Buxacan Spicerunner Read online

  “Well, for starters he’s taken over a hundred prizes. He fought half the Jono Navy to a stand still; he’s sacked every Agresian port there is, and Port Therma and even Gateway, once. I sailed with him four years and I were at Gateway. That was a fight! That’s why all the hands give me room; they know better than to cross a man what sailed with Cap’n Anford!

  “As to what he’s given us, that be safety, plain and simple. Used to be, sailors of enterprise die in a fight or on a rope. Past coupla years he’s made Port Buxaca into a safe place, a clean place where a child with a bag o’ gold can walk from one side o’ town to the other and nobody would touch him. No beggars, no thieves, no slaves. Place to keep our swag without fear o’ poachin’. Hand gets tired o’ rovin’; he can retire on what he’s taken and never ever fear the rope. Cap’n says there be plenty o’ treasure to go around, so he organized all the ships, made ‘em Brothers in the Societies. Brothers of the Societies don’t fight each other no more, neither. Waste o’ time. If a ship of the same color flag as you gets in trouble, you help ‘em out.”

  “Aren’t we going to Port Buxaca? My father’s no pirate!” exclaimed Sako.

  “Not everyone is, lad. Man can choose his own life in Port Buxaca. I’m bettin’ your da’ll open another inn, even better than The Wayfarer, time he’s done. We’ve smiths and potters and barkeeps—even farmers! Soon we’ll have a shipwright. Man I know makes candles—richer now than he ever were in Port Sipa, let me tell you! And there’s other seafaring trades. Kimbulan merchantmen be the only non-Society ships the Cap’n trusts in Swag Bay. They take our plunder and sell it in other ports, so our ships don’t got to go where somebody knows ‘em. In return, we don’t touch Kimbulan ships ever.”

  “I thought Port Buxaca was just like Rumtown,” said Arno. “Filthy and lawless, with ten thieves for every honest man.”

  “So it were, afore Cap’n Anford. He told the thieves, ship out or go swimming. And he made the other cap’ns join the Societies or sail for Rumtown. Now Rumtown ships steer clear o’ Port Buxaca. Hand wantsa hurt people or steal; he joins a crew and does it somewheres else, never in Port Buxaca.”

  “So how many ships does Captain Anford control?”

  “How many Societies are there?”

  “There be two Societies: the Red Brotherhood and the Black Brotherhood, and there be fourteen ships in all. But Cap’n Anford don’t control ‘em—each cap’n sails where he will.”

  “That’s all? I thought there were dozens of pirates roaming the Great Sea!”

  “There may be, lad, but those’re the only ones allowed in Port Buxaca.”

  “Which one are you?” asked Tara.

  “Sorry lass, that’s one story you won’t get from Old Jaka.” About that time Sturo’s uncle found them, and sent them off to bed.

  Some days later, one of the seamen ran up a flag, the likes of which the children had never seen in the harbor of Dalaria: bright red, depicting a dagger, point down. A cry of, “Swag Island, one point off the port bow!” from one of the lookouts sent the children running for the foredeck, except for Sako, who had spotted the captain near the starboard rail. Sako waited politely while the captain scanned the island ahead through his telescope before asking how long it would be before they were ashore.

  “Tired of sea life, are you? Well, we’re about four hours out.”

  “No sir, I like it fine,” said the boy. “But my mother has been ill since we left home. She’ll be pleased to know how little time we have left on our voyage. If I could, I’d stay and learn to be a sailor, so I could be a captain someday, like you.” Ordinarily a gruff, stern man, the captain couldn’t help but show Sako one of his rare smiles.

  “Someday maybe you will be a captain, but you’ve many years ahead of you to make that choice. Now run along and tell your mum and the other passengers the good news.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  A few hours later, just as the captain had promised, they sailed into Swag Bay. There was a lighthouse near the mouth of the bay, which Jaka had told them was never lit, but was instead a lookout post, it being the highest point in the town. It was painted various shades of green to match the background terrain. It was impossible to tell there was a bay at all until they were nearly in it. But it was there, bowl-shaped with the island rising around it on three sides. Slightly inside the bay there were two small islands, one to either side.

