The Merman and the Barbarian Pirate (5 page)

"You probably speak truth there." Kemp rubbed his lantern jaw then shrugged. "Take him below anyway, boys."

"Aye, aye, Captain Kemp," chorused George and Peffy as one.

"And clap him in irons," added Kemp. "We can take no risks with such prizes at stake for us."

"Irons?" Raef's heart jolted. "No, please don't chain me. I can't. I don't want that!"

His cries went as unheeded as his plea for freedom had, and George and Peffy hauled him from the cabin. Captain Kemp regarded him with an apparent thoughtfulness, obsidian eyes twinkling, before sitting back down on his bed, swinging up his legs, and reclining to read his book once more.

A breeze nudged the door shut, eclipsing Kemp from Raef's view. Raef struggled and kicked, but George and Peffy manhandled him down a ladder and into the black hole of the deck below, sending his terrors ratcheting up a notch. While Peffy restrained him, twisting his arms behind him, George struck a light. This revealed a murky chamber: the ceiling even lower than the cabin above. When Peffy pushed him forward, Raef had to stoop. A bunch of hammocks hung from the beams, several bulging with the dozing forms of inmates. One of them lifted his sallow face to leer in Raef's direction. Barrels, pales, and jumbles of net and rope were jam-packed in every corner.

"'Ere." George grabbed a blanket from one of the empty hammocks and threw it at Raef. It landed on his bare feet. "Wrap yourself in that, pretty boy. It's chilly down below."

What,
farther
down below? So they were going to force him deeper into this wooden netherworld. Peffy let him pick up the threadbare blanket; Raef stared at it in despair. George then shoved him toward another ladder and pressed him to descend into the bowels of the ship. Here, the pirates thrust him into a compartment too small to lie flat. Raef hunched into a ball, hoping to be allowed to just sit there. It wasn't to be. Peffy fastened manacles about his wrists and shackles about his feet, the heavy chains clunking between. He draped the coarse blanket about Raef's shoulders, clanged the barred door closed, and departed with his cohort up the ladder. A trap door slammed shut.

Raef shuddered and gasped into the blackness, inhaling the tang of tar and dead fish. How did it all go so wrong, so fast? Had he been a fool? Maybe if his mother hadn't died when he was still so young, he'd have understood life better. He'd not fitted into Galyna's realm, so he'd pursued beauty and love in the human world… and his actions had brought him lower than ever before.

The rusted chains rubbed against his skin. While the blanket offered scant warmth, it scratched and stung like a sea anemone. Damp floorboards chafed his bare bottom, and rats squeaked and scuffled hard by. It would have been easy to surrender to tears. Raef refused them, swallowing back his first sob.

He wasn't dead. The kluggites hadn't killed him, nor shown any inclination to do so, though Kemp had slammed him against a wall and ordered this horrible punishment. Still, something about Kemp troubled Raef. Something he didn't comprehend. Now that he'd gazed upon Kemp's sleeping form and admired it, Raef didn't hate him as he ought.

But no matter. If he thought Kemp in any way appealing, it must be tiredness speaking, or his eyes deluding him. Kluggites were villains, and Kemp was the enemy, a barbarian. Come the morning, Raef would find a way to escape. He had to. And if he saw a chance, he'd snatch that ruby and take it back to Lord Haverford.

"My beautiful lord," murmured Raef, conjuring Haverford in his mind's eye. He consoled himself with a sigh, which was lost beneath the creak of the capstan. The anchor was being raised. In a short while, a rocking motion from the boat offered succor also. Muffled shouts and a prolonged clattering above further indicated Kemp and his crew had set sail.

So be it. In his merman form, Raef could travel back to Haverford and the castle from anywhere. If he wasn't in the sea in order to shift back at dawn, he'd have to wait 'til sunset. The prospect was an arduous one, but he would endure.

Three

When Raef awoke, daylight seeped between the cracks. His neck hurt from sleeping in an awkward position, and as his memories seeped back, a nervous frisson seized him. He'd slumbered too long and would most likely have to spend the day on this cursed vessel, which pitched and swayed. Who knew what torments he'd have to face before dusk and his next chance to shift?

