Guild Wars: Sea of Sorrows (31 page)

“I’m not going to rant. I told you, I’m here to apologize.” He took the whiskey gratefully, turning one of the hard wooden chairs around to straddle the seat. “Thanks.”

“All right, then get to it.” She eyed him.

Cobiah phrased his thoughts carefully. Something about Isaye’s manner always made him think twice before he acted—something he wasn’t at all used to doing. It was
uncomfortable, but he liked the results. Simply put, she was good for him. “I’m sorry I got angry at you during the council meeting. You had the right to vote your conscience, and I shouldn’t act like that’s wrong. Even when I don’t agree with you.” He managed a sheepish smile.

He went on. “Yomm was right. I don’t take the
Pride
out as often as I’d like, and maybe that makes me a bad captain. But Yomm’s a terrible one. He doesn’t bring anything to the defense of the city, and despite his platitudes, he’s not planning on being helpful. You know as well as I do that he hasn’t joined the council to protect Lion’s Arch. He joined it to keep his power—and his profits—intact.”

Isaye nodded. “I know.”

“You . . .” Cobiah blinked. “That’s terrible!”

“Yup.” She took a sip of her whiskey. “It’s damn lousy of him. Yomm’s a skunk, and there’s no doubt about it.”

He stared at her, restraint forgotten. “Then why the hell did you vote for him?”

Isaye set down her whiskey glass and answered, “I voted to uphold the rules of the city, Cobiah. I didn’t vote
for
Yomm.”

“Are you kidding me?” Cobiah exploded. “The city’s in jeopardy. You know that asura’s trying to rook the council, and you don’t feel any kind of responsibility to keep him out?” Shaking, Cobiah took a gulp of the whiskey and felt it burn against the back of his throat. Choking slightly, he said, “Did they pay you?”

Isaye’s eyes flashed—the first sign of genuine anger he’d seen. “You think I was bribed? You know me better than that.”

“Then what were you doing?”

“Not that I owe you any kind of explanation, Coby, but Yomm followed the laws. Laws
we
made, and laws we
have to obey. If we don’t, nobody else will, and then this city really will be everything King Baede says: chaotic, anarchic, and lawless.”

“Oh, so now it’s all about what Baede’s going to think of us.”

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean—” Isaye thumped her whiskey glass onto the desk. “Kryta used to rule Lion’s Arch. We’re lucky King Baede’s got his hands full with the war in Ascalon and the building of his new city, but that won’t last forever. If he thinks Lion’s Arch is a problem, he’ll allocate Seraph from his army to conquer us. Then what do we do? We don’t have the manpower to fight trained military.

“The only reason we’ve managed to keep operating independently is because we’re not a thorn in the king’s side. We’re too small to give him reason to take us over, and despite our reputation, Lion’s Arch does have laws, and we live by them.” Isaye leaned forward and met his eyes. “The minute those two things change, King Baede will take an interest. I assure you.”

Cobiah took another sip of his whiskey. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth.

More gently, Isaye continued. “Laws are important, and we need some new ones. We can’t kick Grimjaw off the council for not paying his bills. Or Nodobe for running a slaver. And maybe we should.” She pointed at him with the hand that held her glass. “If this sets a fire under the council’s ass to make those laws, then I’m willing to be the one to do it.”

“And then what? We turn into Kryta? Next we’ll start making laws against norn in taverns because they brawl too much. Or outlawing asuran laboratories inside the city limits.”

“The ones that research on skritt, yes,” Isaye countered. “Those poor little rats.” She rolled her glass between her
hands in concern. At last, she said, “Cobiah . . . this city needs better morals. And so do you.”

Cobiah thumped the glass onto the table. “I’ve got plenty of morals.” He frowned.

“No, Coby. You don’t. You’ve got a conscience, and that’s different. Remember the time you sacked that norn vessel carrying settlers—women and children—south of the Shiverpeaks?”

Stung, Cobiah raised his voice. “I put them all ashore!”

“But you kept their money,” Isaye replied. “And the charr freighter carrying Ascalonian relics?”

“I had no idea they were carrying holy artifacts. Even if I had known, how was I to guess that they were a peace gesture bound for Port Noble? You were as surprised as I was to see those statues of Dwayna.”

