"No, Sire," Gareth said. "My only foe is the Slavers."

"Then go seek them out." Alfieri shook his head. "We never dreamed we might be using a corsair to further the demands of this kingdom. At least you're not a common pirate, even though certain, shall we say, habits, might well complicate both our future and yours.

"Go out and do well, and you shall be rewarded beyond your dreams when you return."

Gareth bowed again. Alfieri nodded, turned away, and Gareth backed out of the royal presence.

He found his tunic soaked with sweat once he was outside the palace, and wondered what Alfieri had meant about his habits.

But there was no one, not even Cosyra, to ask that of.

a a a Saying good-bye to Cosyra was wrenching, but she seemed to take it almost lightly. They made love fiercely that last night, and in the morning, as they were dressing, she told him there'd be no playing about with brown-skinned Kashi women.

"For there are many spells a woman knows, and I want you to be sure that I'll always have my eyes on you."

"I give you the same promise I gave the king," Gareth said. "I'll consider no foolishness, not ever."

"Hmph. A pirate's promise!"

a a a Gareth's twenty-five ships glided downriver carrying more than six hundred and fifty men, their sails stained gray, their hulls gleaming with fresh paint.

They were escorted by a great flotilla of onlookers. It looked as if half of Ticao had rented boats, and the other half ridden or walked out along the shore to watch the expedition depart for "beyond the frozen cities of the north."

In the lead was the Steadfast, and Gareth stood, trying to hold back pride, on the quarterdeck.

The river gave the ships to the sea, and the swell was gentle, the wind strong from the north, and the summer sky blue.

The crowds at Nalta Mouth cheered, and the people aboard the motley boats echoed the cheers before they turned back toward Ticao.

Above Gareth, at the tip of the mizzen mast, fluttered the black, green, and white banner of Saros. Once they'd gathered up the mercenaries waiting in Lyrawise and were beyond land, that would come down and Gareth's own corsair banner run up.

Then all would be reduced to the simple matter of fight hard, fight canny, or die.

Sixteen.

The weather continued fair across the Narrow Sea, and ships' officers had a chance to begin training the new men and assigning others their duty stations.

There were only a few ships around them. Once a rakish yacht almost flew past the Steadfast, and Gareth wondered why he hadn't used some of his riches to buy such a wonderful toy.

Gareth was pleased to have his friends aboard the Steadfast: N'b'ry, Tehidy, and Galf as watch officers, Nomios happily back as bosun, Labala as wizard.

Gareth would have wanted more strength in the magical area, but for some reason, really competent and experienced wizards hadn't wanted to sign aboard, possibly content with their lot in Ticao, possibly accustomed to adventuring in other, more rarefied spheres, possibly terrified because the pamphleteer might have done too good a job writing about the terrible thaumaturges of the frozen north.

He'd done some last-minute arranging to give Dihr and his men of Kashi a light scouting three-masted caravel he'd had rerigged with lateen sails to look like a Linyati patrol ship. They named it the Return.

The fleet made port in Lyrawise. Waiting were the 300-plus mercenaries that had been signed, plus various officials with bills for the various taverns that had been ruined, citizens who'd been outraged in one way or another, not to mention unpaid charges at other taverns, armories, tailors, and inns.

Gareth paid without too much complaint, thinking that this was exactly how he'd read soldiers would act, and he shouldn't be upset.

He also thought soldiers didn't behave much differently than sailors, except their weapons would generally be more ready at hand, and hence their depredations would be bolder.

At least during the wait Gareth's agents had divided the mercenaries into squads and companies and appointed officers. They could drill on the decks of the transports to keep them somewhat out of trouble, although Gareth was glad he'd had those ships crewed by large, belligerent-looking sailors.

Before boarding the soldiers, he gathered them on dockside and read the appropriate parts of the Articles a" those that dealt with discipline.

A rather beefy, dark man in half armor chortled something about having a child for a leader, and Nomios cracked his skull with a belaying pin. The men around the prone soldier seemed to understand the illustration that discipline afloat would be quick and harsh.

