Again the guns were loaded, and the seconds withdrew.

"Again, I shall count three," Dafflemere said.

"One a"

Gareth breathed steadily, calmly.

"Two a"

He exhaled, held his breath.

"Three!"

Once more Ozerov pulled first. Gareth saw the plume of smoke, felt a dull thud against his upper chest, had a moment of wonderment that it didn't hurt. He staggered, went to his knees.

He saw, through dimming vision, Ozerov whoop in joy, cast his pistol high in the air.

Gareth lifted his arm, lifted the pistol, heavier than lead, heavier than a cannon, and the first wave of pain hit, was pushed back. He extended his pistol at full arm's length and touched the hair trigger.

The pistol bucked, spun out of his hand.

Ozerov contorted, and Gareth saw, above his eyebrows, a smash of red and a gout of tissue.

Then the torches went out, and there was nothing but blackness.

Gareth Radnor fell bonelessly forward into the sand.

Eleven.

Fever and its dreams struck Gareth almost immediately.

Sometimes they were pleasant a" Gareth saw his parents alive and happy again; sailed into Ticao with a convoy of looted ships in his wake; danced at some great masked ball with Cosyra.

Sometimes they weren't a" he relived the day the Slavers came to his village, except this time they dragged his parents away in chains, while Gareth wallowed in muck at the shoreline, unable to rescue them; he sailed the Steadfast into the guns of some monstrous Linyati ship, eight impossible gundecks high; on a boyhood prank, Cosyra slipped and fell, screaming, from his grip, to her death.

Occasionally he swam up into consciousness, realized he was on a cot in the shade of a rough lean-to on the seaward side of the island, where the tradewinds could wash away his fever.

There was always someone there to nurse him a" Labala, Thom Tehidy, Knoll, Dafflemere. There were women of the island as well, keeping watch through the night. The only one he recognized was, strangely, Irina, who was crying and saying something about she'd thought it was a joke. Once, Cosyra was there, and he knew that was another fever dream, and wept bitterly.

Then the pain would take him, as a shark takes its prey, pulling him back down into the depths, and he could hear himself moaning, no matter how hard he tried to hold back.

Then, one day, he woke, and his mind was clear and the pain was gone.

It was morning, he thought, and Labala was sitting beside him. The big man wasn't looking at him, but was intently copying letters on a tablet, tongue clenched between his teeth in concentration.

"Some nurse you make," Gareth managed, and the tablet spun across the lean-to.

"You live!"

"I think so."

Gareth tried to sit up, and his arm went from under him, and he realized how weak he was.

"How long have I been no better than a lump?"

"Almost a month," Labala said. "Here. Drink some of this."

"This" was a fruit concoction, cooled in a gourd.

"Thanks." Gareth sank back down.

"What have I missed?"

Labala grunted. "And I thought I was all ready, standing by with all the news, waiting for you to come back, and now everything's fluttering about in my head.

"But now I got it in order.

"About a week after me and Dafflemere decided you was going to live, Froln and N'b'ry took the slaves back to where they come from aboard the Freedom.

"N'b'ry figured it'd be best to get them out of sight and mind, for fear some others might think, with you down, the vote on whether they was to be freed or not could be reheld.

"They sailed out, were gone a week an' a half, came back a little sweaty."

"Why?"

"Seems there were Linyati all over the waters around Kashi, and they had the hardest damned time eluding them. Knoll said it was like they were looking just for them." He grinned. "Froln cursed me some, saying I should've been along, trying to cast spells of confusion and dismay, instead of playing nursemaid back here.

"But I told them they came back all right, so what's the advantage in whining?"

"How could the Slavers know where to look? It's a big ocean," Gareth wondered, a bit to himself.

"Knoll had the same question. I dunno. But he said the people we sent back went ashore, glad, and one of them said they knew just where to go, how to go up that big damned river, sneak past the Linyati town, and sooner or later they'd be home, with new tales and songs.

"They was most grateful for those swords and such you wouldn't let anyone trade away, and said they knew well how to put them to use. They said they'd pray for all of us until their children's children's children had long gray beards.

"I figure that's about to next week, given most folks' memories and gratitudes."

Gareth drank more fruit juice.

"Anything else?"

"I've saved the best a" if that's what it is a" till last. See Dafflemere's had a dream. About gold and ships. About the Linyati treasure fleet that sails from Kashi into Linyati waters, stopping in every Linyati port, picking up gold and silver and treasures."

Gareth nodded. He remembered Nomios telling him that Luynes had talked of somehow, someday, finding a way to attack that fleet.

"That a" assuming the fleet really exists a" would be a proper dream," he said. "But how many ships would it take to attack them?"

"There's been Brethren coming in for resupply, and Dafflemere's been bending their ears hard. We've got twenty-two ships committed, which'd be twenty-six if we go along."

