous for
one of our blood not to learn such skills.”
“Raised to be pirate I was not and I know not what to think of this sudden change. Ma…
always was she upstanding despite being Outcast and now she…” He waved his hand in her
direction. “She becomes what he is.”
“Have ye tried speaking with her father, to learn of him? Or have ye been sulking since
meeting him?”
“Injured I was and forced below, when have I had time to… Oi! What is he about?” Jag
pulled away from his grandmother and started towards his parents—his father was lifting a spoon
of stew to his mother’s lips. Having already passed that market stall, he knew just what the
proprietor was selling.
“What mean ye?” She never received an answer as Jag had bolted towards Rune and Lemon.
Too curious, she followed at a more sedate pace.
“Oi!” Jag pulled his mother back before she could accept the bite of stew Rune was offering
her. “What are you about?”
Rune returned the bite of stew to the bread bowl and looked at his son with brows raised.
“What am I about?”
“Aye! What are you about?” Jag made certain not to sound like his father, to not sound like a
docksider, though his Lyndian brogue was thick. He was sailor, not a fucking pirate, and he
would remain so despite what his blood might be. “Do you seek to burn my mother’s tongue?”
“She wished for a bite despite my effort to buy her a bowl of the less spicy stew.”
“And so you should have looked for different fare. Only does she know Lyndian… Ow!”
Jag slapped his hand over his arm as he stared down at his mother with widened eyes. “You
pinched me.”
“Aye, indeed I did. Yell not at yer father. I wished for the bite and I shall have the bite.”
“But… You know not how hot… I sampled Southeastern fare the year prior and ‘twas a
week before I could taste aught properly.”
Lemon crossed her arms over her breasts and stared at her son, not saying anything.
“Ma!” Jag’s mouth opened and closed several times before he found his voice. “I know not
if I like this new guise. What… Ow!” He rubbed the back of his head as he turned to look at
Rune. “You hit me!”
“’Twas a minor tap.” Rune handed the bowl of stew to Lemon, uncertain what Jag’s reaction
would be. “In need ye were of having yer brain jarred back into place, to be speaking so to yer
mother.”
“’Tis not normal her behavior.”
“That she wishes to experience new things is not normal? That she wishes to experience life
in a different way is not normal? Who are ye to say so, lad?”
“My mother she is, and this…this behavior, this way of speaking, is not how she is. You
come back into her life and now she speaks as a pirate, acts like a pirate. Soon ‘twill not surprise
me if she starts lifting timetells.”
Rune started laughing, bending over with his uncontrolled mirth.
“’Tis not funny.”
“Aye, my son, ‘tis most humorous.” Lemon snickered. “’Tis how I met yer father; I picked
his pocket. Came away with twelve gold debloos and a pack of playing cards. In the midst I was
of purchasing a pretty red ribbon and a mixing bowl for my mother when he found me. ‘Twas
Ma’s birthday and I wished to get her a present or two, but we had only funds for essentials that
month.”
Rune finally stopped laughing and smiled at Lemon. “Aye, and my heart. Ye forget ye stole
my heart.”
“Is all well?” Jasper finally arrived. Her grandson was not having an easy time of whatever
was going on. She thought it a good thing that Rune and Lemon were confounding their child.
“My son is of the impression that I act abnormally because I wish a bite of spicy stew.”
Lemon reached over to pinch him again, but Jag moved away and glowered at her for such
offense. “I wish for adventure, lad. Always have I desired it, to travel with yer father and see all
that was out in the world. I now have that opportunity and grasped it I have in strong fists with
nae plans to ever let go. ‘Tis…’tis unfair that ye would say such things to me after all the years I
have lived as Outcast.” Her lower lip trembled, but she quickly stilled it. To prove her point, she
lifted a bite of stew to her mouth and ate it with relish.
That is until the heat of the pepper began sizzling upon her tongue. She bit her lips together,
trying to hide her reaction, but her eyes were wide and pupils tiny pinpricks. Dots of sweat broke
out along her forehead.
“I warned ye ‘twas too hot.” The old man looked on worried. It was rare when those who
were warned did not yell at him. Shuffling about his stall he came back with a mug of milk.
“Drink this, ‘twill aid in cooling the fire.”
“Fine…I am fine.” But Lemon grabbed the mug and drank it down. When Rune tried to take
the bowl of stew, she turned away keeping him from it. “Did I not say I was fine. ‘Twas a shock,
naught more.” She returned the mug to the old man and just to be ornery took another bite of the
stew and another. It was very hot, but she was not minding the spice…very much, and was
grateful when the old man brought her another mug of milk.
“’Tis a fine woman ye have there, sir.”
Rune’s eyes were bright with both laughter and pride. “Aye, the finest. Another bowl of the
five pepper. Methinks my limon drop wishes to keep that one. Oh, and a two pepper for my son.
Mayhap the spice will wake up his sense of adventure.”
“I enjoy adventure plenty!” Jag grabbed the bread bowl from his mother and took a large
bite of stew, but then just as fast shoved it back into her hands and motioned to the old man to
please give him a mug of milk.
“Aye, yer son he is, limon drop.” Rune pressed a kiss to Lemon’s forehead, hiding his smile.
Jasper shook her head, trying not to laugh. She thought it the finest day in the making. Her
son was happy; that was not a smile she had seen on his face in so very long. “Go on ye two,
continue yer explorations, gladly will I pay for the stew; mayhap have a bowl of my own. It
smells most divine, sir. Though mayhap I will take a bowl of the two pepper as it has been some
time since last I sampled Southeastern fare.”
The sound of folks returning wormed its way into the gentle buzz of nothingness that Gin
floated upon, his glowmood slowly fading. He bolted upright from his spot on the floor,
dislodging Torin’s arm, and started searching out his clothing.
“No need is there to panic, pirate. If they wish aught from you they will knock upon the
door.”
“I…” He looked at his lover and found him nigh laughing at him. “Nae need is there to
laugh.”
“Am I not allowed to find you adorable?”
Gin glowered as he scratched his chest and grumbled, “Pirates are not adorable. They are
fearsome and dangerous, fierce.”
“And what of pirate children first learning to lift a timetell, are they not adorable?” Fisting
his hand in Gin’s hair, Torin pulled Gin’s head down and kissed him. “I will fuck you well this
eve.”
“Ye did that deliberately,” he panted. “Ye wished to make me forget ye called me adorable.”
“And yet here you still recall I said it.” Torin kissed him again. “And still you are adorable.”
Gaining his feet, he found his clothing and dressed. He looked at Gin. “Do you get dressed? In
need you are of seeing what your crew brought to the ship, yes?”
“Aye.” But he stayed where he was, watching Torin dress. A roguish smile tilted up the
corners of his lips.
“Is there a reason for staring?”
“I enjoy looking upon ye, is there aught wrong with such a thing?”
“No, indeed not. I enjoy looking upon you as well. Your fitness, I assume it comes from
sailing?”
“And also fencing and fighting. When we lived upon Argos, there was much fighting with
fist and sword. There were also races to see who could circle the dwellings first and mind ye
most of the dwellings were high in the trees.”
“Oh? Where and what is Argos?”
Gin blinked, surprised. “Those in the Far Eastern Seas must truly be isolated to not know of
Argos.”
“I know not what Jasper knows or others who sail the seas know. ‘Tis possible that those
who live the way of the sea know all about the various things that we who stay upon land do
not.”
“But should ye not know? That ye were responsible for the ryn Ferths finances, did ye
not…”
“Do you mean to ask, should I not have known about the movement of pirates? I know
which areas have the most pirates, and there are various pirates whose names are infamous, but
knowing all about pirates was not needed. Besides, many a pirate keeps such information about
themselves hidden when trading, yes?”
“Aye. So ye know naught of Argos?”
“Indeed not. I do hope you tell me. I could see happiness within your eyes while you spoke
of it.”
“Argos, ‘tis a hidden island in the Southern Seas where pirates live and thrive.” Gin
scratched his chest once more before lowering himself back onto his elbows, continuing to watch
Torin dress. “Me and Rum, ‘tis where we lived after Red gave Capt’n Boots The Argyn Ot.”
“Where do you live now?”
“We live once more upon Ganos. Capt’n Boots knew not that Red was his father until this
past autumn, only thinking him a grumbley old pirate…” Gin wrinkled his nose. “Never tell Red
I said he was old or grumbley, or ‘twill be a mighty lecture indeed. The House of Boots, they are
not ones to ever think of themselves as old.”
“How is it Captain Boots knew not that Red was his father?” Torin located his boots and
pulled them on, his eyes upon Gin, liking this side of him.
“He was taken as a babe from his mother, Mamé Boots. ‘Twas not until this past autumn
that he also learned that the one he thought his mother was not his mother. Later Red married
Mamé Boots, and wishing to know his parents, Capt’n Boots moved boat and crew to Ganos. I
must say, I loved being upon Argos very much, but ‘tis a fine thing to be once more upon Ganos.
I look most forward to Red’s summer celebration and the Annual Treasure Hunt. All those who
participate cheat.”
“All cheat because ‘tis all pirates?”
“Nae, nae. Even the most upstanding of citizens cheat. Ganos, ye must understand, was an
island settled by pirates and all those who reside there are still either pirates or descendants of
those very pirates. Those who live not as pirates still follow the very foundation of fine pirate
living.” Gin laughed. “Methinks all the conditioning Rum and I obtained upon Argos ‘twill do us
well. Mayhap we will even win this year. Unless Silver Midnight participates and then all is
lost.”
“Silver Midnight… Midnight, ‘tis a name I have heard before.”
“Aye, he and his papa, Blue Midnight, both fine pirates, both best not to fuck with. It
matters not how expert one is with their fists, ‘tis nigh impossible to defeat them, even if one
cheats. In fact, best they are at cheating. Capt’n Boots’ treasure, a son he is to Silver, but a fool
Capt’n Boots was and sent his treasure away. Now none can speak of him to the Capt’n and the
Capt’n holds nae thought of him. At least ‘tis what I heard.”
“And why is this?”
“’Tis Zasara’s decree, or so the van Wyrn said during one of her visits with Capt’n Boots.
She says the Capt’n’s treasure holds nae thought of the Capt’n and none can speak of the Capt’n
to him. We all hope this decree lasts not long, for ‘tis most…sad. We can all see that Capt’n
Boots is lost, that he looks about for his treasure without even realizing such a thing.” Gin finally
climbed to his feet and swooped Torin into his arms, spinning about the cabin. “Mayhap when all
is done, I would take ye to Argos, for also do they enjoy much merrymaking and dancing.”
“Realize do you that you dance with me naked?”
Gin laughed. “Aye, love, aye. ‘Tis a fine thing to do and only could it be better were ye
naked with me.”
“Mayhap next time.”
Gin stumbled. “Truly?”
“Capt’n.” Master Drum knocked on the door. “Master Stone insists ye make appearance
upon deck.”
“Oi! What are ye about getting me into trouble?” Rune’s voice could be heard shouting.
“’Tis what ye said, lad.” Master Drum laughed.
Gin bit his lips to keep from swearing, but was startled when Torin laughed. “Where is the
humor?”
“Rune attempted mischief and instead gained himself trouble. If you listen closely, Lemon is
offering him lecture.” He kissed Gin, still smiling. “Clothe yourself, pirate, and we shall see what
your crew has wrought. And mayhap later you might finish telling me of your life upon Argos.”
“And sex?”
Torin slipped his hand down and patted Gin’s ass, seduction curling his lips. “Mentioned I
did fucking you well.”
* * *
Gin crossed his arms and looked upon the smiling faces of his crew, Torin at his side. He
narrowed his eyes daring them to say a word about his time alone with Torin. Rune started to
open his mouth, mischief emanating off him in waves. Lemon attempted to pinch his arm, but
Rune caught her hand, grinning at her. Rune’s eyes became slits when it was apparent she
planned to kick his shin instead; her foot was already pulled back.
“Now, my limon drop…”
“Mayhap, Master Stone, ye will finally give up yer mannerless ways,” Gin looked on, his
face deadpan.
Rune’s head jerked around, outrage clear upon his face, then looked back at Lemon. “He
gets to tease? He gets to tease?”
“He spoke not about our private moments.”
Rune’s voice grew silky, his smile matching, “Ye mean such as when ye… Ow!” He looked
at his mother, rubbing the back of his head. “Ye hit me!”
“’Twas only a tap, old man,” Jag snorted and stepped out of range of both Lemon and
Jasper’s reach just in case.
Rune offered Jag a sideways glance. “A smart mouth ye have, son. ‘Tis…”
“How was the day’s haul, lads?” Gin interrupted, returning attention to him.
“Pleased you are for that bit of mischief,” Torin whispered by Gin’s ear.
“Aye, love,” Gin returned the whisper. “’Tis a fine and rare thing outwitting Rune.”
“Lads?” Lemon crossed her arms over her breasts. “And what of Jasper and me, do we not
count amongst the ranks?”
Gin’s lips spread into a wide grin. “My dearest Mistress Drop, ye and Gran are more than
just members of the crew. Without ye both, we would all be lost.”
“Oh now, lad, never tell me ye attempt to charm my woman?” Rune took a step towards
Gin. “’Tis a dangerous thing…”
“Hush, son. Gin has the right of it, ye would all be lost without Lemon and myself.” Jasper
waved Rune off. “’Twas a fine day at the market, Capt’n Gin. Streaker, Gator and Bass filled the
hold well with all the needed provisions to get us north to destroy The Mistress Grey and then on
to Ganos. Lemon tried her first bowl of Southeastern stew—Essoth Island stew to be exact.”
“And how did yer tongue fare, Mistress Drop? ‘Tis a spicy stew from Essoth.”
“’Twas most spicy but I enjoyed it the same. Torin, I brought ye some, if ye wish to try it.
Rune and I returned to the same stand before journeying back to the boat and convinced the old
stall keeper I did to part with his tureen.”
“Aye, Lemon is a most determined haggler.” Rune slipped his arm about her shoulders,
pulling her close, feeling content when she leaned into him.
“I look forward to trying this foreign fare, though admit I must to being wary of your use of
most spicy, my friend.” Torin’s eyes showed his worry.
“If a mug of milk is about, ‘tis not so bad, but the stall owner stated that did we add some
sweet ‘twould tame the heat.” She wrinkled her nose at the rhyme. Lemon then changed topics.
“Capt’n Gin, might I prevail upon ye to marry Rune and me before we set sail?”
Gin went perfectly still, never having thought to hear such a request.
“Capt’n Gin, is all well? Rune mentioned now that we have marriage cuffs, he would marry
us himself since I am treasure, except that he is not a capt’n and has not the authority to do so.”
“I…” Gin looked at Torin, trying to gauge his reaction. He needed to find his own marriage
cuffs so that he could make Torin truly his. “Now that I am capt’n…” He looked at Jasper. “I am
a capt’n, aye? None have declared me so, but that I took this boat as my own…”
“Aye, lad, a capt’n ye are and if it makes ye more certain, as a long time capt’n myself, I do
declare ye a capt’n for capturing yer own boat.”
Gin nodded. “Aye, as a capt’n I do have that authority. If…if ‘tis what ye wish, gladly
would I marry ye.”
“Ma, is this truly what you want?” Jag shuffled his feet about, his hands dug deep into his
coat.
“Aye, lad, ‘tis. Always have I wanted to marry yer father.”
“But twenty years has it been. Surely you know naught of him. The capt’n, mentioned he did
his mannerless ways.”
Lemon laughed. “Pirates lack a certain civility, ye should know this. Besides, hardly did he
have manners twenty years ago.”
“Never say so!” Jasper glowered up at her son. “Ye better have shown some manners, I
taught ye…”
Gin shook his head, his lips curled in a pleased smile. Gator, Streaker and Master Drum
were all snickering, even harder when Rune glared at all of them. ‘Twas how a family should be.
Knowing they needed to return to business he released a piercing whistle—he would have to
thank Golden Boots for such instruction. “Do ye have me marry ye or not? The tide is in and I
would not miss it. In need we are of finding The Mistress Grey, already are we behind schedule.”
“Aye!” Lemon grabbed Rune’s hand, excitement visibly shimmering. “Rune, do ye have the
cuffs?”
“How does such a thing work?” Torin asked. “Do ye just declare them married?”
“Nae, there are a few words needed to make it official. Rune, Lemon, ye ready?”
“We are.” Rune turned and faced Lemon his feelings plain upon his face. “Finally ready.”
“Very well.” Gin took a deep breath, his hands opening and closing with nerves. Mayhap
now he would truly feel the captain, though it did help to have had Jasper declare it so. “Lemon
Drop, are ye the faithful sort, always holding to yer word, keeping to yer promises? One who
will mind not when Rune loses every hair upon his head and his belly grows out and wide with
age?”
“Lad…” Rune glowered at him. “’Tis not the time for teasing.”
“Hush, Rune.” Lemon laughed. “Aye, aye, aye and aye. Never would I mind the missing
hair or a widened girth so long as he always loves me.”
“Good to hear. Rune Stone, are ye the faithful sort, always holding to yer word and keeping
to yer promises? One who will always lust for his wife and think she is most beautiful nae matter
how many years pass?”
“’Tis glad I am ye said naught about being old,” Lemon grumbled.
“Hush, limon drop.” Rune raised her hands and kissed her knuckles. “Aye, I am for always
and ever. Never will I lose my desire for this woman or think that her beauty has faded.”
“Very well, Lemon, if ye would place a cuff on Rune’s wrist and, Rune, ye place a cuff on
Lemon’s.”
All waited and listened for the snick of the cuffs locking, their breaths exhaling as the cuffs
latched tight.
“There now, as capt’n of this fine vessel, I pronounce ye married. Kiss her, uncle, and seal
the pact.”
Rune scooped up Lemon and kissed her soundly, laughing as he did so, his happiness too
much to contain. “Mine ye are, woman.”
“Aye, as ye are mine, ye scoundrel.” She covered his face with kisses, a smile gracing her
lips for each one.
“So that is a pirate marriage.” Torin tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Most
interesting.”
“’Tis the basic premise of it. Times there are when the words are different. Capt’n Rayn
Storm married his wife with nae warning to her, just lured her away from the crowd and slipped
his cuff upon her wrist.”
“Oh?”
“None too pleased was she and offered him a fattened lip for his troubles. ‘Twas a month
before he caught her once more and was able to successfully woo her.” Before Torin could ask
anything further, Gin cleared his throat. “I hate to keep the newly married from finding a
darkened corner, but if truly are we fully stocked, ‘tis time to set sail. Vengeance awaits.”
“Aye, Capt’n!” Everyone shouted.
“Master Stone, get us underway. Mistress Drop, mind ye taking Torin to the galley to
sample the stew?”
“Gladly would I do so.” She grabbed Rune and kissed him once more before allowing him
to step to. She watched him a moment longer then turned to Torin. “’Tis exciting to sample new
fare, experience new adventure.”
Gin picked up Torin’s hand and held it against his cheek. With a deep breath, refusing to
feel any embarrassment, he pressed a quick kiss to Torin’s palm. “That is, if ‘tis something ye
desire.”
“Genna…” Torin laughed hearing the throat clear and nodded his understanding.
“Apologies, my friend. Lemon is correct, ‘tis exciting to try new things. I will join you upon the
quarterdeck once we are fully on our way. Though a kiss I would have before we depart.”
Swallowing hard, Gin stepped forward and brushed his lips over Torin’s then quickly turned
away and rushed up to the quarterdeck.
Torin shook his head, softly laughing. “’Tis an improvement.”
“And only for so short a time together.” Lemon led the way down to the galley, nigh
skipping.
* * *
Settling himself at a table off the galley, Torin watched Lemon as she carried a tray with
bowls of stew and mugs of milk. At least he assumed it was mugs of milk.
“Admit I must in our short acquaintance, never have I seen you this happy.”
“I am most happy. Methinks being a pirate’s treasure…and now wife, suites me well.” She
placed the tray upon the table and then looked around. Seeing Streaker, she smiled and waved
him over. “Do join us, Master Streaker. A chance to speak with ye has yet come my way and
most curious I am about ye.”
“’Tis just Streaker, Mistress Drop; nae House do I claim for my own.” Streaker finished
placing a jug within the cool cabinet ignoring the familiar ache of loss. “How many peppers
within the stew?”
“I haggled a pot of five pepper and a pot of two pepper from the stallkeeper, but I serve the
two pepper. I wished not to cause Torin any distress. ‘Tis also milk in the mugs.” She looked at
Torin. “’Twas amazing how it aided with the spicy heat.”
“I thank you for that, my friend.” Torin found himself most ravenous after the time of play
with Gin and reached for a bowl of stew. It smelled incredible he had to admit.
“The stew Rune and I ate upon shore was in a sourbread bowl, but the stallkeeper wished
not to part with any of his loaves. I found that most strange, especially since I offered to buy.”
“Were there no bakeries on shore?”
“Aye, but the stallkeeper had bought out the baker’s inventory. Methinks did I have a proper
Keeper stare I could have gained those bread bowls.”
Streaker laughed as he settled himself at the table. “Mayhap Rune need teach ye how to lift
such things.”
“He offered to filch me a bundle, but I felt much guilt over the notion. ‘Tis the stallkeeper’s
livelihood making the stew, I wished not to cause him any hardship.”
Streaker laughed. “Doubt I do the stallkeeper would have felt much hardship. Most folks
who set up such stalls expect to have wares lifted.”
“Mayhap so, but I could not. Then again, mayhap I am not such a fine pirate’s treasure.”
“An ability to lift or not decides not the worth of a pirate’s treasure. A reason there is why
many pirates have legitimate business dealings to fall back upon.” Streaker pulled a bowl of the
stew in front of him. “Most pleased I am to hear that ye returned with a two pepper stew. I am
not one who enjoys too much spice; ‘tis my Elaquian upbringing.”
“Certain I was I heard the soft lilt of Elaquin in your voice.” Torin lifted a spoonful of stew
and stared at it, readying himself for what was to come. “What made you leave your shores?”
“What makes ye think I have?”
Torin looked at the pirate, the spoon still carrying the first bite of stew. “’Tis a gift of my
line to Read such things. I mean not to pry, but was curious. ‘Tis not often you see a citizen of
Elaquin leaving home.”
“If ye know that I left, surely ye know the why.”
“My ability would not tell me the exact why, only that ‘twas not of your true desire and
‘twas a sad event.”
Streaker ate several bites of stew, enjoying the fine flavor. The stallkeeper knew his way
about a stew. “Never have I spoken of the details. ‘Twas a painful day my flight from home
shores.”
“All is well. No need is there to speak of it. I should not have asked, especially without first
Reading the situation in full.”
“Nae. Mayhap ‘tis time. Mayhap ‘twould ease the burden to share it.”
Lemon reached across the table and placed her hand on Streaker’s arm, giving it a squeeze
of comfort before returning to her stew. “Methinks I like the two pepper more than the five
pepper, ‘tis more flavorful.”
“Aye. I like a bit of spice, enough to feel the heat, but I need not have my tongue scorched.”
Streaker grinned at Torin seeing that he still had not taken a bite. “Ah now, say not that ye lack
the courage to try something new?”
Torin narrowed his eyes, shifting his gaze between Streaker and Lemon, who also laughed,
and finally placed the bite within his mouth. And waited to have his mouth catch fire. When it
did not, he took another bite and a third before he felt the heat begin to grow.
“’Tis a fine stew.” But he picked up the mug of milk and gulped.
“Aye, ‘tis a very fine stew. Thank ye, Mistress Drop, for bringing some back.” Streaker
followed suit with his own mug of milk.
After several more bites and settling into comfort with his new friends, he began his story.
“Ma was a very lonely woman, my father having long left, and the company of a young lad was
not enough. When I was thirteen the son of the most influential family in our village started his
courtship and she blossomed. He brought her gifts and gifts for me as well. He acted every bit
the fine upstanding citizen, treating her respectfully, acting as if he were the luckiest of men to
have her upon his arm, and so when he wished to marry her, Ma was…” He rubbed the back of
his neck. “Never had I seen her so happy and so I gave my blessing.
“When I was fifteen, he found me a boat to start fostering upon, of which I minded not; I
wanted to go to sea. Ma and I wrote back and forth once a week without fail for two years, but
then the letters became erratic and she started mentioning accidents: her arm was broken making
writing impossible; her hand was sprained; her hip was paining her so she could not sit. Each
time I visited, brushed aside she did my worry.
“Upon my nineteenth year, my stepfather found me a small house, saying a man of my years
needed a place of his own. I wished to be excited, but I could only grow suspicious, for hardly
was I ever in residence and when I was upon shore my visits were short. Ma said I should be
thankful he treated me so well, thankful he gave me aught since most men would have sent me
packing long ago.”
“’Tis a lie,” Torin interjected. “Had my Alara a son, I would have loved him as my own
because I loved her. Doubt I do that Rune would treat Jag differently were he not his because he
is a part of Lemon.” He could see Lemon nod though he took his eyes not from Streaker.
“Aye, but she made excuses for why he would not want me around. Ma wished not to be
alone again. She wished…” Streaker gathered his thoughts.
“I apologize for interrupting. It upsets me when children of any age are treated so
wastefully.”
“I understand. And I agree with ye. Ma had changed by then, afraid of her own shadow,
afraid of offering a differing opinion than he. A day came when I returned for a visit and found
her bloody and barely conscious. Knew I did deep in my soul that bastard was responsible, but
she denied it, said she fell down the stairs. I took her to the local Keeper who held the same
suspicions as I did, for this was not the first time she had aided Ma. I went to the Guards, but
they would do naught, stated as Ma did: ‘twas only an accident.
“He came and retrieved her and said I was never to return. She was his wife and I was
naught but a bastard mistake draining her. I snuck in to see her, but she said she belonged with
him and ‘twas best if I went. I left; I wish I had not. When next I returned, for I could not stay
away, six months had passed. I snuck in once more and found her dead with him standing over
her, a dagger in hand. We fought and gladly did I kill him, using the same dagger he used upon
my mother.” A tear slipped down Streaker’s face remembering that long ago day. “The cur’s
father nigh owned the village and the Guards arrested me for both murders, ignoring the
evidence, ignoring the laws of Elaquin. I was accused of killing my mother with attempt to frame
my stepfather and of course the murder of my stepfather when he valiantly gave his life trying to
save my mother. Mayhap had I not used the same dagger, but in my heart I know that either way,
‘twould have been me who ended up detained.”
“How did ye escape?” Lemon once more reached across the table, placing her hand over
Streaker’s, holding it tight.
“’Twas the Keeper. Many visits did she make, keeping me well—for the facilities were not
kept proper—and mayhap sane. She offered me a fine friendship holding nae love for my
stepfather’s family. The night before I was to be hanged, since I was convicted of double murder,
she appeared within the compound and released me, aiding me, preventing my recapture. Once
outside, she stowed me away upon her brother’s boat heading to Mythek. When that boat made
shore, I stowed away upon another. I did this thrice more before I felt comfortable finding
employ, but never have I stayed long with one capt’n and never have I come any closer to
Elaquin than this island. In search I was for a new capt’n since landing upon Thesop, but none
impressed me until Capt’n Gin. Methinks I may stay awhile upon this boat for I like the familial
sense of the crew.”
“Many of us are family.” Torin finished his stew. “Cousin I am to Rune and nephew to
Jasper upon my father’s side. Gin’s father was elder brother to Rune.”