Naturally, the night before they sailed, half a dozen soldiers changed their mind and went overboard, swimming frantically for the shore. Gareth didn't have them pursued, for there'd be no other penalty but shooting for desertion, and he didn't want to do that. Besides, even if he'd forgiven their crime, they'd most likely make indifferent warriors.

The anchors came up, men chanting at the windlasses, the fleet put the land behind, and Gareth got seasick for half the day.

A day and night later, after Juterbog was well astern and they'd passed through a fleet of small fishing boats, the signal went up on the Steadfast for all ships to heave to and all captains report.

The sea was flat, and the sun was a bronze disk as the boats scuttled, like so many water bugs, over to the Steadfast.

Gareth, looking very much at ease, inwardly with stomach churning, sat on the top step of the quarterdeck ladder smiling down at the officers and mates in the waist below. The watch behind him was armed with hidden pistols, and there were men concealed forward with muskets loaded. In addition, a swivel gun was unobtrusively mounted on a railing, loaded with grape.

Gareth had no idea how his officers would take what he was about to announce. Tehidy had greeted each officer as he came aboard and given him a sealed envelope.

"First things first," Gareth said, and his voice carried across the water. He nodded to two sailors at the mizzen mast, and Gareth's banner, the Sarosian flag with a skull and crossed cutlasses, soared to the mast.

"Now we're flying under our true colors," he said.

There was a bit of a cheer.

"You can open your envelopes now," he said.

Some of the men obeyed, and read the identical instructions within. Others looked uneasily about, fingers touching their swords.

There was a sudden curse here, and a grin there, as the more geographically inclined officers understood the instructions.

"Yes," Gareth said. "I've lied to you all these long months. We're not sailing north against any great kingdoms. As far as I know, the only thing beyond the frozen cities of the north are polar bears and ice up to your bum.

"But I do know where treasure lies."

He reached behind him, picked up a piece of Kashi sculpture of solid gold, exotically shaped. He tossed it down the ladder, to bounce dully on the deck. An officer picked it up reflexively, gasped at the weight.

"That's one piece of the treasure the Linyati steal from the Kashi every year.

"Last year, I stole a little of it away from the Slavers. Some of you shared in the riches, and I'm sure you all saw my men, from common deckhands to mates, lording it about Ticao.

"Now I propose to go after all of it.

"I invite all of you to change your ideas, your plans, and go with me after real treasure, treasure I've seen, handled, looted for myself."

There came that wolf-growl from some of the officers. Dihr and his first mate were grinning happily. Froln had moved to one side, was leaning casually against a bulwark watching his fellow officers, hand nonchalantly draped on his sword grip.

"This is outrageous," one captain sputtered.

"It is, isn't it?" Gareth agreed. "Just the kind of thing a pirate would do."

The captain harrumphed; then, in spite of himself, a grin came, and he laughed aloud. "Glad to be with you, Captain Radnor."

But another officer wasn't amused. "We signed aboard for one duty," he said. "I'm no seabag lawyer, but I'd guess this change invalidates the Articles I signed."

"Possibly," Gareth agreed. "But the deceptions were intended to deceive the Linyati and their agents in Ticao. It would be a disappointment, would it not, for you to return, barely two weeks after you sailed out so boldly, to announce all was a fraud?"

The man thought, realized what was behind Gareth's words, paled.

"Just for m' own knowledge," Froln called, "what do you propose to do with someone who wants out?"

Gareth had given hard thought to the matter, and the answer had been given by a close study of his charts.

"I'll not murder him," he said, "nor force him to sail, unwilling, after gold he'd probably hate to possess."

He went on, through the laughter. "About four days' sail from here there's a certain island that used to be inhabited. There's still supposed to be huts, and fishermen leave dry food, in the event they're wrecked there.

