Free The Wrath of a Shipless Pirate (The Godlanders War) by Aaron Pogue Page A

understand how cruel this man has been. Who of us could bear to step into his role? Even as a farce. No. We won’t.”
    Corin licked his lips. “That’s fine. That’s fine. I will remove him all the same.”
    “But how?”
    “Where does he hide? Can you at least tell me that much?”
    “He lives aboard his ship, the Espinola . As far as we can tell, he never leaves. Magistrates and justices and even local lords will sometimes come and go, but they speak only with his concierge.”
    “Then how can they even know they’re truly dealing with the Captain’s man?”
    “Those who defy the orders they receive invariably … suffer. Lord Béthané’s manor burned to the ground, his wife and child still inside it. The Marquis’s prize thoroughbreds were butchered to the last and left to rot in their own paddocks.
    Corin shuddered. “This sounds like Dave Taker and h is me n.”
    “And those who obey their orders are handsomely rewarded. But it is fear, not love, that grants the Captain and his First Mate such authority.”
    Corin spent a moment thinking. “What has been tried already?”
    “The Marquis did send a plea to the court at Pri for aid.”
    Corin scoffed. “And I suspect they answered that this was a local matter.”
    “To be resolved by local authorities. Exactly so. Lord Béthané roused his own armed militia to take the ship or sink it.”
    Corin sighed. “And his militia was cut down. Did they even make it to the piers?”
    “Only a handful. Most of them died in the streets while crossing town.”
    Corin nodded. “Aye. I’d have done the same. But what has the Nimble Fingers done?”
    Surprise and incomprehension reigned in the innkeeper’s expression. “The Nimble Fingers? We have done everything within our power to keep concealed and keep alive.”
    “You haven’t fought him? When he’s been hanging your people in the streets?”
    “We’re thieves. We aren’t soldiers.”
    Corin stopped himself short of shouting. Would he have done anything, before he rose to captain of a pirate ship? Likely not. Even then, it might have been the visit to Jezeeli that finally forged him into a man of action.
    But now he had seen too clearly the cost of inaction in the face of tyranny. Such monsters knew no bounds, and any price was a fair one if it could strip them of their power.
    Corin closed his hand around the grip of the sword Godslayer and caught the innkeeper’s eye. “This darkness is nearly at an end. But first, I ask you to prepare me something warm and rich to eat, and pick out a room for me.”
    “You will rest? Now?”
    “It has been two months since I last had something real to eat, longer since I slept. Besides, it will take some time for my plan to be set in motion.”
    “Then you have devised a plan?”
    “I have.”
    “Will you tell it?”
    Corin thought a moment and shrugged. “It is very much like Béthané’s except that I will go alone. And I will do what he cou ld no t.”
    “How?”
    Corin grinned. “In much the same way I defeated Josef here. I am one of them, and I am worse than them. They will never see me coming.”

    Corin set out at dawn, with encouragement from the innkeeper and a hearty breakfast warming his belly. He had to cross half the town again to reach the port, but this time he didn’t skulk. He went boldly by the light of day, and his longblack cloak flared around him. He pretended not to notice when a deckhand from Bad Brandon’s crew recognized him. Carl? Cane? Something of the sort. From the corner of his eye, Corin watched the man’s burst of recognition shift to surprise, and surprise to dark ambition . After all, there would be some reward to the man who informed the First Mate that Corin Hugh was in town.
    So Corin marched on, apparently oblivious, as Carl or Cane or Connor—whoever he was—sprinted off toward the docks. Corin allowed himself a fraction of a smile as he went on.
    Three more old acquaintances repeated Carl’s performance, and