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There are few things in the world that have rendered Kenz Hallam speechless... and this is one of them. He doesn’t say a word the entire trek back to the port because he truly doesn’t know what to say. All of this is his fault, all of this is what he deserves.
When he climbs in the jolly boat, he hears Henley tell Brellen to take them aboard, and even though a part of him wants to tell her not to come, he can’t bring himself to say the words. By the time he’s back in his quarters, he snaps out of his daze and turns to look at her. “Why the feck did I come here?”
“Be more specific. To Tiev? To yer bed? Or ta me?” Henley crosses her arms and leans against the door. “Gettin’ real mixed signals from yeh, Kenz.”
He closes the distance and meets her gaze. “I meant to me damn quarters. There’s work ta do out there and I wasn’t thinkin’. Let’s just go back. Don’t got no right to be a quim about this.”
“I’m sorry,” she blurts out. “Yeh wouldn’t be in this spot if I wouldn’t have needed savin’. So... I’m sorry, and thank you.” She blushes, then puts a hand on her stomach and gags before racing out of his quarters toward the loo.
“Fecking hell, Hen.” Kenz follows her there but she slams the door in his face, which he decides is probably for the best. He leans against it, and when he can hear she’s done, he chooses his words carefully. “Hen, don’t be sorry. If I knew I’d be here back then, I’d still make the same decision. I don’t regret savin’ yeh, I never will.”
She opens the door and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Then quit actin’ like a newborn guppy and get yer ass above deck.”
Kenz stares at her a moment longer and then turns to do just that without argument. He’s a Hallam, and sulking isn’t the Hallam way.
Staying busy is easy. The second Kenz’s feet touch sand, he can see their crew hard at work and he falls into step with them as they clear debris and put out fires. He hates fires, but they keep him so focused on the task at hand that he loses track of time altogether. When the last fire is out, he notices the sun has shifted so far in the sky he’s sure evening is approaching and he makes his way over to his brother. “Any orders, Captain? Things are already lookin’ better, but it’s gonna take more than a day ta fix the damage those quims did.”
“Aye.” Pogue wipes the sweat from his brow and some of the dirt from his bare chest. “We need ta talk, Kenz. I’ve been thinkin’ about how ta best use certain recent events to our advantage.”
“Listenin’,” Kenz replies, looking around to ensure there’s no ears close enough to hear something before their time. “This about the pardon, P?”
He smiles and taps the side of his nose. “Knew me brother was still in there somewhere. Look around yeh, Kenz. Tiev is ripe fer the takin’, and the poofy quims in that mansion up north want all us pirates to take their pardon. I think I sense a change in the wind fer us Hallams.”
Kenz snorts a little at the word poofy but he pulls it together quickly, especially after his brain catches up to the last bit. “Aye? Yeh reckon we make Tiev ours for real?”
“We’re doin’ all the heavy lifting, aren’t we?” Pogue points behind Kenz to the rest of the crew still rebuilding. “What would’ve happened if the Hallams hadn’t showed up when we did? Tiev would be gone, and them fecking Thorps and Barlows and Tacks and Karvers would be on their way ta the rest of Ekretor. We did those quims a favor, if yeh ask me. And the others, like the Laywards and the Solomons... they’ll follow our lead. We take the pardon, they will too.”
Kenz nods his head as he takes in exactly what his brother is saying, but even though he trusts him completely, he still has questions. “This mean we gotta give up pirating?”
For a solid thirty seconds, Pogue looks as confused as Kenz has ever seen him — his jaw is slack and brows are furrowed, though he recovers eventually and wiggles his finger in his ear. “Sorry, Kenz. Thought yeh said we were gonna give up bein’ Hallams. We’re feckin’ pirates, yeh fool. We tell the damned Lord Protector and his fancy cunts that we’ll play along, but we tell ‘em we’ll only take the deal if they give us Tiev. We take the deal, take Tiev, and keep the feckin’ seas.”
The relieved sigh he releases comes out more dramatic than intended, but for a moment, Kenz feared the pardon was actually something his brother was considering. “Tortan’s fecking drawers. Thought yeh hit yer head or somethin’, Cap.” He reaches out to twist his brother’s nipple and compliments his exposed rack.
“Ah! Yeh feckin’—” Pogue shoves him and rubs the spot, then looks down to check the piercing there. “Yer a little shit, yeh know that? Yeh know they’re sensitive.”
“Poor wee Captain. He’s sensitive,” Kenz teases and tries to reach for the other, needing some normalcy in his day.
Unfortunately, he actually gets what he wants, and Pogue grabs his hand and bites his finger hard. “Yer a child, Makenzie!”
“Feck off! Yeh can’t just toss that bloody name around, yeh quim!” Kenz whispers sharply and shakes out his hand before moving to get his brother in a headlock. “And Ma always said no fecking biting.”
“Ma’s not here!” Pogue wheezes. “She’d tell me ta bite yeh if she knew what a f— ahh!” He throws all of his body weight into flipping Kenz over, then lands awkwardly on top of him.
