LASTCHANCE

Isnarledandcameforward,bladescuttinghalfcirclesintheair,hopingtodazeordisorienthim.Hisexpressionhardlychanged,andwithfastmovementsofhiselbowandforearmhemetmyattackeasily.Hewasconcentratingonmylefthand,thehandthatheldthesword,andbeforeIevenrealizedhewasdoingit,mycutlasswentspinningfrommybloodyfingerstothedirt.

MyhiddenbladewasallIhadleftnow.Heconcentratedonit,knowingitwasnewtome.Behindhimmoreguardshadgatheredinthecourtyard,andthoughIcouldn’tunderstandwhattheyweresaying,itwasobvious:IwasnomatchforElTiburón;myendwasbutaheartbeataway.

AcetitlesbyOliverBowden

ASSASSIN’SCREED:RENAISSANCEASSASSIN’SCREED:BROTHERHOOD

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CONTENTS

TitlePageCopyright

PARTIONETWOTHREEFOURFIVESIX

SEVENEIGHTNINETEN

ELEVENTWELVETHIRTEENFOURTEENFIFTEENSIXTEEN

SEVENTEENEIGHTEENNINETEENTWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

PARTIITWENTY-TWOTWENTY-THREETWENTY-FOURTWENTY-FIVETWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVENTWENTY-EIGHTTWENTY-NINE

THIRTYTHIRTY-ONETHIRTY-TWOTHIRTY-THREETHIRTY-FOUR

PARTIIITHIRTY-FIVETHIRTY-SIX

THIRTY-SEVENTHIRTY-EIGHTTHIRTY-NINE

FORTYFORTY-ONEFORTY-TWOFORTY-THREEFORTY-FOURFORTY-FIVEFORTY-SIX

FORTY-SEVENFORTY-EIGHTFORTY-NINE

FIFTYFIFTY-ONEFIFTY-TWOFIFTY-THREEFIFTY-FOURFIFTY-FIVEFIFTY-SIX

PARTIVFIFTY-SEVENFIFTY-EIGHTFIFTY-NINE

SIXTYSIXTY-ONESIXTY-TWOSIXTY-THREESIXTY-FOUR

SIXTY-FIVESIXTY-SIX

SIXTY-SEVENSIXTY-EIGHTSIXTY-NINESEVENTY

SEVENTY-ONESEVENTY-TWOSEVENTY-THREE

ListofCharactersAcknowledgements

PARTI

ONE

1719(ORTHEREABOUTS)

Icutoffaman’snoseonce.Idon’trecallexactlywhenitwas:1719orthereabouts.Norwhere.Butit

happenedduringaraidonaSpanishbrig.Wewantedhersupplies,ofcourse.IpridemyselfonkeepingtheJackdawwellstocked.Buttherewassomethingelseonboardtoo.Somethingwedidn’thavebutneeded.Someone,tobeprecise.Aship’scook.

Ourownship’scookandhismatewerebothdead.Thecook’smatehadbeencaughtpissingintheballast,whichIdidn’tallowandsopunishedhimthetraditionalway,bymakinghimdrinkamugofthecrew’spiss.Imustadmit,I’veneverhadithappenbeforewherethemugofpunishmentpissactuallykilledtheman,butthat’swhathappenedwiththecook’smate.Hedrankthemugofpiss,wenttosleepthatnightandnevergotup.Cookwasallrightbyhimselfforatime,buthedidlikeanipofrum,andafteranipofrumwasapttotakethenightaironthepoop-deck.I’dhearhimclompingaboutontheroofofmycabin,dancingajig.UntilonenightIheardhimclompingaboutontheroofofmycabinanddancingajig—followedbyascreamandasplash.

Thebellrangandthecrewrushedtothedeck,wherewedroppedanchorandlitlanternsandtorches,butofCooktherewasnosign.

Theyhadladsworkingwiththem,ofcourse,buttheywerejustboys;noneofthemknewhowtodoanythingmoreculinary-mindedthanstirthepotorpeelsomespuds,andwe’dbeenlivingonrawgrubeversince.Notamanamongusknewhowtodosomuchasboilapotofwater.

Now,notlongbackwe’dtakenaman-o’-war.Atastylittleexcursionfromwhichwe’dbaggedourselvesabrand-spanking-newbroadsidebatteryandaholdfulofartillery:cutlasses,pikes,muskets,pistols,powderandshot.Fromone

ofthecapturedcrew,whothenbecameoneofmycrew,I’dlearntthattheDonshadaparticularsupplyshiponwhichservedanespeciallyadeptcook.Wordwasthathe’dcookedatcourtbutoffendedthequeenandbeenbanished.Ididn’tbelieveawordofthatbutitdidn’tstopmerepeatingit,tellingthecrewwe’dhavehimpreparingourmealsbeforetheweekwasout.Sureenoughwemadeitourbusinesstohuntdownthisparticularbrig,andwhenwefoundit,lostnotimeinattackingit.

Ournewbroadsidebatterycameinhandy.Wedrewupalongsideandpepperedthebrigwithshottillshebroke,thecanvasintattersandthehelmsplinteredinthewater.

Shewasalreadylistingasmycrewlashedandboardedher,scuttlingoverhersideslikerats,theairheavywiththestinkofpowder,thesoundofmusketspoppingandcutlassesalreadybeginningtorattle.Iwasinamongthemasalways,cutlassinonehandandmyhiddenbladeengaged,thecutlassformeleework,thebladesforclosefinishing.TwoofthemcameatmeandImadeshortworkofthefirst,drivingmycutlassintothetopofhisheadandslicinghistricorninhalfasthebladecleavedhisheadalmostintwo.HewenttohiskneeswiththebladeofmyswordbetweenhiseyesbuttheproblemwasI’ddrivenittoodeep,andwhenItriedtowrenchitfreehiswrithingbodycamewithit.Thenthesecondmanwasuponme,terrorinhiseyes,notusedtofighting,obviously,andwithaflickofthebladeIslicedoffhisnose,whichhadthedesiredeffectofsendinghimbackwithbloodsprayingfromthebloodyholewherehisbeakhadbeen,whileIusedtwohandstofinallywrenchmycutlassoutoftheskullofthefirstattackerandcontinuethegoodfight.Itwassoonover,withasfewoftheircrewdeadaspossible,mehavinggivenoutspecialinstructionsthatonnoaccountwasthecooktobeharmed—Whateverhappens,I’dsaid,wehavetotakethecookalive.

Astheirbrigdisappearedbeneaththewaterandwesailedaway,leavingafogofpowder-smokeandaseaofsplinteredhullandbobbingbitsofbrokenshipbehindus,wegatheredtheircrewonthemaindecktoflushoutthecook,hardlyamanamongusnotsalivating,hisbellynotrumbling,thewell-fedlookoftheircrewnotlostonus.Notatall.

ItwasCarolinewhotaughtmehowtoappreciategoodfood.Carolinemyonetruelove.Intheall-too-brieftimewe’dspenttogethersherefinedmypalate,andIlikedtothinkthatshe’dhaveapprovedofmypolicytowardstherepast,andhowI’dpassedonaloveofthefinerthingstothecrew,knowingasIdid,partlyduetowhatshe’dshownme,thatawell-fedmanisahappyman,andahappy

manisamanlesspronetoquestioningtheauthorityoftheship,whichiswhyinallthoseyearsatseaIneverhadonesniffofmutiny.Notone.

“HereIam,”hesaid,steppingforward.Exceptitsoundedmorelike,“BeerIbam,”owingtohisbandagedface,wheresomefoolhadcutoffhisnose.

TWO

1711

Butanyway,wherewasI?Caroline.YouwantedtoknowhowImether.Well,thereinliesatale,astheysay.Thereinliesatale.ForthatIneedtogo

muchfurtherback,toatimewhenIwasjustasimplesheep-farmer,beforeIknewanythingofAssassinsorTemplars,ofBlackbeard,BenjaminHornigold,ofNassauorTheObservatory,andmightneverhavebeenanythewiserbutforachancemeetingattheAuldShillelaghonehotsummer’sdaybackin1711.

Thethingis,Iwasoneofthoseyoungfirebrandswholikedadrinkeventhoughitgotmeintoafewscrapes.Quiteafew...incidents,shallwesay,ofwhichI’mnonetooproud.Butthat’sthecrossyouhavetobearifyou’realittleover-fondofthebooze;it’sraretofindadrinkerwithacleanconscience.Mostofuswillhaveconsideredknockingitontheheadatonetimeoranother,reformingourlivesandperhapsturningtoGodortryingtomakesomethingoutofourselves.Butthennooncomesaroundandyouknowwhat’sgoodforthatheadisanotherdrink,andsoyouheadforthetavern.

ThetavernsI’mreferringtowereinBristol,onthesouth-westcoastofdearoldEngland,wherewewereaccustomedtofiercewintersandglorioussummers,andthatyear,thatparticularyear,theyearthatIfirstmether,1711,likeIsay,Iwasjustseventeenyearsold.

And,yes—yes,Iwasdrunkwhenithappened.Inthosedays,you’dhavetosayIwasdrunkalotofthetime.Perhaps...well,let’snotexaggerate,Idon’twanttogiveabadaccountofmyself.Butperhapshalfofthetime.Maybeabitmore.

HomewasontheoutskirtsofavillagecalledHatherton,sevenmilesoutsideBristol,whereweranasmallholdingkeepingsheep.Father’sinterestslaywiththelivestock.Theyalwayshad,sohavingmeonboardhadfreedhimfromthe

aspectofthebusinesshemostdespised,whichwasmakingthetripsintotownwiththemerchandise,hagglingwithmerchantsandtraders,bargaining,cuttingdeals.AssoonasI’dcomeofage,bywhichImean,assoonasIwasenoughofamantomeettheeyeofourbusinessassociatesandtradeasanequal,well,that’swhatIdid.Fatherwasalltoogladtoletmedoit.

Myfather’snamewasBernard.Mymother,Linette.TheyhailedfromSwanseabuthadfoundtheirwaytotheWestCountrywhenIwastenyearsold.WestillhadtheWelshaccent.Idon’tsupposeImindedmuchthatitmarkedusoutasdifferent.Iwasasheep-farmer,notoneofthesheep.

FatherandMotherusedtosayIhadthegiftofthegab,andMotherinparticularusedtotellmeIwasagood-lookingyoungman,andthatIcouldcharmthebirdsoffthetrees,andit’strue,eventhoughIdosaysomyself,Ididhaveacertainwaywiththeladies.Let’sputitthisway:dealingwiththewivesofthemerchantswasamoresuccessfulhunting-groundthanhavingtobarterwiththeirhusbands.

HowIspentmydayswoulddependontheseason.JanuarytoMaywaslambingseason,ourbusiesttime,whenI’dfindmyselfinthebarnsbysun-up,soreheadornot,needingtoseewhetheranyeweshadlambedduringthenight.Iftheyhad,thentheyweretakenintooneofthesmallerbarnsandputintopens,lambingjugswecalledthem,whereFatherwouldtakeover,whileIwascleaningfeeders,fillingthemupagain,changingthehayandwater,andMotherwouldbeassiduouslyrecordingdetailsofthenewbirthsinajournal.Me,Ididn’thavemylettersthen.Idonow,ofcourse;Carolinetaughtmethem,alongwithmuchelsethatmademeaman,butnotbackthen,sothatdutyfelltoMother,whoseownlettersweren’tmuchbetterbutenoughtoatleastkeeparecord.

Theylovedworkingtogether,MotherandFather.EvenmorereasonwhyFatherlikedmegoingintotown.Heandmymother—itwasasthoughtheywerejoinedatthehip.Ihadneverseenanothertwopeoplesomuchinloveandwithsolittleneedtomakeadisplayofthefact.Itwasplaintowitnessthattheykepteachothergoing.Itwasgoodforthesoultosee.

Intheautumnwe’dbringtheramsthroughtothepasturetograzewiththeewes,sothattheycouldgoonwiththebusinessofproducingmorelambsforthefollowingspring.Fieldsneededtendingto;fencesandwallsrequiredbuildingandrepairing.

Inwinter,iftheweatherwasverybad,webroughtthesheepintothebarns,keptthemsafeandwarm,readyforJanuary,whenlambingseasonbegan.

ButitwasduringsummerwhenIreallycameintomyown.Shearingseason.MotherandFathercarriedoutthebulkofitwhileImademorefrequenttripsintotown,notwithcarcassesformeatbutwithmycartladenwithwool.Inthesummer,withevenmoreopportunitytodoso,Ifoundmyselffrequentingthelocaltavernsmoreandmore.YoucouldsayIbecameafamiliarsightinthetaverns,infact,inmylong,buttoned-upwaistcoat,knee-breeches,whitestockingsandtheslightlybatteredbrowntricornthatIlikedtothinkofasbeingmytrade-mark,becausemymothersaiditwentwellwithmyhair(whichwaspermanentlyinneedofacutbutquiteastrikingsandycolour,ifIdosaysomyself).

ItwasinthetavernsIdiscoveredthatmygiftofthegabwasimprovedafterafewalesatnoon.Thebooze,ithasthateffect,doesn’tit?Loosenstongues,inhibitions,morals...NotthatIwasexactlyshyandretiringwhenIwassober,buttheale,itgavemethatextraedge.Oratleastthat’swhatItoldmyselfatthetime.Afterall,themoneyfromextrasalesmadeasaresultofmyale-inspiredsalesmanshipmorethancoveredthecostofthealeinthefirstplace.Oratleastthat’swhatItoldmyselfatthetime.

Therewassomethingelsetoo,apartfromthefoolishnotionthatEdwardinhiscupswasabettersalesmanthanEdwardsober,andthatwasmystateofmind.

Becausethetruthwas,IthoughtIwasdifferent.No,IknewIwasdifferent.ThereweretimesI’dsitbymyselfatnightandknowIwasseeingtheworldinawaythatwasallmyown.IknowwhatitisnowbutIcouldn’tputitintowordsbackthenotherthantosayIfeltdifferent.

Eitherbecauseofthatordespiteit,I’ddecidedIdidn’twanttobeasheep-farmerallmylife.Iknewitthefirstday,whenIsetfootonthefarmasanemployee,andnotasachild,andIsawmyself,thenlookedatmyfather,andunderstoodthatIwasnolongerheretoplayandwouldsoongohometodreamaboutafuturesettingsailonthehighseas.No,thiswasmyfuture,andIwouldspendtherestofmylifeassheep-farmer,workingformyfather,marryingalocalgirl,siringboysandteachingthemtobecomesheep-farmers,justliketheirfather,justliketheirgrandfather.Isawtherestofmylifelaidoutforme,likeneatwork-clothesonabed,andratherthanfeelawarmsurgeofcontentmentandhappinessaboutthatfact,itterrifiedme.

Sothetruthwas,andthere’snowayofputtingitmoregently,andI’msorry,Father,Godrestyoursoul,butIhatedmyjob.Andafterafewales,well,Ihateditless,isallIcansay.WasIblottingoutmydasheddreamswiththebooze?

Probably.Ineverreallythoughtaboutitatthetime.AllIknewwasthatsittingonmyshoulder,perchedtherelikeamangycat,wasafesteringresentmentatthewaymylifewasturningout—or,worse,actuallyhadturnedout.

PerhapsIwasalittleindiscreetconcerningsomeofmytruefeelings.ImightonoccasionhavegivenmyfellowdrinkerstheimpressionthatIfeltlifehadbetterthingsinstoreforme.WhatcanIsay?Iwasyoungandarrogantandasot.Alethalcombinationatthebestoftimes,andtheseweredefinitelynotthebestoftimes.

“Youthinkyou’reabovethelikesofus,doyou?”Iheardthatalot.Orvariationsofit,atleast.Perhapsitwouldhavebeenmorediplomaticofmetoanswerinthenegative,

butIdidn’t,andsoIfoundmyselfinmorethanmyfairshareoffights.PerhapsitwastoprovethatIwasbetterthantheminallthings,fightingincluded.PerhapsbecauseinmyownwayIwasupholdingthefamilyname.AdrinkerImighthavebeen.Aseducer.Arrogant.Unreliable.Butnotacoward.Ohno.Neveronetoshrinkfromafight.

Itwasduringthesummertimewhenmyrecklessnessreacheditsheights;whenIwouldbemostdrunkandmostboisterous,andmainlyabitofapaininthearse.Butontheotherhand,allthemorelikelytohelpayoungladyindistress.

THREE

ShewasintheAuldShillelagh,atavernhalfwaybetweenHathertonandBristol,whichwasaregularhauntofmineandsometimes,inthesummerwhenMotherandFathertoiledovertheshearingathome,whenI’dmakemorefrequenttripsintotown,itwasregulartothetuneofseveraltimesaday.

IadmitIhadn’ttakenmuchnoticeofheratfirst,whichwasunusualformebecauseIlikedtopridemyselfonknowingtheexactlocationofanyprettywomannearabouts,andbesides,theShillelaghwasn’tthesortofplaceyouexpectedtofindaprettywoman.Awoman,yes.Acertaintypeofwoman.ButthisgirlIcouldseewasn’tlikethat:shewasyoung,aboutmyage,andsheworeawhitelinencoifandasmock.Lookedtomelikeadomestic.

Butitwasn’therclothesthatdrewmyattention.Itwastheloudnessofhervoice,whichyou’dhavetosaywasincompletecontrasttothewayshelooked.Shewassittingwiththreemen,allofthemolderthanher,whoIrecognizedatonce:TomCobleigh,hissonSeth,andJuliansomebody,whosesurnameescapedme,butwhoworkedwiththem:threemenwithwhomIhadtradedwordsifnotblowsbefore—thekindwholookeddowntheirnosesatmebecausetheythoughtIlookeddownmynoseatthem,wholikedmenomorethanIlikedthem,whichwasnotalot.Theyweresatforwardontheirstoolsandwatchingthisyounggirlwithleering,wolfisheyesthatbetrayedadarkerpurposeeventhoughtheywereallsmiles,thumpingonthetable,encouragingherasshedrankdryaflagonofale.

No,shedidnotlooklikeoneofthewomenwhousuallyfrequentedthetavern,butitseemedshewasdeterminedtoactlikeoneofthem.Theflagonwasaboutasbigasshewas,andasshewipedherhandacrosshermouthandhammeredittothetable,themenrespondedwithcheers,shoutingforanotheroneandnodoubtpleasedtoseeherwobbleslightlyonherstool.Probablycouldn’tbelievetheirluck.Prettylittlethinglikethat.

Iwatchedastheyletthegirldrinkyetmorealewiththesametumult

accompanyinghersuccess,thenasshedidthesameasbefore,andwipedherhandacrosshermouth,butwithanevenmorepronouncedwobblethistime,alookpassedbetweenthem.Alookthatseemedtosay,TheJobIsDone.

TomandJulianstood,andtheybegan,intheirwords,to“escort”hertothedoor,because,“You’vehadtoomuchtodrink,mylovely,let’sgetyouhome,shallwe?”

“Tobed,”smirkedSeth,thinkinghewassayingitunderhisbreatheventhoughthewholetavernheardhim.“Let’sbegettingyoutobed.”

Ipassedalooktothebarman,whodroppedhiseyesandusedhisaprontoblowhisnose.Acustomersatdownthebarfrommeturnedaway.Bastards.Mightaswellhavelookedtothecatforhelp,Ithought;thenwithasighIbangeddownmytankard,steppedoffmystoolandfollowedtheCobleighsintotheroadoutside.

IblinkedasIsteppedfromthedarknessofthetavernintobrightsunlight.Mycartwasthere,roastinginthesun;besideitanotheronethatItooktobelongtotheCobleighs.Ontheothersideoftheroadwasayardwithahousesetfarback,butnosignofafarmer.Wewerealoneonthehighway:justme,thetwoCobleighs,Julianandthegirl,ofcourse.

“Well,TomCobleigh,”Isaid,“thethingsyouseeonafineafternoon.Thingslikeyouandyourcroniesgettingdrunkandgettingapoordefencelessyoungwomanevendrunker.”

ThegirlsaggedasTomCobleighletgoherarmandturnedtoaddressme,hisfingeralreadyraised.

“Nowjustyoustayoutofthis,EdwardKenway,youyounggood-for-nothing.You’reasdrunkasIamandyermoralsjustasloose.Idon’tneedtobegivenatalkingtobythelikesofyou.”

SethandJulianhadturnedaswell.Thegirlwasglazedover,likehermindhadgonetosleepevenifherbodywasstillawake.

“Well”—Ismiled—“loosemoralsImighthave,TomCobleigh,butIdon’tneedtopouraledownagirl’sthroatbeforetakinghertobed,andIcertainlydon’tneedtwootherstohelpmeatthetask.”

TomCobleighreddened.“Why,youcheekylittlebastard,you.I’mgoingtoputheronmycartiswhatI’mgoingtodo,andtakeherhome.”

“Ihavenodoubtthatyouintendtoputheronyourcartandtakeherhome.It’swhatyouplantodobetweenputtingheronthecartandreachinghomethatconcernsme.”

“Thatconcernsyou,doesit?Abrokennoseandacoupleofbrokenribswill

beconcerningyouunlessyoumindyourownbloodybusiness.”Squinting,Iglancedatthehighway,wheretreesborderingthedirttrack

shonegoldandgreeninthesun,andinthedistancewasalonefigureonahorse,shimmeringandindistinct.

Itookastepforward,andiftherehadbeenanywarmthorhumourinmymanner,thenitdisappeared,almostofitsownaccord.TherewasasteelinessinmyvoicewhenInextspoke.

“Nowyoujustleavethatgirlalone,TomCobleigh,orIwon’tberesponsibleformyactions.”

Thethreemenlookedatoneanother.Inawaythey’ddoneasIasked.They’dletgoofthegirl,andsheseemedalmostrelievedtoslidetoherhaunches,placingonehandonthegroundandlookingatusallwithblearyeyes,evidentlyoblivioustoallthisbeingdiscussedonherbehalf.

MeanwhileIlookedattheCobleighsandweigheduptheodds.HadIeverfoughtthreeatonce?Well,no.Becauseifyouwerefightingthreeatonce,thenyouweren’tsomuchfightingasgettingbeatenup.Butcomeon,EdwardKenway,Itoldmyself.Yes,ontheonehanditwasthreemen,butoneofthemwasTomCobleigh,whowasnospringchicken,aboutmyfather’sage.AnotheronewasSethCobleigh,whowasTomCobleigh’sson.Ifyoucanimaginethekindofpersonwhowouldhelphisfathergetayounggirldrunk,well,thenyoucanimaginethatsortofpersonSethCobleighwas,whichwastosayamaggoty,underhandtype,morelikelytorunawayfromafightwithwetbreechesthanstandhisground.Andwhat’smore,theyweredrunk.

OntheotherhandIwasdrunktoo.PlustheyhadJulianwho,goingonlooksalone,couldhandlehimself.

ButIhadanotheridea.ThatloneriderIcouldseeinthedistance.IfIcouldjustholdofftheCobleighsuntilhearrived,theoddswerelikelytoshiftbackinmyfavour.Afterall,ifhewasofgoodcharacter,theloneriderwasboundtostopandhelpmeout.

“Well,Tom,”Isaid,“yougottheadvantageoverme,that’sobviousforanyonetosee,but,youknow,Ijustwouldn’tbeabletolookmymotherintheeyeknowingI’dletyouandyourcroniesabductthisprettyyoungthing.”

Iglanceduptheroadtowherethatloneriderwasgettingcloser.Comeonthen,Ithought.Don’thangabout.

“So,”Icontinued,“evenifyouendupleavingmeinabloodyheapbythesideofthishereroad,andcarrythatyounglassieoffanyway,I’mgoingtohavetodoallthatIcantomakeitasdifficultforyouaspossible.Andperhapsseeto

itthatyougoonyourwaywithablackeyeandmaybeapairofthrobbingbollocksforyourtroubles.”

TomCobleighspat,thenpeeredatmethroughwizened,slittyeyes.“That’sitthen,isit?Wellareyoujustgoingtostandtheretalkingaboutitallday,orareyougoingtoattendtoyourtask?Becausetimewaitsfornoman...”Hegrinnedanevilgrin.“I’vegotpeopletosee,thingstodo.”

“Aye,that’sright,andthelongeryouleaveit,themorechancethatpoorlassiehasofsoberingup,eh?”

“Idon’tmindtellingyou,I’mgettingtiredofallthistalk,Kenway.”HeturnedtoJulian.“Howaboutweteachthislittlebastardalesson?Oh,andonemorethingbeforewestart,MasterKenway.Youain’tfittoshineyourmother’sshoes,youunderstand?”

Thathitmehard,Idon’tmindadmitting.HavingsomeonelikeTomCobleigh,whohadallthemoralsofafrothingdogandabouthalftheintelligence,abletoreachintomysoulasifmyguiltwereanopenwound,thenstickhisthumbinthatopenwoundandcausemeevenmorepain,well,itcertainlyfirmedupmyresolve,ifnothingelse.

Julianpushedhischestforwardandwithasnarladvanced.Twostepsawayfrommeheraisedhisfists,dippedhisrightshoulderandswung.Idon’tknowwhoJulianwasusedtofightingoutsidetaverns,butsomebodywithlessexperiencethanme,that’sforsure,becauseI’dalreadytakennoteofthefactthathewasright-handed,andhecouldn’thavemadehisintentionsmoreobviousifhe’dtried.

ThedirtroseincloudsaroundmyfeetasIdodgedeasilyandbroughtmyownrightupsharply.HeshoutedinpainasIcaughthimunderthejaw.Ifithadjustbeenhim,thebattlewouldhavebeenwon,butTomCobleighwasalreadyuponme.FromthecornerofmyeyeIsawhimbutwastoolatetoreactandnextthingyouknowIwasdazedbyknucklesthatslammedintomytemple.

IstaggeredslightlyasIswungtomeettheattack,andmyfistswereswingingmuchmorewildlythanI’dhaveliked.Iwashopingtolandaluckyblow,needingtoputatleastoneofthemendowntoevenupthenumbers.ButnoneofmypunchesmadecontactasTomretreated,plusJulianhadrecoveredfrommyfirststrikewithalarmingspeedandcameatmeagain.

Hisrightcameupandconnectedwithmychin,spinningmeaboutsothatIalmostlostmybalance.Myhatspanoff,myhairwasinmyeyesandIwasindisarray.Andguesswhocameinwithhisbootskicking?ThatwormSethCobleigh,shoutingencouragementtohisfatherandJulianatthesametime.The

littlebastardwaslucky.Hisbootcaughtmeinthemidriffand,alreadyoffbalance,Ilostmyfooting.Andfell.

Theworstthingyoucandoinafightisfall.Onceyoufallit’sover.ThroughtheirlegsIsawtheloneriderupthehighway,whohadbecomemyonlychanceatsalvation,possiblymyonlyhopeofgettingoutofthisalive.ButwhatIsawmademyheartsink.Notamanonahorse,atradesmanwhowoulddismountandcomerushingtomyaid.No,theloneriderwasawoman.Shewasridingastridethehorse,notside-saddle,butdespitethatyoucouldseeshewasalady.Sheworeabonnetandalight-colouredsummerdress,andthelastthingIthought,beforetheCobleighbootsobscuredmyviewandthekickscamerainingin,wasthatshewasbeautiful.

Sowhat,though?Goodlooksweren’tgoingtosavemeatthatmoment.“Hey,”Iheard.“Youthreemen.Stopwhatyou’redoingrightnow.”Theyturnedtolookupatherandremovedtheirhats,shufflinginlinetohide

thesightofme,wholaycoughingontheground.“Whatisgoingonhere?”shedemandedtoknow.Fromthesoundofher

voiceIcouldtellshewasyoungandwhilenothigh-born,definitelywell-bred—toowell-bred,surely,toberidingunaccompanied?

“Wewerejustteachingthisyoungmanheresomemanners,”raspedTomCobleigh,outofbreath.Exhaustingbusiness,itwas,kickingmehalftodeath.

“Wellitdoesn’ttakethreeofyoutodothat,doesit?”shereplied.Icouldseeherthen,twiceasbeautifulasI’dfirstthought,asshegloweredattheCobleighsandJulian,whofortheirpartlookedthoroughlymollified.

Shedismounted.“Moretothepoint,whatareyoudoingwiththisyoungladyhere?”Sheindicatedthegirl,whostillsatdazedanddrunkontheground.

“Oh,ma’am,beggingyourpardon,ma’am,butthisisayoungfriendofourswhohashadtoomuchtodrink,”Sethsaid.

Theladydarkened.“Sheismostcertainlynotyouryoungfriend,sheisamaidservant,andifIdon’tgetherbackhomebeforemymotherdiscoversshe’sabsconded,thenshewillbeanunemployedmaidservant.”

Shelookedpointedlyfromonemantothenext.“Iknowyoumen,andIthinkIunderstandexactlywhathasbeengoingonhere.Now,youwillleavethisyoungmanaloneandbeonyourwaybeforeIamofamindtotakethisfurther.”

Withmuchbowingandscraping,JulianandtheCobleighsclamberedaboardtheircartandweresoongone.Meanwhilethewomanknelttospeaktome.Hervoicehadchanged.ShewassoftlyspokennowandIheardconcern.“MynameisCarolineScott,myfamilylivesonHawkinsLaneinBristol,letmetakeyou

backthereandtendtoyourwounds.”“Icannot,mylady,”Isaid,sittingupandtryingtomanageagrin.“Ihave

worktodo.”Shestood,frowning.“Isee.DidIassessthesituationcorrectly?”Ipickedupmyhatandbegantobrushthedirtfromit.Itwasevenmore

battered.“Youdid,mylady.”“ThenIoweyoumythanksandsowillRosewhenshesobersup.She’sa

wilfulgirl,notalwaystheeasiestofstaff,butnevertheless,Idon’twanttoseehersufferforherimpetuousness.”

Shewasanangel,Idecidedthen,andasIhelpedthemmountthehorse,CarolineholdingontoRose,whololleddrunkenlyovertheneckofthehorse,Ihadasuddenthought.

“CanIseeyouagain,mylady?TothankyouproperlywhenIlookalittlemorepresentable,perhaps?”

Shegavemearegretfullook.“Ifearmyfatherwouldnotapprove,”shesaid,andwiththatshookthereinsandleft.

ThatnightIsatbeneaththethatchofourcottage,gazingoutoverthepasturesthatrolledawayfromthefarmasthesunwentdown.Usuallymythoughtswouldbeofescapingmyfuture.

ThatnightIthoughtofCaroline.CarolineScottofHawkinsLane.

FOUR

TwodayslaterIwokeuptothesoundofscreaming.InarushIdraggedmybreechesonandhoppedoutoftheroomwithmyshirtunbuttoned,stillpullingmybootsonoverbarefeet.Iknewthatscream.Itwasmymother.Momentslaterherscreamshaddieddowntoasob,replacedbymyfather’scursing.Thesoftcursingofamanwhohadbeenprovedcorrect.

AftermyfightattheAuldShillelaghIhadreturnedinsidethetaverninordertodosomethingaboutmycutsandbruises.Tonumbthepain,sotospeak.Whatbetterwayofdoingthatthanwithadrinkortwo?Thus,whenI’deventuallyarrivedhomeI’dbeeninabitofastate.WhenIsay“state,”Imean“state,”asinamanwholookedasthoughhe’dbeeninthewars—whichIhad,withbruisestomyfaceandmyneck,andmyclothesraggedandtorn.Butalso“state,”asinamanwhohadhadfartoomuchtodrink.

EitheroneofthesetwothingswerelikelytomakeFatherangry,sowearguedandI’mashamedtosayIusedsomechoicelanguageinfrontofmymother.Ofcourse,Fatherwasfuriousaboutthat,andIfeltthebackofhishandforit.Whathadreallyenragedhimwasthatthebrawl,ashecalledit(becausehewouldn’tacceptthatI’dbeenprotectingalady’shonour,andthathewouldhavedonethesameinmyposition),hadalltakenplaceduringtheworkingday.Whathesawwasthem,exhaustedfromtheirlabours;me,gettingdrunkandintofights,sullyingthegoodnameoftheKenways,andinthisparticularcasestoringupevenmoretroubleforthefuture.

“TheCobleighs.”He’dthrownuphishandsinexasperation.“Thatlotofbadbloodyeggs,”hesaid.“Itwouldhavetobethem,wouldn’tit?Theywon’tletitgo,youknowthat,don’tyou?”

Sureenough,Irushedouttothefrontyardthatmorning,andtherewasFather,inhisworkclothes,comfortingmother,whostoodwithherheadburiedintohischest,sobbingquietly,herbacktowhatwasontheground.

Myhandwenttomymouth,seeingwhathadgreetedthem:twoslaughtered

sheep,theirthroatscut,laidsidebysideintheblood-darkeneddust.They’dbeenplacedtheresowe’dknowtheyweren’tthevictimsofafoxorwilddog.Sothatwe’dknowthesheephadbeenkilledforareason.

Awarning.Vengeance.“TheCobleighs,”Ispat,feelingragebubblelikefast-boilingwaterwithinme.

Withitcameasharp,stingingguilt.Weallknewitwasmyactionsthathadcausedthis.

Fatherdidn’tlookatme.Onhisfacewasallthesadnessandworryyou’dexpect.LikeIsay,hewasawell-respectedman,andheenjoyedthebenefitsofthatrespect;hisrelationsevenwithhiscompetitorswereconductedwithcourtesyandrespect.Hedidn’tliketheCobleighs,ofcoursehedidn’t—whodid?—buthe’dneverhadtroublebefore,eitherwiththemoranyoneelse.Thiswasthefirsttime.Thiswasnewtous.

“Iknowwhatyou’rethinking,Edward,”hesaid.Hecouldn’tbeartolookatme,Inoticed,juststoodholdingMotherwithhiseyesfixedonsomepointinthedistance.“Butyoucanthinkagain.”

“WhatamIthinking,Father?”“You’rethinkingit’syouwhohasbroughtthisuponus.You’rethinkingabout

havingitoutwiththeCobleighs.”“Well?Whatareyouthinking?Justletthemgetawaywithit?”Iindicatedthe

twobleedingcorpsesonthedirt.Livestockdestroyed.Livelihoodlost.“Theyhavetopay.”

“Itcan’tbedone,”hesaidsimply.“Whatdoyoumeanitcan’tbedone?”“Twodaysago,Iwasapproachedtojoinanorganization—aTrade

Organization,itwascalled.”WhenIlookedatmyfather,IwonderedifIwasseeinganolderversionof

myself,andmayGodstrikemedownforthinkingit,butIferventlyhopednot.He’dbeenahandsomemanonce,buthisfacewaslinedanddrawn.Thewidebrimofhisfelthatcoveredeyesthatwerealwaysturneddownandtired.

“Theywantedmetojoin,”hecontinued,“butIsaidno.LikemostofthetradesmenintheareatheCobleighshavesaidyes.TheyenjoytheprotectionoftheTradeOrganization,Edward.Whyelsedoyouthinktheywoulddosomethingsoruthless?They’reprotected.”

Iclosedmyeyes.“Isthereanythingwecando?”“Wecontinueasbefore,Edward,andhopethatthisisanendtoit,thatthe

Cobleighswillfeeltheirhonourhasbeenrestored.”Heturnedhistired,oldeyes

onmeforthefirsttime.Therewasnothinginthem,noangerorreproach.Onlydefeat.“Now,canItrustyoutogetthisclearedup,whileIseetoyourmother?”

“Yes,Father,”Isaid.HeandMothermadetheirwaybackintothecottage.“Father,”Icalled,astheyreachedthedoor,“whydidn’tyoujointheTrade

Organization?”“You’lllearnoneday,ifyouevergrowup,”hesaid,withoutturning.

FIVE

InthemeantimemythoughtsreturnedtoCaroline.ThefirstthingIdidwasfindoutwhoshewas,andbyaskingaroundHawkinsLane,Ilearntthatherfather,EmmettScott,wasawealthymerchantdealingintea,whowouldnodoubthavebeenseenasnewmoneybymostofhiscustomersbutneverthelessseemedtohaveinveigledhimselfhighupinsociety.

Now,amanlessheadstrongthanI,lesscocksure,mightwellhavechosenadifferentpathtoCaroline’sheartthantheoneIoptedfor.Afterall,herfatherwasasupplieroffineteastothewell-to-dohouseholdsintheWestCountry;hehadmoney,enoughtoemployservantsatagood-sizedhouseonHawkinsLane.Hewasnosmall-holder—therewasnogettingupat5:00A.M.tofeedthelivestockforhim.Hewasamanofmeansandinfluence.WhatIshouldhavedone—evenknowingitwouldbefutile—wastrytomakehisacquaintance.Muchofwhatsubsequentlyhappened—somuch—couldhavebeenavoidedifIhadatleasttried.

ButIdidn’t.Iwasyoung,yousee.ItwasnowonderthelikesofTomCobleighhatedme,I

wassoarrogant.DespitemysocialstatusIthoughtcurryingfavourwithateamerchantwasbelowme.

Now,onethingIknowisthatifyoulovewomen—whichIdo,I’mnotashamedtosay—youfindsomethingofbeautyineverywoman,nomatterwhetherthey’rewhatyoumightcallclassicallybeautiful.ButwithCarolineitwasmymisfortunetofallinlovewithawomanwhoseouterbeautymatchedtheinner,and,ofcourse,hercharmswerelikelytocatchtheattentionofothers.SothenextthingIdiscoveredaboutherwasthatshehadcaughttheeyeofMatthewHague,sonofSirAubreyHague,Bristol’sbiggestlandowner,andanexecutiveintheEastIndiaCompany.

