1. The Giant and the Thief

1. The Giant and the Thief

"I'll kiss you breathless in exchange for a tot of rum." Hakan propped an elbow on the bar and addressed the barkeep with a grin.

The broad-shouldered woman rolled her eyes. "I'd prefer you just pay, same as anyone."

"Your loss." Hakan tried not to be offended; she didn't know what she was missing.

The barkeep slapped a cup down and poured a finger of rum into it. Hakan paid with a copper coin and turned, leaning against the bar to survey the room. The place was half an inn and half a tea-house, which befit its location on the coast of the Sundering Sea. Sailors drank the rum, while the locals took tea. Several of them were enjoying a drink and a chat at the table closest to the window. Hakan ignored them. The locals were no good to him today. He needed a sailor. Or a boat, to be more precise.

He needed passage to Crescent Island, where he planned to catch up with old friends and secure funds and a boat of his own. After that, he'd free his scattered crew so they could be about their proper business once more. Give him a month and life would be just like old times; as though his captivity had never happened.

He savoured his rum along with his plans. The front of the inn looked over the bay, wide windows showing the bustle at the quay. Zussoh, which he was currently trying to leave, was a town in celebration. The traitor Naisha had been defeated and Sultan Talal was once more secure on his throne. The townspeople were jubilant.

Hakan was simply relieved to have finally secured his own release from indenture.

And impatient to leave, in case the sultan changed his mind.

As he watched, an audacious plan sprang to life in Hakan's mind. Even better than passage – for which he'd probably need to pay and definitely need to express gratitude – he could simply steal a boat; flex his pirate muscles to ensure they hadn't wasted away in the last year. He just needed a boat that wasn't sufficiently guarded.

He ordered a second tot of rum, and didn't even attempt to flirt with the barkeep.

A tall sailor passed the windows. Hakan's attention snagged on his broad shoulders. He was a giant of a man, as tall as Hakan and wider in the shoulder, although narrower in the chest. His skin was honey-brown, face clean-shaven, while his dark hair brushed loose against his collar. Interest thrummed beneath Hakan's skin. He reminded himself he wanted neither a woman, nor a man, but a boat upon which to leave Zussoh.

The newcomer turned and entered the inn. Hakan took a sip of his rum, deciding he'd wait for the busy harbourside to quieten down some. The place was bustling; it wouldn't do to end up dragged before a qadi for theft before he even left Sudharain's shores. They were a devout lot in Zussoh – sunset, when everyone stopped for prayers, probably offered the best opportunity for a little light thievery.

The giant walked past him, leaned against the bar and snagged the barkeep's attention.

She gave a nod of acknowledgement. "What can I do for you?"

The two chatted as she poured him a mug of ale. From the corner of his eye, Hakan enjoyed the sight of the muscles shifting beneath his rough shirt; the bob of his throat as he drank the ale.

And then the pirate's chatter gave him the opportunity he'd been looking for. "No, no, Free Breezes is only small," he said in reply to the barkeep's questions. "I travel alone."

Hakan's ears pricked up. The giant had a boat small enough to be sailed single-handedly? And it was currently in the harbour, while its owner was chatting away here? His original plan rushing back, Hakan finished his rum and strolled out to the bay.

Free Breezes, Free Breezes, Free Breezes. He repeated the name as he walked. There. His lips curved. A pretty little chebec, she was positively begging to carry him out to Crescent Island. Hakan took a deep breath of sea-salted air, scanned the bay to ensure no one was paying him close attention, and vaulted onto the deck.

The bay was so full of bustle that with Free Breeze's owner elsewhere, no one realised Hakan was unfastening the lines of a boat very much not his own.

It was the work of a moment to unfurl the main sail and set them in motion, after which he strode towards the covered area, ducking inside to ensure there was neither stray crew nor passengers to deal with. His senses primed for sound or movement, all he heard was the flap of the sail as it settled, pulling them into the bay, waves slapping gently against the hull.

Beneath the awning, Hakan found a hammock with a blanket balled in it, a couple of small barrels for water and food of some sort, and a small, finely carved and polished chest.

What he didn't find was an occupant, just as he expected. He wished the giant joy of his conversation with the barkeep, since his mood would be dampened when he returned to his boat to find it gone.