“Also was Gin raised by Gator’s grandfather, Red Boots.” Lemon added. She and Rune had
been speaking of what happened during all the years of their separation, of how he had found
Rum and Gin, wiggled his way onto each boat they sailed upon. “And Rune tells me that Master
Drum was upon his mother’s crew when Rune was a lad.”
Streaker nodded and stood, carrying the bowls to the deep washbasin. “I like that. I have
missed family.”
Lemon joined him, insisting upon aiding in the washing. “Gladly will I be of service down
here if ye need it. I wish to be useful, but all those on deck know what they are about and most
oft I sit and twiddle my thumbs.”
“Very well, Mistress Drop. I mind not having help with the dishes. If ye desire it, once these
pots of stew are finished, I am most certain I could recreate it, at least the two pepper. I know not
why, but I purchased a small basket of the habbas peppers, so should be simple.”
“Should I not have brought the pots back to the boat?” She bit her lip suddenly horrified.
“Ye are the cook…”
Streaker laughed. “Worry not over such things. Pleased I was to have some and an idea it
gave me for a meal or two.”
Torin joined Streaker and Lemon by the washbasin, picking up a drying towel. “Might I
help?”
“Shoo!” Lemon waved Torin away, the motions backing up her words. “Shoo! Go visit with
our fine capt’n, know I do ye wish it.”
“And easily that can be done once dishes are cleaned. I have less to do than you, my friend.”
“Not so, not so. Ye help Gin find his strength. Now shoo!”
* * *
Gin watched from the quarterdeck, his hands firmly on the wheel, as his small crew went
about setting sail. Once they were pulling away from the dock, Rune took a break from yelling
orders—Gin found this funny considering there were so few of them—and working the ropes to
join him on the quarterdeck. Rune grinned at him.
Gin ignored his uncle.
“Ah now, lad, surely ye know not what I plan to say.” Rune stepped closer to Gin.
“Touch my timetell and keelhauled ye will be.”
“Ha!” Rune moved away, leaving the timetell where it was. “Fine instincts ye have, Capt’n
Gin.”
“That ye made it yer mission to constantly steal my timetell…”
“A man must learn to always guard what is precious to him.”
“Aye, so ye say each time. Knowing that yer my uncle, more sense does it make. ‘Tis
something family does, try to teach those younger.”
“Ye begin to push the old comments, nephew.” Rune shook his head seeing Gin’s smirk.
“Be careful, or mayhap I will be forced to speak of yer relation with Torin.”
“When have ye stopped?” Gin found the wind and watched as the sails caught, jerking the
boat forward. “Nae need is there to answer that. Torin and I do well and that is all ye need
know.”
“’Tis pleased I am to hear it. Nae matter what ye think of the teasing, I mean ye nae ill. After
what ye and Rum suffered, ye both deserve to find happiness with yer treasures.”
Gin waved that off not wishing to think of those years before living with the House of
Boots. “Does Jag yet accept that ye are his papa?”
“Only has it been a day or three since he learned of me, so I try not to expect too much, but
‘tis hard not having his trust. He grew quite upset when I sought to introduce Lemon to the
Southeastern stew when never would I do aught to harm her.”
“’Tis a fine thing to know he is protective of his mother.”
“Aye. And ‘tis a relief that he accepted her marrying me. Now tell me, how does yer brother
fare with Capt’n Suede?”
“I know not.”
“What mean ye? A connection ye lads have and always…”
“I closed it off, giving him privacy.”
“So he cannot connect with ye were he in trouble?” Rune held no need for Gin to answer; it
was easy enough to see by Gin’s face.
Gin pushed the guilt away. Rum would be fine; he had Suede now to keep him safe.
“Married he is, if trouble arises he has his husband… Ow!” Gin held a hand to the back of his
head. “What is yer issue?”
“What sort of fool are ye, Ginger Py? Yer brother he is and ye should cherish him nae matter
why ye might hold anger. Yeryl and Zasara! Know ye what I would give to have Eltin returned
to me? Yer father…”
“Lived I have with Rum hanging upon me for all my life, I have done my responsibility by
him! That responsibility now resides with Suede.”
Rune rubbed his hand over his heart. “Ah, lad. How can ye not understand? Brotherhood,
‘tis a sacred bond. Never should ye squander such a thing.”
“Ye know naught of my relation with Rum!”
“Think me blind? I see yer jealousy of him. I see yer disdain for him. Never have ye given
him credit. Hard he worked to cease being less than and yet all ye ever did was make him feel
thusly. Ye made him weak so he would need ye, but then ye hate him for that very weakness.
One day, and I hope mightily ‘tis not too late, ye will realize yer mistake and finally see the man
Rum is and not the pest ye think him to be.” Rune walked away, leaving the quarterdeck, nearly
running Torin down in the process. “Excuse me, cousin.” He started to leave but stopped. He
gazed up at the quarterdeck then looked out to sea, his hands curled tight into fists. “My
apologies.”
“Is all well?” Torin knew all was not well, he had been listening to the argument; it having
been loud enough to carry down to the lower deck. He was not certain why he even asked other
than some odd compulsion to aid those about him.
“A fool he is and ‘tis for that I apologize. One should not have a fool for treasure.” Rune
returned to what he was about, putting his anger into his work.
Torin hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, almost afraid to climb. For a moment he began to
wonder once more what he was about, what he had been dragged into, if this was what he
wanted. But the words of the van Wyrn whispered in the back of his mind keeping him from
bolting into the captain’s quarters: Gin had many doors needing opening, rooms to air out.
Gin was a complicated man and he had made the choice to figure him out. He would not
run. He just hoped that in the end all was well and that his treasure was not false gold and glass
gems.
With a determined set to his shoulders, he climbed the stairs and found Gin holding the
wheel but his feet were stomping and kicking. Gin was swearing too. “Is it normal to argue with
one’s first mate, pirate?”
Silence.
“Well then,” he started to turn about, “I will descend to the cabin and leave you to your
temper.”
“Nae! I would have ye here.”
Torin stopped and waited. “Why do you argue with Master Stone?”
“Rather would I not speak of it, the nosy bastard.” Gin looked to see where Torin was, why
he had not come to his side. “’Tis none of his or anyone’s concern.”
Torin sighed and then leaned against the railing, staying where he was. Gin really was a
complicated man. “He thinks you fool.”
“He may think such if he wishes, but he is the one who is foolish. Rum is my brother and…”
“And you think folks care more for him than you?”
“Always have they paid him more attention. I did better than he and yet ‘twas he who
received the praise, the extra time.”
“Mayhap because ‘twas he who needed it. Is that not what one does when another struggles,
offer aid and words of praise, give encouragement?”
Gin tightened his hands on the wheel knobs, twisting them. To hear it put that way, his
complaints sounded like that of a spoiled child jealous of another’s attention. Was he so bad?
Stupid Ellis.
“Why do ye stand as if ready to leave? Are ye… Are ye nae longer wanting to be with me?”
“Never did I say such.”
“But ye stay by the stairs, holding yerself away like a man nae longer interested.”
“Times there are, pirate, that I know not what I do. You are not an easy man and yet I would
not want you to be other.” Torin finally left the railing and walked over to Gin, caressed his arm.
“I also dislike yelling, but I knew you needed to vent your frustrations.”
“Ye think me a horrible man, ‘tis why ye…”
“No, I do not. I think you a most complicated man and one who has need to release himself
from the resentments he feels. But I wish not to be known only as the man who aids you in this
endeavor. I do not want that to be the only thing I do upon this boat. I am more than that.”
“My treasure ye are.”
“And that is all I am to be, treasure?”
“Treasure is most important.”
“I am still a man who wishes to be seen as more. Do you not wish to be more than Rum’s
brother? Do you not wish to be seen as Gin Py, Extraordinary Pirate? A pirate both loved and
feared?”
Gin opened and closed his mouth several times, only a strangled syllable emitting each time.
Forcing himself to keep his mouth shut so he ceased looking like a beached fish, he pinched his
lips trying to come up with a proper answer.
Finally, he whispered, “Aye.”
Torin walked over behind Gin and, after wrapping his arms about Gin’s waist, kissed his
neck. He rested his chin on his lover’s shoulder. “A pair we make, pirate.”
“I love my brother.”
“Never did I doubt it. Did Rune?”
“Accused me he did of keeping him weak and then hating him for it. I… Mamé said to
watch over him for I was his older brother. ‘Tis all I have been trying to do.”
“And yet you have felt jealousy.”
“I…” Gin shook his head, feeling emotion building behind his eyes and clogging his throat.
“I want to matter.”
“You do.”
“I feel these things and I know they come from being ryn Ferth and…”
“And you wish not to be ryn Ferth.”
“Nae, could I be anyone else, I would in a trice, but I am unable to cease being what I am or
having these feelings. Rum is my brother; I should not hate him. I should not wish to keep him
weak. I should not feel such jealousy.”
“Know you the difference betwixt you and the ryn Ferths?”
“There is none.”
“Did you not state them that first day in your cabin? You do not do the things they do. You
do not abuse children or force yourself upon others. Never would you do the things that Doshan
has done. But the biggest difference betwixt you? You do not accept these urges and feelings as
right and just.”
“I wanted Papa to dance with me, but always was I covered in dirt and leaves and mud and
so disallowed inside the work room while he made chocolate. Rum, always was he clean because
he said he was not good at adventures, but almost always did he beat me at wrestling.”
“Because he knew not his own strength. He knew not what he was capable of.”
“As his brother I should have shown him, but… I resented…”
“I know naught of having a sibling, always was it just Mother and me, so I cannot say what
is right and what is not, but I do know that sometimes the feelings we have as children cling
within us despite becoming adults. I resented Mother for being sick, but I loved her so much and
wished not for her to suffer.”
“I am the older brother…”
“Mayhap ‘tis time to just be his brother.”
“’Tis why I… ‘Tis why I closed the…the connection ‘twixt Rum and me. I thought since he
is now married that he should…”
“You placed responsibility for him with his husband?”
“Aye,” it was another whisper. Gin could tell by the sound of Torin’s voice he had
disappointed him. “I wished to confront the ryn Ferths without him knowing. They are my House
and I should deal with them. And now ye feel as Rune does, that I am a fool.”
“You are not the only one the ryn Ferths treated with such foul disregard.”
“But they are my House.” He bit his lips together fighting the emotion still knawing at him.
“Please do not think me fool. ‘Tis yer opinion that I hold most dear.”
“Surely ‘tis too soon to feel such emotion.”
“Nae, for ye are my treasure.” Gin placed his hand over one of Torin’s and held it tight.
“Very well, I think you not a fool, but I think you hold some foolish notions. A start you
have made with recognizing your most confusing emotions regarding your brother. Now, what
are my duties aboard this fine vessel? Surely there is something for me to do besides pleasure
you.”
* * *
“Three blasts emblazoned starboard bound!” The call came several hours later as the sun
was beginning its descent.
“What does that mean?” Torin looked about, concerned that everyone was scrambling.
“’Tis…” Gin stared at the oncoming boat. The Tempter. “Fuck, ‘tis Capt’n Nova Blast. Once
Rum and I met him when we sailed with Capt’n Mack to the Wild Coast.”
“Is he a cur?”
“Nae, but he is fierce and feared; revered. Capt’n Mack once said Nova is a prince upon
Grand Temos in the Far Western Archipelago, the king’s eldest son and heir.”
“’Twould explain why he is revered.”
“Mayhap. But I understand not what he does upon these seas, ‘tis why everyone is alarmed.
I would have ye go below to the cabin.”
Torin stayed where he was. “Most pirates use the old tongue, translating their names to hide
their identities, do they not?”
“Aye, ‘tis so.”
“Know you the translation of Nova Blast?”
Gin worked through the translation, Rum having always been quicker. In a moment like this
normally he would have connected with his twin, but… Mayhap he was the fool. Gin wondered
if he should re-establish communication with Rum, admitting that he was beginning to miss his
brother.
“Well?”
“My apologies, love. Nova Blast translates to Nerak ryk Baj. Why?”
“You wish to know what he does in this part of the world, methinks he looks for payment
upon the boat Doshan bought from him. This boat.”
“This boat?”
“Yes. All recent objects that Doshan purchased have not been properly paid for. That he
holds no funds, most of his bank drafts have been returned or rejected.”
“And one of these purchases was this boat?”
“Yes. If you wish, I could go below and quickly create a receipt showing that you purchased
the boat from Doshan. ‘Twould add to the mess Doshan finds himself in. Or, if you wish a
legitimate transaction, I could actually pay Prince Nerak, give him a bank draft from the re-
appropriated funds.”
“Do it, though I know not if I will use it. Such an action goes against my pirate’s pride, but I
wish to remain flexible for I know not how the good capt’n will receive the news of my
ownership.”
“I understand. Remain safe, pirate. I will patch you together if necessary, but rather I would
not.” Torin kissed Gin’s neck once more before heading below.
Putting aside his anger, Rune returned to the quarterdeck. “A plan do ye have?”
“Swagger.” Gin handed the wheel to Rune. “I will then proceed from there.”
Captain Nova Blast was an imposing sight as he came out on deck. He wore a black
stocking cap pulled low upon his head and a yullie skin coat tight about him. He also wore a
mid-thigh length silk cloth wrapped about his waist over tan breeches—the colorful pattern
indicating his House. Normally a man of his lineage would only be wearing the wrap, but when
he sailed so far from home shores breeches were always worn beneath.
He stood at the railing of his boat stroking a hand over his dark beard, which ended at a
point several inches below his chin, as he studied the few crewmembers upon…
His hand stilled and his brow furrowed, then disgust lifted the upper right corner of his lip,
flushing his deep golden skin.
“Did ye give my boat such a horrible name?” The usual rough parlance of a pirate was
smoothed out by the sing-song quality of his Far Western seas dialect.
“Nae, ‘twas the name she came with when she became mine.” Gin crossed his arms over his
chest. “But I hold yer sentiments, Capt’n Nova, ‘tis a most awful name and soon I plan to change
it.”
“Then ye know me?”
“Once we met when I was a lad of twenty while sailing with Capt’n Mack Boots to the Wild
Coast—I had blond hair then. Might I ask what ye do selling such a fine vessel to one such as
Doshan ryn Ferth? Assume I do that ye did indeed sell it to the cur?”
“Aye, ‘twas sold and ‘tis a mistake that I will never make again. Where is the bastard? He
owes me much for this vessel.”
“Last I saw him he was being detained by Lyndian Guards for wanton destruction of
property, trespassing, and entering a locked residence with blatant disregard.”
“Do ye sail under him?”
“Nae. As ye stated, a bastard he is and I have taken my due for abuses dealt.”
“What is yer name, lad?”
“Capt’n Gin Py.”
“’Tis my boat ye stole.”
“Please come aboard and we shall discuss this like the decent pirates we are.” Gin stepped
away from the railing, angling his body indicating further the invite. “Nae need is there for a
fight when we can share a glass of fine smoked yiska from the Lyndian Highlands in my cabin.”
Nova narrowed his eyes. “How many years?”
“Twenty-five.”
Nova placed his hand over his heart, his face filled with ecstasy at the very thought, and with
a large smile, leapt across the distance between the two boats, following the other man to the
captain’s quarters. If there truly was a bottle of twenty-five year yiska, who was he to pass it up
since most oft it was the young Highlands smoked yiska on the market and they never tasted
properly aged to him.
“Might I ask where ye came upon such bounty?”
“The previous capt’n, a horrid sense of décor he had, but a fine taste in yiska was his. Where
he found such a treasure, I would like to know.” Entering the cabin, Gin found Torin sitting
behind the large desk scribbling something upon a scroll of parchment. “Torin, I would
introduce, Capt’n Nova Blast. Capt’n Nova, I introduce Torin eth Welex. This vessel ‘twas
indeed his, love.”
Torin stood. “Is all well?”
“We aim to hash out such things. If I must, a payment I will offer, though rather would I see
Doshan punished further.”
Nova removed his stocking cap, revealing a hairless, polished head, which he rubbed—he
hated sailing the colder climes. “If I am not mistaken, a ryn Ferth ye are, and yet ye claim not to
sail under Doshan. I would have the truth for I take unkindly to lies.”
“The ryn Ferth I am and I hold a fine hatred for my cousin.” Gin moved over to the overly
wrought cabinet holding the liquor and pulled out the bottle of yiska. “Would ye like any yiska,
love?”
“Mayhap a finger’s worth, no more.” Torin rolled up the parchment he had been working
upon and put it aside, though he stayed where he was, uncertain of what he should do.
“Do ye explain then why ye have this boat?” Nova took a seat by the table, waiting
anxiously for the yiska.
“I took it of course. The bastard deserved it. Emptied his warehouse and fired the rest of his
boats. ‘Twas a shame that, but I had not the time to take them and sell them to the highest
bidder.” Gin passed out the goblets, then sat at the table. He motioned to Torin. “Do ye join us?
As the one most knowledgeable with the ryn Ferth fortune, yer input would be appreciated.”
“Ye took Doshan’s man of affairs?” Nova took a sip of yiska and sighed in approval. “A
most fine yiska, I must say.”
“’Tis indeed.” Gin savored his own sip. “Torin was Doshan’s man of affairs, but more is he
my treasure, ‘tis just a matter of coincidence the other matter. Although, in truth, Torin would be
my man of affairs considering the fact that I am the true ryn Ferth heir.”
“One of Whiskey’s lads?” Delight lit Nova’s aqua eyes.
Gin choked on his sip of yiska. “Excuse me?”
“Yer one of Whiskey’s lads. Met him I did, though I recall not the occasion as I was only
five, but my father loves recalling the day yer father saved my life.”
Gin could do nothing but stand there and blink. Why would this man be calling his father
Whiskey?
“Ye knew not that yer father sailed?”
“I… Knew I did he sailed. Of course he sailed, ‘twas part of his business, but never have I
heard Eltin tyr Vens be referred to as Whiskey Kake.”
“Nae House name did he carry, only was he known as Whiskey. A legend he was in the Far
Western Archipelago, not only for the daring save of my life, but for his knowledge of
chocolate.”
“Was my mother with him?”
“This I know not. Nae mention of her was ever made during each retelling of the story, but
‘twas well known he was a married man with twin sons—one lad his heir, the other his wife’s.
‘Twas also known that his wife was heir to the ryn Ferth dynasty.”
Gin nodded, understanding. “My father saved yer life?”
“Aye. Do I assume ye wish to hear the tale?” Nova asked after savoring another sip of his
yiska.
“Please. Seven I was when my parents were killed and to hear…” Gin looked away. “I only
know them through a child’s eyes.”
“I understand. ‘Tis the same for me regarding my mother; I lost her when I was eight and
grateful I am for my father’s stories.” The large pirate looked out the bank of windows at the rear
of the cabin. “’Twas a day as any other, fair and hardly a breeze. My father…”
They were interrupted by a swift two-note knock on the door, but before Gin could bade
whomever to enter, Jasper opened the door and strode inside.
“I apologize, lads, but a feeling I had that I should be here. Keeper Sight.”
“Were ye aware that Papa was known as Whiskey?” Gin tightened his hand about his goblet
then relaxed it, fearing he might break the crystal.
“Aye.”
“Was he pirate then?”
“Only in spirit, lad.” Jas joined the men at the table after pouring herself a bit of the yiska.
“Please, continue with the story, sir.”
“And ye might be?” Nova preferred to be acquainted with those he conversed with.
“Jasper Stone, child of Rolling and Onyx Stone. And aye, the Jasper Stone who destroyed
Qeltic Isle thirty years past.”
He waved that off. “Always has my father said that if one is pushed to such extremes then a
good reason there was for it and those upon the receiving end most likely deserved it. We from
the Far Western Seas see things differently.”
“Then mayhap I should consider making my home there, for I hold nae love for explaining
myself over and over again. Now, please continue yer story. Times there were when Whiskey
would speak of his travels and never did I know if he kidded or not.”
“This one is most true.” Nova then continued on with his story: “’Twas a day as any other,
fair and hardly a breeze. My father and mother enjoyed walking the various paths about the
island and since I learned to walk I had joined them with instruction never to wander. But for this
day I had always obeyed their wishes. My father says he knows not what drew me from their
side—never did I tell him when he asked—only that I had wandered from the path.
“Grand Temos is thick with jungle and contains many wild creatures, most harmless birds,
small scavengers, and treescreamers, but the jungle is also home to the spotted jungle cat. Our
paths are guarded by spells to keep the dangerous cats away, ‘tis why I was always warned to
never leave them. My father in a great panic, uncaring for his own safety, plunged into the jungle
in search of me, my name loud upon his lips. My mother remained upon the path calling for me,
staying behind in case I returned.
“My father found me calling to the treescreamers, imitating them, and demanded I return to
him. As I was about to run to his side, he ordered me to stand still, and removed the bow he
always carried upon his back, but in his fear he fumbled, dropping the weapon, spilling all the
arrows from his pack. A jungle cat stalking the treescreamers in the branches of the trees had
sighted me, its tail flicking back and forth as it crouched. Tears streamed down Papa’s face as he
screamed at the cat, still trying to gather his bow and arrows, hoping to scare it away. I had
turned and was staring at this animal, showing no fear as I attempted to imitate its call. It was a
beautiful animal, its’ eyes a fine golden amber color.” Nova motioned to Torin. “Much like yers.
“The cat tensed its muscles and sprung from the tree. My father was certain he had lost me
to the cat, threw down his bow and charged in, willing to give his life for mine, when a large
body crashed into the cat, taking it down to the ground, and began wrestling with it. The cat
screamed in rage at being thwarted. I ran to my father, who scooped me up, and we watched as
this man battled the cat. Never before had he seen such a sight. This man was sure to lose,
greater men, larger men had fallen to these cats. And yet he was victorious, gaining control of the
cat and spelling it asleep.”
“Papa wrestled a jungle cat?”
“And won. Though he did not come away uninjured. He received a slash here.” Nova drew a
finger over his cheek from an inch below the far corner of his left eye down to the curve of his
jaw. “Here.” He raked four fingers over his right bicep. “And here.” He raked four fingers again
over his left hip. “Yer father had been about exploring, searching the area for a rare variety of
cocoa bean known to grow in our region of the Archipelago, when he heard the yelling. He
mentioned he had two sons not much younger than myself and had reacted without thought.”
Jasper nodded. “Sounds much like Whiskey. And explains the scar upon his face. He said
‘twas a jungle cat, but never did I believe him for he said it with such a broad smile. Though
‘twas after returning from that trip that Tarna began traveling with Whiskey. Excuse me again,
please continue.”
“My father brought Whiskey back to the path, telling my mother that this man saved my life.
He promised he would tell her what happened, but first they needed to return home and aid my
rescuer. That night my father did the first of many retellings of the tale. Whiskey was given
rights to whatever cocoa plants he might discover and was given the honorary title of prince
upon Grand Temos. My father grieved upon learning of Whiskey’s death and sent his
condolences. ‘Twas how we met Doshan. He arrived several months later wishing to claim the
rights given to Whiskey, saying he and yer father had been like brothers. My mother declared
that never did Whiskey find what he looked for, but I know not if this is so, except to say that my
mother was a fine judge of character, mayhap holding a bit of the Sight.”
Nova picked up the bottle of yiska and topped off his goblet. “I suppose ye wish to ask why
did I sell this boat to Doshan?”
“Aye.” Gin held out his goblet to be refilled.
“I build boats and he admired her well. I knew not that his bank draft would be returned or
that he would not answer my queries.”
“I apologize for this,” Torin murmured, staring at his untouched goblet. “Never did I mean
for you to be troubled, but aimed for Doshan to gain the ire of those he did business with. ‘Twas
my form of vengeance you see.”
“Oh?”
“I hold him responsible for the death of my wife and child. Yes, her pregnancy had been
difficult, but he knew this and still he came into my home, dared yell at her, and violently shoved
her down. Into labor she went a month premature and slipped away not long after our daughter.”
Torin stood and left the table. He still felt the pain of losing Alara, but he was shocked that it hurt
not as much. He was uncertain how to feel about it. Yes, he had known that upon entering the
relation with Gin that he moved forward, that he accepted a new path for his life, but the urge to
scream, the need to strike no longer sat upon his shoulders or filled his heart.
Gin followed and placed a hand upon Torin’s shoulder, surprised by his action, but he knew
not what else to do. Had he not seen his father do something similar when his mother was upset?
“Vengeance has been yers, love.”
“But I gain you trouble.”
“Mayhap, mayhap not, it matters little so long as Doshan suffers.” Before he could stop
himself, he placed a kiss on the back of Torin’s neck. “Shall we return to the table and finish our
business with the fine capt’n?”
Torin nodded and both men returned to their seats. “There was only so much vengeance I
could rain down upon Doshan. I am not a physical man, but I did have access to his finances and
‘tis there I struck, leaving him quite poor without his knowledge of it.”
“And then left his employ with the true heir to the fortune?”
Torin laughed. “I suppose I did. Though, to speak true, ‘twas Gin who kidnapped me.”
“For ye are my treasure.”
“If he is treasure, lad, why does he not wear yer cuff?” Nova finished his goblet of yiska and
for good measure poured himself one last drink. When would he have the chance to experience
twenty-five year smoked yiska from the Lyndian Highlands?
“I have nae cuffs. I…”
“Gin and I still gain knowledge of each other.” Torin placed his hand over Gin’s wishing
him not to feel as if anything was wrong. “Mayhap when we reach Ganos, we will commission a
set. Certain I am that there are those he would wish to be present for such an event. Now, would
you have me write out a proper bank draft for the purchase of the boat? My word that ‘twill not
be returned.”
“Nae. Treasure Hunter is yers, Capt’n Gin, son of Whiskey. ‘Tis the least I can do when ‘tis
my life I owe to yer father.”
“And what of Doshan?”
“I may continue my efforts to collect from him. Trouble he does deserve. Do tell me, Gin,
was Doshan like a brother to yer father?”
“Nae. Long have the ryn Ferths and the tyr Venses been at each other’s throats. Even when
Papa fell in love with Mamé, it mattered little their feelings to either family, too happily
disowning them when they married.”
“Bertun did try to make right with yer mother,” Jasper mentioned. “Had they fully
reconciled, who knows what path yer life would have taken.”
“Aye, but they did not. Perta and Doshan took what was not theirs after Mamé was gone and
Rum and I ended with naught.” Gin stood from the table, wishing to put the topic behind them.
“I thank ye for yer kindness, Capt’n Nova, the boat will be cherished and well cared for.”
“I have nae doubts. If ye desire it, the rights to the cocoa beans are yers as they were yer
fathers.”
“I have naught to do with chocolate, in truth just the thought of it makes me ill. But, when
next I see my twin, I will mention it to him, for he may wish to claim the rights. Never has he
lost the love for such things.”
“’Tis done then. I take it that yer brother is the tyr Vens?”
“Aye.” Gin walked over to the liquor cabinet and pulled out one of the several bottles of
twenty-five year yiska and presented it to Nova. “’Tis yers; a gift.”
* * *
Everyone, even Streaker who had heard the commotion, was waiting around the door to the
captain’s quarters, their curiosity getting the better of them. Were they going to lose the boat?
