6. Buried Treasure

6. Buried Treasure

"Wait. What?" Ramorran felt as though he'd been plunged into ice water. Thief already knew where to find Sixblades?

Hakan ignored him and strode to the mast to raise the sail.

Ramorran followed, hands clenched to stop him grabbing the wretched man and shaking him until he rattled. "You know where Sixblades is?"

"Not exactly. I used to. He moved. I have someone else I can ask."

Oh. Was that all? He folded his arms. "And will they tell us, or are they going to chase us out of town, too?"

Hakan concentrated on directing the sail to catch the wind with more focus than the task needed. Thief gestured him impatiently towards the tiller and he took the hint.

As they pulled away, Thief let the mainsail sheet slip through his fingers and approached Ramorran, shooing him away from the tiller. "I'll pilot. You have sleep to catch up on." He took a breath and answered Ramorran's question. "If Osman won't help me, I might as well throw myself in the sea. He's family."

Captain folded his arms. "Family can be more savage than strangers," he pointed out.

Thief grinned annoyingly, head cocked like a curious bird. "You sound like a man who learned that lesson the hard way."

"Plenty of people have unpleasant families."

Hakan continued to grin. "Yeah, and it hurts to be the cuckoo in the nest."

Ramorran's jaw worked. He couldn't figure out how to reply without letting Thief know he'd been riled by his words.

Hakan shrugged. "Osman used to be part of my crew," he replied, "Family by choice, not blood. Our lives have been in each other's hands many a time in the past."

Ramorran wanted to demand reassurances, but what was he, a child? Tracking down Sixblades was a risky business. He couldn't be surprised if the risk started long before he found his enemy.

"He's our best bet to find Sixblades," Hakan pointed out. Which was exactly why Ramorran was worried. Thief gestured to the hammock. "He lives the other side of the island. It'll be a couple of hours. Sleep if you want to be fresh when we arrive." He winked. "You might need to run if Osman turns on us too."

Ramorran turned away, then back. "What do you plan to do if he does?"

Hakan grinned. "I plan not to borrow trouble." He pointed again. "Sleep."

Ramorran grunted. "Fine. Try not to sink my boat."

"She's safe in my hands," Hakan promised, wriggling his fingers in a way Ramorran was sure was intended to be provoking.

He ducked under the shelter and rolled into his hammock. Safe in his hands. He scoffed as he tugged the blanket around him. As though anyone could ever be safe in a pirate's hands!

~

Ramorran woke with a solid sense of warmth and security wrapped around him like a warm blanket. That's how he knew it was a dream. Perhaps a nightmare; taunting him with everything he'd lost. Or perhaps never had. He sighed and levered upright, his gaze settling immediately on the stern of the boat where Hakan sat controlling the tiller and the mainsail, letting Ramorran's shoulders ease at the sign of familiarity.

When had that happened? Ramorran tipped his gaze to the canvas shelter as though it might be painted with answers. He was piling errors on top of mistakes. He should have thrown Thief off the boat before they left Zussoh. He'd missed another chance when he could have abandoned him on Crescent Island instead of helping the man fight off his attackers.

But that would be savage and cruel, and he wasn't heartless. Funny how you could lose your heart, but gradually it crept back in pieces until there it sat, thumping away in your chest, ready to be lost all over again.

That wasn't going to happen, not this time. Not ever again.

He swung out of the hammock. The creak of ropes, or perhaps his movement, alerted Hakan. The pirate smiled, thick hair tousled by the wind, sleeves rolled back to reveal strong forearms, and Ramorran felt a bolt of attraction so powerful it was like a blow. He swallowed, mouth dry. That was Thief, he reminded himself. The man wasn't attractive, he was irritating.

"Just in time!" Hakan – thankfully – didn't notice anything odd, calling out with a gesture towards the prow of the boat. "We're about to arrive."

