Malta had come to the table with the dignity and composure of a Trader. Wintrow had been proud of his younger sister. She had presented her proposal in careful phrases, and at every point, had enumerated the advantages it would bring to both Kennit and the Satrap. Recognition of Kennit as King of the Pirate Isles, a sovereign state. An end to Jamaillian slave raiders in the Pirate Isles. No more Chalcedean “patrol” boats in the Pirate Isles. Captain Red and Sorcor had grinned with triumph. They had been more subdued as she went on to list what the Satrap wanted in exchange: his safe return to Jamaillia City, escorted by Kennit’s fleet, with the assurance that the Pirate Isles recognized and supported him as the Satrap of Jamaillia. In the future, Kennit would pledge safe passage for Jamaillian-flagged ships through the Inside Passage, and would himself subdue any “independent” pirates who ignored the agreement.

At first, Kennit had waxed enthusiastic. He had sent Wintrow for parchment, pen and ink, and instructed him to write it up. That had been straightforward, save for the matter of the proper forms for referring to the Satrap. That alone took nearly half a page of “His Most Glorious and Magnificent Honor” and the like. Kennit had leaped into the spirit of it, dictating that the document refer to him as “The Daring and Undefeated Pirate Captain Kennit, King of the Pirate Isles by Virtue of his Boldness and Cunning.” Wintrow had seen the dancing merriment in Captain Red’s eyes as well as the profound pride in Sorcor’s as he transcribed these illustrious titles. He had thought that would bring a swift end to the negotiations, but Kennit had only begun.

Swiftly and surely, he began to tack other provisions on to the pact. The fabulously powerful Satrap of Jamaillia could not expect him, king of scattered towns of outcasts, to patrol these waters against miscreant pirates with no remuneration. Whatever agreement Jamaillia had had with the Chalcedean patrol vessels would be passed on to Kennit and his “patrol” ships. How could the Satrap object? It would not mean any more coins out of his coffers; they would simply be going to a different set of ships. And, of course, in reciprocal courtesy, ships bearing Kennit’s raven flag would pass unmolested in Jamaillian waters on their journeys to points south. As for selective pardons to criminals who had fled to the Pirate Isles, why, that was all much too confusing. A blanket pardon of every one of Kennit’s subjects would be much easier to manage.

When the Satrap objected that these “Tattooed” would be indistinguishable from the lawful slaves of Jamaillia, Kennit had appeared to take him seriously. He had gravely proposed that the Satrap, by edict, have all free folk of Jamaillia tattooed with a special mark that would proclaim them free subjects of the Satrap. Captain Red had had a coughing fit to cover his laughter, but the Satrap had flushed scarlet. Standing, he had declared himself irrevocably offended. The Satrap had stalked to the door and out of it. Malta had followed him miserably. Her humiliated stare betrayed that she realized what the Satrap did not. There was noplace for him to go. This “negotiation” was to become little more than a documented robbery. While they waited out the Satrap’s temper tantrum, Kennit ordered Wintrow to pour the finest spirits for his lieutenants, and sent him to fetch samples of the cheeses and exotic preserved fruits he had captured on his most recent foray. They were relaxed and warm and comfortable when the Satrap returned followed by a defeated Malta. They resumed their seats at the table. In a chill voice, the Satrap offered Kennit one hundred signed pardons that he could distribute as he saw fit.

“A thousand,” Kennit countered as coolly. He leaned back in his chair. “And you would give me the authorization to issue others as needed.”

“Done,” the Satrap snapped sulkily as Malta’s mouth opened in angry protest. The young ruler glared at her. “It costs me nothing. Why should not I give it to him?”

That set the tone for all that followed. Malta’s efforts to give ground grudgingly were undermined by the Satrap’s obvious despair and ultimately his boredom with the whole process. Jamaillian ships that stopped for water, supplies or trade in the Pirate Isles would pay a fee to Kennit. Jamaillia would not interfere with Kennit’s right to regulate trade and ships passing through the Pirate Isles. Sorcor’s triumph was that persons condemned to be sold on the block for debt would be offered the option of exile to the Pirate Isles. Captain Red inserted that individual actors would no longer be responsible for the debts of a troupe. From there, the political significance of Kennit’s demands dwindled to mere piracy of privilege. A suite of rooms in the Satrap’s palace would be reserved exclusively for Kennit in the event that he ever chose to visit Jamaillia City. Any serpent sighted in Inside Passage waters was to be considered Kennit’s property and left unmolested. Kennit was always to be referred to as the Merciful and Just King Kennit of the Pirate Isles. The negotiations flagged only when Kennit’s inventiveness began to fail him.