FromwhatIgathered,youngMatthewwasourage,andasself-importantandjumped-upastheycome,thinkinghimselfmuchmorethanhewas.Helikedto

weartheairofashrewdmanofbusiness,likehisfather,thoughitwasclearhepossessednoneofhisfather’saptitudeinthatarea.What’smore,helikedtothinkhimselfsomethingofaphilosopherandoftendictatedhisthoughtstoadraughtsmanwhoaccompaniedhimwhereverhewent,quillandinkatthereadywhateverthecircumstancestowritedownHague’sthoughts,suchas,“Ajokeisastonetossedintowater,laughtertheripplesitmakes.”

Perhapshisutteringsweredeeplyprofound.AllIknowisthatIwouldn’thavepaidhimmuchmind—indeed,Iwouldhavejoinedinwiththegeneralderisionandlaughterthatseemedtoaccompanymentionofhisname—ifithadn’tbeenforthefactthathe’dshownaninterestinCaroline.Perhapseventhatwouldn’thaveworriedmesomuchbutfortwootherfactors.Firstly,thatCaroline’sfather,EmmettScott,hadapparentlybetrothedCarolinetotheHagueboy,andalsothefactthattheHagueboy,possiblyonaccountofhiscondescendingmanner,histendencytomakevitalmistakesineventhemostsimplebusinessdealingsandhisabilitytowindpeopleup,hadaminder,amannamedWilson,whowasanunculturedbruteofamanbutverybig,withoneslightlyclosed-upeye,whowassaidtobetough.

“Lifeisnotabattle,forbattlesaretheretobewonorlost.Lifeistobeexperienced,”MatthewHaguewasheardtodictatetohisskinnydraughtsman.

Well,ofcourse,forMatthewHaguetherewaspreciouslittlebattlinggoingon,firstlybecausehewasthesonoftheSirAubreyHague,andsecondlyhehadadirtygreatminderfollowinghimeverywhere.

•••

Soanyway,ImadeitmybusinesstofindoutwhereCarolinewouldbeonesunnyafternoon.How?Well,thatwasacaseofcallinginafavour,youcouldsay.YourememberRose,themaidservantIhelpedsavefromafateworsethandeath?IremindedherofthatfactonedaywhenIfollowedherfromHawkinsLanetothemarketandasshemadeherwaythroughthestalls,deftlyavoidingtheshoutsofthestall-holderswithabasketinthecrookofherarm,mademyintroductions.

Shedidn’trecognizeme,ofcourse.“I’msureIhavenoideawhoyouare,sir,”shesaidwithlittle,startledeyes

dartinginalldirections,asthoughheremployersmightcomea-leapingfromtheaislesbetweenthestalls.

“Well,Iknowexactlywhoyouare,Rose,”Isaid.“Itwasmewhotooka

beatingonyourbehalfoutsidetheAuldShilellaghlastweek.Drunkasyouwere,yourememberthepresenceofaGoodSamaritan,Ihope?”

Shenoddedreluctantly.Andyes,perhapsit’snotthemostgentlemanlythingtodo,touseayounglady’sunfortunatecircumstancesinsuchamercenaryfashion,to...well,Iwouldn’tgoasfarastosayblackmail,buttoleverageinformationfromher,buttherewehaveit.Iwassmittenand,giventhatmypenmanshipskillswerenonexistent,haddecidedthataface-to-faceencounterwithCarolinewasthebestwaytobegintheprocessofwinningherheart.

Charmthebirdsoutthetrees,see?Well,itworkedontraders,andontheoccasionalyoungladyIencounteredinthetaverns.Whynotonsomeoneofhigh-bornstock?

FromRoseIlearntthatCarolineenjoyedtakingtheairattheBristoldocksonaTuesdayafternoon.But,shesaid,withaquicklooklefttoright,IshouldbewaryofMr.Hague.HimandhismanservantWilson.Mr.HaguewasmostkeenonCaroline,soRosesaid,andwasveryprotectiveofher.

SoitwasthatthefollowingmorningImadesureItookatripintotown,movedmygoodsasquicklyaspossible,thenmademywaydowntotheharbour.Theretheairwasthickwiththescentofsea-salt,manureandboilingpitch,andrangtothecriesofsea-gullsandtheendlessshoutsofthosewhomadethedockstheirplaceofwork:crewscallingtooneanotherastheyloadedandunloadedshipswhosemastsrockedslightlyinagentlebreeze.

IcouldseewhyCarolinemightlikeithere.Alllifewasontheharbour.Fromthemenwithbasketsoffreshlypickedapplesorpheasantshangingontwinearoundtheirnecks,tothetradesmenwhomerelydepositedbasketsonthequaysideandholleredatvisitingdeck-hands,tothewomenwithfabric,persuadingjack-tarstheyweregettingabargain.Therewerechildrenwhohadflowersortindertosell,orwhoranthroughthelegsofsailorsanddodgedthetraders,almostasanonymousasthedogsthatslunkaroundtheharbourwallsandsnuffledatthepilesofrubbishandrottingfoodswepttherefromthedaybefore.

AmongthemallwasCaroline,who,withabowinherbonnet,aparasoloveroneshoulder,andRosearespectfulfewfeetbehindher,lookedeveryinchthelady.Andyet,Inoticed—Ikeptmyowndistanceforthetimebeing,needingtochoosemymoment—shedidn’tlookdownhernoseattheactivityaroundher,asshesoeasilycouldhavedone.Herattractiontotheplacewasnotoneofprurientinterest.FromherdemeanourIcouldtellthatshe,likeme,enjoyedseeinglifeinallitsforms.Iwondered,didshealso,likeme,everlookouttoaseathat

glitteredwithtreasure,mastsofshipstiltinggently,gullsflyingtowardswheretheworldbegan,andwonderwhatstoriesthehorizonshadtotell?

Iamaromanticman,it’strue,butnotaromanticfool,andtherehadbeenmomentssincethatdayoutsidethetavernwhenI’dwonderedifmygrowingaffectionsforCarolinewerenotpartlyaninventionofmymind.Shehadbeenmysaviour,afterall.Butthen,asIwalkedalongtheharbour,Ifellforheranew.

DidIexpecttospeaktoCarolineinmysheep-farmer’sclothes?Ofcoursenot.I’dtakentheprecautionofchangingandtradedmydirtybootsforapairofsilver-buckledshoes,neatwhitestockingsanddarkbreeches,afreshlylaunderedwaistcoatovermyshirt,andamatchingthree-corneredhatinsteadofmytrustybrownhat.Ilookedquitethegentleman,ifIdosaysomyself:Iwasyoung,good-lookingandfullofconfidence,thesonofawell-respectedtradesmaninthearea.AKenway.Thenamehadsomething,atleast(despitemyattemptsotherwise),andIalsohadwithmeayoungroguebythenameofAlbert,whoIhadbribedtodoajobforme.Itdoesn’ttakemuchgreymattertoguessthenatureofthejob:hewastohelpmeimpressthefairCaroline.OnetransactionwithaflowergirllaterandIhadthemeanstodoittoo.

“Right,youremembertheplan,”ItoldAlbert,wholookedupatmefrombeneaththebrimofhishatwitheyesthatweresomucholderthanhisyearsandaboredheard-it-all-beforelookonhisface.

“Right,mate,you’retogivethissprayofflowerstothatfine-lookingladyoverthere.Shewillstop.Shewillsaytoyou,‘Ah,youngfellow,forwhatreasonareyoupresentingmewiththeseflowers?’Andyouwillpointoverhere.”IindicatedwhereIwouldbestanding,proudasapeacock.Carolinewouldeitherrecognizemefromtheotherday,orattheveryleastwishtothankhermysteriousbenefactor,andinstructAlberttoinvitemeover,atwhichpointthecharmoffensivewouldbegin.

“What’sinitforme?”askedAlbert.“What’sinitforyou?HowaboutcountingyourselfluckyIdon’tgiveyoua

thickear?”Hecurledalip.“Howaboutyoutakingarunningjumpoffthesideofthe

harbour?”“Allright,”Isaid,knowingwhenIwasbeaten,“there’shalfapennyinitfor

you.”“Halfapenny?Isthatthebestyoucando?”“Asamatteroffact,SonnyJim,itisthebestIcanbloodydo,andforwalking

acrosstheharbourandpresentingaflowertoabeautifulwoman,it’salsothe

easiesthalfpenny’sworkthereeverwas.”“Ain’tshegotasuitorwithher?”Albertcranedhisnecktolook.Ofcourse,itwouldsoonbecomeapparentexactlywhyAlbertwantedto

knowwhetherCarolinehadanescort.ButatthatparticularmomentintimeItookhisinterestfornothingmorethancuriosity.Someidleconversation.SoItoldhimthat,no,shehadnosuitor,andIgavehimthesprayofflowersandhishalfpennyandsenthimonhisway.

Itwasashesaunteredoverthatsomethinghewashold-inginhisotherhandcaughtmyeye,andIrealizedwhatamistakeI’dmade.

Itwasatinybladeandhiseyeswerefixedonherarm,whereherpursehungonaribbon.

OhGod,Irealized.Acut-purse.YoungAlbertwasacut-purse.“Youlittlebastard,”Isaidundermybreath,andimmediatelysetoffacross

theharbourafterhim.Bythenhewashalfwaybetweenus,butbeingsmallwasabletoslipbetween

theseethingcrowdsmorequickly.IsawCaroline,oblivioustotheapproachingdanger—dangerthatIhadinadvertentlysentintoherpath.

ThenextthingIsawwerethreemen,whowerealsomakingtheirwaytowardsCaroline.ThreemenIrecognized:MatthewHague,hisskinnywritingcompanion,andhisminder,Wilson.InwardlyIcringed.EvenmoresowhenIsawWilson’seyesflickfromCarolinetoAlbertandbackagain.Hewasgood,youcouldtell.Inaheartbeathehadseenwhatwasabouttohappen.

Istopped.ForasecondIwastotallyflummoxedanddidn’tknowwhattodonext.

“Oi,”shoutedWilson,hisgrufftonescuttingacrosstheendlesssquawking,chatting,hawkingoftheday.

“Oi,you!”HesurgedforwardbutAlberthadreachedCarolineandinonealmostimpossiblyfastandfluidgesturehishandsnakedout,theribbonofCaroline’spursewascutandthetinysilkbagdroppedneatlyintoAlbert’sotherhand.

Carolinedidn’tnoticethetheftbutshecouldn’tfailtoseethehugefigureofWilsonbearingdownuponherandshecriedoutinsurprise,evenashelungedpastherandgrabbedAlbertbytheshoulders.

“Thisyoungrapscallionhassomethingthatbelongstoyou,miss,”roaredWilson,shakingAlbertsohardthatthesilkpursedroppedtothefloor.

Hereyeswenttothepurse,thentoAlbert.“Isthistrue?”shesaid,thoughtheevidencewasinfrontofhereyes,andin

fact,currentlysatinasmallpileofhorsemanurebytheirfeet.“Pickitup,pickitup,”Haguewassayingtohisskinnycompanion,having

justarrivedandalreadybeginningtobehaveasthoughitwashewhohadapprehendedtheknife-wieldingyouthandnothissix-and-a-half-footminder.

“Teachtheyoungruffianalesson,Wilson.”Haguewavedhishandasthoughattemptingtowardoffsomeespeciallynoxiousflatulence.

“Withpleasure,sir.”Therewerestillseveralfeetbetweenmeandthem.Hewasheldfastbut

Albert’seyesswivelledfromlookingterrifiedatWilsontowhereIstoodinthecrowdandasoureyesmet,hestaredatmebeseechingly.

Iclenchedmyteeth.Thatlittlebastard,hehadbeenabouttoruinallofmyplansandtherehewas,lookingtomeforhelp.Thecheekofhim.

ButthenWilson,holdinghimbythescruffoftheneckwithonehand,drovehisfistintoAlbert’sstomachandthatwasitforme.ThatsamesenseofinjusticeIfeltatthetavernwasreignitedandinasecondIwasshovingthroughthecrowdtoAlbert’said.

“Hey,”Ishouted.Wilsonswungtoseeme,andthoughhewasbiggerthanme,andfaruglierthanme,I’djustseenhimhitachildandmybloodwasup.It’snotanespeciallygentlemanlywaytoconductafight,butIknewfromexperiencebothasgiverandreceiverthattherewasnoquickerandcleanerwaytoputamandown,soIdidit.Iledwiththeknee.Mykneeintohisbollocks,tobeprecise,soquickandsohardthatwhereonesecondWilsonwasasnarlinghugebullyabouttomeetmyattack,thenexthewasasnivellingmewlingheapofaman,hishandsgraspingathisgroinashearrivedonthefloor.

HeedlessofMatthewHague’soutragedscreaming,IgrabbedAlbert.“Saysorrytothelady,”Iorderedhim,withfingerinhisface.

“Sorry,miss,”saidAlbertobediently.“Nowhopit,”Isaid,andpointedhimoffdowntheharbour.Heneededno

secondinvitationandinatricewasgone,promptingevenmoreprotestationsfromMatthewHague,andIthankedGodthatatleastAlbertwasoutofthepictureandunabletodomein.

IhadsavedAlbertfromgettingaworsebeatingbutmyvictorywasshort-lived.Wilsonwasalreadyonhisfeetandthoughhisbollocksmusthavebeenthrobbingsomethingrotten,hewasn’tfeelinganythingatthatmomentexceptrage.HewasquicktooandbeforeIhadtimetoreacthadgrabbedmeandwasholdingmefirm.Itriedtopullaway,dippingoneshoulderanddrivingmyfistuptowardshissolarplexus,butIdidn’thavethemomentumandheusedhis

bodytoblockme,gruntingasmuchwithsatisfactionaswitheffortashedraggedmebodilyacrosstheharbour,peoplescatteringbeforehim.InafairfightIwouldhavehadachance,butheusedhissuperiorstrengthandhissuddenrage-fuelledspurtofspeedtohisadvantage,andinthenextmomentmyfeetwerekickinginthinairasheflungmeoffthesideoftheharbour.

Well,Ialwaysdreamedoftakingtothehighseas,andwiththesoundoflaughterringinginmyearsIpulledmyselftothenearestropeladderandbegantoclimbout.Caroline,Rose,Hagueandhistwomenhadalreadygone;Isawahandreachtohelpmeup.

“Here,mate,letmehelpyouwiththat,”saidavoice.Ilookedupgratefully,abouttoclaspthehandofmySamaritan,onlytoseetheleeringfaceofTomCobleighpeeringovertheharbour’sedgeatme.

“Well,thethingsyouseewhenyou’reoutwithoutyourmusket,”hesaidandtherewasnothingIcoulddotopreventhisfistsmashingintomyface,sendingmeofftheropeladderandbackintothewater.

SIX

TomCobleighhadmadehimselfscarce,butWilsonmusthavedoubledback.Chancesare,hesawtoitthatHagueandCarolinewereokaythenmadehastebacktotheharbourandfoundmesittingonasetofstepslickingmywounds.HepassedacrossmylightandIlookeduptoseehim,heartsinking.

“Ifyou’vecomebacktotrythatagain,”Isaid,“Iwon’tmakeitquitesoeasyforyouthistime.”

“Ihavenodoubt,”herepliedwithoutsomuchasflinching,“butI’mnotheretopitchyoubackinthesea,Kenway.”

AtthatIlookedsharplyathim.“That’sright,boy,Ihavemyspies,andmyspiestellmethatayoung

gentlemanbythenameofEdwardKenwayhasbeenaskingquestionsaboutCarolineScott.ThissameyounggentlemanbythenameofEdwardKenwaywasinvolvedinafightoutsidetheAuldShillelaghontheroadtoHathertonlastweek.ThatsamedayMissScottwasalsoontheroadtoHathertonbecausehermaidservanthadabscondedandthatyouandMissScotthadcausetospeakfollowingyouraltercation.”

HecamesocloseIcouldsmellthestalecoffeeonhisbreath.Proof,ifproofwereneeded,thathewasn’tintheslightestbitintimidated—notbymenorbymyfearsomereputation.

“AmIontherightlinessofar,MasterKenway?”“Youmightbe.”Henodded.“Ithoughtso.Howoldareyou,boy?What?Seventeen?About

thesameageasMissScott.Methinksyou’renurturingabitofapassionforher,amIright?”

“Youmightbe.”“IthinkIam.Now,I’mgoingtosaythisonceandonceonly,butMissScott

ispromisedtoMr.Hague.Thisunionhastheblessingoftheparents...”Hehauledmetomyfeet,pinningmyarmstomysides.Toowet,toobedraggled,too

exhaustedtoresist,Iknewwhatwascominganyway.“Now,ifIseeyouhangingaroundheragain,ortryinganymorestupidstunts

totryandgetherattention,thenit’llbemorethanadipintheseayouget,doImakemyselfclear?”

Inodded.“Andwhataboutthekneeinthegooliesyou’reabouttogiveme?”Hesmiledgrimly.“Oh,that?That’spersonal.”Hecamegoodonhisword,anditwassometimebeforeIwasabletogetto

myfeetandmakemywaybacktomycart.Itwasn’tjustmytacklethatwasinjured—mypridehadtakenabeatingtoo.

SEVEN

ThatnightIlayinbed,cursingmyluck.IhadblownmychanceswithCaroline.Shewaslosttome,allthankstothatgreedyurchinAlbert,nottomentionHagueandcompany.IhadsufferedoncemoreatthehandsofTomCobleigh,andFatherhadlookedatmeaskancewhenI’darrivedhome,alittlelaterthanusualand,eventhoughIhadachangeofclothing,alittlemorebedraggled.

“You’venotbeeninthosetavernsagain?”Hesaid,darkly,“SohelpmeGod,ifIhearyou’vebeendraggingourgoodname...”

“No,Father,nothinglikethat.”Hewaswrong,I’dnotbeentothetavernonmywayhome.InfactI’dnot

gonewithinsniffingdistanceofanale-housesincethefightoutsidetheAuldShillelagh.I’dbeentellingmyselfthatmeetingCarolinehadhadaneffectonme.Quiteliterallyasoberingeffect.

Now,though,Ididn’tknow.Ibegantowonder—perhapsmylifewasthere,inthebeersuds,aroundthesloppygrinsofeasywomenwithhardlyanyteethandevenfewermorals,andbythetimeofmythirtiethsummerhaulingwooltoBristolmarketI’dbenumbedtoit;I’dhaveforgottenwhateverhopesIhadofonedayseeingtheworld.

Thentwothingshappenedthatchangedeverything.ThefirstcameintheshapeofagentlemanwhotookhisplacenexttomeatthebaroftheGeorgeandDragoninBristolonesunnyafternoon.Asmartlydressedgentlemanwithflamboyantcuffsandacolourfulnecktie,whoremovedhishat,placedittothebarandindicatedmydrink.

“CanIgetyouanother,sir?”heaskedme.Itmadeachangefrom“son,”“lad”or“boy.”AllofwhichIhadtoendureon

adailyifnothourlybasis.“AndwhodoIhavetothankformydrink?Andwhatmighthewantin

return?”Iaskedguardedly.“Perhapsjustthechancetotalk,friend,”beamedtheman.Heprofferedhis

handtoshake.“ThenameisDylanWallace,pleasedtomakeyouracquaintanceMr....Kenway,isn’tit?”

ForthesecondtimeinamatterofdaysIwaspresentedwithsomeonewhoknewmynamethoughIhadnoideawhy.

“Ohyes,”hesaid,beaming.(HewasatleastofamorefriendlynaturethanWilson,Ireflected.)“Iknowyourname.EdwardKenway.Quitethereputationyouhavearoundtheseparts.Indeed,I’veseenyouinactionformyself.”

“Haveyou?”Ilookedathim,eyesnarrowed.“Whyyesindeed,”hesaid.“IhearfromthepeopleI’vespokentothatyou’re

nostrangertoabitofascuffle,butevenso,youcan’thaveforgottenyourfightattheAuldShillelaghtheotherday.”

“Idon’tthinkI’mgoingtobeallowedtoforgetit.”Isighed.“WhenItellyouwhat,sir,I’mjustgoingtocomestraightoutwithit,because

youlooklikeayoungmanwhoknowshisownmindandisunlikelytobepersuadedonewayortheotherbyanythingImighthavetotellyou,soI’mjustgoingtocomerightoutwithit.Haveyoueverthoughtofgoingtosea?”

“Well,nowthatyoucometomentionit,Mr.Wallace,IhadonceconsideredleavingBristolheadinginthatdirection,you’reright.”

“Sowhat’sstoppingyou?”Ishookmyhead.“Nowthatisaverygoodquestion.”“Doyouknowwhataprivateeris,Mr.Kenway,sir?”BeforeIcouldanswerhewastellingme.“They’rebuccaneersgivenlettersof

marquebytheCrown.Yousee,theDonsandthePortuguesearehelpingthemselvestothetreasuresoftheNewWorld,they’refillingtheircoffers,andit’sthejobofprivateerseithertostopthemortotakewhatthey’retaking.Doyouunderstand?”

“Iknowwhataprivateeris,thankyouverymuch,Mr.Wallace.Iknowthatyoucan’tbeputontrialforpiracy,solongasyoudon’tattackshipsbelongingtoyourowncountry,that’sit,isn’tit?”

“Oh,that’sit,Mr.Kenway,sir.”DylanWallacegrinned.“HowwoulditbeifIleanedoverandwastohelpmyselftoamugofale?That’dbestealing,wouldn’tit?Thebarmanmighttrytostopme,butwhatifIwasdoingitwithimpunity.Whatifmythefthadtheroyalsealofapproval?Thisiswhatwearetalkingabout,Mr.Kenway.Theopportunitytogooutonthehighseasandhelpyourselftoasmuchgoldandtreasureasyourcaptain’sshipwillcarry.BydoingsoyouwillnotonlybeworkingwiththeapprovalofHerMajestyQueenAnnebuthelpingher.You’veheardofCaptainChristopherNewport,FrancisDrake,

AdmiralSirHenryMorgan,privateersall.HowaboutaddingthenameEdwardKenwaytothatillustriouslist?”

“Whatareyousaying?”“I’msayinghowaboutbecomingaprivateer,sir?”Igavehimastudyinglook.“AndifIpromisetothinkaboutit,what’sinitfor

you?”“Why,commission,ofcourse.”“Don’tyounormallypressmenforthiskindofthing?”“Notmenofyourcalibre,Mr.Kenway.Notmenwemightconsiderofficer

material.”“AllbecauseIshowedpromiseinafight?”“Becauseofthewayyouconductedyourselfinthatfight,Mr.Kenway,inall

aspectsofit.”Inodded.“IfIpromisetothinkaboutit,doesthatmeanIdon’tneedtoreturn

thefavourofanale?”

EIGHT

IwenttobedthatnightknowingIhadtotellFatherthatmydestinylaynotinsheep-farmingbutinswashbucklingadventureasaprivateer.

He’dbedisappointed,ofcourse,butmaybesomewhatrelievedalso.Yes,ononehandIhadbeenanasset,andhaddevelopedtradingskills,putthemtogooduseforthebenefitofthefamily.Butontheotherhandtherewasthedrinking,thebrawling,and,ofcourse,theriftwiththeCobleighs.

Shortlyafterthetwodeadcarcasseshadbeendepositedinourfrontyardthere’dbeenanotherincidentwherewewoketofindtheflockhadbeenletoutinthenight.Fatherthoughtthefenceshadbeendeliberatelydamaged.Ididn’ttellFatheraboutwhathadhappenedatthequayside,butitwasobviousTomCobleighstillharbouredagrudge—agrudgethatwasn’tlikelytogoawayanytimesoon.

IhadbroughtitdownonFather’sheadandwithoutmeinthepicture,thenperhapsthevendettawouldend.

SoasIlaidmyheaddownthatnight,myonlydecisionwashowtobreakthenewstomyfather.Andhowmyfathermightbreakthenewstomymother.

ThenIheardsomethingfromthewindow.Atapping.Ilookedoutwithnolittletrepidation.WhatdidIexpecttosee?Iwasn’tsure,

butmemoriesoftheCobleighswerestillfreshinmymind.InsteadwhatIsaw,sittingastrideherhorseinthepalemoonlightoftheyard,asthoughGodhimselfwereshininghislanternuponherbeauty,wasCarolineScott.

Shewasdressedasifforridingschool.Herclothesweredark.Sheworeatallhatandawhiteshirtandblackjacket.Withonehandsheheldthereinsandtheotherwasraised,abouttothrowasecondfistfulofgravelatmywindow.

Imyselfhadbeenknowntousetheverysametricktoattracttheattentionofaladyfriend,andIrememberedwelltheterrorofwakingupthewholehousehold.SowhenIthrewstonesatacasementwindow,Iusuallydiditfrombehindthesafetyofastonewall.NotCaroline.Thatwasthedifferenceinour

socialstanding.Shehadnofearsofbeingrunoffthepropertywithabootinherbehindandafleainherear.ShewasCarolineScottofHawkinsLaneinBristol.ShewasbeingcourtedbythesonofamanrankedhighlyintheEastIndiaCompany.Clandestineassignationornot—andtherewasnodoubtthiswasclandestine—hidingbehindstonewallswasnotforher.

“Well...”shewhispered.Isawhereyesdanceinthemoonlight.“Areyougoingtoleavemesittingouthereallnight?”

No.InmomentsIwasintheyardbyherside,takingthereinsofthehorseandwalkingherawayfromthepropertyaswespoke.

“Youractionstheotherday,”shesaid.“Youputyourselfingreatdangerinordertoprotectthatyoungthief.”

(Yes,yes,Iknowwhatyou’rethinking.Yes,Ididfeelalittleguiltatthat.)(Butnottoomuchguilt.)“ThereisnothingIhatesomuchasabully,MissScott,”Isaid.Whichdidat

leasthavethebenefitofbeingtrue.“SoIthought.ThisistwicenowIhavebeenmostimpressedbythegallantry

ofyouractions.”“ThenitisontwooccasionsthatIhavebeenpleasedyouwerethereto

witnessit.”“Youinterestme,Mr.Kenway,andyourowninterestinmehasnotgone

unremarked.”Istayedsilentaswewalkedforawhile.Eventhoughnowordswerespoken

therewasameaninginoursilence.Asthoughwewereacknowledgingourfeelingsforeachother.Ifelttheclosenessofherridingboot.Abovetheheatandscentofthehorse,IthoughtIcouldsmellthepowdershewore.NeverbeforehadIbeensoawareofaperson,thenearnessofher.

“IexpectyouhavebeentoldthatIambetrothedtoanother,”shesaid.Westoppedalongthelane.Therewerestonewallsoneithersideofus,the

greenpasturesbeyondinterruptedbyclustersofwhitesheep.Theairwaswarmanddryaroundus,notevenabreezetodisturbthetreesthatrosetomakethehorizon.Fromsomewherecamethecryofananimal,lovelornorhurt,butcertainlyferal,andasuddendisturbanceinthebushesstartledus.Wefeltlikeinterlopers.Uninvitedgueststonature’shousehold.

“Why,Idon’tthink...”“Mr.Kenway...”“YoucancallmeEdward,MissScott.”“WellyoucancontinuecallingmeMissScott.”

“Really?”“Ohgoonthen,youcancallmeCaroline.”“Thankyou,MissScott.”Shegavemeasidewayslook,asthoughtocheckwhetherornotIwas

mockingher.“Well,Edward,”shecontinued,“Iknowfullwellthatyouhavebeenmaking

enquiriesaboutme,andthoughIdonotpretendtoknowexactlywhatyouhavebeentold,IthinkIknowthegist.ThatCarolineScott’sbetrothedtoMatthewHague,thatMatthewHaguebombardsherwithlovepoems,thattheunionhastheblessingnotonlyofCarolineScott’sfather,whichwasbeyonddoubt,butalsoofMatthewHague’sfather.”

IadmittedIhadheardasmuch.“Perhaps,intheshortdealingswehavehadtogether,youmightunderstand

howIwouldfeelaboutthisparticulararrangement?”“Iwouldn’tliketosay.”“ThenIshallspellitoutforyou.ThethoughtofmarriagetoMatthewHague

turnsmystomach.DoyouthinkIwanttolivemylifeinthehouseholdoftheHagues?Expectedtotreatmyhusbandlikeaking,turnablindeyetohisaffairs,runthehousehold,shoutatthestaff,chooseflowersandpickoutdoilies,govisiting,taketea,tradegossipwithotherwives?

“DoyouthinkIwanttohidemyselfsodeeplybeneathanobsessionwithmannersandburymyselfsocompletelybeneaththepettyconcernsofetiquettethatIcannolongerfindmyself?AtthemomentIlivebetweentwoworlds,Edward,abletoseethemboth.AndtheworldIseeonmyvisitstotheharbouristheworldthatismostrealtome,Edward.Theonethatismostalive.AsforMatthewHaguehimself,Idespisehimalmostasmuchashispoetry.

“Donotthinkmeahelplessdamselindistress,Edward,becauseIamnotthat.ButI’mnothereforyourhelp.Ihavecometohelpmyself.”

“You’vecometohelpyourselftome?”“Ifyouwish.Thenextmoveisyourstomake,butifyoumakeit,doso

knowingthis:anyrelationshipbetweenyouandmewouldnothavetheblessingofmyfather,butitwouldhavemine.”

“Excusemebutit’snotsomuchyourfatherwhoconcernsme,ashismusket.”

“ThethoughtofmakinganenemyoftheHagues,doesthatputyouoff?”Iknewatthatmomentnothingwouldputmeoff.“No,Caroline,itdoesn’t.”“Ihopedasmuch.”

Weparted,witharrangementsmadetomeetagain,andafterthat,ourrelationshipbeganinearnest.Wewereabletokeepitasecret.Forsomemonths,infact.Ourmeetingswereheldentirelyinsecret,snatchedmomentsspentwanderingthelanesbetweenBristolandHatherton,ridinginthepastures.

UntilonedaysheannouncedthatMatthewHagueplannedtoaskforherhandinmarriagethefollowingmorning,andmyheartstopped.

Iwasdeterminednottoloseher.Becauseofmyloveforher,becauseIcouldthinkofnothingbuther,becausewhenweweretogetherIsavouredeverymoment;everyword,everygesturethatCarolinemadewaslikenectartome,everythingabouther,everycurveandcontour,herscent,herlaugh,herrefinedmanners,herintelligence.

AllofthisranthroughmymindasIdroppedtoonekneeandtookherhand,becausewhatshewastellingme,perhapsitwasn’taninvitationbutafarewell,andifitwas,wellatleastmyhumiliationwouldnotbeknownfarandwide,confinedtothebirdsinthetreesandthecowsthatstoodinthefieldswatchinguswithsleepyeyesandchewingruminatively.

“Caroline,willyoumarryme?”Isaid.Iheldmybreath.Duringourcourtship,everymeetingwe’dhad,everystolen

kisswe’dshared,I’dbeenhauntedbyafeelingofnotbelievingmyluck.Itwasasthoughagreatjokewasbeingplayedonme—IhalfexpectedTomCobleightocomeleapingoutoftheshadowssnortingwithlaughter.Andifnotthat—ifnotsomevengeful,practicaljokeatmyexpense—thenperhapsIwasmerelyadiversionforCaroline,afinalfling,beforesheappliedherselftohertruecalling,herduty.Surelyshewouldsayno.

“Ah,Edward”—shesmiled—“Ithoughtyou’dneverask.”

NINE

Istillcouldn’tacceptit,though,andIfoundmyselftravellingintotownthenextday,myjourneytakingmetoHawkinsLane.AllIknewwasthatMatthewHagueplannedtopayheravisitinthemorning,andasIsidledupthehighwayandpassedtherowofhousesamongwhichwashers,Iwonderedifhewasintherealready,perhapsmakinghisproposal.

OnethingIknewofCaroline,shewasabravewoman,perhapsthebravestI’deverknown,butevenso,shewaspassinguptheopportunitytolivetherestofherdaysinpamperedluxury;and,worse,shewasgoingtoscandalizehermotherandfather.Iknewonlytoowellthepressuresoftryingtopleaseaparent,howtemptingitwastogodownthatroute.Anunfulfilledsoul,orasoultroubledwithguilt—whichwasthehardestcrosstobear?

Withmestandingbeforeher—andshelovedme,I’msureofthat—perhapsthedecisionwaseasiertomake.Butwhataboutatnight,whenmisgivingsmadetheirroundsanddoubtcamevisiting?Perhapsshemightsimplyhavechangedhermindovernightandshewas,atthisverymomentintime,blushinginheracceptanceofMatthewHague’sproposalandmentallywritingalettertome.

Ifthathappened,well,therewasalwaysDylanWallace,Isupposed.ButthenfromthecornerofmyeyeIsawthefrontdooropenandWilson

appear,quicklyfollowedbythedraughtsmanandbehindthemMatthewHague,whoofferedhisarmforCaroline,Rosetakinguptherearastheybegantheirperambulations.

Stayingsomedistancebehind,Ifollowed,allthewaytotheharbour,puzzlingoverhisintentions.Nottheharbour,surely?Thedirty,smelly,crowdedharbour,withitsstenchofmanureandburningpitchandjust-caughtfishandmenwhohadreturnedfrommonthsawayatseawithoutsomuchasabathduringthattime.

Theyweremakingtheirwaytowardswhatlookedlikeaschoonermooredatthedock,aroundwhichweregatheredsomemen.Itwasdifficulttotell,though,

becausehangingfromthebackoftheshipwassomekindofcanvasobscuringthenameofthevessel.However,asthegroupdrewclosertoitIthoughtIknewwhatitwas.IthoughtIknewhisplan.

Sureenough,theystoppedbeforeitandstilloutofsightIwatchedasCaroline’seyesflickednervouslyfromMatthewHaguetotheschooner,guessingthatshetoohadworkedoutthepurposeoftheirvisit.

NextthingIknew,Haguewasdownononeknee,andthestaffoftheschooner,Wilsonandthedraughtsman,wereallstandingwiththeirhandsbehindtheirbacksreadyfortheroundofapplausewhenMatthewHaguepoppedhisquestion:“Mydarling,wouldyoudomethehonourofbecomingmywife?”

Carolineswallowedandstammered,“Matthew,mustwedothishere?”Heshotherapatronizinglook,then,withanexpansivegestureofhishand,

orderedthecanvascomeofftherearoftheschooner.Thereetchedinagoldleafwasthevessel’sname:CAROLINE.

“Whatbetterplace,mydear?”Ifithadn’tbeenforthesituationImightevenhaveslightlyenjoyedthesight

ofCarolineataloss.Usuallyshewasnothingifnotsureofherself.ThedoubtandnearpanicIsawinhereyes,Isuspect,wasasnewtoherasitwastome.

“Matthew,Imustsay,you’reembarrassingme.”“Mydear,dearCaroline,mypreciousflower...”Hegaveasmallgestureto

hisdraughtsman,whoimmediatelybeganrootingaroundforhisquillinordertorecordhismaster’spoeticwords.

“ButhowelsewouldIhaveunveiledmymaritalgifttoyou?Now,Imustpressyouforananswer.Please,withallthesepeoplewatching...”

Yes,Irealizedlookingaround,theentireharbourseemedtohavehalted,everybodyhangingonCaroline’snextwords,whichwere...

“No,Matthew.”Haguestoodupsosharplythathisdraughtsmanwasforcedtoscurry

backwardsandalmostlosthisfooting.Hague’sfacedarkened,andhislipspursedashefoughttoretaincomposureandforcedasmile.

“Oneofyourlittlejokes,perhaps?”“Ifearnot,Matthew,Iambetrothedtoanother.”HaguedrewhimselfuptohisfullheightasthoughtointimidateCaroline.

Standingbackinthecrowd,Ifeltmybloodrisingandbegantomakemywayforward.“Toanother,”hecroaked.“Justwhoisthisotherman?”“Me,sir,”Iannounced,havingreachedthefrontofthecrowdandpresented

myselftohim.Helookedatmewithnarrowedeyes.“You.”Hespat.FrombehindhimWilsonwasalreadymovingforward,andinhiseyesIcould

seehisfurythatI’dfailedtoheedhiswarning.Andhowthatbecamehisfailure.WithanoutstretchedarmHaguestoppedhim.“No,Wilson,”hesaid,adding

pointedly,“nothere.Notnow.I’msuremyladymaywanttoreconsider.”ArippleofsurpriseandIguessnotalittlehumourhadtravelledthroughthe

crowdanditroseagainasCarolinesaid,“No,Matthew,EdwardandIaretobemarried.”

Heroundedonher.“Doesyourfatherknowaboutthis?”“Notyet,”shesaid,thenadded,“I’veafeelinghesoonwill,though.”ForamomentHaguesimplystoodandtrembledwithrage,andforthefirst,

butasitwouldturnoutnotthelasttime,Iactuallyfeltsympathyforhim.Inthenextinstanthewasbarkingatbystanderstogetbacktotheirwork,thenshoutingattheschoonercrewtoreplacethecanvas,thencallingtoWilsonandhisdraughtsmantoleavetheharbour,turninghisbackpointedlyonCarolineandofferingmealookofhateasheexited.AthisrearwasWilsonandoureyeslocked.Slowly,hedrewafingeracrosshisthroat.