Surely the captain would never allow such a thing. Relief swept through the crew seeing that
both Gin and Nova were smiling. Nova cradled a bottle of yiska as if daring anyone to take his
precious gift.
“Surely there is aught else ye could be up to than milling about like anxious hens?” Gin
raised his brows as he took in the six faces.
“Hens!” Rune spat. “Lad…”
Lemon started laughing and poked Rune. “Aye, husband, hens.”
“’Tis not so. We…”
“Aye, hens, husband. Now, everyone return to yer duties. Soon we ready to catch the wind.
Remember we seek vengeance. Jag, after Lador Island where was The Mistress Grey headed?”
“Handol Isle. I was told ‘twas two days southwest of Lador. But only were they spending a
partial day upon Handol.”
“’Tis why I was about to ask for the next destination.”
Jag nodded understanding his mother’s line of thought. “Gylway.”
“Ye heard the lad, set our sails for Gylway. There we shall await the bastards.”
Gin grinned broadly when everyone stepped to. “Methinks, Master Stone, Mistress Drop
soon becomes first mate.” He laughed when Rune offered him a rude gesture.
“Why such a small crew?” Nova looked about, tallying only nine aboard the vessel.
“’Tis all I need for the voyage we are upon. Once I return to Ganos, there I will gather the
crew this boat should have.”
“And this vengeance? I assume ye seek it upon a boat with full crew?”
“Falsely accused of a vile act my younger cousin was,” he pointed to Jag, “and dared they
tried to hang him without proper trial. If not for the van Wyrn, ‘twould have been done with nae
one the wiser. Besides, little does it matter the size of my crew, for a fine crew do I have. Ye
recall I sail with Jasper Stone and well I remember the stories of her prowess of boarding a
vessel with nae detection, nigh taking command of said vessel without the aid of another.”
“Is that what caused ye to be so nervous when first I approached ye, lad?” Jasper slipped her
arm through Gin’s. “That I boarded without yer knowing?”
“Aye. ‘Tis a disconcerting thing to have such a thing happen, to know that one is not as
clever or as aware as one thought.”
She laughed then kissed his cheek. “’Tis nice to know.”
“Best be off with ye. Ye heard Mistress Drop.”
“Aye, aye. I heard. A fine match she is for my son. Keep him upon his toes she will.” Jasper
began to join the rest with readying the boat.
“Mistress Stone, take the wheel. Certain I am ye know the whereabouts of this island we
seek. A need I have to study the maps of the area, to begin plotting our return trip home. I wish
to be prepared for after we destroy The Mistress Grey.”
“Aye, capt’n.” Jasper changed directions and started towards the quarterdeck, but stopped
and looked back at Gin. “Mind would ye if I started teaching Torin to handle a sword? Methinks
‘twould be a fine thing considering the small scare we shared this day.”
Gin went still, realizing that Jasper spoke true. Torin was defenseless. He could have kept
him safe, but if he had fallen, Torin would have been without protection. “Aye, a sound notion,
and I agree. Mayhap ye might start the lessons this eve?”
“If ye offer, Jas, would ye teach me as well?” Lemon called from where she stood with
Rune. “I would know how to sword fight.”
“Aye, gladly.” With that said, Jasper continued on her way.
“Capt’n Jasper Stone is upon yer boat and yet ye call her only mistress?” Nova raised an
eyebrow.
Gin thought about that for a moment. “She has said naught to me about it, though I have also
called her Gran since once was she married to my grandfather. When next I have a chance I will
ask her.” He walked with Nova to the starboard railing. “Do ye come across Doshan, try not to
kill him. When the day comes for him to die, rather would I have it be my blade that sends him
to The Firebreath. Besides, in need he is of discovering that nae longer does he own a debloo.”
“If I see him, I will make certain he becomes aware of it.” Nova dipped his head and then
pulled his cap back upon his bare head. “May Yeryl and Zasara offer ye brisk winds and clear
sailing, my friend.”
“And ye as well.”
* * *
Gin returned to the cabin after parting company with Nova, both boats once more heading in
their various directions. He found Torin still sitting at the table staring at the goblet of yiska and
grew concerned by the pensive look upon his face.
“Why do ye despair, love?”
“Never did I wish to cause others financial troubles. Only did I wish to ruin Doshan’s life,
not harm others.”
“Mayhap, if ye like, we might pay off various debts, those ye believe have financial woes,
but inform them that nae longer is Doshan in charge of the ryn Ferth fortune, that I am. Also
should ye inform them that nae longer does he have access to said fortune and should not be
allowed to buy upon his name.”
“You mind not covering his debts?”
“It depends upon the debt. For this boat, aye, gladly would I have paid. If there are those ye
believe should be paid, then pay them.” He walked over to Torin and placed a hand on his
rounded cheek. “’Tis a fine heart ye have.”
“I hate that man. I hate him so very much.” Tears threatened and Torin quickly rubbed at his
eyes, tired of allowing Doshan to grieve him so.
“Mayhap we should pity him instead.”
“Did we, and a fit he would have.”
Gin laughed, leaned down and stole a kiss. “Aye. Would that not be the point?”
“Indeed.”
“Did ye mean it, that we would marry once we reached Ganos?”
“Ever have you known me to lie?” Torin grabbed Gin’s coat and deepened the kiss.
Reaching for Gin’s breeches, he pulled open the row of buttons and released the hardening prick
within. Dropping to his knees, he brought the cock into his mouth, taking what he wanted before
Gin could think about what he did.
“Fuck…Torin…aye!” His fingers tangled into Torin’s wheaten hair, looking for balance,
afraid his knees might give out. His hips moved and Torin hummed, suckled more firmly. He
was engulfed in ecstasy, even more so when Torin looked up at him, pleasure in his eyes.
Everything intensified when he realized that Torin liked sucking him. When he felt the hand
gently wrap around his testicles he was undone. He came, his body jerking with each splash of
his seed. His cries of orgasm…he cared little if anyone heard them, the pleasure of his release
too good.
In that moment, as Torin wrung every last bit of his orgasm from him, he knew he loved
him.
Mack Boots stood at the bow of his boat, his hip resting upon the rail, and stared out at the
horizon, the sun just beginning to rise, pinks and reds and shades of orange filling his family’s
cove where his Traveler was docked. He puffed slowly on a cigarillo, releasing the smoke in
small rings as he thought about the past. He could still hear her laughter, feel the brush of her
hair against his hands. There were times he could swear he caught the scent of her sweet
perfumed soap on the wind.
He understood well the lost and longing look that would appear upon his little brother,
Goldie’s, face at odd moments, feeling it as Mack did every day since the loss of his own
treasure. Knowing one’s treasure was out there but being unable to claim said treasure was an
awful curse to live with. It was a horror he would only wish upon his worst enemies.
“’Tis a horrid habit, Uncle Mack.” Zeti ayn Aryn placed her hands upon the railing and
watched her breath form in the cold air of late winter.
He raised his brows seeing the young girl. He looked about, wondering if her mother was
with her. Surely Betrys would not allow her daughter to traipse about unescorted. If she did, he
thought he would have to have a word with the High Keeper—‘twas not safe for a child of nine
to wander the docks alone.
Zeti laughed, her silvery blond curls bouncing about her face. “Worry not about my
appearance. I will leave the same way I arrived with none the wiser to my actions.”
“Not if I tell yer mother.”
She waved that off, not in the least bit concerned. “How many times did you sneak off
looking for adventure when you were my age?”
“Too many times to count,” he answered before he could stop himself. And the times he got
caught his ass had been sore for a week. Of course his grandfather had then taken him aside and
explained how better next time not to get caught. He smiled then laughed. “A trial ye will be for
yer parents.”
She offered him a cheeky grin, and spoke for a moment as a pirate would, “’Tis the proper
way, aye?”
He laughed again. “Aye, ‘tis so. Though tell not Paisley I admitted such a thing, she will
remind me well such words passed my lips when next I think to lecture her.”
“But your daughter I am not.”
“Nae, ye are not, though nae less precious of a child. And truly ‘tis not safe for one yer age
whether ye be male or female.” He puffed again on his cigarillo. He knew his smoking was a bad
habit, which was why he now only did so when he felt a great weight sitting upon his mind.
“Why do ye visit me, poppet?”
“In need you are of gathering your crew and searching out Master Py. He is in much
danger.”
“Is he not with GB on The Argyn Ot?”
“Not with Uncle Boots. Gained Master Py has a boat of his own, fine and swift, his crew
most valiant, but ‘tis a small crew, and soon to be overwhelmed by those who should know
better the way.” Zeti rubbed her forehead. The dream had been insistent, refusing to abate even
after leaving her bed and warming milk within the kitchen. Knowing she needed to deliver the
message, she wrapped herself in her warmest coat and slipped through the mirror in her room in
order to speak with Mack, to inform him of what he must do.
“Are ye well, little love?”
“Please, you need gather your crew and find him. Oil upon water. Oil upon water.” She
pulled her hair to give herself something else to concentrate on. Even with her mother’s spell in
place to hold the visions at bay, times there were when one would break through. Stupid visions.
“In need he is. Far East North West.”
“Should we not tell Rum?”
“No! Soon they meet, but ‘tis not the time proper. Oil upon water. Three Stones. A Drop. A
Crash. A Py. A Boots. A Drum. A man in need of a name. Oil…”
Mack placed two fingers to Zeti’s forehead and put her to sleep, knowing it to be the only
thing he could do. He had seen another overtaken by a vision once before and it was never a
good thing to allow it such control, usually offering more harm than good to the one with the
vision. He caught the child, scooping her up into his arms, and carried her back to the manor
hoping his stepmother would know how to contact the High Keeper.
* * *
Mack looked up from the notes he had made of Zeti’s vision to check upon the progress his
crew made in readying his Traveler; he wished to be upon the horizon before the noon hour.
Pleased to see that soon they would be ready to sail, he boarded his boat and entered his cabin
where he pulled out a map of the Far Eastern seas.
He had been feeling most restless this week past and had at first wondered if it had been left
over from Rum’s battle with his cousins, but usually such feelings dissipated within a day or two,
not last over a week. Rum and Gin had been like sons to him, had treated them as such, and
times there were he just knew when his children needed him.
Having heard well of Zeti’s abilities, that she had sent her father to warn Golden Boots of
impending danger last autumn, he decided not to question why she came to him. With the child
in the care of his stepmother and soon to be returned to the High Keeper, he had done as Zeti
bade and gathered his crew.
He would find Gin and keep him safe until Rum was at his brother’s side once more.
“Capt’n, ten minutes ‘til we pull up anchor.” The first mate stood in the open doorway, his
hands resting upon his hips. It was rare form to see the captain acting so. Unless… “Is aught
wrong with one of yer lads?”
“Aye, Master Chink. ‘Tis Gin, he finds himself in trouble.” Mack never looked up, but
continued to study the map. Zeti had said Far East North West. He tapped the map and nodded.
“When ready, we make way to the northwestern area of the Far Eastern Seas.”
“As ye wish, Capt’n.” Chink started to turn about, but stopped and looked once more at
Mack. “If Gin is in trouble, where is Golden Boots? Should he not be with him?”
“Nae. Learned I have that Gin now has his own boat and is soon to be attacked.”
Chink scratched his head at Mack having such information, but then decided not to think of
it. Was the captain’s mother not a Keeper? Usually sons born of Keepers had a touch of the
Sight. “Knew I did the lad and his brother had promise.”
“Aye, indeed.” Mack’s brow furrowed as he once more studied the list of random words that
Zeti had spouted, holding no notion as to what she may have meant—A drop? A crash? Three
stones? A drum? A pie? Unless a pie was actually Py and she meant Gin? And what about: Oil
upon water? He could only hope that the meaning became clear by the time he caught up with
Gin. “Master Chink, make certain all are ready for a fight.”
“Always are the lads ready for a fight, sir. ‘Tis the way of it.”
Mack briefly smiled. “Aye, so ‘tis.”
The Guardian appeared inside the holding cell, her face twisting with disgust at the
conditions, the skitterings of fleeing vermin. Lifting her skirt, fearful of the hem touching
something foul, she stepped towards the one who kept disappointing her. She kicked the cot he
lay upon and waited with little patience for him to awaken.
“Am I forced to drop my skirt upon the foul floor, you will be most regretful.” She kicked
the cot again, the rancid smell of the cell adding to her temper.
Doshan blinked open swollen eyes and tried to focus on the angry female. Realizing whose
presence he was in, he sat up…slowly—he had been calling out for her since first he arrived with
no success. “Do you have me released then?”
“From what?”
“This fucking stink hole!” He straightened his now filthy coat and ran his fingers through
greasy hair, thoughts of making himself more presentable. “Nigh a week have I been here, the
fucking Guards misplacing over and over the papers needed to release me and none have come to
offer bail—I will kill them for that. Never should I have been here at all except for that bastard
Kynon…that filthy fucking pirate. I know not what he did to make that Guard detain me, but
soon my hands will be about his neck wringing his life…”
“Watch your words, worm!” Zaryna’s light green eyes flashed with power. “You will leave
Kynon alone. ‘Tis his brother you are meant to kill.”
“The bastard humiliated me.”
“Do you not kill the tyr Vens, ‘tis your life I will take.”
“I await word from those I sent…”
“They have failed! They have failed and the tyr Vens grows stronger!”
“Then mayhap you should be the one to kill him.”
“Do you think I have not tried, even when I am forbidden to do so? I cannot go before him
again, not without the Azorit King taking my powers. ‘Tis why I could not answer you sooner, I
was regaining my strength.” And her pride, but this one need not know that. He need not know
that the tyr Vens himself had thwarted one of her darkest spells. Such humiliation!
“There is one stronger than you?”
Magik flew about the room, slamming the ingrate back against the wall then across the cell.
“You dare speak to me so?”
Doshan sat up, his temper causing him to speak words that he normally would have kept
silent, “If you are not as strong as you say, that another may take your power, then why should I
fear you?”
Zaryna moved in a blink and lifted Doshan by his neck from where he was upon the floor.
“The Azorit King… There is a reason his father and followers were decimated by the harshest
means with no mercy after my mother took the throne.”
“And yet you have given me no reason to fear you, oh-beautiful-queen.”
“I am stronger than you, mortal worm, even upon my darkest day. That you dare speak to
me with such disrespect after I allowed you use of my body, to spill your seed within me, I
should kill you now and find another to do as I desire.”
“I will do as you ask, but I need be released from this place first.” Once home, he would
bathe and have a proper meal. After that, he thought he would pay a visit to his favorite Den and
fuck one or two of the pretty girls. Once his body and desires were replete and satiated he would
see about running down Ellis and Kynon. He cared not what Zaryna said—Kynon would die
along with Ellis.
Island of Gylway, Far Eastern Seas, NW
Three days later…
Gin wondered if Torin was losing weight as he watched his lover parry Jasper’s attack,
sword edges clashing. He sat on the steps leading to the quarterdeck observing the fencing lesson
—Lemon was off to the side waiting her turn with Jasper. That they were docked with no place
to go, there was nothing to keep him from indulging his want. Streaker had his guitar out, his
music accompanying the movements of the mock sword fighting, and Master Drum, with foot
tapping to the music, was polishing various bits to a high shine. Gator, Jag and Rune were off
learning the lay of the island while waiting for The Mistress Grey to make port, working upon a
plan.
The first day after docking, Gin had insisted they change the name of the boat from Tropic
Swirl back to Treasure Hunter, liking that name much better. He also had Jasper work upon a
spell to change what was emblazoned upon the sail. It now carried an open chest with treasure
spilling out—although he was uncertain of such a boast and mayhap would change it at another
point.
“Aye, ‘tis the way of it, lad,” Jasper laughed, pleased, as she was forced to retreat from
Torin’s advance.
Torin, it turned out, was a natural with a sword, as if he had been handling the weapon his
entire life, confidence pouring off him. Torin had started to swagger. It made Gin want to get the
man alone and naked in a locked room for a few hours. But then again, ‘twas not an usual feeling
for him.
At first, Torin had been nervous about the prospect of having such lessons when the subject
was first broached that evening after Nova Blast had sailed off.
“I am not that sort of man, pirate.” Torin looked up from his meal. They were in the galley
for dinner.
“I would have ye protected. Today offered a mighty scare. Nova was not cur, but what if he
had been? Aye, most of our crew is experienced with a sword, but we are few. Overwhelmed we
could have been, and ‘tis more than possible that I would not have been there to keep ye safe. I
would not lose ye.”
“Gin,” Torin worried his lower lip a moment, “are you certain ‘tis necessary? I am not a fit
man, nor a quick one. I…”
Jasper laughed as she sat at the table, having been eavesdropping. “Why the worry, lad? A
fine swordsman ye will make. Why would ye think otherwise?”
“Never have I handled one before. Such a thing, it made my mother nervous. We eth
Welexes…”
“Pesh!” Jasper waved that off, “’Tis a foolish notion. Besides, the blood of my brother ye
carry and a Champion he was all over Dahrè.”
“He was?”
“Aye.” Jasper’s eyes went unfocused for a moment remembering her brother, but then
shook her head, pushing the past away. “Also will I be teaching Lemon and she is most excited
by the prospect. Remember, ‘tis an adventure ye both are on.”
“Very well.”
Gin whooped, his hands flinging into the air, seeing Torin nearly dislodge Jasper’s sword
from her hand. His heart sped up when Torin offered him a cocky grin. Oh aye, the man made
him hot.
Well, if Torin did lose weight from the exertion, he would just have to make certain that his
lover ate more.
“Lesson is not over, nephew. Keep yer attention upon me. Nae, better yet…” Jasper
motioned to Lemon. “Keep yer attention upon Lemon, ‘tis she who will now be yer opponent.”
Jasper sat next to Gin on the steps, nudged him companionably. “Much does he remind me
of his father with that sword, his ease with it. Always did I hate how simple ‘twas for Slate.”
“Do ye say ‘twas difficult for ye and a liar I will call ye.”
“’Twas easier for me than for most others, but for Slate… A cocky bastard he was when
each time he knocked the sword from my hand. Though a day did come when his arrogance
played in my favor and he left himself most open. Not only did I unsword him, I had him go
down upon a knee in defeat.”
“Should not older siblings defeat their younger siblings?”
“Mayhap, but ‘tis the younger sibling’s desire to defeat the older, wishing for said sibling’s
respect. Lemon, watch yer stance, ye leave yerself open. Grow not so arrogant, Torin, that way
leads to trouble.”
Gin thought about that for a moment. Was Rum trying to earn his respect with all the extra
studying he did with sword and fists? Each time Rum defeated him while wrestling? “Never did I
hear such a thing.”
“Of course not, the older sibling ye are.”
“Only by three minutes.”
“And according to Rune, ye make certain yer brother knows it well. Rune mentioned that
Rum had wished to hold blade to the Minister Prime of Terlyra and force all he knew about yer
parents’ last voyage.”
“’Twas a foolish idea,” he grumbled.
Jasper flicked Gin’s ear. “Nae, lad, ‘twas a fine idea, ‘tis what my father did after learning of
Whiskey’s death. A fool my father was not.”
“And there was naught to learn, was there?” He rubbed his ear.
“Debloos were placed within his bank, though he claimed to not know by whom, to have yer
parents deliver the chocolate themselves.”
Gin jumped up from his seat on the stairs, hands fisted, face red, temper exploding.
“Minister Prime! Fucking Minister Prime and…”
“A bribe he gladly took. ‘Tis not an unusual occurrence for someone such as he.”
“Pirate, is all well?” Torin had stopped fencing, was in fact approaching Gin, worried over
the sudden burst of anger.
Gin took several deep breaths before turning towards Torin, smiling, wishing to ease his
mind. “Aye, love, aye. Cease not yer practice, I have enjoyed watching ye.”
Torin crossed his arms, waited, and so Gin closed the distance between them. He brushed a
bead of sweat from Torin’s brow with the pad of his thumb. He looked forward to when Torin
bathed afterwards; he never seemed to mind that he watched.
“All is well, and ‘tis the truth I enjoy watching ye practice. Yer progress is most thrilling.”
“I dislike being lied to, but I will allow this to pass.” He turned away and returned to fencing
with Lemon.
“I will… This eve, I will explain.” Gin offered another smile hoping Torin would return it.
“A promise.”
“Gin, sit. Talented he may be, but still is he in need of much practice,” Jasper admonished.
“Aye, the proper way that is, Lemon. Torin, concentrate; worry not of Gin. If ye allow yer mind
to lose focus within a fight, the odds are raised for injury.”
* * *
Gator stared at the large boat tied near the end of the pier, the nude carving of a buxom maid
upon the prow, certain his eyes had to be deceiving him. Surely the bastard had sailed to a
different section of the world. Had that not been the plan after landing upon Thesop, to sail to the
Southeastern seas? To visit with Granny Crimson?
He started frantically looking about him, searching for the flame hair of his father, thoughts
of… Guilt assailed him as he discovered that his hands had curled into tight fists.
“Is all well, lad?” Rune placed his hand on Gator’s shoulder, tried to see what he looked for.
“’Tis The Oil Rag.” He motioned toward the boat. “What do I do?”
“What goes on?” Jag crossed his arms over his chest. He liked Gator, he was even coming to
like Rune, but that they were pirates still did not sit well with him. That he wanted vengeance
against those who wronged him on The Mistress Grey…
“The boat, belongs it does to Rigger Boots, my father. ‘Twas he who abandoned me upon
Thesop. Were it not for Gin…” His teeth snapped together, clenched, the feel of betrayal souring
his stomach. What sort of pirate was he that he felt guilty for wanting to thrash the one who
betrayed him?
“Come along, lads. A bit parched I feel and wish for a mug of ale.”
“So we solve my problem over drink?”
Rune lightly tapped the back of Gator’s head. “’Tis the pirate way!”
Occupying one of the small tables, Rune motioned over one of the serving wenches and
ordered ale and food for all three of them—they had been about since early morning and it was
now noon. Gator ignored all that went on, too busy staring out the dusty window towards where
his father’s boat was docked, unable to cease the conflicting thoughts and emotions tumbling
about within him.
“Nae need is there for such confusion, lad.” Rune leaned back and followed Gator’s gaze.
“Aye, ‘tis upsetting what he did, and ‘tis not something I would ever do.”
“I am then to wait and see what he says?”
“Mayhap. An age ye are that ye should know yer father, what he might say.”
“I know not what he might say! How would I know what he would say, when… Always was
it ye and Grandpapa there, both teaching me what needed learning. Not Papa, and sure not Sliq.”
The door to the pub opened with a crash and, with loud stomping footfalls, in stepped a large
man with wild flame hair and scruffy beard. He wore a patch over his left eye, a thick vertical
scar sticking out two inches above and three inches below the patch.
“Well, well, well.” Rigger Boots approached the table upon seeing his son. “It seems ye may
show a bit of the Boots resourcefulness within ye after all, lad.” He looked at his son’s
companions and his expressions changed, the arrogant smile dropping as he pursed his lips. “Or
mayhap ‘tis only luck ye hold. Admit I must, I saw not The Argyn Ot,” he spat the name,
resentment filling him, “or that pretender, Goldie.” He hated that his father had given the boat to
another, to someone not even born pirate, uncaring if that individual was his own half-brother.
“Is it possible, Master Stone, that finally ye gained yer own boat?”
Gator stood, knocking over his chair. “We sail with Capt’n Gin.”
“Oh ho!” Rig laughed. “Young Gin, ye say? Did Papa finally offer him a boat?”
“Gator, sit,” Rune spoke low, motioning to the chair, but his eyes never left Rig. “Nae, the
lad took himself a boat while Capt’n Boots was docked in Lynda, a fine vessel designed and built
by Capt’n Nova Blast.”
“Is that so? Does his runty brother sail with him too?”
“Rum remained upon Ganos to celebrate his marriage to Capt’n Suede.” Rune took pleasure
in shocking Rig knowing how he felt about the brothers, about Red’s foundlings. “’Twas a fine
night with Capt’n Boots doing the marrying with Capt’n Red standing witness.”
“’Tis my uncle’s mistake to bear.” Rig shoved at Gator’s shoulder. “Time to leave, lad.”
“N-nae, I sail with Capt’n Gin.”
“Nae lad of mine will finish his fostering with an untried mutt.”
“’Tis not fostering I do, but am part of his crew. And mayhap he is untried, but he sails
with…”
“Rune?” His upper lip lifted in disgust. “A man incapable of gaining his own boat?”
Again Gator knocked over his chair. “Gin is his nephew and he looks out for him, unlike ye
would ever do for me.”
Rig released a sharp bark of laughter. “The puppy growls. Mind yerself, lad, before I put ye
upon yer back. Now come along.”
“Nae!”
“Excuse me?”
“Never s-say ye grow deaf, old man.” Gator’s heart was pounding rapidly within his breast;
unable to believe he had spoken such words to his father. Rigger was one who would knock him
down, and knock him down hard, but he refused to retreat. “I sail with Capt’n Gin and ‘tis with
him I will stay.”
“Ye push me close to temper, lad. Gin is nae proper capt’n. I care not what my father or
brothers think of him. Now we leave.”
“Never will I sail with ye again, not after ye abandoned me. ‘Tis not how a papa should treat
his son.”
“I see that ye learned not yer lesson. I tried to teach ye self-reliance, to be resourceful as yer
namesake did for me, but still ye get by upon luck.” Rig reached out to grab Gator, to drag him
back to the boat, but Gator jumped out of the way, tumbling to the ground when he tripped over
his fallen chair. Rig once more laughed and again reached for him. “Or mayhap yer luck runs
out.”
He scrambled back and rolled to his feet, keeping his distance from his father. “Uncle Gator
never would have abandoned…”
“That I was left upon foreign shores by that very man, I know what he would do better than
ye. Besides, late ye were and did I not say I would sail without ye?”
“Only was I ten minutes late and upon the horizon ye were! Longer than ten minutes does it
take to nigh disappear at water’s edge. Ye left sooner than agreed upon!”
“Jag, ye and Gator return to the boat.” Rune stood from his chair. His son’s eyes were wide
and his face was pale, obviously afraid of Rig.
Gator trembled. “I will not run from a fight. ‘Tis not the Boots way.”
“Go on, I will speak with Rig and settle the matter.”
“But…”
“’Tis not running, lad. Times there are when ‘tis best to allow the more experienced to
handle such matters when one of experience is about. The three of us,” he made certain to gain
eye contact with his son so he understood he also meant him, “we will speak of the matter this
eve.”
Jag, glad to be excused, grabbed Gator’s arm and pulled him from the pub, practically
running to the boat. His father claimed to be pirate, his gran claimed to be pirate, but that man,
that huge man… That was a pirate.
He kept up the rapid pace until he was on deck and only then did he release Gator, did he
dare look over his shoulder and feel a sense of relief. Though the relief did not last long as he felt
everyone staring at him and he realized that fear had driven him. He had been afraid. And his
father had known.
Embarrassment burned hot.
“Is all well, lad?” Jasper stood and walked over to her grandson, placed her hand upon his
cheek.
“My father is upon the island.” Gator’s hands fisted at his side, but they quickly uncurled as
he rubbed his palms into his eyes, afraid that emotion was overwhelming him. “Claimed he did
that he thought to teach me resourcefulness and self-reliance, that Uncle Gator had done the
same to him. He…he could have said such when we made port, but still I know not how leaving
me would teach me aught. Fuck! I hate him.”
