5. Warm Welcome

5. Warm Welcome

"Stick close and you'll be fine."

Ramorran was cross that Thief could so easily read his fears, but he knew his eyes were wide as saucers as they tied up their lines at the infamous harbour.

"There's nothing to worry about on Crescent Island."

He doubted Hakan's confident statement, but his mouth was too dry to argue.

"The island might be full of pirates, but it follows its own laws. This isn't the place to settle scores, hence it's welcoming and hospitable– well, as much as anywhere."

Thief chewed on his moustache while his eyes flickered over him. Ramorran expected him to issue a further warning, but he just shrugged, straightened, repeated, "Stick close," and sauntered down the gangplank they'd set between the chebec and the pontoon.

Ramorran, eyes darting side to side, followed. He tried to look casual, but he was sure he missed the mark by miles. His heart thrummed a tattoo that was alarm and excitement combined. This was, after all, a place of legends, come alive from bedtimes stories.

They paid for a berth overnight at the harbourmaster's office, then Hakan strode into the busy main street. Ramorran had to hurry to keep up, trying both to keep close to Hakan and take in all the bustling sights and sounds of Crescent Island. He was unlikely ever to visit again and he wanted to take it all in.

Outrageous stories echoed in his head, but there was no obvious violence in the streets he could see, no trace of licentiousness brimming from the doorways. It looked like a very ordinary, average port town. Hakan stopped at a brazier and bought a wrap of bread. After a moment's pause, he signalled for another and passed it over.

Ramorran took the gift, remembering with a start that Thief hadn't yet had any breakfast. He bit into the wrap and his mouth watered at the soft cheese and fresh herbs inside. "Thank you," he mumbled.

"Best not to do business on an empty stomach." Hakan winked. "This way. Someone in the Dirty Dog will have the information you want."

Ramorran dusted crumbs off his shirt as he followed Hakan through a propped-open door. Conversation hit him, brimming from the dim room inside, tables and chairs scattered around with customers occupying many of them. Someone was playing a whistle in the corner, others were engaged in a dice game, while the air was scented with hops and mint.

Hakan strode up to a wooden bar set towards the back of the room and Ramorran belatedly realised it was an inn, like the one outside Zussoh. Well, not quite the same. This seemed… wilder. Conversation hushed with their arrival, everyone gawping at the newcomers. Unease prickled down his spine.

He looked around while trying not to draw attention. An inn, filled with pirates. Except, like the streets outside, it looked entirely ordinary with no obvious villainy taking place. Thief leaned against the bar and flagged down the attention of a woman at the other end who was drying a row of tankards. She scowled, flung the towel over a shoulder and stalked to where they were waiting.

"Two mugs of ale, please." Thief turned, leaning back against the bar as he surveyed the room. Ramorran noticed that everyone inside was surveying him right back. "It's been a while since I was here. I'm in the market for a little information." He paused, but no one in the room rushed to help.

"Your money's no good here," the barkeep stated coldly.

Hakan turned with an expression of surprise. "What—"

"Leave," she stated, eyes glittering. "You'll get nothing here."

Ramorran would have obeyed immediately, but Hakan didn't seem perturbed. Clearly this was some sort of pirate head-butting that only seemed incomprehensible – and dangerous – because he wasn't a pirate.

"Mara," Hakan leaned forward, elbows on the bar, confident grin splitting his beard. "I don't know what tall tales you've heard—"

"Hakan the Coward." Mara's arms were folded over her chest. She wasn't a large woman, but her glare was positively glacial and her aura intimidating. The entire inn had fallen silent to watch the exchange. It wasn't a comfortable silence. If Ramorran were in charge, he'd be backing away towards the door. He had to force himself to trust Hakan. If the pirate wasn't worried, there was nothing to worry about, he reminded himself.

Thief's grin dimmed, a frown furrowing his brow. "I'm no coward," he returned, the words almost a snarl.

The air chilled another few degrees. Ramorran glanced at the door in time to see it slam shut. His brain was screaming for him to run, but his legs had unfortunately turned to jelly.

"Not the tale we've heard. Hakan turned traitor, spilled our secrets to the law, let his crew be taken for slaves, and now he strolls in here like nothing's happened." The barkeep turned deliberately aside and spat into the sawdust at her feet.

"We were all taken for slaves," Hakan replied, his frown deepening. "And I'm in the process of freeing my crew."

The barkeep's hands spread, her smile unkind. "Then don't let us stop you."

"We need ... never mind." Hakan spun on his heel and Ramorran had to step back smartly so they didn't collide. "I thought I was among friends here, but I was mistaken."

He took a step and realised all eyes were on him. He blinked and Ramorran saw his customary insouciance overcome the man. He grinned, gave a small bow which managed to be directed at everyone simultaneously, and stated very clearly, "You can go to hell, every one of you, for turning your back on a brother."

He stalked towards the door and Ramorran was conflicted whether to follow or try with the barkeep himself. He could ask questions just as well as Hakan could – and he was fairly sure he couldn't get a worse reception.

Then the barkeep turned her glare on him and his confidence vanished faster than a sprat faced with a shark. He was clearly condemned by association with Hakan. He turned and hurried out, catching up with Hakan just as the thief turned down a narrow alley.

And came face to face with three men clearly spoiling for a fight.

Funny, when Ramorran had thought about all the trouble he might find on Crescent Island, he'd pictured himself as the one falling into trouble, not Hakan.