“It’s true, I was. But you sold them to a private collector for quite a bit of money, and that sank any hope of a treaty between Kryta and the charr,” Isaye scolded. She stood up, pushing her chair aside and moving to sit on the fore of the desk closer to him. In a gentler tone, she continued. “You’ll do what you want, Cobiah Marriner. Usually, I like that about you—but in this case, it’s hurting the city.”

Cobiah gritted his teeth. “You’re blaming this whole thing on me?”

“Of course not, but you are the leader of the council, and this is hardly a surprise. Lion’s Arch isn’t a cluster of buildings and landed ships anymore. It’s a town, and someday soon, it’s going to be a city. But you’re not mad at me over supporting the law. This is a personal issue for you, Coby, and you know it.”

“Personal?” Cobiah leaned forward and placed his hand on her knee. “What do you mean?”

“You weren’t half this mad before Yomm accused you of being a bad captain.”

A pause. “All right, you’ve got me there,” he said grudgingly. With a smile, he added, “How about this: I’ll grant you that we need better laws, if you admit that Yomm’s captaincy’s bad for Lion’s Arch.”

“Granted,” Isaye replied. She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it gently. “So, what are we going to do about it?”

Grinning, Cobiah held up his empty glass. “I like the ‘we’ part of that question. How about ‘we’ pour another round of drinks?”

She laughed and shook her head knowingly. “Scamp.” Emptying her glass in a single swallow, she let go of his hand and walked back to the table. Isaye uncorked the crystal bottle and refreshed their glasses. “I’m worried, Coby. It’s clear that Yomm’s not working alone. That bag of money? It wasn’t his. He couldn’t pay for the cargo I brought out of Rata Sum, so I know he didn’t come up with that much cash on the spot. Yomm’s finances aren’t good. He must have had a backer.”

“Interesting. Who?” Cobiah took the proffered glass.

With a smile, Isaye sat on the edge of the desk, taking his hand in hers. She smiled contentedly and intertwined their fingers. “I don’t know. But they already know that you’re their enemy, Cobiah. Based on the way you argued against Yomm in council, they know you won’t let his shenanigans go on without a fight. I swear, if that asura had had a knife in his hand during the council meeting, you’d be a dead man.”

“If Yomm wants a shot at me, he can stand in line.” Cobiah winked.

They laughed together, voices lifting in camaraderie.

A knock on the door drew their attention. Isaye set down her glass and rose, chuckling as she crossed the room. “I swear, Coby. You’re incorrigible.”

“According to Sykox”—he smiled and leaned back comfortably—“I’ve made a career out of it.”

Isaye opened the door. The deck outside was empty. Frowning, she glanced in both directions, trying to spot the watch lantern. “Verahd?” After a moment, she called again. “Verahd?” There was no answer. Isaye took a step onto the deck, hair blowing in the sea breeze, and Coby noticed a small package resting at her feet.

“What’s that?” Getting up from the chair, he walked toward her, pointing at the brown-wrapped parcel. As Isaye bent to pick it up, Cobiah caught sight of a small figure hurtling down the dock toward the
Nomad
. Multicolored braids bounced wildly in its wake as a familiar voice shouted into the darkness.

“Coby! Get off the ship! That package, it’s a—”

Questioningly, Isaye reached for the bundle. Something sparked along the edges of the paper as she did. Before Macha could finish her sentence, the spark blazed into a flicker of scintillating yellow light. Flame leapt across the surface of the package. In the same instant, Cobiah leapt toward Isaye.

A massive explosion rocked the
Nomad
, roaring over the deck in a wave of hungry flame.

T
he boom of the detonation echoed across the harbor with the impact of a thunderclap. The quarterdeck of the
Nomad
splintered from the concussion. Fire caught the timbers and spread through the back of the clipper with the speed of a racing centaur. On the dock, Macha screamed and called for aid, calling sailors on the docks and guards from the town with shouts of “Fire! Fire on the wharf!”

Aboard the
Nomad
, sailors dove into the ocean, choosing the cold darkness of waves over the scorching heat of flame. Only one remained on the upper deck, his steely blue eyes flashing with impenetrable surety. Verahd raised his hands in the motions of magic, holding his staff high to summon wind. As flame trickled up the wrappings around his wrists, Verahd stood fast and directed the steadily rising gale, pressing it into service against the fire.

