“Your rings.” One gestured at a yeoman’s gold-circled fingers with a bloodstained knife and an evil grin on his undernourished face. “Take ’em off or I cut ’em off.”

Naldeth offered no resistance as rough hands searched his jerkin and breeches pockets, his coin purse torn from the cord he wore beneath his shirt. Then the rat-faced man reached for Parrail’s hand.

“The ring,” the pirate ordered.

Parrail’s stricken expression was little different to those all around but Naldeth saw the added pain in the scholar’s eyes as he surrendered the silver emblem of Vanam, hard-earned symbol of long years of study and self-denial.

That distraction left the mage slow to realise why everyone had fallen silent. All the pirates standing upright and ready, faces turned to the far rail. Naldeth saw the single mast of the ship that he’d failed to hit with any useful magic, snake pennon whipping to and fro in lazy mockery.

A taller man than any Naldeth could recall climbed over the rail with a deftness belying his bulk. The pirates raised a loud cheer, boots stamping, swords smacked together in raucous celebration. The tall man swept a courtly wave to acknowledge those on the forecastle and Naldeth noticed he was lacking the little finger on his sword hand. He had black hair with a curl to it, long enough to fall below his shoulders if it hadn’t been pulled back into a merciless queue. Those shoulders looked broad enough to bear any burden but the man was dressed like a noble who’d never had to soil his hands.

As he turned to share his approval with his pirates, Naldeth saw a delighted smile deepening creases beginning to claim a permanent place around the pirate’s eyes. He was a man in the prime of life, teeth white against the trimmed and disciplined beard that showed just a touch of grey. “Well done, my lads. Now, let’s have a little hush.” His voice was a carrying boom well suited to his barrel chest. The pirate approached the terrified colonists, heedless of his polished boots as he kicked some bloodied body aside.

“Good day to you.” He bowed low with ostentatious politeness. “I am Muredarch and I am the leader of these—” His smile turned feral. ”We’re pirates. You’re prisoners, though you’ll get a choice about that. We’re taking everything we find on this ship. You don’t get a choice about that.” He grinned at a stifled squeak of protest. ”But we’ll be handing out fair shares because that’s the way we do things in my fleet. If you want a share, all you have to do is swear fealty to me and do as I say until I say different. Show a talent for our life and you’ll find it’s recognised. Birth means nothing here but ability counts for a lot.”

He brushed a casual hand over his sea-blue tunic, embroidered velvet and belted with silver, the breeze ruffling the lawn sleeves of his shirt. “I don’t promise a long life but by all that’s holy, it’s a merry one while it lasts. We take our pleasures as readily as we take our plunder,” he continued airily. “Wine, women, good food and if you’re hurt, we’ll see you doctored and kept in comfort. If you’re left unable to fight, we don’t cast you off; there’s always jobs to be done that don’t need a sword. When you’ve earned me enough loot to pay me for sparing your lives, you are free to go, with whatever you’ve saved for yourselves. But most stay on and make themselves richer still.”

The lesser pirates hanging on his every word laughed but Naldeth heard genuine merriment, not the sycophancy he’d expected and found that worried him more.

“You ladies can work for us as you choose.” Muredarch turned a serious face to a mother clutching a daughter just blooming into girlhood. “No man will take you against your will, not without being gelded for it. Share your favours and be paid for the courtesy or earn your keep with cooking, washing, nursing.” He shrugged. “Or you give your oath with the men, sign on the roster and earn an equal share. Where’s Otalin?” A chorus of approval rose from the pirates as one stepped forward from a blood-soaked foursome on the forecastle. “We don’t keep women to firesides and distaffs if they don’t care for such things.”

Otalin shouted something derisory at the bound sailors, proving her womanhood by pulling jerkin and shirt apart to bare her breasts. It was, Naldeth decided, quite the least erotic display he’d ever seen.

Muredarch clapped his hands, which brought instant silence. “Anyone endangering the fleet in any way dies for it. Anyone starting a quarrel on board ship hangs for it,” he said with quiet menace. “You can settle a score in blood ashore as long as you don’t involve anyone else. If you can live by our rules, you’ll earn more gold than you ever dreamed of. If you can’t, we’ll take our price for your life out of you in work but I warn you, that’s the long way to earn your freedom. The quickest way out is not to work, then you won’t eat and you’ll die soon enough. If that’s your choice, so be it. You’ve till dawn tomorrow to think it through and then I’ll want a decision from each and every one of you.”

He turned to nod to the pirates on the sterncastle. “Bring him here.”

Naldeth heard a sharp intake of breath from Parrail as Master Gede was pushed down the ladder to the deck. He fell heavily, blood dark and matted in his grey hair. The woman Otalin jumped down lightly beside him and hauled him to his feet. The master sailor was pale, eyes bruised, arms bound behind him and looking unsteady but his jaw was set.

“Good day to you, Captain.” Muredarch inclined his head, one equal to another. “I take it you understand you’re in my fleet now?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “A captain should always stay with his ship, shouldn’t he? I always do my best to see to that. So you have a choice to make.”

“Turn pirate and prey on honest men?” growled Gede with contempt. “Never.”

“I said you had till tomorrow to make that decision.”

Muredarch smiled that feral smile again. “No, I’ve something else to ask you. Who’s the wizard?”

Gede’s eyes fixed on Muredarch, face expressionless.

“Who’s the wizard?” Muredarch repeated, soft and venomous. “Give him up. He didn’t do you much good, did he?”

Naldeth’s heartbeat sounded so loud inside his head it deafened him. The breath caught in his throat and his groin shrivelled with fear.

Gede stayed silent, eyes focused only on the pirate chieftain. He didn’t dare look anywhere else in case he gave some hint away, Naldeth realised. Numb with shock, he wished he could look away from the appalling sight but he dared not turn lest he meet someone else’s accusing eyes, see some pointing finger handing him over to this brute. His thoughts disintegrated into wretchedness and terror.

Muredarch was studying Gede intently. “No, you won’t give him up, will you? Not without a little persuasion. But I’m a man of my word. I’ll let you stay with your ship.”

The pirates laughed and Naldeth saw savage expectation on their faces all around. Otalin shoved Gede towards the main mast and the passengers scattered in alarm. Muredarch casually drew one of several daggers sheathed on his silver ornamented belt and the bare-chested man jumped down from the foredeck. He carried a hammer and sharp iron spikes as long as a man’s forearm. Muredarch cut Gede’s bonds but two pirates were waiting to grab his hands. Their chieftain stepped aside as the pair pulled Gede’s arms behind him, one either side of the mast, forcing his hands flat to the wood.

At Muredarch’s nod, the bare-chested man drove a spike through Gede’s hand, nailing him to the mast. The captain couldn’t restrain a yell of anguish. “Dast curse your seed!”

Muredarch was unmoved. “Show me the wizard.”

Gede shook his head, biting his lip so hard blood ran down his chin.

Muredarch nodded and the second spike hammered home. Gede’s cry was joined by sobs and distress all around.