He was still clearing the mists of sleep from his vision when the trapdoor opened and somebody descended the ladder. Fine boots delineated elegant calf muscles and leather clung to well-shaped thighs and a neat backside.

Captain Kemp turned to face Raef, ducking to avoid hitting the ceiling. Raef swallowed a dry lump from his throat and scowled.

"How you doing, boy?" asked Kemp, who'd swept his hair back in a red scarf.

"How do you think?" Raef tried to sound snappy rather than scared. He spotted the ruby ring glinting on Kemp's smallest finger. "Please let me out, you … you barbarian thief!"

"Learned that insult from your master, did you?" Kemp snorted, releasing the door of the cage. "All right. I'll let you out and give you a decent breakfast to boot. But you must promise you'll not try to escape, which isn't a difficult vow to make. We're out of sight of the shore, and the only place we'll make anchor before Lilhaven is a bleak clump of rock with cliffs no man could climb. Good swimmer you might be, but jumping overboard here would be madness."

Not for me. Not once I've got my tail and gills back.

Raef licked his dry lips and managed the untruth. "I promise I won't try."

"Good lad." Kemp released the shackles from his wrists and ankles and pulled him to his feet. Raef's head swam and his limbs felt feeble. The boat oscillated, pitched on an upsurge, and sent Raef tumbling into Kemp's embrace. He breathed his scent: salty, herby, and oh-so-male. How could a pirate smell so… appetizing?

"Get up too fast, eh?" said Kemp. "You must be hungry."

Raef extracted and gathered himself, mustering another scowl. "Yes, I'm starving." And maintaining strength while in human form was always hard work for a merman, but he would hardly tell Kemp that and reveal his true identity to a kluggite. He'd heard many a haunting tale of pirates entrapping merfolk. Kemp would have him back in those chains for sure.

He followed Kemp up onto the deck above, savoring the fresher air. He soon found himself sitting on a three-legged stool, the blanket tied about his middle, and eating a plate of bread, butter, and the morning's catch of mackerel. This cheered him more than he felt it ought. As a merman, he ate chiefly raw fish and seaweed. The way these humans heated food brought out wonderful, subtle flavors. Over the past few weeks, he'd tried some scraps left near the fishermen's cottages, which was as far as he'd dared creep inland. He’d had nothing as good as these cooked delicacies.

Kemp rummaged about in a corner and then presented him with a pair of ragged trousers and a loose shirt, which he draped across his lap while he used his crust to mop his platter. Opposite him, Kemp leaned against a wooden post with his arms folded. He regarded Raef intently as ever, 'til Raef felt as a herring must when under the beady eye of a gull.

"You can make yourself useful 'til we let you go," said Kemp. "The
Alice O'Shanty
is short of crew and we could do with a cabin boy. Ever scrubbed a deck?"

"Never scrubbed anything in my life," answered Raef, maybe a little too quickly. He sucked the traces of butter from his fingers.

"By Salamon, what
did
you do for Haverford?" Kemp offered a throaty snicker. "I'm taking it you weren't schooled as an assassin."

"A what?"

A shout from deck came to Raef's rescue. Kemp went off to see what the commotion was, though not before broadsiding Raef with a final questioning glare and a barked instruction. "Get dressed, lad. You'll catch your death."

Catch his death? Raef hadn't a notion what that meant either. It sounded like a threat. Either way, he figured he'd do what Kemp requested. He was fed up of being stared at. Seeing as humans tended to wear clothes, maybe if he got dressed they'd stop gawping. It would be easier to slip away then, too. He stepped into the trousers, which reached just below his knees, then spent some time fiddling with the strings that served for a belt. Unable to secure them, he gave up and wrestled his way into the shirt. This had cords too, dangling from the open flaps at the collar. Before he could fathom what they were for, Peffy's bulky frame came clunking down the ladder.

Peffy grinned. He had several gaps in his mouth and his remaining teeth were brown, nothing like Kemp's pearly gnashers. "Ready to get scrubbing?" he asked.