Grinning, Hakan returned to the main deck, gathered the sheet and settled beside the tiller, nudging the vessel towards the mouth of the bay and the river beyond. He trimmed the sail to maximise his speed and grinned as the sail billowed and a fresh breeze tugged at his hair and beard: still got it.

His own chebec, Coldhearted, was lost to him, destroyed when the sultan had captured him. An emotion that was probably no more than nostalgia slid through him. Free Breezes was much smaller than Coldhearted, but that was an advantage today. He needed something he could sail single-handedly until he freed at least some of his crew. This was perfect.

As the chebec headed towards the mouth of the bay and the wide water beyond, Hakan took a breath as a free man for the first time in fifteen months. His grin widened while his shoulders expanded, spine straightening now he was his own master once more. He touched the manumission papers safely tucked into his inside pocket as though to reassure himself they were really there. Not that their absence would change his course now he was set upon it. He had a grudging respect for the sultan as an enemy who shouldn't be under-estimated. Now, he planned to steer clear of the man. The sea was far more his milieu. His easy departure was a good omen for the journey ahead. He'd expected to need to wheedle his way onto a boat, bartering his skills for passage.

Instead, he was immediately master of his own vessel.

A free man. It had taken a while, but the prize was worth the wait.

~

Ramorran cursed the loss of time and his failure to achieve anything of use. Zussoh had turned out to be a dead-end. Hardly surprising, when he'd arrived to find the city recently relieved from siege. His quarry was either long-gone, or had read the situation well enough to steer clear. He was fumbling in the dark. He knew it, but it still hurt to be reminded of the fact.

His next step ... well, he needed to accept the advice the barkeep had provided. He'd find the information he craved, even if not the man he was determined to trace, on Crescent Island. His lip curled. A vile hotbed of thieves, pirates and cut-throats.

Exactly what your mother always warned you about, a voice in his head chimed in.

And if she could see him now, his mother – may her soul find rest – would know exactly how much attention he'd paid to her warnings to end up in his current mess. Your heart's too soft – she'd shaken her head over that more than once during his youth, too. And wasn't that the truth?

Lesson learned, Ma. I'm as hard-hearted as anyone could wish for now. Sixblades had taught him that harsh lesson. Now, he'd track down the pirate who'd ensnared him with lies only to betray him and laugh. He'd secure his stolen property and then he'd return home to his family. A pirate's life had seemed glamourous and enticing, but he knew now pirates were rotten to the core. He was done with them.

His decision was made, but Ramorran dawdled over his ale. Stories resounded in his head about Crescent Island. It was a place so notorious every tale was recited in hushed tones. Ramorran straightened his shoulders. He didn't care for that. What did he even have left to lose? Nothing. And he could handle himself, if push came to shove. He couldn't fail. And he was prepared this time. No one would fool him with lies and false promises.

His thoughts spun as he made his way back to the berth allotted to Free Breezes. He'd set a course for Crescent Island, and form a plan on the way there.

Ramorran's mood lightened as he watched the sparkling waves tugging a restless invitation against the rocky cliffs. A smile tugged at his lips at the thought of slipping into the cool waves.

The smile fell right off his face when he found empty water where Free Breezes should have been. Stolen. Waves damn every light-fingered pirate that polluted the seas!

~

Hakan was almost at the mouth of the river, the Sundering Sea a glorious vista in front of him, when a thud sounded against the port side of the chebec, at the waterline.

He glanced aside, not especially worried. The river and the sea close to shore had been turbulent while Sudharain and Gabalnu were at war. There was sure to be all kinds of debris bobbing about on the waves. So long as it wasn't big enough to cause damage he'd sail straight through any flotsam and jetsam.

A second thud followed the first. Hakan's attention sharpened. And then his eyes widened.

Flotsam and jetsam didn't grip the edge of the hull and heave itself onto the deck in a single, fluid movement. Flotsam and jetsam categorically never rose to its feet and glared at him like a vengeful god. Hakan's heart kicked in alarm. He'd supposed Free Breezes' owner would stay in the harbourside inn for long enough for him to get away. He hadn't been slow in his theft. And how had the man reached him so quickly? He scanned the waves behind the unwelcome arrival for a second vessel, but the river was empty. He surely hadn't swum? The soaking fury facing him was breathing hard. Perhaps he had swum, as unlikely as it seemed.

