ABOUT THE GOLD HUNTER
Karigan couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned beneath
her pile of blankets, listening to the wind slam into her window.
She’d risen a time or two to stoke the fire, but the cold drove her
back beneath the covers, despite the woolens she wore over her
nightgown and her heavy stockings.
It wasn’t so much
the storm that kept her awake, but thoughts of her father and how
the evening ended so badly before it had even begun. She chose to
close herself in her room, with Elaine bringing up her supper. Her
aunts did not even stop by to wish her a good night.
They’re mad at me, she thought, even though it
wasn’t her fault her father had served on that pirate ship. And
still, as justified as she felt in her own judgments, she was
assailed by a sense of guilt, as if she were the one in the wrong
simply because she needed to know the truth of the
matter.
Her aunts were right
on one point, she admitted after some reflection: her tendency to
open her mouth without thinking. She could have approached the
whole mess in a more circumspect manner that would have alleviated
some of the hurt feelings. But her father had pushed her just a
little too hard about her own life, and she had pushed right
back.
The thing was, she
loved her father—loved him powerfully and had always admired him as
the dashing, strong, and successful man he was; the man who loved
her mother so much he never remarried. She wanted to be like him
when she grew up, planned to follow in his footsteps. Until the
Rider call changed everything. Still, she’d considered him a
paradigm of what a father and merchant ought to be without
question. Until she heard about the pirate ship. Until the
brothel.
She gathered from
Elaine he hadn’t attended supper, either, and ate alone in his
office. Karigan sighed. They were too much alike for their own
good.
Finally, when she
couldn’t take the twisting and turning anymore, she braced herself
against the cold, threw off her blankets, and dressed by the
fire.
Karigan trudged
through drifts that were as high as her thighs, from the house
toward the stable, her lantern providing a meager glow against the
night, large snowflakes beating against it like moths. The wind
sucked her breath away.
When she reached the
stable and stepped inside, she found stillness, and her restless
mind calmed a notch. The glow of her lantern enlarged, providing
golden warmth, and she released a breath she did not know she’d
been holding.
Her father’s horses
occupied almost every stall; sleek hacks he rode for business and
pleasure: his favorite, a fine-limbed white stallion named Southern
Star; matching pairs of handsome carriage horses; and several drays
who hauled cargo-laden wagons during the trading season. Standing
among them was one that did not quite fit in, an ungainly chestnut
messenger horse. All were blanketed and bedded with fresh straw and
snoozed in contentment, some snoring, hooves shuffling, all
apparently oblivious to the storm raging outside.
And why shouldn’t
they be when the stable was as sturdily built as the main house?
There was nary a draft in the place.
Often Karigan sought
out the company of her horse, Condor, when troubled. Somehow being
in his presence calmed her, soothed whatever agitated her. She
moved down the central aisle, leaving clumps of snow behind her,
until she came to his stall.
Sensing her
approach, the gelding poked his head over the stall door and gazed
at her with sleepy eyes, his whicker of greeting
half-hearted.
“Woke you up, did
I?” she asked, stroking his nose.
He whiffled her
hand, his breath smelling of sweet grain.
Karigan chuckled and
hung the lantern on a bracket beside his stall. She pulled a
freshly baked oat muffin from her pocket. She’d found a pile of
them on the sideboard where Cook left them overnight to cool.
Condor grew decidedly more alert.
Now she laughed and
fed him half. It vanished almost instantly and he nudged her for
more.
“Greedy beast,” she
said and gave him the rest.
She checked his
water bucket—it was full and hadn’t frozen over. His blanket was
straight and secure across his back. When she rode in, he’d been
one tired horse after pushing through all those snow drifts. Ice
had clung to his muzzle, making him look a hoary old man. The
stablemaster had helped rub him down, wound his legs with quilted
wrappings, and prepared him a warm bran mash. When Karigan left
him, she had no fear he was in any discomfort and knew he was as
happy and snug as a horse could be.
She yawned, patted
his neck, and sat on a nearby pile of hay bales. She found a
discarded horse blanket and pulled it over herself, and before she
knew it, with the soothing sounds of slumbering horses all around
her, she, too, fell asleep.
“Karigan?”
She’d been dreaming.
Something about sunny, gold-green grasslands, where wild horses
roamed ...
“Karigan?”
Her eyes fluttered
open and she lifted her head with a grimace. She had a crick in her
neck from sleeping at an odd angle, and lantern light glared into
her eyes. Her own, hanging by Condor’s stall, had sputtered
out.
“Father?” she said.
“What are you doing here?”
“That’s what I meant
to ask you.”
“I couldn’t sleep,”
she replied.
“Me either, so I
decided to check on things. When I stepped out, I saw your tracks
in the snow and followed them here.” He hung his lantern on a
bracket and sat next to her on a hay bale. The light reached
Condor’s eyes as he gazed at them.
“I’m sorry—” both
father and daughter began at the same time.
When Karigan opened
her mouth to speak again, her father forestalled her with a
gesture. “I admit I should have told you about the Gold Hunter long ago,” he said. “I never wanted
this ill feeling to arise between us, but it has, and all because
of my silence. If I tell you more about it now, will you hear me
out?”