Gin walked over and swung his arm around Gator’s shoulders, offering companionship. “Do
ye wish to rejoin yer father?”
“Nae! I s-sail with ye now. Always was I being kicked around like an unwanted hound while
upon his boat. There is nae such feeling as that since I have been sailing with ye.”
“Never would I treat any of my crew in such a vile manner, of this I promise.” Gin looked at
his cousin. “Ye look as if a spirit chased ye, lad.”
“Never have I seen a man such as he. A giant he is and…” Jag looked away, even more
embarrassed that he had given voice to his fear.
“Rig is not so big as that. If ever ye had met Funt ye would think differently. Hmm, after we
reach Ganos, we will most definitely make sail to Argos for a visit. Certain I am that much has
changed since Davo’s men were driven from her shores. And methinks ye lads could use the
experience.”
“Where is Rune?” Lemon had gone to the railing to see if he followed, but still there was no
sight of him. “Where is yer father?”
“He stayed behind. Ma, wait!” Jag grabbed his mother’s hand. “Do not go.”
“Jag…”
“Correct he is,” Gin added. “Ye need to stay here. I will go, though doubt I do that Rune
needs my help. ‘Twould not be the first time he has gone against Rig, and if I recall correctly, the
last time he bested him well.”
* * *
Rune kept Rig from grabbing Gator; standing between the large pirate and the lads’ escape.
His hand was upon the hilt of his sword, his gaze steady as he stared Rig down, daring him to
follow.
“Ye over step yerself again.” Rig also put his hand on his sword. “I am Gator’s capt’n…”
“Nae, ‘tis Gin who is his capt’n, and of an age Gator is to choose such a thing. As for the
other?” He shrugged a single shoulder. “Yer title of capt’n means naught to me, especially when
I see ye treating that lad so.”
“Worthless he is and needs…” Rig stumbled back when Rune rushed him, but he was
caught, his arm pulled high behind his back and Rune’s dagger against his throat. “Oi! What are
ye about?”
“A fine lad Gator is, and know this ye would if ye spent a moment with yer head not hiding
within yer ass. A father he needs and never have ye been such, so gladly will I take the roll
because ye deserve not a son such as he. ‘Tis the truth that ye deserve nae son.”
“Think ye can turn that scared puppy into a proper pirate?” Rig spoke through his teeth as he
jerked his arm, trying to free it.
“Aye.” He shoved Rig away and braced himself for the likely attack. Rig never knew when
to walk away. “Already have I. He stood up to ye, did he not? Or do ye await the day he turns on
ye like a rabid hound, much the way Sliq did?”
Rig charged Rune, his cutlass raised and poised to descend, uncaring that there were several
tavern patrons already gathering closer, anticipating the fight, placing wagers. Rune caught Rig’s
sword with his dagger and twisted it out of his hand, sending it flying, but Rig was quick to pull
his own dagger and steel met once more.
“Ill-bred bastard.”
“Yer mother’s House is showing, Capt’n Rig. And ‘tis rare to enjoy the company of such a
conceit.”
Rig sneered and put his full weight behind his struggle, refusing to allow Rune to best him
again. “’Tis those like ye and that bastard son of my father who ruin the name and reputation of
being pirate. Fucking outsiders…”
“My father may not be pirate, but he does descend. His grandmother was granddaughter to
Sugar Cross and Mage Fyar. And the House of Stone has always been pirate.”
“Aye, cur pirates.” He jabbed Rune in the jaw with his free hand, knocking his head back,
forcing him away, uncaring if he played dirty. He quickly went after Rune, victory surging
through him. “When I find yer mother…”
Rune barely kept from going down, somehow managing to keep his feet, bracing them wide
as he would during a storm. With Rig bearing down on him, he had no time to wipe at the blood
dripping from a split in his chin, to shake the stars from his vision. He once more caught the
other man’s dagger with his own, this time keeping in the back of his mind Rig’s tactics.
“Always with that threat and yet ye have done naught with it.”
“Yer mother hides…”
“Never has she hidden, only stayed put. If ye wish to challenge her all ye need do is ask
permission to board Gin’s Treasure Hunter.” Rune lifted his boot and shoved it into Rig’s gut
sending him tumbling backwards and right into Gin.
Catching the large pirate, Gin looked at his uncle, both brows raised. “Enjoying yerself are
ye, old man?”
“Ye call me old, lad, when that one has fifteen years upon me?”
“A valid point.” Gin shoved Rig away and crossed his arms. He studied Rig, his head tilted
to the side. “I suppose for a lad like yer own, Master Stone, Capt’n Rig is large. In need we are
of exposing Jag more to the pirate way.”
Rig roared hearing such talk and charged Gin, but was once more caught from behind by
Rune, dagger pressed tight against his neck.
“Think ye I will allow my nephew to come to harm?” It was a vicious growl.
“Imposters the lot of ye! Nae place do ye bastards have upon the sea; ye taint it as ye will
taint Gator. Have my blood exposed to such riffraff I will not.”
“Does he go on about that again?” Gin looked on with disgust.
“Aye, lad. A repeating parrot he is. He disregards the fact that long have yer father’s and
mother’s Houses been upon the sea. Mayhap not always as pirates, but aye, men and women of
the sea. ‘Tis a shame with how fine a man yer father is, Capt’n Rig, that ye are such a bastard.
Now leave, and trouble us nae more. Or does my dagger need slip to prove my words?” Rune
shoved Rig away.
“Watch yer back, mongrel. I care not how my father feels about either of ye, gladly will I
sink ye to the bottom of the sea upon first chance.”
Gin watched the other pirate leave the pub, the door crashing behind him. “Think ye he
means that threat?”
“I think he means it, but I know not if he has the fortitude to actually carry it out.” Rune
looked about and realized the foolishness of his actions with Rig. Easily could the barkeep have
summoned Guards to settle the issue. True, pirates as pirates were not within the jurisdiction of
Watchers and Guards, but that did not mean that the Guards were not free to detain them for at
time for such reckless behavior. Rune walked over to the bar. “Excuse me, barkeep. A need I feel
to offer apologies.”
The barkeep looked up from polishing the mug in her hands and smiled. “Grateful I am for
such pleasantries. And even more grateful that my tables and chairs were not rendered splinters.”
“I also offer thanks for not summoning the Guards.”
The barkeep waved that off. “Papa would return from The Firebreath to thrash me did ever I
willingly summon the Guards in here. Unless they enter to buy a tankard of ale, I have nae use
for them.”
“Aye, ‘tis the truth.” Rune placed several debloo on the bar for the drinks he and the lads
partook of, the food they had ordered, but not consumed, and then with a final nod to the
barkeep, he and Gin returned to the boat.
* * *
Lemon glared up at Rune, her hands moving his face this way and that, searching out further
injury. “Gin, said ye did that Rune would best that bastard, and yet here is Rune, blood dripping
from his chin.”
“Ah now, limon drop. Who is to say that I bested him not?”
Lemon snorted and dragged Rune below deck. She shoved him upon their bed and was
about to go find a cloth to clean the gash on his chin when Rune grabbed her and pulled her onto
his lap so that she straddled his thighs.
“What are ye about, ye rotten pirate?”
Rune laughed and slid his hands over her bottom. “What think ye I am about? Methinks ‘tis
a shame ye wear not a skirt.”
“I…in need I am of tending yer wound.”
“It can wait, wife. My blood, it pumps so and rather would I expend it in a more rigorous
fashion than have ye tend a minor wound.” He brought her hips down so her bush was flush with
his prick. “What say ye?”
“Um…Papa?” Jag stumbled to a halt seeing his parents about to conduct themselves
intimately. “Shit! My apologies.” He turned around and quickly left, his face burning red with
embarrassment. How did a man forget seeing his father’s hands upon his mother’s ass, that look
of lust within his father’s eyes? ‘Twas not something a son should see, his parents on the verge
of having sex. Granted, both were fully clothed, but it was easy enough to see their intentions.
He scrubbed at his eyes, but the scene was burned within his mind.
Rune took a deep breath and lifted Lemon off his lap. “Think not that my desire leaves me,
but in need I am of speaking with him. A fright he had and I need…”
“Nae need is there to explain; I saw his face when he returned. Go, speak with him.” She
smiled. “He called ye papa.”
“Aye.” Rune returned the smile and quickly kissed her. “Aye.” He left the cabin and jogged
after his son, catching up with him before he climbed the ladder topside. “Jag, son.”
“Why do you follow? Were you not…?” Jag shook his head, unable to even speak of such
things.
“Aye, indeed, I was about to seduce yer mother.”
“Oi! No need is there to say such. ‘Twas easy enough to see though I wish that I had not.”
“My son is a prude then?” Rune heaved a sigh. “Truly am I in need of gaining ye experience
as a seafarer.”
“I am fine as I am. Not all who go to sea wish to be pirates.”
“Aye, ‘tis so, but all who go to sea are seafarers. A certain code to life is there when one
chooses the way of the sea.”
“Such as fighting and…”
Rune laughed. He was unable to help himself. “Joy there is in fighting, aye. And in lifting
timetells and daggers from those unsuspecting. Even finer joy is there in a fine tumble with a
pretty bit.”
“You turn my mother into a criminal.”
“Did she not make mention how first we met, that already was she an accomplished thief?”
Rune waved that off. “A difference there is ‘twixt pirating and being criminal, or worse, bandit.”
“You all steal, no difference do I see.” Jag turned away, reached for a rung upon the ladder.
“Ye sought me out, lad, and doubt I do ‘twas to call me criminal. Worried ye are about
Capt’n Rig?”
“Why did you challenge him? Gator is not your son. Or…”
Rune slung his arm about Jag’s shoulders and squeezed, then walked with him to the galley,
sat with him after grabbing a mug of something sweet to drink. “Nae, Gator is not my son, not by
blood, but always have I done what I could to show him the proper way for a man to behave,
shown him what he needed to know to stand up to the bullying of his older brother, and how to
lift a timetell or dagger without being caught. Had I known of ye, gladly would I have done these
things for ye, never doubt that. As for why I challenged Capt’n Rig, ‘tis something a man does,
he stands up to those who bully.”
“He…he was huge.”
“Nae, lad. Lifts does he wear in his boots.”
“Nae! He was a very large man. He is larger than you and Capt’n Gin. He…he wore a patch
upon his eye and…”
“Jag, ‘tis not the large pirates ye need worry about, for most only use their size to get by in
this world. ‘Tis the smaller pirates ye need keep eye upon. The most vicious pirate ever did I
meet was nae higher than my chest and mayhap half my weight. He was wiry and quick in speed
and temper; never did he suffer another thinking him small.”
“I am not pirate.”
“And ye need not be—I do hold legitimate interests in business, most of us pirates do—but
in need ye are of learning the rules we live by. Gladly will I teach them to ye, to teach ye all ye
need know. Learning from yer Gran as well, ‘tis a rare gift.”
“Suggested she did that I read Jumping Jax.” Jag’s brow furrowed seeing the humor in his
father’s eyes. “Why do you laugh? Is there aught wrong with these books?”
“Nae, fine books they are. I heard many of the tales growing up. Jumping Jax, though ‘tis
not known by many, is written by yer Gran. If ye wish not to learn from yer Gran, there are other
fine sailors who could teach ye. Gator’s grandfather is one—Capt’n Red, one of the finest of men
he is—taught he did Gin and his brother, Rum. Capt’n Mack Boots, Gator’s uncle, another fine
sailor—he too taught Gin and Rum.”
“But…related they are to…to Gator’s father.”
“An anomaly is Rig within the House of Boots. Even Capt’n Red, Rig’s father, knows not
what to make of him. ‘Tis as if Rig feels entitled because he descends from pirate upon both
sides. It matters little his feelings regarding those of us who carry less extensive bloodlines, but if
ye worry over Rig’s relation to Red or Mack, I know of other capt’ns who would teach ye well.
Think upon it, son. Now, I return to yer mother.” He laughed again when Jag placed his hands
over his ears.
Torin pulled Gin aside and offered him a look over. “I see no injuries, pirate. Are you well?”
“Aye, love. Already was the fight over by the time I entered the pub. Would ye tend my
wounds had I received any?”
He leaned in and kissed Gin on the side of the mouth. “’Tis glad I am that you are uninjured.
And yes, I would tend you if needed, though you might not like my tending as I would feel the
need to torment you for coming back to me injured and causing me worry.”
Gin stepped up close to Torin so their bodies touched and whispered, “Would ye spank me
upon the buttocks?”
“I might.” He was a bit shocked that Gin had the courage to speak so, pleased, but shocked.
Yes, he had whispered it, but there were others still about. “You do have a fine ass, pirate, and I
enjoy touching it any way I can.”
Confidence waning, Gin looked about, worrying his lower lip between his teeth for a
moment. “What think ye of going ashore? We have not done so together and I would mind not
seeing the island with ye.”
“I would like that.”
He took Torin’s hand and started pulling him toward the gangplank, but was waylaid by
Gator. “What is it, lad?”
“Keep an eye for my father. His boat has not left port and…and he was most furious that I
did not leave with him.”
“Aye, indeed I will. With his threat against my boat, I will most definitely be keeping both
eyes upon him.”
“He…he threatened the boat?”
“Aye, to sink her did he come across her. I know not if he has the courage to do so, but I
plan to take the threat most seriously.”
Gator opened and closed his mouth several times before he could find any words to speak.
Finally he exploded with furious vehemence, punching the air several times, “When we return to
Ganos, I am speaking with Grandpapa! And Uncle Mack! ‘Tis unacceptable his behavior. ‘Tis
not how a Boots acts towards…towards allies!”
“Consider me ally Rig does not, especially with yer refusal to sail with him in favor of me.
Know ye how he feels about those without, what he considers, proper pedigree.”
“Nae! ‘Tis not proper behavior! Grandpapa will hear of this. And does my father actually
attack…”
“All is well, lad.” Jasper placed a comforting hand upon Gator’s shoulder. Rune was right;
the lad needed guidance.
“Nae, all is not well. I am the son of a cur! ‘Tis how he acts—as a cur. Nae excuse is it that
he lost his eye. Plenty of others have lost eyes or limbs and act not as he does. How can I…” His
temper fled and he looked down dejected. “How can I be his son?”
“Jasper is correct: All is well.” Gin nudged the younger pirate. “We will deal with Rig if or
when the time comes. Until such time, we will be cautious, but allow him not to direct our path.
Vengeance there is for us to partake in, ‘tis that we must concentrate on. Aye?”
Gator nodded. “Aye, Capt’n.”
“Good lad. Now, I go with Torin for a stroll. We will return within the next two hours. Keep
an eye for The Mistress Grey.”
* * *
“Gin…” Torin slowed his pace when they walked past a gold shoppe about an hour later
with thoughts of perhaps seeking out marriage cuffs. That Gin was captain… Except Gin was
paying him no mind, instead was staring at some point on the wharf. “What is it?”
“’Tis The Mistress Grey docking before us.” Eyes narrowed, Gin continued watching the
behemoth boat being tied to the dock. Holding tight Torin’s hand he pulled him along towards
their target wishing a closer look. He paused under the awning of a sweet shoppe and arranged
Torin so he stood before him as if they were conversing, allowing him to spy without notice.
“I would mind not seeing what you see, pirate.” But Gin did not move.
“They finish tying her and soon many will disembark.”
“Should we not inform the rest of the crew that she is here?”
“Once I have seen what I wish to see.”
Torin sighed and took to watching what played out in the reflecting window front of the
sweet shoppe. “She is a rather large boat.”
“Aye. A merchant she is and according to Jag, she carries quite the bounty. There are the
first mate and the capt’n. Exactly are they as Jag described.”
“I see their reflection in the window. ‘Tis easy enough to see why she understood not Jag
turning away her advance.”
Gin glowered at Torin. “’Tis not something I would know about.”
“Surely you can see she is attractive even with your liking of men.”
“I would think her too skinny did I think of her at all.”
Torin offered a wide grin. “Do you say you are jealous because I stated her attractive?”
“All I say is that I do not see it and can understand why Jag turned her away.”
“You are jealous, and I mind it not. No, I think I enjoy it.” He stepped up to Gin, pressed
against him, knowing how much the pirate liked it. He whispered against the side of Gin’s
mouth, “But there is no need for such feelings; ‘tis you I want.”
“Jealous I am not. She is much too skinny, even for yer taste. Seen I have the portrait of yer
wife and know she was quite rounded.”
“Indeed, my Lara held fine curves and well she knew how to use them. She was soft where
you are hard and I am enjoying the differences betwixt your bodies. ‘Tis erotic. Now, a plan do
you have to deal with these bastards?”
“In need we are of separating crew from capt’n and first mate.”
“And then? Do you attempt to take the boat’s bounty?”
“If we can separate crew from boat as well, aye, her cargo will be ours.” He smiled broadly,
teeth flashing. “’Tis the pirate way, love.”
“Any thoughts on how you would go about this?”
“Nae, ‘tis why I spy now.” Gin’s eyes suddenly went wide, his face incredulous. “The fool!
In need he is of a thrashing to take such a risk. Excuse me, love. In need I am of saving my
cousin from certain doom.” Gin took off running and tackled Jag, rolling with him behind some
large crates stacked on the dock.
“Oi!” Jag struggled, tried striking his attacker.
“Cease, lad!” Gin subdued the younger man, Jag proving an easy opponent compared to
wrestling with Rum. He wondered if he should offer Rum thanks for always presenting him with
a challenge to overcome, for more oft than not his twin defeated him.
“What are you about, Gin?” Jag shoved at his cousin, though he did stop trying to hit him.
“Get off!”
Gin stood and offered a hand to Jag, but was forced to grab him and shove him against the
crate when Jag attempted to continue towards The Mistress Grey. “What sort of fool are ye?”
“Let go!”
“Not if ye think to get yerself killed.”
“I go to get vengeance.” Jag continued to struggle.
“Aye, ye go to get yerself killed. Never would yer father forgive me did I allow such a thing.
Nor could I ever forgive myself.” He shoved Jag harder against the crate wishing to gain his
attention. “Fuck, lad. Part of a crew ye are now and ‘tis as a crew we will gain ye the vengeance
ye seek without ye getting yerself killed.”
“I need not…”
“Aye, ye do. Ye need our help, the help of pirates. Do ye take the blinders from yer eyes ye
would see that those who live the life are not the monsters ye think we are. Aye, we have our
curs, but those who supposedly live a life of virtue are not always so virtuous either. Did not the
first mate accuse ye falsely of raping her? Did not the capt’n of that vessel think to hang ye
without benefit of a fair trial? And according to Master Drum, ‘tis that same capt’n who falsely
accuses Master Drum’s brother of selling fake dynma stones, all in the attempt to gain something
for free. Now tell me, cousin, who here are the monsters?”
“Ye understand not…”
“I understand well the desire for vengeance. Seven my twin and I were when our parents
were murdered, sent to the bottom of the sea. We have spent most of our lives looking for the
curs that dared leave us orphans.”
“And so you became pirates…”
“Nae. When Rum and I were fifteen and once more without home, traveled we did for two
months in the midst of winter seeking food and shelter, and not one upstanding citizen dared to
offer it, not even our own grandfather. We dug through refuse bins for discarded food, huddled
together under the tiniest of ledges for shelter. We had holes in our boots and nae coats to keep
us warm. ‘Twas not until Capt’n Red found us were we given our pride and self-respect back.
Like sons he has treated us, his own children treating us as family.”
“What of Gator’s father? He cares not for you.”
“Aye, ye speak true, but Rig is the only one in that family who has felt thusly. Certain I am
he feels so because he is jealous of the attention Red gives to us. Rig hates Capt’n Boots, his own
younger brother, because Red presented him The Argyn Ot; he felt it should have been his as
Red’s oldest son, as a pirate with only pirate blood in his veins.” Was his own jealousy of Rum
the same?
Stupid Ellis.
Jag closed his eyes. “And what of my father.”
“Yer father is one of the finest men I know, pirate or not. Had he known ye were his, know I
do he would have been there, teaching ye all ye needed to know.”
“He said a man stands up to bullies, and so I go to…”
Gin laughed softly, ruffled Jag’s hair. “Aye, he does. But ye need not do so alone. Family
we are, lad. Family is most important, even if all ye have is a ragtag bunch of pirates.”
“Aye, ‘tis the truth.” Jasper fluttered out of the shadows surprising Torin who had followed
in Gin’s wake. “Never will ye find a more loyal bunch of pirates either.”
“Oh good, ye found him.” Gator leaned over, his hands on his thighs as he caught his breath,
having run the entire way from Treasure Hunter. “My apologies, Capt’n Gin, he slipped from
my view when I sent him to inform Rune that The Mistress Grey docked.”
“All is well. Foolish though he might have been, our Jag showed fine courage. Now, we
ought to return to the boat. Mistress Stone, mind would ye continuing to observe our target? I
will send Master Drum to aid ye.”
“Aye, Capt’n, ‘twill be done.”
“Master Boots, know ye if yer father has set sail? I need not his interference in our quest.”
“Aye, he set sail a half hour after ye and Master eth Welex disembarked.”
“I would aid in watching the boat. I know well the crew’s schedule.” Jag shoved his hands
inside his coat pockets.
“Give me yer word to mind Mistress Stone. And know well if ye go back upon it, ‘twill be a
harsh punishment for I will suffer nae such behavior from one of my crew. As seafarers, our
word, our promises, mean everything.”
“Aye…aye I give my word to mind Mistress Stone.”
“Very well. Return to the boat nae later than two hours. I would have a plan in place before
the sun falls below the horizon.” Gin took Torin’s hand and began the return journey to the boat.
“Truly did you dig through piles of discard?”
Gin kept his eyes straight ahead. “Aye. We searched for work, but none would take a chance
upon us. Not until Red.”
“’Tis no wonder you love him so.” Torin wanted to pull him into his arms, to comfort the
wounded boy still lurking deep inside the pirate, but could see that right then was not the time.
“How did you meet Red? Rum made mention that a fine man had taken you both in, but not
much more than that.”
“We were being chased from the backdoor of an inn where we sought shelter from the cold
rain—we were in Elaquin at the time. The innkeeper held a broom, threatening to strike us with
it, when Capt’n Red appeared and admonished him. The innkeeper cared little for Red’s
suggestion to hire us, thinking we would steal his debloos rather than work. ‘Twas not so, gladly
would Rum and I have worked for food and shelter, even if ‘twas only to sleep in the barn. Red
offered us a place upon his boat, which we gladly accepted, and then took us to a nearby pub,
treating us to hot food and drink. Forever will we be in his debt. ‘Tis why we agreed to sail with
Capt’n Boots when Red gave him the boat.”
“Forever will I be grateful to him as well and I look most forward to meeting him.”
Gin stopped and looked at Torin. He searched his face and released a pent up breath seeing
that Torin meant his words. He stepped up to him and kissed him full on the mouth, uncaring in
that moment if others saw. “Thank ye. I hold nae doubt that Red will be pleased to meet ye as
well.”
* * *
Torin watched Gin as he sat behind the large desk, drumming his fingers. Gin looked as if he
wished to pace, but was forcing himself to sit still. Taking the seat opposite, Torin watched his
lover, waited. Having Read the situation, he knew Gin wished to speak.
“Times there were that I hated him.”
“Who?”
“Rum. He… Always was he weak, needing me to guide him. When I found him, after he
had been chased from the ryn Ferth manor, he was huddling ‘neath a bridge nigh frozen with fear
from others having approached him. Still does he allow few near him.”
“I sensed no weakness in Rum’s letter to me.”
“’Tis a letter, he…”
“The boy I knew was not weak. Mayhap he allowed not others near him, but no blame could
I place at his feet for such; always were your cousins bullying him, attempting to harm him. The
same could be said of Perta; did she not strike at him did he gain her notice?”
“Aye.” He began scratching at the desk with his thumbnail. “Close ye were with him. I was
most jealous.”
“Then why did you not join us? Certain I am that Rum would have welcomed you.”
“I was jealous. And trying to hide from Perta…never had I been successful. Keeping away
from Rum ‘twas an attempt to protect him from her.”
“Did she attempt to touch you after that first time?”
“Most oft she tried to gain knowledge she was certain my mother had imparted to me. After
that, she tried to force me to tell her what I knew of chocolate,” he shook his head, “but as I told
ye previous, all I knew of chocolate came from Rum. I stole his knowledge hoping for what Rum
had with Papa, but never did Perta have such to give. She took to shoving the chocolate into my
mouth when I began refusing to eat it. Chocolate, ‘tis such a horrid food. Do I even smell it and
my stomach threatens to empty. I…” Gin looked at Torin, then back at the desk, his thumb still
scratching. “I am responsible for her death.”
“Did she not die from illness?”
“Only did she become ill because she was bedridden from a broken hip. I… I caused her to
break her hip.” He scratched harder with his thumb. He had never said the words out loud before,
but it seemed not to ease the weight of it.
Torin stood and placed his hand over Gin’s, stopping his destruction of the desk. “How did
you cause her to break her hip?”
“She… Attempted she did to use me in the same fashion she used Doshan that time and
‘twas hard I shoved her from me. Fell she did and was unable to rise. I ran, leaving her upon the
floor to be discovered by one of the other cousins. In the years Rum and I were with Perta ‘twas
rare that I sought my brother out, but that day, ye could not pull me from his side, nor in the days
and weeks that followed. He asked not what was wrong, only seeming pleased that I stayed with
him, and I knew not if I was grateful or resentful.” Gin again looked up at Torin. “I am the
reason she is dead. It might as well have been my hand driving a dagger into her heart.”
“Good, deserved the vile bitch did to suffer. I hope she lingered in pain for the torment she
caused you.”
Gin swallowed, preparing to speak, but no words would come, just tears filling his eyes.
“Guilt you felt for this? Oh, my dear pirate, do release it. Too much in this life wears upon
you, allow not this one thing to do so. Allow her not such control of you. She is gone, within The
Firebreath I am certain suffering the finest of The Firedaimon’s torture.” Torin moved around the
desk. He forced the chair Gin was in to turn so he now faced him. He cupped his lover’s cheeks
and kissed him softly, slowly, just how he knew Gin liked. “Unlike you, who is here with me
about to suffer the finest of pleasure.”
A breath exploded past his lips. “Fuck, ye make me hard.”
“As you do me.” Torin straightened and crossed his arms over his chest, allowing Gin to see
the bulge in his breeches. He smiled, his lips a broad split. “Now strip!”
They all met in the galley, the crew of The Treasure Hunter filled with anticipation, the
energy palpable. Jasper, Master Drum and Jag had returned a half-hour prior with fine smirks
upon their faces—even Jag was feeling the pull of his blood, his gait holding a bit of swagger as
he ascended the gangplank.
Gin nudged Rune who smiled wide seeing the way his son was conducting himself. For the
first time in his life Gin thought ‘twould be a fine thing to have a child. Yes, he had always
figured he would eventually have a child, an heir, how else would he pass on the knowledge his
mother had given him, but looking at Torin… He wanted a child with Torin very much. Mayhap
Torin’s blood would help dampen the ryn Ferth blood the child would receive.
He leaned against a table only to straighten away. His ass was still a little sensitive from
Torin’s hand. He quickly took in several deep breaths to cool the sudden surge of lust. Torin did
indeed know what made him hot and how to stoke those fires well. He could feel Torin’s eyes on
him making his need harder to fight.