"You!" The sodden, vengeful God glared, recognition tugging his eyebrows together. Well, his reputation did tend to proceed him...

He wished he'd thought to secure a weapon during his scan of the boat. He was accomplished at hand-to-hand combat, but his opponents were rarely his physical equals. He offered a bow wondering if it might be possible to turn the situation to his advantage. "Welcome aboard..?"

"I should throw you in the sea," the drenched man declared, ignoring Hakan's question.

You could try, Hakan thought, his gaze scanning the well-muscled, dripping chest and shoulders facing him. His pulse soared like a tide on the image of the two of them wrestling. He'd been paying attention to the wrong person when he'd attempted to flirt with the barkeep. He wrenched his mind back to his present dilemma.

"Get off my boat before I throw you off."

Hakan glanced at the water surrounding them and the distance to the shore. "I'd love to comply, but that's not immediately possible," he replied easily. "I couldn't hope to swim to shore from here."

"You should have thought of that before you stole my boat."

The tone was icy; well, Hakan wouldn't expect any man to be pleased at the loss of his property.

"Leave." The giant repeated.

Hakan gave a genial smile, determined to retain possession of his prize. "We appear to have got off on the wrong foot. I'm Hakan, recently captain of the boat Coldhearted. You might have heard stories of the ship and its crew. You've got this all wrong. Your boat came loose of its moorings. I thought it would be a kindness to keep an eye on it."

Broad hands clenched to fists at the giant's sides. His sodden hair continued to send rivulets of water down the planes of his chest. Hakan wanted to trace them. With his tongue.

"I've heard of you. You're a thief, and a slaver." The giant found an extra inch of height when he drew in a deep breath, stalking forward. Hakan had to steel himself not to step back. "I hate thieves, I loathe slavers and you're both."

Hakan shrugged. "By necessity. On occasion," he agreed cheerfully. Another inconsequential thought occurred: it would be a brave man who tried to enslave this individual. Although, the idea of throwing a rope around those powerful wrists sent a frisson through him. "I confess, I saw an opportunity and took it. But I only meant to borrow your delightful boat. I need a ride to Crescent Island. Once we're there I'll get off with pleasure and secure my own vessel."

He watched the other man's jaw work, picturing the teeth grinding behind the smooth cheek. His fingers curled to a fist to hold back the urge to stroke the skin and see if it was as soft as it looked. The man was clearly full grown, but his jaw was hairless as a boy's. It was an intriguing mix.

Hakan blinked out of his reverie in time to see the man make his decision. "As it happens, I've business on Crescent Island myself. I suppose you can stay aboard until we arrive."

Hakan stared. He hadn't expected capitulation so easily. Or at all.

The giant perhaps realised it himself. "But you'll make yourself useful," he snapped as an afterthought.

Grinning, Hakan spread a hand to indicate the tiller and his command of the mainsheet he'd been using to guide the sail. "As you see, I'm a competent sailor."

The other man huffed. He turned away, stalking to the covered end of the boat. Beneath the awning he wrenched off his soaked shirt, dropping it to the deck with a slap. He dragged a fresh shirt over his bare shoulders and Hakan watched the shift of his muscles as he did so. When he turned back to Hakan he was regrettably covered up. Clearing his throat, Hakan raised his chin to meet the other man's eyes. "What's your name?"

The boat's owner dredged him with a cold gaze that nevertheless raised heat in Hakan's belly. "I'm not giving you my name," he ground out.

"I need to call you something if we're to share the trip." He was wondering how the man might react to a teasing nickname, perhaps Giant. He opened his mouth...

"You can address me as Captain," the other man snapped.

That would do. "Aye, aye, Captain," Hakan said, mockery lilting his tone. He was about to reiterate his own name when the man once again spoke up.

"And I'll call you Thief," he finished, "So I don't forget that's what you are."

Standing on the deck of a boat categorically not his own, facing its handsome – if furious – owner, Hakan didn't feel he had grounds to dispute the title. "I do try to be unforgettable," he stated with a wink.

He thought the noise he could hear was Captain's teeth grinding.