Karigan nodded,
vowing to keep quiet and not interrupt him this time with
accusations.
“Good, good. Perhaps
you will come to understand, then, why I chose to remain with the
Gold Hunter even after she became a
pirate. I will warn you now, however, that there will always be
some details I will never speak of. Even your mother did not know
everything. Just as I expect you’ve secrets you will never tell
me.”
Karigan scowled, but
he was right, and so she held her tongue.
“Ready?” he
asked.
She nodded
emphatically, more ready than he could ever imagine.
He inclined his head
in formal acknowledgment. “Very well, then,” and he inhaled deeply
to begin.
“The captain of the
Gold Hunter,” he said in a voice that
took on the tone and cadence of a storyteller, “was not an evil
man, but deeply motivated by profit. And so, yes, when the embargo
was lifted from the Under Kingdoms, he continued to seize ships. He
was as good a naval tactician as he was a businessman, and the
Gold Hunter, well, she was a beauty in
her day, with swift, trim lines. In barely a puff of wind she’d
skim the water, overtaking any other vessel in sight, especially
those heavily laden with cargo.”
His hands moved to
illustrate the ship’s size and dimensions as he spoke. Karigan did
not doubt he envisioned the Gold Hunter
before him, felt the wind in his hair and the sea spray against his
face; saw dolphins leaping the waves that curled from the
prow.
“We took merchant
vessels plump with cargos of every description,” he continued.
“Casks of Rhovan wine, bundles of tobacco leaves, metal ore,
spices, ceramics ... anything you can imagine. Even a ship full of
goats.”
Karigan almost
questioned him about how many sailors had to die when the pirates
“took” a vessel and its goods, but she managed to remain still and
just listen. She glanced at Condor, and his unblinking gaze
steadied her.
“The Gold Hunter was fitted with an iron ram,” her
father said, “and crewed by hands who were well-armed and skilled
fighters. Few vessels outran us, and because of the reputation we
attained for fighting fierce battles, Captain Ifior convinced most
merchantmen to yield before combat even began. He was fair with
defeated crews, especially those who surrendered, and they were
free to go as they willed once we made landfall. Some chose to
remain with the Gold
Hunter.
“I myself was a mere
cabin boy, and I will not claim life on board was easy or pleasant.
It was hard work and the captain stern. He had no patience for
slackers and he was quick to flog any sailor he deemed wasn’t
moving fast enough.” He rubbed his shoulder, grimacing with some
memory. “Likewise, since I was the smallest on crew, others saw fit
to kick me around for no particular offense except I was
there.”
Karigan found it
difficult to imagine her father as a boy, for he’d always seemed so
tall and indomitable to her, not one to be pushed around. Those
boyhood experiences must have forged him into the man she knew.
They certainly did not break him, nor did they turn him into some
monster that gave back the same as he got. It was amazing, really,
and she, who had a gentle, loving upbringing, could only admire him
for it.
“But as difficult as
life could be on the Gold Hunter,” he
said, “it was no worse than I experienced fishing with my father.
Easier in many ways. More lucrative, too, and so I stayed.” He
paused, loosing a breath that was barely perceptible to her, like a
light slackening of the wind in the sails, a release. She glanced
at him and saw he was far away, far off on the sea, perhaps,
watching gannets plunge from the sky into the waves after fish, and
the sun lowering beyond the horizon of the world, not sitting
anchored in a stable in the middle of a snowstorm. She wondered at
the memories she forced him to dredge up, wondered what parts he
recalled but chose not to tell her.
“The most important
reason I stayed,” he said, “was because of what I learned—not just
the writing, reading, and figuring, but what I observed when I
accompanied the captain to market. Remember those goats I
mentioned? Not worth a great amount here in Sacoridia, or other
ports on the continent, but on Mallollan Island? A different
story.”
Mallollan, Karigan
knew, was part of the Cloud Island archipelago, where her father
maintained ties to this day.
“There were no
native livestock animals there,” he continued. “They did have some
scrawny cows and hogs acquired in direct trade, but most had to be
brought over on the long and dangerous passage from Pikelea, where
the customshouse was based and all the international and
legal commerce occurred. Which meant
the purchasing of goods was more expensive and heavily taxed, and
the returns more modest.
“Captain Ifior,
however, stayed away from the main island, thus avoiding paying
duty and evading any officials seeking his arrest for piracy.
Instead, he sailed directly to Mallollan, where he was welcomed by
people with little access to trade goods, but who were eager to
obtain them.
“I watched him
barter with the chiefs of various villages on the island. The
captain had been right—they wanted those goats. Not only for milk
and meat, but because owning them would elevate their status across
the whole archipelago. What the captain received in return were
goods plentiful to the islanders, but in demand elsewhere:
sugarcane, pearls, nutmeg, cinnamon ...”
Those items were
still in high demand in Sacoridia and elsewhere, and brought
princely sums, creating huge fortunes for several merchant clans.