"My solution for anyone opting out at this point is to maroon them there. By the time the fall storms come, and fishing vessels might pass by the island, the Linyati will already know of our presence, by the bloody grip we have on their throats!"

There was silence except for the creak of the ship and the wind rustling through the rigging.

"You're very damn' clever, Captain Radnor," someone said. But his tones were admiring, not critical.

"Thank you," Radnor said. "Before you leave the Steadfast, be sure and advise me, or one of my officers, if you plan to defect, so we can make the proper arrangements.

"And don't think of returning to your own ship and then attempting to break away from the fleet, for I promise you, all our lives will require us to pursue and destroy you.

"I'm sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "But this is a hard world. Now, to continue our plan against the Linyati a"

a a a "I was watching their faces," N'b'ry said. It was about two turnings of the glass later. The captains had departed, and the new course, almost due south, had been ordered and sail set. The two were in Gareth's cabin, relaxing for a moment.

"I saw only three or four who're afraid of the Slavers or whatever," he went on, "and the more they thought about the fortune we brought back, the less they wanted out."

"That's what I expected," Gareth said. "Or, so I don't sound arrogant, hoped, anyway. All the officers we interviewed for command had a bit of the rogue in them, or at least the opportunist, in my eyes."

He sat down in a hand-carved chair, put his feet up on his chart table, and stretched mightily.

"Now, with any luck, things will go easily, at least until we reach Freebooter's Island."

"That I'm looking forward to," N'b'ry said. "There was that small woman with the boldest eye. Perhaps she's no longer with that one-eyed scoundrel who's half again bigger than me. I think a" "

There was a hard rap at the door. Gareth swung his feet down to the deck.

"Enter."

It was Galf. "Sir, we've got problems."

Gareth sighed. "Of what sort?"

"We've found a stowaway a" or rather, the stowaway's come out of hiding up forward."

"I don't see any problem requiring me," Gareth said.

"Anyone who wants to be a corsair badly enough to stow away should just be signed on the Articles."

"Sir, it's not a he. It's a she."

Gareth made a sound in his throat.

"And she refuses to be put ashore, sir, but demands a hearing under our Articles."

"Now there's a bold wench," N'b'ry said. "And as I recall, we don't have anything in the Articles forbidding women in the crew. Nobody ever thought that would be a problem."

"Do not be absurd, Knoll N'b'ry," Gareth said, buckling on his sword belt. "Come on, and let's deal masterfully with the situation a" although I don't have a damned clue what we should do.

"Thank the gods for the Articles and the crew having the vote in the matter. I suppose, after it goes against her, we can turn back and put her aboard one of those fishing boats we passed. It's most unlikely she would have heard of our change of plans, nor would a single unknown be believed back in Ticao."

Gareth thought he'd developed a bit of command presence, the ability to handle any situation, no matter how deadly, how bizarre, without showing his real emotions.

But seeing Lady Cosyra of the Mount standing defiantly on his main deck shook him to the core, and he was later sure he'd turned pale, or green, or something.

Even though she was more than a bit travel-worn and in need of a bath, she was still striking, wearing close-tied kneeboots, dark blue pants, and a deerskin tunic, laced at the neck.

She also wore a sword belt with a thin-bladed rapier and, just behind it, a narrow, single-edged dagger.

"Good morrow, Captain," Cosyra said in a merry voice. "I'm thankful to be aboard your vessel."

Some of the crewmen, who'd recognized Cosyra and knew the relationship between the two, snickered.

"I wish I could say the same, Cosyra," and Gareth was disturbed enough to swear, "What the hells are you doing here?"

"I stowed away in Lyrawise," she said, "intending to serve with your fleet, Captain."

"You can't do that!" Gareth said.

"Why not? I've read your Articles, and there's nothing forbidding women to join your crew."

"'Tain't reasonable," a beefy sailor, Shenshi, Gareth remembered, growled. "If th' cap'n's whore can git aboard, so can mine."

Cosyra's half smile vanished, and she turned to the sailor.