  After the inbound ship had passed them, Sturo noticed that each island concealed a battery of guns, but Sako had eyes only for the ships and small boats of the fishermen. Beyond the town and nearly as high as the lighthouse stood a stone mansion, virtually a castle, boasting cannon along its crenellated top and gun ports on the floor below. The highest point of the island loomed beyond the mansion and, except for the town itself, the isle was thickly forested. There were nine ships visible, though he was disappointed to see that five flew the neutral colors of Kimbu Island, and the others flew no colors at all. Two ships had been beached to the right, and men were busy with scrapers and pitch all around the exposed hulls. Two of the merchantmen were loading cargo to the left, while one with no flag was offloading. The name Fang was painted on its bow. The sterns of the two being careened were clearly visible—their names were Thirteen Twists and Eagle.

  “What does ‘Thirteen twists’ mean?” Arlo wondered aloud.

  “That’s how many loops there are in a noose,” answered a passing hand. “They’re the ‘Hangmen’, think that’s funny.” He grinned at the shocked expressions.

  Arno’s mother heard the answer and looked in time to catch the sailor’s smile. “How dare you say such a thing to children!”

  “Don’t yell, lady. Boy asked a question, I answered.” He scowled down at her from the ratlines, and kept climbing.

  “You there, get aloft! You don’t got time to bother wit’ the passengers!” That was the First Mate, standing next to the wheel and bawling almost continuous orders to those working the sails. With much swearing and cursing, the large ship was made fast to the centermost dock. From there a broad cobbled street led directly to the castle.

  All of the major streets in town seemed to lead from some point at the docks up into town, while Dock Street itself paralleled the waterline almost all the way around the little bay. The passengers and their belongings were offloaded efficiently, directly into a horse cart provided by a couple of stevedores. Presently the captain made his way down the gangplank and gave quiet instructions to the stevedores. After paying them, he turned to his former passengers.

  “If the business owners would accompany me, please. We’ll be going to see Captain Anford and see about finding you all homes and locations for your businesses.” He led the way up the street toward the castle, followed by Arno’s father, Sturo’s father and uncle, and the Pizis. Sako and Tara were left in the care of Mum Zindi. The trio of carpenters in the employ of the Alsis briefly debated visiting the nearest tavern while their boss was away, but decided it would be best to wait until they knew the town better before finding mugs. As the senior among them pointed out, it was a pirate town, and it might not be wise to enter a strange tavern until they’d made friends with some locals who could guide them to the safer establishments.

  After only an hour Danno and the others returned and led the party a block along Dock Street, then up the hill along Rum Street. The street consisted primarily of warehouses and other buildings that were homes. But at the center of Rum Street and the end of Knife Street, there stood a ramshackle building of two stories with a stone façade. It bore the name: ‘The Mermaid’s Breast’. The women present glared at the predictably shaped sign and sniffed their disapproval.

  “We’re not keeping the name,” said Safa Pizi in a tone that brooked no arguments.

  “Of course not,” replied her husband and business partner. “I was thinking of ‘The Dalarian Arms’.” Danno smiled at his wife, but she pretended not to see.

  “Much better,” was all she said.

  The building ha
d been abandoned for some time, and had not been treated well even when it had been occupied. For all that, the exterior walls and roof were solidly constructed, and the second floor proved sound. The Dalarian exiles cleared a space in the taproom and brought in their luggage with the help of the stevedores. When Danno attempted to pay them for their labor, they refused, stating they’d already been paid at the docks. Danno made a gift to them of the inn’s old sign, provided they remove it immediately. The dockworkers were pleased; they were sure they could trade it to the owner of the Dock Street Tavern for several free drinks. After they’d left, Danno called everyone together for a conference.

  It was decided that the Alsis and the carpenters would stay in the old inn, helping refurbish the place in exchange for free meals and board. It would be a while before the dry docks and associated buildings were built to Arno’s specifications—he would be spending his days supervising that construction, which was to be subsidized by Captain Anford himself. The Zindis would be leaving as soon as Miko could find a suitable location for his shop, and he and Danno would trade favors later, when both were more able.

  3

  Port Buxaca

  The children found life in Port Buxaca little different from what they’d led in Dalaria. Mornings were spent working, evenings were for their lessons, and afternoons were free. They quickly made friends with other children, other émigrés, and first generation locals.

