12. Much Changed

12. Much Changed

As Hakan's old crewmates predicted, they were able to sail into the island's tiny harbour, although they were watched from the moment they tacked and made their destination clear. Ramorran's heart sank with every wave that lifted them closer. He must have been mad to think he wanted to do this alone. He was unspeakably grateful for Hakan's solid warmth beside him.

He just hoped he could trust the man; that their plot of doublecross didn't have him as the dupe, rather than Sixblades.

They came to a stop between two small boats. Hakan tied their lines – the only one of them able to do so, since Ramorran's hands were tied to lend credence to the fiction of his captivity. Two guards stood over them, one with a sword outheld, the other with an arrow nocked in her bow.

Ramorran kept his gaze trained on the deck and tried to still his racing heart.

"Good morning!" Hakan greeted the guards with no trace of fear. Ramorran envied the man. "I've brought something for your master. A stray returned to the fold."

Ramorran fidgeted. His wrists were loosely tied in front of him, although he could twist out of the knots given a few moments. He cleared his throat and stopped plucking at the rope, because his safety didn't rely on whether he was tied up or not.

Hakan's boots clomped on the deckboards. He strode to Ramorran and tipped his down-turned chin so the guards could see his face through the folds of the hood. Ramorran couldn't name either, but he recognised both of them. The guards exchanged a glance and the sword and bow they were holding lowered.

"I'll escort you," the one with the sword said, waving for them to step onto the jetty. Hakan held his elbow as they stepped off the boat onto dry land. Ramorran's heart hammered, every sense screaming danger at him. He was grateful for the warmth of Hakan's hand on his arm, the reminder that he wasn't alone.

"Straight ahead." The guard's prompt was unnecessary. A single path ran from the jetty to the stone wall that surrounded the estate in the middle of the island. There was no chance they'd get lost.

Ramorran's gaze darted around as they went, seeking threats, although there was no threat greater than the one he was walking towards.

At the threshold of the estate, another guard barred the way. She spoke briefly to their escort. Ramorran caught the glimpse of metal at her throat: a slave collar. The guards at the jetty were employees, those within the house slaves. Perhaps that had changed after Ozzo and Loula's escape.

Then they were on the move once more, the harbour guard returning to his work while the woman escorted them further into the house.

Hakan dragged Ramorran to a halt abruptly. His heart lurched in alarm, then a young man strode past and he understood, unease surging through him when he recognised Esrell from Osman's farm. The young man was grinning, tapping a leather purse against the palm of his other hand. The purse's contents chinked.

"Hakan!" The young man stopped when he recognised them. Ramorran shrank back into his hood, eyes on the ground, willing the young man not to recognise him and speak out. "Great minds think alike, eh?"

He was gone before Hakan could do more than swear softly.

"This way," their escort repeated, impatient with their delay.

"We've been betrayed," Ramorran murmured, as they followed the slave. "I thought you said Osman could be trusted."

"Osman, yes. Not his friends, it seems."

Ramorran's jaw clenched. "What now?"

"We stick with the plan." Hakan pinched his elbow, hurrying them after the guard. "Doesn't matter if Sixblades knows you're here. We were about to tell him so, anyway."

"Fine." Ramorran cleared his throat and hummed softly, reassuring himself if nothing else.

"I'm here," Hakan promised. "All will be well."

Ramorran just hoped that was true. The slave threw open a door and stood aside to let them pass. Ramorran's spine prickled in fear as he prepared to face the man he'd once loved, who had betrayed and abused him. He took a deep breath and stepped across the threshold, Hakan beside him.

~

Hakan blinked as the day's light was cut out inside the dim chamber, the doors crashing closed behind them. His nose wrinkled at the scent of incense struggling to cover the sour tang of stale sweat. The room was wide, but empty of furniture save for a low seat at one end occupied by a slumped figure. Because he was still gripping Ramorran's arm, he felt the tension in his shipmate.

As his eyes adjusted to the light, Hakan stilled. The seated figure was Sixblades, although Hakan barely recognised the man. He'd changed significantly since the last time they'd met. What, was it only two years ago? Certainly, no more than three.

Sixblades sprawled idly across his chair. His face was far more lined than Hakan remembered, his hair greying. Instead of the practical garb they'd both worn the last time he'd seen the man, Sixblades was swathed in fine silk that wouldn't have been out of place at court. Correction, it would have been completely out of place at court, being overly ostentatious and more voluminous and heavily decorated with gems and tassels than anything he'd ever seen the sultan wear.

He didn't look like a pirate any more, but if the man was trying to look like a king, he was failing so far as Hakan could judge.

Sixblades had once been magnificent, the sort of man legends were written about, but he looked like a parody of himself now. Only his eyes were unchanged, gleaming with malice. That, Hakan remembered.

Their escort approached … Sixblades would probably like it to be called his throne … and bent to whisper in Sixblades' ear. She was waved away impatiently. No doubt her information was obvious: Hakan and a cloaked Ramorran stood before him. Sixblades' eyes glittered more coldly than his jewels as he regarded the pair of them. Ramorran was so tense he was almost vibrating out of his skin. Hakan allowed his thumb to rub to and fro across the man's elbow, a reassurance that brought no change in Ramorran's demeanour. Hakan wasn't surprised. Osman's warnings felt hollow now they were faced with the pirate in the gaudy flesh. But they had a plan. All would be well.