“Tell us, Ma, what did ye learn?” Rune asked when Gin failed to do so, but then with the
way his nephew was looking at his treasure, he understood well.
“Methinks our small crew has better a chance at gaining what we desire than were we large.
In need we are of using intelligence not muscle to capture capt’n and first mate.”
“What of the cargo?” Gin finally pulled himself from his musing. “Is it worth the taking?”
“Oi!” Jag started to object, but quickly shut his mouth when all looked at him, their
eyebrows raised high. “Do we need take it?”
“Pirates we are, son, of course we need take it. Did we not, ‘twould bring into question our
credibility as men and women of the sea and nae longer could we hoist our sails with pride.”
Rune then returned to the previous subject, rubbing his hands together. “Is it grand cargo, Ma?”
“’Tis indeed. Sneaking aboard I discovered many crates of silk, yiska and other fine goods.”
“How well guarded is she?”
Jag cleared his throat. He was unable to believe he was about to say what he was about to
say. “There is a box of mayhap a half-dozen bottles of two hundred year Elaquian drambu within
the captain’s quarters.” Once again everyone looked at him with eyebrows raised. “Is aught
wrong? Is that not something you would want?”
Rune coughed and Lemon pounded him upon the back. Jasper wiped her hand down her
face, her eyes wide. Master Drum and the rest laughed. Even Torin was impressed.
“Why do you react so?”
“Two hundred year Elaquian drambu?” Gin could already hear the clink of gold debloos
piling up.
“Aye. I know ‘tis expensive, but…”
“’Tis beyond rare, lad, and nigh priceless. Yeryl and Zasara! Just one bottle would buy a
pirate a fleet of boats. Where did yer capt’n gain such treasure?”
“He… He said ‘twas a gift.”
“One bottle is a gift. Nae sane individual would give a body six bottles.” Gin narrowed his
eyes. “When did ye learn of these bottles in relation to yer imprisonment?”
“Mayhap a week before I was accused and thrown into the hold.”
“Aye, ‘tis as I thought. Ye learned of the capt’n’s ill-gotten treasure. Never could he allow
ye to hold such information and remain free.”
“But… You are pirates, is it not hypocritical to…”
“Pirates we are and claim not to be otherwise.” Gin leaned back against the table once more,
his hands holding his weight. “That capt’n claims to be upstanding, but his actions speak louder.
Six bottles of drambu, doubt I do he came by them from gift, and nae surprise would I feel did I
learn he murdered to gain them.”
“But the first mate, she accused me. Called I was before the capt’n and there she was, tears
within her eyes declaring that I attacked her, forced myself upon her. Never would I…but he
believed me not. I… It mattered little what I said.”
“She probably holds the other six bottles, for twelve there are within a case. Aye, aye, it
makes much sense. That ye learned of the capt’n’s share, who is to say ye would not learn of
hers. Doubt I do the crew would be pleased to know that those two held such treasure, keeping
all the fortune for themselves.”
“Do you say, Captain, that you would share such a case with your crew?”
“Depends upon the situation, but most likely did I come upon such a treasure, most of those
bottles would be sold and so aye, profits shared. One I might keep, mayhap drink it sip by sip.
Do we gain these rare bottles, they will be split amongst us since there are so few of us, and the
rest would be sold.” Though he would either find a way to give Red Boots one of the bottles or
give him his.
Torin spoke for the first time, “Know you the estate?”
Jag scratched the scruff covering his chin. “There was a vine bordering the label and the
silhouette of a grand E-shaped manor. The bottle was dusty and the name was written in an
overly wrought hand—‘twas illegible. The wax upon the seal, an odd shade of green.”
Torin nodded. “’Twould be the ara Baen Estate, Gillethan Village.”
Streaker hissed, his body position having changed as if readying for a fight. He should have
known from the description of the label, probably had known but ignored Jag’s words not
wishing to remember. “I want naught to do with those bottles. I care little how valuable they are,
‘twill only ever be blood gold to me.”
“Aye!” Lemon walked over to Streaker and slid an arm through his, offering her support.
“What is this about?” Rune narrowed his eyes, disliking that his wife was holding onto the
other man in such a manner.
“’Twas Arkis ara Baen who killed my mother. ‘Twas that family who… Because of them
never can I return to Elaquin’s shores.” Streaker rubbed a hand over his face. “That ‘tis the ara
Baen, I would not be surprised if they did gift such bottles, but for payment of nefarious deeds.
Certain I am ‘tis how they had me convicted and nigh executed for a murder I did not commit.”
“Mayhap, Capt’n Gin, after we deal with The Mistress Grey, we might make the ara Baen
regret their actions against our Streaker.”
Gin studied Lemon. “Blood thirsty ye have become, Mistress Drop.”
“Should they not pay?”
“Of course, but ‘tis a difficult thing. If pirates commit violent acts upon shore ‘tis within the
Guards and Watchers’ jurisdiction to detain and bring to trial.”
“But…”
“That is if a pirate is caught. Now, did that same pirate commit that same act upon the sea
only do we need worry about the Pirate Council and ‘tis a rare thing for the Pirate Council to
take issue with a claim such as our Streaker’s.”
“Is there aught we can do while at sea? ‘Tis awful what they did to him and… It seems most
unfair that we…”
Gin held up his hand and then looked at Streaker. “Ever do the ara Baen hoist sail?”
“’Tis not often, expecting as they do for others to do the menial tasks of life. Truly would ye
help me seek vengeance against them?” He was still reeling from Lemon and Gin declaring him:
our Streaker. He could not recall a time when someone had claimed him so.
“A family we have become. Aye, ‘tis a short time we have been gathered, but I hold nae
doubt of the connection we have all made in that time. What I would like to do—after we finish
with The Mistress Grey—is return to Ganos to gather full crew. If we are to do a proper
bedeviling, methinks ‘twould be best had we more bodies aboard. Unless,” he looked at Jasper,
“ye think ‘tis possible to do so as we are.”
“Aye, ‘tis possible, but a few more members would not hurt. I do worry were we to become
targeted by those such as the House of Skyn. A fine crew we are, with many a trick within our
arsenal, but our few numbers does put us at a disadvantage in such cases. Did we find more
pirates such as ourselves to fill our ranks, I would feel more confident.”
“Ma, whatever happened to the rest of yer crew? Would they be about?”
Jasper’s eyes held a haunting sadness as she gazed upon those gathered. “Many I lost
contact with. ‘Twas a matter of…luck, fate, that Bass was at that tavern for I knew not what had
become of him. As for the rest, one or two sail now with yer sister, having stayed close after I
landlocked myself. Bottle settled on Terlyra and now has a large family. ‘Tis possible one of his
children might sail with us. Bass, know ye where Hat and Shard went off to?”
Bass walked over to Jasper and placed his hands upon her shoulders, squeezed. He kissed
her forehead, smiling. “Did ye never see the longing looks they shared?”
“I saw, but both always chased women.”
“Aye, ‘tis so, but then one day they shared a woman and each other. They each knew not
what to do.”
“I recall each seemed most uncomfortable around the other for a time. I thought mayhap it
had something to do with that experience ye spoke of, but I wished not to pry.”
“Not long after ye disbanded the crew they both drunk themselves silly and ‘twas then they
were able to admit what they felt. Married they are now with ten children and a growing number
of grandchildren. Ye worry so Capt’n, but I told ye, we thought ye acted as any of us would. Ye
protected and avenged yer son.”
“A fine friend ye are.” Jasper pressed a kiss to both of Bass’s cheeks. “Now, as for rounding
out our numbers, Bass and I will do what we can to locate what is left of my old crew, but we
need figure what to do with The Mistress Grey first, then we should look into what to do about
our Streaker’s situation. Or do I overstep myself in saying so, Capt’n Gin?”
“Nae. We hold much the same opinion. Mind ye waiting a time more for vengeance,
Streaker?”
“Nae, Capt’n.” Streaker shook his head. “Just know, that do I come across those bottles,
they will be smashed.”
“Understood, but in need we are of funds, so whatever else we can find aboard The Mistress
Grey, we need take. Now, Mistress Stone, Jag, Master Drum, tell us all ye learned—I believe we
were discussing our target’s security.”
* * *
As everyone was disembarking Treasure Hunter that evening, each heading in the proper
direction as per the plan—Master Drum, Gator, Torin and Streaker heading towards the pub and
Jag, Lemon, Rune, Jasper and Gin heading towards The Mistress Grey.
“Torin,” Gin called out, “does it become ugly, teleport to the boat, I would have ye not
become involved in the fighting.” A bit of the tightness in his chest eased when Torin nodded.
“Master Drum, I count upon ye and Gator to keep my treasure safe.”
“Aye, Capt’n. We will allow naught to happen to him. ‘Tis a promise.”
Rune pulled Gin aside, uncaring if he were done speaking with Torin and Master Drum.
“Still am I not comfortable with my son acting as bait. He…”
“I know very well yer feelings, Master Stone, but not only did he volunteer, ‘tis the way it
needs to be. Have faith yer blood runs thickly in his veins. Or do ye think yerself incapable of
watching his back? Or that Jasper…”
Rune attempted to smack the side of Gin’s head for the insult, but Gin ducked and started
laughing at him. Rune growled, “Arrogant ye have become.”
“And ye worry like an old woman. Now, in need we are of playing our parts; have this plan
fall apart because we were late I will not.”
“Lads, do I need grab yer ears?” Jasper stood a bit down the dock, hands upon her hips.
“Nae need to grab mine, but mayhap did ye grab Rune’s…” Gin teleported away from Rune,
once more laughing. “’Tis time to move, Master Stone. Vengeance calls, does it not?”
“When this is done, consider yerself challenged to a proper thrashing.”
Jasper shook her head, knowing the two men needed her about to keep them in line. How
they made it this far in their lives without her, she knew not.
Entering the pub, Torin and Streaker stepped away from Master Drum and Gator who
slipped into the gathered crew of The Mistress Grey, mingling--both sets of men having a
slightly different part of the plan to enact. Torin and Streaker started towards the table where the
captain sat; Torin was carrying his briefcase.
“Certain ye can sustain the Elaquian lilt?” Streaker pulled at his coat, already feeling
confined.
“Worry not, my friend,” Torin’s voice lilted as if he were born in Elaquin, “my Lara was
originally from Elaquin and we spent much time there.”
“In need I am of having this done with. Just pretending…”
“Think of it as the first step towards your vengeance.”
“Aye, aye.” Streaker cleared his throat and forced himself to speak not as an Elaquian pirate,
but as a man raised by the High Commons, “Yes, indeed.”
Torin laughed. “Indeed. Here we are.” He sobered as he and Streaker stopped in front of the
captain’s table. The captain seemed to be in the midst of telling a story. Torin found he did not
care. He spoke sharply, instilling within his voice the proper arrogance of a man of finance, “Are
you Captain Glis olk Farl of The Mistress Grey?”
The captain looked over at the two men who interrupted him; he was about to get to the
good part of the telling and held no appreciation for the interruption. “Who are you?”
“I represent the House of ara Baen. To our attention it has come that you have within your
possession a stolen case of my employers two hundred and twenty-five year drambu. I have been
instructed by my employers to retrieve it.”
“I know not of what you speak.” The captain turned away and continued the telling of his
story.
“All bottles of ara Baen drambu have a locator spell infused within the label,” Streaker used
the same arrogant tone as Torin. “Know we do that the bottles are within your possession and we
would have them back.”
It was true about the locator spell. Having worked several summers within the ara Baen
distillery as a fetching lad after his mother married Arkis ara Baen, he knew all about such
things. The spell was undetectable—at least in the newer bottles. The older bottles, the spell was
cruder, but still hard to detect unless one was looking for such things. Though it mattered very
little if the spell was detected. One needed to know the counter spell to deactivate the original
spell or the bottle would shatter. He would place a wager that already had the ara Baen come
looking for the bottles and that there were more in pursuit—just another reason why he wanted
naught to do with the bottles.
The captain clenched his jaw, feeling the curious stares of his tablemates, the growing
number of his crew watching him. “And you are?”
“Samus ara Baen. The family has sent me along with one of our men of affairs to make
certain this retrieval goes without incident. Already do we have missing employees and wish not
to lose further. Now, we would have the case of drambu. Tired the Patriarch has become of this
chase and has given us leave to make an example of the one who holds our stolen property.”
“Do you threaten me?”
“Yes, we do. The House of ara Baen allows none to steal from us. Cooperate quietly and
gladly will we forget this incident or does this need escalate? Doubt I do you would have all
those present know that you keep stolen property of such high value.”
The captain stood, knocking his chair backwards. “Do you accuse me of being pirate?”
“Do we need to? Truly it matters little how you came into possession of these bottles,
Captain, the House of ara Baen want what is theirs returned immediately.”
“Within my rights I am to challenge you for such lies.”
Streaker smiled, placed his hand upon the hilt of his sword. “If needs be, gladly will I accept
this challenge.”
“Master ara Baen,” Torin placed his hand upon Streaker’s shoulder, “we are here to collect
the case of drambu, not engage in swordplay.”
“Always do you worry, Master eth Welex. Did not the Patriarch give us leave to use force
did we need it?”
“He did, but I would prefer to do this in a peaceful manner.”
“That he lies about holding our case of drambu…”
* * *
“Suppose do ye that those two speak true, lad?” Master Drum, standing at the back of the
pub, spoke loud enough so those around him could hear the question. Long had it been since he
had stirred such trouble, he had almost forgotten the thrill of it. “Two hundred year drambu,
‘twould bring a pretty debloo.” He let out a low whistle. “Just one bottle and never would I need
answer to another again.”
“Finally could I ask Miss Honey to marry me without objection from her papa.” Gator shook
his head, doing his best to keep from smirking. “To think I could build her that manor she
dreams about and never need worry about placing food in our babes tums.”
“Aye.” Master Drum nodded to Gator when he heard the soft whispers from the various
patrons of what they would do with such wealth. “Wonder I do what that capt’n does keeping
such a find from his crew. A fine split could be made were even half the bottles sold.”
“Surely the capt’n would tell us did he hold such treasure,” murmured a scruffy
crewmember. “What think ye, Jack, do those men lie?”
“Such estates do place locator spells upon their most prized creations, not wishin’ to lose
them. ‘Tis what I would do, keep them that would thieve away from my treasure good.”
“To hold such debloo as to buy my woman any dress she desired, ‘twould be grand indeed.”
“A fine hat mine been staring at in the hatter’s window, did I bring it to her, such kisses
would she give me.”
“Me younger lads need new breeches, only wearing hand downs from their elder brothers.
Never would they need share or my husband need stitch the holes in the knees and bottoms again
did I have but a portion of that treasure.”
Gator and Master Drum moved to a different section, wanting to keep an eye on Torin and
Streaker, especially now that the crew was beginning to air their grievances. Besides, the captain
looked ready to murder and Streaker looked ready for the same.
“That he lies about holding our case of drambu…” Streaker began to slide his sword free of
the scabbard.
“Surely did he tell the truth, the Capt’n would feel nae need for violence,” Master Drum
continued stirring the crowd.
“Did he tell the truth, that he held not those bottles, would he not offer to prove it, to allow
these men to search his boat?” Gator answered by offering his own observation.
“Capt’n,” one of the crew stepped forward, “prove to them you hold not these bottles. Prove
to us that you do not keep such riches for yourself.”
The captain looked at those gathered, his face red with fury. “Where is your loyalty?”
None answered, instead waited for the captain to deny he held the bottles, to prove that he
was not such a dishonest man. They were merchants not pirates.
Bang!
The door to the pub slammed against the wall, glass shattering, as an older sailor rushed
inside, his eyes wild and his breaths harsh puffs of air. “Captain, di…”
“What do you do here, Master Bark?” The captain was losing patience and his temper.
“Ordered you were to watch the boat, now return…”
Master Bark turned stubborn. “Is it true? Did you and Miss Wenny sentence young Jag to
hang because…because he learned you had a stolen stash of Jewel Age drambu?”
The pub exploded with shouts of betrayal from the crew of The Mistress Grey and then as
one they surged towards their captain—some wanting answers, others wanting blood.
* * *
“Oi! Ye crusty old sea barnacle!” Jag yelled from the base of The Mistress Grey’s
gangplank. For some reason, and he knew not the why of it, he was speaking in the rough
parlance of a pirate. “Oi!”
“What do you want?” An older sailor looked over the side railing.
“Not ye, Master Bark, the ugly bitch next to ye.”
Wenny typ Janel, the first mate of The Mistress Grey, looked over the railing, her face
pinched with fury over being called ugly and swore seeing the smirking lad below. “I know not
how you escaped, you shit, but know when I get my hands upon you…”
Jag turned and patted his ass. “Ye frighten me not, but if ye wish it, come down and prove
yer words. Or do ye guard those precious bottles of two hundred year drambu ye and the capt’n
hide within yer cabins? Doubt I do the crew would be pleased to learn ye kept such treasure for
yerselves.”
“Shut up!”
“Then ye deny not that ye have them. Did ye hear that, Master Bark? She and the capt’n
have a case of Jewel Age drambu aboard that boat. ‘Tis why I was accused of such a vile act
towards the old barnacle—I learned of their ill-gotten treasure. Each bottle, worth a fortune ‘tis.
Never would a man need work again did he have but one to sell.”
“Shut up!” Wenny rushed down the gangplank, her hands outstretched, her fingers curled
into claws.
Laughing, Jag patted his ass once more, and took off running. “Catch me if ye can.”
She reached the bottom of the gangplank and looked for the little bastard, but only heard his
laughter distancing itself. “Bark! Aid me to catch the vile creature.”
“Is it true what he said, do ye and…”
“What sort of fool are you? A liar he is, son of an Outcast, listen not to a word he speaks.
Now aid me to find him.”
Pine Bark descended the gangplank to do as ordered, but eyed the first mate warily as he
moved past, not certain he believed her words. In the time he had known the lad, Jag had not
seemed the sort to abuse a woman or to lie about such…such treasure. He had seen the lad with
his mother, offering her a kiss upon the cheek before each voyage.
Something clattered further up the dock and then the sound of footsteps echoed interrupted
only by soft snickers of taunting laughter.
“Behind those crates!” Wenny pointed. “You go left, I go right; surround him we will and
then teach him a lesson proper.”
Master Bark did as ordered despite what objections he held. The first mate acted not like a
woman violated, but as one spurned. Was she such a vindictive individual that she would have a
young lad hanged because he wished not for a relation? Or worse, would the captain hang an
innocent because he stumbled upon a fantastic secret?
He lost sight of the first mate as he rounded the crates and had actual thoughts of leaving her
to find Jag himself. Something deep within him wanted naught to do with this situation. It was
wrong, this scene was wrong. What if it was a trap?
He was shoved against the crates, a large forearm a bar across his throat. He stared into a
face that could only be Jag’s in another twenty years. Fuck!
Vengeance.
“Aye, ‘tis easy to see ye know what this is about.”
“The lad be your son.”
“A smart one ye are. Aye, my son Jag is, and I take not kindly to what happened to him. Do
I judge ye upon the actions of yer first mate and capt’n?”
Rune offered Master Bark no chance to answer, instead grabbing his arm and forcing him
the rest of the way around the crate. There they found Jasper and Lemon holding the first mate,
Lemon with a dagger to Wenny’s throat.
“Do I slice her open, husband, and gladly dance within her blood? Or mayhap, I ought to
peel the skin from her face so nae longer is she pretty?”
Gin laughed. “Aye a most blood thirsty woman ye have become, Mistress Drop. And
methinks Master Stone minds it not.”
“Why would I mind? ‘Tis a fine thing to see a mother so protective of her lad.” Rune tossed
Master Bark to Gin. “I know not what to think of that one. Jag, what say ye? Is the old man in
need of meeting The Firedaimon?”
“Nae, Papa. Always has Master Bark been kind to me. ‘Twas the old sea barnacle there who
caused me trouble, even when first I joined The Mistress Grey crew and I did naught but show
her respect. She shoved me within her cabin and…” Jag snapped his teeth together, embarrassed,
and eased back into the shadows of the crates to hide the heat filling his face. “I am bigger and
stronger than she, but Ma would strip my hide did I treat a woman with any violence. Impossible
‘twould have been to escape her clutches without hurting her did I use the strength needed.”
Jasper twisted her hand in Wenny’s hair and pulled her head further back. “What sort of…
woman,” it was spat as if it tasted bad, that it pained her to have Wenny as a member of the same
sex, “are ye that ye need force a young lad to service ye against his will? Were ye a member of
my crew keelhauled ye would be for such an action.”
Wenny snorted, feeling no fear. “A young lad always desires a woman. Lucky he should feel
that I gave him my attention, that I tried to make him a man.”
Gin returned Master Bark to Rune and took the dagger from Lemon, holding it to Wenny’s
throat himself. “Lucky he should feel? Mayhap the lad finds ye repulsive. Indeed I do. Never
could ye stir me and had I been the one cornered, lucky ye would be not to feel my dagger for
such an offense. Folks like ye anger me, thinking ye can bully and take from those dependent
upon yer mercy.”
A throat cleared and a hand rested for a moment on his. He looked and found Lemon,
sympathy within her eyes as if she knew what he had lived through. Taking a deep breath,
knowing they needed to continue with what they were about, Gin returned the dagger to Lemon.
“Mistress Stone, Jag, let us leave this bitch with Rune and Lemon. We have another pressing
issue to deal with.”
“What of me?” Master Bark blurted.
Jag stepped out of the shadow he had hidden in. “I spoke nae lies, Master Bark. I did not
attack Miss Wenny.”
“And what of the drambu? Did you truly find bottles of Jewel Age drambu?”
“Aye. The capt’n had called me in to his cabin, wishing me to carry a few things to the hold.
I picked up one box after placing the cover upon it and asked if he wished it to go with the
others, but he grabbed it from me, and then shoved me out of the cabin. I thought naught of it at
the time, ‘twas not the first box or case of expensive liquor that the capt’n had within his cabin.”
“’Tis untrue!” Wenny struggled, but stilled feeling the dagger bite into her neck, the blood
slowly winding its way down her skin. “He makes it all up. There are no bottles of this drambu
he speaks of. Honest merchants we are, never would we…”
“Nae! ‘Twas there, a box of Jewel Age drambu—the date of creation two hundred and
twenty-five years previous plainly stamped upon the sealing wax. Two days after that incident is
when ye pulled me within yer cabin and a similar box there was within yer cabin. At the time I
thought mayhap the capt’n had placed the box within yer care, but ‘tis not so; ye split a case with
him. ‘Twas not long after my refusal to bed ye that I was accused of attacking ye.”
“It surprises me that she has such loyalty to the capt’n. Was I the only one expecting her to
have tears and claim the capt’n put her up to all actions?” Rune crossed his arms over his chest.
“Or some other sad story as to why she would accuse my son of such actions. Aye, fine looks
does she have, but is her arrogance so great that a rebuff from a lad not yet his majority would
have her act so?”
“Master Stone,” Gin interrupted, “do ye recall that Keeper upon Ganos, the one before
Xera?”
“Aye, aye. Always was she chasing the younger lads. Though there is naught wrong with
such, but it seemed an obsession with her.”
“And many were caught within her web, and certain I am that one of those lads was our
Leather Boots though he speaks naught of it.”
“There was that one lad running down the street completely bare and she was chasing him,
calling him foul names because he loved a lad.”
“Aye. This one, she reminds me of her. Do ye recall what Mack said that one time, his
thoughts upon what to do to that Keeper did she touch one of his lads?”
“Aye.” Rune smirked. “’Tis a fine suggestion. Now off with ye three while Lemon and I
deal with this bitch.”
“And me?” Master Bark swallowed. He disliked the look upon Rune’s face.
“We release ye—but only if ye understand the situation.”
“N-never have I known the lad to lie…a-a-and n-never have I known pirates to tell tall tales
of such treasure.”
“Good, now off with ye as well. Find yer capt’n, ask him why and see what he has to say for
himself.” Gin gave Master Bark a shove towards the pub before motioning for Jasper and Jag to
lead the way.
With the surge of the mob, the captain lunged for Torin. He blamed both Torin and Streaker
for causing his crew to mutiny, but figured Torin the weaker of the two with his fine dress and
portly stature. Instead of the man of affairs cowering, Torin took his briefcase and smashed it
into the side of the captain’s head. Torin had been bullied for too long by the ryn Ferths to allow
the captain to do the same.
Streaker pulled his sword, fending off the crew who thought to attack him, doing what he
could to also keep Torin safe as Torin tried to deal with the captain of The Mistress Grey. Gator
and Master Drum shoved through the crowd trying to reach Torin to pull him out of angry mob;
Gin would be most upset did Torin gain even a scratch.
Torin again smacked the captain with his case sending him stumbling backwards. He
followed him and struck him a third time with the case. He then offered a vicious kick to the
captain’s groin, pleased with the captain’s howl and then turned, pulling his sword out, having
heard the clashing of metal behind him. Streaker was grinning broadly, enjoying the fight.
“Why do they fight us, when ‘tis their captain who is the issue?”
“Who enjoys not a good fight, my friend?” Streaker continued with the smooth Elaquian lilt
of the High Commons. “You did not hesitate to join in.”
Torin shook his head and defended himself against an oncoming attack, his sword catching
his opponent’s blade. He offered a twist, sending the blade flying into the crowd. “Uncertain as
to why I fight when I was instructed not to do so, but I seem to be ignoring good advice.”
“Are you not nephew to Mistress Stone?”
“I am, yes.”
“Then you have your answer. Now, shall we leave the captain to his fate, or pull him out of
here and allow the others to deal with him?”
“Methinks Rune would prefer to skin him himself.” Torin danced out of the way of another
attacker and then once more used his briefcase as a weapon, swinging it into the hand carrying
the dagger, then bringing it down upon the man’s head.
“Fuck, Torin, what are ye about?” Master Drum kicked a man out of his way, out of reach of
Torin. “In need we are of leaving.”
“’Tis so, but we need grab the captain. It appears that he attempts to crawl out upon his belly
like the groundslider he is.”
“’Twas a fine usage of yer case, sir. Never did ye hesitate.” Gator elbowed a man in the
face. “Methinks the capt’n need not worry so about ye.”
Shaking his head, Torin ducked under a swinging fist and dodged another as he made his
way towards the captain, determined to gain Rune his vengeance for Jag. He would hope another
would do the same for him were it his son in need of avenging. Grabbing the captain by the back
of his jerkin—the captain’s coat was hanging by the broken door—preparing to teleport out, the
captain turned about, trying to fight off who dared to stop his escape, and clobbered Torin in the
mouth.
“Release me, you filthy…”
Torin banged his case into the captain’s head once more, this time knocking him out, but hit
him again for the bloody lip. Motioning to Master Drum, Gator and Streaker that he was ready,
he teleported from the pub to Treasure Hunter, thoughts of sending the owner of the
establishment an anonymous payment for the damages.
* * *
Returning with the final haul of The Mistress Grey’s cargo, minus the case of drambu—that
had been left in deference to Streaker, though it had been most difficult to do—Gin began
running down the dock after seeing Torin arrive at the base of the gangplank with Master Drum
and Gator and what appeared to be an unconscious lump at Torin’s feet. He could feel the blood
drain from his face seeing the fresh blood on Torin’s chin, the drips upon his treasure’s collar.