  In the rapidly growing shipyards, Sturo made friends with Drac Copton, a sail maker’s son, while Arno befriended Ellor Dayne, whose father’s brokerage was next door to the chandlery. Sako met Thard Jinsen and Dason Nive at the Inn.

  The whole gang was fooling around in the main room one day when Vord, the Clavvish shepherd who supplied the place with mutton, arrived with a child near their own age.

  The child wore his long blond hair in a ponytail after the Clavvish fashion, but was too young for the long moustache his father wore. Danno greeted Vord warmly, and the two men walked into the parlor, leaving the younger Clav behind. Sako immediately stepped forward and asked if he were a boy or a girl. For answer, he received a punch in the face that knocked him on his backside. The other boys fell all over themselves in laughter.

  “What do you think?” the stranger asked aggressively.

  “If she is a girl,” said Dason, “she’s a savage!”

  The other boys roared.

  Angry and embarrassed, Sako slowly got to his feet. “If you’re a girl, I can’t hit you back, so I hope you’re a boy!”

  “My name is Brog and I am a boy, so come on!”

  “Brog the Savage!” called Sturo, and the others took up the chant.

  Brog got angrier and started pushing, but there were too many and they were pushing back. Things were about to get out of hand when Vord and Danno arrived and put a stop to the ruckus.

  When asked what it was about, Brog pointed his finger accusingly. “That one called me a girl, and that one called me savage. Then they all called me a savage.”

  “That true, Sako?” inquired Danno with a look of disappointment.

  “I merely asked. I couldn’t tell with the hair! If he’d been a girl I was going to call Tara.”

  “I see. Do you think Vord’s hair girlish, then?”

  “No sir.”

  “Different lands, different customs, Sako.”

  Vord looked on his son fondly. “You seem to have earned a name. Would you rather be ‘Brog the Girl’ or ‘Brog the Savage’?”

  “Neither! Just Brog!”

  “Keep the name, my son. It will frighten your enemies later in life. But these are not the enemy, are they?”

  “No, Ta.”

  “Come on Savage,” invited Sako with a smile. “Let’s go down to the docks.”

  The gang quickly accepted their new friend, and took to meeting in a partially disused warehouse on Dock Street.

  Eventually, they encountered another gang of young boys who had been driven out of their old playground near Crossbone Square by a group of older, larger boys. They agreed to join forces for mutual protection.

  Though the city was almost crime-free, there were constant scuffles and fights among the rowdy children. The Crossbone Square boys were Sev and Dol Bando, light haired Jonos; Olik Pango, who was a fat Jono, and an Agresian called Chos Tavven. Their leader was a Chain Islander named Afnir Sanfora, who quickly assumed overall command of the enlarged group.

  Where children in gentler towns rolled hoops and threw balls and played tag, those who grew up in Port Buxaca played Ambush or Swords. In Ambush, those in hiding were to pounce on “it” unless spotted first; in which case they joined forces with “it”. In Swords, they fought each other with sticks until one quit or was bloodied. Afnir was the best at Swords.

  On occasion they defended ‘their’ warehouse against other gangs, and so earned the grudging respect of the other boys of the city, and Afnir proved himself a worthy leader. They dreamed of one day getting a ship and forming their own Crew, of seeing strange places and capturing rich prizes.

  Years passed and the children grew and the older ones were beginning to be apprenticed off. Thard was the oldest, and was apprenticed to the surgeons, and Afnir went to sea on a Kimbulan runner, hoping to gain the skills necessary to one day have his own ship, with the Dock Street gang as his Crew. Tara Pizi blossomed into a lovely near-woman, with a beautiful smile.

  She was a great favorite in the taproom and dining rooms of the Dalarian Arms, and she never had to deal with more than harmless flirtations, due in part to Danno’s watchful eye, and in part to the protection of Sako’s gang. He was the only member with a sister, and they all felt special about her.

