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There are few things in life that Pogue loves more than watching his brother count gold. The spoils aren’t as plentiful as they’ve been in years past, but their recent raiding and gambling has given them a nice cushion for the weeks to come. Enough, at least, that he’ll get his wish — they won’t need to dock for a while. Once Kenz gets the booty metered out and dispersed, he rambles in Pogue’s ear about duty being booty, which nearly takes the fun out of all of it. Luckily for both of them, one of the things he does enjoy more than watching Kenz count gold is wrestling him.
It’s a risky endeavor for Pogue since his brother has an inch in height and several pounds on him, but what he lacks in brute strength, he makes up with finesse and cunning. With the right insults, Kenz becomes little more than a human battering ram. It makes him dangerous, sure, but also easy to trick.
Once he’s sated that particular thirst and proved to the few crew members that gathered to watch why he’s their Captain, Pogue spends some time relieving Renton at the helm. The sky is clear, the waters calm, and the horizon looks as tempting as any wench in any port. It’s times like these that Pogue can’t remember why he ever allows The Heartbreak to taste sand — but that reason becomes clear when another fight breaks out on deck.
“Oi!” he calls out, simply needing to gauge the seriousness. He recognizes two of his hands, Yao and Hadwin, pinning a wriggling Beldan, The Heartbreak’s cook, to the ground. “How’d he even get outta the galley?”
Weasel climbs up next to him and salutes, a little out of breath. “Well, Cap’n, Yao thinks Beldan gave ‘im grog for breakfast instead of fresh water.”
“The grog’s gotta be drank before it spoils too much,” Pogue comments, though he doesn’t blame Yao for wanting a little retribution for that. “Let ‘em fight it out. If it gets bloody, go find yer Quartermaster, savvy?”
“Aye, Cap’n!” Weasel says with a grin. He scampers off to watch the two hands struggle to keep the cook overpowered, and Pogue returns to his task. Based on the position of the sun, wind direction, and the general taste of the sea spray, he guesses they’re venturing a little too close to the Gracian Isles for comfort, so he barks commands to the crew members still doing their jobs and changes course. There’s a time and place for trips to the Isles, but this isn’t it.
Eventually, the three disperse and lick their wounds. Tensions relax as the sun begins to set on another day at sea, and Pogue’s thoughts drift to The Anguish. It’s been months since they’ve seen their sister ship and her fiery captain, but Pogue doubts they’re close enough to send a crow just yet. The last message he got from Henley suggested they were spending their time on the Torid seaboard, and with dozens of port cities ripe for the reaping, they’ll likely be there for a year. He’s got time to find her.
“Wystan, how are we on supplies?” he asks when the boatswain comes close enough. “How soon will we need to dock?”
“Depends, Sir. Are yeh plannin’ on raidin’ any ships we come across?”
He stares at the man until it’s clear he truly doesn’t know the answer. “Aye, but yeh know as well as I do that we can’t bank on a merchant vessel sailin’ close enough to us for that. Answer me question.”
“If we ration and slaughter the cows we brought aboard, then I’d wager we’ve got enough food to last another fortnight. Rum’ll dry up within the week at the rate this lot’s been guzzlin’.”
Pogue waves a hand. “We’ve got ale and beer, and as Yao found out this mornin’, grog. Hide the rum until the rest is gone.”
“Aye, Captain.” Wystan bows with a disappointed sneer but Pogue doesn’t pay it any mind; that’s just Wystan’s face most of the time. “Anything else?”
“Nah. We’re headed for Torid. Time to see what Henley’s been up to with her crew. Maybe give a nice reminder to Tiverport that The Heartbreak hasn’t forgotten them.”
Wystan blinks. “Tiver’s clear across the world, Captain.”
“So?” Pogue’s grip tightens on the spokes of the wheel as he leans in, challenging his boatswain. “Do yeh have somewhere better to be? I’d be happy to drop yeh off somewhere along the way. Maybe the Isle of Dread? That little spit of land in the middle of the Drovern where sailors offer up sacrifices to the kraken?”
“No, Sir,” he says quickly. “It’s just... the supplies...”
“Aye, the supplies. Yeh said yerself if we come round another ship, we can make it. We’ll just have to make sure we come round another ship,” Pogue says with a glint in his eye that promises everything his words omit. “It’s high season for the trading companies. We know their routes, their habits. Let’s take advantage of it.”
With a bow of his head, Wystan jumps down and relays the message to a tired Renton, who Pogue quickly dismisses. For once, Pogue feels great — he’s far enough from land that he doesn’t feel uneasy, his ship is in fantastic condition thanks to Ransley, and the doxies they took from Roxgard are finally comfortable. He has no intention of turning the helm back over to his sailing master until his legs give out.
