The Return of Nightfall (42 page)

The moment the door opened, he demanded, “Did we shift course?”

Nightfall entered and closed the panel behind him. He had hoped the captain would not notice. “A bit,” he admitted. The captain had had them headed around the Yortenese Peninsula and into uncharted waters in the hope the Lifthranian ships would not dare to follow. Nightfall had other ideas, and he found the pirates more willing to comply than he expected. They, too, worried about gliding at top speed into unfathomable territory that could carry them off the edge of the world. The men on the hunter ships might kill them, but at least it was a death they understood and knew how to fight. “Don’t worry. I have things under control.”

“Don’t worry,” the captain spat out. “Don’t worry, says the power-mad pretender who has control of my ship.”

Nightfall broke out his kit and set to work on the captain’s face.

“Surrendered command to a stranger. Headed for unknown territory. Hiding in the guise of a woman.” The captain shook his head, forcing Nightfall to stop and sit back on his haunches. “What have I done?”

“Rescued your men from certain death?” Nightfall tried. “Now save your fretting like a woman until I’ve made you into one.”

“My course was not random, you know.”

“I know,” Nightfall said, though he did not. To his knowledge, the seas beyond the continent were wholly unexplored.

“I have an island there that’s off the maps. A safe hideaway when things get too hot or we need to careen.” The captain’s eyes narrowed stoically. “Not many ships are brave enough to follow us beyond the peninsula.”

Nightfall drew back, prepared for an explosion. “We’re going to Alyndar.”

The captain sprang to his feet, bellowing, “What!”

Nightfall saw no reason to repeat himself. Though it was a dangerous position, he remained between the captain and the door.

“You fool! They’ll catch us for sure!” The captain’s face turned scarlet in an instant. “You betrayed us!”

Nightfall kept his voice flat and soft, a deadly contrast to the captain’s fury. To wither beneath that terrible glare would be to admit a guilt that would end in his death. He could not afford to back down, to appear weak or uncertain. Clearly, the captain thought Nightfall intended to abandon the pirates to their fate once he reached his destination. “Don’t be stupid, Celdurant.”

“Stupid?” The captain trembled with rage. The cosmetics Nightfall had applied softened his features but could not hide the look of menace in his sharp, pale eyes. “You talk about stupid, you who plans to trap us in port. We’re all dead men.” His voice became a lethal growl. “And you’re going first.” His fist lashed suddenly for Nightfall’s face.

Too close for a complete dodge, Nightfall weathered a glancing blow to the cheek that sprawled him. Pain slammed through his head and, a moment later, shocked along his spine. He looked up to find the captain towering over him, face still fiery, crimson with fury.

Angrier at himself for not getting fully out of the way, Nightfall flicked his own withering glare onto the captain. His cheek ached, and it would bruise; but nothing was broken. “Would you like to hear my reasons before you kill me?”

The captain kept his fist cocked and remained standing over Nightfall. “Talk fast.”

Nightfall rubbed his aching face. “First, if they even dare to follow us into port, they won’t cause any trouble in Alyndar.”

“Why not?”

“Because, in the current political climate, they might spark a war they can’t possibly win.”

The captain’s face went a shade lighter as he considered Nightfall’s words.

“Second, an honest merchant has no fear of royal Lifthranian ships, no reason to go sailing into the realm of monsters, and every reason to head for Alyndar port.”

The captain’s fist dropped to his side. “But—”

“Third, I would rather confront Lifthranian royalty in a civilized location than on the open sea. Having an audience will force them to remain polite, which may keep them from examining cargo, contents, and personnel too carefully.”

The captain huffed out a lungful of air, then offered his hand to help Nightfall up. “I’m sorry I hit you.”

Nightfall accepted the captain’s assistance, though he would have found it easier to tap his talent. Although he suffered unfairly for it, Nightfall understood the strain crushing down upon the captain. Celdurant had made the ultimate sacrifices: his ship and his men, and only time would tell whether he had saved them or doomed them. “I’m sorry you hit me, too.” He ran a callused hand along his swelling cheek. “You’re stronger than an avalanche, and quick, too. If I hadn’t scrambled, you’d have broken my whole damned face.”