He stared at Torin for several heartbeats taking a visual inventory of his person and then
began frantically patting him down looking for other injuries. Finding nothing wrong, he turned
furious eyes upon Master Drum and Gator, or tried to, but Torin forced him back around.
“All is well, pirate. ‘Tis a minor cut.”
“Ye should not hold any injury.” Gin pulled a square of cloth from his pocket and dabbed at
Torin’s lip, hoping he offered him no hurt. “How…?”
“Capt’n, nae need is there for such panic. Torin…” Gator closed his mouth when Torin held
up a hand.
“Methinks Gin need not hear such details at this moment.” He pressed his hand to Gin’s
cheek. “I am well, I promise. ‘Twas my own foolishness that caused my lip to be split, naught
else.”
“Ye were not supposed to…”
“Worry not about me.” Torin chuckled and pressed a kiss to the side of Gin’s frowning lips,
hiding the wince of pain. “Where are Rune and Lemon? A gift I have for them.” He motioned to
the captain of The Mistress Grey.
A yelp of pain sounded from the captain, who had begun to stir.
“Easy, lad.” Jasper pulled Jag away from offering his former captain a second kick. They
had just finished storing the last of the cargo from The Mistress Grey in the hold.
“He deserves worse. And why should Ma and Papa have him? I was the one he wished to
hang.”
The captain focused his eyes on Jag. “Little bastard. I know not how you escaped…”
Torin struck the captain with his case once more. “Speak not to my cousin so.”
“Who are you? Doubt I do you work for the ara Baen. No longer do you speak with the
Elaquian lilt.”
“Someone you should show respect to. Now, how did you come by those bottles of drambu?
Claim not that you do not hold them, we know differently.”
“Aye, we know differently.” Streaker knelt down and pressed his dagger to the captain’s
throat. “Tell us.”
“So you might take them for yourselves?”
“We want naught to do with them.” Guilt ate at him, knowing that out of loyalty to him, his
crew gave up the fortune those bottles could bring. “The murderous bastards… Did ye kill
someone for them?”
“So you faked who you are as well?”
“Nae. Adopted I was when one of the ara Baen married my mother, ‘tis my name by right. I
know well those bottles are upon yer boat; the locator spells are indeed still active. Oh ho!”
Streaker guffawed seeing the captain pale. “Then ye did naught for them to earn such a bounty.
Truly they are stolen. Whom did ye take the bottles from? Never say ye took them from the ara
Baen.”
“What would it mean did he take them from their origins, considering the spells are still
upon the bottles?” Gin asked.
“’Tis blood the ara Baen would want and ‘tis blood they will spill.”
The captain started stammering, “D-did I say I g-gave them to you…”
Streaker laughed again, though his laughter held less humor than previous. “Only more
blood would they spill, considering I killed the eldest son of the Patriarch. Granted that bastard
killed my mother, but little does that matter to the ara Baen.”
“Gladly would I give you one did you remove the locator spells.”
“I want naught to do with those bottles, ‘tis blood gold…”
“My friend,” Gin interrupted as he placed a hand on Streaker’s shoulder, “we worry not
about the bottles; ‘tis not the why of our vengeance for this outing. Though admit I must it makes
fine knowledge to hold for blackmail. Mmm, indeed, fine knowledge. I wonder what we could
gain did we hold the secret and not leave message for the ara Baen of this man’s whereabouts.”
Gin focused on their prisoner. “Surely ‘tis worth much, considering yer life is upon the plank.”
“I…I have silk from Gabo Nao on the eastern seaboard of the Wild Coast.”
Gin whistled. “Aye, ‘tis a fine bit of treasure that, but unfortunately for ye, ‘tis already
within the hold of my vessel.”
The captain thought to make an objection, but bit his tongue. “A…a case of taqua do I have
‘neath my bed from Alegar in the Far Southern Isles. ‘Twas won in a game of chance from the
king.”
“Oooh!” Jasper disappeared in a flutter of shadows rubbing her hands together.
Torin snorted. “Aware I am that the man who calls himself the king in Alegar is a false
monarch. He holds the true heir within a dungeon with threats of execution if the citizens do not
do as he says.”
“What goes on?” Rune walked up to the group, his arm about Lemon’s shoulders. They
were both wearing pleased pirate smiles.
“A gift I have for you, cousin.” Torin motioned to the prisoner. “I rescued him from the mob
in the pub so that you might do as you will.”
“Oi! Did I not tell you of my case of taqua?”
“Do ye mean this case of taqua?” Jasper nudged a small case with her foot after reappearing
within the same flutter of shadows. “’Tis mine now. But if I recall, ye were offering us bribes to
keep secret yer thievery from the ara Baens, not to stop my son from stripping yer hide.
Understand, sir, that those of my House, we take it as a grave insult to have one of our own
falsely accused, especially when ye attempt to hang a lad such as Jag.”
Master Drum, having been enjoying watching the captain squirm, stopped Rune from
grabbing him. “In a moment, lad. This one, my brother’s dynma stones he has, and yet has he to
pay for them.”
The captain looked at Master Drum. “What is this?”
“My brother and client, Maskus dyt Xare, is owed much by ye.” Master Drum summoned a
roll of parchment and unwound it, looking over the legal document. “Ye recall, the man ye
accused of selling false dynma stones six months prior, he wishes his stones back and he sends
me to collect. Now, if ye say ye sold them and hold not the funds to pay me what is owed, within
my rights I am to take yer boat. Or do ye forget ‘tis yer boat ye put up as collateral to gain the
stones.”
“F-false they were.”
Master Drum crossed his arms and waited, offering his most menacing stare.
Lemon poked Rune and whispered, “In need I am of learning such a stare, husband. It
reminds me much of the High Keeper’s.”
“Aye, ‘tis a much needed skill for our chosen paths.”
The captain visibly swallowed, sweat beginning to dot his forehead and upper lip. “A space
there is within the headboard of my bed. ‘Twill open when you press the center of the middle
flower. ‘Tis within that you will find the stones.”
“Capt’n Jasper, mind ye…” Master Drum began to ask, but Jasper was already gone. “If
they are not all there, still will I take yer boat.”
The captain blanched. “You-you cannot take my boat, ‘tis my livelihood.”
Rune grabbed the captain and hauled him up to his feet by his jerkin, glaring savagely. “A
livelihood based upon betrayal, cur thief. Mayhap a second thought ye will give do ye ever think
to hang a lad under yer protection.”
“Pirate!” the captain hissed. “’Tis within my right to deal with a pirate harshly.”
“Oi! Nae pirate was I until after ye attempted to hang me, after the High Keeper of all
Keepers rescued me.”
“A likely…”
The captain’s words were cut off when Rune gave him a sharp, nasty shake. “My lad speaks
true. ‘Twas the High Keeper of all Keepers who took him from yer hold, the woman known as
The van Wyrn. Never tell me a man such as ye knows not of her.”
“I…”
“What say ye, husband, do we do with him as we did with the other?”
For the first time the captain noticed Lemon. “Outcast! Never should I have taken one of
your blood upon my boat, but then you offered so sweetly the use of your…”
Rune threw the man against a lamppost, grabbed him up and struck him before throwing
him again. He fell onto him and continued striking him, his fists pounding into the captain’s
flesh, uncaring when he fell unconscious and unable to fight back.
Lemon worried the fight no longer held any sport, looked to Jasper—who had returned
moments before with the bag of dynma stones—not knowing what she should do. What if a
Guard happened by? But before she could do or say anything, Gin moved in and pulled Rune off
the other man, narrowly avoiding one of Rune’s fists when he attempted to strike at the one
stopping him from killing the captain.
“Enough, uncle!” Gin forced Rune to stop, though he was unable to avoid a second angry
fist; he could taste blood in his mouth. “Fuck, man, enough!”
“Deserves he does to die!”
“Aye, ‘tis so, but would it not be better to kill him when he could see it coming?” Gin
released him, trusting that Rune would not fall back upon the captain and finish him off.
Rune’s chest heaved with each breath, rage still fueling him. The bastard dared imply that
Lemon offered herself to him. He knew that never would she. She would sooner gut a man for
such a thing, but it mattered little, the bastard still implied it, insulting Rune’s treasure, his wife.
He sought her out in the group, strode over to her and pulled her into his arms.
“Did I scare ye?”
“Nae. Though I worried a Guard would happen by. Besides, ‘tis nae longer sporting with
him unconscious.”
“Aye,” he whispered, “aye. I love ye. Never would I believe…”
“Never did I think ye would.” Lemon leaned back and pressed kisses all over Rune’s face.
“Thank ye for defending me.”
“So, does the boat now belong to ye, Master Drum?” Gator nudged the mid-aged man,
trying to peek at the bag of stones Jasper had handed him.
Master Drum shook his head. He knew the weight of the stones his brother had sold and this
bag was half that. He wondered what the captain did with the other half. “Nae not to me, but to
my brother in truth. Methinks he will be most pleased with that. Though I know not how to send
it to him.”
“Mayhap he would be just as pleased with the profit of its sale as he would with the
ownership of it?” Jasper suggested.
“Aye. Maskus would mind not the debloo in place of a boat.”
When discussion turned towards what to do with The Mistress Grey and who to sell her to,
Torin walked over to Gin, who leaned against the lamppost wiggling each of his teeth to
ascertain if any were loose.
He wiped the blood trickling from the side of Gin’s mouth with the pad of his thumb.
“’Twas some punch Rune dealt you. Are you well?”
Gin nodded, his eyes filled with pleasure having his treasure near. “Aye. Are ye? I dislike
that ye were struck.”
“’Twas when I grabbed the cur to bring him here for Rune, until then I was free of injury.”
“How do we kiss this eve when both our mouths are swollen?” His hand fluttered over the
split in Torin’s lip. He liked very much when Torin kissed him; he liked very much kissing
Torin. He had never thought kissing would give him such pleasure, but in some ways it was one
of the most arousing activities between he and Torin—what Torin could do with his mouth…
Chillbumps raised along his skin at the thought of those very things Torin liked to do.
“Simple, pirate, much like this.” Torin leaned in and kissed Gin, a smile upon his lips.
“Besides a Keeper or two do we have as crew and certain I am that they might be convinced to
heal such minor injury.”
“Methinks I am a bad influence upon ye if truly ye begin to mind not fighting.”
“No,” he took Gin’s face in his hands, “’tis a fine influence you have been upon me. I like
the confidence I feel, that no longer will I allow another to bully me or treat me with disrespect.
Because of you, now I have a family again.”
“Would ye believe me did I tell ye that I love ye?” it was a whisper.
Torin could swear his heart stopped for several beats. Did he mean…? But then he realized
he had not actually said the words. “’Tis a bit soon for such sentiment is it not?”
“Nae, my treasure ye are.”
“Pirate…”
Gin shoved himself from the lamppost, anger obliterating the softness he felt before. “Do ye
say I know not what love is, or what it means?”
“Place no such words within my mouth.”
“Ye claimed me as treasure, do ye change yer mind that I belong to ye?” But he did not wait
for Torin to answer, instead left him with mouth open, Gin’s long strides already taking him up
the gangplank. “Master Stone, an hour ye have to do as ye will with the capt’n, nae more. The
same for ye, Master Drum, an hour to sell The Mistress Grey do ye desire it. ‘Tis time to set sail
now that our vengeance has been met.”
“Aye, Capt’n.” Rune took Lemon’s hand and then grabbed the captain by the back of the
jerkin, dragging him in the direction they had come from earlier. He wondered if the first mate
would like the company.
“Aye, Capt’n.” Master Drum decided to return to the pub to see if there were any who would
enjoy owning the merchant boat.
“The rest of ye,” Gin barked, “ready the boat, we head to Ganos.”
“Is all well, Capt’n?” Jasper called, the case of taqua lifted and ready to be placed on board,
but her attention was focused on Streaker slipping away.
Gin kept walking. “Place the taqua in the hold, Mistress Stone, and then make certain all
cargo is tied properly.”
Torin followed Gin up the gangplank preparing himself for what he was certain would be an
ugly scene. He had reacted to Gin’s declaration without Reading the situation first. He should
have, especially when dealing with Gin, but he did not want to always do so. And Gin had not
acted in a way that caused Torin to feel as if he should Read what went on.
The door to the captain’s quarters was locked.
“Gin, unlock the door. I would discuss this.”
“Nae need do I feel to discuss aught with a liar.” Gin rubbed his hand over his heart. Surely
this was a nightmare. Torin had said he belonged to him. He heard a soft thump on the door, but
stayed where he was.
“Never have I lied to you, pirate.” Torin had leaned his back against the door and allowed
his head to fall back against it. He was glad the door to the captain’s quarters was set back
beneath the quarterdeck, allowing him a touch of privacy. How could he have forgotten the
complications that made up Gin. “I meant all I said. But ‘tis not as if you placed a cuff upon my
wrist.”
“I need a cuff to declare my feelings? I cannot tell ye I love ye unless we are married?”
His heart stilled again upon hearing Gin use the word love once more. He would mind not
hearing it over and over and know that Gin truly meant it. “Mayhap ‘tis a nit I am picking, but
you offered no such declaration of feelings.”
“I did…”
“No, you asked in a whisper if I would believe you did you say it. ‘Twas as if you dipped a
toe into a pond, ready to pull back did it not meet your expectations of warmth. Or if it
embarrassed you to say…” He shook his head. “Why is the door locked? This conversation
would best be had face to face.”
“So that ye might overpower me, make me forget the hurt ye dealt?”
“No desire do I have to overpower you when rather I would…” Suddenly he was weightless
and falling. “Fuck!”
* * *
No desire do I have to overpower you…
Feeling a new sense of panic, surely he did not mean… Gin unlocked the door and yanked it
open, about to demand: Why not?
Except Torin fell hard at his feet.
He stood there not knowing what to do for several seconds, staring at Torin lying upon the
floor. That soft thump he heard earlier must have been Torin leaning against the door. Worried,
Gin dropped down to his knees and cradled Torin’s head upon his lap. He brushed hair off
Torin’s face, let his fingers tremble over the thickening beard upon Torin’s cheeks. He had yet to
tell Torin that he enjoyed the hair upon his face. He loved the feel of the beard prickling his body
when they were intimate.
Torin blinked, rubbed a hand over his head, a crooked smile turning up his lips. “Mayhap a
bit of warning next time, pirate.”
“I knew not that ye leaned against the fucking door!”
“No need is there to yell, I offer no accusations. Why are you so upset?” He sat up with
Gin’s help and then looked at his lover, but Gin remained stonily silent. With a sigh he climbed
to his feet and walked over to the liquor cabinet, pouring himself a finger’s worth of yiska. “Do
you keep silent about the reasons for your temper, how am I to make any possible amends?”
“Ye can Read the reasons can ye not?”
“Yes and no. Rather would I not have to rely upon such a measure, when all I wish is to
speak with you. As for the other, I can tell you are angry and I could navigate what words might
make you more so and mayhap less so, but I cannot know the exact reasons. ‘Tis obvious I said
something that upset you and I would like to hear from your own lips what the cause was.”
“You believe not my feelings for you.”
“You said not your feelings. You danced around them. Do you have feelings, tell them to
me, do not ask how I would feel were you to mayhap possibly say that mayhap…”
“’Tis not what I did. And because I said my feelings nae longer do ye wish to have sex.”
Torin spit out the sip of yiska he had just taken into his mouth, slammed the chubby goblet
down on the cabinet and spun around, his eyes wide. “What foolishness is this?!”
“’Tis what ye said.”
“Never have I said such. Never would I say such.”
“’Twas fine yiska ye spit out.” Gin closed the door and then went and stood at the bank of
windows.
“Gin, tell me why you think I would not wish to have sex with you.”
“’Tis what ye said before I opened the door, that nae desire did ye have to overpower me.
Might I ask what I did that changed yer mind? Is it that the vengeance is over? Is it that we now
turn towards Ganos? Is it because I declared my feelings?”
Torin pinched the bridge of his nose, taking several deep breaths as he gathered his thoughts.
He wondered what Gin would do if he yelled at him. He thought the pirate deserved it for
believing such foolishness.
“You did not declare your feelings. You asked if I would believe you did you declare them.
Yes, ‘tis a nitpick, but you did not say you loved me. I would be most pleased did you actually
say those words instead of asking me…”
“Ye would mind not if I said them?”
Torin took several more deep breaths. “You obviously know me not if you need ask me that
stupid question.”
“’Tis not a stupid question. My father asked my mother such a question all the time and she
would ask it of him.”
“I am not your father. We are not your parents.”
“’Tis why I asked for a kiss each time ye would leave my side. ‘Tis what my parents did.”
Gin rubbed a hand over his heart. “Do ye tell me that is wrong?”
“Yeryl and Zasara! So many issues do you have. Do you wish for a kiss, there is naught
wrong with asking for one.” He bit his lips together knowing this conversation was getting out of
hand. “Pirate, if you love me, say that you love me. I would mind not hearing such words.” He
walked up to Gin, jerked him around and shoved him up against the windows, his body holding
Gin in place, ignoring his struggles. He knew that there was no way he could truly overpower the
pirate, Gin was much stronger than he, but he found it just as arousing to take control as Gin
found it to have his control taken from him, partially because of Gin’s strength.
Torin fisted his hand in Gin’s hair, forced him to look at him, to hold his gaze. “When you
said I would only overpower you did you let me within the cabin, you indicated that I would turn
this conversation into sex. ‘Twas not sex that I wanted at that moment, only to speak with you.
But, that means not that I wish not to fuck you any longer. Always do I desire to fuck you. How
can you be unaware of such a thing when I show you each time we are alone? Do you not see my
prick grow hard the moment that door closes? Tell me, can you not feel the hardness of my prick
at this very moment?” He shoved his hips, forcing his prick against Gin’s.
“Torin…” Gin sobbed as his body reacted to the sudden onslaught of sensation, of his
control being taken. He came within his breeches, the sudden orgasm causing his body to jerk.
Torin pulled Gin to the floor, their clothing disappearing as he did so. He frantically shoved
Gin’s legs up and apart. He called the glide oil to his hand and practically poured it between
Gin’s buttocks. He knew he was moving too fast, but there was little to do to stop himself.
Sending the oil away, his fingers sought the tight starbud and was quick to press a digit
within Gin. He had to, needed to, fuck him, but he held no desire to cause harm. He added a
second finger, plunging them in and out.
“Fuck me!” Gin yelled. “For once, just shove yer prick within me and fuck me!”
He needed no more encouragement. Using the excess oil upon his own prick, he replaced his
fingers with his cock and began pushing into Gin. “Stroke yourself!”
Gin did as ordered, grasping his cock and stroked it in time with Torin’s rocking
movements, concentrating on the fine feeling of his hand and not the burn of Torin’s entry.
Except he had demanded it, for Torin to take him, and found that he was minding not the
discomfort of being filled. It was much like when Torin would strike his buttocks hard with his
hand, a sharp and swift sting.
“Fuck, aye! Aye!” His prick was at full hardness once more and beginning to throb.
“Do I hurt you?” Torin panted, half of his length seated within Gin. He wanted to ram, to
shove, to just rut like a sex-maddened bull.
“Nae! ’Tis so fucking good! Please, take me; I want it hard. I want to be possessed by ye.
Fuck me!”
Torin lunged forward, completely filling Gin, both men crying out together—each
experiencing different, but equally intense pleasure. Falling forward, balancing upon his hands,
Torin began fucking Gin, taking him, pulling out and shoving in, flesh meeting in loud slaps. The
only sounds passing their lips were soft grunts and needy moans. This was the very first time he
faced Gin and the feeling was exquisite. To see Gin’s face while he rode him…
Pumping, pumping, his orgasm built in the same manner they were fucking, fast and hard.
He could feel it as his balls tightened, his feet curled, a giant ball of heat growing in the very core
of him.
“I cannot…last,” the words burst from his lips, a harsh groan. “I…”
“Then do not.” Gin knew not what overcame him but he released his prick, reached his
hands up and pinched Torin’s nipples tight. “Come! Come in me!” At that moment he cared little
of his own orgasm, only wanting Torin’s pleasure. Besides had he not come once already?
With that tiny burst of pain, Torin’s head flung back, yelling as he came, his body frozen,
his cock seated deep within Gin. Sharp bolts of pleasure filled him with each splash of cum from
his prick. He was certain he had never experienced anything like it before. Tears burned his eyes
as he tried to catch his breath, but they did not fall.
Torin remained over Gin, his arms and body trembling, his head eventually falling forward
to hang limply. He could not remember a time when he had been in such need.
When he could finally speak, he lifted his head and growled, “Never say I desire not to fuck
you.”
Gin reached up with both hands and caressed Torin’s rounded face. “I love ye.”
Torin’s trembling grew worse hearing those words, but it was not from the exertion. He
believed him, knew Gin meant them. He leaned down and kissed him, offering little nibbles,
pulling at Gin’s lower lip with his teeth. Finding that he had yet to soften, he began to slowly
thrust, in truth now making love to Gin instead of just fucking. He was not ready to say the
words himself, but he wanted to show Gin that he reciprocated his feelings.
“Say it again, pirate. Say the words.”
“I love ye.” Gin wrapped his legs about Torin’s soft body, pulling him into him, doing so
each time Torin pulled out. Something had changed, he knew not just what it was: the look on
Torin’s face, his body language. Or mayhap it had something to do with himself, that he had
given voice to his feelings. Whatever it was, he only wished it to continue, to feel like this, to
have this closeness. “I love ye.”
“You make me feel alive again, whole again,” Torin whispered, his lips brushing Gin’s. “I
belong again.”
“Always do I want this, to be with ye,” he returned the whisper, his hands still upon Torin’s
cheeks. He thought he felt tears fall upon his face, but they could have been his own. “I love ye.”
Gin’s breath caught, words faltering as pleasure built from each stroke of Torin’s cock, as it
rubbed the pleasure knot so slowly. When orgasm crested he cried out, pulling Torin into him,
holding him, never having felt more wanted. When Torin came within him once more, he had
never felt more needed.
* * *
“Never have I had angry sex before. Passionate, intense, yes, but never angry.” Torin folded
his arms behind his head. They were both lying on the floor staring up at the ceiling.
“Ye were angry?” Gin rolled onto his side and brushed his fingers over Torin’s beard. “I
enjoy this, yer beard. ‘Tis a fine feeling when ye rub it upon me.”
“I mind not when you hold stubble either.” It pleased him how Gin was opening up to him
about his intimate pleasures. “And yes, I was angry. Close I came to yelling at you. ‘Tis an
interesting experience to fuck while angry.”
“I would rather ye not be angry with me, but ‘twas indeed interesting.” He touched Torin’s
nipples. “Did ye like that, when I pinched them?”
Torin reached over and pinched one of Gin’s nipples. When Gin softly moaned, when
pleasure wreathed his face, Torin rolled his lover beneath him. “Did you like it?”
“Do it again.”
As the sun rose the following morning, the captain of The Mistress Grey opened swollen
eyes, cold shivers waking him, trying to figure what the horrible yelling was, or why there was
laughter; his head was pounding and he wished it all to cease. Around him were the folks from
the port and members of his mutinous crew and it was from there the laughter emanated.
“You bilge rat bastards, untie me!” Wenny ordered.
“Why do you screech so, woman?” The captain tried to move, to see where his first mate
was, but found himself tied to a lamppost, the rope biting into his flesh.
“’Tis your fault.” She thrashed, uncaring about the rope burns she developed. “Had you
turned away that little bastard when first he applied to sail with us, never would this have
happened. Those bottles would have been ours with none the wiser.”
“Saw I did the way your eyes lit with lust when first he approached, so blame this not upon
me.” Feeling a breeze upon his prick, he looked down.
He was naked.
And there was a sign tied to and dangling from his prick.
“Are you clothed?”
“Nae!” Someone in the crowd yelled. “She be as naked as ye, though better to look upon.”
“I know the sign says free, but strictly does it state: good homes need not apply,” another in
the crowd crowed. “Where is Stink Pot? In need he is of another to clean that cabin of his; never
does he do it himself.”
“Mayhap she could help him bathe, too! He bathes less than he cleans his cabin,” another
added, elbowing his companion in the ribs as they laughed.
“’Tis better than what his sign reads,” a woman shouted. “Who wants a man with a prick
that works not properly?”
“M-my prick works splendidly!” the captain shouted, but his words only elicited more
laughter.
“Aye, to the left!”
The sound of feet running on deck pulled Gin grudgingly from his slumber. He lifted his
head from Torin’s abdomen with an annoyed grumble trying to decide if he were needed—the
sun had begun to fill the sky with its light. The shout that a boat approached…
“Scarred sun emblazoned! ‘Tis The Oil Rag starboard and advances she does swiftly.”
He thought it to be Gator with the announcement. After they had set sail the evening
previous, the lad had hardly taken his eyes off the horizon.
“The bastard!” Gin snarled and rolled from the bed. Snapping his fingers he dressed and
then started out of the cabin, grabbing his coat along the way, his sword already strapped to his
hips.
“What goes on?” Torin sat up and rubbed his hands over sleep heavy eyes.
Gin stopped and looked over his shoulder. He wished not to be out of bed, but to continue
lying with Torin, to mayhap become intimate. He was going to thrash Rig for this. “’Tis Rigger
Boots. He thinks to attack. Stay within the cabin and lock the door.”
“Wait, would you have me Read…?”
“Nae, love. Keep within the cabin for I know not what he is about and I would have ye
safe.”
Torin swatted his hand, a spell slamming the door shut just as Gin started to pull it open.
“Did I not show you I am capable in a fight?”
Gin’s eyes strayed to Torin’s lower lip. Lemon had healed it, but there was still a red line
from where it had been split; he was told it would fade. Of course he knew it would fade. How
many times had he seen such a mark, had such a mark, fade? But he hated that Torin had been
harmed, it made him ache. “Torin…”
“I will meet you upon deck, pirate. And think not to lock the door behind you! Or I will
throw something heavy at you when next you open it.”
Jaw working, Gin wished to argue, but the look upon Torin’s face said: ‘twould be best did
he not. “Very well, but does it…” A loud knock interrupted his words.
“Capt’n…”
Gin grabbed the handle and swung the door open. Jag stood on the other side. “Aye, I heard
the yell. Come along, lad.”
“’Tis Gator’s father.”
“Aye, he wishes retribution and we will meet him.” He grabbed the young man as he
attempted to shrink away. “Nae, Jag, hold nae such worry, fine sailors do we have upon this boat
in yer papa and gran. Master Drum is a fine one to have in our corner as well; I have seen him
fight and know what he is capable of. Ye do know how to handle a sword, aye?”
“Aye. But only are we a small number and…”
“’Tis so, but methinks Rig underestimates us and that is to our advantage. Did we not handle
the large crew of The Mistress Grey?”
“Aye.”
“Good.” Gin gave Jag a nudge forward and strode out on deck. He needed not his spyglass
for the approaching Oil Rag was nigh upon them. “Gator, I would have yer thoughts regarding
yer father’s actions.”
“He means to take me I am certain. If I know him at all, he will attempt to assert what he
believes to be his superiority upon this vessel, meaning he might sink it. ‘Tis what he has always
done when he clashes with others. When Jag and I left the pub, he was most furious that I
disobeyed him and Rune dared challenge him. That Rune defeated him…”
“’Twas my thinking as well.” Gin looked about and found all had gathered. “I see I need not
yell for all hands on deck. Mistress Stone, as a Keeper, any advice do ye have on how to
proceed.”