Things continue like that for nearly a full week. He fucks, wrestles, sails, and drinks his fill until he finally hears what he’s been waiting for: “Sail, ho!”
Just don’t be Gnash, Pogue prays. Anyone but Gnash. “Identify!” he yells.
“White sails, Sir!” Keet hollers from the crow’s nest. “Smaller ship, no cannons!”
With a grin, Pogue snaps his fingers and sends Rat to go rouse Kenz. He’s not sure if his brother is awake or sleeping, but he needs his Quartermaster for this — and Kenz would kill him if he ever found out he slept through a raid.
As they prepare to moor alongside the merchant ship, Pogue holsters his weapons and tucks a blade between his teeth. With a quick wink to Kenz as he comes up, he’s yelling for his hands to get their grappling hooks and ropes, but just as they’re nearing their target, the ship takes off. Swearing, Pogue orders his gunners to take out the ship’s mainmast and yells at his riggers to get them moving again. He leans over the side to watch as one by one, Tella, Scarus, and Astaryn all attempt to hit their mark.
Tella’s blows a hole in the stern, but Astaryn’s hits home. He’s reminded once more why she’s the one he chose for the master gunner as she whoops and rubs it in Scarus’ face, who missed completely.
The mainmast splinters and hits the water with a gorgeous splash. With the ship all but disabled, Pogue once again readies himself to board. “Give no quarter,” he yells as they get close. “We don’t show mercy to cowards.”
“Aye, Captain!”
Kenz joins him with a wicked grin. “To the bottom of the sea, then?”
“To the depths of Gehenna itself,” Pogue replies. His grappling hook latches on to the side of the ship and he climbs up, fury in his eyes and one goal in his heart: take the ship and all aboard or send every last one of them to Tortan’s domain. The moment the last of the pirates’ boots hit the deck, Pogue holds up a hand. “Does your Captain wish to parley?”
“He does.” The small boy’s eyes dart to The Heartbreak’s black and red sails, then he visibly starts to shake. “Yer Captain Hallam.”
“Aye. Now run and tell your coward Captain that he’s got the same choice they all do: surrender his goods and his crew, or swim with the fishes.”
His own crew moves swiftly to capture theirs as the boy scrambles below deck. Pogue is tempted to take the offer back just because this Captain chose to hide instead of facing the threat — but a couple of the men aboard this ship look like runaway criminals, who are vastly more dangerous than merchant sailors. Fights lead to spoiled or spilled goods and dead pirates, and less hands to fill the voids on The Heartbreak.
When the Captain surfaces, his face is red and coated with sweat. “We wanted no trouble, Captain Hallam. Just mere merchants carrying wine to the Gracians. Nothin’ of interest to a fine Captain such as yerself.”
“Yeh know nothin’ of what interests me.” Pogue steps forward, making him flinch. “We’ll take yer men, yer boys, and yer goods. Give the order to yer men to stand down and maybe I’ll drop yeh off somewhere nice.”
“And if I don’t?”
The defiance in this merchant’s eyes tells Pogue all he needs to know. In one swift movement, he slices the man’s throat and turns to face the stunned crew. “Well, I think that answers his question. Yer First Mate have anything ta say?”
A burly sailor steps forward and shakes his head. “No, Sir. We surrender. No need for bloodshed on a doomed ship.”
“Smart man.” Pogue whistles to the hands that stayed behind on The Heartbreak. “Drop the gangplank! Prepare for transfer!”
Kenz shoves the man he’d been holding a blade to and snaps an order for him to get the wine first and food second. It takes the better part of an hour to go through the goods on board and decide what’s worth taking and what they should let sink, then Pogue takes a minute to talk to the criminals. They make the best pirates, after all, and a fair few already have experience in that department, so he takes a chance and lets them come aboard.
Two of the newcomers end up spending the night in the brig for refusing to call him Captain, but by morning, they’d learned their lesson thoroughly enough that they offer to warm his bed as an apology — one he readily accepts. He’s content to waste all day with the two of them until his brother nearly breaks down the door knocking on it.
“What?” Pogue snaps.
“Feck off, Captain. Yeh know I wouldn’t interrupt yeh if it weren’t important.”
Sighing, Pogue untangles himself from the mess of limbs and wraps his long coat around himself before opening the door. “Go on, then. What’s so important yeh had to break me door down?”
He flashes a rolled-up parchment held between two fingers. “Little crow just dropped a present on me head,” Kenz says with a sneer.
Pogue straightens up. “Is it from Henley?”