“Sorry,” the captain repeated, though he looked more self-satisfied than repentant as he studied the damage.

Nightfall rummaged through his wares, plucking out a tasteful dress and slips. “Put these on.” He also passed over some wadded cloth. “And you know where this needs to go.” He cupped his own chest to indicate breasts. “You have a role to play, and it doesn’t involve punching anyone.”

“Right.” The captain took the proffered items, scowling at them. “It’s just—”

Nightfall did not allow him to finish. “You have to show me the same trust you demanded from your men.”

“How can I—”

“You must. This was your idea, remember?”

The captain winced, but he disrobed, revealing a slender torso with every muscle perfectly defined. “I remember.”

Someone knocked at the door, and a voice wafted through the panel. “Captain. Captain!”

The captain reached for his regular clothing, but Nightfall caught his hand. “He means me.”

“But—”

Nightfall crossed to the door and slipped out, leaving the captain to dress. “What is it?”

The pirate did not miss a beat. “We’re outrunning the runners now.”

“Great.”

“But . . .” The pirate paused, gaze straying to Nightfall’s injured cheek. “. . . we need to slow down if we’re going to make port. What do you want us to do, sir?”

Though Nightfall knew his careful coaching would raise their speed, he had not expected to reach Alyndar quite this fast. “Prepare to dock. Remember your parts and act accordingly.”

“Aye, Captain.” The pirate rushed to obey.

Nightfall watched the retreating back, shaking his head. He doubted many people could distinguish sailors from pirates; both tended to become raunchy and rowdy after a long sea voyage. He intended to sell his wares rather than baby-sit their antics in the tavern, and he hoped they could behave themselves even without a captain present. Nightfall sucked in a deep breath, enjoying the salt tang of the air and even the musty odor of the hold. Quickly, he returned to the captain’s quarters and began packing what remained of his wares, intending to have the merchandise all in one spot and his presence topside during docking.

The captain assisted, sorting objects with a speed that rivaled Nightfall’s own. As he moved, Nightfall assessed his own handiwork from the corners of his vision. Celdurant made a strikingly handsome woman: his baby-blue eyes sparkling beneath oiled bangs, his soft raven hair brushed forward and caught with a dainty jeweled clip. The long shift hid the entirety of his legs, and a pair of supple slippers peeked from beneath the hem. Tucked in the right places, it simulated a woman’s figure admirably. Nightfall diverted the handfuls of cloth he had been about to stuff into his pack to the captain’s bodice. He manipulated the cups into the shape of breasts, earning a slap from the captain that flared through his already bruised face.

Nightfall recoiled. “What in the depths of the Father’s hell did you do that for?”

The captain spoke in his best falsetto, “You were getting too friendly for my liking.”

Nightfall cringed at the parody. “Do us all a favor and don’t talk any more than you have to.” He rubbed his aching cheek. “And save the act until I’m done.” More gingerly, he reached to straighten the false breasts.

“So where are we going first, Balshaz?”

Completing the task, Nightfall hefted his pack, rolling his eyes to meet the captain’s gaze. “We?”

The captain nodded.

“Begging your pardon, madam.” Nightfall emphasized the last word to remind the captain of the need for over-the-top caution. “But I think it’s best for everyone if you stay here until we’ve finished our business in Alyndar, put back out to sea, and we know the Lifthranians are no longer chasing us.”

The captain batted his eyes and gave Nightfall a pseudo-adoring look. “Do you now, darling?”

“I do.”

Still in falsetto: “Don’t you think we should test out this disguise of yours in a relatively safe place? It has to be able to fool my own brother.”

The ship slowed. Nightfall adjusted his mass as the deck rocked and the men topsides prepared for mooring. “It’s not my disguise I’m worried about. It’s your lousy acting.”

The captain’s jaw set, and he dropped all pretenses. “Look, Balshaz. I’ve given you command of my ship and my men. I’ve completely surrendered my dignity. How do I know you aren’t going to head straight to Alyndar Castle and turn us in for pirates?”

“I gave you my word—”

Celdurant shrugged that off as insignificant. “Yes, yes. And you assured me you’re an honest merchant, but the scummiest thief from the filthiest gutter would do the same. No one admits to being a putrid, deceitful, shit-stinking pile of rat sick.”