  4

  Sako’s Revenge

  Olik Pango was an orphan who slept in ‘their’ warehouse and earned his bread by doing messenger and courier work. Returning home from a late job up at Hangmen’s mansion, he was surprised and delighted to find a naked woman laying in an inviting posture in an alley. Neither old enough nor able to afford the services provided at the various cathouses, he stepped in for a closer look. His boot splashed in liquid, but she didn’t move. He lit a firestick on the rough stone wall and gaped in horror. The woman, girl really, had a slit throat, and he was standing in a pool of blood. Blood and bruising on her thighs showed what else had happened. Her clothes were piled next to her and her hands were tied over her head. This sort of thing wasn’t supposed to happen in Port Buxaca! Who was she? He recognized Tara just as the firestick burned down to his fingers. He knew it was her fifteenth birthday and she was to have celebrated it with her girlfriends who lived on this side of town. Olik covered her as best he could, and gathered her up to carry her home.

  Sako Pizi, now seventeen, was known for his friendly manner and easy smile. Relatively small but quick, he was also quite intelligent, able to calculate sums quickly and make proper change without effort. In the town on Swag Bay where the money of all nations was used indiscriminately, this was a necessary skill of any merchant. Sako had been pressed into duty behind the bar for the late crowd. The dinner rush was long over and only a few hardcore drinkers remained—those who preferred to do their drinking in the luxury and peace of the Arms. Sako was facing the door when Olik came in with Tara. Olik was already over 6 feet tall and had a voice to match his stature. He burst into the Dalarian Arms, shouting for the senior Pizis. He bulled on through the common room and into the Blue Parlor, with Sako at his heels. Only after his large friend had gently laid Tara on the nearest couch did Sako see what had been done. By the time his parents crashed into the room, Sako was already on his way through the taproom. Hung over the main fireplace was a pair of century-old Tayan infantry swords: thirty inches of straight, double-edged lethality. Sako took one and was out the door at a run. Olik briefly described how he’d found Tara before Danno sent him away.

  “Go and find Sako, boy!” cried the stricken father. “We’ve lost one; don’t let us lose both!” Olik was out the front door almost before he was a
ware of it.

  He knew he’d never catch Sako in a footrace; already the smaller boy was nowhere to be seen. Olik decided to round up the gang to aid in his search. Personally, he hoped Sako found the killer, and he hoped there was more than one…he was in the mood for a little vengeance himself. He quickly woke up Dason, Arno and Ellor, and briefed them on the situation.

  After a quick discussion, Arno was sent to get Drac, Sturo and Thard while the others headed for the Dock Street Tavern, as the most likely place Sako would’ve sought answers. It was agreed that the seven of them would have to be enough to provide backup for Sako, as it would take too long to rouse everyone. Olik briefly wished Afnir were present to provide direction, but their leader wasn’t due back in port for months.

  They asked at the Dock Street Tavern, and learned that Sako had appeared briefly but had left, going toward Crossbone Square. The Tradewinds gave the same news. From three separate taverns on the Square, Sako’s trail led uphill to the Sail on the Horizon Inn, where they finally caught up to their quarry.

  Sako left the Dalarian Arms without a plan, merely cold fury and a purpose. It was amazing that he could be so angry yet think so clearly. Someone has killed Tara! That alone was unthinkable; that she had been violated first was even more unbearable. His mind flinched away from what he’d seen. A tear ran down his cheek and he brushed it away angrily. No time for that. I’ll cry when this is done.

  Had she lived in a city where crime was more prevalent, Tara would have known better than to walk alone that late at night, but this thought never occurred to Sako. After all, this was Port Buxaca. Whoever he was looking for was probably older than he was—he knew everyone his own age and none but Olik would have been abroad that late. Not that there was a curfew per se, but children up to apprentice age would be escorted home in short order had they encountered a Red and Black patrol.

  Sako stepped into the raucous Dock Street Tavern and glanced around. Tara had smelled of rum and smoke…The Dock Street was the rowdiest, seediest establishment in Port Buxaca, the exact opposite of the Arms. Hands from all of the crews drank here and it was the most likely place for a brawl or duel challenge. No less than twelve Red and Blacks (men of the Sharks this month) stood around inside—drinking nothing and armed with short billet clubs. They were not to be argued with and ensured minimal property damage by stopping brawls quickly and forcing angry duelists to settle it outside. One man who wore the Red and Black armband noticed Sako, but an argument flared up at a nearby table, and he forgot the wild-eyed boy with the antique Tayan sword in the doorway.