Ishouldn’thavedoneitreally,Wilsonwasnotamantoprovoke,butIcouldn’thelpmyselfandreturnedhisdeaththreatwithacheekywink.

TEN

ThatwashowBristolcametoknowthatEdwardKenway,asheep-farmerworthamereseventy-fivepoundsayear,wastomarryCarolineScott.

Whatascandalitwas:CarolineScottmarryingbeneathherwouldhavebeencauseforgossipenough.ThatshehadspurnedMatthewHagueintheprocessconstitutedquiteastir,andIwonderifthatscandalmightultimatelyhaveworkedinourfavour,becausewhileIsteeledmyselfforretribution—andforawhileIlookedforWilsonroundeverycorner,andmyfirstglancefromthewindowtotheyardeachmorningwasfilledwithtrepidation—nonecame.IsawnothingofWilson,heardnothingofMatthewHague.

Intheend,thethreattoourmarriagecamenotfromoutside—notfromtheCobleighs,EmmettScott,MatthewHagueorWilson.Itcamefromtheinside.Itcamefromme.

I’vehadplentyoftimetothinkaboutthereasonswhy,ofcourse.TheproblemwasthatIkeptreturningtomymeetingwithDylanWallaceandhispromisesofrichesintheWestIndies.IwantedtogoandreturntoCarolinearichman.Ihadbeguntoseeitasmyonlychanceofmakingasuccessofmyself.Myonlychanceofbeingworthyofher.For,ofcourse,yes,therewastheimmediateglory,orperhapsyoumightsaystature,ofhavingmadeCarolineScottmywife,takingherfrombeneaththenoseofMatthewHague,butthatwassoonfollowedbyakindof...well,Icanonlydescribeitasstagnation.

EmmettScotthaddeliveredhiscuttingblowatthewedding.Weshouldhavebeengrateful,Isuppose,thatheandCaroline’smotherhaddeignedtoattend.AlthoughformyownpartIwasnotatallgratefulandIwouldhavepreferreditifthepairofthemhadstayedaway.Ihatedtoseemyfather,capinhand,bowingandscrapingtoEmmettScott,hardlyanoblemanafterall,justamerchant,separatedfromus,notbyanyaristocraticleaningsbutbymoneyalone.

ForCaroline,though,Iwasgladtheycame.Itwasn’tasiftheyapprovedofthemarriage,farfromit;butattheveryleast,theyweren’tpreparedtolosetheir

daughteroverit.Ioverheardhermother—“Wejustwantyoutobehappy,Caroline”—and

knewthatshewasspeakingformealone.IntheeyesofEmmettScottIsawnosuchdesire.Isawthelookofamanwhohadbeendeniedhischancetoclambersomuchhigherupthesocialladder,amanwhosedreamsofgreatinfluencehadbeendashed.Hecametotheweddingundersufferance,orperhapsforthepleasureofdeliveringhispronouncementinthechurchyardafterthevowsweremade.

EmmettScotthadblackhairbrushedforward,dark,sunkencheeksandamouthpinchedpermanentlyintoashapelikeacat’sanus.Hisface,infact,worethepermanentexpressionofamanbitingdeepintothefleshofalemon.

Exceptforthisoneoccasion,whenhislipspressedintoathinsmileandhesaid,“Therewillbenodowry.”

Hiswife,Caroline’smother,closedhereyestightlyasthoughitwasamomentshe’ddreaded,hadhopedmightnothappen.Wordshadbeenexchanged,Icouldguess,andthelastofthemhadbelongedtoEmmettScott.

Sowemovedintoanouthouseonmyfather’sfarm.Wehadappointeditasbestwecould,butitwasstill,attheendoftheday,anouthouse:packedmudandsticksforthewalls,ourroofthatchbadlyinneedofrepair.

Ourunionhadbeguninthesummer,ofcourse,whenourhomewasacoolsanctuaryawayfromtheblazingsun,butinwinter,inthewetandwind,itwasnokindofsanctuaryatall.Carolinehadbeenusedtoabrick-builttownhousewiththelifeofBristolallaround,servantstoboot,herwashing,hercooking,everywhimattendedto.Hereshewasnotrich.Shewaspoorandherhusbandwaspoor.Withnoprospects.

Ibeganvisitingtheinnsoncemore,butIwasnotthesamemanasbefore,notasI’dbeeninthedayswhenIwasasingleman,thecheerful,boisterousdrunk,thejester.Sittingthere,Ihadtheweightoftheworldonmyshoulders,andIsatwithmybacktotheroom,hunched,broodingovermyale,feelingasthoughtheywerealltalkingaboutme,liketheywereallsaying,“There’sEdwardKenway,whocan’tprovideforhiswife.”

IhadsuggestedittoCaroline,ofcourse.Mebecomingaprivateer.Whileshehadn’tsaidno—shewasstillmywife,afterall—shehadn’tsaidyes,andinhereyeswasthedoubtandworry.

“Idon’twanttoleaveyoualone,butIcanleaveherepoorandcomebackrich,”Itoldher.

Now,ifIwastogo,IwentwithoutherblessingandIleftheraloneina

farmyardshack.HerfatherwouldsayIhaddesertedher,andhermotherwoulddespisemeformakingCarolineunhappy.

Icouldn’twin.“Isitdangerous?”sheaskedonenight,whenIspokeaboutprivateering.“Itwouldn’tbesohighlypaidifitwasn’t,”Itoldher,and,ofcourse,she

reluctantlyagreedthatIcouldgo.Shewasmywife,afterall,whatchoicedidshehave?ButIdidn’twanttoleaveherbehindwithabrokenheart.

•••

Onemorning,Iawokefromadrunkenstupor,blinkinginthemorninglight,onlytofindCarolinealreadydressedforthedayahead.

“Idon’twantyoutogo,”shesaid,thenturnedandlefttheroom.

•••

OnenightIsatintheLividBrews.I’dliketosayIwasnotmyusualself,asIsatwithmybacktotherestofthetavernhunchedovermytankard,takinggreatbiggulpsinbetweendarkthoughtsandwatchingthelevelfall.Always,watchingthelevelofmyalefall.

ButthesadfactofthematterwasthatIwasmyusualself.Thatyoungerman,thatroguealwaysreadywithaquipandasmile,haddisappeared.Inhisplace,stillayoungmanbutonewhohadthecaresoftheworldonhisshoulders.

OnthefarmCarolinehelpedMother,whoatfirsthadbeenhorrifiedbytheidea,sayingCarolinewastoomuchofaladytoworkonthefarm.Carolinehadjustlaughedandinsisted.AtfirstwhenIwatchedherstrideacrossthesameyardwhereIhadfirstseenhersittingastrideherhorse,currentlywearingacrispwhitebonnet,workboots,asmockandapron,I’dhadaproudfeeling.Butseeingherinwork-clotheshadcometobeareminderofmyownfailingsasaman.

WhatmadeitworsesomehowwasthatCarolinedidn’tseemtomind;itwasasthoughshewastheonlypersonintheareawhodidnotseehercurrentpositionasadescentdownthesocialladder.Everybodyelsedid,andnonefeltitmorekeenlythanI.

“CanIgetyouanotherale?”Irecognizedthevoicethatcamefrombehindmeandturnedtoseehimthere:EmmettScott,Caroline’sfather.I’dlastseenhimatthewedding,whenherefusedhisdaughterherdowry.Butherehewas,offeringhishatedson-in-lawadrink.That’sthethingaboutthedrink,though.When

you’reintothedrinklikeIwas,whenyouwatchthelevelofyouralefallandwonderwhereyournextoneiscomingfrom,you’lltakeafreshmugfromanyone.EvenEmmettScott.Yourswornenemy.Amanwhohatedyoualmostasmuchasyouhatedhim.

SoIacceptedhisofferofanale,andheboughthisown,pulledupastool,whichscrapedontheflag-stonesashesatdown.

YourememberEmmettScott’sexpression?Thatofamansuckingalemon.Atthatmoment,talkingtome,thehatedEdwardKenway,you’dhavetosayhelookedevenmorepained.Ifeltcompletelyathomeinthetavern,asitwasanenvironmentinwhichIcouldlosemyself,butitdidn’tsuithimatall.Everynowandthenhewouldglanceoveroneshoulder,thenthenext,likehewasfrightenedofbeingattackedsuddenlyfrombehind.

“Idon’tthinkwe’veeverhadachancetotalk,”hesaid.Imadeashort,scoffinglaughinreply.

“Yourappearanceattheweddingputpaidtothat,diditnot?”Ofcoursetheboozehadloosenedmytongue,mademebrave.Thatandthe

factthatinthewartowinhisdaughterIhadwon.Herheart,afterall,belongedtomeandtherewasnogreaterevidenceofherdevotiontomethanthefactthatshehadgivenupsomuchtobewithme.Evenhemusthaveseenthat.

“We’reboththemenoftheworld,Edward,”hesaidsimply,andyoucouldseehewastryingtomakehimselfseemincharge.ButIsawthroughhim.Isawwhathereallywas:afrightened,nastyman,browbeateninbusiness,whokickeddownwards,whoprobablybeathisservantsandhiswife,whoassumedthelikesofmeoughttobebowingandscrapingtohim,likemymotherandfatherhaddone(andIhadatwingeofragetorememberit)atthewedding.

“Howaboutwedoadeallikemenofbusiness?”Itookalongslugofmyaleandheldhiseyes.“Whatdidyouhaveinmind,

father-in-lawofmine?”Hisfacehardened.“Youwalkoutonher.Youthrowherout.Whateveryou

want.Yousetherfree.Sendherbacktome.”“AndifIdo?”“I’llmakeyouarichman.”Idrainedtherestofmyale.HenoddedtowardsitwithquestioningeyesandI

saidyes,waitedwhilehefetchedanotherone,thendrankitdown,almostinonego.Theroomwasbeginningtospin.

“Well,youknowwhatyoucandowithyouroffer,don’tyou?”“Edward,”hesaid,leaningforward,“youandIbothknowyoucan’tprovide

formydaughter.YouandIbothknowyousithereindespairbecauseyoucan’tprovideformydaughter.Youloveher,Iknowthat,becauseIwasoncelikeyou,amanofnoqualities.”

Ilookedathimwithmyteethclenched.“Noqualities?”“Oh,it’strue,”hespat,sittingback.“You’reasheep-farmer,boy.”“Whathappenedto‘Edward’?Ithoughtyouweretalkingtomelikean

equal.”“Anequal?Therewillneverbeadaywhenyouwillbeequaltomeandyou

knowit.”“You’rewrong.Ihaveplans.”“I’veheardaboutyourplans.Privateering.Becomingamanofsubstanceon

thehighseas.Youdon’thaveitinyou,EdwardKenway.”“Ido.”“Youdon’thavethemoralfibre.Iamofferingyouawayoutoftheholeyou

havedugforyourself,boy;Isuggestyouthinkaboutitveryhard.”Isanktherestofmyale.“HowaboutIthinkaboutitoveranotherdrink?”“Asyouwish.”AfreshtankardmaterializedonthetableinfrontofmeandIsettomakingit

athingofhistory,mymindreelingatthesametime.Hewasright.Thiswasthemostdevastatingthingaboutthewholeconversation.EmmettScottwasright.IlovedCarolineyetcouldnotprovideforher,andifIwastrulyadutifulhusband,thenIwouldaccepthisoffer.

“Shedoesn’twantmetogoaway,”Isaid.“Andyouwantto?”“Iwantforhertosupportmyplans.”“Sheneverwill.”“Icanbuthope.”“Ifshelovesyouasshesays,sheneverwill.”EveninmydrunkenstateIcouldnotfaulthislogic.Iknewhewasright.He

knewhewasright.“Youhavemadeenemies,EdwardKenway.Manyenemies.Someofthem

powerful.Whydoyouthinkthoseenemieshaven’ttakentheirrevengeonyou?”“They’refrightened?”Therewasadrunkenarroganceinmyvoice.Hescoffed.“Ofcoursethey’renotfrightened.Theyleaveyoualonebecause

ofCaroline.”“ThenifIwastoacceptyouroffer,therewouldbenothingtostopmy

enemiesfromattackingme?”

“Nothingbutmyprotection.”Iwasn’tsureaboutthat.Isankanotherale.Hesankdeeperintodespondency.Hewasstillthereatthe

endofthenight,hisverypresenceremindingmehowfarmychoiceshadshrunk.

WhenItriedtostandtoleave,mylegsalmostgavewayandIhadtograbthesideofthetablejusttoremainonmyfeet.Caroline’sfather,adisgustedlookonhisface,cametohelpmeandbeforeIknewithewastakingmehome,thoughnotbecausehewantedtoseemesafebutbecausehewantedtoseetoitthatCarolinesawmeinmydrunkenstate,andindeedshedid,asIrolledin,laughing.EmmettScottpuffedup,andtoldher,“Thistosspotisaruinedman,Caroline.Unfitforlifeonland,muchlessatsea.IfhegoestotheWestIndies,it’syouwhowillsuffer.”

“Father...Father.”Shewassobbing,soupset,andthenasIlayonthebedIsawhisbootsmove

offandhewasgone.“Thatoldmuckworm,”Imanaged.“He’swrongaboutme.”“Ihopeitso,”shereplied.Iletmydrunkenimaginationcarrymeaway.“Youbelieveme,don’tyou?

Canyounotseeme,standingoutthereonthedeckofashipthatisslidingintoport?ThereIam,amanofquality...Withathousanddoubloonsspillingfrommypocketslikedropsofrain.Icanseeit.”

WhenIlookedathershewasshakingherhead.Shecouldn’tseeit.WhenIsoberedupthenextday,neithercouldI.ItwasonlyamatteroftimeIsuppose.Mylackofprospectsbecamelike

anotherpersoninthemarriage.Ireviewedmyoptions:EmmettScottofferingmemoneyinreturnforhavinghisdaughterback.Mydreamsofsailingaway.

BothoftheminvolvedbreakingCaroline’sheart.

ELEVEN

ThenextdayIwentbacktoseeEmmettScott,returningtoHawkinsLane,whereIknockedonthedoortorequestanaudience.WhoshouldanswerbutRose.

“MasterKenway,”shesaid,surprised,andgoingslightlyred.Therewasamomentofawkwardness,thenIwasbeingaskedtowait,andshortlyafterthatwasbeingledtoEmmettScott’sstudy,aroomdominatedbyadeskinitscentre,woodpanellinggivingitadark,seriousatmosphere.Hestoodinfrontofhisdesk,andinthegloom,withhisdarkhair,hiscadaverouslookanddark,hollowed-outcheeks,helookedlikeacrow.

“Youhavethoughtmyofferover,then?”hesaid.“Ihave,”Ireplied,“andfeltitbesttotellyoumydecisionassoonas

possible.”Hefoldedhisarms,andhisfacecrackedintoatriumphantsmirk.“Youcome

tomakeyourdemands,then?Howmuchismydaughterworth?”“Howmuchwereyouwillingtopay?”“Were?”ItwasmyturntosmilethoughIwascarefulnottooverdoit.Hewas

dangerous,EmmettScott.Iwasplayingadangerousgamewithadangerousman.

“That’sright.IhavedecidedtogototheWestIndies.”IknewwhereIcouldreachDylanWallace.IhadgivenCarolinethenews.“Isee.”Heseemedtothink,tappinghisfingertipstogether.“Butyoudon’tintendtostayawaypermanently.”“No.”“Thesewerenotthetermsofmyoffer.”“Notquitethetermsofyouroffer,no,”Isaid.“Ineffect,acounteroffer.A

measureIhopewillfindyourfavour.IamaKenway,Mr.Scott,Ihavemypride.

ThatIhopeyouwillunderstand.UnderstandtoothatIloveyourdaughter,howevermuchthatfactmayailyou,andwishnothingbutthebestforher.IaimtoreturnfrommytravelsarichmanandwithmyfortunegiveCarolinethelifeshedeserves.Alife,I’msure,youwouldwishforher.”

Hewasnodding,thoughthepurseofhislipsbetrayedhisuttercontemptforthenotion.

“And?”“IgiveyoumywordIwillnotreturntotheseshoresuntilIamarichman.”“Isee.”“AndIgiveyoumywordIwillnottellCarolinethatyouattemptedtobuy

herback.”Hedarkened.“Isee.”“Iaskonlytobegiventheopportunitytomakemyfortune—toprovidefor

Carolineinthemannertowhichshehasbecomeaccustomed.”“Youwillstillbeherhusband—itisnotwhatIwanted.”“Youthinkmeagood-for-nothing,notfittobeherhusband.Ihopetoprove

youwrong.WhileIamawayyouwillnodoubtseemoreofCaroline.Perhapsifyourhatredofmerunssodeeplyyoumightusetheopportunitytopoisonheragainstme.Thepointis,youwouldhaveampleopportunity.Moreover,Imightdiewhileatsea,inwhichcasesheisreturnedtoyouforever,ayoungwidow,stillataneligibleage.Thatismydeal.InreturnIaskonlythatyouallowmetotryandmakesomethingofmyself,unhindered.”

Henodded,consideringtheidea,perhapssavouringthethoughtofmydyingwhileatsea.

TWELVE

DylanWallaceassignedmetothecrewoftheEmperor,dockedinBristolharbourandleavingintwodays.Ireturnedhomeandtoldmymother,fatherandCaroline.

Thereweretears,ofcourse,andrecriminationsandpleastostay,butIwasfirminmyresolve.AfterIhadbrokenmynews,Caroline,distraught,left.Sheneededtimetothink,shesaid,andwestoodintheyardandwatchedhergallopaway—toherfamily,where,atleastshewouldgivethenewstoEmmettScott,whowouldknowIwasfulfillingmypartofthedeal.Icouldonlyhope—or,shouldIsay,Ihopedatthetime—thathewouldfulfilhispartofthedealalso.

Sittingheretalkingtoyounow,alltheseyearslater,ithastobesaidthatIdon’tknowwhetherhedid.ButIwill.Shortly,Iwill,andtherewillbeadayofreckoning...

Butnotthen.Then,Iwasyoung,stupid,arrogantandboastful.IwassoboastfulthatonceCarolinewasaway,Itooktothetavernsagain,andperhapsfoundthatsomeofmyoldlivelinesshadreturned,asItookgreatdelightintellingallwhowouldlistenthatIwastosailaway;thatMr.andMrs.EdwardKenwaywouldsoonbearichcouplethankstomyendeavoursonthehighseas.Iboastedaboutit,infact.Itookgreatdelightintheirsneeringlooks,theirrejoinders,eitherthatIwastoobigformyboots,orthatIdidnothaveenoughcharacterforthetask;thatIwouldsoonreturnwithmytailbetweenmylegs;thatIwaslettingdownmyfather.

NotoncedidIletmygrinslip.Myknowinggrinthatsaid,“You’llsee.”Butevenwiththeboozeinsidemeandmydepartureadayorsoaway—or

maybeevenbecauseofthosethings—Istilltooktheirwordstoheart.Iaskedmyself,DoIreallyhaveenoughofamaninsidemetosurvivethelifeofaprivateer?AmIgoingtoreturnwithmytailbetweenmylegs?Andyes,Imightdie.

Also,theywereright:Iwaslettingmyfatherdown.I’dseenthe

disappointmentinhiseyesthemomentIdeliveredthenewsandithadremainedtheresince.Itwasasadness,perhapsthathisdreamofrunningthefarmtogether—fadingasitmusthavebeen—hadfinallybeendashedforgood.Iwasnotjustleavingtoembraceanewlifebutwholeheartedlyrejectingmyoldone.Thelifehehadbuiltforhimself,mymotherandme.Iwasrejectingit.I’ddecidedIwastoogoodforit.

PerhapsInevergaveenoughthoughttotheeffectthatallofthismighthaveonCaroline’srelationshipwithmymotherandfather,butlookingbacknow,itisludicroustometohaveexpectedhersimplytoremainatthefarm.

Onenight,Ireturnedhome,tofindherdressedup.“Whereareyougoing?”Islurred,havingspentmostoftheeveningina

tavern.Shewasunabletomeetmygaze.Byherfeetwasabedsheettiedintoa

bulgingparcel,somehowatoddswithherattire,which,asIfocusedonher,Irealizedwasmoresmartthanusual.

“I...”Finallyhereyesmetmine.“Myparentshaveaskedmetogoandlivewiththem.AndI’dliketo.”

“Whatdoyoumean,‘livewiththem’?Youlivehere.Withme.”ShetoldmethatIshouldn’thavegivenupworkwithFather.Itwasadecent

wageandIshouldhavebeenhappywithwhatIhad.Ishouldhavebeenhappywithher.ThroughafogofaleItriedtotellherthatIwashappywithher.That

everythingIwasdoing,Iwasdoingforher.Shehadbeentalkingtoherparentswhileshewasaway,ofcourse,andwhileIhadexpectedherfathertobeginpoisoningheragainstme,thatmuckworm,Ihadn’texpectedhimtostartquitesosoon.

“Decentwage?”Iraged.“Thatjobwasneartorobbery.Youwanttobemarriedtoapeasantthewholeofyourlife?”

Ihadspokentooloudly.AlookpassedbetweenusandIcringedtothinkofmyfatherhearing.Andthenshewasleaving,andIwascallingafterher,stilltryingtopersuadehertostay.

Tonoavail,andthenextmorning,whenI’dsoberedupandrecalledtheeventsofthenightbefore,MotherandFatherwerebrooding,staringatmewithrecriminatorylooks.Theyliked—I’dgoasfarassayingloved—Caroline.Notonlywassheahelparoundthefarm,butMotherhadlostadaughtermanyyearsago,sotoherCarolinewasthedaughtersheneverhad.

Apartfrombeingwell-likedandhelponthefarm,she’dalsobeenhelpingmy

motherandmyselfwithournumbersandletters.Nowshewasgone—gonebecauseIhadnotbeencontentwithmylot.Gone

becauseIwantedadventure.Becausethedrinkwasnolongerdoinganythingtostaveoffboredom.

Whycouldn’tIbehappywithher?she’dasked.Iwashappywithher.Whycouldn’tIbehappywithmylife?she’dasked.No,Iwasn’thappywithmylife.

Iwenttoseeher,totryandpersuadehertochangehermind.AsfarasIwasconcernedshewasstillmywife,Iwasstillherhusband,andwhatIwasdoingwasforthegoodofthemarriage,forthegoodofbothofus,notjustme.

(IthinkIkiddedmyselfthatthatwastrue.Maybetosomesmalldegreeitwastrue.ButIknew,andprobablysheknewtoo,thatwhileIwantedtoprovideforher,IalsowantedtoseetheworldoutsideofBristol.)

Itdidnogood.Shetoldmeshewasworriedaboutmybeinghurt.IrepliedthatIwouldbecareful;thatIwouldreturnwithcoinorsendforher.ItoldherIneededherfaithbutmyappealsfellondeafears.

ItwasthedayIwasduetoleave,andIwenthomeandpackedmybags,slungthemovermyhorseandleft,withthoseverysamerecriminatorylooksboringintomyback,stabbingatmelikearrows.AseveningfellIrodetothedockwithaheavyheart,andtherefoundtheEmperor.Butinsteadoftheexpectedindustry,Ifounditneardeserted.TheonlypeoplepresentwereagroupofsixmenwhoItooktobedeck-hands,whosatgamblingwithleatherflasksofrumcloseathand,casksforchairs,acrateforadicetable.

IlookedfromthemtotheEmperor.Arefittedmerchantship,shewasridinghighinthewater.Thedeckswereempty,noneofthelampswerelit,andtherailingsshoneinthemoonlight.Asleepinggiant,shewas,anddespitefeelingperplexedatthelackofactivityIwasstillinaweofhersizeandstature.OnthosedecksIwouldserve.OnhammocksinquartersbelowdecksIwouldsleep.ThemastsIwouldclimb.Iwaslookingatmynewhome.

Oneofthemeneyedmecarefully.“Now,whatcanIdoforyou?”hesaid.Iswallowed,suddenlyfeelingveryyoungandinexperiencedandsuddenly,

tragicallywonderingifeverythingtheysaidaboutme—Caroline’sfather,thedrinkersinthetaverns,evenCarolineherself—mightbetrue.That,actually,Imightnotbecutoutforlifeatsea.

“I’mheretojoinup,”Isaid,“sentherebyDylanWallace.”Asnickerranthroughthegroupoffourandeachofthemlookedatmewith

anevengreaterinterest.“DylanWallace,therecruitmentman,eh?”saidthefirst.

“He’ssentoneortwotousbefore.Whatisityoucando,boy?”“Mr.WallacethoughtIwouldbematerialenoughtoserve,”Isaid,hopingI

soundedmoreconfidentandablethanIfelt.“How’syoureyesight?”saidone.“Myeyesightisfine.”“Doyouhaveaheadforheights?”Ifinallyknewwhattheymeant,astheypointeduptothehighestpointofthe

Emperor’srigging,thecrow’snest,hometothelookout.“Mr.Wallacehadmemoreinmindasdeck-hand,Ithink.”Officermaterialwaswhathe’dactuallysaid,butIwasn’tabouttotellthislot.

Iwasyoungandnervous.Notstupid.“Well,canyousew,lad?”camethereply.Theyweremockingme,surely.“Whatdoessewinghavetodowith

privateering,then?”Iasked,feelingalittleimpudentdespitethecircumstances.“Thedeck-handneedstobeabletosew,boy,”saidoneoftheothermen.Like

alltheothershehadatarredpigtailandtattoosthatcreptfromthesleevesandneckofhisshirt.“Needstobegoodwithknotstoo.Areyougoodwithknots,boy?”

“ThesearethingsIcanlearn,”Ireplied.Istaredattheshipwithitsfurledsails,rigginghangingintidyloopsfromthe

mastsandthehullstuddedwithbrassbarrelspeekingfromitsgun-deck.Isawmyselflikethemenwhosatonthecasksbeforeme,theirfacesleatheryandtannedfromtheirtimeatsea,eyesthatgleamedwithmenaceandadventure.Custodiansoftheship.

“Youhavetogetusedtoalotelseaswellbesides,”saidoneman,“scrapingbarnaclesoffthehull,caulkingtheboatwithtar.”

“Yougotyoursealegs,son?”askedanother.Theywerelaughingatmebythen.“Canyoukeepyourstomachwhenshe’slashedwithwavesandhurricanewinds?”

“IreckonIcan,”Ireplied,addingwithasurgeofimpetuousanger,“Eitherway,that’snotwhyMr.WallacethoughtImightmakeagoodcrewmate.”

Alookpassedbetweenthem.Theatmospherechangedalittle.“Ohyes?”saidoneofthem,swinginghislegsround.Heworedirtycanvas

trousers.“Whyisitthattherecruitingofficerthoughtyoumightmakeagoodcrewmate,then?”

“Havingseenmeinaction,hethoughtImightbeusefulinabattle.”Hestood.“Afighter,eh?”

“That’sright.”“Well,youhaveampleopportunitytoproveyourabilitiesinthatarea,boy,

startingtomorrow.PerhapsI’llputmyselfdownforabout,shallI?”“Whatdoyoumean,‘tomorrow’?”Iasked.Hehadsatdown,returninghisattentiontothegame.“Tomorrow,whenwe

sail.”“Iwastoldwesailedtonight.”“Sailtomorrow,lad.Captainisn’tevenhereyet.Wesailfirstthing.”Ileftthem,knowingImightwellhavemademyfirstenemiesonship;still,I

hadsometime—timetoputthingsright.Iretrievedmyhorseandheadedforhome.

THIRTEEN

IgallopedtowardsHatherton,towardshome.WhywasIgoingback?PerhapstotellthemIwassorry.Perhapstoexplainwhatwasgoingthroughmymind.Afterall,Iwastheirson.MaybeFatherwouldrecognizeinmesomevestigeofhimselfandmaybeifhedid,hewouldforgiveme.

AsItravelledbackalongthehighway,whatIrealizedmorethananythingwasthatIwantedhimtoforgiveme.Bothofthem.

IsitanywonderthatIwasdistractedandmyguardwasdown?Iwasneartohome,wherethetreesformedanarrowavenue,whenIsenseda

movementinthehedgerow.Idrewtoahaltandlistened.Whenyouliveinthecountrysideyousensethechangesandsomethingwasdifferent.FromabovecameasharpwhistlethatcouldonlyhavebeenawarningwhistleandatthesametimeIsawmoremovementaheadofme,exceptthiswasintheyardofourfarmhouse.

MyhearthammeredasIspurredmyhorseandgallopedtowardstheyard.AtthesametimeIsawtheunmistakableflareofatorch.Notalamp,butatorch.Thekindoftorchyoumightuseifyouwereintendingtosetsomethingablaze.AtthesametimeIsawrunningfiguresandintheglareoftorchlightsawthattheyworehoods.

“Hey,”Ishouted,asmuchtotryandwakeMotherandFatherastofrightenoffourattackers.

“Hey,”Iyelledagain.Atorcharcedthroughtheair,twirlingendoverend,leavinganorangetrailin

thenightskybeforelandinginashowerofsparksonthethatchofourhome.Itwasdry—tinderdry.Wetriedtokeepitdousedinthesummerbecausetheriskoffirewassogreat,buttherewasalwayssomethingmoreimportanttodoandataguessithadn’tbeendoneforaweekbecauseitwentupwithawhoompf.

Isawmorefigures,three,perhapsfour.JustasIcameintotheyardandpulledup,ashapeflewatmefromtheside,handsgrabbedmytunicandIwasdragged

fromthebackofmyhorse.ThebreathwasdrivenfrommeasIthumpedhardtotheground.Nearbywere

rocksforastonewall.Weapons.Thenabovemeloomedafigurethatblockedoutthemoon,hooded,liketheothers.BeforeIcouldreacthestoopedandIcaughtabriefimpressionofthehoodfabricpulsingathismouthashebreathedhard;andthenhisfistsmashedintomyface.Itwistedandhissecondblowlandedonmyneck.Besidehimappearedanotherfigure,andIsawaglintofsteel,knewIwaspowerlesstodoanythingandpreparedtodie.Butthefirstmanstoppedthenewarrivalwithasimplebarked,“No,”andIwassavedfromthebladeatleast,butnotfromthebeating,andabootinmymidriffdoubledmeup.

Thatboot—Irecognizedthatboot.Againitcame,again,untilatlastitstoppedandmyattackerspatandranoff.

MyhandswenttomywoundedbellyandIrolledontomyfrontandcoughed,theblacknessthreateningtoengulfme.MaybeI’dletit.Theideaofsinkingintooblivionseemedtempting.Letunconsciousnesstakethepain.Delivermeintothefuture.

Thesoundofrunningfeetasmyattackersescaped.Someindistinctshouting.Thecriesofthedisturbedewes.

Butno.Iwasstillalive,wasn’tI?AbouttokisssteelI’dbeengivenasecondchanceandthatwastoogoodachancetopassup.IhadmyparentstosaveandeventhenIknewthatIwasgoingtomakethesepeoplepay.Theownerofthosebootswouldregretnotkillingmewhenhehadthechance.OfthatIwassure.

Ipulledmyselfup.Smokedriftedacrosstheyardlikeabankofincomingfog.Oneofthebarnswasalreadyalight.Thehousetoo.Ineededtowakethem,neededtowakemymotherandfather.

Thedirtaroundmewasbathedintheorangeglowofthefire.AsIstoodIwasawareofhorses’hoovesandswungabouttoseeseveralridersretreating—ridingawayfromthefarmhouse,theirjobdone,theplacewellalightbythen.Isnatcheduparockandconsideredhurlingitatoneoftheriders,butthereweremoreimportantmatterstoworryabout,andwithagruntthatwasparteffortandpartpain,Ilaunchedtherockatthetopwindowofthefarmhouse.

MyaimwastrueandIprayeditwouldbeenoughtorousemyparents.Thesmokewasthickintheyard,theroaroftheflameslikeanescapedhell.Eweswerescreaminginthebarnsastheyburnedalive.

Atthedoortheyappeared:FatherbattlinghiswayoutoftheflameswithMotherinhisarms.Hisfacewasset,hiseyesblank.Allhecouldthinkaboutwasmakingsureshewassafe.Afterhe’dtakenMotheroutofthereachofthe

flamesandlaidhercarefullydownintheyardnearwhereIstood,hestraightenedandlikemegapedhelplesslyattheburningbuilding.Wehurriedovertothebarn,wherethescreamsoftheeweshaddieddown,ourlivestock,Father’slivelihood,gone.Then,hisfacehotandglowinginthelightoftheflames,myfatherdidsomethingI’dneverseen.Hebegantocry.

“Father...”Ireachedforhim,andhepulledhisshoulderawaywithanangryshrug,andwhenheturnedtome,hisfaceblackenedwithsmokeandstreakedbytearsheshookwithrestrainedviolence,asthoughitwastakingeveryounceofhisself-controltostophimselffromlashingout.Fromlashingoutatme.

“Poison.That’swhatyouare,”hesaidthroughclenchedteeth,“poison.Theruinofourlives.”

“Father...”“Getoutofhere,”hespat.“Getoutofhere.Ineverwanttoseeyouagain.”Motherstirredasthoughshewasabouttoprotest,andratherthanfacemore

upset—ratherthanbethecauseofmoreupset—Imountedmyhorseandleft.

FOURTEEN

Iflewthroughthenightwithheartbreakandfurymycompanions,ridingthehighwayintotownandstoppingattheAuldShillelagh,whereallthishadbegun.Istaggeredinside,onearmstillclutchingmyhurtchest,facethrobbingfromthebeating.

Conversationinthetaverndieddown.Ihadtheirattention.“I’mlookingforTomCobleighandhisweaselson,”Imanaged,breathing

hard,glaringatthemfrombeneathmybrow.“Havetheybeeninhere?”Backswereturnedtome.Shouldershunched.“We’llnothaveanytroubleinhere,”saidJack,thelandlord,frombehindthe

bar.“We’vehadenoughtroublefromyoutolastusalifetime,thankyouverymuch,EdwardKenway.”Hepronounced“thankyouverymuch”asthoughitwerealloneword.Thankyouverymuch.

“Youknowthefullmeaningoftroubleifyou’reshelteringtheCobleighs,”Iwarned,andIstrodetothebar,wherehereachedforsomethingIknewtobethere,aswordthathungonanailoutofsight.Igottherefirst,stretchedwithamovementthatsentthepaininmystomachoff,butgrabbeditandsnatcheditfromitsscabbardinoneswiftmovement.

ItallhappenedtooquicklyforJacktoreact.Onesecondhe’dbeenconsideringreachingforthesword,thenextinstantthatverysameswordwasbeingheldtohisthroat,thankyouverymuch.

Thelightintheinnwaslow.Afireflickeredinthegrate,darkshadowsprancedonthewallsanddrinkersregardedmewithnarrowed,watchfuleyes.

“Nowtellme,”Isaid,anglingtheswordatJack’sthroat,makinghimwince,“havetheCobleighsbeeninheretonight?”

“Weren’tyousupposedtobeleavingontheEmperortonight?”Itwasn’tJack;itwassomebodyelsewhospoke.SomeoneIcouldn’tseein

thegloom.Ididn’trecognizethevoice.“Aye,wellmyplanschangedandit’sluckytheydid;otherwise,mymother

andfatherwouldhaveburnedintheirbeds.”Myvoicerose.“Isthatwhatyouwanted,allofyou?Becausethat’swhatwouldhavehappened.Didyouknowaboutthis?”

Youcouldhaveheardapindropinthattavern.Fromthedarknesstheyregardedme:theeyesofmenI’ddrunkandfoughtwith,womenI’dtakentobed.Theykepttheirsecrets.Theywouldcontinuetokeepthem.

Fromoutsidecametherattleandclankofacartarriving.Everybodyelseheardittoo.Thetensioninthetavernseemedtochange.ItcouldbetheCobleighs.Heretoestablishtheiralibi,perhaps.Stillwiththeswordtohisthroat,IdraggedJackfrombehindthebarandtothedooroftheinn.

“Nobodysayaword,”Iwarned,“nobodysayabloodywordandJack’sthroatstaysclosed.Theonlypersonwhoneedsbehurtheretonightishewhotookatorchtomyfather’sfarm.”

Voicesfromoutsidethen.IheardTomCobleigh.Ipositionedmyselfbehindthedoorjustasitopened,withJackheldasshield,thepointofthesworddiggingintohisneck.Thesilencewasdeathlyandinstantlynoticeabletothreemenwhowereafractiontooslowtorealizethatsomethingwaswrong.

WhatIheardastheycameinwasCobleigh’sthroatychuckledyingonhislips,andwhatIsawwasapairofbootsIrecognized,bootsthatbelongedtoJulian.SoIsteppedoutfrombehindthedoorandranhimthroughwiththesword.Youshouldhavekilledmewhenyouhadthechance.I’llhaveitonmy

gravestone.Arrestedintheframeofthedoor,Juliansimplystoodandgawped,hiseyes

wideashestared,firstdownattheswordembeddedinhischest,thenintomyeyes.Hisfinalsightwasofhiskiller.Hisfinalinsulttocoughgobbetsofbloodintomyfaceashedied.NotthelastmanIeverkilled.Notbyanymeans.Butthefirst.

“Tom!It’sKenway!”cameashoutfromwithinthetavern,butitwashardlynecessary,evenforsomeoneasstupidasTomCobleigh.