It knocks the wind out of him enough to halt any retaliation. Kenz groans, coughing slightly and staying right where he landed. “Captain Q-Quim!”
“Really fecking clever.” Pogue grunts, shoving him off and rolling onto all fours. His breathing is ragged and he reaches up to hold his ribs, then sticks his tongue out at Kenz like a child. “Too old fer this.”
“Yes, you are,” Wayke says, and Kenz looks over to see him standing a few feet away with his arms crossed and a strange expression.
Kenz cackles and stays exactly where he is. His breathing is normal now, but he still doesn’t care to stand, despite Pogue getting to his feet. “Go have old people sex, yeh dusty fecks.”
“Two years, Kenz. I’m two years older.” He huffs, but pulls Wayke in to distract himself. “Our old, dusty sex is gonna have ta wait. I need to talk to the crew.”
The reminder is what finally makes Kenz stand and push aside the little brother in him. Big changes might be coming, and he needs to be focused for them. “Aye, want me ta gather the troops, Captain?”
“Get ‘em all back aboard. We’re gonna need them locked and ready ta go if the negotiations go south.” Pogue kisses Wayke’s cheek, and judging by the utter lack of curiosity on his face, Kenz starts to wonder if he wasn’t the first to know about Pogue’s plan.
Surprisingly, he finds himself unbothered by it. Quite the contrary, he smiles at the fact that his brother has someone to talk to as he walks back to yell for their crew.
It isn’t long before the last of them climbs aboard and Kenz takes a stance behind Henley as Pogue readies his speech. He can feel her weight against him, only causing his concern for her to grow. Could any bad meat still be in her system with how much she’s vomited? Is it more than that? Before he can ask her how she’s truly feeling, Pogue jumps up on a pallet and clears his throat.
Kenz makes sure to watch their crew as his brother lays out their options, and he’s happy to see their uncertainties fade away as the minutes pass. They all know this is a courtesy; Pogue could tell them what they’re doing and every one of them would have to play along, but instead he’s here trying to include them in the plan.
“Now. Make no mistake, this is the path The Heartbreak is taking. The choice before yeh is this: stay, and reap the rewards, or see yerselves out. Yeh’ve got me word that no harm will come to yeh if yeh choose ta leave. Savvy?”
“Aye, Captain,” most of them say, but not one of them makes a move to leave.
After a moment, Astaryn walks out in front of the small crowd and draws her cutlass. “My sword will always fight under the Hallam flag. Who do you ballsacks fight for?” she yells.
“Hallam!” every one of them responds, and for the first time in a long time, Kenz doesn’t doubt a single one of them.
~
POGUE COUNTS HIMSELF among the lucky that Astaryn is with him and not against him. Her standing for him reminds him that not everyone did, but the ones remaining from Wystan’s betrayal deserve his time and energy just as much as plots and schemes. With that in mind, he spends most of the next day with Renton, Ransley, Gil, Drak, Beldan, Yao, Keet, and the handful of others that chose not to desert him. They drink at Teag’s Tavern and celebrate seeing Breg back where he belongs, happy and healthy, then Pogue uses his own purse to buy each of them a companion for a night. It’s a good reminder that his crew is his family, too — and he’s disappointed in himself that it took an attempted mutiny and for Kenz to spawn offspring with a witch for him to remember it.
The day after that, he locks himself in his quarters with Wayke. Pogue spends more time than he’d care to admit apologizing now that his partner has seen a very different side of him, though after the first hour or so, he only apologizes because Wayke is so sweet when he does.
There’s a knock at the door that interrupts them and makes Pogue growl. Wayke chuckles and kisses his chest, calls him a pet name that he’ll never allow to be uttered outside of that room, then rolls out of his embrace to get dressed just in time for Kenz to open the door uninvited.
“Crow came back, Captain. Time ta go.”
Sighing, Pogue dresses and kisses Wayke goodbye before following his brother back up the hatch and to the upper deck. “Grab Star and Henley. Best we have backup just in case things go south.”
“Aye.” Kenz nods, and all trace of the boyish, outlandish persona he’s let loose the last few days is gone, replaced by the cutthroat Hallam he needs to be for this.
They travel to Beckwith’s office in relative silence. None have their cutlasses or swords with them so they don’t attract too much of the wrong attention, but Pogue knows without asking that every one of them is armed to the teeth under their long coats. It’s hard to ignore the possibility that this might all be a trap.
Still, they keep their heads high and their eyes open as they’re led inside the parliament building and to the grand meeting room. Pogue’s never felt more out of place in his life, and some of the sconces on the wall awaken the treasure-hunter in him that’s normally sated by port town raids and the occasional shipwreck, but he reminds himself sternly that the greatest treasure of all is Tiev.
“Pogue and Kenz Hallam,” a smug little man says from behind a bench. “You’ll forgive me for not allotting you any kind of honorific — I’m told the old adage that pirates abide by a code is largely outdated.”
“Not us,” Pogue says quietly. “Keep yer fancy titles, we’re not here for yer respect. Yeh don’t have ours at any rate, and fair seems fair. We’re here about Beckwith’s pardon.”
