The Piratess

Prologue

Prologue

The surf thundered louder than usual against the cliffs outside Kruschar’s gates. Like an angry demon, the wind was tugging at the robes of councilman Margoro. This weather was harsh enough to lure people into the shelter of the town already days before the autumn festival.

If it had not been such a vulgar gesture, Margoro would have rubbed his hands happily as he walked a marble paved path to the largest of his stables. Even in the relative seclusion of his estate, the young nobleman never forgot for a moment that his prestige was based on the idea people were getting about him. Many a merchant was richer than he was, but in Kruschar no one was more powerful.

In the stable aisle a dragon herder waited for him with a basket full of cistus roses. Behind the high wooden gates on the right and left side, splendid dragons craned their long necks after the delicacy. Stocky draft dragons in brown and green, the colors of his noble house, were standing between the high-legged multicolored saddle dragons.

The herder handed Margoro one cistus after the other. Margoro plucked off the petals and fed them to a dragon with ocher and orange scales. The mighty beast swallowed them purring loudly. “Don’t eat so hastily, Katran! They’re the last ones of the year.”

“Lord,” came the brittle voice of Yawani from the stable gate. “We’d better feed them to the racing dragons. After all...”

“Why do you worry? One of them still won!”

A racing dragon with copper-colored back scales drew attention to himself with a kick against the stable wall. He snorted angrily, as if he understood the words of the humans.

“Did we disregard you?” Yawani approached sluggishly and patted his neck. “Shall we let start all ten of them, Lord?”

“The Council rejected it yesterday.” Margoro went with the next flower to a blue racing dragon. “So be it. With the second race I’m offering the town a much bigger spectacle anyway. For that alone the townspeople are gonna re-elect me, and I’ll be able to stop the activities of Aharon’s priests.”

“We must curtail their influence, Lord – only this! “

“That first!” Margoro finally fed the copper-colored racing dragon, which primly took one petal after the other from his palm. “But someday I won’t be needing them at all.”

He waved to the dragon herder and pointed to the remaining cistus roses. “Distribute them fairly.” The copper-colored dragon lowered his long neck and Margoro scratched him behind one ear; then he left the stable.

The wind was icy and he buried his cold hands in the wide sleeves of his cloak. He stopped in front of the house and waited for Yawani to climb the steps to the portal with his lame leg.

Eventually Yawani opened the door for him. In the entrance hall, a servant was startled from the stool where he had made himself comfortable. He hastily took the fur-trimmed cloaks from Margoro and Yawani and handed Margoro a silk surcot with a gold-embroidered train.

Margoro ignored the servant’s stammered apology; there were more important things now than blaming the man for his laziness. He turned to Yawani. “One day the priests will bring a respected healer to trial and the people will rebel.” He almost rubbed his hands after all.

Yawani looked at him thoughtfully. “Maybe we should lend a hand.”

“My good Yawani.” Margoro guffawed. “Always a new idea. But it might stand out if one of our people started it off. I’d better not take that chance.”

“But not in instigating rebellion, Lord. Tracking down a witch.” Yawani followed him through the two-story entrance hall into a brightly lit room where the blazing fire in the fireplace made the autumn weather forget. Groaning, he closed the heavy door.

“I still need the priests. I quite like the way the Saint threatens the power of the guilds with his witch hunts.” Margoro wanted to take possession of the alchemists’ knowledge before chasing Aharon’s priests back to the former kingdom of Dhaomond. Even on the mainland the glassware from his manufactories was considered to be the most artistic work there was to buy. But he wasn’t satisfied with that – he also wanted to produce the raw glass himself. “The women will have to reveal one secret at a time to prove that there is no magic involved.”

“But so far the priests haven’t learned anything useful. Only the fearful and insignificant ones break under torture.” Yawani rang for the servant and ordered him to replenish the wood supply.

“I could equip an army that would be invincible even with glass weapons if the alchemists revealed the secret of the black powder.”

“We don’t need an army, Lord, once we have united the free cities of the North.” Yawani pushed his stiff leg back, bent over to the wood basket and put three thick logs to the fire. The resin hissed loudly before they began to burn; this wood was not well-seasoned.

The wind pressed a cloud of smoke into the room and Margoro squinted his eyes. “But I want the whole island, not just the North. And I want the royal title of Dhaomond.”

“No one will be crowned king unless he’s linked to the High House of Sondharrim.”

“Then find me a suitable woman.” Margoro spread his arms. “Am I not rich enough to provide a princess with anything her heart desires?”

Yawani’s gaze once again seemed to express disapproval. This was probably one of those days when gout plagued the old man so much that he saw everything in dark colors.

Again a gust of wind pushed smoke back into the room. Margoro’s eyes began to water and he pointed to the window.

Yawani opened it for him and swung one of the heavy curtains to get the smoke faster out of the room. “They say the Saint had the windows of two temples, which are located on pass heights, made weatherproof with colored mosaics from Olmaram.”

“Why didn’t he buy the glass in my workshops?” Margoro grabbed Yawani by the shoulder. “And why didn’t I learn that until now?”

“The workshop of Adhar could not supply. We had shipped all the glass to Thannes Lane just days before.”

“Then the ship should have been retrieved!”

“Impossible! Only the agile ships of the elves to whom wind and sea obey, are able to catch the big schooners.”

“And the piratess’ brigantine! But one day I’ll own such ships, too.” He tugged at his right sleeve with barely controlled displeasure; its gold trim was already completely worn out. “Where is she anyway? You promised she’d bring me the horses.”

“Nanja will arrive in time, Lord.” Yawani reached for the mirrored decanter on the table and filled a magnificent crystal goblet to the half. “She’s the best seafarer of all. Except the elves, of course.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Yawani was holding the goblet out to him. As Margoro didn’t grab it right away, he raised his eyebrows. “Do you despise your nightcap today? It’s distilled from the fine phragmites that grows on the beaches of Belascha.”

Margoro took the goblet, held it in front of his nose and sniffed. “But it smells bland.”

“Shall I have the cassava schnapps brought for you, Lord?”

“I don’t want any schnapps. I want those horses.” He put the goblet back on the table and strutted up and down, dragging the train behind him like an irritated dragon dragging his tail. “It’s barely twenty sunrises until the autumn festival. Without the horses, I’ll be ridiculed. “

“Therefore, I had advised to announce only a surprise. But we had to spread everywhere our plan to let the dragons compete against these alien animals.”

“It would have been known anyway. After all, I needed the agreement of the other racing teams.”

Yawani took a deep breath, but then he seemed to reconsider and gave no answer.

Margoro suspected him to have gotten a monopoly on dissent that evening. He reached for the reed brandy and emptied the goblet in one go. “If the piratess doesn’t bring me the horses, I may as well give up my seat on the town council voluntarily. Instead of re-electing me, I’ll be laughed at.”

“Even then, Lord, if these racing animals should lose. Unless we make a comedy out of it to demonstrate the arrogance of the mainlanders.”

“An amusing thought. Remember it.” Margoro held out the goblet to Yawani and he poured again. He drank up and burped loudly and with relish. “But one thing at a time. When is this piratess coming?”