Julian’seyeswentglassyandthelightwentoutofthemasheslidoffmyswordandslumpedintothedoorwaylikeabloodieddrunk.BehindhimstoodTomCobleighandhissonSeth,mouthsagapelikemenseeingaghost.Allthoughtsofarefreshingtankardandasatisfyingboastaboutthenight’sentertainmentwereforgottenastheyturnedtailandran.

Julian’sbodywasinthewayandtheygainedprecioussecondsasIclamberedoverhim,emergingintothedarkonthehighway.Sethhadtrippedandwasjust

pickinghimselfupfromthedirtwhileTom,notstoppingtohelphisson,hadharedacrossthehighwayheadingforthefarmhouseopposite.InamomentIwasuponSeth,theblood-streakedswordstillinmyhand,anditcrossedmymindtomakehimthesecondmanIeverkilled.Mybloodwasupandafterall,theysaythefirstishardest.Wouldn’tIbedoingtheworldafavour,riddingitofSethCobleigh?

Butno.Therewasmercy.Andaswellasmercytherewasdoubt.Thechance—slim,butstillachance—thatSethhadn’tbeenthere.

InsteadasIpassedIbroughtthehiltofthesworddownhardonthebackofhisheadandwasrewardedwithanoutraged,painedscreamandthesoundofhimsprawling,hopefullyunconscious,backtothedirtasIdashedpasthim,armsandlegspumpingasIcrossedtheroadinpursuitofTom.

Iknowwhatyou’rethinking.IhadnoproofTomhadbeenthereeither.ButIjustknew.Ijustknew.

Acrosstheroadway,heriskedaquickglanceoverhisshoulderbeforeplacingbothhandstothetopofthestonewallandheavinghimselfover.Seeingme,heletoutasmall,frightenedwhimperandIhadtimetothinkthatthoughhewassprightlyforamanofhisyears—hisspeedaidedbyhisfear,nodoubt—Iwascatchingupwithhim,andtossedtheswordfromonehandtotheotherinordertovaultthewall,landontwofeetontheothersideandsprintoffinpursuit.

Iwascloseenoughtosmellhisstink,buthe’dreachedanouthouse,thendisappearedfromview.Iheardthescrapeofbootonstonefromnearby,asthoughathirdpersonwasintheyard,anddimlywonderedifitwasSeth.Orperhapsthefarmowner.PerhapsoneofthedrinkersfromtheAuldShillelagh.FocusedonfindingTomCobleigh,Igaveitnomind.

BythewalloftheouthouseIcrouched,listeninghard.WhereverCobleighwas,he’dstoppedmoving.Iglancedtomyleftandright,sawonlyfarmbuildings,blackblocksagainstthegreynight,heardonlytheoccasionalbleatingofagoatandthesoundofinsects.Ontheothersideofthehighwaylightsburnedatthewindow;butotherwise,thetavernwasquiet.

Then,inthealmostoppressivequiet,Iheardacrunchofgravelfromtheothersideofthebuilding.Hewasthere,waitingforme,expectingmetocomerunningrecklesslyfromaroundthatsideoftheouthouse.

Ithoughtaboutourpositions.He’dbeexpectingmefromthatcorner.So,veryslowlyandasquietlyasIcould,Icrepttowardstheoppositecorner.Iwincedasmybootsdisturbedthestonesandhopedthenoisewouldn’tcarry.Iedgedquietlyalongthesideofthebuildingandattheendstoppedandlistened.

IfIwasright,TomCobleighwouldbelyinginwaitattheotherside.IfIwaswrong,Icouldexpectaknifeinmybelly.

Iheldmybreath,thenriskedapeekaroundthesideoftheouthouse.I’djudgedright.TherewasCobleighatthefarcorner.Hisbackwastome

andinhisfistwasaraisedknife.Waitingformetoappear,hewasasittingduck.Icouldhavereachedhiminthreequickstridesandslippedmybladeintohisspinebeforehehadachancetofart.

Butno.Iwantedhimalive.Iwantedtoknowwhohiscompanionshadbeen.Whowasthetall,ring-wearingmanabletostopJulianfromkillingme?

SoinsteadIdisarmedhim.Literally.IdartedforwardandIcuthisarmoff.Or,thatwastheintention,atleast.Myinexperienceasaswordsmanwasall

tooobvious,orwasitsimplybecausetheswordwastooblunt?Eitherway,asIbroughtitdowntwo-handedonTomCobleigh’sforearm,itcuthissleeveandburrowedintotheflesh,butdidn’tseverthearm.Atleasthedroppedthesword.

Cobleighscreamedandpulledaway.Hegrabbedathiswoundedarm,whichjettedbloodacrossthewalloftheouthouseandontothedirt.AtthesametimeIsawamovementinthedarknessandrememberedthenoiseIhadheard,thatpossibleotherpresence.Toolate.Theshadowsdeliveredafigureintothemoonlight,andIsaweyesblankbehindthehood,work-clothesandbootsthatweresomehowtooclean.

PoorTomCobleigh.Heneversawitcomingandvirtuallybackedontothestranger’ssword,pinnedasthenewarrivalthrusthisbladeintohisbackandthroughthefrontofhisrib-cage,sothatitemergeddrippingblood.Helookeddownatit,agrunthisfinalworldlyutterancebeforethestrangerflickedhisswordtoonesideandhiscorpsespanfromthebladeandthumpedheavilytothedirt.

Thereisasaying,isn’tthere?Myenemy’senemyismyfriend.Somethinglikethat.Butthere’softenanexceptiontotheruleandinmycasehewasamaninahoodwithablood-stainedsword.Myneckwasstillstingingfromthemarkofhisringandmyfacestillthrobbedfromhisfists.Whyhe’dkilledTomCobleigh,Ihadnoideaanddidn’tcare;insteadwithawarrior’sroarIlungedforwardandtheshaftsofourswordsranglikebellsinthequietnight.

Heparriedeasily.One.Two.FromgoingforwardIwasalreadybeingdrivenback,forcedtodefendmessilyandsloppily.Inexperiencedswordsman?Iwasn’taswordsmanatall.ImightaswellhavebeenwieldingacluboracoshforalltheskillIhadwiththeblade.Withaswishofhissword-pointheopenedagashinmyarmandfirstIfeltwarmbloodwashdownmybicepsandsoakmysleeve,

beforefeelingthestrengthseemtoleakoutofmysword-arm.Weweren’tfighting.Notanymore.Hewasplayingwithme.Playingwithmebeforehekilledme

“Showmeyourface,”Igasped,buthemadenoreply.Theonlysignhe’devenheardwasaslightsmilingoftheeyesbehindthehood.ThearcofhisswordfooledmyeyesandIwastooslow—andnotjustalittletooslow,butfartooslow—tostophimfromopeningasecondgashinmyarm.

Againhestruck.Again.I’vesincerealizedthathecutmewithalltheprecisionofamedicalman,enoughtohurtbutnotpermanentlyinjureme.Certainlyenoughtodisarmme.Intheend,Ididn’tfeelthesworddropfrommyfingertips.Ijustheardithitthedirtandlookeddowntoseeitonthegroundwithbloodfrommywoundedarmdrippingontotheblade.

PerhapsIexpectedhimtoremovehishood.Buthedidnot.Insteadhelevelledthepointofhisswordjustbelowmychinandwithhisotherhandindicatedformetodroptomyknees.

“Youdon’tknowmewellenoughifyouthinkI’mgoingtomeetmyendonmyknees,stranger,”Itoldhim,feelingoddlycalminthefaceofdefeatanddeath.“Ifit’sallthesametoyou,I’llstaystanding.”

Hespokeintonesdeepandflat,possiblydisguised.“You’llnotmeetyourendtonight,EdwardKenway.More’sthepity.ButItellyouthis.UnlesstheEmperorsailswithyouonittomorrow,thisnightisonlythebeginningforanyonebearingtheKenwayname.Leaveatfirstlightandnomoreharmcomestoyourmotherorfather.Butifthatshipsailswithoutyou,theywillsuffer.Youallwill.DoImakemyselfclear?”

“DoIgettoknowtheidentityofmygraciousenemies?”Iasked.“Youdonot.Youknowonlythatthereareforcesinthisworldmorepowerful

thanyoucouldpossiblycomprehend,EdwardKenway.Tonightyouhaveseentheminaction.Youhavesufferedattheirhands.Letthisbeanendtoit.Neverreturntotheseshores.Now,EdwardKenway,youwillkneel.”

Hisswordcameupandthehiltsmashedintomytemple.WhenIwokeup,IwasontheEmperor.

FIFTEEN

AtleastIthoughtIwasontheEmperor.Ihopedsoanyway.Withmyheadthrobbing,Ipulledmyselfoutofmyhammock,putmybootstothedeckandwassentflyingforward.

Myfallwasbroken—bymyface.Ilaygroaningontheplanksforamomentorso,wonderingwhyIfeltsodrunkwhenIdidn’trememberdoinganyactualdrinking.Except,ofcourse,Iwasn’tdrunk.

ButifIwasn’tdrunk,whywasthefloormoving?IttippedthiswayandthatandIspentamomentorsowaitingforittosettleuntilIrealizedthattheconstantrockingwasexactlythat.Constant.Itwasn’tgoingtostop.

OnunsteadyfeetthatshuffledanddancedinthesawdustIstraightened,handsoutlikeamantryingtonegotiateabalancingbeam.MybodystillhurtfromthebeatingI’dtakenbutIwasonthemend,mywoundsadayorsoold.

Whathitmenextwastheairthickwithasmell.No,notasmell.Astench.Ohmydays,itstank.Amixofshit,piss,sweatandsea-water.AsmellIcame

tolearnwasuniquetothebelowdecksofaship.Justaseverybutcher’sshop,everytavernhasitsownsmell,sodoeseverybelowdecks.Thefrighteningthingwashowquicklyyougotusedtoit.

Thesmellwasofmen,andontheEmperortherewere150oftheblighters,whowhentheyweren’tmanningtheirpositions,hangingfromtheriggingorcrowdedintothegalleys,wouldsleepcuddleduptocarriagesonthegun-decks,orinhammocksmuchliketheoneI’dwokenupin.

Icouldhearoneofthecrew,sniggeringintheshadowsastheshiplurchedandIwasthrownagainstawoodensupportthenjustasviolentlyslammedintoacolumnopposite.Sealegs.Thatwaswhattheycalledit.Ihadtogetmysealegs.

“IsthistheEmperor?”Isaidintothemurk.Thecreakoftheship.LikethesmellandthesealegsitwassomethingI’dget

usedto.“Aye,you’reontheEmperor,”camethereply.

“I’mnewontheship,”Icalledintothedarkness,clingingonfordearlife.Therewasaraspingchuckle.“Youdon’tsay.”“Howfararewefromland?”“Aday.Youwerebroughtonasleeporunconscious.Toomuchbooze,I’d

say.”“Somethinglikethat,”Ireplied,stillhangingontothesupportfordearlife.

Mymindwenttotheeventsofthelastdayorsobutitwaslikeworryingatanopenwound.Toosoon,toopainful.I’dneedtotryandmakesenseofwhathadhappened.I’dneedtofacetheguilt,andI’dhaveletterstowrite.(LettersIwouldn’thavebeenabletowritewithoutCaroline’stuition,Iremindedmyself,withafreshfeelingofregret.)Butallthatwouldhavetowaituntillater.

Frombehindmecameagrating,wrenchingsound.Iswungroundandsquintedinthehalf-light,andwhenmyeyesadjustedIcouldseeacapstan.FromaboveIcouldhearfeetandtheraisedvoicesofmenatworkonthedeckabove.Thecapstangroanedandcreakedandturned.

“Heave,”cametheshoutfromabove.“Heave.”Despiteeverythingthesoundofitmademeawide-eyedlittleboyagain.

Icastmygazearound.Eithersideweretheroundedshapesofthecarriage-guns.Theirbarrelsshonedullyinthedark.AttheotherendofthedeckIcouldseewherearopeladderhungfromasquareofdaylight.Iheadedthereandclimbedtothequarter-deckabove.

Isoondiscoveredhowmyship-mateshadearnedtheirsealegs.Notonlydidtheysportadifferentstyleofdressfrommenoftheland—shortjackets,checkedshirts,long,canvasbreeches—buttheyhadadifferentstyleofwalkingtoo.Theirentirebodiesseemedtomovewiththeship,somethingthathappenedentirelybyinstinct.Ispentmyfirstcoupleofdaysonboardbeingtossedfrompillartopostbytheheavingwavesbeneathus,andhadtogrowaccustomedtothesoundoflaughterasIsprawledyetagaintothedeck,timeaftertime.Butsoon,justasIgotusedtothesmellbelowdecks,theconstantcreakofthehull,andthesensethatthewholeseawaskeptatbaybyafewpunyplanksofwoodandcoatsofcaulking,IalsolearnttomovewiththemotionofthewaterandwiththeEmperor.SoonItoowalkedlikeeveryothermanonboard.

Myshipmateswerenut-brown,everysingleoneofthem.Theirfaceswerelinedandweatheredandsomeoftheoldermenhadskinlikemeltedcandles.Theolderoneswerequiet,mainly,theireyeshoodedandcautious.

Mostworescarvesorhandkerchiefstiedlooselyaroundtheneck,hadtattoos,beardsandworegoldearrings.Therewereoldercrewmatesaboard,theirbrown,

weather-wornfaceslikemeltedcandles,butmostwereabouttenyearsolderthanIwas.Theycamefromallover,Isoondiscovered:London,Scotland,Wales,theWestCountry.Manyofournumberwereblack,aroundathirdofthem,someofwhomwererunawayslaveswho’dfoundfreedomontheseas,treatedasanequalbytheircaptainandship-mates—orshouldthatbe,treatedasthesamelevelofscumbytheircaptainandship-mates.TherewerealsomenfromtheAmericancolonies,fromBoston,Charleston,Newport,NewYorkandSalem.Mostseemedtowearweaponsconstantly:cutlasses,daggers,flint-lockpistols.Alwaysmorethanonepistol,itseemed,whichIsoonfoundoutwasduetothedangerofthefirstonefailingtofirebecauseofadampcharge.

Theylikedtodrinkrum,werealmostunbelievablycoarseintheirlanguageandthewaytheyspokeaboutwomen,andlikednothingbetterthanaroaringargument.Butwhatbondedthemallwerethecaptain’sarticles.

HewasaScotsman.CaptainAlexanderDolzell.Abigman,herarelysmiled.Helikedtoadheretothearticlesoftheshipandlikednothingmorethanremindingusofthem.Standingonthesterncastledeck,hishandsontherailaswestoodassembledonthequarter-deck,maindeckandforecastle,warningusthatanymanwhofellasleepondutywouldbetarredandfeathered.Anymanfoundwithanothermanwouldbepunishedwithcastration.Nosmokingbelowdecks.Nopissingintheballast.(Ofcourse,asI’vealreadytoldyou,thatparticulararticlewassomethingIcarriedovertomyowncommands.)

Iwasfresh,though,andnewonboardship.AtthatstageofmycareerIdon’tthinkitwouldevenhaveoccurredtometobreaktherules.

Isoonbegantosettleintotherhythmoflifeatsea.Ifoundmysealegs,learntwhichsideoftheshiptousedependingonthewindandtoeatwithmyelbowsonthetabletostopmyplatefromslidingaway.Mydaysconsistedofbeingpostedaslookout,oronwatch.Ilearnthowtotakesoundingsinshallowwatersandpickedupthebasicsofthenavigation.Ilearntfromlisteningtothecrew,whowhennotexaggeratingtalesofgoingintobattleagainsttheSpanish,likednothingbetterthantoimpartnuggetsofnauticalwisdom:“Redatnight,sailor’sdelight.Redinthemorning,sailorstakewarning.”

Theweather.Thewinds.Whatslavesweweretoit.Whenitwasbadtheusualcheeryatmospherewouldbereplacedbyoneofgrimindustryastheday-to-daybusinessofkeepingtheshipafloatinhurricanewindsbecameamatterofsimplesurvival,whenwewouldsnatchfoodinbetweenmaintainingsail,patchingthehullandpumpingout.Alldonewiththequiet,concentrateddesperationofmenworkingtosavetheirownlives.

Thosetimeswereexhausting,physicallydraining.I’dbekeptawake,toldtoclimbtherat-linesormanpumpsbelowdecks,andanysleepwouldbesnatchedbelowdecks,curledupagainstthehull.

Thentheweatherwouldabateandlifewouldresume.Iwatchedtheactivitiesoftheoldercrewmates,theirdrinking,gamblingandwomanizing,understandinghowrelativelytamemyownexploitsinBristolhadbeen.IthoughtofthoseIusedtoencounterinthetavernsoftheWestCountry,howtheyconsideredthemselvestobehardeneddrinkersandbrawlers,ifonlytheycouldhavebeenheretoseemyship-matesinaction.Fightswouldbreakoutovernothing.Atthedropofahat.Knivespulled.Blooddrawn.InmyfirstmonthatseaIheardmorebonescrunchthanIhadinthepreviousseventeenyearsofmylife.Anddon’tforget,IgrewupinSwanseaandBristol.

Yet,foralloftheviolence,itwouldseemtodissipateasquicklyasitflaredup.Menwhomomentsbeforehadbeenholdingbladestoeachother’sthroatswouldmakeupinaroundofbackslappingthatlookedalmostaspainfulasthefightingbutseemedtohavethedesiredeffect.Thearticlesstatedthatanyman’squarrelsshouldbeendedonshorebyswordorpistolinaduel.Nobodyreallywantedthat,ofcourse.Aquarrelwasonething,possibilityofdeathquiteanother.Sofightstendedtobeoverasquicklyasthey’dbegun.Temperswouldflare,thendiedown.

Becauseofthis,genuinegrievancesonboardwerefewandfarbetween.Soitwasjustmylucktobeonthereceivingendofone.

IfirstbecameawareofitonmysecondorthirddayonboardbecauseIturned,feelingapenetratingstareuponme,andreturneditwithasmile.Afriendlysmile,orsoIthought.Butoneman’sfriendlysmileisanotherman’scockygrinandallitseemedtodowasinfuriatehimevenmore.Backcameaglare.

Thenextday,asImademywayalongthequarter-deck,IwasstruckbyanelbowsohardthatIfelltomyknees,andwhenIlookedup,expectingtoseeagrinningface—“gotcha!”—Isawonlythesmirkingfaceofthesamemanasheglancedoverhisshoulderonhiswaytohisstation.Hewasabigman.Notthesortyou’dwanttobeonthewrongsideof.LookedlikeIwasonthewrongsideofhim,though.

Later,IspoketoFriday,ablackdeck-handwhooftenhadthehammocknearmine.Describingthemanwhohadknockedmedown,heknewwhoIwastalkingaboutstraightaway.

“That’llbeBlaney.”

Blaney.ThatwasallIeverheardanybodycallhim.Unfortunately—bywhichImean,unfortunatelyforme—Blaneyhatedme.Hehatedthegutsofme.

Therewasprobablyareason.Sincewe’dneverspoken,itcouldn’thavebeenanespeciallygoodreason;theimportantthingwas,itexistedinBlaney’shead,whichattheendofthedaywasallthatmattered.ThatandthefactthatBlaneywasbigandaccordingtoFridayskilledwithasword.

Blaney,youmighthaveguessedbynow,wasoneofthegentlemenIfirstmettheeveningthatIarrivedearlyforthedepartureoftheEmperor.Now,Iknowwhatyou’rethinking;hewastheonetowhomI’dspoken,whowasallreadytoteachmealessonortwoformyimpudence.

Well,no,ifyouthoughtthat,you’dbewrong.Blaneywasoneoftheothermensittingatthecaskplayingcards.Asimple,brutishman,withwhatyoumightcallaprominentforehead,thickeyebrowsthatwerepermanentlybunchedtogetherasthoughhewasalwaysconfusedaboutsomething.Ihardlynoticedhimonthatnight,andthinkingaboutitnow,perhapsthatwaswhyhewassoinfuriated;perhapsthat’swhythegrudgewasborn:he’dfeltignoredbymeandthathadannoyedhimenoughtonurturethishatredofme.

“Whymighthehavetakenagainstme?”Iasked,towhichFridaycouldonlyreplywithashrugandamumbleof“Ignorehim.”Thenheclosedhiseyestoindicateourconversationwasatanend.

SoIdid.Iignoredhim.This—obviously—infuriatedBlaneyevenmore.Blaneydidn’twanttobe

ignored;hewantedtobenoticed.Hewantedtobefeared.MyfailuretobefrightenedofBlaney—yes,itstokedhishatredofme.

SIXTEEN

Meantime,therewereotherthingstothinkabout.Forexample,arumourgoingroundthecrewthatthecaptainwasfeelingleftoutofspoils.Therehadbeennoraidsfortwomonths;we’dnotearnedsomuchasahalfpennyandtherewererumblingsofdiscontent,mostofwhichwerecomingfromhiscabin.Itbecamecommonknowledgethatourcaptainfeltasthoughhewasholdinguphisendofthebargainbutgettinglittleinreturn.

Whatbargain,youmightask?Well,asprivateers,weprovidedapresenceforHerMajesty;itwasasthoughwewereunenlistedsoldiersinherwaragainsttheSpanish.Inreturn,ofcourse,wewereallowedtoraidSpanishshipswithimpunity,whichmeansasmuchaswebloodywellwanted,andforaslongasanyonecouldrememberthat’sexactlywhathadhappened.

TherewerefewerandfewerSpanishshipsatsea,however.Atport,we’dbeguntohearrumoursthatthewarmightbecomingtoanend;thatatreatymightsoonbesigned.

CaptainDolzell,though,well,you’dhavetogivehimcreditforbeingabletolookaheadoftimesandseewhichwaythewindwasblowing,andwhatwithusbeingleftoutofspoils,hedecidedtotakeusonacourseofactionthatwentoutsidetheremitofourlettersofmarque.

Trafford,themate,stoodnexttoCaptainDolzell,whoremovedhistricornandwipedsweatfromhisbrowbeforereplacingitandaddressingusall.

“Thisraidwillmakeusrich,lads,yourpocketswillsplit.ButI’vegottowarnye,andIwouldbefailingmydutyasyourcaptainifIdidnot,thatitisindeedariskyventure.”Risky.Yes.Theriskofcapture,punishmentanddeathbythedropofthe

hangman’sscaffold.Ahangedman’sbowelsopen,I’dbeentold.Apirate’sbreecheswouldbetied

attheanklestostoptheshitescaping.Itwastheindignityofthatwhichscaredmemorethananything.Itwasn’thowIwantedCarolinetorememberme,

danglingfromarope,reekingofshit.IhadnotleftBristolinordertobecomeafugitivefromthelaw,apirate.IfI

stayedwiththeshipandwewentthroughwiththecaptain’splan,thenthatiswhatIwouldbe.WewouldhavethecombinedforcesoftheEastIndiaCompany’sownMarinesplusHerMajesty’sNavyafterus.

No,Ihadn’tjoinedupasaprivateerinordertobecomeapirate,butallthesameifIwasevergoinghome,Icouldn’tdoitpenniless.IhadthisideathatifIreturnedwithrichesIcouldpaythepriceonmyhead;thatmyenemiesmightbeappeased.

Butno,Ihadn’tjoineduptobeapirate.ThemoneyIearnedwouldbeearnedlegally.

Pleaseceaseyoursniggering.IknowhowquaintIsoundnow,butbackthen,Istillhadfervourinmybellyanddreamsinmyhead.Sowhenthecaptainmadehisoffer,sayingheknewnotallonboardwouldwantapartofanybadness,andthatanybodynotwantingapartshouldsaynow,orforeverholdtheirpeace,sothathecouldorganizepassageofftheship,Iwenttostepforward.

Fridaystoppedmewithasurreptitioushand.Notlookingatme.Juststoppingmefrommovingforwardandstaringstraightahead.Fromthesideofhismouthhesaid,“Wait,”andIdidn’thavetowaitlongtofindoutwhy.Fiveofthecrewhadshuffledupthedeck,goodmenwhowantednopartofanypiracy.Atawordfromthecaptainthefirstmatehadthesefivegoodmenthrownoverboard.

IdecidedthereandthentokeepmytrapshutandinsteaddeterminedthatIwouldfollowthecaptain,butonlyuptoapoint.I’dfollowhim,reapmyshareofthemoneywemade,thenjumpship.AfterI’djumpedship,I’djoinupwithotherprivateers—afterall,Iwasbythenanexperiencedjack-tar—anddenyallknowledgeofeverhavingbeenontheEmperorwhenthisterriblecrimewascommitted.

Asplansgo,itwasn’tespeciallysophisticated.Ithaditsflaws,Ihadtoadmit,butyetagainIfoundmyselfstuckbetweenarockandahardplacewithneitherofmyoptionsbeingparticularlyappealing.

Astheappealsofthementhrownoverboardrecededbehindus,thecaptainwentontooutlinehisplansforpiracy.Hedidn’tgosofarassuggestingweattacktheRoyalNavy,thatwouldhavebeensuicide;insteadheknewofatargettobefoundintheWestIndies.Sothere,inJanuary1713,waswheretheEmperorheaded.

SEVENTEEN

JANUARY1713

Aswesailedamongtheislands,wewoulddropanchorinashelteredbayorriverestuaryandmenwouldbesentashoretofindsupplies:wood,water,beer,wine,rum.Wecouldbetherefordaysandwe’dpassthetimecatchingturtlestoeatortakingshotsatbirdsorhuntingcattle,goatsorpigsifwecould.

OncewehadtocareentheEmperor,whichinvolvedbeachingher,thenusingblockandtackletoturnherover.Weusedlittorchestoburnoffseaweedandbarnacles,caulkherandreplaceanyrottenplanks,allunderthedirectionoftheship’scarpenter,whousedtolookforwardtosuchoccasions.Hardlysurprising,really,becausewealsotooktheopportunitytomakerepairstothemastsandspas,sohehadthepleasureoforderingaroundthequartermasteraswellasthefirstandsecondmates,whohadnochoicebuttokeeptheirmouthsshutandcarryonwiththetask.

Theywerehappydays,fishing,hunting,enjoyingthediscomfortofoursuperiors.Itwasalmostadisappointmenthavingtosetsailagain.Butsetsailwedid.

TheshipwewereafterwasamerchantshiprunbytheEastIndiaCompany.There’dbeenmanyrumblingsbelowdecksregardingthewisdomoftheenterprise.Weknewthatbyattackingsuchaprestigiousvesselweweremakingourselveswantedmen.ButthecaptainhadsaidtherewereonlythreenavalwarshipsandtwonavalsloopspatrollingtheentireCaribbeanSea,andthattheEastIndiaCompany’sship,theAmazonGalley,wassaidtobecarryingtreasure,andthatprovidingwebroughttheGalleytoahaltinopenwateroutofsightofland,weshouldbeabletoplundertheshipatourleisure,escapeandbeoutofit.

Wouldn’tthecrewoftheGalleybeabletoidentifyus,though?Iwonderedaloud.Wouldn’ttheytellthenavythey’dbeenattackedbytheEmperor?Friday

hadjustlookedatme.Ididn’tcareforthatlook.Wefounditonthethirddayofhunting.“Sailho!”camethecryfromabove.We’dbeenusedtohearingit,sowe

didn’tgetourhopesraised.Justwatchedasthecaptainandquartermasterconferred.Momentslaterthey’dconfirmeditwastheGalleyandwesetoffacrossthewatertowardsit.

Asweapproachedweraisedaredensign,theBritishflag,andsureenoughtheGalleyremainedwhereshewas,thinkingusanEnglishprivateeronherside.

Whichwewere.Intheory.Menprimedtheirpistolsandcheckedtheactionoftheirswords.Boarding

hooksweretakenupandthegunsmanned.AswecameupalongsideandtheGalleycrewrealizedwewereprimedforbattle,wewerecloseenoughtoseetheirfacesfallandpanicgallopthroughtheshiplikeastartledmare.

Weforcedhertoheaveto.Ourmenracedtothegunwaleswheretheystoodreadyforaction,aimingpistols,manningtheswivelgunsorwithcutlassesdrawnandteethbared.Ihadnopistolandmyswordwasarustyoldthingthequartermasterhadfoundatthebottomofachest,butevenso.Squeezedinbetweenmentwicemyagebuttentimesasfierce,Ididmyutmosttoscowlwithasmuchferocityastheydid.Tolookjustasfierceandsavage.

ThegunsbelowweretrainedontheGalleyopposite.Onewordandthey’dopenfirewithavolleyofshot,enoughtobreaktheirvesselinhalf,sendthemalltothebottomofthesea.Onthefacesoftheircrewwasthesamesick,terrifiedexpression.Thelookofmencaughtout,menwhohadtofacetheterribleconsequences.

“Letyourcaptainidentifyhimself,”ourfirstmatecalledacrossthegapbetweenourtwovessels.Heproducedatimerandbangeditdownonthegunwalerail.“Sendoutyourcaptainbeforethesandsrunout,orweshallopenfire.”

Ittookthemuntiltheirtimewasalmostup,butheappearedondeckatlast,dressedinallhisfineryandfixinguswithwhathehopedwasanexpressionofdefiance—whichcouldn’tdisguisethetrepidationinhiseyes.

Hedidashewastoldandorderedaboattobelaunched,thenclamberedaboardandwasrowedacrosstoourship.SecretlyIcouldn’thelpbutfeelsympathyforhim.Heputhimselfatourmercyinordertoprotecthiscrew,whichwasadmirable,andhisheadwasheldhighwhen,asheascendedtheJacob’sladderfromhisboat,hewasjeeredatbythemenmanningthemountedgunsonthedeckbelow,thengrabbedroughlybytheshouldersanddraggedover

therailofthegunwaletothequarter-deck.Whenhewashauledtohisfeethepulledawayfromthemen’sclutching

hands,threwhisshouldersbackand,afteradjustinghisjacketandcuffs,demandedtoseeourcaptain.

“Aye,I’mhere,”calledDolzell,whocamedownfromthesterncastlewithTrafford,thefirstmate,athisheels.Thecaptainworehistricornwithabandanatiedbeneathit,andhiscutlasswasdrawn.

“What’syourname,Captain?”hesaid.“MynameisCaptainBenjaminPritchard,”repliedthemerchantcaptain

sourly,“andIdemandtoknowthemeaningofthis.”HedrewhimselfuptofullheightbutwasnomatchforthestatureofDolzell.

Fewmenwere.“Themeaningofthis,”repeatedDolzell.Thecaptainworeathinsmile,

possiblythefirsttimeIhadeverseenhimsmile.Hecastanarchlookaroundhismengatheredonthedeck,andacrueltitterranthroughourcrew.

“Yes,”saidCaptainPritchardprimly.Hespokewithanupper-classaccent.Oddly,IwasremindedofCaroline.“Imeanexactlythat.Youareaware,areyounot,thatmyshipisownedandoperatedbytheBritishEastIndiaCompanyandthatweenjoythefullprotectionofHerMajesty’sNavy.”

“Asdowe,”repliedDolzell.Atthesametimeheindicatedtheredensignthatflutteredfromthetopsail.

“Iratherthinkyouforfeitedthatprivilegethemomentyoucommandedustostopatgunpoint.Unless,ofcourse,youhaveanexcellentreasonfordoingso?”

“Ido.”IglancedacrosstowherethecrewoftheGalleywerepinneddownbyour

gunsbutjustasenthralledbytheeventsondeckaswewere.Youcouldhaveheardapindrop.Theonlysoundwastheslappingoftheseaonthehullsofourshipsandthewhisperofthebreezeinourmastsandrigging.

CaptainPritchardwassurprised.“Youdohaveagoodreason?”“Ido.”“Isee.Thenperhapsweshouldhearit.”“Yes,CaptainPritchard.Ihaveforcedyourvesseltoheavetoinorderthatmy

menmightplunderitofallitsvaluables.Yousee,pickingsontheseashavebeenawfullyslimoflate.Mymenaregettingawfullyrestless.Theyarewonderinghowtheywillbepaidonthistrip.”

“Youareaprivateer,sir,”retortedCaptainPritchard.“Ifyoucontinuealongthiscourseofaction,youwillbeapirate,awantedman.”Headdressedthe

entirecrew.“Youallwillbewantedmen.HerMajesty’sNavywillhuntyoudownandarrestyou.You’llbehungatExecutionDock,thenyourbodiesdisplayedinchainsatWapping.Isthatreallywhatyouwant?”Pissingyourselfasyoudied.Stinkingofshit,Ithought.“WayIhearit,HerMajestyisonthevergeofsigningtreatieswiththe

SpanishandthePortuguese.Myservicesasaprivateerwillnolongerberequired.Whatdoyouthinkmycourseofactionwillbethen?”

CaptainPritchardswallowed,fortherewasnorealanswertothat.And,forthefirsttimeever,IsawCaptainDolzellreallysmile,enoughtorevealamouthfullofbrokenandblackenedteeth,likeaplunderedgraveyard.“Now,sir,howaboutweretiretodiscussthewhereaboutsofwhatevertreasureyoumighthappentohaveonboard?”

CaptainPritchardwasabouttocomplain,butTraffordwasalreadymovingforwardtograbhimandhewaspropelledupthestepsandintotheNavigationRoom.Men,meanwhile,turnedtheirattentiontothecrewoftheshipoppositeusandanuneasy,threateningsilencereigned.

Thenwebegantohearthescreams.Ijumped,myeyesgoingtothedoorofthecabinfromwheretheyhadcome.

DartingalookatFriday,IsawthathetoowasstaringatthedooroftheNavigationRoom,anunreadablelookonhisface.

“What’sgoingon?”Iasked.“Hush.Keepyourvoicedown.Whatdoyouthinkisgoingon?”“They’retorturinghim?”Herolledhiseyes.“Whatdidyouexpect,rumandpickles?”Thescreamscontinued.Overontheothershipthemen’sexpressionshad

changed.Amomentagotheystaredatusresentfully,balefully,asthoughbidingtheirtimebeforetheymightlaunchacunningcounter-attack.Likewewerescoundrelsandknavesandwouldsoonbewhippedlikethescurvydogswewere.Intheireyesthenwassheerterrorthattheymightbenext.

Itwasstrange.Ifeltbothashamedandemboldenedbywhatwashappening.I’vecausedmyfairshareofpainandleftterriblesorrowinmywake,butI’veneverbeenabletoabidecrueltyforitsownsake.Dolzellwouldhavesaid,“Notforitsownsake,boy,tofindoutwherethetreasurewashid,”buthewouldhavebeentellingahalf-truth.Forthefactwas,assoonasourmenswarmedtheirvesselthey’dquicklylocatewhateverbootywasaboard.No,therealpurposeoftorturingthecaptainwasthechangingfacesofthemenwhostoodopposite.Itwastostriketerrorintheircrew.

Then,afterIdon’tknowhowlong,perhapsaquarterofanhourorso,whenthescreamshadreachedapeak,whentheheartlesssniggeringofthedeck-handshadbeenexhausted,andeventhemostpitilessmanhadbeguntowonderif,perhaps,enoughpainhadbeeninflictedforoneday,thedoortotheNavigationRoomwasthrownopenandDolzellandTraffordappeared.

Wearingalookofgrimsatisfactionthecaptainsurveyedthemenofourownship,thentheapprehensivefacesoftheothercrew,beforepointingandsaying,“You,boy.”

Hewaspointingatme.“Y-yes,sir,”Istammered.“Intothecabin,boy,guardthecaptain,whilewefindoutwhathis

informationisworth.Youtoo.”Hewaspointingatsomebodyelse.Ididn’tseewho,asIhurriedtothefrontofthequarter-deck,bargingagainstthetideofasurgetowardsthegunwalesasmenreadiedthemselvestoboardtheothership.

IhadthefirstoftwoshocksasIenteredtheNavigationRoomandsawCaptainPritchard.

Thecabinhadalargedining-table,whichhadbeensettooneside.Sotoowasthequartermaster’stable,onwhichwerelaidhisnavigationinstruments,mapsandchart.

InthemiddleofthecabinCaptainPritchardsattiedtoachair,hishandsboundbehindhim.LingeringinthecabinwasabrackishsmellIcouldn’tplace.

CaptainPritchard’sheadhung,chinonhischest.Atthesoundofthedoorhelifteditandfocusedbleary,pain-wrackedeyesonme.

“Myhands,”hecroaked.“Whathavetheydonetomyhands?”BeforeIcouldfindoutIhadmysecondsurprise,whenmyfellowjailerenteredtheroomanditwasnoneotherthanBlaney.Ohshit.Hepulledthedoorshutbehindhim.Hiseyesslidfrommetothe

woundedCaptainPritchardandbacktomeagain.Fromoutsidecamethecriesofourcrewastheypreparedtoboardtheother

shipbutitfeltasthoughwewerecutofffromit,asthoughitwerehappeningfarawayandinvolvedpeoplenotknowntous.IheldBlaney’sgazeasIwalkedaroundtothebackofthecaptain,wherehishandsweretiedbehindhisback.Irealizedwhatthesmellhadbeen.Itwasthesmellofburntflesh.

EIGHTEEN

DolzellandTraffordhadpushedlitfusesbetweenCaptainPritchard’sfingersinordertomakehimtalk.Therewasascatteringofthemontheboardsaswellasajugofsomethingthat,whenIputittomynose,Ithoughtwasbrinethey’dusedtopouronhiswounds,tomakethemmorepainful.