The man tsks. “We’ve got the Hallams on a list of charges so long it would wrap twice around your decrepit little ship. Tell me why our Lord Protector would consider extending such a courtesy to the likes of you?”
When Kenz shifts like he’s about to give him a true Hallam answer, Pogue raises his hand. The sunlight peeking through the window hits the heavy rings on his fingers in just the right way to draw his attention briefly, and he’s reminded that he still has yet to tattoo those last two fingers. Is today the day? he wonders. And where will they go? The place where I meet my end, or the location of the place I sold me crew out? “Yeh need us,” Pogue says finally. “Yeh know it’s true, or yeh’d have arrested us outright and seen us hanged. We can save ourselves a lot of trouble by not lyin’ to each other, Mister...”
“Never you mind what my name is. I don’t wish to bring the wrath of pirates down on my family if Lord Beckwith chooses to make a decision you’re not happy with.” He pauses with a gruesome sneer, then gestures behind him. “He’ll see the Captain, and only the Captain.”
“Aye.” Pogue steps forward and nods to his companions. He’d been ready for this and had warned them that such a request might be made — and he’d given them orders, too. If Pogue should fall or be imprisoned, they’re to take out every last government official they can find and torch the place when they’re done. Pogue hopes it doesn’t come to that if for no other reason than he doesn’t think Kenz can handle another fire, but he knows his brother will do it regardless of a few childhood nightmares. “Lead the way.”
The Lord Protector’s office is grand and almost entirely marble. It’s so excessive that it turns him off — mainly because he can’t pilfer marble flooring or windowsills — but he plasters an impressed smile on his face as he sits across from Beckwith himself nonetheless.
“So. You’ve come to take the pardon,” he says. “What exactly makes you think I’d believe the Hallams are going to give up piracy?”
Pogue leans forward. “I don’t. I don’t think that. But every man has a price, includin’ a Hallam. We’re willin’ ta sign yer papers and swear off looting and raiding forever if yeh pay our price.”
“And?” Beckwith taps his finger impatiently. “What is that price?”
“Tiev.”
Silence stretches between them as that single word works its way into the Lord Protector’s mind. “Tiev. As in... Port Tiev? The whole thing?”
“Aye, the whole thing. Let’s be level with each other, Beckwith. It’s a nasty pain in the arse fer you, and a bit of a home away from home fer us. Yeh know the raids yeh heard about down there thanks to yer push to end our way of life?”
“Yes. I’ve heard the city was near ruin when Martext and his men showed up.”
Pogue slaps Beckwith’s desk with an open palm, letting frustration get the better of him. “No. Check the damned reports again. Martext never even showed his quim face. The Heartbreak’s crew saved that city, no one else. We singlehandedly put an end to the Thorps, the Barlows, the Karvers, and the Tacks. If Caliban Martext were capable of such a thing, wouldn’t he have done it before they set fire ta half yer country?”
“So why should we cave now? You said yourself just now that you took out four of the pirate crews scourging our seas. Seems as though you’ve played your hand prematurely, Captain Hallam.”
Thankfully, Pogue had been expecting this. “Aye, maybe. But we didn’t take out those crews outta some ploy ta get anything from anyone. We did it ‘cause we belong in Port Tiev just as much as Akriva. We did the right thing fer once, Beckwith. Are yeh gonna punish us for it, or are yeh gonna remember that there are more crews out there like the Barlows, and more crews out there like us?”
The reminder that the Hallams have friends and the government has countless enemies seems to give Beckwith reason to pause. “So we give the Hallams Port Tiev, and you... what, exactly? Get added to our payroll? Do what you’re bid, when you’re bid it? Or is this just a clever ploy?”
“Well, my illustrious and bonny Lord Protector, that much is up ta you. Yeh give us Tiev and stay outta our business, and maybe we’ll be inclined ta help yeh when yeh need it. But the Hallams answer ta no one. Just ask Arley Gnash if yeh find yerself losin’ yer head and end up where he did.”
Beckwith pales. “That was your crew? There were rumors, to be sure, but Gnash assured me that the Three Kingdoms Trading Company had the Hallams well in tow. I’d assumed it was an accident, or a...”
“No. ‘Twas us, with the sea god Jasterion at our backs. Now tell me, Beckwith. Do yeh fancy yerself the type of man that can withstand a sea god’s wrath? He owes us one, yeh see. And I’ve come here with truth on me tongue and an honest attempt ta play by the rules, but make no mistake. I’m a Hallam, and one way or another, we always get our due.” Pogue stands, snatching the quill from Beckwith’s desk and twirling it in his fingers. “What’ll it be, then? Yay... or nay?”
Every inch of the Lord Protector tenses, but Pogue knows a trapped and beaten man when he sees one. He opens the drawer to his right and pulls out a piece of parchment, then calls for a witness and a magistrate. Twenty tense minutes later, Pogue signs the pardon outlining their terms to the letter.
“Congratulations, Governor Hallam. Port Tiev is yours.”