Raef nodded and followed, bunching his trousers at the waist to keep them falling. His shirt hung open. When they reached the deck, the breeze hit him and set the fabric flapping. It felt twice as drafty as having no clothes at all. The morning was duller than yesterday, the clouds a milky white, and as Kemp had warned him, there was no sight of the shore. He'd certainly have to wait 'til sundown for a safe chance to make a break for it. Swimming around the headland the previous night had stretched his human body to its limit. If he dived in before he was able to shift back to his swifter, stronger mer form, the pirates would most likely drag him back to the ship. Or he'd drown before he found land.

Peffy pointed to a mop, a bucket, and a yellowish stone. "Use the holystone first. I want every inch of this deck lathed, not a speck of dust or tar remaining. Then swab it down with the mop."

Still gripping his gaping trousers with one hand, Raef picked up the stone and looked at it.

"What's with you, boy?" demanded Peffy. "You act like you've
lived
under a stone all your life. Are you a pixie of the wilds or just the village noodle?" As Raef opened his mouth to protest, Peffy snatched the stone then began to rub the planks with it. "Like this. Now get on with it. Every inch, I say, and no slacking."

Peffy handed the stone to Raef, who obeyed. Once on his knees, he didn't need to worry so much about keeping his trousers from descending. Still, they slipped to expose the top of his arse to the wind and the salt spray, which stung buttocks sore from a night on splintered boards. He felt stronger now he'd breakfasted, though he didn't enjoy the work. Scouring was monotonous and made his wrist, back, and elbows ache. So he cheered himself by musing on the delight he'd bring to Lord Haverford if he presented him with the ruby ring. Seeing as he had all day—and because the pirates were treating him more decently than he'd expected—his scheme of theft seemed worth pondering again.

Could he get that ruby away from Kemp?

As Raef worked, Peffy and George and few other odd-looking fellows occupied themselves with the business of sailing the ship. George astonished Raef with his nimbleness about the rigging, climbing nigh swift as a kestrel to unfurl the topsail. Overall, the men were coarse, swearing and belching as much as they laughed, but they weren't unpleasant. Chiefly, they ignored Raef. Some of them spread out nets and then cast them over the side to do some fishing. The main interest of the morning came when George, high upon the foremast, spotted some unmapped rocks.

At George's hail, Kemp emerged from his cabin and marked the location on a chart. After that, the captain remained on the poop deck, fiddling with an angular wooden device and examining the broad expanse of the ocean through a long, brass eyeglass. He spotted a couple of other sails over the next hour or so, but dismissed both. "Just some wretched fishermen," he observed of the first, and on the second occasion, "It's those beleaguered Jack Tars. Ah, if only it were one of Haverford's merchantmen. I'd sink 'em in a jiffy."

Raef hadn't known Haverford owned ships, but while Kemp's threat raised his heckles, nothing else piratical was discussed. The brisk wind set the
Alice O'Shanty
darting through the waters in a southerly direction, which suited Raef. Having now had a chance to judge the narrow variety and relative scarcity of seabirds, he estimated they were definitely too far out for a human to swim back to land, but weren't moving farther away. Rather, they must be running parallel with the rocky shore he'd made his home of late. Once free and be-tailed, his swim back to Haverford's castle wouldn't be too arduous.

But he
was
getting weary, and the pain in his elbow grew sharp. He'd not half the stamina he possessed in his merman form. Needing a rest, Raef sat back on his haunches and rubbed his neck, which was damp with sweat and spray. Then he started. Kemp leaned over the railing on the poop deck, regarding him with one brow raised. Raef fixed on the ruby ring Kemp wore and hitched his lip.

"Thief," he muttered. "Barbarian." Defying his sore muscles, he returned to his task. When Kemps climbed down and approached him, he started to regret the insult. He recalled yet more nasty tales of kluggites who flayed their crew for the smallest misdemeanor. As Kemp's boots drew level with his sightline, his veins ran cold. Had he earned himself a whipping that would cut him and scar?