Hishandswereblistered,charredblackinsomeplaces,rawandbleedinginothers,liketenderizedmeat.

Ilookedforaflaskofwater,stillcautiousofBlaney,wonderingwhyhehadn’tmoved.Whyhehadn’tspoken.

Heputmeoutofmymisery.“Well,well,well,”herasped,“wefindourselvestogether.”“Yes,”Ireplieddrily.“Aren’twelucky,mate?”Isawajugofwateronthelongtable.Heignoredmysarcasm.“Whatwouldyoubeupto,exactly?”“I’mfetchingwatertoputonthisman’swounds.”“Captaindidn’tsaynothingabouttendingtotheprisoner’swounds.”“He’sinpain,man,can’tyousee?”“Don’tyoutalktomelikethat,youlittlewhelp,”snappedBlaneywitha

ferocitythatchilledmyblood.Still,Iwasn’tgoingtoshowit.Fullofbravado.Alwaystoughontheoutside.

“Yousoundlikeyou’refixingupforafight,Blaney.”IhopedIcameacrossmoreconfidentthanIfelt.“Imaybeamatthat.”Hehadabraceofpistolsinhisbeltandacutlassathiswaist,butthesilver

thatseemedtoappearinhishand,almostfromnowhere,wasacurveddagger.Iswallowed.“Whatdoyouplanondoing,Blaney,withtheshipabouttomountaraid,and

usinchargeofguardingthecaptainhere?Now,Idon’tknowwhatitisyouhaveagainstme,whatmeasureofgrudgeitisyou’renursing,butit’llhavetobe

settledanothertime,I’mafraid,unlessyou’vegotabetteridea.”WhenBlaneygrinnedagoldtoothflashed.“Oh,I’vegototherideas,boy.An

ideathatmaybethecaptainheretriedtoescapeandranyouthroughintheprocess.Orhowaboutanotherideaaltogether?Anideathatitwasyouwhohelpedthecaptain.Thatyouuntiedtheprisoner’shandsandtriedtomakegoodyourescape,anditwasmewhostoppedyou,runningyouboththroughintheprocess.IthinkIlikethatideaevenbetter.How’saboutthat?”

Hewasserious,Icouldtell.Blaneyhadbeenbidinghistime.Nodoubthewantedtoavoidtheflogginghewouldhavereceivedforgivingmeabeatingbutsuddenlyhehadmewherehewantedme.

Thensomethinghappenedthatfocusedme.I’dknelttoseetothecaptainandsomethingcaughtmyeye.ThethicksignetringhewaswearingboreasymbolIrecognized.

ThedayI’dwokenupontheEmperorI’dfoundalooking-glassbelowdecksandinspectedmywounds.Ihadcuts,bruisesandscrapes.IlookedlikewhatIwas:amanwho’dbeenbeatenup.OneofthemarkswasfromwhereI’dbeenpunchedbythemaninthehood.Hisringhadleftitsimprintonmyskin.Asymbolofacross.

Isawthatverysamesymbolthere,onCaptainPritchard’sring.Despitethepoorman’sdiscomfortIcouldn’thelpmyself.“What’sthis?”Myvoice,alittletoosharpandalittletooloud,wasenoughtoarousethe

suspicionsofBlaney,andhepushedhimselfofftheclosedcabindoorandmovedfurtherintotheroomtosee.

“Whatiswhat?”Pritchardwassaying,butbynowBlaneyhadreachedus.Hetoohadseenthering,onlyhisinterestinitwaslesstodowithitsmeaning,moretodowithitsvalue.Withouthesitation,andheedlessofPritchard’spain,hereachedandyankeditoff,flayingthefingerofburntandcharredskinatthesametime.

Thecaptain’sscreamstooksometimetodiedown,andwhentheyhad,hisheadlolledforwardontohischestandalongropeofsalivadrippedtothecabinfloor.

“Givemethatback,”IsaidtoBlaney.“WhyshouldIgiveittoyou?”“Nowcomeon,Blaney...”Istarted.Thenweheardsomething,ashoutfrom

outside,“Sailho!”Itwasn’tasthoughourfeudwasforgotten,justplacedtoonesidefora

moment.Blaneypointedhisdaggerandsaid,“Waitthere,”ashelefttheroomto

seewhatwasgoingon.Theopendoorframedasceneofsuddenpanicoutsidebutastheshiplurched

itslammedshut.IlookedfromthedoortoCaptainPritchard,groaninginpain.I’dneverwantedtobeapirate.Iwasasheep-farmerfromBristol.Amaninsearchofadventure,it’strue,butbyfairmeansnotfoul.Iwasn’tacriminal,anoutlaw.I’dneverwantedtobepartytothetortureofinnocentmen.

“Untieme,”saidthecaptain,hisvoicedryandpained.“Icanhelpyou.Icanguaranteeyouapardon.”

“Ifyoutellmeaboutthering.”CaptainPritchardwasmovinghisheadslowlyfromsidetosideasthoughto

shakeawaythepain.“Thering,whatring...?”hewassaying,confused,tryingtoworkoutwhyonearththisyoungdeck-handshouldbeaskinghimaboutsuchanirrelevance.

“AmysteriousmanIconsidermyenemyworearingjustlikeyours.Ineedtoknowitssignificance.”

Hegatheredhimself.Hisvoicewasparchedbutmeasured.“Itssignificanceisgreatpower,myfriend,greatpowerthatcanbeusedtohelpyou.”

“Whatifthatgreatpowerwasbeingusedagainstme?”“Thatcanbearrangedaswell.”“Ifeelitalreadyhasbeenusedagainstme.”“SetmefreeandIcanusemyinfluencetofindoutforyou.Whateverwrong

hasbeendonetoyou,Icanseeitputright.”“ItinvolvesthewomanIlove.Somepowerfulmen.”“Therearepowerfulmenandpowerfulmen.IswearontheBible,boy,that

whateverailsyoucanbesolved.Whateverwronghasbeendonetoyoucanbeputright.”

Alreadymyfingerswerefiddlingwithhisknotsbutjustastheropescameawayandslitheredtothecabinfloor,thedoorburstopen.StandinginthedoorwaywasCaptainDolzell.Hiseyeswerewild.Hisswordwasdrawn.Behindhimwasagreatcommotionontheship.MenwhomomentsbeforehadbeenreadytoboardtheAmazonGalley,asorganizedafightingunitaswecouldbe,weresuddenlyindisarray.

CaptainDolzellsaidoneword,butitwasenough.“Privateers.”

NINETEEN

“Sir?”Isaid.Thankfully,DolzellwastoopreoccupiedwithdevelopmentstowonderwhatI

wasdoingstandingbehindCaptainPritchard’schair.“Privateersarecoming,”hecried.

InterrorIlookedfromDolzelltowhereI’djustuntiedCaptainPritchard’shands.

Pritchardrevived.Thoughhehadthepresenceofmindtokeephishandsbehindhisback,hecouldn’tresisttauntingDolzell,“It’sEdwardThatch,cometoourrescue.You’dbetterrun,Captain.Unlikeyou,EdwardThatchisaprivateerloyaltotheCrown,andwhenItellhimwhathastakenplacehere...”

Intwolongstrides,DolzelldartedforwardandthrustthepointofhisswordintoPritchard’sbelly.Pritchardtautenedinhisseat,impaledontheblade.Hisheadshotbackandupside-downeyesfixedonmineforasecondbeforehisbodywentlimpandheslumpedinthechair.

“You’lltellyourfriendnothing,”snarledDolzellasheremovedhisblade.Pritchard’shandsfelltohanglimplybyhissides.“Hishandsareuntied,”Dolzell’saccusingeyeswentfromPritchardtome.“Yourblade,sir,itslicedtherope,”Isaid,whichseemedtosatisfyhim.He

turnedandranfromthecabin.AtthesametimetheEmperorshook—IlaterfoundoutthatThatch’sshiphadhitusside-on.Thereweresomewhosaidthecaptainhadbeenrushingtowardsthefightandthattheimpactoftheprivateers’shiphadknockedhimoffthedeck,overthegunwaleandintothewater.Thereareotherswhosaidthatthecaptain,withimagesofExecutionDockinhismind,hadplungedoffthesideinordertoescapecapture.

FromtheNavigationRoomItookacutlassandapistolthatIthrustintomybelt,thendashedoutofthecabinandontothedeck.

WhatIfoundwasashipatwar.Theprivateershadboardedfromthestarboard,whileontheportsidethecrewoftheAmazonGalleyhadtakentheir

opportunitytofightback.WewerehopelesslyoutnumberedandevenasIranintothefraywithmyswordswingingIcouldseethatthebattlewaslost.Sluicingacrossthedeckwaswhatlookedlikeariverofblood.EverywhereIcouldseelaymenIhadbeenservingwitheitherdeadordrapedoverthegunwales,theirbodieslinedwithbleedingslashes.Otherswerefightingon.Therewastheroarofmusketandpistol,thedaytornapartbytheconstantringofsteel,theagonizedscreamsofthedying,thewarrioryellsoftheattackingbuccaneers.

Evenso,Ifoundmyselfstrangelyontheoutsideofthebattle.Cowardicehasneverbeenaproblemwithme,butIamnotsureIexchangedmorethantwoswordstrokeswithoneoftheenemy,beforeitseemedthebattlewasover.Manyofourmenweredead.Therestbegantodroptotheirkneesandlettheirswordsfalltothedeck,hoping,nodoubt,fortheclemencyofourinvaders.Somestillfoughton,includingthefirstmate,Trafford,andbyhissideamanIdidn’tknow,Melling,Ithinkhisnamewas.AsIwatched,twooftheattackingbuccaneerscameatMelling,atonceswingingtheirswordswithsuchforcethatnoamountoffightingskillscouldstopthemandhewasdrivenbacktotherail,slashesandcutsopeningupinhisface,thenscreamingastheybothstabbedintohim.

Blaneywasthere,Isaw.Also,notfaraway,wasthecaptainoftheprivateers’ship,amanIwouldcometoknowasEdwardThatch,andwhoinyearslatertheworldwouldknowasBlackbeard.Hewasjustasthelegendwouldknowhimthoughhisbeardwasnotsolongbackthen:tallandthin,withthick,darkhair.Hehadbeeninthefray;hisclothesweresplatteredwithbloodanditdrippedfromthebladeofhissword.HeandoneofhismenhadadvancedupthedeckandIfoundmyselfstandingwithtwoofmyship-mates,TraffordandBlaney.

Blaney.Itwouldhavetobehim.Thebattlewasover.IsawBlaneylookfrommetoTraffordthentoThatch.A

planformedandinthenextinstancehe’dcalledtoCaptainThatch,“Sir,shallIfinishthemforyou?”andswepthisswordaroundtopointatmeandTrafford.Formehereservedanespeciallyevilgrin.

Webothstaredathiminabsolutedisbelief.Howcouldhedothis?“Why,youscurvybilge-suckingbastard!”yelledTrafford,outragedatthe

treachery.HeleapttowardsBlaney,jabbinghiscutlassmoreinhopethanexpectation,unlesshisexpectationwastodie,forthat’sexactlywhathappened.

BlaneysteppedeasilytoonesideandatthesametimewhippedhisswordinanunderhandslashacrossTrafford’schest.Thefirstmate’sshirtsplitandblooddrenchedhisfront.Hegruntedinpainandsurprisebutthatdidn’tstophim

launchingasecondyet,sadlyforhim,evenwilderattack.Blaneypunishedhimforit,slashingagainwiththecutlass,landingblowafterblow,catchingTraffordagainandagainacrossthefaceandchest,evenafterTraffordhaddroppedhisownblade,fallentohiskneesand,withawretchedwhimperandbloodbubblingathislips,pitchedforwardtothedeckandlaystill.

Therestofthedeckhadfallensilent;eachmanleftalivewaslookingovertowhereBlaneyandIstoodbetweentheinvadersandtheentrancetothecaptain’scabin.Itfeltasthoughweweretheonlymenalive.

“ShallIfinishhim,sir?”saidBlaney.BeforeIcouldreactthepointofhisswordwasatmythroat.Againhegrinned.

ThecrowdofmenseemedtopartaroundEdwardThatchashesteppedforward.

“Now”—hewavedatBlaneywithhiscutlass,whichstilldrippedwiththebloodofourcrew—“whywouldyoubecallingme,‘sir,’lad?”

ThepointofBlaney’sswordtickledmythroat.“Ihopetojoinyou,sir,”hereplied,“andprovemyloyaltytoyou.”

Thatchturnedhisattentiontome.“Andyou,young’un,whatdidyouhaveinmind,besidesdyingatyourship-mate’ssword,thatis?Wouldyouliketojoinmycrewasaprivateerordieapirate,eitheratthehandsofyourcrewmatehere,orbackhomeinBlighty?”

“Ineverwantedtobeapirate,sir,”Isaidquickly.(Stopyergrinning.)“Imerelywantedtoearnsomemoneyformywife,sir,honestmoneytotakebacktoBristol.”

(ABristolfromwhichIwasbanishedandawifeIwaspreventedfromseeing.ButIdecidednottobotherThatchwiththelittledetails.)

“Aye,”laughedThatch,andthrewoutanarmtoindicatethemassofcapturedmenbehindhim,“andIsupposeIcouldsaythisforeveryoneofyourcrewleftalive.Everymanwillswearheneverintendedacareerinpiracy.Orderedtodoitbythecaptain,they’llsay.Forcedintoitagainsttheirwill.”

“Heruledwitharodofiron,sir,”Isaid.“Anymanwhosaidasmuchwouldbetellingyouthetruth.”

“Howdidyourcaptainmanagetopersuadeyoutoenterintothisactofpiracy,praytell?”demandedThatch.

“Bytellinguswewouldsoonbepiratesanyway,sir,whenatreatywassigned.”

“Wellhe’srightmostlikely”—Thatchsighedthoughtfully—“nodenyingit.Still,that’snoexcuse.”Hegrinned.“NotwhileIremainaprivateerthatis,

sworntoprotectandassistHerMajesty’sNavy,whichincludeswatchingoverthelikesoftheAmazonGalley.Now—you’renotaswordsman,areyou,boy?”

Ishookmyheadno.Thatchchuckled.“Aye,thatisapparent.Didn’tstopyouthrowingyourselfat

thismanherethough,didit?Knowingthatyouwouldmeetyourendatthepointofhissword.Whywasthatthen?”

Ibristled.“Blaneyhadturnedtraitor,sir,Isawred.”Thatchjammedthepointofhiscutlasstothedeck,restedbothhandsonthe

hiltandlookedfrommetoBlaney,whohadaddedwarinesstohisusualexpressionofangryincomprehension.Iknewhowhefelt.ItwasimpossibletosayfromThatch’sdemeanourwherehissympathieslay.HesimplylookedfrommetoBlaney,thenbackagain.FrommetoBlaney,thenbackagain.

“Ihaveanidea,”heroaredatlast,andeverymanonthedeckseemedtorelaxatonce.“Let’ssettlethiswithaduel.Whatdoyousay,lads?”

Likeasetofscales,thecrew’sspiritsroseasminesank.Ihadbarelyusedablade.Blaney,ontheotherhand,wasanexperiencedswordsman.Settlingthematterwouldbetheworkofaheartbeatforhim.

Thatchchuckled.“Ah,butnotwithswords,lads,becausewe’vealreadyseenhowthisoneherehascertainskillswiththeblade.No,Isuggestastraightfight.Noweapons,notevenknives,doesthatsuityou,boy?”

Inoddedyes,thinkingwhatwouldsuitmemostwasnofightatall,butastraightfightwasthebestIcouldhopefor.

“Good.”Thatchclappedhishandsandhisswordshudderedinthewood.“Thenletusbegin.Comeon,lads,formaring,letthesetwogentlemengettoit.”

Theyearwas1713,andIwasabouttodie,Iwassureofit.Thinkingaboutit—thatwasnineyearsago,wasn’tit?Itwouldhavebeenthe

yearyouwereborn.

TWENTY

“Thenletusbegin,”Thatchcommanded.Menhadclimbedtheriggingandclungtothemasts.Menwereintherat-

lines,ontherailsandthetopdecksofallthreeships—everyman-jackofthemcraningtogetabetterview.Playingtothecrowd,Blaneystrippedoffhisshirtsothathewasdowntohisbreeches.Consciousofmypunytorso,Ididthesame.Thenwedroppedourelbows,raisedourfists,eyedeachotherup.

Myopponentgrinnedbehindraisedforearms—hisfistswereasbigashamsandtwiceashard.Hisknuckleslikestatues’noses.No,thisprobablywasn’tquitetheswordfightBlaneywanted,butitwasthenextbestthing.Thechancetopulverizemewiththecaptain’sconsent.Tobeatmetodeathwithoutriskingthetasteofacat-o’-nine-tails.

Fromthedecksandriggingcametheshoutsofthecrewkeentowitnessagoodbout.BywhichImeanabloodybout.Justfromthecatcallsitwasdifficulttomakeoutiftheyhadafavourite,butIputmyselfintheirposition:whatwouldIwanttoseeifIwerethem?I’dwanttoseesport.

Solet’sgiveittothem.IbroughtmyownfistsupandwhatIthoughtaboutwashowBlaneyhadbeenahugepaininthearsefromthemomentIhadsetfootonboard.Nobodyelse.Justhim.Thisthick-as-pigshitcretin.AllmytimeonshipI’dspentdodgingBlaneyandwonderingwhyhehatedmebecauseIwasn’tsnot-nosedandarrogantthen,notlikeI’dbeenbackhome.Lifeonboardhadtamedthatsideofme.IdaresayI’dgrownupabit.WhatI’msayingis,hehadnorealreasontohateme.

Rightthenitcametomethereasonwhy.Hehatedmebecause.Justbecause.IfIhadn’tbeenaroundtohate,hewouldhavefoundsomeoneelsetofillmyshoes.Oneofthecabinboys,perhaps,oneoftheblacksailors.Hejustlikedhating.

AndforthatIhatedhiminreturn,andIchannelledthatfeeling,thathate.Perplexedathishostility?Iturneditintohate.Stayingoutofhiswaydayafter

day?Iturneditintohate.Havingtolookathisstupid,thickfacedayafterday?Turneditintohate.

Becauseofthat,thefirststrikewasmine.Isteppedinanditseemedtoexplodeoutofme,usingmyspeedandmysizetomyadvantage,duckingbeneathhisprotectingfistsandsmashinghiminthesolarplexus.Heletoutanoofandstaggeredback,thesurprisemorethanthepainmakinghimdrophisguard,enoughformetodancequicklytomyleftanddriveforwardwithmyleftfist,findingaspotabovehisrighteyethat,justforonedelicioussecond,Ithoughtmighthavebeengoodenoughtofinishhimoff.

Aroarofapprovalandblood-lustfromthemen.Ithadbeenagoodpunch,enoughtoopenacutthatbegantoleakasteadystreamofblooddownhisface.Butno,itwasn’tenoughtostophimforgood.Instead,thelookofangryincomprehensionhealwaysworebecameevenmoreuncomprehending.Evenangrier.I’dlandedtwopunches,hepreciselynone.Hehadn’tevenmovedfromhisspot.

Iflittedback.I’veneverbeenoneforfancyfoot-work,butcomparedtoBlaneyIwasnimble.PlusIhadtheadvantage.Firstbloodtomeandwiththecrowdonmyside.DavidversusGoliath.

“Comeon,youfatbastard,”Itauntedhim.“Comeon,thisiswhatyouwantedtodotheminuteIcameaboardtheship.Let’sseewhatyougot,Blaney.”

Thecrewhadheardmeandshoutedtheirapproval,perhapsformysheergumption.FromthecornerofmyeyeIsawThatchthrowbackhisheadandlaugh,withhishandathisbelly.Tosaveface,Blaneyhadtoact.Youhavetogiveittohim.Heacted.

FridayhadtoldmethatBlaneywasskilledwithhisbladeandwasanessentialmemberoftheEmperor’sboardingparty.Hehadn’tmentionedthatBlaneywasalsogoodwithhisfistandI,forsomereason,neverassumedhehadmuchinthewayofboxingskills.ButonebitofnauticalwisdomIhadlearntwas“neverassume”and,onthisoccasionatleast,Iignoredit.Onceagainmyarrogancehadgotmeintotrouble.

HowquickthecrowdwastoturnasBlaneystruck.Nevergodowninthefight.It’stheonegoldenrule.ButIhadnochoiceashisfistmadecontactandbellsranginmyheadasIwenttothedeckonmyhandsandkneesandspatoutteethonastringofbloodandphlegm.Myvisionjarredandblurred.I’dbeenhitbefore,ofcourse,manytimes,butnever—never—ashardasthat.

Amidtherushingofmypainandtheroaringofthespectators—roaringforblood,whichBlaneywasgoingtogivetothem,withpleasure—hebenttome,

puttinghisfacecloseenoughformetosmellhisrancidbreath,whichspilledlikefogoverblackandrottedteeth.

“‘Fatbastard,’eh?”hesaid,andhawkedupagreen.Ifeltthewetslapofphlegmonmyface.Onethingyouhavetosayabouta“fatbastard”taunt—italwaysgetsthemgoing.

Thenhestraightened,andhisbootwassoneartomyfaceIcouldseethespider-cracksintheleather.Stilltryingtoshakeoffthepain,Iliftedonepathetichandasthoughtowardofftheinevitablekick.

Thekick,though,wasaimednotatmyfacebutsquarelyatmybelly,sohardthatitliftedmeintotheairandIwasdepositedbacktothedeck.FromthecornerofmyeyeIsawThatch,andperhapsIhadallowedmyselftobelievethathefavouredmeinthebout,buthewaslaughingjustasheartilyatmymisfortuneashehadbeenwhenBlaneywasrocked.IrolledweaklytomysideasIsawBlaneycomingtowardsme.Themenonthedeckswereshoutingforbloodbythen.Heliftedhisboottostampme,lookeduptoThatch.“Sir?”heaskedhim.

Tohellwiththat.Iwasn’twaiting.WithagruntIgrabbedhisfoot,twisteditandsenthimsprawlingbacktothedeck.Atremorofrenewedinterestranthroughthespectators.Whistlesandshouts.Cheersandboos.

Theydidn’tcarewhowon.Theyjustwantedthespectacle.BlaneywasdownandwithafreshsurgeofstrengthIthrewmyselfontopofhim,pummellinghimwithmyfistsatthesametimeasIdrovemykneesintohisgroinandmidriff,attackinghimlikeachildinthethroesofatempertantrum,hopingagainsthopethatImightlayhimoutwithaluckyblow.

Ididn’t.Therewerenoluckyblowsthatday.JustBlaneygrabbingmyfists,wrenchingmetotheside,slammingtheflatofhishandintomyfaceandsendingmeflyingbackwards.Iheardmynosebreakandfeltbloodgushovermytoplip.Blaneylumberedoverandthistimehewasn’twaitingforThatch’spermission.Thistimehewascomingonforthekill.Inhisfistshoneablade...

Therewasthecrackofapistolandaholeappearedonhisforehead.Hismouthdroppedopen,andthefatbastardfelltohiskneesthendeadtothedeck.

WhenmyvisionclearedIsawThatchreachingtohelpmefromthedeckwithonehand.Intheotheraflint-lockpistol,stillwarm.

“Igotavacancyonmycrew,lad,”hesaid.“Doyouwanttofillit?”InoddedyesasIstoodandlookeddownatBlaney’sbody.Awispofsmoke

rosefromthebloodyholeinhisforehead.Shouldhavekilledmewhenyouhadthechance,Ithought.

TWENTY-ONE

MARCH1713

MilesawayinaplaceIhadnevervisitedandneverwould—although,afterall,it’snevertoolate—abunchofrepresentativesofEngland,Spain,France,PortugalandHollandweresittingdowntodraftaseriesoftreatiesthatwouldendupchangingallourlives,forcingustotakeanewdirection,shatteringourdreams.

Butthatwastocome.FirstIfoundmyselfadjustingtoanewlife—alifeIlikedverymuch.

Iwaslucky,Isuppose,becauseEdwardThatchtooktome.Ascrapper,waswhathecalledmeandIthinkhelikedhavingmearound.Heusedtosaythatinmehehadatrustedhand,andhewasright,hedid,forEdwardThatchhadsavedmefromembarkingonalifeofcrimeunderCaptainDolzell—well,eitherthatorbethrownoverboardlikethoseotherpoorfellows.ItwasthankstohisinterventionandbeingtakenunderhiswingthatIcouldmakesomethingofmyself,returntoBristolandtoCarolineasamanofquality,headheldhigh.

Andyes,justbecauseyouandIknowthatitdidn’tworkoutthatwaydoesn’tmakeitanylesstrue.

Lifeatseawasverymuchthesameasithadbeenbefore,butwithcertainattractivedifferences.TherewasnoBlaney,ofcourse.ThelastI’dseenofthatparticularbarnacleonmylifewashimslippingintothesealikeadeadwhale.TherewasnoCaptainAlexanderDolzell,asheendedupbeingcondemnedtodeathbytheBritishin1715.Withoutthosetwo,lifeonshipwasanimmediateimprovement.Itwasthelifeofaprivateer.WeengagedtheSpanishandPortuguesewhenwecould,andtookprizeswhenwewerevictorious.AlongwiththeskillsofasailorIbegantorefinethecraftofcombat.FromThatchIlearntbetterswordskillsandhowtousepistols.

AlsofromEdwardThatch,Ilearntacertainphilosophyonlife,aphilosophythatheinturnhadlearntfromanother,olderbuccaneer,amanunderwhoEdwardservedandwhowouldalsobemymentor.AmannamedBenjaminHornigold.

AndwhereelseshouldImeetBenjaminbutatNassau.

•••

ThePortofNassauonNewProvidenceIslandwasakindofheavenforus.I’mnotsurethatweeverthoughtofthatport,thatlittlebitoftheBahamas,aseverreally“belongingtous,”becausethatwasn’tourway.Nassaufeaturedsteepcliffsononesideflankingitslong,slopingbeachthatsweptdowntoashallowsea—tooshallowforHerMajesty’smen-of-wartogetcloseenoughforabombardment.Itsfortressonthehilloverlookedamotleycollectionofshantyhomes,hutsandcrumblingwoodenterraces,thequaysidewherewedischargedourbootyandsupplies.BenjaminHornigoldwasthere—ofcoursehewas,hehadhelpedestablishitwithTomBarrow.Nassauhadawonderfulharbour,whereourvesselsenjoyedshelterfromtheelementsandfromourenemies.Makinganattackevenmoredifficultwastheshipsgraveyard,wherebeachedgalleonsandmen-of-war—shipsgroundedbyshallowwaters—grounded,looted,burned,inmanycases,theirskeletalremainsawarningtotheunwary.

IlikedBenjamin,ofcourse.HehadbeenBlackbeard’smentorjustasBlackbeardwasmine,andtherewasneverabettersailorthanBenjaminHornigold.

AlthoughyoumaythinkI’monlysayingthisbecauseofwhatsubsequentlyhappened,you’regoingtohavetobelievemewhenIswearit’strue.Ialwaysthoughttherewassomethingapartabouthim.Hornigoldhadamoremilitarybearing,ahawknoselikeatuftEnglishgeneral,andhedressedmorelikeasoldierthanabuccaneer.

Butstill,Ilikedhim,andifIdidn’tlikehimasmuchasIlikedThatch,well,thenIrespectedhimasmuch,ifnotmore.Afterall,BenjaminwastheonewhohadhelpedestablishNassauinthefirstplace.Forthat,ifnothingelse,Ilikedhim.

IwassailingwithThatchinJuly1713whenthequartermasterwaskilledonatripashore.TwoweeksafterthatwereceivedamessageandIwascalledtothecaptain’squarters.

“Canyouread,son?”

“Yes,sir,”Isaid,andIthoughtbrieflyofmywifebackhome.Thatchsatatonesideofhisnavigationtableratherthanbehindit.Hislegs

werecrossedandheworelongblackboots,aredsashathiswaistandfourpistolsinathickleathershoulderbelt.Mapsandchartswerelaidoutbesidehimbutsomethingtoldmeitwasn’tthoseheneededreading.

“Ineedanewquartermaster,”hesaid.“Oh,sir,Idon’tthink...”Heroaredwithlaughter,slappedhisthighs.“No,son,Idon’t‘think’either.

You’retooyoung,andyoudon’thavetheexperiencetobeaquartermaster.Isn’tthatright?”

Ilookedatmyboots.“Comehere,”hesaid,“andreadthis.”IdidasIwasasked,readingaloudashortcommunicationwithnewsofa

treatybetweentheEnglish,theSpanish,Portuguese...“Doesitmean...?”Isaid,whenIhadfinished.“Indeeditdoes,Edward,”hesaid(anditwasthefirsttimehe’devercalled

mebymynameratherthan“son”or“lad’—infact,Idon’tthinkheevercalledme“son”or“lad”again).“ItmeansyourCaptainAlexanderDolzellwasright,andthatthedaysofprivateersfillingtheirbootsareover.I’llbemakinganannouncementtothecrewlater.Willyoufollowmeyourself?”

IwouldhavefollowedhimtotheendsoftheEarthbutIdidn’tsayso.Justnodded,asthoughIhadalotofoptions.

Helookedatme.Allthatblackhairandbeardlenthiseyesanextrapenetratingshine.“Youwillbeapirate,Edward,awantedman.Areyousureyouwantthat?”

Totellyouthetruth,Iwasn’t,butwhatchoicedidIhave?Icouldn’tgobacktoBristol.Ididn’tdaregobackwithoutapotofmoney,andtheonlywayofmakingmoneywastobecomeapirate.

“WeshallsetsailforNassau,”saidThatch.“WepledgedtomeetBenjaminshouldthiseverhappen.Idaresayweshalljoinforces,forwe’llbothlosecrewinthewakeofthisannouncement.

“I’dlikeyoubymyside,Edward.You’vegotcourageandheartandskillinbattle,andIcanalwaysuseamanwithletters.

Inodded,flattered.WhenIwentbacktomyhammock,though,andwasalone,Iclosedmyeyes

forfearthattearsmightsqueezeout.Ihadnotcometoseatobeapirate.Oh,ofcourse,IsawIhadnootherchoicebuttofollowthatpath.Othersweredoingit,

includingThatch.Butevenso,itwasnotwhatIhadwantedformyself.I’dwantedtobeamanofquality,notanoutlaw.

LikeIsay,though,Ididn’tfeelIhadmuchchoice.Fromthatmomenton,IabandonedanyplansIhadofreturningtoBristolasamanofquality.ThebestIcouldhopeforwastoreturntoBristolasamanofmeans.Myquestbecameoneofacquiringriches.FromthatmomentonIwasapirate.

PARTII

TWENTY-TWO

JUNE1715

Thereisnothingquitesoloudasthesoundofacarriage-gunblast.Especiallywhenitgoesoffinyourear.

It’slikebeingpummelledbynothing.Anothingthatseemstowanttocrushyou,andyou’renotsurewhetherit’satrickofyoureyesight,shockedanddazzledbytheblast,orwhethertheworldreallyisshaking.Probablyitdoesn’tevenmatter.Probablyboth.Butthethingis,it’sshaking.

Somewheretheshotimpacts.Boatplankssplinter.Menwiththeirarmsandlegstornoffandmenwholookdownandinthefewsecondstheyhavebeforedyingrealizethathalfoftheirbodyhasbeenshotaway,beginscreaming.Allyouhearintheimmediateaftermathistheshriekingofthedamagedhull,thescreamingofthedying.

Howcloseyouarewilldeterminehowhandsomelyyoureact.Iwouldn’tsayyouevergetusedtotheblastofacarriage-gun,thewayittearsaholeinyourworld,butthetrickistorecoverswiftlyandrecoverfromitmoreswiftlythanyourenemy.

We’dbeenoffthecoastoftheCapeBuenaVistainCubaonashipledbyamanknownasCaptainBramahwhentheEnglishhadattacked.WecalledthoseuponthebrigantinetheEnglisheventhoughEnglishmadeupthecoreofourcrewandImyselfwasEnglishbybirth,Englishinmyheart.Thatcountedfornothingasapirate.YouwereanenemyofHisMajesty(QueenAnnehadbeensucceededbyKingGeorge),anenemyoftheCrown,whichmadeyouanenemyofHisMajesty’sNavy.SowhenwesawtheRedEnsignonthehorizon,thesightofafrigatefoamingacrosstheoceantowardsus,figuresrunningtoandfroonherdecks,whatwesaidwas,“Sailho!TheEnglishareattacking!TheEnglishareattacking!”withnobotherforthesmalldetailsofouractualnationalities.

Weweretoobusytryingtostayalive.Thisonecameatusfast.Weweretryingtoturnandputdistancebetweenus

andhersix-pounders,butsheboredownuponus,slicingacrossourbows,soclosewecouldseethewhitesofthecrew’seyes,theflashoftheirgoldteeth,theglintofsunonthesteelintheirhands.

Flamebloomedalonghersidesashercarriage-gunsthundered.Steeltoretheair.Ourhullshriekedandcrackedastheshotfoundtheirmark.Thedayhadbeenfullofrainbutthepowder-smoketurneditintoanightfullofrain.Itfilledourlungsandmadeuscough,chokeandsplutter,throwingusintoevenmoredisarrayandpanic.

Thenthatfeelingoftheworldcrashingin,thatshock,andthosemomentsofwonderingifyou’dbeenhitandifmaybeyouweredead,andperhapsthiswaswhatitfeltlikeinheaven.Ormostlikely—inmycaseatleast—inhell.Which,ofcourse,itmustbe,becausehellissmokeandfireandpainandscreaming.Sowhetheryouweredeadornot,itmadenodifference.Eitherwayyouwereinhell.

Atthefirstcrash-bangI’draisedmyarmstoprotectmyself.Luckily.Ifeltshardsofsplinteredwoodthatwouldotherwisehavepuncturedmyfaceandeyesembedthemselvesintomyarm,andtheforcewasenoughtosendmestaggeringback,trippingandfalling.

They’dusedbar-shot.Bigironbarsthatwouldblastaholeinvirtuallyanythingprovidedthedistancewascloseenough.They’ddonetheirjob.TheEnglishhadnointerestinboardingus.Aspirateswewouldinflictaslittledamageuponourtargetaspossible.Ouraimwastoboardandloot,overaperiodofdaysifneedsbe.Itwasdifficulttolootasinkingship.ButtheEnglish—orthisparticularcommand,atleast—eithertheyknewwehadnotreasureaboardortheydidn’tcare—theysimplywantedtodestroyusandtheyweredoingabloodygoodjobofit.

Idraggedmyselftomyfeet,feltsomethingwarmrunningdownmyarmandlookedtoseebloodfromasplinterblobtotheplanksofthedeck.WithagrimaceIreachedtotearthewoodfrommyarmandtossedittothedeck,barelyregisteringthepainasIsquintedthroughafogofpowder-smokeandlashingweather.

AcheerwentupfromthecrewoftheEnglishfrigateasshechurnedpastourstarboardside.Therewasthepopandfizzofmusketandflint-lock-pistolshot.Stink-potsandgrenadoescamesailingover,explodingondeckandaddingtothechaos,thedamage,andthechokingsmokethathungoveruslikeadeathshroud.

Thestink-potsinparticularletoutavicioussulphurgasthatsentmentotheirknees,makingtheairsodenseandblackthatitbecamedifficulttosee,tojudgedistance.

Evenso,Isawhim,thehoodedfigurewhostoodontheirforecastledeck.Hisarmswerefolded,andhestoodstillinhisrobes,hisentiredemeanouremanatingunconcernattheeventsthatwereunfoldingaroundhim.Icouldtellallthisfromhispostureandeyes,whichgleamedfrombeneaththecowlofhisrobes.Eyesthat,forasecond,werefixedonme.

Thenourattackerswereswallowedupbysmoke.Aghostshipamidafogofpowderbelch,sizzlingrainandchokingstink-potfumes.

Allaroundmewasthesoundofshatteringwoodandscreamingmen.Thedeadwereeverywhere,litteringtornplanksawashwiththeirblood.ThroughagashinthemaindeckIsawwateronthedecksbelow,andfromaboveheardthecomplaintofwoodandthetearingoftheshroud.Ilookeduptoseeourmainsailwashalf-destroyedbychain-shot.Adeadlookoutwithmostofhisheadshornawayhungbyhisfeetfromthecrow’snestandmenwerealreadyscalingtherat-linestotryandcutthebrokenmastfree,buttheyweretoolate.Shewasalreadylisting,wallowinginthewaterlikeafatwomantakingabath.

Atlast,enoughofthesmokeclearedtoseethattheBritishfrigatewascominground,describingalongcircleinordertouseitsstarboardguns.Butthensheranintoaspotofbadluck.Beforetheshipcouldbebroughttobear,thesamewindthathaddispersedthesmokedropped,andherplumpsailsflattenedandsheslowed.Wehadbeengivenoursecondchance.

“Mantheguns!”Ishouted.Thosemembersofourcrewstillontheirfeetwerescramblingtothemounted

guns.Imannedaswivelgunandwedeliveredabroadsidethattheattackingfrigatecoulddonothingabout,ourshotdoingalmostasmuchdamagetothemastheyhadtous.Itwasourturntocheer.Defeathadturned,ifnotquitetovictory,thenatleasttoaluckyescape.PerhapstherewerethoseofuswhowereevenwonderingwhattreasuresmightbeonboardtheBritishvessel,andIsawoneortwoofourmen,theoptimisticfew,withboardinghooks,axesandmarlinspikes,readytolashtheshipcloseandtakethemman-on-man.