Jasper rubbed her hands together. “Swagger, Capt’n. ‘Twill take him off guard and offer us
the advantage.”
“Do ye have spells to protect the boat?”
“Already in place.”
Gator could not take his eyes from his father’s boat; dread was twisting his stomach into
knots. “If Papa sees ye, Mistress Stone, ‘tis possible he will charge.”
“Aye, ‘tis so, and I want none to interfere if or when he does. I will handle him while the
rest of ye deal with his crew.”
“Nae, Rigger is mine!” Gin clenched his jaw, his mind unchangeable. He wondered for a
moment what strategy Rum would come up with, but quickly tossed that thought aside. “Mistress
Stone, I would have ye remain in shadow unseen and do what ye can to limit the number of
boarders. Refuse I do to be overwhelmed with the marauding bastards when we are so few.”
“Aye, Capt’n.”
“Nae plans do I have to lose, but do I fall… Master Stone, I would have ye avenge me; I
would have one as ruthless as the House of Stone to deal with such a disaster.”
“Aye!” Rune nodded. “A day there will not be that I do not hunt them.”
Jasper slapped Gin on the shoulder. “Faith I have in ye, Capt’n; Whiskey’s lad ye are. Know
I do he smiles upon ye this day as ye do him and yer mother proud.”
Gin nodded, not allowing emotion to overwhelm him at such an announcement. He needed
to be cold and cold he would be. “Master Stone, do what ye do best, as with ye all. Torin…”
“I fight with the rest of the crew, Capt’n Gin.” Torin stood just to the side of Gin, sword
strapped about his waist, arms crossed.
“As do I!” Lemon kicked Rune in the shin when he tried to force her below deck.
Rune grabbed Lemon’s hand when she shoved past him. “Nae, I would have ye…”
“’Tis disturbing to have our treasures doubt us,” Torin growled low, hand finding the hilt of
his sword, “when we have absolute faith in them.”
“Aye, ‘tis.” Lemon drew her own sword, scowling at Rune. “We are members of this crew
and we will fight as such. We would have yer faith as ye have ours.”
“Get hurt, woman, and never will I forgive ye,” Rune growled.
“Spread out! Allow them not to bunch us like bovie. Remain focused. We may be small but
we are valiant!” Gin yelled, his sword at the ready; as captain he moved to stand before all his
crew. He wished they had a better plan, but there was not much they could do. He wondered
were Rum aboard if he would know. “Bastards make to board!”
* * *
“Capt’n…” Bounce stood next to Rig, worried, “’tis one of Red’s foundlings ye wish to
attack. Like sons they are to the old man.”
“Kidnapped they did the runt,” Rig snarled at his first mate, never lowering his spyglass. He
could see Gator standing at the rail, his face pale. Rig smirked. The lad would wish he had never
disobeyed him, to wish to sail with a mutt. After this, Gator would have no access to those on
Ganos—they were poisoning his mind.
“Surely not.” He shook his head, nervous laughter tumbling out. “Ye did leave the lad,
he…”
Rig grabbed Bounce by the face and shoved him away, sending him crashing to the deck.
“Ye dare question me? They have that sorry excuse of my blood, and it matters little who raised
that fucking pretender Gin. Never will I permit him to foster Gator. Do any others wish to
question me, keelhauled ye will be! Now prepare to board.”
* * *
Gin rolled his neck, shook his sword arm, loosening himself for the upcoming battle,
allowing the eagerness of a good fight to flow through him. His lip curled with contempt when
Rig leapt over the railings and landed on the deck of Treasure Hunter. He forced himself to keep
his eyes on his opponent when all he wanted to do was find Torin, to never let him out of his
sight, especially upon hearing the first clash of swords.
“That ye dare board without permission…”
“Nae permission do I need, bastard mutt, when my position is clear. I will take the runt and
sink this boat with ye upon it.”
“Not without a fight.”
Rigger laughed, cruelty in his voice, and charged, sword raised. “’Twill be as simple as
stepping upon a bug.”
Gin dipped under Rig’s swinging sword and slapped the flat of his sword against Rig’s ass,
thwap, as he circled around behind. Rig spun around and Gin motioned him forward and did it
again, striking the flat of his sword to Rig’s ass, thwap. When Rig came at Gin a third time, Gin
could see the anticipation in Rig’s eyes of what he would do and so stepped into him and struck
his chin with his elbow, deftly following it up with a jab. Gin moved away quickly when his
blows gained him no more than a few stumbled steps backward.
Rig quickly regained his footing and smirked, twirled his sword. “One would think a child
tapped me upon the chin, mutt. Mayhap my father and brothers think more of ye than what ye
are.”
Gin ignored the insult and continued the fight, mapping his strategy, looking for weakness.
He refused to believe he had taken on more than he could handle. He would not allow this pirate
to destroy all that he had recently gained, to harm those under his care, to harm his treasure.
He did as Red taught him, but then so did Rig, and they each cross-stepped to the side,
seeking the advantage of position. Gin lunged, bringing his sword down on Rig’s deciding that
he needed to learn exactly how Rig fought before figuring out how to defeat him since he knew
he could not do it on strength, but then quickly moved away from Rig’s counter attack.
He lunged again, thrusting, then danced away. He circled and lunged, once more jumping
out of the way of Rig’s return swing. Gin did this several more times, lunging, jumping back,
circling, keeping away from Rig’s attacks.
“Meet me or I call ye coward.” Rig attacked, his feet lifting off the deck as he flew at Gin,
sword once more poised to strike.
It was in that moment Gin heard Rune’s outraged roar. He lost focus and barely had time to
dodge Rig’s blow, his shoulder clipped by the hilt of Rig’s sword as he dropped to the deck,
rolling in a forward summersault. He hit the railing with his other shoulder, but managed to twist
around and kick out at the back of Rig’s knee sending the other man scrambling for purchase.
After regaining his feet, time seemed to stand still as he caught the battle that raged on his
boat. Jasper did as he had ordered, remaining in shadow and keeping the crew from being
overwhelmed by Rig’s men; it was all one on one fights—he could hear swearing from Rig’s
boat as his crew kept attempting to leap onto Treasure Hunter. He witnessed Lemon fending off
an attack to Rune’s back, as his first mate paid no mind to his surroundings. He could only
surmise that Rune had rushed to his fallen son, because there Jag was on the ground, blood
smeared on his face, and Rune, with bloody sword in hand, kicking away one of Rig’s crew who
had blood gushing from his abdomen.
“Focus, pirate!” Torin yelled seeing Gin standing there and gained a new bloody lip for his
effort. Torin retaliated and sent his opponent over the railing.
“Fight me ye fucking mutt!” Rig charged and rammed his shoulder into Gin sending him
flying, slamming into the main mast. He continued his charge, sword swinging towards his
opponent’s neck.
“To The Firebreath with ye, cur!” Gin raised his sword and parried, knocking Rig’s sword to
the side.
A surprised yelp burst from Rig’s mouth when his sword nearly left his hand. He swung
again, and again he almost lost his sword. “What is this ye do?”
“What needs doing. This ends now.” Gin jumped to his feet and went on the offensive,
forcing Rig back several steps, no longer caring about devising a strategy. The fight would end
and he would end it by any means.
Magik hummed along his blade as Gin continued his strikes—the van Wyrn his inspiration
for such a tactic, having watched her do something similar when she fought Green Ice. When Rig
left himself open, Gin moved inside and struck him, this time magik surrounding his fist causing
Rig more than a step back, but a full stumble, his head snapping hard to the side. He threw
another punch and sent Rig to his knees. He swung his leg, kicking at Rig’s head, but Rig threw
himself to the side.
Leaping up, Rig shook his head, blood trickling from the corner of his lips. He worked his
jaw, red beginning to cover his vision as temper fully took over. “It should offer me nae surprise
that a mutt would use such low tactics.”
“Nae!” Gator left his opponent, the other man’s arm bloody and limp, and ran towards his
father and Gin. He had seen that look aplenty upon Rigger’s face and never did it bode well. “Ye
bastard…”
Rig turned and kicked Gator in the chest, sending him down onto the deck. He lifted his leg
to kick him again thinking to teach him a lesson. That Gator dare attack him, he would put him
down if needs be.
“Rigger!” The bellow held death.
Mack stood upon the prow of his boat, his body ready to spring as they neared the two boats
engaged in battle. Oil upon water. It made sense now. Zeti had meant The Oil Rag—Rigger’s
boat. A Py had indeed meant Gin, which meant that the other words had been Gin’s crew. Nine.
Only nine sailed upon Gin’s boat and that included Gin.
Wait, Zeti had said a Boots. Had she meant, Rig? He narrowed his eyes seeing more than
one head of red hair. Gator. But he fought against his father’s crew.
“Fuck! Chink, I go ahead,” Mack yelled to his first mate. “Sidle up, and do I not have it
under control by that time, we are fighting Rig and his crew.”
“’Tis Rig we fight? But…”
“Aye. Papa will be most displeased.” Mack took a deep breath and teleported the distance—
a plea upon his lips to Yeryl and Zasara that he would make it.
Tumbling onto the deck, he rolled into a crouch, his eyes darting about the boat taking in the
full scene. He knew well his brother’s crew and began to pick out the ones who were not. Except
that it appeared that not all of Rig’s men were able to join the fight, though not for lack of trying
as they seemed to bounce off a shield each time they attempted the leap across. Every so often
one would make it through but only when one already aboard fell.
A smart bit of magik that. And a great battle strategy. It was something he would have to
remember for future reference.
Mack returned to counting the members of Gin’s crew, counting eight on deck—including
his nephew. To his surprise about three of them looked, despite their valiant effort and even raw
skill, to be new to the life. He was sure Zeti had mentioned…
Wait! There, hidden in shadow, was number nine. A woman of an age with himself,
watching the fight with shrewd eyes, spinning magik—the shield must be her work—and if a
member of his brother’s crew moved too close to her position, she removed them from this world
with lethal efficiency.
Seeing his brother deliver a vicious kick to Gator’s chest and make ready to kick him again,
Mack straightened and bellowed, “Rigger!”
Rig froze hearing that voice, his heart about to explode; there was only one man in this
world to cause him fear. How…? It was then he saw Mack, his brother, a man only six months
his junior, stalking towards him. Mack always appeared a giant in his temper. He stepped back
and again, especially seeing his brother strip off his coat.
“Rigger!”
The fighting stopped and a deathly silence followed. Rig’s crew, the few still standing,
began scrambling seeing that Mack Boots had joined the fight and had his sights set on their
captain. Gin grabbed Gator and motioned to his crew to regroup by the entrance to his cabin.
Lemon and Jasper quickly set about doing what they could to heal their small bunch, including
their own bruises.
Mack ducked a badly thought-out punch from one of Rig’s crew, one who had hoped to
foolishly aid his captain, and without looking or missing a step, Mack delivered a backhanded
fist sending the crewmember sprawling on the deck unconscious.
Feeling cornered, Rig jerked off his own coat and launched himself at Mack knowing there
was nothing else he could do, not when there was bloodlust within Mack’s eyes. The two large
men clashed, but Rig found himself outmatched as he did each time he and Mack traded fists. He
fought harder, emitting primal screams as he put his full strength behind each thrown punch,
each attempted kick, but he was unable to land a single strike.
* * *
Jag’s eyes flared wide as he watched the fight, never having seen such a sight. The one
thrashing Captain Rig moved as if knowing exactly what his opponent would do next, moving
swiftly and striking with such power. He cringed each time fist met flesh, but he could not look
away. He flinched when his mother spread some sort of foul cream upon the crisscrossing gash
he sustained on his cheek, but still his gaze never left the fight. He pulled his head away when
she blocked his line of sight as she tried to place a bandage upon the wound. He had to keep
watching.
“Do not move!” Lemon snapped.
“But…” Jag held still seeing the way she glared at him, though quickly looked around his
mother when she had the bandage in place. “Papa, ye said that large men rely only upon their
size.”
“Most large men, lad. The ones who also have a brain know well how to use both strength
and speed. Never could one call Capt’n Mack Boots stupid.” Rune sat on the deck next to his son
and watched the fight. He had lost control when Jag had been injured and nearly was done in for
the loss of focus. Had Lemon not stepped in… He brushed his hand over her calf as she began to
tend the four-inch gash splitting open his arm, ignoring the pain. He looked up at her, loving her
even more, hoping that the emotions showed on his face.
“One only calls Capt’n Mack stupid if one wishes not to take one’s next breath.” Gin held
Gator down as Jasper worked on healing the lad’s ribs. “Lucky ye are to not hold worse injury,
lad. What were ye thinking? I said he was mine.”
“I… A Boots fights his own battles.”
“Aye, a Boots fights his own battles, but this was not just yer battle. He boarded my boat
without permission with the intent to not only harm me, but also harm my crew, Torin and
Treasure Hunter. Ye know well as capt’n I cannot allow such a thing. Nae longer would I be
able to hold pride in my position, nae longer would others take me serious.”
“But… Papa ruthless he is. I…”
“Ye know well that a Boots fights face-to-face, one-on-one, and long have I considered
myself a Boots. I understand ye wished to aid me, but well I had it under control. Besides, never
does a Boots attack from behind.” Gin’s face softened. “Sink not to his level, lad; better ye are
than that.”
Tears fell down Gator’s face. “All my life I have tried to gain his notice, to show him I am
worthy as a Boots, that I am not a runt, and only does he notice when nae longer can he kick me
about. My father he is, I…”
“Then find a man you can look up to, one worthy of such regard.” Torin popped Gator on
the back of his head. He blew a kiss to Gin when Gin’s brows flew up at his actions. “And
methinks Capt’n Gin is a fine one to hold in such esteem.”
Gator sniffed. “Grandpapa is always speaking of Gin, how proud he is of him.”
“Red speaks so?” Gin could feel tears burn and was grateful when Torin plopped onto the
deck next to him so that their bodies pressed together. It had been extremely difficult seeing
Torin fighting, but his lover had done well only resplitting his lip and gaining a bruise upon his
cheek. Yeryl and Zasara he was proud of him, despite the fact his heart was still beating with
fright.
“Aye.” Gator sniffed again. “Might I stay upon yer boat? I will endeavor to not act with such
foolishness again.”
“Why would I want ye to leave? All fools we are upon occasion. Is that not so, Rune?”
“Aye.” Rune looked at his son. “Aye.” He looked at Gin then turned his gaze upon Mack
now standing over Rig who was on his back laid out flat.
Understanding what Rune meant, Gin nodded. “Aye.” He then turned his attention to the rest
of his crew. “Master Drum, Streaker, how do ye each fare?”
“Worse fights have I been in.” Master Drum touched the sensitive flesh beneath his eye and
winced. “Had we not been so few methinks we would have fared better, but had Jasper not kept
their numbers from accumulating worse we would have fared.”
“Aye, aye. Streaker, ye say naught of yer wounds.”
“Sorry, Capt’n. ‘Tis a fascinating scene before us.” Streaker motioned to Mack tying up Rig.
“Yer Capt’n Mack, he is not one I would ever wish to anger or meet within a darkened alley. Is
he truly upon our side?”
“Aye. Curious I am indeed what he does here. He was due to sail into port the day following
The Argyn Ot’s departure from Ganos. I know not why he set sail so soon after arrival.”
“Why he is here matters little, only that he is.” Streaker held out his hands to Jasper when
she motioned for them. His knuckles were scrapped and bruised from one of the other crewman’s
teeth. He was certain that nothing was broken, but a day or two it would be before he strummed
his guitar without pain.
“I am most thrilled that Uncle Mack found us when he did.” Gator’s arm was about his ribs.
Despite the bandage and the healing Jasper had done, it hurt a bit to breathe.
“As are we all, lad.” Gin stretched then winced, his shoulders sore, as were his ribs. “Jasper,
in need we are of finding those from yer old crew and see if they wish to join. And when we
reach Ganos, know I do that Capt’n Red will help finish filling any remaining posts.”
“Aye, lad. Our numbers are too few and rather would I not rely upon tricks to keep us out of
trouble.”
* * *
“The mutt kidnapped the runt, every right did I have to…” Rig struggled against the rope
Mack had tied him in. Fucking Mack had bespelled the rope so that it drained his magik, keeping
him from undoing his bonds, keeping him captive. Then to add insult, Mack had physically
thrown all of The Oil Rag’s crew back aboard before ordering them to turn sail to Ganos and
disbanding once anchor was dropped, that they were to explain the why of it to Red in full detail.
And the mutinous bastards would do it too.
“There is naught ye can say to justify,” Mack waved his hand to indicate their surroundings,
“this.”
“They took him…”
“Ye left me, old man. Ye left me on Thesop and gladly did I go with Capt’n Gin, gladly did I
become a member of his crew!” Gator climbed to his feet and started to rush his father, but Gin
grabbed him. “Let me…I would…”
“Allow him not such control,” Gin reminded him.
“Ye left him?” Mack growled. “On Thesop?”
“I did as Uncle Gator did with me.” Rig struggled again and lost his balance, tumbling onto
his side. “In need he was of learning…”
“Uncle Gator left ye because never did ye listen. Ye thought ye knew better. ‘Twas a
desperate last effort to teach ye, but it did naught. Still ye think yerself better because both sides
are pirate blood, always looking down upon those who are decent folks but cannot trace their
lines ten generations, like Uncle Gator or my lads: Gin and Rum.”
“Aye! Better we are and yet ye and Papa continue to sully that legacy with yer teaching our
ways to outsiders. ‘Tis even more disgusting that Papa gave The Argyn Ot to that bastard son…”
Mack grabbed Rig by the jerkin and pulled him to his feet, fist ready to strike. “Watch yer
tongue, brother. Or do I thrash ye further?”
“Grandpapa was worse, dirtying himself as he did when he dallied with Uncle Gator’s
mother and worse still, Uncle Suede’s mother. Neither should have been embraced, allowed as
pirates. And him,” Rig sneered as he looked at his son. “Drowned ye should have been as a babe
after I learned yer mother was the daughter of a merchant’s daughter.”
“Good!” Gator spat at his father’s feet. “Rather would I be the child of merchants than yers.”
“When I am free…”
Mack dragged his brother over the railing and held him dangling, feet kicking. “One more
word, ye bastard. Speak one more vile thing and gladly will I drop ye and laugh as ye drown.”
“Nae!” Rig went still, his face paling. The look in Mack’s light brown eyes said he would.
After several deep breaths, Mack pulled Rig back over the railing, tossing him onto the
deck. He had really wanted to drop him. Once more grabbing Rig, he tossed him over his
shoulder. “Excuse me while I dump this fool in Traveler’s hold otherwise I will kill him.”
“Do ye head off then?” Gin sat still while Lemon worked upon his injuries.
“Nae, lad.” The fierce scowl left Mack’s face as he looked at Gin, replaced by the beginning
of his usual crooked grin. “I will return shortly; I wish a quick word with ye. And with ye as
well, Gator.”
Rig glared at Gin and his crew when Mack turned to leave, offering threats of retribution
with his gaze. That is until he saw Jasper who wiggled her fingers in a little wave. With a violent
shout, he began to struggle and fell off his brother’s shoulder. He tried desperately to gain his
feet. “’Tis yer death I will have, wench!”
“One would think ye would call me bitch.” Jasper started drawing her sword.
“I will kill ye.”
Mack grabbed Rig and leapt across the distance to Traveler, dragging his brother behind
him, uncaring that he struggled.
“Release me. I would kill her. ‘Tis she who took my eye. ‘Tis she who maimed me. A traitor
ye are, Gator. A traitor for sailing with that woman and do I ever… Oi!”
Mack dangled Rig once more over the railing. “Do I drop ye, brother?”
“She…”
“With how well I know ye, I would believe well ye deserved to lose yer eye. Speak another
threat to Gator, to my lad, Gin, and I will end yer life.”
“Never do ye make a second threat, so I… Nae!” Rig screamed as he was dropped into the
sea. He frantically kicked, trying to keep his head above water, but could not do so, not when he
swallowed frigid seawater.
“Fuck!” Mack hissed and magikally fished his brother from the sea.
* * *
“Papa will be most displeased ye treated me so,” Rig whined as he struggled once more
against his ropes. As his coughing finally subsided and the last of the seawater expelled from his
lungs, his bravery returned. “I recall well the lecture ye received when last we fought. And this
time nearly did ye kill me.”
“I hold great doubts of his lecturing me. When I inform him of yer activities, ‘tis ye who
will earn his everlasting displeasure, but ‘tis not to Papa I take ye.”
“Where…?”
Mack left the hold cage, locking the door, another magik nulling spell infused into the lock
and cage bars in case his brother escaped the ropes. He looked at him sadly. “The last place ye
wish to be.”
“Nae!”
“Aye. Aldaen Island. In need ye are of a meeting with the old crone.”
“Ye fucking bastard!” Rig struggled and somehow managed to climb to his feet. He ran to
the door, throwing his body against the bars. “’Twill do nae good. Never will I feel differently
and never will I rest until that bitch suffers. The runt too! Lucky he will be if I kill him not. Then
mayhap I will gut ye for interfering, watch as ye bleed.”
Mack waved his hand and sent his brother flying back against the wall. “Come after me fine,
but touch the lad—never will yer body be found. And next time, I will not change my mind.”
* * *
“Papa,” Jag whispered after Mack left with Rig, “would he truly have let him drown?”
Rune pulled Lemon onto his lap after she finished healing Gin and held her close, his head
upon her breast. He needed her heart beneath his ear. “’Twas a close thing indeed.”
“But…”
He sat silent for a time, deciding how to explain life upon the sea to Jag. When Jag began to
fidget, he sighed deeply. “Times there are when life is ugly, son. Rigger Boots is a vile man and
most decent pirates suffer not the vile ones long. Rather would we not see a reoccurrence of The
Great Clash, nor would we see our freedoms curbed because the actions of those vile individuals
force decent land-dwellers to defend themselves.”
“I wish he had let him drown.” Gator violently brushed tears from his face.
“Now, lad, we need that not upon our conscience.” Mack appeared once more on deck, this
time keeping his feet. “Permission to board, Capt’n?”
Gin smiled. “Permission granted, Capt’n.”
Mack returned the smile and nodded his greeting. He walked over to his nephew and pulled
Gator into his arms, holding him, allowing him his strength. When Gator ceased trembling, Mack
took Gator’s shoulders in hand and studied the lad’s face. “All is well. Know ye that Rig is not
right within his head. The House of Boots loves and wants ye, yer family loves and wants ye.”
“Aye, ‘tis the truth,” Gin added.
Mack looked at Gin then back at Gator, pride for his nephew within his eyes. “Found
yerself a crew have ye then?”
“Aye. Capt’n Gin offered me a position and gladly did I take it.”
“Good. A finer capt’n ye could not serve. Save for me, of course.”
“Already have we stolen a fat merchant’s cargo. Silk and taqua and chests of gold debloos.”
“Oh ho! Yer Grandpapa will be most pleased to hear this, especially did ye bring him a
bottle of the taqua.” Mack threw his arm about his nephew’s shoulders and studied Gin, a wide
grin splitting his face. “So yer own boat ye have, Capt’n Gin. A beauty she is.”
“Aye, aye.” Gin stood and clasped wrists with Mack but was instead pulled into an
enthusiastic hug, Mack releasing his hold on Gator so that he could lift Gin off his feet. “Oi! The
ribs, bruised they are.”
Mack laughed and placed Gin back on his feet. He walked about, taking in the lines of the
vessel. “Papa will be most proud of ye, lad. I am most proud of ye. Where did ye get her?”
Gin blinked hearing words of praise and pride from Mack. Aye, he had always felt Mack
and Rum had held a closer bond, but to know Mack was proud… His chest puffed out.
He followed Mack forward when the older man looked at him, eyebrow raised. “I took her
from my vile cousin, Doshan ryn Ferth, who purchased her from Nova Blast. Doshan and his
mother stole all that should have belonged to my mother.”
Mack bit his tongue. He had been told by the van Wyrn a few hours after he set sail—his
crew had never been the suspicious lot, but he could no longer say such after she teleported onto
the boat as if ‘twere an everyday occurrence—to not say a word to Gin when he met up with
him, to not speak of what happened to Rum believing it was Rum’s place to inform his brother.
Though he was not certain he agreed.
“Well then, she is with her proper master now is she not?”
“Aye, she is. I know not what brought ye this way, but always will I be grateful.”
“Pft! Certain I am that ye would have succeeded in yer fight; Papa and I taught ye well. Do
ye have me leave a member or two of my crew with ye until ye return home?”
“I would mind it not, though word is soon to be sent to previous members of Mistress
Stone’s crew looking for those wishing to sail again.”
“Mistress Stone? Do ye speak of Rune’s mother, Capt’n Jasper Stone?”
“Aye. My uncle Rune is; Jasper was once married to my grandfather. Ye know of her then?”
“I do and long have I known that Rune was yer uncle.” He held up his hand, stopping Gin
from speaking. “He knew how ye felt towards yer families and asked me to keep the secret until
he was ready to tell ye. As for Jasper, Rig claims she took his eye, that ‘twas the loss of his eye
that ruined his life. ‘Tis a lie, always has he been the vile bully and much conceited. Many
pirates there are with one eye and plenty of men and women will have them gladly, so his
bitterness is his own. A simple scar on his hand would have caused the same reaction.”
“She meant him nae harm. ‘Tis her word and I believe it.”
“In truth, I wish she had meant it. A menace he is and…” Mack again held up a hand, but
this time ceasing his own words. “I returned aboard yer boat, lad, to offer ye congratulations not
pass judgments.”
“Thank ye, I…” Gin looked over as Torin’s hand slipped into his. Seeing him, his face filled
with love. “Is all well?”
“I came to ask the same of you, pirate.”
“Aye, all is well.” He picked up Torin’s hand and kissed it, pressed it against his cheek. He
pulled him closer before returning his attention to Mack. “I would introduce my treasure, Torin
eth Welex. Torin, I present Capt’n Mack Boots.”
“Yer… Yer our Rum’s friend! He spoke fondly of ye when he received yer letter.” Yeryl
and Zasara, no wonder the van Wyrn wished him not to speak of Rum to Gin or to tell Rum what
he was about; it was between the two brothers and obviously Torin. He could only hope that
Rune could handle the explosion since he, himself, would not be there.
Mack pushed away the troubling thoughts and studied the portly man before him, pleased
with the way the two men looked upon each other. He offered his hand to clasp wrists. “’Tis a
pleasure to meet ye. The finest of days ‘tis when a pirate finds his treasure. Oi! Why nae cuffs
upon yer wrists?”
“Gin and I are waiting until we reach Ganos.” He looked at Gin. “I thought to ask Captain
Red to marry us.”
“Papa would be most tickled by such a gesture.” Mack clapped both Gin and Torin upon the
shoulder, a broad smile upon his face. “Now, ‘twould be best did I leave ye.”
“Would ye care to break the morning fast with us? Rig’s attack delayed the meal. We have a
fine cook aboard, ‘tis amazing what Streaker can do with a habbas pepper.”