Apparently, the noble-turned-pirate had not found some of the dives Nightfall once knew as havens. There, he could find men proud of being putrid, deceitful, shit-stinking piles of rat sick. Balshaz, however, would not know those places either. “It’s too dangerous.” Nightfall’s heart rate quickened to a flutter. He operated alone for many reasons, and the bruise on his face really limited his options. He could hide the discoloration, but the swelling would prove more difficult. It would arouse suspicion for a random page, guard, or serving girl to have an injury of the exact same type and position as a newly arrived merchant.

Receiving no answer, the captain shoved past Nightfall to the door.

Nightfall raced ahead and blocked him. “Sir, with all respect. You’ve already made my job much more difficult.”

“How so?”

“What would you think of a merchant with this?” Nightfall cupped his hand around his damaged cheek.

The captain paused, hand in midair where it would have tripped the latch had Nightfall not stepped into the way. “I’d think . . .” He grinned. “I’d think the merchant’s last customer was . . . dissatisfied.”

“Most people won’t buy from a merchant with unhappy customers.”

“But, perhaps, when they see you with a beautiful woman on your arm, they’ll reconsider.” The captain pushed Nightfall aside effortlessly; he did not dare increase his weight and reveal his talent just to keep the man there for a few more moments. Celdurant tripped the latch and turned his head to give Nightfall a dark look. “I am going with you.” Without further warning, he shoved open the door and headed toward the ladder.

Nightfall grabbed up his pack and followed, sprinting around the captain to take the rungs first. He murmured as he passed. “Smaller steps,
madam
. And lighter. Remember, you’re a
girl
.”

The captain whispered back a bitter oath that did not fit his tone or his dress, and he followed Nightfall topside.

As Nightfall cleared the hatch, he nearly collided with a pirate leaping for the opening. An abrupt side step saved them both, and Nightfall gallantly pulled his disguised companion to safety as well.

The captain let out a short, feminine squeal indicative of surprise, then hissed under his breath. “How was that?”

“Nice touch,” Nightfall mumbled back.

The pirate drew to attention, gaze leaping repeatedly from Nightfall to the captain and back. “Um . . . sir . . . I . . .”

Nightfall tried to get him focused on his mesage, before the source of his consternation, the captain’s dress, became apparent to anyone else. “What is it, sailor?”

The pirate turned his gaze directly on Nightfall. “Docking’s nearly completed, Captain. Alyndar requests permission to board.”

Nightfall rolled his gaze to the captain, careful to keep his voice as low as possible. “Anything incriminating aboard?”

The captain scowled. “Don’t like them aboard my ship, but I don’t see as it’s avoidable. Let them come.”

Without bothering to address the pirate, Nightfall headed forward. The captain took his arm near the elbow.

At the docks, men cleated the last of the lines, and half a dozen Alyndarian guards stood ready to board. Muted by wisps of cloud, the sun beamed down upon the dockhands, most of whom had stripped to their waists. Sweat sheened their bodies or glistened from dark tangles of chest hair, and the odor of salt and sea-things receded beneath the stench of bodies in desperate need of washing. The pirates stepped aside, making the appropriate gestures of deference to Nightfall as they stole glimpses at their dolled-up captain.

Though all the guards sported Alyndar’s purple and silver, the fist clutching a hammer symbol emblazoned on their tunics, only one wore a hat. Nightfall addressed him. “Good day, sir.”

“And good day to you, sir,” the guard returned gruffly, with none of the friendliness implied by the greeting. “Are you the captain?”

“Captain Balshaz,” Nightfall confirmed. “Actually, I’m a merchant by trade, but I rented this ship to bring my wares.” He gave the leader of the guards a pointed look. “Difficult to find anyone sailing to these parts.”

The guardsman did not take the bait. “Docking fee’s ten coppers. Paid now or on leaving. And we need to board.”

“Last trip, it was three coppers; and no one boarded.” It would seem strange not to remark on such an exorbitant fee. “Now I see why it’s so hard to find passage here.”

The leader of the guards scowled. “Castle orders, sir. We’re counting heads. Making sure the same number leaves as comes. Same faces.”