Theirplansweredashedbywhathappenednext.“Themagazine,”camethecry.“She’sgoingup.”ThenewswasfollowedbyscreamsandasIlookedfrommypostatthe

swivelguntowardsthebow,Isawflamesaroundthebreachinthehull.

Meanwhile,fromthesterncamethecriesofthecaptain,whileonthepoop-deckoftheshipopposite,themanintherobesleaptintoaction.Literally.Heunfoldedhisarmsandinoneshortjumpwasontherailofthedeck,theninthenextmomenthadjumpedacross.

ForamomenttheimpressionIhadofhimintheairwaslikeaneagle,hisrobesspreadoutbehindhim,hisarmsoutstretchedlikewings.

NextIsawCaptainBramahfall.Crouchedoverhim,thehoodedman’sarmpulledbackandahiddenbladesprangfromwithinhissleeve.

Thatblade.Iwastransfixedbyitforasecond.Theflamesfromtheburningdeckmadeitalive.AndthenthehoodedmandroveitdeepintoCaptainBramah.

Istoodandstared,myowncutlassinmyhand.FrombehindIvaguelyheardthecriesofthecrewastheytriedinvaintostopthefirespreadingtothemagazine.Itwillgoup,Ithoughtdistractedly,envisioningthebarrelsofgunpowder

storedthere.Themagazinewillexplode.TheEnglishshipwascloseenoughsothattheexplosionwouldsurelyblastaholeinthehullofbothships.AllofthisIknew,butonlyasdistant,distractedthoughts.Iwasspellboundbythehoodedmanatwork.Mesmerizedbythisagentofdeath,whohadignoredthecarnagearoundhimbybidinghistimeandwaitingtostrike.

Thekillwasover,CaptainBramahdead.Theassassinlookedupfromthedeadbodyofthecaptain,andonceagainoureyesmet,onlythistimesomethingflaredwithinhisfeaturesandinthenextinstanthehadboundedtohisfeet,asinglelithejumpthattookhimoverthecorpse,andhewasbearingdownuponme.

Iraisedmycutlass,determinednottogoeasilyintothegreatunknown.Thenfromthestern—fromthemagazine,whereourmenhadobviouslyfailedtodousethefirewhosefingershadfoundthestoresofgunpowder—cameagreatexplosion.

Iwasblastedoffthedeck,flungintheairandfindingamomentofperfectpeace,notknowingwhetherIwasaliveordead,whetherIstillhadallofmylimbsandinthatmomentnotcaringanyway.Ididn’tknowwhereIwouldcometorest:whetherI’dslamtothedeckofashipandbreakmybackorlandimpaledonasnappedmastorbetossedintotheeyeofthemagazineinferno.

OrdowhatIdid,whichwasslapintothesea.Maybealive,maybedead,maybeconscious,maybenot.EitherwayIseemed

todriftnotfarbelowthesurface,watchingtheseaabove,ashiftingmottleofblacks,greysandtheflamingorangeofburningships.Pastmesankdeadbodies,

eyeswideopenasthoughsurprisedindeath.Theydiscolouredthewaterinwhichtheysankandtrailedgutsandstringysinewstringliketentacles.Isawasmashedmizen-masttwirlinginthewater,bodiessnaredinriggingdraggedtothedepths.

IthoughtofCaroline.Ofmyfather.ThenofmyadventuresontheEmperor.IthoughtaboutNassau,wheretherewasonlyonelaw:piratelaw.And,ofcourse,IthoughtabouthowIwasmentoredfromprivateertopiratebyBlackbeard—EdwardThatch.

TWENTY-THREE

AllofthisIthoughtasIsank,eyesopen,awareofeverythinghappeningaroundme,thebodies,thewreckage...Awareofit,yetuncaring.Asthoughitwashappeningtosomebodyelse.Lookingback,Iknowitforwhatitwas,thatbriefmoment—anditwasbrief—asIsankinthewater.Ihad,inthosemoments,lostthewilltolive.

Afterall,thisexpedition—Thatchhadwarnedagainstit.He’dtoldmenottogo.“ThatCaptainBramah’sbadnews,”hesaid.“Youmarkmywords.”

Hewasright.AndIwasgoingtopayformygreedandstupiditywithmylife.ThenIfounditagain.Thewilltogoon.Igraspedit.Ishookit.Ihelditclose

tomybosomfromthatmomenttothisandI’llneverletitgoagain.Mylegskicked,myarmsarrowed,andIstreakedtowardsthesurface,breakingthewaterandgasping—forair,andinshockatthecarnagearoundme,watchingasthelastoftheEnglishfrigateslippedbelowthewater,stillablaze.Allacrosstheoceanweresmallblazessoontobedousedbythewater,floatingdebriseverywhereandmen,ofcourse:survivors.

JustasIhadfeared,thesharksbegantoattack,andthescreamsbegan—screamsofterroratfirst;andthen,asthesharksfirstcircledthenbegantoinvestigatemoreinsistently,screamsofagonythatonlyintensifiedasmorepredatorsgatheredandbegantofeed.ThescreamsI’dheardduringthebattle,agonizedastheywere,werenothingcomparedtotheshrieksthattorethatsoot-filledafternoonapart.

Iwasoneoftheluckyones,whosewoundswerenotenoughtoattracttheirattention,andIswamforshore.AtonepointIwasknockedbyasharkglidingpast,thankfullytooconcernedwithjoiningthefeedingfrenzytostop.MyfootseemedtosnagwhatfeltlikeafininthewaterandIprayedthatwhateverbloodIwasleakingwasnotenoughtotemptthesharkawayfromthemoreplentifulchumelsewhere.Itwasacruelironythatthosemoreheavilywoundedweretheoneswhowereattackedfirst.

Isay“attacked.”YouknowwhatImean.Theywereeaten.Devoured.Howmanysurvivorstherewerefromthebattle,Ihavenowayofknowing.AllIcansayisthatIsawmostsurvivorsendupasfoodforthesharks.Me,IswamtothesafetyofthebeachatCapeBuenaVista,whereIcollapsedwithsheerreliefandexhaustion,andifthedrylandwasn’tmadeupentirelyofsand,Iprobablywouldhavekissedit.

Myhatwasgone.Mybelovedthree-pointerthathadsatuponmyheadasmanandboy.WhatIdidn’tknowatthetime,ofcourse,wasthatitwasthefirststepinmysheddingthepast,sayinggood-byetomyoldlife.What’smore,Istillhadmycutlass,andgiventhechoicebetweenlosingmyhatandcutlass...

So,aftersometimethankingmyluckystarsandhearingfaintscreamsinthedistance,Irolledontomyback,thenheardsomethingfrommyleft.

Itwasagroan.LookingoverIsawthatitsownerwastherobedassassin.He’dcometorestjustashortdistanceawayfrommeandhewaslucky,veryluckynottobeeatenbythesharks,becausewhenherolledovertohisbackheleftbehindapatchofcrimson-stainedsand.Ashelayonhisbackwithhischestrisingandfalling,hisbreathcominginshort,jaggedgasps,hishandswenttohisstomach.Hisobviouslywoundedstomach.

“Wasitgoodforyouaswell?”Iasked,laughing.Somethingaboutthesituationstruckmeasfunny.Evenafterthesefewyearsatsea,therewasstillsomethingoftheBristolbrawleraboutme,whocouldn’thelpbutmakelightofthesituation,nomatterhowdarkitseemed.Heignoredme.Orignoredthequipatleast.

“Havana,”hegroaned.“ImustgettoHavana.”Thatproducedanothersmilefromme.“Well,I’lljustbuildusanothership,

willI?”“Icanpayyou,”hesaidthroughgrittedteeth.“Isn’tthatthesoundyou

pirateslikebest?Athousandreales.”Thathadarousedmyinterest.“Keeptalking.”“Willyou,orwon’tyou?”hedemandedtoknow.Oneofuswasbadlywounded,anditwasn’tme.Istoodtolookhimover,

seeingtherobes,inwhich,presumably,washiddenhisblade.Ilikedthelookofthathiddenblade.Ihadthefeelingthatthemaninpossessionofthatparticularblademightgofar,especiallyinmychosentrade.Let’snotforgetthatbeforemyship’smagazinehadexploded,thisverymanwasabouttousethatverybladeonme.Youmaythinkmecallous.Youmaythinkmecruelandruthless.Butpleaseunderstand,insuchsituationsamanmustdowhatisnecessarytosurvive,anda

goodlessontolearnifyou’restandingonthedeckofaburningshipabouttomoveinforthekill:finishthejob.

Lessontwo:ifyoudon’tmanagetofinishthejob,it’sprobablybestnottoexpecthelpfromyourintendedtarget.

Andlessonthree:ifyouaskyourintendedtargetforhelpanyway,it’sprobablybestnottostartgettingangrywithhim.

ForallthosereasonsIaskyounottojudgeme.IaskyoutounderstandwhyIgazeddownathimsodispassionately.

“Youdon’thavethatgoldonyounow,doyou?”Helookedbackatme,andhiseyesblazedbriefly.Then,inasecond,more

quicklythanIcouldpossiblyhaveanticipated—imagined,even—he’ddrawnapocketpistolandshovedthebarrelintomystomach.Theshockmorethantheimpactofthegun-barrelsentmestaggeringback,onlytofallonmybehindsomefeetaway.Withonehandclutchingathiswound,theotherwiththepistoltrainedonme,hepulledhimselftohisfeet.

“Bloodypirates,”hesnarledthroughclenchedteeth.Isawhisfingerwhitenonthetrigger.Iheardthehammeronthepistolsnap

forwardandclosedmyeyesexpectingtheshottocome.Butitneverdid.Ofcourseitdidn’t.Therewasindeedsomethingunearthly

aboutthisman—hisgrace,hisspeed,hisgarb,hischoiceofweaponry—buthewasstilljustaman,andnomancancommandthesea.Eventhismancouldn’tpreventhispowdergettingwet.

Lessonfour:ifyou’regoingtoignorelessonsone,twoandthree,it’sprobablybestnottopulloutagunfilledwithwetpowder.

Hisadvantagelost,thekillerturnedandheadedstraightforthetreeline,onearmstillclutchinghiswoundedstomachandtheotherwardingoffundergrowthashecrashedintoitandoutofsight.ForasecondIsimplysatthere,unabletobelievemyluck:ifIwereacat,thenI’dhaveusedupatleastthreeofmyninelives,justonthatday.

Withoutasecondthought—well,maybeperhapsasinglesecondthought,because,afterall,I’dseenhiminactionand,woundornowound,hewasdangerous—Itookoffinpursuit.HehadsomethingIwanted.Thathiddenblade.

Iheardhimcrashingthroughthejungleaheadofmeandso,heedlessofthebrancheswhippingmyfaceanddancingoverrootsunderfoot,Igavechase.Ireachedtopreventmyselfbeingslappedinthefacebyathickgreenleafthesizeofabanjoandsawabloodyhandprintonit.Good.Iwasontherighttrack.Fromfurtheraheadcamethesoundofdisturbedbirdscrashingthroughthecanopyof

treesabove.Ihardlyneededtoworryaboutlosinghim:thewholejungleshooktothesoundofhisclumsyprogress.Hisgrace,itseemed,wasnomore,lostintheblunderingfightforsurvival.

“Followme,andI’llkillyou,”Iheardfromaheadofme.Idoubtedthat.AsfarasIcouldsee,hiskillingdayswereover.Soitproved.Ireachedaclearingwherehestood,halfbentoverwiththepain

ofhisstomachwound.He’dbeentryingtodecidewhichroutetotakebutatthesoundofmecrashingoutoftheundergrowth,turnedtofaceme.Aslow,painfulturn,likeanoldmancrippledwithbelly-ache.

Somethingofhisoldpridereturned,andalittlefightcreptintohiseyesastherewasaslidingnoise,andfromhisrightsleevesproutedtheblade,whichgleamedintheduskoftheclearing.

Itstruckmethattheblademusthaveinspiredfearinhisenemies,andthattoinspirefearinyourenemywashalfthebattlewon.Makesomeonefrightenedofyou,thatwasthekey.Unfortunately,justashiskillingdayswereover,sotoowashisabilitytoinspiredreadinhisfoes.Hisrobes,hoodandeventheblade.Withhimexhaustedandhunchedoverwithpain,theylookedlikethetrinketstheywere.Itooknopleasureinkillinghim,andpossiblyhedidn’tevendeservetodie.Ourcaptainhadbeenacruel,ruthlessman,fondofaflogging.Sofond,infact,thathewasapttoadministerthemhimself.He’denjoyeddoingwhathecalled“makingamanagovernorofhisownisland,”which,inotherwords,wasmarooninghim.Nobodybuthisownmotherwasgoingtomournourcaptain’spassing.Toallintentsandpurposes,themanwiththerobeshaddoneusafavour.

Butthemanwiththerobeshadbeenabouttokillmeaswell.Thefirstlessonwasthatifyousetouttokillsomeone,you’dbetterfinishthejob.

Heknewthat,I’msure,ashedied.AfterwardsIrifledthroughhisthings,andyes,thebodywasstillwarm.And

no,I’mnotproudofit,butpleasedon’tforget,Iwas—Iam—apirate.SoIrifledthroughhisthings.FrominsidehisrobesIretrievedasatchel.Hmm,Ithought.Hiddentreasure.ButwhenIupendeditontothegroundsothesuncoulddrythecontents,what

Isawwas...well,nottreasure.Therewasanoddcubemadeofcrystal,withanopeningononeside,anornament,perhaps?(LaterI’dfindoutwhatitwas,ofcourse,whenI’dlaughatmyselfforeverthinkingitamereornament.)SomemapsIlaidtooneside,aswellasaletterwithabrokensealthat,asIbeganreading,IrealizedheldthekeytoeverythingIwantedfromthismysterious

killer...

SeñorDuncanWalpole,

Iacceptyourmostgenerousofferandawaityourarrivalwitheagerness.Ifyoutrulypossesstheinformationwedesire,wehavethemeansto

rewardyouhandsomely.ThoughIdonotknowyourfacebysight,IbelieveIcanrecognizethe

costumemadeinfamousbyyoursecretOrder.Therefore,cometoHavanainhasteandtrustthatyoushallbe

welcomedasaBrother.Itwillbeagreathonourtomeetyouatlast,Señor;toputafacetoyournameandshakeyourhandasIcallyoufriend.Yoursupportforoursecretandmostnoblecauseiswarming.

Yourmosthumbleservant,GovernorLaureanoTorresyAyala

Ireadthelettertwice.Thenathirdtimeforgoodmeasure.GovernorTorres,ofHavana,eh?Ithought.“Rewardyouhandsomely,”eh?Aplanhadbeguntoform.IburiedSeñorDuncanWalpole.Iowedhimthatmuchatleast.Hewentout

ofthisworldthewayhe’darrived—naked—becauseIneededhisclothesinordertobeginmydeceptionand,thoughIdosaysomyself,Ilookedgoodinhisrobes.TheywereaperfectfitandIlookedthepart.

Actingthepart,though,wouldbeanothermatterentirely.ThemanIwasimpersonating?Well,I’vealreadytoldyouoftheaurathatseemedtosurroundhim.WhenIsecuredhishiddenbladetomyownforearmandtriedtoejectitashehad,well—itjustwasn’thappening.Icastmymindbacktoseeinghimdoitandtriedtoimpersonatehim.Aflickofthewrist.Somethingspecial,obviously,tostoptheblade’sengagingbyaccident.Iflickedmywrist.Itwistedmyarm.Iwriggledmyfingers.Alltonoavail.Thebladesatstubbornlyinitshousing.Itlookedbothbeautifulandfearsomebutifitwouldn’tengage,itwasnogoodtomanorbeast.

WhatwasItodo?Carryitaroundandkeeptrying?HopeI’deventuallychanceuponitssecret?SomehowIthoughtnot.Ihadthefeelingtherewas

arcaneknowledgeattachedtothisblade.Founduponme,itcouldbetrayme.WithaheavyheartIcastitaway,thenaddressedthegrave-sideIhad

preparedformyvictim.“Mr.Walpole...”Isaid,“let’scollectyourreward.”

TWENTY-FOUR

IcameuponthematCapeBuenaVistabeachthenextmorning:aschooneranchoredintheharbour,boatsbroughtashoreandcratesoff-loadedanddraggedontothebeachwherethey’dbeenstacked,eitherbythedejected-lookingmenwhosatonthesandwiththeirhandsbound,orperhapsbytheboredEnglishsoldierswhostoodguardoverthem.AsIarrived,athirdboatwasdocking,moresoldiersdisembarkingandcastingtheireyesovertheprisoners.

Whythemenweretiedup,Iwasn’tsure.Theycertainlydidn’tappeartobepirates.Merchantsbythelooksofthem.Eitherway,asanotherrowing-boatapproachedIwasabouttofindout.

“Thecommodore’sgoneaheadtoKingston,”calledoneofthesoldiers.Incommonwiththeothersheworeatricornandwaistcoatandcarriedamusket.“Wearetocommandeerthislubber’sshipandfollow.”

Sothatwasit.TheEnglishwantedtheirship.Theywereasbadaspiratesthemselves.

Merchantsliketoeatalmostasmuchastheyliketodrink.Thustheytendtowardsthestoutside.Oneofthecaptives,however,wasevenmoreflorid-facedandplumpthanhiscompanions.Thiswasthe“lubber”theEnglishweretalkingabout,themanIcametoknowasStedeBonnet,andatthesoundoftheword“Kingston,”he’dseemedtoperkup,andheraisedhishead,whichbeforehadbeencontemplatingthesandwiththelookofamanwonderinghowhe’dgotintothispositionandhowhewasgoingtogetout.

“No,no,”hewassaying,“ourdestinationisHavana.I’mjustamerchant...”“Quiet,youbloodypirate!”Aniratesoldierrespondedbytoeingsandintothe

wretchedman’sface.“Sir”—hecringed—“mycrewandIhavemerelyanchoredtowaterand

resupply.”Then,forsomereasonknownonlytothem,StedeBonnet’scompanions

chosethatmomenttomaketheirescape.Ortrytomaketheirescape.Handsstill

tied,theyscrambledtotheirfeetandbeganalurchingruntowardsthetreelinewhereIhid,watchingthescene.Atthesametimethesoldiers,seeingtheirescape,raisedtheirmuskets.

ShotbeganzingingintothetreesaroundmeandIsawoneofthemerchantsfallinasprayofbloodandbrainmatter.Anotherwentdownheavilywithascream.Meanwhile,oneofthesoldiershadplacedthemuzzleofhisrifleatBonnet’shead.

“GivemeonereasonIshouldn’tventyourskull,”hesnarled.PooroldBonnet,accusedofbeingapirate,abouttolosehisship,and

secondsawayfromasteelballinthebrain.Hedidtheonlythingamaninhispositioncoulddo.Hestammered.Hespluttered.Possiblyevenwethimself.

“Um...um...”Idrewmycutlassandemergedfromthetreelinewiththesunbehindme.The

soldiergaped.WhatImusthavelookedlikeasIsteppedoutoftheglareofthesunshinewithmyrobesflowingandcutlassswingingIdon’tknow,butitwasenoughtogivetheriflemanpauseasecond.Asecondthatcosthimhislife.

Islashedupwards,openinghiswaistcoatandspillinghisgutstothesand,spinningaroundinthesamemovementanddraggingmybladeacrossthethroatofasoldierwhostoodnearby.TwomendeadintheblinkofaneyeandathirdabouttojointhemasIranhimthroughwithmycutlass.Andheslidfrommybladeanddied,writhingonthebeach.Isnatchedmydaggerfrommybeltwithmyotherhand,jammeditintotheeyeofafourth,andhefellbackwithashockedyell,bloodgushingfromthehiltembeddedinhisface,stainingtheteethofhisscreamingmouth.

Thesoldiershadallloosedtheirshotattheescapingmerchants,andthoughtheyweren’tslowtoreload,werestillnomatchforaswordsman.That’sthethingwithsoldiersoftheCrown.Theyrelytoomuchontheirmuskets,greatforfrighteningnativewomen,notsoeffectiveatclosequarterswithascrapperwholearnthistradeinthetavernsofBristol.

ThenextmanwasstillbringinghismuskettobearwhenIdispatchedhimwithtwodecisivestrokes.Thelastofthesoldierswasthefirsttogetasecondshotoff.Ihearditparttheairbymynoseandreactedwithshock,hackingathisarmwildlyuntilhismusketdroppedandhefelltohisknees,pleadingforhislifewitharaisedhanduntilIsilencedhimwiththepointofmycutlassintohisthroat.Hedroppedwithagurgle,hisbloodfloodedthesandaroundhim,andIstoodoverhisbodywithmyshouldersheavingasIcaughtmybreath,hotinmyrobesbutknowingIhadhandledmyselfwell.WhenBonnetthankedme,saying,

“ByGod’sgrace,sir,yousavedme.Aprofusionofthanks!”itwasn’tEdwardKenwaythefarm-boyfromBristolhewasthanking.Ihadstartedagain.IhadbecomeDuncanWalpole.

•••

StedeBonnet,itturnedout,hadnotonlylosthiscrewbuthadnoskillforsailing.IhadsavedhisshipfrombeingcommandeeredbytheEnglishbuttoallintentsandpurposesIcommandeereditmyself.Wehadonethingincommon,atleast,aswewerebothheadingforHavana.Hisshipwasfastandhewastalkativebutgoodcompany,sowesailedtogetherinwhatwasamutuallybeneficialpartnership—forthetimebeingatleast.

AsIsteeredIaskedhimabouthimself.WhatIfoundwasarichbutfretfulman,evidentlyattractedtomore,shallwesay,questionablewaysofmakingevenmoremoney.Foronething,heconstantlyaskedaboutpirates.

“MosthunttheWindwardPassagebetweenCubaandHispaniola,”Itoldhim,suppressingasmileasIsteeredhisschooner.

Headded,“Ishouldn’tworryaboutbeingwaylaidbypirates,truthbetold.MyshipissmallandIhavenothingofimmensevalue.Sugar-caneanditsyields.Molasses,rum,thatsortofthing.”

Ilaughed,thinkingofmyowncrew.“There’snotapiratelivingwho’dturnhisbackonakegofrum.”

Havanawasalowportsurroundedbygreenforestandtallpalmtrees,theirfrondsalushgreenthatwaftedgentlyinthebreeze,wavingusinasourschoonersailedintoport.Inthebusytown,white-stonebuildingswithred-slateroofslookeddilapidatedandweather-beaten,bleachedbythesunandblastedbythewind.

WemooredandBonnetsetabouthisbusinesshelpingtomaintainamicablelinkswithourformerenemiestheSpanish.Hediditusingthatvenerablediplomacytechnique—sellingthemthings.

Heseemedtoknowthecity,soratherthanstrikeoutaloneIwaitedforhisdiplomacymissiontoend,thenagreedtoaccompanyhimtoaninn.Aswemadeourwaythereitoccurredtome—theoldme,theEdwardKenway–me—wouldhavebeenlookingforwardtoreachingthetavern.He’dhavebeengettingthirsty.

ButIhadnourgetodrink—andImulledthatoveraswemadeourwaythroughHavana,weavingthroughtownsfolkwhohurriedalongthesun-drenchedstreets,andwatchedbysuspiciousoldfolkwhosquintedatusfrom

doorways.AllI’ddonewasassumeadifferentnameandclothes,butitwasasthoughIhadbeengivenasecondchanceatbecoming...well...aman.AsifEdwardKenwaywasarehearsalfromwhichIcouldlearnmymistakes.DuncanWalpolewouldbethemanIalwayswantedtobe.

Wereachedtheinn.ThetavernsofEdward’spasthadbeendarkplaceswithlowceilingsandshadowsthatleaptanddancedonthewalls,wheremenhunchedovertankardsandspokefromthesidesoftheirmouths.HerebeneaththeCubansuntwinkledanoutdoortaverncrowdedwithsailorswhowereleathery-facedandsinewyfrommonthsatsea,aswellasportlymerchants—friendsofBonnet,ofcourse—andlocals:menandchildrenwithhandfulsoffruitforsale,womentryingtosellthemselves.

Adirty,drunkendeck-handgavemetheevileyeasItookaseatwhileBonnetdisappearedtomeetthiscontact.Perhapsthissailordidn’tlikethelookofme—aftertheBlaneybusinessIwasusedtothatkindofthing—ormaybehewasarighteousmananddidn’tapproveofthefactthatIswipedthealeofasleepingdrunk.

“CanIhelpyou,friend?”Isaidoverthelipofmybeaker.Thejack-tarmadeasmackingsoundwithhismouth.“FancymeetingaTaffy

deepinDagocountry,”heslurred.“I’mEnglishmeself,bidingmetimetillthenextwarcallsmetoservice.”

Icurledmylip.“LuckyoldKingGeorge,eh?Havingapiss-potlikeyouflyinghisflag.”

Thatmadehimspit.“Oi,skulk,”hesaid.Thesalivagleamedonhislipsasheleanedforwardandhuffedthesoursmellofweek-oldboozeoverme.“I’veseenyourfacebefore,haven’tI?You’smateswiththosepiratesdowninNassau,ain’tyer?”

IfrozeandmyeyesdartedtowhereBonnetstoodwithhisbacktome,thenaroundtherestoftheinn.Itdidn’tlooklikeanybodyhadheard.Iignoredthedrunknexttome.

Heleanedforward,insinuatinghimselfevenfurtherintomyface.“Itisyou,isn’tit?Itis...”

Hisvoicehadbeguntorise.Acoupleofsailorsatatablenearbyglancedourway.

“Itisyou,isn’tit?”Almostshoutingbythen.Istood,grabbedhimwrithingfromhisseatandslammedhimagainstawall.“ShutyourgobbeforeIfillitwithshot.Youhearme?”Thesailorlookedblearilyatme.Ifhe’dheardawordIsaid,heshowedno

sign.Instead,hesquinted,focused,andsaid,“Edward,isn’tit?”Shit.Themosteffectivewaytosilenceablabbermouthjack-tarinaHavanatavern

isaknifeacrossthethroat.OtherwaysincludeakneeinthegroinandthemethodIchose.Islammedmyforeheadintohisfaceandhisnextwordsdiedonabedofbrokenteethasheslippedtothefloorandlaystill.

“Youbastard,”Iheardfrombehindme,andturnedtofindasecondred-facedsailor.Ispreadoutmyhands.Hey,Idon’twanttrouble.

Butitwasn’tenoughtopreventtheright-handeracrossmyfaceandnextIwastryingtopeerthroughathickcrimsoncurtainofpainshootingacrossthebackofmyeyesastwomorecrewmatesarrived.Iswungandmadecontact,givingmeprecioussecondstorecover.ThatEdwardKenwaysideofme,buriedsodeep?Iexhumedhimthenbecausewhereveryougointheworld,whetherit’sBristolorHavana,apubbrawlisapubbrawl.Theysaypracticemakesperfect,andwhileI’dneverclaimtobeperfect,thefightingskillshonedduringmymisspentyouthprevailedandsoonthethreesailorslayinagroaningheapofarmsandlegsandbrokenfurniturefitonlyforkindling.

Iwasstilldustingmyselfoffwhenthecrywentup.“Soldiers!”InthenextmomentIfoundmyselfdoingtwothings:first,runningfullpeltthroughthestreetsofHavanainordertoescapethebeetroot-facedmenwithmuskets;second,tryingnottogetlost.

ImanagedbothandlaterrejoinedBonnetatthetavern,onlytodiscoverthatnotonlyhadthesoldierstakenhissugarbutthepouchI’dtakenfromDuncanWalpoleaswell.ThepouchIwastakingtoTorres.Shit.

ThelossofBonnet’ssugarIcouldlivewith.Butnotthepouch.

TWENTY-FIVE

Havana’sthekindofplacewhereyoucanloiterwithoutattractingmuchattention.Andthat’sonanormalday.Onadaythey’rehangingpirates,loitering’snotonlyexpectedinthesquarewheretheexecutionsareduetotakeplace,it’sbloodywellencouraged.ThealliancebetweenEnglandandSpainmaywellhavebeenanuneasyone,buttherewerecertainmattersonwhichbothcountriesagreed.Oneofthembeing,theybothhatedpirates.Anotherone,theybothlikedtoseepirateshanged.

Soonthescaffoldinfrontusofstoodthreebuccaneerswiththeirhandstied,staringwithwide,frightenedeyesthroughthenoosesinfrontofthem.

NotfarawaywastheSpaniardtheycalledElTiburón,abigmanwithabeardanddeadeyes.Amanwhoneverspokebecausehecouldn’t:amute.Ilookedfromhimtothecondemnedmen,thenfoundIcouldn’tlookatthem,thinking,TherebutforthegraceofGodgoI...

Weweren’thereforthemanyway.BonnetandIstoodwithourbackstoaweather-bleachedstonewall,lookingforalltheworldasthoughwewereidlywatchingtheworldgoby,awaitingtheexecution,andnotatallinterestedintheconversationoftheSpanishsoldiersgossipingnearby.Ohno,notatall.

“Areyoustillkeentolookoverthecargoweconfiscatedlastnight?IhearthereweresomecratesofEnglishsugar.”

“Aye,takenfromtheBarbadianmerchant.”“Duncan,”saidBonnetfromthesideofhismouth,“they’retalkingaboutmy

sugar.”Ilookeddownathimandnodded,gratefulforthetranslation.Thesoldierswentontodiscusslastevening’sbrawlatthetavern.Meanwhile

fromthestageaSpanishofficerwasannouncingtheexecutionofthethreemen,announcingtheircrimesandendingbyintoning,“Youareherebysentencedtobehangedbytheneckuntildead.”

AthissignalElTiburónpulledthelever,thetrap-dooropened,thebodiesfell

andthecrowdwent,“Ooh.”Iforcedmyselftolookatthethreeswingingcorpses,findingthatIheldmy

breathjustincasewhatI’dbeentoldabouttheloosebowelswastrue.Thosebodieswouldbedisplayedingibbetsaroundthecity.BonnetandIhadalreadyseenthemonourtravels.Theyhadlittletoleranceforpirateshereandwantedtheworldtoknowit.

IwashotinmyrobesbutatthatmomentIwasgladofthedisguise.Weleft,ourexpeditiontothescaffoldhavinggivenustheinformationwe

needed.ThecargowasintheCastillo.That,then,waswhereweneededtobe.

TWENTY-SIX

Thevastgrey-stonewallroseaboveus.Diditreallyblockoutthesunorwasitjustanillusion?Eitherwaywefeltcoldandlostinitsshadow,liketwoabandonedchildren.I’llsaythisfortheCubans,ortheSpanish,orwhoeveryou’dsaywasresponsibleforbuildingthegrandCastillodelosTresReyesMagosdelMorro,theyknowhowtobuildanintimidatingfortress.Around150yearsold,itwasbuilttolasttooandlookedasthoughitwouldstillbetherein150years’time.Ilookedfromitswallsouttoseaandpictureditbombardedbythebroadsidesofaman-of-war.Whatimpressionwouldthesteelballsofmountedgunsmake?Iwondered.Notmuch.

Eitherway,Ididn’thaveaman-of-war.Ihadasugarmerchant.Ineededamorecovertwayofgainingentry.TheadvantageIhadwasthatnobodyinhisrightmindactuallywantedtobeontheinsideofthosedark,broodingwalls,forintherewaswheretheSpanishsoldierstorturedconfessionsfromtheirprisonersandperhapsevenperformedsummaryexecutions.Onlyafoolwouldwanttogointhere,wherethesundidn’tshine,wherenobodycouldhearyouscream.Evenso,youcouldn’tjustwalkrightin.“Oi,mate,youcouldn’ttelluswherethelootroomis,couldyou?I’velostapouchfullofimportantdocumentsandaweird-lookingcrystal.”

ThankGod,then,forprostitutes.NotbecauseIwasfeelingrandybutbecauseI’dseenawaytogetinside—insidethefortress,Imean.Thoseladiesofthenight,whosatonafortune,well,theyhadgoodreasontobeontheothersideofthosewalls,sowhobettertogetusin?

“Youneedafriend,gringo?Youneedawoman?”saidone,sidlingupwithabustleoftits,ruby-redlipsandsmokyeyesfullofpromise.

Iusheredherawayfromthecastlewalls.“What’syourname?”Iasked.“Name,señor?”“DoyouspeakEnglish?”

“No,noEnglish.”Ismiled.“Butgoldisalanguageweallspeak,no?”Yes,asitturnedout,Ruthdidspeakgold.Shewasalmostfluentingoldand

sowasherfriend,Jacqueline.Bonnethadbeenhangingaround,lookingshifty.Introductionsweremade

andafewminuteslaterwewerewalking,boldasbrass,tothefrontgateofthecastle.

AtthetopoftheapproachIlookedbacktowherethehustle,bustleandheatofHavanaseemedtorecede,keptatbaybytheforbiddingstoneandtallwatchtowersoftheCastillo,whichradiatedakindofmalignancy,likethemythicalmonsterssailorssaidlivedintheuncharteddepthsofthedeepestoceans:fatanddeadly.Stopit,Itoldmyself.Wehadaplanandneededtoseeifitplayedout.

Intheroleofburlyminder,Ibangedmyfistonthewicketdoorandwewaitedforittoopen.TwoSpanishsoldiers,carryingbayonetedmuskets,steppedoutsideandgaveusthelonglookupanddown:meandBonnet,withespeciallylasciviouslooksreservedforRuthandJacqueline.

Iplayedmypart.Ilookedtough.RuthandJacquelineplayedtheirparts.Theylookedsexy.Bonnet’sjobwastospeakthelingo,someofwhichIcouldunderstand,theresthefilledmeinonlater.

“Hello,”hesaid.“I’mafraidneitherofmytwoladyfriendsspeakSpanish,thusI’vebeenaskedtospeakforthem,andmycolleaguehere”—heindicatedme—“heisheretoensuretheladies’safety.”

(Lie!Iheldmybreath,feelingasthoughtherewasasignaboveourheadsadvertisingourdishonesty.Lie!)

Thetwosoldierslookedatthegirlswho,fortifiedwithgold,nottomentionseveralglassesofrum,preenedandpoutedsoprofessionallythatanybodywouldthinktheydiditforaliving.Itwasn’tenoughtoconvincetheguards,though,whowereabouttowaveusawayandletthemselvesbeswalloweduponceagainbythesquattinggreybeast,whenBonnetsaidthemagicwords:ElTiburón.ThegirlshadbeencalledforbyElTiburón,theexecutionerhimself,heexplained,andtheguardspaled,sharinganervouslook.

We’dseenhimatworkearlier,ofcourse.Ittakesnoskillwhatsoevertopullalever,butitdoesrequireacertain—howshallwesay?—darknessofcharactertopulltheleverthatopensthetrapthatsendsthreemenplummetingtotheirdeaths.SoitwasthatElTiburóninnamealonewasenoughtoinspirefear.

WithawinkBonnetaddedthatElTiburónlikesthegirlsfromPortugal.Ruth

andJacqueline,continuingtoplaytheirpartswell,giggledandblewmockkissesandadjustedtheirbosomsflirtatiously.

“ElTiburónisthegovernor’sright-handman,hisenforcer,”saidoneofthesoldierssuspiciously.“WhatmakesyouthinkhewillbeintheCastillo?”

Iswallowed.Myheartnudgedupagainstmyrib-cageandIcastBonnetasidewayslook.Somuchforhisinformation.

“Mydearman”—hesmiled—“doyoureallythinkthisassignationwouldmeettheapprovalofGovernorTorres?ElTiburónwouldneednewemploymentifthegovernorweretodiscoverhimconsortingwithprostitutes,andasfordoingitonthegovernor’sownproperty...”

Bonnetlookedfromsidetosideandthetwosoldierscranedtohearmoresecrets.

Bonnetcontinued.“Ineedhardlysay,gentlemen,thatbeinginpossessionofthisinformationputsyouinamost—howshallwesay?—delicateposition.OntheonehandyounowknowthingsaboutElTiburón—Havana’smostdangerousman,let’snotforget—hewouldpay,orperhapskill...”Herehepausedjustenoughtoletthisinformationsinkin.“...inordertoprotect.DependingonhowyouwanttoconductyourselvesinpossessionofthisinformationwouldnodoubtdictatethelevelofElTiburón’sgratitude.DoImakemyselfclear,gentlemen?”

Tomeitsoundedasthoughhewasspoutingtwaddle,butitseemedtohavethedesiredeffectonthetwosentries,whoatlaststoodasideandletusin.

Andinwewent.“Themesshall,”saidoneoftheguardsgesturingtowalkwayslookingdown

uponthecourtyardinwhichwewerestanding.Tellthemyou’relookingforElTiburón,they’llpointyouintherightdirection.Andtelltheseladiestobehavethemselveslestyouinadvertentlyrevealthetruenatureofyourbusinesshere.”

Bonnetgavehisbestgreasysmile,bowingaswemovedpastandgivingmeaslywinkatthesametime.Welefttwothoroughlyhoodwinkedguardsinourwake.

FormethefirststopwasthelootroomandIleftthemtoitasIclimbedsteps,hopingforalltheworldthatIlookedlikeIbelongedinthefortress.Atleastitwasquiet:apartfromthesentriestherewereveryfewtroopsabout.Mostseemedtohavecongregatedinthemessroom.

