Wintrow lifted a hand swiftly to his cheek, then dropped it self-consciously. He gave Brashen an uneasy glance as Amber stared at him. It was only broken when Jek burst from the shadows to seize Amber in a fierce hug. “Aow, you look worse than I do!” she greeted her as Wintrow hastily turned away. Brashen felt mixed emotions as he trod the once-familiar deck. Kennit, he observed, had run a tight ship. The man had been a good captain. Then he shook his head, incredulous that such a thought could even come to him.

The chart room was crowded. Etta was there, as was Malta’s Rain Wilder. Reyn seemed to be determined to be unaware of the attention he attracted. The Satrap was dramatically aware of his own importance. Two men, one broad and stocky, the other flamboyantly clad, would be the other pirate captains. The stocky man’s eyes were reddened with weeping. His red-headed comrade wore a grave demeanor. They knew of Kennit’s death, then.

The captured Jamaillian nobles lined the walls, a bedraggled and weary group. Several looked on the verge of collapse. Wintrow shut the door behind him and gave them a moment to discard wet cloaks. He gestured to seats around the crowded table, while he remained standing. The heavyset pirate captain was pouring brandy for all of them. Brashen was glad of the warming stuff. He recognized the snifter. Ephron Vestrit had reserved it for special occasions. Althea hastened to a seat beside him. She leaned close to him and whispered hurriedly, “The best of news! When Reyn and the dragon left Bingtown, my mother and Keffria and Selden were all there and in good health.” She took a breath. “I fear that is the only good news, however. My family is beggared, my home a vandalized shell, our holdings sacked. Now more than ever, a liveship would… I’ll tell you later,” she amended hastily as she realized all other conversation at the table had ceased. All turned to Wintrow at the head of the table.

Wintrow drew a breath and spoke decisively. “I know none of you are easy at being called away from your ships. It was necessary. Kennit’s death has forced a number of decisions on us. I’m going to tell you what I’ve decided, and let each of you plot your course accordingly.”

There it was, Brashen thought: the assumption of command and authority was in his voice. He half expected someone to challenge it, but all were silent. The other pirate captains had already deferred to him. Everyone waited respectfully. Only the Satrap’s satisfied smile let everyone know he already knew what was to come.

Wintrow took a breath. “The treaty, so painstakingly hammered out by King Kennit of the Pirate Isles and the Lord High Magnadon Satrap Cosgo of Jamaillia has been acknowledged and approved by these nobles.”

A shocked silence followed these words. Then both Captain Red and Sorcor leapt to their feet with cries of triumph. Etta lifted her eyes to Wintrow’s face. “You’ve done it?” she asked in wonder. “You’ve finished what he promised us?”

“I’ve made a start on it,” Wintrow replied grimly. “My sister Malta has been instrumental in persuading them to this wise action. But there remains much to do.”

At a look from him, his two captains resumed their seats. Sorcor’s deep voice broke the silence. There was fierce satisfaction in his voice. “When you told me Kennit was dead, I thought our dreams had died with him. I should have had more faith, Wintrow. Kennit chose well in you.”

Wintrow’s voice was grave, but the hint of a smile played on his face as he spoke on. “We know these waters well. We’ve left the Jamaillian fleet behind us in the dark. I recommend that as soon as Sorcor and Red return to their vessels, they separate and loop back through the islands and return to Divvytown. Send birds to command a massing of the pirate fleet. Then lie quiet there for a time until the other ships arrive.”

“And you, sir?” Sorcor asked.

“I’ll be going with you, Sorcor, on the Marietta. Also Etta and the Lord High Magnadon Satrap Cosgo. As well as our captives… noble guests,” he amended smoothly. He raised his voice to forestall questions. “The Satrap requires our protection and support. We will mass our fleet at Divvytown. Then we will undertake to return him to Jamaillia City, where he can present to the rest of his nobles the endorsed treaty that allies him with the Kingdom of the Pirate Isles. Our guests shall remain well cared for in Divvytown until our claims are recognized. Now, Etta-” He paused, then plunged on, “Queen Etta, chosen by Kennit to sail beside him, and the mother of his unborn son, will go with us to see that the claims of the Pirate Isles are recognized. She will reign for her child until he comes of age.”