Free Scimitar Sun by Chris A. Jackson

belie her age.
    “Why don’t you bring that bottle to my cabin, and we’ll discuss it.”
    “Aye, sir.” She stood and took the bottle by the neck, her thin frame wobbling a bit as she stepped over the bench.
    “Hold fast there, mate,” he said, his broad hand slipping around her slim waist. “Wouldn’t want to lose you.”
    “No worries there, Captain,” she said, smiling up at him with a glint in her bright young eyes. “You couldn’t lose me if you tried.”
    The door to the captain’s cabin closed with a quiet click of the latch. The first mate, Farin, kept on snoring.

Chapter Five
    Diplomacy’s Course
    “Impressive.” Count Norris’ appreciative smile appeared genuine. “You can haul three ships up for repair and still house one under construction in the lofting shed? Very impressive indeed!”
    “Aye, we could haul three ships, though we never seen the need, yer graceship,” Dura said, trying to match the count’s ambling gait but fidgeting like a race horse in a draft harness. Camilla had warned her to be on her best behavior, yet not overly accommodating concerning the new ship designs. “And the ways ain’t so big as to haul a decent-sized galleon, like Seven Sisters or Winter Gale , fer instance. They do fine fer Mistress Flaxal’s schooners, but that’s about as big as we go.”
    “Big enough to haul corsairs, no doubt,” he said, arching an eyebrow. “Isn’t that what the late Captain Bloodwind used them for, I mean?”
    “Aye, that ‘e did, yer graceship, but we tore that old piece of—I mean, the old ways, apart. It weren’t in good repair, and was cobbled together like a court document to begin with.” She hawked and spat in distaste. “Ghelfan don’t put up with shoddy equipment in his yard.”
    “So I’ve heard.” The count turned to the lofting shed and guided the tour toward it.
    “Most of what was once Bloodwind’s has been completely removed or refurbished,” Camilla added, gesturing across the bay toward the tidy collection of huts that had replaced the shantytown burned in the attack. “The local natives aren’t much for organization, but they work well under Dura’s direction.”
    “Aye, they ain’t lazy, I’ll give ‘em that! And they know one end of an adze from another, which is more’n I can say fer some green hands I’ve trained.” Dura stuffed her hands in her pockets and recalled, “Why I knew one feller who chopped off two toes the first time he—”
    “Dura, the count really doesn’t want to hear—”
    “And what are you currently building in there?” the count interrupted, gesturing to the closed lofting shed. “Another schooner?”
    “Na. Jest one of Mistress Flaxal’s silly projects.” Dura chuckled and shook her shaggy head. “She comes up with some of the damnedest—”
    “I’d very much like to see it.” The count’s eyes slid to Camilla’s. His tone was light, but his manner clearly dared her to deny him anything.
    “Surely, Count. We have no secrets here.” His sly court manner was wearing on her. Despite the way she’d seemingly won him over the previous night, by this morning the formality had returned. He seemed determined to examine every nook and cranny of the ship yard and to not believe a single word she said. “Have a care where you place your feet. I wouldn’t want you to get creosote on those lovely shoes.”
    “Thank you, Lady Camilla. I’ll step with care.”
    Dura guided them through the small side door of the building and ushered them into her domain. Camilla knew that Cynthia had come up with another new design, but had not paid much attention to the details. Now, with the nearly finished hulls towering over her head, she gaped inwardly, despite her outward composure.
    “What in the name of—” The count stopped short, looking first at one narrow hull, then the other, then at the arched beams of laminated wood that united the two. “I’m sorry, but what manner of construction is this? It