Iheadedstraightforthelootroom,whereIalmostcheeredtofindthepouchwithallthedocumentsandthecrystalpresentandcorrect.Ipocketeditandglancedaround.Bloodyhell.Foralootroomitwaswoefullyemptyofany

actualloot.Alltherewasapartfromapouchcontainingafewgoldcoins(whichwentintomypocket)werecratesofBonnet’ssugar.Itoccurredtomewehadnocontingencyfortheirrescue.Sorry,Bonnet,itwouldhavetowaitforanothertime.

AfewminuteslaterI’drejoinedthem:they’ddecidednottoriskthemessroomandinsteadhadbeenloiteringonthewalkwaysnervouslyawaitingmyreturn.Bonnetwastoorelievedtoseemebacktoaskaboutthesugar—thatparticularpleasurewouldhavetowaituntillater—andwipingnervoussweatfromhisbrow,heusheredusbackalongthepassageanddownthestepstothecourtyard,whereourfriendsthesentriessharedalookasweapproached.

“Isee.Backsosoon...”Bonnetshrugged.“Weaskedatthemesshall,butofElTiburóntherewasno

sign.Possiblytherehasbeensomemistake.Perhapshisdesireshavebeensatisfiedelsewhere...”

“WewilltellElTiburónthatyouwerehere,then,”saidoneoftheguards.Bonnetnoddedapprovingly.“Yes,pleasedothat;butremember,bediscreet.”Thetwoguardsnodded;oneeventappedthesideofhisnose.Oursecret

wouldbesafewiththem.

•••

LaterwestoodontheportwithBonnet’sshipnearby.IhandedhimthepouchI’dfilchedfromthelootroomattheCastillo.It

seemedthedecentthingtodo—tomakeupforhislostsugar.Iwasn’tallbad,youknow.

“Oh,it’snogreatloss,”hesaid,buttookthepouchanyway.“Willyoustaylong?”Iaskedhim.“Forafewweeks,yes.ThenbacktoBarbados,tothetediumofdomesticity.”“Don’tsettlefortedium,”Itoldhim,“sailtoNassau.Livelifeasyouseefit.”Bythenhewashalfwayupthegangplank,hisnewlyacquiredcrewreadying

themselvestosetsail.“Haven’tIheardthatNassauiscrawlingwithpirates?”Helaughed.“Seemsa

verytawdryplace.”Ithoughtofit.“No,nottawdry,”Itoldhim.“Liberated.”Hesmiled.“Oh,God,thatwouldbeanadventure.Butno,no.I’mahusband

andafather.Ihaveresponsibilities.Lifecan’tbeallpleasureanddistraction,

Duncan.”ForamomentI’dforgottenaboutmyassumedidentityandfeltthetremorof

guilt.Bonnethaddonenothingbuthelpme.Quitewhatpossessedme,Iwasn’tsure.GuiltIsuppose.ButItoldhim.

“Hey,Bonnet.Thename’sEdwardintruth.Duncanisonlyanalias.”“Ah...”Hesmiled.“Asecretnameforyoursecretmeetingwiththe

governor...”“Yes,thegovernor,”Isaid.“Right.IthinkI’vekepthimwaitinglong

enough.”

TWENTY-SEVEN

IwentstraighttoGovernorTorres’sresidence,avastmansionsetbehindsteepwallsandmetalgateswellawayfromHavana’shubbub.ThereItoldthesentries,“Goodmorning.Mr.DuncanWalpoleofEnglandtoseethegovernor.Ibelieveheisexpectingme.”

“Yes,Mr.Walpole,pleaseenter.”Thatwaseasy.Thegatessqueaked,ahotsummer’sdaysound,andIsteppedthroughtobe

awardedwithmyfirstglanceofhowtheotherhalflived.Everywherewerepalmtreesandshortstatuesonplinths,andfromsomewherethesoundofrunningwater.Itwasamarkedcontrasttothefortress,opulentwherethathadbeengrimy,gaudywherethathadbeenforbidding.

Aswewalked,thetwosentriesstayedarespectfulbutwatchfuldistancebehind,andmylimitedSpanishpickedupfragmentsoftheirgossip:apparentlyIwasacoupleofdayslate;apparentlyIwasan“asesino,”anassassin,andtherewassomethingaboutthewaytheysaidthewordassassinthatwasodd.Thewaytheystressedit.

Ikeptmyshouldersback,chinheldhigh,thinkingonlythatIneededtocontinuethesubterfugeforashortwhilelonger.I’denjoyedbeingDuncanWalpole—ithadfeltliberatingtoleaveEdwardKenwaybehind,andthereweretimesI’dconsideredsayinggood-byeforgood.CertainlytherewerepartsofDuncanIwantedtokeep,souvenirs,keepsakes:hisrobes,forone,hisfightingstyle.Hisbearing.

Rightnow,though,whatIwantedmostwashisreward.Wecameintoacourtyard,whichwasvaguelyreminiscentofthefortress,

exceptwherethatwasastonydrillsquareoverlookedbyshadowedstonewalkways,thiswasanoasisofsculpture,lush-leavedplants,andtheornategalleriesofthepalacioframingaskyofdeepblue,asunthatsmoulderedinthedistance.

Thereweretwomenalreadythere.Bothwerewell-dressed,menofclassanddistinction.Moredifficulttofool.Closebythemwasarackofweapons.Oneofthemstoodaimingapistolatatargetwhiletheothercleanedapistol.

Atthesoundofmyselfandthesentriesenteringthecourtyardtheshooterlookedover,annoyedattheinterruption.Withalittleshakeofhisshouldershecomposedhimself,squintedalongthelineofthepistolandsqueezedoffashot.

Thesoundrangaroundthecourtyard.Applausecamefromstartledbirds.Atinywispofsmokerosefromthedeadcentreofthetarget,whichhadrockedslightlyonitstripod.Theshooterlookedtohiscompanionwithawrysmile,receivedanimpressedeyebrow-raiseinreturn,thisthevocabularyofthewealthy.Thentheyturnedtheirattentiontome.You’reDuncanWalpole,Itoldmyselfandtriednottowiltbeneaththeir

scrutiny.You’reDuncanWalpole.Amanofdanger.Anequal.Hereattheinvitationofthegovernor.

“Goodmorning,sir!”Themanwhohadbeencleaningthegunsmiledbroadly.Hehadlonggreyinghairtiedback,andafacethathadspentmanyanhourinthesea-breeze.“WouldIbecorrectinthinkingyouareDuncanWalpole?”

RememberinghowWalpolehadspoken.Culturedtones.“Iamindeed,”Ireplied,andIsoundedsofalsetomyownearsthatIhalf

expectedtheguncleanertopointhispistolstraightatmeandordertheguardstoarrestmeonthespot.

Insteadhesaid,“Ithoughtasmuch,”andstillbeamingstrodeacrossthecourtyardtooffermeahandthatwasashardasoak.“WoodesRogers.Apleasure.”

WoodesRogers.I’dheardofhim,andthepirateinmepaledbecauseWoodesRogerswasthescourgeofmykind.Aformerprivateer,he’dsincedeclaredahatredofthosewhoturnedtopiracyandpledgedtoleadexpeditionsaimedatrootingthemout.ApiratesuchasEdwardKenwayhe’dliketoseehanged.

Butyou’reDuncanWalpole,Itoldmyself,andmethiseyeasIshookhishandfirmly.Notapirate,ohno.Perishthethought.Anequal.Hereattheinvitationofthegovernor.

Thethought,comfortingasithadbeen,fadedinmymindasIrealizedthathe’dfixedmewithacuriousgaze.Atthesametimeheworeaquizzicalhalfsmile,asthoughhe’dhadathoughtandwasn’tsurewhethertoletitgofree.

“Imustsay,mywifehasaterribleeyefordescription,”hesaid,evidentlylettinghiscuriositygetthebetterofhim.

“I’msorry?”“Mywife.YoumethersomeyearsagoatthePercys’masqueradeball.”“Ah,quite...”“Shecalledyou‘devilishlyhandsome.’Obviouslyalietostokemyjealousy.”Ilaughedasthoughinonthejoke.ShouldIbeoffendedhedidn’tthinkme

devilishlyhandsome?Orjustpleasedtheconversationhadmovedon?Withmyeyesonhisgun,Iplumpedforthelatter.NowIwasbeingintroducedtothesecondman,adarkFrenchmanwitha

guardedlookcalledJulienDuCasse,whowascallingmethe“guestofhonour”andtalkingaboutsome“order”Iwassupposedtojoin.AgainIwasreferredtoasan“assassin.”AgainitwaswithanoddemphasisIcouldn’tquitedecode.Asesino—assassin—Assassin.Hewasqueryingthehonestyofmy“conversion”tothe“order,”andmymind

returnedthewordingofWalpole’sletter:“Yoursupportforoursecretandmostnoblecauseiswarming.”

What“secretandnoblecause”wouldthatbe,then?Iwondered.“Ihavenotcometodisappoint,”Isaiduncertainly.TellthetruthIdidn’thave

thefoggiestwhathewasonabout.WhatIwantedwastogivethepouchwithonehandandreceiveabulgingpouchofgoldwiththeother.

Failingthat,Iwantedtomoveon,becausejustthenIfeltasthoughmydeceptionwasapttocrumbleatanysecond.IntheenditwasareliefwhenWoodesRogers’sfacebrokeintoagrin—thesamegrinhenodoubthadatthethoughtofpirates’headsinhangmen’snooses—clappedmeonthebackandinsistedItakepartinshooting.

Happytooblige.Anythingtotaketheirmindsoffme,Iengagedtheminconversationatthesametime.“Howisyourwifethesedays,CaptainRogers?IsshehereinHavana?”

Iheldmybreath,steelingmyselfagainsthisnextwords,“Yes!Heresheisrightnow!Darling,yourememberDuncanWalpole,don’tyou?”

Instead,hesaid,“Oh,no.No,we’vebeenseparatedthesetwoyearspast.”“Sorrytohearthat,”Isaid,thinkingwhatexcellentnewsitwas.“Itrustsheiswell,”hewenton,atouchofwistfulnessinhisvoicethat

sparkedabriefthoughtofmyownlostlove,“but...Iwouldn’tknow.IhavebeeninMadagascarsomefourteenmonths,huntingpirates.”

SoIhadheard.“YoumeanLibertalia,thepiratetown?”ThatwasLibertaliainMadagascar.Accordingtolegend,CaptainWilliam

Kiddhadstoppedtherein1697andendedupleavingwithonlyhalfhiscrew,the

restofthemseducedbythelifestyleofapirateutopiawherethemottowas“forGodandliberty,”withtheemphasisonliberty.Wheretheysparedthelivesofprisoners,keptkillingtoaminimum,sharedallthespoilsfairly,nomatteryourrankorstanding.

Itsoundedtoogoodtobetrue,andtherewereplentywhothoughtitwasamythicalplace,butI’dbeenassureditexisted.

Rogerswaslaughing.“WhatIsawinMadagascarwaslittlemorethantheaftermathofasadorgy.Aruffians’squat.Eventheferaldogsseemedashamedofitscondition.Asforthetwentyorthirtymenlivingthere,Icannotsaytheywereragged,sincemostworenoclothesatall.”

IthoughtofNassau,wheresuchlowstandardswouldn’tbetolerated—notbeforenightfallatleast.

“Andhowdidyoudealwiththeirkind?”Iasked,thepictureofinnocence.“Verysimply.Mostpiratesareasignorantasapes.Imerelyofferedthema

choice...TakeapardonandreturntoEnglandpennilessbutfreemen,orbehangedbytheneckuntildead.Ittooksomeworktodislodgethecriminalsthere,butwemanagedit.Infuture,IhopetousethesametacticsthroughouttheWestIndies.”

“Ah,”Isaid.“IimagineNassauwouldbeyournexttarget.”“Veryastute,Duncan.Indeed.Pointoffact...ThemomentIreturnto

England,IintendtopetitionKingGeorgewiththehopeofbecominghisemissaryintheBahamas.Asgovernor,noless.”

Sothatwasit.Nassauwasthenextstep.AplaceIhadcometothinkofasmyspiritualhomewasunderthreat—fromthecarriage-gun,themusketballormaybejustthescratchofaquill.Butunderthreatallthesame.

Imanagedtodistinguishmyselfintheshootingandwasfeelingprettypleasedwithmyselfalltold.Onceagainmythoughtsreturnedtothereward.AssoonasIhadmymoneyIcouldreturntoNassau,andoncetherewarnEdwardandBenjaminthattheinfamousWoodesRogershadaBahamas-shapedbeeinhisbonnetforourlittlepiraterepublic.Thathewascomingforus.

Thenaboxwasopened,andIheardRogerssay,“Wonderful.You’reacrackshot,Duncan.Asgoodwithapistolaswithyourwristblade,Iimagine.”Wristblade,Ithought,distantly.Wristblade?“Ifonlyhehadone,”DuCassewassayingasIpeeredatseveralsetsof

hiddenbladesdisplayedinthebox—bladesthesameasthoseIhadreluctantlydiscardedonthebeachatCapeBuenaVista.“Duncan,whereareyourwristblades?IhaveneverseenanAssassinsoill-equipped.”

Again:assassin.Asin,Assassin.“Ah,damaged,sadly,beyondrepair,”Ireplied.DuCasseindicatedtheselectioninthebox.“Thenhaveyourchoice,”he

purred.WasithisthickFrenchaccentordidhemeantomakeitsoundmorelikeathreatthananoffer?

Iwonderedwherethebladeswerefrom.Otherassassins,ofcourse.(ButassassinsorAssassins?)Walpolehadbeenone,buthadbeenmeaningtoconvert.Atraitor?Butwhatwasthis“order”whichhe’dbeenplanningtojoin?

“Thesearesouvenirs,”Julienwassaying.Deadmen’sblades.Ireachedintotheboxanddrewoneout.Thebladeshone

anditsfixingstrailedagainstmyarm.Atwhichpointitdawnedonme.Theywantedmetouseit,toseemeinaction.Whetherasatestorforsport,itdidn’tmatter.EitherwaytheywantedadisplayofproficiencyinaweaponI’dneverusedbefore.

StraightawayIwentfromcongratulatingmyselfonhavingthrownthebloodythingaway(itwouldhavegivenmeaway!)tocursingmyselffornothavingkeptit(Icouldhavepractisedandbeencompetentwithitbythen).

IsquaredmyshouldersinDuncanWalpole’srobes.Animposter.Allofasudden,Ihadtobehim.Ihadtoreallybehim.

TheywatchedasIstrappedontheblade.Aweakjokeaboutbeingoutofpracticeelicitedpolitebuthumourlesschuckles.WithitonIletmysleevedropdownovermyhandandaswewalkedbegantoflexmyfingers,adjustingmywristandfeelingforthetell-talecatchofthebladeengaging.

Walpole’sbladehadbeenwetthatdaywefought.Whoknows—perhapsitreallyhadbeendamaged.Thisone,greasedandshined,wouldsurelybemorecooperative?

Iprayeditwouldbe.ImaginedthelooksontheirfacesifIsimplyfailedtomakeitwork.“Areyousureyouarewhoyousayyouare?”“Guards!”InstinctivelyIfoundmyselfseekingoutthenearestescaperouteandnotonly

that,butwishingI’djustleftthebloodypouchofdocumentswhereI’dfoundit;wishingI’dleftWalpolewellalone.WhatwaswrongwithlifeasEdwardKenwayanyway?IwaspoorbutatleastIwasalive.IcouldhavebeenbackinNassauatthatmoment,planningraidswithEdwardandeyeingupAnneBonnyatTheOldAvery.

EdwardhadwarnedmenottojoinCaptainBramah.FromthemomentI’d

suggestedit,hetoldmeBramahwasbadnews.Whyhadn’tIbloodylistened?ThevoiceofJulienDuCasseinterruptedmythoughts.“Duncan,”hepronounceditDern-kern,“wouldyouindulgeuswitha

demonstrationofyourtechniques?”Iwasbeingtested.Everyquestion,everychallengetheythrewmyway—it

wasallanattempttoforcemetoprovemymettle.SofarI’dpassed.Notwithflyingcolours,butI’dpassed.

Butwe’dsteppedoutsidetheconfinesofthecourtyardandIwasgreetedwithwhatlookedlikeanewlyconstructedpracticearea,tallpalmsliningeithersideofagrassedavenue,withtargetsatoneendandjustbeyondthatwhatlookedlikeanornamentallake,shimmeringlikeaplatefulofbluesunshine.

Behindthetreeline,shadowsmovedamongthescalytrunksofthepalmtrees.Moreguards,incaseImadeabreakforit.

“Weputtogetherasmalltrainingcourseintheanticipationofyourarrival,”saidRogers.

Iswallowed.Myhostsstoodtooneside:expectant.Rogersstillcarriedthepistol,held

looselyinonehand,buthisfingerwasonthetriggerandJulienrestedhisrightpalmonthehiltofhissword.Behindthetreesthefiguresoftheguardsstoodmotionless,waiting.Eventhechirrupingofinsectsandbirdsseemedtodropaway.

“Itwouldbeashametoleaveherewithoutseeingyouinaction.”WoodesRogerssmiledbuthiseyeswerecold.Andjustmyluck,theonlyweaponIhadIcouldn’tbloodyuse.Doesn’tmatter.Icantakethemanyway.TotheoldBristolianscrapperinme,theywerejustanotherpairoflairytwats

outsideatavern.IthoughtofhowI’dwatchedWalpolefight,withperfectawarenessofhissurroundings.HowIcouldlaythesetwoout,thenbeuponthenearestguardsbeforetheyhadachancetoevenraisetheirmuskets.Yes,Icoulddothat,catchthemunawares...

Nowwasthetime,Ithought.Now.Ibracedanddrewbackmyarmtothrowthefirstpunch.Andthebladeengaged.

TWENTY-EIGHT

“Ohwelldone,Duncan.”Rogersclapped.IlookedfromhimandDuCassetomyshadowcastonthegrass.Ihadstruckquiteapose,thebladeengaged.What’smore,IthoughtIknewhowIhaddoneit.Atensingofmusclethatcameasmuchfromtheupperarmastheforearm...

“Veryimpressive,”saidDuCasse.Hesteppedforward,heldmyarmwithonehandthatheusedtoreleaseacatch,then,verycarefully,usedtheflatofhisotherpalmtoeasethebladebackintoitshousing.

“Now,let’sseeyoudoitagain.”Withouttakingmyeyesoffhim,Itookastepbackthenassumedthesame

position.Thistimetherewasnoluckinvolved,andeventhoughIdidn’tknowquitewhatIwasdoingIhadperfectconfidenceitwouldwork.Don’taskmehowIknew.Ijustdid.Sureenough:Snick.Thebladesprangfromthesupportandglintedevillyintheafternoonsun.

“Alittlenoisy,”Ismiled,gettingcockynow.“Ideally,you’dnothearathing.Otherwise,they’refine.”

TheirchallengeswereinterminablebutbytheendIfeltIwasperformingfortheirpleasureratherthantheirreassurance.Anytestswereover.Theguardshaddriftedaway,andevenDuCasse,whoworehiswarinesslikeafavouredoldcoat,seemedtohavedroppedhisguard.Bythetimeweleftthemakeshifttrainingarea,hewastalkingtomelikeanoldfriend.

“TheAssassinshavetrainedyouwell,Duncan,”hesaid.TheAssassins,Ithought.Sothat’swhatthisgroupwerecalled.Walpolehad

beenamemberbutintendedtobetrayhisbrothers,low-downscum-suckerheobviouslywas.Betraythemforwhat?isthequestion.“Youchosetheperfecttimetoleavethembehind.”“Atgreatrisk,”enthusedRogers.“BetrayingtheAssassinsisnevergoodfor

one’shealth.”

“Well,”Isaid,somewhatpompously,“neitherisdrinkingliquor,butIamdrawntoitsdangersallthesame.”

HechuckledasIturnedmyattentiontoDuCasse.“Whatisyourbusinesshere,sir?Areyouanassociateofthegovernor’s?Ora

pendingacquaintancelikeme?”“Ah,Iam...Howdoyousay?Weaponsdealer.Idealinpilferedgunsand

armaments.”“Asmugglerofsorts,”pipedupRogers.“Guns,blades,grenadoes.Anythingthatmightkillaman,Iamhappyto

provide,”clarifiedtheFrenchman.Bynowwehadreachedtheterrace,whereIfinallyclappedeyesonGovernor

Torres.Hewasaboutseventyyearsold,butnotfat,thewayrichmenget.Apartfrom

aclippedbeard,hisfacewasbrownandlinedandtoppedwithbrushed-forwardthinningwhitehair,andwithonehandonthebowlofalong-stemmedpipe,hepeeredthroughroundspectaclesatcorrespondenceheheldinhisotherhand.

Hedidn’tlookup,notatfirst.Allthelookingwastakencareofbythebig,beardedmanwhostoodpatientlyathisrightshoulder,hisarmsfolded,asstillasoneofthecourtyardstatuesandtentimesasstony.

Irecognizedhimatonce,ofcourse.ThepreviousdayI’dseenhimsendthreepiratestohisdeath;why,thatverymorningI’dpretendedtoprocureprostitutesinhisname.ItwastheSpaniard,ElTiburón,andalthoughbythenIshouldhavebeenaccustomedtointenseexaminationbymyhosts,hiseyesseemedtodrillrightthroughme.Forawhile,ashisstareboredintome,IwasabsolutelycertainthatnotonlyhadhespokentotheguardsattheCastillobutthattheyhadgivenhimadetaileddescription,andthatanysecondhewouldraiseatremblingfinger,pointatme,anddemandtoknowwhyI’dbeenatthefortress.

“GrandMasterTorres.”ItwasRogerswhobrokethesilence.“Mr.DuncanWalpolehasarrived.”Torreslookedupandregardedmeoverthetopofhisspectacles.Henodded,

thenhandedhislettertoElTiburón,andthankGodhedid,foritmeantthatatlastElTiburóntorehiseyesawayfromme.

“Youwereexpectedoneweekago,”saidTorres,butwithoutmuchirritation.“Apologies,Governor,”Ireplied.“Myshipwassetuponbythepiratesand

wewerescuttled.Iarrivedonlyyesterday.”Henoddedthoughtfully.“Unfortunate.Butwereyouabletosalvagefrom

thesepiratestheitemsyoupromisedme?”Inodded,thinking,Onehandgivesyouthepouch,theotherhandtakesthe

money,andfrommyrobestookthesmallhuntingsatchel,bentanddroppedittoalowtablebyTorres’sknees.Hepuffedonhispipe,thenopenedthepouch,tookoutthemaps.I’dseenthemaps,ofcourse,andtheydidn’tmeananythingtome.Nordidthecrystalforthatmatter.ButtheymeantsomethingtoTorresallright.Nodoubtaboutit.

“Incredible,”hesaidintonesofwonderment.“TheAssassinshavemoreresourcesthanIhadimagined...”

Hereachedforthecrystal,squintingatitthroughhisspectaclesandturningitoverinhisfingers.Thisornamentorwhateveritwas...well,tohimitwasnoornament.

HeplacedthepapersandcrystalbackintothesatchelandcrookedahandforElTiburón,whosteppedforwardandtookthesatchel.Withthat,Torresreachedformyhandtoshake,pumpingitvigorouslyashespoke.

“Itisapleasuretomeetyouatlast,Duncan,”hesaid.“Youaremostwelcome.Come,gentlemen.”Hemotionedtotheothers.“Wehavemuchtodiscuss.Come...”

Webegantomoveawayfromtheterrace,allfriendstogether.Stillnowordaboutthebloodyreward.Shit.Iwasgettingdeeper—deeper

intosomethingIwantednopartof.

TWENTY-NINE

Westoodaroundalargetableinaprivateroominsidethemainbuilding:me,Torres,ElTiburón,DuCasseandRogers.

ElTiburón,whoremainedathismaster’sshoulder,heldalong,thinbox,likeacigarbox.DidIimagineit,orwerehiseyesconstantlyonme?Hadhesomehowseenthroughme,orbeenalerted?“Sir,astrangemaninrobeswaslookingforyouatthefortressearlier.”

Ididn’tthinkso,though.Apartfromhim,everybodyelseintheroomseemedrelaxed,acceptingdrinksfromTorresandchattingamiablywhilehemadehisown.Likeanygoodhost,he’densuredhisguestswereholdingfullglassesfirst,butIwonderedwhyhedidn’thavestafftoservethem,thenthoughtIknewtheanswer:itwasthenatureofourbusinessinthisroom.Theatmospheremightwellhavebeenrelaxed—atleastitwasforthetimebeing—butTorreswassuretopostasentry,thenclosethedoorwithagesturethatseemedtosay,Anythingsaidinthisroomisforourearsonly,thekindofgesturethatwasmakingmefeellessreassuredwitheachpassingmoment,wishingI’dtakennoteofthelineintheletteraboutmysupportfortheir“secretandmostnoblecause.”ImustrememberthatnexttimeI’mconsideringbecominganimposter,I

thought—givenoblecausesawideberth.Especiallyifthey’resecretnoblecauses

Butweallhadourdrinkssoatoastwasraised,Torressaying,“ConvenedatlastandinsuchContinentalcompany...England,France,Spain...Citizensofsadandcorruptedempires.”

AtawavefromTorres,ElTiburónmovedacross,openedtheboxheheldandplacedittothetable.Isawred-velvetliningandthegleamofmetalfrominside.Whateveritwas,itlookedsignificantandindeedprovedtobe,asTorres,hissmilefading,thenaturalgleamofhiseyesreplacedbysomethingaltogethermoreserious,beganwhatwasobviouslyaceremonyofsomeimportance.

“ButyouareTemplarsnow,”hewassaying.“Thesecretandtruelegislators

oftheworld.Pleaseholdoutyourhands.”Theconvivialatmospherewassuddenlysolemn.Drinksweresetdown.I

shuffledquicklytotheside,seeingthattheothershadplacedthemselvesatintervalsaroundthetable.NextIdidasIwasaskedandprofferedmyhand,thinking,Templars—sothat’swhattheywere.

Itseemsoddtosaynow,butIrelaxed—Irelaxedinthebeliefthattheywerenothingmoresinisterthanasecretsociety.Asillyclublikeanyothersillyclub,fullofdeluded,pompousfools,whosegrandioseaims(“thesecretandtruelegislatorsoftheworld”noless!)werehotair,justanexcuseforbickeringaboutmeaninglesstitlesandtrinkets.

Whatweretheirpettyconcerns?Iwondered.IfoundIdidn’tcare.Afterall,whywouldI?AsapirateI’drenouncedalllawbutpiratelaw;myfreedomwasabsolute.Iwasgovernedbyrules,ofcourse,buttheyweretherulesoftheseaandadheringtothemwasamatterofneed,forsurvivalratherthantheacquisitionofstatusandthepeacockingofsashesandbaubles.WhatweretheirsquabbleswiththeAssassins?Iwondered,andfoundIcouldn’tgiveafigaboutthateither.

Soyes,Irelaxed.Ididn’ttakethemseriously.TorresplacedthefirstringonDuCasse’sfinger.“Markandrememberour

purpose.Toguideallwaywardsoulstilltheyreachaquietroad.”AsecondringwasplacedonRogers’sfinger.“Toguideallwaywarddesire

tillimpassionedheartsarecooled.”Hotair,Ithought.Nothingbutempty,meaninglessstatements.Nopurpose

otherthantoawardtheirspeakerunearnedauthority.Lookatthemall,lappingitup,likeitmeanssomething.Sillymensodeludedbyasenseoftheirownimportancethattheywereunabletoseethatitextendednofurtherthanthewallsofthemansion.Nobodycares,myfriends.Nobodycaresaboutyoursecretsociety.ThenTorreswasaddressingme,andheplacedonmyfingerathirdring,

saying,“Toguideallwaywardmindstosafeandsoberthought.”Sober,Ithought.Thatwasalaugh.Ilookeddownattheringhe’dputonmyfingerandsuddenlyIwasnolonger

laughing.SuddenlyIwasnolongerthinkingoftheseTemplarsasasillysecretsocietywithnoinfluenceoutsidetheirownhomes,becauseonmyfingerwasthesameringaswornbytheEastIndiaCompany’sshipcaptainBenjaminPritchard,thesameringwornbythemaninthehood,theleaderofthegroupwhoburnedmyfather’sfarmhouse,bothofwhomhadwarnedmeofgreatandterrible

powersatwork.SuddenlyIwasthinkingthatwhateversquabblesthesepeoplehadwiththeAssassinsthen,well,IwasonthesideoftheAssassins.

Forthemoment,Iwouldbidemytime.Torresstoodback.“Bythefatherofunderstanding’slightletourworknow

begin,”hesaid.“Decadesago,thecouncilentrustedmewiththetaskoflocatingintheWestIndiesaforgottenplaceourprecursorsoncecalledTheObservatory.Seehere...”

Onthetablebeforehimwerespreadoutthedocumentsfromthesatchel,placedtherebyElTiburón.

“Lookupontheseimagesandcommitthemtomemory,”addedTorres.“Theytellaveryoldandimportantstory.FortwodecadesnowIhaveendeavouredtolocatethisObservatory.Itisaplacerumouredtocontainatoolofincredibleutilityandpower.Ithousesakindofarmillarysphere,ifyoulike.AdevicethatwouldgrantusthepowertolocateandmonitoreverymanandwomanonEarth,whateverhisorherlocation.

“Onlyimaginewhatitwouldmeantohavesuchpower.Withthisdevice,therewouldbenosecretsamongmen.Nolies.Notrickery.Onlyjustice.Purejustice.ThisisTheObservatory’spromiseandwemusttakeitforourown.”

Sothat,then,waswhereIfirstlearntofTheObservatory.“Doweknowitswhereabouts?”askedRogers.“Wewillsoon,”repliedTorres,“forinourcustodyistheonemanwhodoes.

AmannamedRoberts.OncecalledaSage.”DuCassegaveasmall,scoffinglaugh.“Ithasbeenforty-fiveyearssince

anyonehasseenanactualSage.Canyoubesurethisoneisauthentic?”“Weareconfidentheis,”repliedTorres.“TheAssassinswillcomeforhim,”saidRogers.Ilookedatthedocumentsspreadoutbeforeus.Drawingsofwhatlookedlike

anancientraceofpeoplebuildingsomething—TheObservatory,presumably.Slavesbreakingrocksandcarryinghugestoneblocks.Theylookedhuman,butnotquitehuman.

OnethingIdidknow—aplanwasbeginningtoform.ThisObservatory,whichmeantsomuchtotheTemplars.Whatwoulditbeworth?Moretothepoint,whatwoulditbeworthtoamanplanningrevengeonthepeoplewhohadhelpedtorchhischildhoodhome?

Thesmallcrystalcubefromthepouchwasstillonthetable.Ipuzzledoverit,justasIhadonthebeachatCapeBuenaVista.NowIwatchedasTorresreachedandpickeditup,replyingtoRogersatthesametime.

“IndeedtheAssassinswillcomeforusbut,thankstoDuncanandtheinformationhehasdelivered,theAssassinswon’tbeaproblemformuchlonger.Allwillbemadecleartomorrow,gentlemen,whenyoumeetTheSageforyourselves.Untilthen,letusdrink.”

Ourhostindicatedadrinkstable,andwhilebackswereturnedIreachedtothedocumentsandpocketedamanuscriptpage—apictureofTheObservatory.

IwasjustintimebeforeTorresturned,handingglassestothemen.“LetusfindTheObservatorytogether,forwithitspower,kingswillfall,

clergywillcower,andtheheartsandmindsoftheworldwillbeours.”Wedrank.WedranktogetherthoughIknowforsurewedrankinhonourofvery

differentthingsindeed.

THIRTY

ThenextdayIhadbeenaskedtomeetmy“fellowTemplars”atthecity’sNorthernPorts,whereitwassaidthetreasurefleetwouldbearrivingwithmyreward,andwecoulddiscussfurtherschemes.

Inodded,keentogivetheimpressionthatIwasaneagerTemplar,plottingwithmynewfirmfriendstodowhateveritwasTemplarswereplottingtodo—thesmallmatterofbeingabletoinfluence“everymanandwomanonEarth.”Infact,whatIintendedtodo,justbetweenmeandyou,waspocketthemoney,makemyexcuses,whateverthoseexcusesneededtobe,andleave.Iwaslookingforwardtospendingmymoneyandsharingmynew-foundinformationwithmyconfederatesatNassau,thenfindingTheObservatory,reapingthepay-day,helpingthedownfalloftheseTemplars.

ButfirstIhadtocollectmymoney.“Goodmorning,Duncan,”IheardWoodesRogershailingmefromthedocks.

ItwasafreshmorninginHavana,thesunyettoreachfulltemperatureandalightbreezeblowinginfromtheGulfofMexico.

IbeganfollowingRogers,thenIheardavoiceshout,“Edward!Hello,Edward!”

ForasecondorsoIthoughtitwasacaseofmistakenidentity,evenfoundmyselflookingovermyshouldertoseethis“Edward.”UntilIremembered.Edwardwasme.IwasEdward.StupidEdward.Who,fromamisplacedsenseofguilt,hadadmittedmysecrettoHavana’sbiggestbabbler,StedeBonnet.

“Ifoundamantopurchasemyremainingsugar.QuiteacoupImustsay,”hecalledacrosstheharbour.

Iwavedback—excellentnews—awareofRogers’seyesuponme.“HejustcalledyouEdward,”saidmycompanion.Thatsamecurioussmile

I’dseenyesterdayplayedabouthislipsagain.“Oh,that’sthemerchantwhosailedmehere,”Iexplained,witha

conspiratorialwink.“Outofcaution,Igavehimafalsename.”

“Ah...welldone,”saidRogers.Butnotconvinced.IwasthankfultoleavethemainharbourbehindwhenRogersandIjoinedthe

samegroupofTemplarswho’dmetatTorres’smansionthedaybefore.Handswereshaken,theringsofourbrotherhood,stillfreshonourfingers,glinted,andwegaveeachothershortnods.Brothers.Brothersinasecretsociety.

Torresledustoalineofsmallfishermen’shuts,withrow-boatstetheredinthewaternearby.Therewasnooneabout,notyet.Wehadthissmallareaoftheharbourtoourselves,whichwastheintention,nodoubt,asTorresguidedustotheend,whereguardswaitedbeforeoneofthesmallhuts.Inside,sittingonanupturnedcratewithabeardandraggedclothesandinhiseyesadejectedbutdefiantlook,wasTheSage.

Iwatchedthefacesofmycompanionschange.JustastheconflictbetweendefeatandbelligerenceseemedtoplayoutonthefaceofTheSage,sotheTemplarsappearedtostruggletoo,andtheyreturnedhisglarewithalookthatwasamixofpityandawe.

“Hereheis,”saidTorres,speakingquietly,almostreverently,whetherheknewitornot,“amanbothTemplarsandAssassinshavesoughtforoveradecade.”

HeaddressedTheSage.“IamtoldyoursurnameisRoberts.Isthisso?”Roberts,orTheSage,orwhateverwewerecallinghimthatday,saidnothing.

MerelystaredbalefullyatTorres.WithouttakinghiseyesoffTheSage,Torresreachedahanduptoshoulder

level.OntohispalmElTiburónplacedthecrystalcubefromthepouch.I’dwonderedwhatitwas.Iwasabouttofindout.

Torres,speakingtoTheSageagain,said,“Yourecognizethis,Ithink?”SilencefromTheSage.PerhapsheknewwhatwascomingnextforTorres

indicatedagain,andasecondupturnedcratewasbroughtandhesatonitsothathefacedTheSage,mantoman,exceptthatoneofthemenwasgovernorofHavanaandtheothermanwasraggedandhadwild,hermiteyesandhishandswerebound.

ItwastothoseboundhandsthatTorresreached,bringingthecrystalcubetobear,theninsertingitoverTheSage’sthumb.

Thetwomenstaredateachotherforamomentorso.Torres’sfingersseemedtobemanipulatingTheSage’sthumbsomehow,beforeasingledropletofbloodfilledthevial.

Iwatched,notquitesurewhatIwaswitnessing.TheSageseemedtofeelnopainandyethiseyeswentfromonemantothenextasthoughcursingeachofusinturn,meincluded,fixedwithastareofsuchferocitythatIfoundmyselfhavingtoresisttheimpulsetoshrinkaway.

Whyonearthdidtheyneedthispoorman’sblood?WhatdidithavetodowithTheObservatory?

“Accordingtotheoldtales,thebloodofaSageisrequiredtoenterTheObservatory,”saidDuCasseinawhisper,asthoughreadingmythoughts.

Whentheoperationwasover,Torresstoodfromhiscrate,alittleshaky,withonehandholdingthevialforalltosee.Caughtbythelight,theblood-filledcrystalgavehishandaredglow.

“Wehavethekey,”heannounced.“Nowweneedonlyitslocation.PerhapsMr.Robertswillbeeagertoprovideit.”

Hewavedguardsforward.“Transferhimtomyresidence.”Thatwasit.Theghastlyprocedurewasover,andIwaspleasedtoleavethe

strangescenebehindaswebeganmakingourwaybacktothemainharbour,whereavesselhadarrived.Theonecontainingthetreasure,Ihoped.Isorelyhoped.