As though prompted by his words, the boat slowed with a lurch, a crunching sound marking the hull hitting sandy shingle. Ramorran ducked around the shelter to see better. It was well past noon and they'd arrived at a sandy cove, a few gulls wheeling overhead but no other sign of life. "Where are we?"

"Still Crescent Island. We're at the Northeastern tip."

"Where your family lives." Ramorran didn't suppose Hakan meant family the way Ramorran did. Misgivings gripped him, but they were here now.

"My family and my treasure are both here." As the boat ground onto the beach, settling mostly out of the waterline, Hakan lowered the sail, then jumped off with a grin, splashing in the shallows. He squinted at the boat's hull, the waves and finally the land. "All good."

"Will she be safe?" Ramorran asked as he followed, jumping off the prow of the boat to keep his boots dry.

"The tide's going out," Hakan said; which Ramorran could see perfectly well for himself. "There's no risk she'll be carried away until high tide at midnight – and we'll be long gone by then."

Ramorran crossed his arms. "Can we trust your friends not to steal her?"

Hakan grinned. "You're welcome to stay behind if you'd prefer."

Ramorran was torn. Keep an eye on his boat, or keep an eye on Hakan. He only hoped he was making the sensible choice in not wanting to let Hakan out of his sight. He jumped off the prow of the boat, splashing onto the damp sand. "Lead on. I suppose I'll trust your friends if you do."

Because they could provide an address for Modo Sixblades. Once again, Ramorran regretted the task he'd set himself. He wished it were simply a matter of revenge, then he could tell himself to release his anger and get over it. But he couldn't get over this. He could only return to his family once he was whole once more. He either did this, or he was lost forever. He gestured towards the dunes that edged the beach. "Lead on."

This side of Crescent Island was a revelation. The harbour at the southern end of the island hadn't truly seemed a hotbed of vice and villainy – although their unprovoked attack was the stuff of stories – but this side was utterly innocuous. He could have been anywhere on dry land. They crossed over the dunes to find sandy ground supporting trees with patchy grass and wildflowers growing beneath them. Groves of almond and olive trees cast welcome shade, sheep cropping spiky grass beneath them.

"This is where your pirate friend lives?"

Hakan grinned. "Not what you expected?"

"Is he taking a holiday, or did he retire?" Ramorran hazarded.

Hakan laughed aloud and Ramorran's guts squeezed. He wanted to hear the sound again, many times. "You're smarter than you look." Hakan waggled a finger in his face while Ramorran tried not to feel insulted. "He retired."

Ramorran cast a glance around, taking in the scrubby grass dotted with fuzzy grey sheep, a hill covered with trees in the distance, the blue of the sea where the land surrendered to the waves. "He picked a nice spot."

"I guess." Hakan's grin widened. The beads in his beard glinted in the light. He looked carefree. Ramorran wrenched his attention back to the path. "If you have to leave the sea," Hakan added.

Ramorran frowned. "And now he's a farmer?"

"Can't stay a pirate forever."

Ramorran wondered why not, but Hakan was vanishing out of sight, clearly eager to find his friend. Ramorran was eager for the same thing. Once he knew where to find Sixblades he could leave the troublesome pirate far behind and return to his people and his home, the way he'd planned. Unease prickled across his shoulders. He walked faster to chase it away.

~

Hakan kept a grin on his face and his customary swagger in his step as he strode up to Osman's thrown-wide gates. He'd let no one see his worries, although his heart punched hard against his ribs.

"Hakan! You old rascal!" Something that had rattled loose in Hakan settled when he was grabbed in a bear hug by Osman. He hadn't really thought his friend would turn on him, but he was relieved his trust was repaid.

"Less of the old!" He complained as they broke apart.

Osman shook his shoulder with a crack of laughter. "You're a bolt from the blue! Last I heard you were the sultan's man."

Hakan rolled his eyes. "Not by choice. I was indentured."