"You mean the Company's been waiting for me to come back before they voted?"

Labala looked away, out at the water.

"We told them they ought to wait. But a"

"But they didn't," Gareth said, pretending indifference. "I couldn't have expected them to. How'd the vote go?"

"Most were in favor of sailing with Dafflemere. Some a" me, the others who went out as virgins on the Steadfast a" said we ought to wait till you got better. Others laughed, said if you wanted to come along, as captain, you'd be welcome.

"If not a there was just too much gold to wait, and Froln would make a good enough skipper.

"Especially since Dafflemere's been dreaming, constant, about those ships."

Labala looked about cautiously.

"Truth tell, Gareth, that's something I don't like about this deal."

"Why not?"

"The gods send those kind of dreams, mostly to get people into trouble."

Gareth had a thought about who else might have cast those inviting dreams, but said nothing of it. "Well," he said. "I don't guess I've got a lot of choice whether I go in with you, do I?"

Labala shook his head. "Sorry, Gareth. I think you got backed into a corner."

a a a Gareth regained his energy quickly. He was plied with the freshest of fish, pork, chicken at every meal, although there still was no fresh beef to be had. His crews came calling daily, each man with a morsel or a charm that'd help Gareth back to full strength.

Both Labala and Dafflemere specialized in herbal sorcerous potions. Gareth thought both worked on the theory that the more disgusting a medicine was, the better it was for him.

Irina and other island women brought other delicacies, and again Irina apologized for letting herself fall into Ozerov's trap. Gareth told her to pay no mind, she couldn't have known his intent.

She said she'd do absolutely anything to be forgiven. Gareth was sorely tempted, but somehow maintained his nobility. Then, at night, when he saw firelight from below, in the marketplace, and heard women and men laughing together, he cursed his foolishness.

Three times a day he forced himself out of his bed, made himself exercise, walking as far as he dared, then trotting, finally running. He worked out with weapons, keeping them sheathed for added weight.

When he felt still better, he challenged any man to fight him with wooden swords or daggers, a silver piece for anyone who beat him. He lost about twenty pieces of silver, since there were highly skilled swordsmen among the pirates, before he felt his strength at full surge.

Then he moved back aboard the Steadfast and announced he was no longer on the sick list and back to duty.

a a a "Permission to come aboard?" the man in the longboat hailed.

Gareth went to the rail, thought he recognized the man in the sternsheets. But he didn't have to guess his identity a" the other men in the boat, wearing striped sleeveless shirts and blue breeches, plus the immaculate condition of the boat itself, gave away its identity.

"Come aboard the Naijak," he called, and the man swarmed up the ladder.

"Captain Radnor, I'm Captain Petrich," he said. "I, uh, was a" "

"The late Ozerov's second in the duel," Gareth said.

"Yessir." Petrich looked uncomfortable.

"Forget about it, unless you propose another challenge," Gareth said. "I doubt the Brethren would consider revenge a just duel a" at least, not that sort of revenge."

"No, sir," Petrich said. "What Ozerov did was his own business."

"Then welcome aboard, and come into my cabin for a glass."

"Fruit juice if you have it, or water," Petrich said. "Brandy fuzzles my senses, so I don't drink on duty."

"My taste exactly," Gareth said with some surprise. He and Petrich must be the only corsairs on Freebooter's Island who felt that way.

In the Steadfast's cabin, Petrich came to the point.

"Sir, as you know, our ship was owned by Lord Quindolphin, of Saros. That was why Ozerov challenged you, to gain favor, and most likely gold, with Quindolphin."

"I'd already figured that out," Gareth said, noting Petrich's use of the past tense regarding the Naijak's ownership.

"There are many in the crew who disliked serving Quindolphin, and who feel that slaving is a dirty business, something the gods will hold against us in the afterlife."

"If there are any."

"I believe in them," Petrich said. "And I felt your killing Ozerov, who was one of the most feared duelists I know of, was a sign.

"After his death, we a" the officers and men a" determined to become true pirates, and sail under the black flag rather than Quindolphin's house banner."

Gareth grunted in surprise.

"To be frank," Petrich said, "it was less a matter of morality than honest greed. Quindolphin's share was half, which is absurd for a man who took none of the risks."

"Interesting," Gareth said. "And, since Quindolphin is one of my enemies, what you say pleases me. But why have you come to tell me this?"

"As I believe in the gods," Petrich said, "I believe in luck. You've proven yourself to be lucky, Captain Radnor.

"The ship's company of the Naijak wishes to join your enterprises, and have voted, if you accept us, to follow your lead until we vote to do otherwise, and are willing to accept whatever terms, assuming they're reasonable, you wish to take for such leadership."

Gareth smiled at that.

"That's not the most solid of commitments."

Petrich sighed. "I know. But it appears there is little that is in these waters."