Karigan’s father still traded with the islands, and even pioneered
the shipping of ice harvested from Sacoridian ponds and lakes to
the tropics, yet it was textiles that had brought him his greatest
wealth. She shifted beneath the horse blanket, realizing she’d
never heard precisely why and how textiles, and not those other
things, had become the core of her father’s business. There was
much, she supposed, she had taken for granted.
“You see,” her
father said, “it was the captain’s genius for knowing the markets I
wished to emulate, and from then on, I worked hard; became the best
cabin boy he’d ever known, and soon he entrusted me to keep his
ledgers. He even showed me how to save and invest my share of a
prize. Best of all, he continued to take me to market where I
watched and learned.”
He then sighed, his
gaze cast downward. “The end came when merchantmen, aware of the
Gold Hunter’s reputation, started
hiring protection when traveling the routes Captain Ifior prowled.
Our prey, with its extra protection, turned bold, more aggressive,
and our battles more pitched. In what would become our final
voyage, the captain was slain in a clash with a Tallitrean ship,
and he wasn’t the only one we lost. The fighting was vicious, and
the Gold Hunter was badly damaged.” He
shook his head. “We limped into port, all scorched and nearly
dismasted. If it weren’t for Sevano, we wouldn’t have made it home
at all.”
“Sevano?”
Her father smiled.
“He was first mate and took command when the captain
died.”
“I knew he’d sailed
with you, but not on—not on—”
“You didn’t picture
him a pirate, eh? No more than me, I suppose.”
She pushed a stray
lock of hair out of her face. The cargo master was like a part of
the family, and was the first to show her how to defend herself
from anyone who might do her harm. He was proficient with weapons,
but she hadn’t thought it unusual for a cargo master. He must have
learned those skills as a mariner.
“Where Captain Ifior
was a father to me,” he said, “Sevano was an elder brother. When
fights broke out over whatever cargo remained in the hold, he
managed to claim some of it for me, me being the scrawny boy I was
back then. No one wanted the bolts of beautiful cloth we’d taken
off a Durnesian merchant, especially when there were other goods of
more obvious value, so they were mine, and I took them to market. I
guess I had an eye for quality, and with my training, I got a very
good price.”
When Karigan’s
father fell silent, she could only gape. This was the origin of
Clan G’ladheon’s wealth and prestige? Stolen bolts of cloth? This
was her father’s first step toward becoming the premier textile
merchant of Sacoridia?
If he hadn’t taken
that step, where would she be now? Probably back on Black Island, a
fishwife, and constantly pregnant, living in a modest cot already
full of squalling children.
Would she have heard
the Rider call?
She didn’t
know.
It was odd how a
single decision, or a chance meeting, could change the course of
not only one life, but that of others. If her father had not run
away from Black Island, had not learned all he had from Captain
Ifior, her vision of herself as a fishwife would likely be all too
true. Instead, because of her father’s choices, she’d grown up
privileged, very comfortable, and well-educated. In light of all
that, it was difficult for her to stay angry at him for being a
cabin boy on the Gold Hunter. She still
didn’t approve of piracy, but she couldn’t blame him.
Condor shook his
head, ears and mane flopping. He gave her a sleepy look, then
turned inward, toward the depths of his stall.
“There is shame in
being involved with piracy,” her father said in a quiet voice. “It
is wrong, and I see it now with maturity, especially now that I
wear the cloak of a merchant. Ironically, I deplore those who would
attack my caravans, or ships I’ve invested in. They are criminals,
as I once was a criminal.
“A part of me
wonders if I would have achieved success without all I learned from
my association with the Gold Hunter. I
think I probably would have—I am a persistent sort, and determined
to succeed. But it would have taken longer, and the success might
be less.” He smiled. “I was motivated to achieve because I knew a
beautiful girl waited for me back on the island. I would not take
her as my wife until I’d proven myself a man—shown that I could
support her, and support her well. She deserved no less. I vowed
she would not be a poor fisherman’s wife. The Gold Hunter allowed me to bring her to Corsa and
marry her all that much sooner. I cannot say what would have
happened if I’d chosen some other path, but your mother and I, we
had dreams ...
“In any case,” he
said more brusquely, “piracy is not an admirable thing. And ... and
I was ashamed of what you would think. Seeing disappointment in
your eyes when you confronted me earlier—that was the hardest thing
I’ve faced in a long while.”
“If only you had
told me sooner.”
“I believed you were
too young to understand the implications.” He paused. “I know now
you are not, but I fear I can’t help but still see you as my little
girl in her party dress and ribbons, with scraped
elbows.”
Karigan thought as
much.
“You’re frowning,”
he said. “Be careful or your face will freeze that
way.”
She only screwed up
her face more.
“Well, if that is
all, perhaps we should retire to our beds. I didn’t work so hard
for so many years for my daughter to be sleeping in the stable.” He
rose and watched her.
The wind had
quieted. Karigan wondered if it was a lull in the storm, or if it
was actually dying out. “There’s one more thing,” she
said.
Her father stood
there, just waiting.
Before she lost her
nerve, she said, “When I passed through Rivertown last fall, I met
a friend of yours—Silva Early. In fact, I stayed at her ... her
establishment, the Golden Rudder.”
The blood drained
from Stevic G’ladheon’s face.