The docks of North Port were nearly empty, and Terryll's booming voice carried across the water. "Yardarms for lateen sails on all masts! All barrels of ale and wine go. Leave one barrel of water in the cargo hold for the Earl's men. We'll replenish the scuttlebutt from the river for ourselves. Offload the secondary anchor, any extra chain, square sails, and all personal items that aren't on your back. We want as much freeboard as we can manage. Timms, Bemus, Evander, Langnorne, Dayton...you've earned three days of shore leave. Your only duty is to stay here in North Port and keep yourselves sober enough to make sure no one steals our belongings. Double wages if you can manage it. Those of you staying onboard get triple wages, but you're gonna have to work, men. Mount the oarlocks and be ready to row. Let's move. The Earl returns within the hour."
Alwyn picked up where Terryll left off and set the men to working with gruff orders. When everyone was moving, he climbed the stern castle stairs to stand beside Terryll and look over the now quiet harbor.
"This is no easy task the Earl has given us, Cap'n."
"No, it's not, mate," Terryll conceded. "There's nothing for it, though. If I'd refused the Earl's bidding, he would have seized our ship and gone up river without us, and the Passions know we'd never see her again. We'll do as we're told, and if all works well, Lord Verk will reward us for our efforts. In any case, we'll get him upstream, be done with him, and sail off to the south islands for a long vacation. I'm paying for dark-teated whores all around."
"You're a good cap'n," Alwyn said, clapping Terryll onthe back. "The men aren't happy about off-loading the ale, but you're a goodcap'n nonetheless."
YOU ARE READING
On the Black Wind to Baldairn Motte
FantasyPlunged into a war of succession, Terryll Payce, captain of the Black Wind, and Lyrie, a whore from a high-end brothel, are forced into the service of the powerful Earl. Ensnared in a tangle of bargains and betrayal, Terryll and Lyrie fight for surv...