He grinned. "Modo, my old friend! It's a fine place you've got for yourself here!" He swept his free arm to encompass the room, or the house, or the entire island estate.

Sixblades didn't reply, or signal any response to the greeting, continuing to watch silently.

"I found something I thought you might be interested in." Hakan continued doggedly with the plan they'd agreed. "Some of your lost property I'm happy to return if the price is right."

Ramorran thrummed with tension as Hakan moved them a step closer to the old man. Hakan couldn't fault him. He'd survived more than his share of risky moments, but something deep in his brain was screaming at him to run away. He forced himself not to glance towards the door. He knew full well a guard stood before it, and looking would only indicate his discomfort. He was Sixblades' peer, he reminded himself, a man of nearly-equal repute.

Sixblades' eyes glittered malevolently. "You were a slave." At last he spoke, his voice a mocking snarl.

A shiver passed down Hakan's spine. "I was indentured by Sultan Talal, but I'm a free man now. I'm resuming my business," he continued. "I tracked down a curiosity that belongs here, I understand." He gestured at Ramorran. It was odd that Sixblades hadn't given the man so much as a glance. Of course, it was hard to see who he was with the cloak and its hood hiding him. But that should have made Sixblades more curious, not less.

"Why would I trade with a slave?"

Unease plucked harder at the back of Hakan's mind. He laughed to cover it, wagging a finger playfully at his host. "Free man now, my friend. I'm as free as you are."

Sixblades coughed. When the sound happened again, Hakan realised it was laughter – or a hollow version of it. "A slave wants to trade with me," Sixblades declared to the room at large.

Tension swirled around them. Ramorran was humming quietly, and not a moment too soon. Hakan was tense with the awareness of danger, but his mind started to relax, trusting Ramorran's strange abilities keep them out of it. He tried to watch the guards from the corner of his eye while keeping his attention on Sixblades. Were they relaxing, Ramorran's strange magic dimming their alertness?

"A slave thinks he can sell my own property back to me." Sixblades' eyes glittered and he finally turned his attention to Ramorran, glaring at the shrouded figure. "I suppose I should thank you for returning my pet."

The humming built in volume. Ramorran was taut as a bowstring. Hakan was a turbulent mixture of relaxed and hyper-vigilant, his brain screaming in two directions, trying to fight Ramorran's magic.

"So: thank you." Sixblades gestured and danger thrummed through Hakan. The guards had been rendered sluggish by Ramorran, but there were two of them against one of him.

Ramorran threw back his hood and opened his mouth. A low shriek filled the air. The guards sagged –

And Sixblades moved faster than ought to be possible from the desiccated sight of him, punching Ramorran in the throat. He staggered, dropping to his knees as he struggled to breathe. Sixblades yelled an order and the guards snapped out of their torpor and grabbed at them. Hakan threw off the first but the second dropped him to the ground, knee in his spine. "Gag my pet," Sixblades snapped, retreating back to his seat, silk billowing around him.

Hakan struggled, but the outcome was inevitable. A minute later and he was on his knees, hands bound behind his back. Ramorran was similarly bound and gagged.

Sixblades leaned his head slowly to one side. Hakan wondered if the man was about to fall over – was he having a seizure of some sort? A hand went to his head and he straightened. He leaned to the other side, and Hakan realised he'd removed something from his ear.

Understanding dawned as Sixblades straightened and smiled unkindly at his prisoners. Earplugs. Because he knew what Ramorran could do.

And because Esrell had given him enough warning to prepare.

Sixblades' creaky cough broke the silence again. He waved to the guards. "Put them in the cells. I'll deal with them at leisure."

Ramorran had already gone by the time Hakan was manhandled to his feet. He was shoved along a corridor and into a tiny cell. The door was slammed and locked before he could turn. The walls were solid, so he had no idea whether Ramorran was in the cell next door, or miles away. No, he wouldn't be miles away. It was a small island. Sixblades wouldn't let his prized pet stray far.

Damnation. Hakan rested his head against the wall to cool the pounding of his heart. All his plans had unravelled. They'd been fools to suppose Sixblades wouldn't have worked out how Ramorran escaped – nor how to counteract his astonishing abilities.

Hakan shook off his recriminations; they could wait until later. Now, he needed to get out. Ozzo and Loula would come after them if they hadn't returned by nightfall, but he didn't intend to wait that long. He began to work on the ropes tying his wrists behind his back. All was far from well, but they weren't defeated yet. Sixblades might be able to fight off Ramorran's strange magic, but a blow to the head or even a knife to the guts would fell the pirate. Hakan hadn't come intent on murder, but he"d do whatever was necessary to get himself and Ramorran free.

They'd get off this godforsaken island and he'd never see Sixblades again; perhaps now and then in a nightmare. He just needed to get free.