Macha made it to the top of the gangplank, raising one hand to shield her eyes from the glare. “What are you doing? We have to get off the ship before the munitions catch fire!”

“I’m not leaving my captain.” Verahd’s voice was barely audible above the inferno.

“Isaye’s dead!” Macha grabbed for him, but her fingers were singed by the burning straps that wrapped around the elementalist’s wrist. “We have to go!”

“I’m not leaving my captain!”
The wizard’s voice cracked like glass. Renewing his efforts, Verahd pounded his staff against the deck of the ship. Magic thundered around him, pouring over Verahd’s body, churning wind and flame into a storm across his skin. Macha was thrust back by the power of it. The elementalist continued to chant, his eyes wide, and with a roar of energy, his body transformed into a tornado of swirling wind.

“Verahd! No! You can’t—” Macha raised a hand before her eyes to shield them from the overwhelming gusts, but if the elementalist could still hear her, the tornado didn’t change its path. She stumbled backward. With a curse, Macha clawed her way back to the gangplank and made her way down it to the dock, unwilling to lose her own life to the blaze.

The tornado-bound Verahd showed no such self-interest. Amid the flame and thick clouds of smoke, he spun unwaveringly, fire lacing each sweep of massive wind as he pounded the ship with gusts. The tornado drew spray and water from the sea around the clipper, drenching the deck as well as blowing the fire out. As the tornado slowed, Verahd could again be seen walking across the
Nomad
’s deck. Clothing alight, hair greasy with sweat, and skin pink from the heat, Verahd took step after step toward the rear of the ship, pushing the flame apart with wind and storm despite his own injuries.

There, amid the wreckage of the cabin, lay two bodies. Protected from the initial blast by the solid oak wall, they now huddled in the center of the room. Cobiah had managed to wrap a blanket about them, dumping water from the washbasin over it to slow the fire. Even
with that, the smoke had overcome them, and Isaye lay huddled in Cobiah’s arms, both of them unconscious from the heat.

Verahd’s anger was like the tempest of storm winds. He pushed through the blaze, tamping out the fire, fighting his way toward them. The elementalist’s wrappings roasted, and his flesh seared, but no pain, no suffering, no injury would make him abandon his loyalties. At last, Verahd knelt beside the sodden, roasting blanket pile. They were alive. He tucked the blanket tightly around them, like a father putting his children to rest.

“I only have strength enough for two, Captain,” Verahd whispered to the unconscious Isaye, not caring if she could hear him. “You’ll be all right.” With a great effort of will, he summoned the wind once more. This time, he commanded the gale to lift the sodden burden, raising it high above the leaping flames. As the cabin began to collapse around him, Verahd’s final spell swept Isaye and Cobiah out the shattered windows and into the night.

On the dock, a bucket brigade had started. Sailors and workmen, guards and villagers struggled to dump water on the flames before the blaze could spread. Macha stood at the forefront. As the wind lowered its bundle to the boards, Macha raced toward it, tears streaking the ash on her cheeks. “Coby!” she shouted, dragging away the smoking blanket. “Are you all right? By the Alchemy, say something. Please!” She shook him, splashing seawater on his face until he roused. “Blessings on the etheric equation,” the asura breathed gratefully. “You’re alive.”

“Macha?” he asked groggily. She smiled and nodded, squeezing his hand in hers.

Just at that moment, the munitions room on the
Nomad
caught fire. There was a roar of flame and a thundering
boom as the stern of the ship detonated in a massive explosion of spraying gunpowder and shot.

—

Dawn was rising, pink stripes lightening the horizon and giving them a clear view of the damage. The fore of the
Nomad
was in fair shape, but the rear—the quarterdeck, the captain’s cabin, and the lower berths—were seared, blackened, and torn open. “Who would
do
this?” Isaye asked quietly, standing on the end of the dock. “Verahd . . . my brave, loyal friend . . .” Tears overwhelmed her, and she bent her head as they slid down ash-stained cheeks. Cobiah pulled Isaye close, cradling her head against his chest as she wept.