Free World-Ripper War (Mad Tinker Chronicles Book 3) by J.S. Morin Page B

promises.”
    “Well, we always have the machines none of the others know about.” Draksgollow smiled.

    Three men and a lad sat together in a private booth of one of Marker’s Point’s better known and oft avoided taverns. The lamps created more shadow than light, and a three-piece musician’s troupe played a lively melody that kept conversations from spilling far from the tables where they belonged. It was a place for doing business more than making merriment, and were it not for the flow of ale and liquor into the patrons, there might have been little good humor within its walls.
    “Can’t believe I’m selling you a ship, Zayne,” said a thick, neckless man in a grubby leather vest and three days’ beard. He hoisted a tankard the size of a pitcher and offered a solitary toast before downing a huge swallow. His companion was slim and quiet, keeping his hands below the table and rarely touching his drink.
    “We all have our days, Sanson. Besides, how many of you lot can claim to have sunk one of the Mad Tinker’s smoke ships?” Zayne replied. He had replaced his wardrobe since arriving in Marker’s Point. His shirtsleeves gleamed white, and the jacket that hung from a peg at the tableside was starched and pressed immaculately.
    “Ya got me there,” Sanson replied. “A lesser man, I’d say he’s full ‘o piss, but the likes of you ain’t got nothin’ to prove.”
    “How soon will she be ready?”
    “Soon as you get me my price.”
    “I’ll have it this evening. We’ll make the exchange on deck.”’
    Sanson’s partner narrowed his eyes. “You ain’t thinkin’ anything, Cap’n, are you?”
    “Why Jimmony, I was scarcely aware you remembered,” Zayne said, breaking into a smile. “No, this will be nothing like my acquisition of the Fair Trader . If nothing else, I never expect the same trick to work twice. Besides, I have no quarrel with you and coin in plenty to pay for it.”
    “You’ve always been good as your word, Zayne,” said Sanson. He stuck a meaty hand across the table. “It’s a deal.”
    Zayne took the offered hand and shook it. Sanson was a swindler and a thug as circumstances demanded, but he was also a wise man. Dealing with Captain Denrik Zayne made thieves and pirates rich men; crossing him was most often fatal. “Agreed.”
    “Your boy don’t say much,” said Jimmony. “He a mute?”
    The corner of Zayne’s mouth twitched. “You have a problem if he is?”
    Jimmony leaned away and shook his head.
    “He didn’t mean nothin’, Zayne,” Sanson said. “Jimmony won’t be at the meet tonight.” He turned to his companion. “Will ya?” Jimmony shook his head.
    “I’m not,” said Jadon. “I am my father’s apprentice. I watch. I listen. Speaking out of turn is for fools.”
    Sanson snickered and Jimmony shot the lad a hate-filled look. At sixteen, Jadon had the height of a man, but none of the muscle or the weathered look in the face that comes with age at sea. Denrik wondered how long it would be before Jadon found himself being challenged when he spoke his mind to small-minded men.
    The two ship-selling pirates took their leave and left Jadon and Denrik Zayne alone together over a pair of untouched ales. Denrik reseated himself so that he was across the booth from the boy.
    “What do you think of them? Tell me,” Denrik said. He leaned over the table.
    “Jimmony would kill you for the coin, but not the ill-won fame,” Jadon said, his manner that of a schoolboy asked to recite a lesson. “He would blame someone else, to keep his head in the retribution that would follow. Sanson blusters, but he’s afraid of you. He’s dealing honestly, at least with you. Possibly not with Jimmony or his other associates. You’ll get your ship, and they’ll get their money. Jimmony won’t be there at the exchange; Sanson won’t dare renege on that promise, but Jimmony will get his cut, and they’ll smooth things over between them.”
    “Nothing’s ever smooth