Osman sucked his teeth and shook his head. "Captured? You're losing your touch."

Hakan rubbed the back of his neck, heat prickling uncomfortably through him. "I slipped, is all," he admitted. "And I'm my own man now."

"And seeking us out," Osman crowed. "Have you had enough of life at sea? Decided to retire?"

"Nah. The settled life isn't for me. I just need some information."

Osman clapped him on the shoulder hard enough the blow might have felled him if he wasn't used to the man of old. "Of course, of course." He chuckled. "And for the love I bear you I'll charge a very fair price, whatever it is. Come along, let's—" He stopped in the act of steering Hakan into the house when he caught sight of Captain, who'd been standing behind Hakan in Osman's blind side. "Who's this? New crew?"

"Ah." Hakan paused when he realised he didn't have any name except Captain to offer his friend. Well, that would have to do. "I needed to borrow a boat. As it happens, he's the captain and I'm crew."

Osman chuckled again. "The mighty are fallen, eh?" He ushered them towards the house again, including Captain in the gesture. "Come along. There's always room for my friends here." His gaze slid to Captain. "And their friends."

Hakan fell into step with his old crewmate. "Before I forget, we could use some provisions for the boat."

"Of course, of course." Osman clapped him on the shoulder with another knee-buckling blow, and waved his free hand towards a skinny young man hovering just inside the door. "Esrell here will sort that for you, won't you, Esrell?" Osman raised his voice and the youth gave a nod. "Yes, sir."

Hakan chuckled. "Sir? I see why you keep him around."

Osman laughed. "Ah, he's a good boy, aren't you, Esrell?"

The young man ducked his head, hiding a smile. "I try to be, sir."

Esrell vanished about his chore while Osman guided the two of them into the house. "It's been more'n a year since you crossed my threshold. I hope you've some good stories for me..."

"Oh, Ossy." Hakan grinned with a shake of his head. "The tales I could tell you'd turn your hair straight!"

~

It was nearing sunset, and far more people than Ramorran could hope to remember were settled around the broad table for the evening meal, voices rising as they passed dishes to and fro and shared news. He sat the other side of the table from Hakan and Osman, watching both men.

"We've heard strange stories about you, Hakan," one of the men stated as he doled cutlets onto his plate. "Joined the sultan's navy and betrayed your pirate brethren."

Ramorran tensed, ready to bolt before they'd even taken a bite of the meal. This was going to be like the Dirty Dog all over again. His fingers tightened around his eating knife.

But Hakan didn't look worried, grinning and throwing an almond into his mouth, crunching loudly before replying. "The sultan was my master for a short while. Much against my will." He spread his arms then accepted a flatbread from the basket circulating the table. "I never betrayed my brothers. In fact, I found new targets for my friends. You must have heard that tale, too, even out here on the edge of the sea. Several captains grew rich preying on Lindumian warships."

Osman nodded. "I half-wished I were still part of a crew myself when I heard of the bounty on Lindumian vessels." He shook his head. "But those days are far behind me."

Ramorran guessed that was because of the eye-patch he wore over his right eye, and the hands twisted with arthritis. The reason, presumably, the man had retired.

"Not so far," Hakan protested good-naturedly.

Osman waved a dismissive hand. "And then you were freed."

Hakan grinned, gesturing to himself. "As you see. A free man."

"A freed man," the first man said, an edge to his tone.

"If you wish to split hairs," Hakan said, impatience clear in his furrowed brow.

"Why didn't you try to escape? Rumour was you'd lost your edge."

Ramorran tensed again, knife clutched in his fist. The whole table seemed to be holding its breath.

Thief still didn't seem worried. "The sultan offered me work I found interesting."

"But no pay."

Hakan grinned and crunched another handful of almonds. "There's more to life than money."

Osman chuckled and the tension in the room dispersed. "Who are you, and what have you done with the Hakan I used to know?"

"Aren't I allowed to change? You have."