“Nah, Captain. It’s from that quim Arley Gnash.”
~
“THE FECK DOES HE WANT now?” Pogue asks, snatching the parchment and unrolling it. His eyes dart over the words multiple times before he finally meets Kenz’s eyes again. “Who the feck is Abesti?”
“How the feck would I know? And why doesn’t this quim give more bloody information?” Kenz snatches the paper back again to read it. “Kidnappin’ gig. I will send him to Gehenna meself, P.”
Pogue huffs. “Get in line. Gather the crew, see if anyone from either ship has ever heard of a man named Abesti. I was... nearly done.”
“Aye.” Kenz slaps Pogue upside the head and peeks inside the room, getting a good look at the two men in his brother’s bed before he takes off to do as told.
Most of their men are useless; Scarus claims Abesti is the King of the Sea, while his wife argues Abesti isn’t the King, he’s just a demon that eats men’s cocks. Kenz moves on with the notion they don’t have a clue what they’re talking about and heads to Alcott down below. He’s older and set in his ways, but he has a memory of steel. “Smells good. What’re yeh cookin?”
“The last of the edible vegetables and one of the chickens we brought aboard.” He offers Kenz a bit of roasted potato, and he takes it, nearly forgetting why he came. “Oi. Yeh ever heard of someone named Abesti?”
Alcott freezes, then goes back to what he was doing with a soft chuckle. “Didn’t yer father ever tell ya the stories? Thought they were a part of every kid’s life who grew up at sea.”
“Reks told us all kinds of stories. Which one are yeh referring to, exactly?” Kenz reaches over for some more food and leans against the wall to listen, ignoring the look the chef gives him.
“They say he was born with the sea itself,” Alcott begins in a hushed whisper. “Not Abesti, he comes in later. Jasterion. A creature half man, half fish, but not like any merman yeh’ve ever laid eyes on. He’s a god, same as Acuan himself. Fierce as can be with eyes like the deepest, meanest iceberg, and a three-forked spear that’ll gut you and yer friends all at once. Yeh remember that story, boyo?”
Kenz smiles down at his shoes. Being called “boyo” brings back far too many memories of his dad, and as he listens to Alcott, he feels like exactly that: a boy, hanging onto the words of myths. “Aye... refresh me memory. Does he have a cock?”
“A great big fat one that’d split yeh in two,” Alcott says seriously. “But, they say he took a lover. Just one, outta all the humans and sea creatures alive, he only took one: Abesti. A siren. Capable of luring any man to his death, any fish in for slaughter.”
“Fecking siren. Y’know I fecked one before,” Kenz lies, knowing damned well he wouldn’t be alive to tell the tale. “Fecked his throat so hard he’ll never sing again.”
Alcott chuckles. “Aye, I’m sure yeh did, boyo. But not Abesti. From the time he was birthed into this world, he belonged to Jasterion. Why the sudden interest in sirens?”
“Gnash sent a birdy. Needs us to capture someone named Abesti but didn’t give no more than that. He sendin’ us to an early death?” Kenz stands tall again as the sudden realization of how difficult this mission is going to be slaps him in the face like a scorned woman.
“I ‘spose that depends. Do yeh believe in legends, boyo? That’s all they are, just legends,” Alcott says.
“No, they’re not,” Beldan argues. He’s nursing a cut on his eyebrow but looks more serious than Kenz has ever seen him. “They’re real. Still alive, even today.”
“Yeh seen ‘em with yer own eyes?” Kenz asks. Beldan’s always been one for the dramatics, but something about his tone sets Kenz on edge.
“Aye. Took me brothers, all of ‘em. Haven’t yeh ever wondered why I ended up on yer ship?” Beldan asks.
“Thought yeh was runnin’ from a woman.” It’s an ill-timed joke, but he doesn’t even know where to begin on the subject of losing brothers. Kenz would burn the world to the ground for his. “Did yeh hear ‘em, then? Their song?”
“Aye.” Beldan’s expression darkens as he grapples with that particular memory. “They left me alive. To this day, I don’t know why. Wish they wouldn’t have.”
“Don’t say that. Yeh woulda never met me and I’m fecking beautiful.” Kenz clasps his shoulder and heads over to see Astaryn, but she isn’t in her usual spot so he enters her quarters without knocking and earns himself a punch in the nose. “Oi! Fecking quim! Just wanted to ask a bloody question!”
“What question?” she snaps without an apology. “I was busy.”
“Busy what? Wankin’ it?” He looks around for a doxie but comes up short. “Yeh believe in sirens?”
She spits to the right of his boot. “Aye. And if yeh don’t, yeh haven’t been at sea long enough. How’s it that yer brother hasn’t told yeh?”