Mack’s hand pressed against his heart, his face alight with pleasure. “Oh, ye know the way
to tempt a man.” He looked at his boat for a moment, his mouth and eyes moving as if he talked
to himself. “Methinks I have an hour or two to spare. Master Chink!” he yelled. “I dine with
Capt’n Gin and his crew this morn. Be ready to set sail to the Far Southern Isles when I return.”
“Aye, Capt’n.”
* * *
After Mack sailed away, a prized bottle of taqua in his hands—Treasure Hunter’s crew most
thankful for his assist—and the excitement of the morning settled down, Streaker approached
Gin, feeling apprehensive. He was uncertain exactly why he had done it, though his guilt was a
driving force. Pirates should not give up treasure, even if ‘tis out of loyalty.
“Capt’n,” Streaker spoke low as Gin adjusted the wheel, “might I have a word?”
“Aye, of course.” Gin looked at the other man and grew concerned by the unease emanating
off him. “What bothers ye so?”
“Last eve, before we set sail, returned I did to The Mistress Grey and, uh, liberated the
drambu.”
“What?!” Gin’s brows flew upward, the distant sound of debloos clinking filling his ears.
“’Twas not right, that everyone gave up such treasure for me.”
“What of the locator spell?”
“I removed it. Never have they changed it, arrogant in their belief that none would dare steal
from them.”
“Ye took all twelve bottles?”
“Aye, though I left one with that old man, the one who ye dealt with when capturing the first
mate, with instructions to sell it and split the funds with the rest of the crew. Told him I did, that
did he break his word, that a curse would be placed upon him, one so horrible that never could he
live another moment.”
“Which was?”
“His prick would shrivel and fall off.”
Gin laughed. “Is it true?”
“Nae, but it had the desired effect. Capt’n… I am uncertain if I want aught to do with the
gains from selling the bottles, but…I could not ask the same of ye.”
“Family we are, my friend, ‘tis what we do.”
“Still, ‘twas not right. The bottles, they are within my cabin, I will bring them to ye this
eve.” He turned and started away.
“Streaker.”
“Aye, Capt’n?”
“Mayhap were ye to think that ‘tis part of the vengeance against them, ‘twould ease yer
discomfort with taking the drambu. Do they not deserve to have such treasure lifted? ‘Twill not
bring yer mother back, but it hurts them none the less.”
“Mayhap, Capt’n. I will try.”
It had been three days since leaving the island of Gylway, their vengeance upon the captain
and first mate of The Mistress Grey complete; two days since Rig attacked and was carted off to
parts unknown by Mack. They were drawing ever closer to Ganos and did the weather hold, they
would make landfall in another week to ten days depending did they stop—and there were
several islands that he would mind not showing to Torin.
Gin sat once more upon the steps leading up to the quarterdeck watching Torin and Lemon
continue with their fencing lessons. Jag now joined in the lessons wanting to better his skill with
a sword—the wound upon his cheek though healing well would leave a scar. Jasper kept
reminding Torin to not become overconfident. He could see her concern. Torin was indeed a
natural with a sword, his ability to Read aiding that very talent causing him to take unnecessary
risks.
Feeling a slight shift in the wind, Gin stood, leaving Torin to continue with his fencing
lesson. Gin entered his quarters, a pleased smile upon his face. Torin indeed made fine progress.
And if he lost weight from the exertion, he would just have to make certain Torin ate more.
Walking over to his desk, needing to plot another possible course did a storm arise, he
stumbled over Torin’s case. In the time they had been at sea, he had yet to open it, to review the
financial papers within. He knew that Torin was figuring out which of Doshan’s debts to pay—
having already paid several while they were docked at Gylway—but the case was always closed
each time he would seek Torin out. And usually moments after finding him, the case was
forgotten in favor of Torin fucking him.
He grew hard just thinking about it.
Taking a deep breath, pushing his lust aside, he picked up the case and placed it on the desk.
He was quite curious what sort of debts Doshan had accrued. He was also curious what holdings
belonged to the ryn Ferths and now to him. It was odd that he suddenly cared. In all these years
since his parents’ deaths, since he and Rum had been chased from the manor, he had wanted
nothing of the ryn Ferths, from the ryn Ferths, and yet now he wanted what was rightfully his.
He sat staring at Torin’s case for several minutes, wondering if he should wait for Torin,
before pressing an ornate golden button, releasing the latch. The case opened with a snap and
inside tumbled over…
A marriage cuff.
It was a simple thing, not much ornamentation upon the wide and open gold band, though no
less fine in quality. In fact, it appeared to be masterfully crafted. His hand shook as he picked it
up and shook harder seeing the inscription upon the inside.
Our Hearts are One. And One the Same.
* * *
Torin avoided Lemon’s thrusting sword, but an overwhelming sense of heartbreak broke his
concentration and his own clattered to the deck. He looked about and found no sign of Gin.
“Oi! More care with the sword, lad,” Jasper admonished. “Always should ye treat it with
respect.”
“Gin…” He absently picked up the sword and slipped it into the scabbard. “Where did he
go?”
“To his cabin I believe. The wind has shifted.”
Without a word, Torin left and rushed across the deck to the captain’s quarters. Inside he
found Gin staring out the large bank of windows at the rear of the cabin at the boat’s frothy
wake, hands clasped behind his back. He closed the door quietly and started to cross over to Gin
when he saw his case open on the desk, his marriage cuff on display.
He walked over to the desk and picked up the gold band. He could feel Gin’s essence upon
it. There was no need to Read the situation. He knew how Gin felt about his marriage to Alara,
the jealousy that simmered just under the surface. He could understand in some respect. To know
that the one you loved and desired above all others had desired and loved another could be heart
breaking.
He shook his head. He knew better than to hold anger towards Gin for invading his privacy.
The man was a pirate after all; there would be no privacy. That the papers within his case for the
most part belonged to Gin as the ryn Ferth giving him leave to see them whenever he desired.
Turning around, Torin left the cabin, taking the marriage cuff with him, and traveled down
to the hold where most of his belongings were stored. There he opened one of the boxes
containing the few things of Alara’s he had kept and stored the cuff within. Did he do this to
keep his marriage cuff from Gin’s hands? No. This he did because he knew it was time. He need
not have the cuff near at hand, within easy sight, easy reach, anymore. He should have done this
the other day when he started working upon paying Doshan’s debts.
He had been startled to see it there in his case. Not that he forgot that it was there, how could
he forget such a thing. But looking at the cuff, he realized he needed not the comfort of it near
any longer. He had realized that he would always remember Alara, love her; he would not forget
her and his feelings just because he no longer had the cuff upon him. Memories of her were
burned within his mind and heart. Granted, that he felt she had given her blessing that first day in
the captain’s quarters helped much in this decision.
He looked at the box, gave it a pat. “This is for the best, ‘Lara. With Gin I am now, ‘tis
where I wish to be, even if he is a man most complicated. Know I do you understand. I know you
would want me to move on as I would want the same for you.”
Turning away, he jumped back startled. A large man with eyes full silver stood before him.
“I know you.”
* * *
The Everdaimon waved off the spirit as he appeared in the hold of the boat—she sure was a
pushy soul. Veshan focused his attention on the portly blond man speaking to his deceased wife
and felt a surge of sympathy. Except the young man was explaining to his wife that he had found
love with another. He waved off the spirit again, allowing Torin to finish his words, thinking the
spirit needed to hear them, though she knew well her husband’s feelings and approved.
Veshan felt the need to apologize for startling Torin once he turned about, righting his eyes
to ease the impact of his presence, but the young man seemed to quickly recover.
“I know you.”
“Then your mother, she spoke of me?” The High Guardian moved closer to the mortal who
looked very much like his mother and her mother all the way to his Mother of Mothers. Torin
was the second eth Welex male to be born, his great grandfather thrice over the only other. And
in all that time, always had the eth Welexes carried those yiska eyes.
“If you are Veshan, Master of The Everafter, then yes, she did.” Torin grabbed hold of a
crate as the rocking of the boat caused his knees to dip. “But if you are Veshan, should you not
have known she spoke to me?”
“I could, and I can…did I pry within your mind. Those of the eth Welex line have a natural
block upon their thoughts and so an effort I would have to put out and rather would I not intrude
without cause. Your Mother of Mothers hated such things.” He smiled and pointed, his finger
wiggling at the narrowed gaze Torin offered him. “Ah, and I see you would not care for such a
thing either. Quite emphatic Nalee was about the matter, claiming that all deserved to hold a
secret or two.”
“I would agree with such a thing. Might I ask why you visit me?”
“A problem is there with a visit from your Father of Fathers?”
“No, of course not, but Mother said that your visits, always did they have reason, and most
oft in regards to life choices.”
“And you are also anxious to return to your pirate. I understand. Love’s first blush, ‘tis a
most potent thing. You should inform him of your feelings.” He laughed. “No, I did not pry, ‘tis
easy enough to see the love for him upon your face.” He turned to the side and glared at the
spirit. “’Tis quite enough. If you keep interrupting…” He turned about and offered a second
newly arrived spirit behind him the same glare. “I will tell him.”
“Is there aught wrong?”
“Oh no, ‘tis only your wife and mother being persistent.”
“Mother and Alara are with you?” Torin looked, squinted, trying to see, but there was
nothing. But then he felt a brush of a hand upon his cheek and then what felt like a kiss upon the
other cheek. He could not help but whisper, “I miss you both.”
“They wish me to tell you that they are most pleased that you found Gin.” He again waved
them off. “Off with you to The Everafter and allow me to speak with Torin.”
Torin felt the various caresses once more upon his cheeks and pressed his hands over the
sensations wishing to add them to his memories. With a slow and deep breath dragged in and
released, he lowered his hands and looked expectantly at Veshan—he could still feel Gin’s pain.
“Swift I will be then. This path you are upon…leads it does to much danger, but ‘tis the
proper path if all you wish for is to come to pass.”
“What mean you?”
“Exactly that and I would ask that you pay close attention to Jasper Stone’s lessons.
Whatever you do, do not lose focus.”
“Am I in danger?”
“Yes, in grave danger, but if you do not walk this path…” Veshan walked up to Torin and
placed his hand upon his shoulder. “I cannot stop what may or may not come, but I would have
you remember, do you see a golden door, do not pass through it, resist the urge that attempts to
overwhelm your very soul.”
“I… Are you certain there is naught I can do to avoid this danger.”
“No. Just remember my words because those on the outside of that door need you most.” A
bit of magik sparked from his hand and then he disappeared.
* * *
Torin shook his head uncertain what just happened. Had the Master of The Everafter truly
visited him? Feeling the pirate’s pain once more, he made his way back up to the cabin and
found Gin still staring out the bank of windows.
“You looked within the case, so I must assume you wish to learn about the ryn Ferth
Empire.” Torin sat behind the desk and put on a pair of reading glasses before pulling out a stack
of parchment. “Do join me and I will explain the myriad of numbers.”
“That is all ye have to say?”
“Is there more to say?”
Gin spun around, a mixture of outrage and pain wreathed his face. “Ye…”
“Yes, I kept my marriage cuff at hand, wishing to hold that part of my life close. Could I
have continued to wear it after my wife’s death, I would have. Mayhap she ceased to live, but it
meant not that I ceased feeling married.”
“And still would ye be wearing it?”
“No.” Torin looked upon his lover, kept from smiling at the blank look upon his handsome
face. “I loved my wife, but ready am I now to move forward and seek new.”
“But…”
“I am yours, pirate. With our time together one would think that already would you have
realized such. Have you not claimed me as treasure? Said you loved me? Have we not agreed to
marry once we reach Ganos?”
“Aye.”
“Then why the worry?” He motioned to a chair. “Sit so that I might explain your new found
wealth and the responsibilities that go with it.”
“What of yer wife’s cuff, where is it?”
“Alara’s cuff is with her.”
Gin rushed over to the desk and with hands pressed flat against the surface, leaned his
weight forward, needing to know. Pain pinched his expression, his voice. “What of the
inscription?”
Torin finally smiled. “’Twas her idea. There was one similar upon the inside of hers.” He
could still feel Gin’s anguish and so sobered. “I loved my wife, Gin. Would you have me toss
aside such feelings just because she crossed to The Everafter? Had you been in my position, your
spouse dying, would you have just put aside your cuff? Or would you have kept it near you?”
“I…” He looked away ashamed. “I meant not to pry. Only did I wish…”
“Well aware I am of that and I feel no anger. You avoid my question.”
“Never would I have parted with the cuff. ‘Tis unfair, that upon death, a marriage cuff
unlatches—it should not open until one is ready for it to. But…”
“All is well, pirate. I put the cuff away, ‘twas time.”
“Nae! All is not well. Ye…”
Torin removed his glasses, placing them on top of the stack of documents, and leaned his
forearms on the desk. Studying Gin, he opened himself and Read the situation, needing the aid.
This was one of Gin’s complications. “I put the cuff away, pirate. Why do you worry so?”
“It matters little where the cuff is, ye still love her.”
“And always will I, but that means not I am incapable of caring for or loving another.”
“I want ye to love me,” it was a whisper, “as I love ye.”
Torin rose from his chair and walked around the desk until he stood before Gin who had
turned with his approach. Gin tried to take a step back, but pressed up against the desk instead,
hands gripping the edge. Torin took Gin’s face in his hands and placed soft, slow moving kisses
across his lips until he began to tremble.
“You think I cannot love you both?”
Gin shook his head, his heart twisting in his chest.
He dropped a hand and traced a finger over the thick ridge of Gin’s erection. “But here I am
touching you.” He kissed him. “Kissing you.” Pressed into him. “Wanting you. Or do you claim
all I do to be only sex when never did I take a lover after Alara’s passing? Until you? Already
have I spoken to you how Alara was my first. Do you think me the sort who finds sex frivolous?
Do you think I take for granted the time we spend talking, or just enjoying having each other
near, that it means little to me?”
“Nae, I…” He could barely breathe let alone think of all the words he had thought of while
staring out the window, all the words he had wanted to say to Torin. “I could not love another
did I lose my spouse, my treasure.”
“Then you say ‘tis impossible for a man or woman to find another treasure?”
“I could not.”
“Always have I claimed an abiding love for my wife, so why did you take me? Or did you
think I spoke such words because I was angry with being kidnapped?” Torin ceased what he was
doing and rested his forehead against Gin’s shoulder. “I doubt that did your husband cross to The
Everafter that he would wish you to be alone for the rest of your life, or that you would wish the
same for your husband were it you who passed. ‘Tis not how love works, to wish a spouse, a
lover, to only want you, to only be with you in such a situation. Were I the one to have died, I
would have wished for Alara to not shut herself away. I would have wanted her to keep her heart
open to the possibility of finding love and companionship once more. I know she would feel the
same.”
A choked sound escaped Gin’s throat at the thought of Torin passing to The Everafter. His
arms flew around Torin and held him close, his breathing harsh as he attempted to keep his
emotions from consuming him. He could never stand it, to lose Torin. He was certain did that
happen he would wish to follow, hating the very idea of surviving such an event, of being alone,
of never seeing Torin again, hearing his voice, feeling him next to him each morning and night.
It was why he was having trouble understanding how Torin could move on from losing his wife.
“How did ye remain amongst the living?” Tears clogged his throat.
“’Twas not easy.” He returned the embrace. “’Twas the need to make Doshan pay which
kept my heart beating, drove me to wake each morning. Gin, what would you have done were I
still married?”
“Already have I answered this. There is naught I could have done. I am not the sort of man
who would have asked ye to break yer vows, nor are ye the sort of man to betray his word to
another.”
“And what would you have done?”
“Been alone.”
Torin stepped back and forced Gin to look at him. “’Tis a foolish thing, pirate, to say such.
How do you know that never would you have found another to love?”
“’Tis not foolish; ‘tis the way of it for a pirate. We marry none but our treasures. Capt’n
Mack, a man of fifty and four he is with many children claimed and yet never has he married one
of their mothers; they were not treasure. Nor have any of his other lovers been treasure. ‘Twas
the same for Capt’n Red, many children, but only was Capt’n Boots’ mother, Mamé B, his
treasure and ‘twas not until recently did they reunite and marry.”
“And yet here I am, already having had one treasure, now given a second treasure.” Torin
cleared his throat and then affected the pirate parlance, “Would it help ye to finally realize the
truth of my words were I to speak so when I claim ye treasure?”
Gin’s eyes widened, then he smiled. “Ye do that better than Rum, and many years has he
had to learn it.”
“Thank ye, but it changes not my claim. Ye are treasure to me, Gin Py.” He caressed his
lover’s face, the corner of his lips curling upwards, then reached down and grasped Gin’s right
wrist, holding it so their wrists touched. He covered their wrists with his left hand, magik
glowing bright. He had been leading this courtship, he may as well lead the promise. “’Tis my
word I give ye, that dear ye are held to me, my treasure, my lover. ‘Tis my promise that only will
there be ye for me as long as I draw breath.”
“Ye need not…”
“Aye, I do.” He kept his hand held over their wrists, forging the spell, feeding it, as it
created the bands of his promise. “A man in need ye are of being shown his worth.” Torin
coughed, the guttural rumblings tickling his throat. “Treasure you are to me. Were you not, I
would have found way off this boat long before. I want to be here with you and no plans do I
have to change my mind.”
Gin could not take his eyes off their joined wrists. “Torin…”
“The moment we make port in Ganos, your Capt’n Red will marry us, and not a minute
later.” Torin removed his hand from their wrists, the spell complete, and surrounding each wrist
was a filigree silverin band about an inch wide. “Mine you are, Gin Py, and I dare anyone to take
you from me or me from you.”
A tear slipped down Gin’s cheek. “I know that only have we been together a short time, but
always have I known…”
Torin kissed him. “Times there were that Alara spoke of seeing me with a man, ‘twas mostly
shared fantasies, but in those fantasies, ‘twas you I envisioned myself with, never another.”
Gin wrapped his arms once more about Torin, held him close. “I love ye.”
“And I love you, pirate. Always.”
Gin rushed from his cabin, his open, hastily donned coat flapping behind him as he ran, his
breath forming on the morning air. He could swear he felt his twin nearby, which should not be
the case as he had yet to reestablish a link with Rum. As he reached the railing, the call went out.
“Four lines emblazoned!” Master Drum yelled, but then looked at the others, his face
drained of color.
An unnatural silence descended causing Gin to lower his spyglass and look about him,
curious why no one offered who it might be. Both Rune’s and Jasper’s faces were as pale if not
more so than Master Drum’s. “Is aught wrong?”
Rune nigh leapt to the rail in a single bound and grabbed the spyglass from Gin and focused
on the approaching boat.
“Rune, is it…?” Jasper could not make herself finish the question.
“Aye, Ma, ‘tis Graceful. But surely…”
Heart in her throat, she was at the rail in a flutter of shadows, her own spyglass in hand and
raised. “Yeryl and Zasara! ‘Tis she. But…”
“What goes on?” Gin reached to take his spyglass back from Rune. The feeling grew
stronger. Rum was near. “Who is Graceful?”
“Not who, but what.” Rune reluctantly released the glass. “’Tis yer father’s boat, ‘tis
Graceful that approaches. But… ‘Tis not possible, she… Was she not destroyed when Eltin and
Tarna perished?” Would he not have known if his brother was still amongst the living?
Torin cleared his throat. He had followed Gin from the cabin at a more sedate pace and now
stood next to him. “Might I take a look?”
Gin offered the spyglass to Torin, though uncertain as to why he would wish a look.
“Torin…”
Torin studied the boat. “She is one of Doshan’s boats, The Sweet Swirling Abyss. The one he
had sent out with Heston, Semban and Corden on some undocumented mission, though she
seems in much better repair since last I saw her, and of course then she carried the ryn Ferth
mark upon her sails.”
“Nae, lad, ‘tis Graceful. Know I would my brother’s boat. Ma…ye agree, aye?”
“Aye, ‘tis indeed Graceful. Nae other boat was there like her, commissioned as she was for
Eltin by my father.”
“Cease!” Gin raised his voice to keep anyone else from speaking. “Torin, why do ye say
‘twas one of Doshan’s?”
“I recall her from the times I was at the ryn Ferth quay. Always did Doshan smirk when…”
Torin summoned a stack of parchment to his hand and quickly looked through them. “Oh my.
Indeed both Rune and Aunt Jasper are correct, ‘tis Graceful. Which makes sense considering…”
“Considering what?”
“I swear I knew not that she was your father’s boat.”
“I believe ye. Nae, need is there to be so upset.”
With a shake of his head, Torin sent the stack of parchment back with the same magik he
called it with and then rubbed his hands over his face. “I just wished to leave Lynda and… I
figured that Ellis had sent word and ‘twas why you had come to the ryn Ferth manor. I should
have made mention when first I was brought aboard, but… I had sent along the information to
Ellis and… Fuck!”
Gin pressed a hand to Torin’s cheek, concerned. “What is it, love?”
“During one of my forays into Doshan’s hidden files, discovered I did that the sunward
twirl, the emblem of the boat believed to have sunk the boat your parents were upon, belonged to
Perta’s husband and then upon his death to Perta and Doshan.”
Rune roared and reached for Torin, but was knocked away by Gin. “Do ye not understand,
lad. Torin knew this entire time that Doshan killed yer parents and he said naught of it.”
“Ye heard what he said, he thought Rum had sent word. Do ye think to touch him again in
such a manner…”
“No, Gin. Correct Rune is. I should have mentioned it, especially with our reviewing the
financial papers last eve. My deepest apologies, I…”
Gin took a deep breath, shoved Rune away when he once again surged forward. “I meant
what I said Rune. Do ye attempt to harm my treasure, I will gut ye.”
“He knew and he said naught! Already could Doshan be dead.”
“Leave him be, son.” Jasper stepped in front of Rune, a hand upon his chest. It was never
smart to threaten another pirate’s treasure. Were Rune thinking, he would know that.
“Gin…” Torin whispered, guilt and shame filling him. “I am most sorry. I should have
known well that you knew not of this, for surely you would have done more than set fire to the
boats were you aware.”
“Aye, ‘twould have been my sword running him through had I known. I should have
known…” He ran his hand over his hair, pulled. He refused to hold anger with Torin. Had he not
kidnapped him with little finesse? Had he been Torin, he would have kept such information
secret, especially after being held in a hold cage overnight. “I would have known had I not cut
my connection with Rum.”
“She pulls alongside us!” Gator yelled, interrupting the discussion below; he stood at the
wheel and was glad to be out of the way.
Everyone turned and there standing on the railing of the other boat was Rum, braid hanging
over his shoulder, looking ready to fight. Rum leapt across the distance with ease landing in a
crouch upon Treasure Hunter’s railing.
“What do ye do here, Rum?”
“Hide all you want, brother mine, ‘twill not stop me from finding you and thrashing you
well,” Rum growled, his Lyndian brogue deep and thick.
The Unwritten
—Not all individuals are gifted with the ability to magikally move their body from one location
to another. ‘Tis always best if one is in possession of such ability not to rub it in the face of one
who is not.
—‘Tis considered rude to teleport into, out of, or around an individual’s home without express
permission from the owner. And if said owner is not in possession of the ability to teleport, then
‘tis best to not mention it at all—no one likes a show-off.
—‘Tis unwise to teleport around a moving boat or carriage. One may end up floating in the water
as the boat sails away, or sitting on one’s ass in the middle of the road choking on dust as the
carriage drives away.
—With the average ability to teleport, ‘tis impossible to do so over large bodies of water. There
is none who know the why of it, but ‘tis the way of it. If one does have the ability, try not to
show off too often.
—‘Tis always better to walk or run, if at all possible, as one must have exercise on occasion. Just
because one can teleport, means not one should teleport. Besides, it does no good to be lazy and
a show-off.
—If an individual finds oneself in a mood most rotten or with temper boiling, ‘tis always safest
not to teleport, for one never knows where one will land or if one will be able to return in such an
instance.
The Unwritten
—One steals not the neighbor’s treasure. But, if said neighbor offers nae spells or other strong
methods of protection around said treasure, nae one but the now previous owner shall hold the
blame. This includes all treasure left unguarded, neighbor or not, for if a pirate guards not his
treasure, deserves he does to have it taken.
—Nae honor is there in attacking another pirate upon shore, always are battles fought upon the
sea. Unless, one is routing unwanted curs from said shores.
—‘Tis not done to shanghai another pirate with the sole purpose of stranding him or her upon a
deserted island. Nae honor is there within this method, especially when ‘tis done without leaving
a way for said pirate to end his or her existence when starvation is eminent.
—One does not board another’s boat without permission from the captain to board. If one does
dare such a thing, ‘tis tantamount to an attack and the captain is within his or her rights to go on
the offensive.
—When one does have permission to board another’s boat, ‘tis always done to greet the captain
before the conducting of any business. If one does not greet the captain, the visitor should hold
nae surprise when he or she becomes uninvited or tossed overboard.
—When playing a game of cards, ‘tis expected of everyone to cheat, for the one who cheats best
and most often wins the game. But one must always remember the Golden Rule: Cheat if ye will,
but never get caught doing so; it not only ruins the game, nae one wants to play with a cheater.
—Never is one to betray one’s crewmates.
—Aye, exceptions there are to every rule, but ‘tis a rare occurrence, and a good reason there
better be for it.
The Adventure Ends With:
BROTHERS BOOK THREE
“Do you not restore the connection ‘twixt us, I will force it open and little would you care
for such an event.”
Gin snorted. “Could ye and already would ye have.”
“I now have physical contact, brother mine.” Rum grinned as he squeezed his hands, magik
pulsing. “You think me weak, but I am far from. ‘Tis one of the few reasons I am grateful you
abandoned me; I learned my own strength.” More magik pulsed.
“Mayhap I should thrash ye and see where that leads us.”
Rum laughed. “Once more you act rash and foolish. ‘Tis a new side of you I am seeing.”
“Ye find humor in this?”
“I find humor in you. The cuffs, they are far from humorous. It nigh ripped my heart from
my chest to view them…and the blood that stains them.” He watched his brother’s face pale and
was released. He caught his brother as he stumbled backwards. “Aye, blood stains them. Open
the connection, Gin.”
“I…” He pulled away from Rum and rushed to the railing, vomiting all his stomach
contents. Learning that his parents’ marriage cuffs were not with his parents had been bad, but
knowing that their blood stained them… He had never known that his small dream of his parents
being marooned on a beach somewhere had still existed. “’Tis…”
“I know well what you feel, my twin, even without the connection. I know not what I would
have done had Suede not been there.” Rum leaned against the railing. “Return to Torin and
gladly will I show you the cuffs come morn.”
“Nae! Ye…”
“In need you are of being with your new husband, not staring at the past.” He looked up and
spotted his first mate at the wheel. “Master Knot, pull alongside my brother’s boat. In need he is
of returning.”
“Aye, Capt’n. Though mayhap next time he will be courteous enough to ask permission to
board. Lucky he was to not to be met as hostile.”
“Only was he returning the favor as never did I ask permission to board his boat.”
Gin grabbed Rum once more. “I wish to view the cuffs. I am not so…”
“Open the connection.”
“Bastard! ‘Tis blackmail.”
“Then you enjoy the empty space within your mind where once I was?”
“Grown men we are, we need not always…”
Rum smacked the back of Gin’s head and Gin released him out of surprise. “Brothers we
are, you fool. There is naught wrong with such a bond and lucky we are to have it.”
# # #
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