"Of course, of course." Osman ensured their plates were heaped, then began his own meal. "What are your plans?"

"This and that. I'll see what opportunities arise," Hakan replied. "I expect I'll be moving around as much as I can; need to get the wind in my hair after being constrained so many months."

Osman chuckled, tilted his head and regarded Hakan closely. "You didn't gain a taste for dry land, then?"

"Absolutely not. The waves are where I belong."

Their host sighed, the sound full of nostalgia. "I miss it myself occasionally, but a trip around the headland now and then settles my wanderlust these days. A good job, too, since I can go no further afield."

Ramorran glanced around the table. The house – overflowing with people, mostly old and all injured – was some sort of a retirement home for pirates who could no longer cope with the rigours of life on board ship. Or perhaps had grown bored of the lifestyle. The land around the house was cultivated, with trees growing everywhere, providing almonds and dates and other fruits Ramorran couldn't even name.

It was strangely peaceful and domestic compared to what he'd expected. It reminded him of festival meals back home. Ramorran chided himself for his surprise – what, had he supposed pirates kept about their cutthroat business until their own throat was cut by a more ruthless rival? Had he supposed they didn't have friends?

"My priority is to regain my crew and secure a boat."

Ramorran's attention was tugged back to the conversation by Hakan's words.

"I need to be my own master again," the pirate continued.

Ramorran stilled at the reminder that his time with Hakan was only temporary. He'd grown oddly used to having the other man around, broad and loud and full of life.

Hakan was a thieving thorn in his side, he reminded himself. And once his business with Sixblades was resolved, he could return home. His guts twisted. That was what he had to look forward to.

Hakan winked at him. "You'll be glad to see the back of me."

Ramorran nodded and stuffed a corner of flatbread into his mouth to cover his disquiet.

"And of course a boat needs crew. I hoped to free the old team. Loula and Ozzo are my priority."

Osman turned to Hakan. "You need money?"

"I left Zussoh with only the clothes on my back. I was hoping to secure some funds while I'm here."

Osman nodded. "We can find what you need."

Ramorran remembered the stories he'd been told. He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Did you bury treasure on the island?"

Hakan blinked at him, then roared with laughter, Osman joining in a moment later. Ramorran's cheeks heated. "I didn't bury my treasure," Hakan told him. "I planted it. I've a share in the fruit groves here. Osman manages my investment."

Assumptions dissolving like morning mist, Ramorran nodded, resolving to keep his mouth shut so he couldn't make a fool of himself. Pirates. Just when you thought you understood them, something new cropped up.

The meal finished and someone fetched out an instrument. They started to play and others joined in a rowdy song. The comparison with his tribe's spring tides festival strengthened. Esrell and some of the more energetic people began to dance.

"You should join them."

Ramorran jumped when Hakan spoke at his shoulder. "No. I don't dance." He'd danced with Sixblades, the joy of it slowly twisted to torment as love had faded to leave only fear behind.

"You might like it."

"I assure you I wouldn't," he snapped. Then he took a breath and forced a smile. "You dance. Show me what I'm missing."

Hakan winked. "Perhaps I shall." He stepped into the throng, joining in the merriment, clasping hands with ... Esrell. Ramorran's guts hollowed. He wished Hakan had tried harder to persuade him. Or that he'd been easier to persuade.

Just like the spring tides festival, he was left on the edges, looking on enviously.

He reached for his drink, coughing when he found the dark liquid in the thick glass cup wasn't the tea he'd expected, but something far stronger.

"We distil our own rum here. It's powerful stuff," Osman told him.

"I'll remember that," Ramorran managed, taking a smaller sip and holding the liquid in his mouth before swallowing.

He propped an elbow on the table, the glass half-covering his mouth to hide his expression, and simply watched as Hakan danced and sang with people who behaved exactly as family should. His heart ached. When he returned home, life would be different. No more sitting at the edges.

.