“Told me what?” Kenz asks, all humor gone from his face. He and Pogue don’t have secrets, why would he keep anything from him? Especially something this huge? He kept his toy a secret, his mind reminds him, and he crowds Star’s space. “Tell me.”
“If yeh think I’m thick enough to get in the middle of the Hallam brothers, yeh don’t know me at all. Go ask him yerself, Quartermaster.”
She puts a rough hand on his chest and pushes him back, but he doesn’t need the help. He’s out of her room and in the hallway in seconds, shoving past people all the way to his brother’s quarters. Kenz’s eye is already blackening from Astaryn’s jab, but the dull ache is dwarfed by the questions shouting in his mind as he enters yet another room without knocking. “Pogue. There somethin’ I should know? Somethin’ about siren quims?”
Pogue clenches his jaw and sits back in his chair, gesturing to the one on the other side of his desk. “Sit, Kenz. I was just workin’ out our position.”
“This position a fecking secret too? Since apparently we have those.” He sits anyway, his arms crossed to show he’s not happy about it, but hearing what his brother knows is slightly more important than his pride.
“No, our position isn’t a secret. The map is right here.” He gestures in front of him and eyes Kenz with suspicion. “Yeh were a child the last time we ran afoul of sirens. I’m not surprised yeh don’t remember, though they nearly took yeh from us. Sang their pretty, wretched song, and yeh wouldn’t keep yer plugs in yer ears. Yeh jumped overboard, Kenz.” He stops there, but the pain on his face tells Kenz this story is far from over. Anger dissipates as he watches his brother, knowing this isn’t a memory Pogue likes thinking about at all, let alone talking about. “Yeh drowned, Kenz. Strongest swimmer I’ve ever known, even then, and yeh drowned.” He rubs his jaw, sucking in a deep breath as Kenz tries to remember. “Took me nearly four minutes ta bring yeh back.”
“But yeh did. Been a pain in yer ass since, brother.”
“Aye, I did. But I vowed that night under every star in the godsforsaken sky that I’d never go near those waters again. Now tell me, Kenz, what’s got yeh askin’ about sirens?”
Suddenly, Kenz regrets barging in without regard; surely there’s a better time to have this conversation, but he won’t leave his Captain in suspense any longer. “Turns out Abesti is a siren. Property of some sea king.”
“Sea king. Jasterion? He’s dead,” Pogue says flatly. “Been dead for longer than yeh can wrap yer head around, at least according to most. But if Abesti is a siren, then yer gonna get yer wish. Gnash’s head will decorate the bowsprit by the end of the week.”
“What makes yeh so sure he’s dead? And why the feck would Gnash be tanglin’ in this shit?” They have more questions than answers, and it’s so frustrating Kenz growls and lays back on Pogue’s bed.
“If he were still alive, he’d have sunk The Heartbreak for what our father did to those sirens. He thought yeh were dead. If he’s really their king, don’t yeh think he’d have sought revenge by now?”
“Aye. I would.” Kenz sits up on his elbows so he can see his brother. “Was Ma around then?”
Pogue nods once. “That was the last season we had with her before the sickness claimed her. Father tried to get help from a mage who swore he could save her, but she was dead before sunrise. I’ll never be convinced he didn’t kill her.”
“You got him though, brother. He won’t kill any more mothers thanks to you.” Kenz remembers Pogue’s first kill better than his own, and it seems his brother does, too.
“Wasn’t fast enough,” Pogue mutters darkly. “Should’ve got him before he got her. Things would be different if I had.”
“Aye. But yeh were just a kid, P. Only so much yeh could do since Pa kept us on the sea. Hardly ever stepped foot on sand after her.”
He smiles for the first time. “Still wouldn’t if yeh didn’t love it so much,” he admits. “No spit of land in Qadia could compete with the seas, and we’re fools for tryin’ to make ‘em.”
Kenz opens his mouth to respond, but yelling from above them interrupts him. “I’ll go see what the feck they’re blabberin’ on about. Yeh good?”
“Aye. Are we good?” he asks as he stands. “I wasn’t meanin’ to keep secrets from yeh. Just not a memory I feel like sharing much.”
“I get it now. I just... I don’t like secrets and I thought this was one. It wasn’t. Not yer fault I can’t remember.” Kenz slaps his shoulder and ducks from the room, hustling to the upper deck to see what all the commotion is. “The feck is—” He sees it before he finishes his question, and the smile that spreads across his face is one that makes him glad no one is looking at him. It’s been far too long since he’s seen Henley. “Oi, Captain!” Kenz yells. “The Anguish is here!”