~

Hakan dodged the first fist swung in his direction. Unlike when he'd been on board the chebec, he was expecting trouble after his reception at the Dirty Dog. Dancing out of reach, he grinned at the three men filling the alley. "The welcome on Crescent Island has grown colder since I've been away," he said, hoping to defuse the situation or at least give himself time to think.

"Hell will freeze over before you're welcome here."

"Yeah, so I hear. Strange for pirates to set themselves in judgement and decide they know my business better than I do." Fury flowed through him, although he kept his tone light. He glanced around, finding Captain behind him. Fortunately, there was no one behind him. The way ahead might be blocked, but they could still retreat if it came to that.

He squared up to face the three men. He'd retreat if he had to, but since – despite reports – he was no coward, he'd leave that as the last option. "I've no complaint with any of you," he said. "But if you attack me I won't hold back."

"Sultan's pet," one spat.

"I'm no friend of the sultan," Hakan returned, although he could understand why that might be doubted. "The man took me in slavery," he reminded them. Perhaps his story had been garbled on its way to Crescent Island. No friend, but nor was he an enemy of the sultan, to speak fair; he'd more sense than to make an enemy of so powerful a man.

"You've been tattling our secrets. The sultan's navy is all over the coast, interfering in our business."

"Blame Gabalnu for that, not me. That's who the navy's concerned with. You should be thanking me for gaining us the job of stealing Lindumia's ships without hindrance from the navy. There's more than one crew been made rich as a result of that, I'll wager." He tried to calm his breathing. Injustice held him taut as a bowstring. He'd persuaded the sultan to use pirate crews against the Lindumian threat – and now he was being condemned for tattling pirate business. The whole was absurd.

"Come along," he tried, still hoping these men could be cajoled as easily as Captain had been. "We're all busy men. You be about your business and I'll be about mine, less said the better."

"Our business is teaching you a lesson," the frontmost man stated. "Past time someone did."

Hakan nearly scoffed, then the man moved his arm to reveal a cudgel in his hand. No chance to avoid violence – which made it a good job Hakan was well-practised in scrapping.

With a blood-curdling yell, he launched at his first opponent, barrelling into him before he had time to raise the cudgel. Twisting, he threw the man over his shoulder to land heavily on the ground. By then, the others were on him. He ducked a blow, dancing aside to avoid a second. After that, he let instinct guide him, attacks coming too quickly for him to form a conscious response.

He barely saw blows before he was dodging them, grabbing the punching arm of the second man to pull him close so the third man's blow hit his friend instead of Hakan. Two of them were dealt with, groaning on the floor, when Hakan heard a noise and straightened to see two more figures stepping into the alleyway.

They shouted when they took in the scene, running to join their friends. Whatever stories were being told of him, it was clear they were circulating widely. Hakan braced himself. He was a powerful man, handy with his fists, but he was growing tired. He took a step back, wondering whether it was time for sense to overrule valour. If they ran, they'd probably make it back to Free Breezes before they could be overtaken. Probably.

A blood-curdling cry rang out behind him. Hakan twisted to see Captain step past his shoulder, fist flying, flattening one of the newcomers. Captain dealt with two of them in the time it took Hakan to down the third. Lungs heaving, he regarded his crewmate. "You're handy in a fight." He took a deep breath, wiping sweat from his brow. "Thank you. I wouldn't have managed that alone."

Captain scowled, although Hakan couldn't be sure whether the gesture was directed at him, or at the men now groaning as they struggled back to their senses.

Hakan didn't plan to wait around for that to happen. "Let's go." He strode out of the alleyway, plucking at Captain's sleeve as he passed. "Come on," he prompted, since the man appeared frozen in place.

"They might be hurt," Captain murmured.

Hakan turned, glancing once more at their attackers. "That's the idea." He grabbed the man's wrist and pulled. "If you want to stay and nurse them, I'll take the chebec."

As expected, that provoked a reaction. Captain wrenched his sleeve from Hakan's grip. "Thief! To steal from one who's helped you ... no wonder people are queuing up to strike you."

"They aren't queuing any more," he pointed out. Captain's expression didn't change. He sighed. "I'm not going to steal your damned boat. I just need you to get moving." He gestured to the men, one of whom was clambering to his feet. "I don't know if you've noticed, but we've got no friends here, unlike them. Time to beat a strategic retreat."

Captain huffed, but followed him out of the alleyway and along the main street. A cry split the air from behind, but he ignored it. Fortunately, this was Crescent Island and so did everyone else. At least the whole island hadn't turned against him. Hakan almost ran up the gangplank onto Free Breezes' deck. "Quickly." He began to unfasten the lines holding the chebec in place.

"I didn't get an address." Captain was standing at the edge of the deck, staring back towards the harbour. He swung to face Hakan. "Thanks to you, I'm no further forward. I should have gone alone, the way I planned."

"That's not my fault," Hakan burst out, waving a hand towards the town and the carnage they'd been forced to fight their way through.

"How's it not your fault? You were supposed to know who to ask and what to do. You were supposed to be guiding me!"

"I didn't know the place would've changed so much while I was away."

"And I'm left with nothing, thanks to trusting you." Captain said bitterly.

"No, you're not," Hakan told him. He took a deep breath. "If we just get away from this god-forsaken town I'll escort you to Sixblades' door myself."