“Suchafussoveroneman,”IsaidtoTorresaswewalked,tryingtosoundmorecasualthanIfelt.“IsTheObservatoryreallysuchagrandprize?”

“Yes,indeed,”repliedTorres.“TheObservatorywasatoolbuiltbytheprecursorrace.Itsworthiswithoutmeasure.”

IthoughtoftheancientsIhadseeninthepicturesatthemansion.Torres’sprecursorrace?

“IdowishIcouldremaintoseeourdramadone,”saidRogers,“butImustavailmyselfofthesewindsandsailforEngland.”

Torresnodded.Thatfamiliartwinklehadreturnedtohiseyes.“Byallmeans,Captain.Speedandfortunetoyou.”

Thetwomenshookhands.Brothersinasecretsociety.RogersandIdidthesamebeforethelegendarypiratehunterturnedandleft,offtocontinuebeingthescourgeofbuccaneerseverywhere.Wewouldmeetagain,Iknew.ThoughIhopedthedaywouldcomelaterratherthansooner.

Bythenoneoftheship’sdeck-handshadarrivedandhandedTorressomethingthatlookedsuspiciouslylikeitmightcontainmymoney.NotthatthebagseemedquiteasheftyasI’dhoped.

“Iconsiderthisthefirstpaymentinalong-livedinvestment,”saidTorres,

handingmethepouch—thesuspiciouslylightpouch.“Thankyou.”Itookitcautiously,knowingbytheweightthattherewasmoretocome,both

intermsofmoneyaswellasmorechallengesformetoface.“Iwouldlikeyoutobepresentfortheinterrogationtomorrow.Callaround

noon,”saidTorres.Sothatwasit.InordertocollecttherestofmyfeeIneededtoseeTheSage

terrifiedfurther.TorresleftmeandIstoodthereforamomentonthedock,deepinthought,

beforeleavingtoprepare.Ihaddecided.IwasgoingtorescueTheSage.IwonderwhyIdecidedtorescueTheSage.Imean,whydidn’tIsimplytake

whatmoneyI’dbeengiven,showacleanpairofheelsandfillthesailsonapassagetoNassauinthenorth-east?BacktoEdward,BenjaminandthedelightsofTheOldAvery.

I’dliketosayitwasanobledesiretofreeTheSage,buttherewasabitmoretoitthanthat.Afterall,hecouldhelpfindthisObservatory,thisdevicetofollowpeoplearound.Whatwouldathinglikethatbeworth?SellittotherightpersonandIwouldberich,therichestpirateintheWestIndies.IcouldreturntoCarolinearichman.Soperhapsitwasmerelygreedthatmademedecidetorescuehim.Lookingback,probablyamixtureofthetwo.

Eitherway,itwasadecisionI’dshortlyregret.

THIRTY-ONE

Night-time,andthewallsofTorres’smansionformedablackborderbeneathagrey,starlesssky.Thechirpinginsectswereattheirloudest,almostdrowningoutthetrickleofrunningwaterandthesoftrattleofthepalmtrees.

Withaquicklookleftandright—myapproachhadbeentimedtomakesurenosentrieswerepresent—Iflexedmyfingersandjumped,pulledmyselfuptothetopofthewall,thenlaythereforasecondtocontrolmybreathingandlistenforrunningfeet,criesof“hey!”ortheswishofswordsbeingdrawn.

Whentherewasnothing—nothingapartfromthein-sects,thewater,thewhisperofnightwindamongthetrees—IdroppeddowntotheothersideandintothegroundsoftheHavanagovernor’smansion.

LikeaghostImademywayacrossthegardensandintothemainbuilding,whereIhuggedthewallsalongtheperimeterofthecourtyard.OnmyrightforearmIfeltthecomfortingpresenceofmyhiddenbladeandstrappedacrossmychestweremypistols.Ashort-swordhungfrommybeltbeneathmyrobesandIworemycowlovermyhead.Ifeltinvisible.Ifeltlethal.IfeltasthoughIwasabouttodeliverablowagainsttheTemplarsandeventhoughfreeingTheSagewasn’tequaltotheharmtheirbrothershaddonemeandthiswasn’tgoingtoeventhescore,itwasastart.Itwasafirststrike.

What’smore,I’dhavethelocationofTheObservatoryandcouldreachitbeforetheydidandthatwasafar,farbiggerblow.Thatwouldhurt.I’dthinkofhowmuchitwouldhurtthemwhileIwascountingmymoney.

I’dhadtomakeaninformedguessastowherethegovernorkepthisstateprisons,butI’mpleasedtosayIwasright.Itwasasmallcompound,separatefromthemansion,whereIfoundahighwalland...That’sodd.Whyisthedoorhangingopen?Islidthrough.Flamingtorchesbracketedonthewallsilluminatedasceneof

carnage.Fouroffivesoldiersdeadinthedirt,gapingholesattheirthroats,pulverizedmeatattheirchests.

IhadnoideawhereTheSagehadbeenkeptbutonethingwasbeyonddoubt:hewasn’thereanylonger.

Iheardasoundbehindmetoolatetostoptheblowbutintimetopreventitsknockingmeout,andIpitchedforward,landingbadlyonthedirt,buthavingthepresenceofmindtoroll.ApikestaffwithmynameonitwasdrivenintothegroundwhereI’dbeen.Attheotherendofitwasasurprisedsoldier.Ikickedmyselfup,grabbedhisshouldersandspan.AtthesametimeIkickedattheshaftofthepikestaffandsnappedit,thenrammedhisbodyontoit.

Hefloppedlikealandedfish,impaledonthesnappedshaftofhisownpikestaff,butIdidn’tstickaroundtoadmirehisdeath-throes.Thesecondsoldierwasuponme,angry,thewayyougetwhenyouseeyourfrienddie.Now,Ithought,let’sseeifthisworkseverytime.Snick.ThehiddenbladeengagedandImetthesteelofhisbladewithsteelofmy

own,knockinghisswordawayandslashingopenhisthroatwiththebackswipe.Idrewtheswordatmybeltintimetomeetathirdattacker.Behindhimweretwosoldierswithmuskets.ClosebywasElTiburón,hissworddrawnbutheldathishipashewatchedthefight.IsawoneofthesoldiersgrimaceanditwasalookIrecognized,alookI’veseenbeforefrommenonthedeckofashiplashedtomine.

HefiredjustasIdrovebothmyswordandhiddenbladeintothesoldierinfrontofme,pinninghimwiththebladesandswinginghimaroundatthesametime.Hisbody,alreadydead,jerkedasthemusketballslammedintohim.

Iletmyhumanshieldgo,pluckingadaggerfromhisbeltashedroppedandprayingthatmyaimwouldbeasgoodasitalwayshadbeen,aftercountlesshoursathomespenttormentingthetrunksoftreeswiththrowingknives.

Itwas.Itookoutnotthefirstmusketeer—hewasalreadymakingapanickyattempttoreload—butthesecond,whofellwiththeknifeembeddedbetweenhisribs.

InaboundIwasovertothefirstoneandpunchedhiminthestomachwithmybladehand,sothathecoughedanddiedontheshaft.BloodbeadsdescribedanarcinthenightasIpulledthebladefreeandspantomeettheattackofElTiburón.

Therewasnoattack,though.InsteadElTiburóncalmedthetempoofthefight,andratherthanbeginhis

attackstraightaway,simplystoodandverycasuallytossedhisswordfromonehandtotheotherbeforeaddressingmewithit.

Fine.Atleasttherewouldn’tbealotofchatduringthisbout.Isnarledandcameforward,bladescuttinghalfcirclesintheair,hopingto

dazeordisorienthim.Hisexpressionhardlychanged,andwithfastmovementsofhiselbowandforearmhemetmyattackeasily.Hewasconcentratingonmylefthand,thehandthatheldthesword,andbeforeIevenrealizedhewasdoingit,mycutlasswentspinningfrommybloodyfingerstothedirt.

MyhiddenbladewasallIhadleftnow.Heconcentratedonit,knowingitwasnewtome.Behindhimmoreguardshadgatheredinthecourtyard,andthoughIcouldn’tunderstandwhattheyweresaying,itwasobvious:IwasnomatchforElTiburón;myendwasbutaheartbeataway.

Soitproved.Thelastofhisattacksendedwithasmashoftheknuckleguardacrossmychin,andIfeltteethloosenandmyheadspinasIsank,firsttomyknees,beforepitchingforward.Beneathmyrobes,bloodsluiceddownmysideslikesweat,andwhatlittlefightwasleftinmewasleachedawaybythepain.

ElTiburóncameforward.Abootsteppedontomybladeandheldmyarminplace,anddimlyIwonderedifthebladehadaquick-releasebuckleeventhoughitwoulddomenogood,asthetipofhisswordnudgedmyneck,readyforthefinallethalstrike...

“Enough,”camethecryfromthecompounddoor.SquintingthroughaveilofbloodIsawtheguardspartandTorresstepthrough,followedcloselybyDuCasse.ThetwoTemplarsshoulderedElTiburónaside,andwiththemerestflickerofirritationinhiseyes—thehunterdeniedhiskill—theenforcersteppedaway.Iwasn’tsadtoseehimgo.

Igaspedraggedbreath.MymouthfilledwithbloodandIspatasTorresandDuCassecrouched,studyingmeliketwomedicalmenexaminingapatient.WhentheFrenchmanreachedformyforearmIhalfexpectedhimtofeelformypulsebutinsteadhedisengagedthehiddenblade,unclippeditwithpractisedfingers,thentosseditaway.Torreslookedatme,andIwonderedifhereallywasasdisappointedashelooked,orwhetheritwastheatrics.Hetookholdofmyotherhand,removedmyTemplarringandpocketedit.

“Whatisyourtruename,rogue?”saidTorres.DisarmedasIwas,theyletmepullmyselftoasittingposition.“It’s,ah...

CaptainPissoff.”AgainIspatclosetoDuCasse’sshoe,andhelookedfromthegobbetofblood

tomewithasneer.“Nothingbutafilthypeasant.”Hemovedtostrikeme,butTorresheldhimback.Torreshadbeenlookingaroundthecourtyardatthebodies,asthoughtryingtoassessthesituation.

“WhereisTheSage?”heasked.“Didyousethimfree?”“Ihadnothingtodowiththat,muchasIwishIdid,”Imanaged.AsfarasIwasconcernedTheSagehadeitherbeensprungbyAssassin

friendsorstagedanescapehimself.Eitherway,hewasout—outofharm’swayandinpossessionoftheonesecretweallwanted:TheObservatorylocation.Mytripwasawastedone.

Torreslookedatmeandmusthaveseenthetruthinmyeyes.HisTemplaraffiliationsmadehimmyenemy,buttherewassomethingintheoldmanIliked,orrespected,atleast.Perhapshesawsomethinginme,asensethatmaybeweweren’tsodifferent.OnethingIknewforcertainwasthatifthedecisionhadbeenlefttoDuCasse,I’dhavebeenwatchingmygutsdroptothecompoundfloor;instead,Torresstoodupandsignalledtohismen.

“Takehimtotheports.SendhimtoSevillewiththetreasurefleet.”“ToSeville?”queriedDuCasse.“Yes,”repliedTorres.“Butwecaninterrogatehimourselves,”saidDuCasse.Iheardthecruelsmile

inhisvoice.“Indeed...itwouldbeapleasure.”“WhichisexactlywhyIintendtoentrustthejobtoourcolleaguesinSpain,”

saidTorresfirmly.“Ihopethisisnotaproblemforyou,Julien?”EvenfoggedbypainIcouldheartheirritationintheFrenchman’svoice.“Non,monsieur,”hereplied.Still,hetookagreatpleasureinknockingmylightsout.

THIRTY-TWO

WhenIawokeIwasonthefloorofwhatlookedlikethelowerdeckofagalleon.Alargegalleon,itwas,thekindthatlookedlikeitwasusedtotransport...people.Mylegsweregrippedbyironbilboes—big,immovablemanaclesthatwerescatteredallaroundthedeck,someempty,somenot.

NotfarawayIcouldmakeoutmorebodiesinthegloomofthedeck.Moremenbackthere,ataguessmaybeadozenorso,shackledjustasIwas,butinwhatsortofshapeitwasdifficulttotellfromthelowgroansandmumblingsthatreachedmyears.AttheotherendofthedeckwaspiledwhatItooktobethecaptives’possessions—clothes,boots,hats,leatherbelts,packsandchests.Inamongthem,IthoughtIsawmyrobes,stilldirtyandbloodyfromthefightintheprisoncompound.

Youremembermysayinghowlowerdeckshadtheirownsmell?Well,thisonehadadifferentsmellaltogether.Thesmellofmisery.Thesmelloffear.

Avoicesaid,“Eatitfast,”andawoodenbowllandedwithadullthumpbymybarefeetbeforetheblack-leatherbootsofaguardretreated.Isawsunlightfromahatchandheardtheclip-clopofaladderbeingclimbed.

Insidethebowlsatadryflourbiscuitandasplodgeofoatmeal.Notfarawaysatablackman,and,likeme,hewaseyeingthefooddubiously.

“Youhungry?”Iaskedhim.Hesaidnothing,madenomovetoreachforthefood.Insteadhereachedto

themanaclesathisfeetandbegantoworkatthem,onhisfaceanexpressionofprofoundconcentration.

AtfirstIthoughthewaswastinghistime,butashisfingersworked,slidingbetweenhisfeetandtheirons,hiseyeswenttome.Thoughhesaidnothing,IthoughtIsawinthemtheghostofpainfulexperience.Hishandswenttohismouthandforamomenthelookedlikeacatcleaningitself,untilthesamehanddippedintotheoatmeal,mixingthegooinsidewithsalivaandthenusingittolubricatehisfootinthemanacle.

ThenIknewwhathewasdoingandcouldonlywatchinadmirationandhopeashecontinuedtodoit,greasingthefootmoreandmoreuntilitwasslipperyenoughto...Try.Helookedatme,silencedanyencouragementbeforeitevenleftmylips,

thentwistedandpulledatthesametime.Hewouldhaveyelledinpainifhewasn’tconcentratingonkeepingsoquiet,

andhisfoot,whenitcamefreeoftheleg-iron,wascoveredinarevoltingmixtureofbloodandspitandoatmeal.Butitwasfreeandneitherofuswantedtoeattheoatmealanyway.

Heglancedbackupthedecktowardstheladderandbothofussteeledourselvesagainsttheappearanceofaguard,thenhebeganworkingattheotherfootandwassoonfree.Crouchedonthewoodwithhisheadcocked,helistenedasfootstepsfromaboveusseemedtomovetowardsthehatch,then,thankfully,movedawayagain.

TherewasamomentinwhichIwonderedifhemightsimplyleavemethere.Afterall,wewerestrangers,heowedmenothing.Whyshouldhewastetimeandendangerhisownbidforfreedombyhelpingme?

ButI’dbeenabouttolethimeattheoatmealandapparentlythatcountedforsomething,becauseinthenextinstant,afteramoment’shesitation—perhapshewonderedhimselfaboutthewisdomofhelpingme—hescrambledovertowardsme,checkedtheshackles,thenhurriedovertoanunseensectionofthedeckbehindme,returningwithkeys.

HisnamewasAdewaléhetoldmeasheopenedtheshackles.Ithankedhimquietly,rubbingmyanklesandwhispering,“Now,what’syourplan,mate?”

“Stealaship,”hesaidsimply.Ilikedthesoundofthat.First,though,Iretrievedmyrobesandhiddenblade

andaddedapairofleatherbracesandaleatherjackettomyensemble.MeanwhilemynewfriendAdewaléwasusingthekeystoreleasethe

prisoners.Isnatchedanothersetfromanailonthewallandjoinedhim.“There’sacatchtothisfavour,”ItoldthefirstmanIcameto,asmyfingers

workedthekeyinhisrestraints.“You’resailingwithme.”“I’dfollowyoutohellforthis,mate...”Nowthereweremoremenstandingonthedeckandfreeofshacklesthan

therewerestillrestrained,andperhapsthoseabovehadheardsomething,becausesuddenlythehatchwasflungopenandthefirstoftheguardsthundereddownthestepswithhissworddrawn.

“Hey,”hesaid,but“hey”turnedouttobehisfinalword.I’dalreadyfittedmy

hiddenblade(andhadamoment’sreflectionthatthoughIhadonlybeenwearingitforsuchashortspaceoftime,itstillfeltsomehowfamiliartome,asthoughIhadbeenwearingitforyears)andwithaflickofmyforearmengagedtheblade,thensteppedforwardandintroducedthebladetotheguard,drivingitdeepintohissternum.

Itwasn’texactlystealthyorsubtle.IstabbedhimsohardthatthebladepuncturedhisbackandpinnedhimtothestepsuntilIwrenchedhimfree.NowIsawthebootsofasecondsoldierandthetipofhisswordasreinforcementsarrived.Back-handed,Islicedthebladejustbelowhiskneesandhescreamedandtoppled,losinghisswordandhisbalance,oneofhislowerlegscuttotheboneandpumpingbloodtothedeckashejoinedhismateonthewood.

Bynowitwasafull-scalemutiny,andthefreedmenrantothepilesofconfiscatedgoodsandreclaimedtheirowngear,armingthemselveswithcutlassesandpistols,pullingbootson.Isawsquabblesbreakingout—already!—overwhoseitemswerewhose,buttherewasnotimetoplayarbitrator.Acliparoundtheearwaswhatittookandournewteamwasreadytogointoaction.AboveusweheardthesoundsofrushingfeetandpanickedshoutinginSpanishastheguardspreparedthemselvesfortheuprising.

JustthentheshipwassuddenlyrockedbywhatIknewwasagustofwind.AcrossthedeckIcaughtAdewalé’seyeandhemouthedsomethingtome.Oneword:“Hurricane.”

Againitwasasthoughtheshiphadbeenrammedasasecondgustofwindhitus.Nowtimewasagainstusandthebattleneededtobewonfast.Wehadtotakeourownship,becausethesewinds,furiousastheywere,werenothing—nothing—comparedtotheforceofafull-scalehurricane.

Youcouldtimeitsarrivalbycountingthedelaybetweenthefirstgusts.Youcouldseethedirectionthehurricanewascomingfrom.Andifyouwereanexperiencedseaman,whichIwasbynow,thenyoucouldusethehurricanetoyouradvantage.Soaslongaswesetsailsoon,wecouldoutrunanypursuers.Yes,thatwasit.Theterrorofthehurricanehadbeenreplacedbythenotion

thatwecouldmakeitworkinourfavour.Usethehurricane,outruntheSpanish.AfewwordsinAdewalé’searandmynewfriendnoddedandbegantospreadnewsoftheplanamongtherestofthemen.

Theywouldbeexpectinganuncoordinated,haphazardattackthroughthemainhatchofthequarter-deck.Solet’smakethempayforunderestimatingus.Directingsomeofthementostaynearthefootofthestepsandmakethe

noiseofmenpreparingtoattack,Iledtheresttothestern,wherewebrokethroughintothesickbay,thenstealthilyclimbedstepstothegalley.

Inthenextinstantwepouredoutontothemaindeck,andsureenoughtheSpanishsoldiersstoodunawares,theirbacksturnedandtheirmusketstrainedonthequarter-deckhatch.

Theywerecarelessidiotswhohadnotonlyturnedtheirbacksonusbutbroughtmusketstoasword-fight,andtheypaidforitwithsteelintheirgutsandacrosstheirthroats.Foramomentthequarter-deckwasabattlefieldasweruthlesslypressedhometheadvantageoursurpriseattackgaveus,untilatourfeetlaydeadordyingSpaniards,whilethelastofthemthrewthemselvesoverboardinpanic,andwestoodandcaughtourbreath.

Thoughthesailswerefurled,theshiprockedasitwaspunchedbyanothergustofwind.Thehurricanewouldbeuponusanyminute.Fromothershipsalongtheharbourbelongingtothetreasurefleet,wesawsoldiershandingoutpikesandmusketsastheybegantopreparethemselvesforourattack.

WeneededafastershipandAdewaléhadhiseyeonone,alreadyleadingagroupofourmenacrossthegang-boardandtothequay.Soldiersontheharbourdiedbytheirblades.Therewasacrackofmusketsandsomeofourmenfell,butalreadywewererushingthenextgalleonbesideus,abeautiful-lookingship—theshipIwassoontomakemyown.

Thenwewereuponit,justastheskydarkened,asuitablebackdropforthebattleandaterrifyingauguryofwhatwastocome.

Windwhippedatus,growingstronger,hammeringusinrepeatedgusts.YoucouldseetheSpanishsoldierswereindisarray,asterrifiedoftheapproachingstormastheywereoftheescapedprisoners,unabletoavoidtheonslaughtofeither.

Thebattlewasbloodyandvicious,butoverquicklyandthegalleonwasours.ForamomentIwonderedifAdewaléwouldwanttoassumecommand;indeedhehadeveryrighttodoso—thismanhadnotonlysetmefreebutledthechargethathelpedwinustheboat.Ifhediddecidetocaptainhisownship,Iwouldhavetorespectthat,findmyowncommandandgomyownway.

Butno.Adewaléwantedtosailwithmeasmyquartermaster.Iwasmorethangrateful.Notonlythathewaswillingtoservewithme,but

thathechosenottotakehisskillselsewhere.InAdewaléIhadaloyalquartermaster,amanwhowouldneverriseupagainstmeinmutiny,providedIwasajustandfaircaptain.

Iknewthatthen,atthebeginningofourfriendship,justasIknowitnowwith

allthoseyearsofcomradeshipbetweenus.(Ah,butTheObservatory.TheObservatorycamebetweenus.)Wesetsailjustasthemastsunfurledandthefirsttendrilsofthecoming

stormfattenedoursails.Cross-windsbatteredusaswelefttheharbourandIglancedbehindfrommyplaceatthetillertoseetheremainingshipsofthetreasurefleetbeingassaultedbywindandrain.Atfirsttheirmastsswungcrazilyfromsidetosidelikeuncontrolledpendulums,thentheywereclashingasthestormhit.Withoutreadysailstheyweresittingducksanditgladdenedmyhearttoseethemknockedintomatchwoodbythearrivinghurricane.

Theairseemedtogrowcolderandcolderaroundus.AboveIsawcloudsgathering,scuddingfastacrosstheskyandblockingoutthesun.Nextwewerelashedwithwindandrainandsea-spray.Aroundusthewavesseemedtogrowandgrow,toweringmountainsofwaterwithfoamingpeaks,everyoneofthemabouttodrownus,tossingusfromonehugecanyonofseatoanother.

Thepoultrywerewashedoverboard.Menhungontocabindoors.Iheardscreamsasunluckydeck-handsweresnatchedofftheship.Thegalleyfirewasextinguished.Allhatchesandcabindoorsbatteneddown.Onlythebravestandmostskilfulmendaredscaletherat-linestotryandmanagethecanvas.

TheforemastsnappedandIfearedforthemainmastandmizzen,buttheyheld,thankGod,andIgavesilentpraiseforthisfast,pluckyshipthathadbeenbroughttousbyfate.

Theskywasapatchworkofblackcloudthateverynowandthenpartedtoallowraysofsunshinethrough,asifthesunwerebeingkeptprisonerbehindthem;asthoughtheweatherwastauntingus.Stillwekeptgoing,withthreemenatthetillerandmenhangingontotheriggingasthoughtryingtoflyahuge,abominablekite,desperatelytryingtokeepusaheadofthestorm.Toslowdownwouldbetosurrendertoit.Tosurrendertoitwouldbetodie.

Butwedidn’tdie,notthatday.Behindustherestofthetreasurefleetwassmashedinport,butjusttheoneshipcontainingusfreedprisonersmanagedtoescapeandthemenwehad—askeletoncrew—pledgedtheirallegiancetomeandAdewaléandagreedwithmyproposalthatwesetsailimmediatelyforNassau.Atlast,IwasgoingbacktoNassau,toseeEdwardandBenjamin,andrejointherepublicofpiratesIhadmissedsomuch.

Iwaslookingforwardtoshowingthemmyship.Mynewship.IchristenedittheJackdaw.

THIRTY-THREE

SEPTEMBER1715

“You’venamedyournewbrigafterabird?”AnyothermanandIwouldhavedrawnmypistolorperhapsengagedmy

hiddenbladeandmadehimeathiswords.ButthiswasEdwardThatch.NotBlackbeardyet,ohno.Hehadyettogrowthefacefur,whichwouldgivehimhismorefamousalias,buthestillhadallthatbraggadociothatwasasmuchhistrade-markashisplaitedbeardandthelitfuseshewouldwearinit.

Benjaminwastheretoo.HesatwithEdwardbeneaththesailclothawningsofTheOldAvery,atavernonthehilloverlookingtheharbour,oneofmyveryfavouriteplacesintheworldandmyveryfirstportofcallonenteringNassau—aNassauIwaspleasedtoseehadhardlychanged:thestretchofpurestblueoceanacrosstheharbour,thecapturedshipsthatlitteredtheshores,Englishflagsflyingfromtheirmasts,thepalms,theshantyhouses.ThehugeFortNassautoweredaboveus,itsdeath’s-headflagflappingintheeasterlybreeze.Itellalie.Ithadchanged.Itwasbusierthanithadbeenbefore.Someninehundredmenandwomennowmadeittheirbase,Idiscovered,sevenhundredofthempirates.

EdwardandBenjamin—planningraidsanddrinking,drinkingandplanningraids,sixofone,halfadozenoftheother.

NearbywasanotherpirateIrecognizedasJamesKidd,whosatbyhimself.SomesaidhewasthesonofWilliamKidd.Butfornowmyattentionwenttomyoldmates,whobothrosetogreetme.Here,therewerenoneoftheformalities,theinsistenceonpolitenessanddecorumthatshacklestherestofsociety.No,Iwasgivenafull,properpirategreeting,embracedinhugebear-hugsbyBenjaminandEdward,thepiratescourgesoftheBahamas,butreallysoftoldbears,withgratefultearsintheireyestoseeanoldfriend.

“ByGod,you’reasightforsaltyeyes,”saidBenjamin.“Comeyouinand

haveadrink.”EdwardgaveAdewaléalook.“Ahoy,Kenway.Who’sthis?”“Adewalé,theJackdaw’squartermaster.”ThatwaswhenEdwardmadehiscrackabouttheJackdaw’sname.Neitherof

themhadyetmadementionoftherobesIwore,butperhapsIhadthatpleasuretocome.Certainlytherewasamoment,afterthegreeting,whentheybothgavemelong,hardlooksandIwonderedwhetherthoselookswereasmuchtogawpatmyclothesastoseethechangeinme,becausethefactwasthatIhadbeenbutaboywhenIfirstmetthem,butIhadgrownfromafeckless,arrogantteenager,anerrantson,alove-lornbutunreliablehusbandintosomethingelse—amanscarredandmadehardbybattle,whowasnotquitesocarelesswithhisfeelings,notsoliberalwithhisemotions,acoldmaninmanyrespects,amanwhosetruepassionswereburieddeep.

Perhapstheysawthat,mytwooldfriends.Perhapstheytooknoteofthathardeningofboytoaman.

Iwaslookingformentocrewmyship,Itoldthem.“Well,”saidEdward,“there’sscoresofcapablemenabout,butusecaution.A

shiploadoftheking’ssailorsshowedupafortnightback,causingtroubleandknockingaboutliketheyowntheplace.”

Ididn’tlikethesoundofthat.WasitWoodesRogers’swork?Hadhesentoutanadvanceparty?Orwasthereanotherexplanation?TheTemplars.Lookingforme,maybe?Lookingforsomethingelse?Thestakeswerehighthen.Ishouldknow.I’ddonemorethanmyfairsharetoincreasethem.

Whilerecruitingmoremenformyship,IlearnedalittlemoreaboutthepresenceoftheEnglishintheBahamas.MenthatAdewaléandIspoketotalkedofseeingsoldiersprancingroundintheking’scolours.TheBritishwantedusout;wellofcoursetheydid,wewereathorninHisMajesty’sside,adirtygreatstainontheRedEnsign,butitfeltasthoughtherewas,ifanything,anincreaseinBritishinterest.SoitwasthatwhenInextmetEdward,Benand,joiningus,JamesKiddinTheOldAvery,Iwassuretospeakoutofearshotandextrawaryofunfamiliarfaces.

“HaveyoueverheardofaplacecalledTheObservatory?”Iaskedthem.I’dbeenthinkingaboutitalot.AtitsmentiontherewasaflickerinJames

Kidd’seyes.Ishothimaglance.Hewasyoung—aboutnineteenortwentyyearsold,I’dsay,soabityoungerthanIwas,and,justlikeme,abitofahothead.SoasThatchandHornigoldshooktheirheads,itwashewhospokeup.

“Aye,”hesaid.“I’veheardofTheObservatory.Anoldlegend,likeEldorado

orTheFountainofYouth.”Iusheredthemtothetablewhere,withalookleftandrighttoseeifanyof

theking’sspieswereinresidence,IsmoothedoutthepicturepurloinedfromTorres’smansionandplaceditonthetable.Abitdog-earedbutstill—thereinfrontofuswasanimageofTheObservatoryandallthreemenlookedatit,somewithmoreinterestthanothersandsomewhopretendedtheywerelessinterestedthantheyreallywere.

“Whathaveyouheard?”IaskedJames.“Itismeanttobeatempleoratomb.Hidingatreasureofsomekind.”“Ah,rocks,”bellowedEdward.“It’sfairystoriesyouprefertogold,isit?”Thatch—he’dhavenopartintryingtofindTheObservatory.Iknewthat

fromthestart.Hell,I’dknownthatbeforeIevenopenedmymouth.Hewantedtreasurehecouldweigh,onscales;chestsfilledwithpiecesofeight,rustedwiththebloodoftheirpreviousowners.

“It’sworthmorethangold,Thatch.TenthousandtimesabovewhatwecouldpulloffanySpanishship.”

Benwaslookingdoubtfultoo—asamatteroffact,theonlyearIseemedtohavebelongedtoJamesKidd.

“Robbingthekingtopayhispaupersishowweearnourkeephere,lad,”saidBenwithanadmonishingtone.Hejabbedagrimy,weather-beatenfingeratmystolenpicture.“Thatain’tafortune,it’safantasy.”

“Butthisisaprizethatcouldsetusupforlife.”Mytwooldship-mates,theyweresaltoftheearth,thetwoverybestmenI’d

eversailedwith,butIcursedtheirlackofvision.Theyspokeoftwoorthreescorestosetusupformonths,butIhadinmindaprizethatwouldsetusupforlife!Nottomentionmakingmeagentleman,amanofpropertyandpromise.

“AreyoustilldreamingonthatstrumpetbackinBristol?”jeeredBenwhenImentionedCaroline.“Jaysus,letgo,lad.Nassauistheplacetobe,notEngland.”

ForawhileItriedtoconvincemyselfthatitwastrue,andtheywereright,andthatIshouldsetmysightsonmoretangibletreasures.Duringdaysspentdrinking,planningraids,thencarryingoutthoseraids,drinkingtotheirsuccessandplanningmoreraids,Ihadplentyoftimetoreflectontheironyofitall,howstandingaroundthetablewithmyTemplar“friends”I’dthoughtthemdeludedandsillyandyearnedformypiratemateswiththeirstraighttalkingandfree-thinking.YetthereonNassau,Ifoundmenwhohadclosedtheirminds,despiteappearancestothecontrary,despitewhattheysaid,andeventhesymbolismoftheblackflag,withwhichIwaspresentedoneafternoonwhenthesunbeat

downuponus.“Weflynocoloursoutherebutpraisethelackofthem,”saidEdwardThatch

aswelookedouttowardstheJackdaw,whereAdewaléstoodbytheflagpole.“SolettheBlackFlagsignalnothingbutyourallegiancetoman’snaturalfreedoms.Thisoneisyours.Flyitproud.”

TheflagflappedgentlyinthewindandIwasproud—Iwasproud.Iwasproudofwhatitrepresentedandofmypartinit.Ihadhelpedbuildsomethingworthwhile,struckablowforfreedom—truefreedom.Andyet,therewasstillaholedeepinmyheart,whereIthoughtofCarolineandofthewrongthathadbeendonetome.Yousee,mysweet,IhadreturnedtoNassauadifferentman.Thosepassionsburieddeep?Iwaswaitingforthedaytoactuponthem.

•••

Inthemeantimetherewereotherthingstothinkabout,specificallythethreattoourwayoflife.Onenightfoundussittingaroundacampfireonthebeach,ourshipsmooredoffshore,theBenjaminandtheJackdaw.

“Here’stoapiraterepublic,lads,”saidThatch.“Weareprosperousandfree,andoutofthereachofking’sclergyanddebtcollectors.”

“NearsevenhundredmennowpledgetheirallegiancetothebrethrenofthecoastinNassau.Notabadnumber,”saidJamesKidd.HecastmeabriefsidewaysglanceIpretendednottonotice.

“True,”burpedThatch,“yetwelacksturdydefences.Ifthekingweretoattackthetown,he’dtrampleus.”

Igraspedthebottleofrumhehandedtome,heldituptothemoonlighttoexamineitforbitsoffloatingsediment,then,satisfied,tookaswig.

“ThenletusfindTheObservatory,”Ioffered.“IfitdoeswhattheseTemplarsclaim,we’llbeunbeatable.”

Thatchsighedandreachedforthebottle.They’dheardthisfrommealot.“Notthattwaddleagain,Kenway.That’sastoryforschoolboys.Imeanproperdefences.Stealagalleon,shiftallthegunstooneside.Itwouldmakeaniceornamentforoneofourharbours.”

NowAdewaléspokeup.“ItwillnotbeeasytostealafullSpanishgalleon.”Hisvoicewasslow,clear,thoughtful.“Haveyouoneinmind?”

“Ido,sir,”retortedThatchdrunkenly.“I’llshowyou.She’safussock,sheis.Fatandslow.”

WhichwashowwecametobelaunchinganattackontheSpanishgalleon.

NotthatIknewitthen,ofcourse,butIwasabouttorunintomyoldfriendstheTemplarsagain.

THIRTY-FOUR

MARCH1716

Wesetcoursesouth-eastorthereabouts.Edwardsaidhe’dseenthisparticulargalleonlurkingaroundthelowerreachesoftheBahamas.WetooktheJackdaw,andaswesailedwefoundourselvestalkingtoJamesKiddandquizzinghimonhisparentage.

“ThebastardsonofthelateWilliamKidd,eh?”EdThatchwasmostamusedtorelate.“Isthatatrueyarnyoulikespinning?”

Thethreeofusstoodonthepoop-deckandsharedaspyglasslikeitwasablack-jackofrum,tradingitinordertopeerthroughawallofearly-eveningfogsothickitwasliketryingtostarethroughmilk.

“Somymothertoldme,”repliedKiddprimly.I’mtheresultofanightofpassionjustbeforeWilliamleftLondon...”

Itwasdifficulttotellfromhisvoiceifhewasvexedbythequestion.Hewasdifferentlikethat.EdwardThatch,forexample,worehisheartonhissleeve.He’dbeangryonesecond,heartythenext.Didn’tmatterwhetherhewasthrowingpunchesordolingoutdrunken,rib-crushingbear-hugs,youknewwhatyouweregettingwithEdward.

Kiddwasdifferent.Whatevercardshewasholding,hekeptthemclosetohischest.Irememberedaconversationwe’dhadawhileback.“DidyoustealthatcostumefromadandyinHavana?”he’daskedme.

“No,sir,”Ireplied.“Foundthisonacorpse...onethatwaswalkingaboutandtalkingshitetomyfaceonlymomentsbefore.”

“Ah...”he’dsaid,andalookhadcrossedhisface,impossibletodecipher...

Still,therewasnohidinghisenthusiasmwhenwefinallysawthegalleonwewerelookingfor.

“Thatship’samonster,lookatthesizeofher,”saidKiddasEdwardpreenedhimselfasthoughtosay,Itoldyouso.

“Aye,”hewarned,“andwecannotlastlongface-to-facewithher.Youhearthat,Kenway?Keepyourdistance,andwe’llstrikewhenfortunefavoursus.”

“Undercoverofdarkness,mostlikely,”Isaidwithmyeyetothespyglass.Thatchwasright.Shewasabeauty.Afineornamentforourharbourindeed,andanimposinglineofdefenceinitsownright.

WeletthegalleondrawawaytowardsadisruptionofhorizoninthedistancethatItooktobeanisland.InaguaIsland,ifmymemoryofthechartswascorrect,whereacoveprovidedtheperfectplaceforourvesselstomoor,andtheabundantplantandanimallifemadeitidealforre-stockingsupplies.

Thatchconfirmedit.“Iknowtheplace.AnaturalstrongholdusedbyaFrenchcaptainnamedDuCasse.”“JulienDuCasse?”Isaid,unabletokeepthesurpriseoutofmyvoice.“The

Templar?”“Name’sright,”repliedEdward,distracted.“Ididn’tknowhehadatitle.”GrimlyIsaid,“Iknowthemanandifheseesmyship,he’llknowitfromhis

timeinHavana.Meaninghemaywonderwho’ssailinghernow.Ican’triskthat.”

“Idon’twanttolosethatgalleon,”saidEdward.“Let’sthinkonitandmaybewaittillit’sdarkerbeforehoppingaboard.”

•••

Later,Itooktheopportunitytoaddressthemen,climbingtheriggingandgazingdownuponthemgatheredonthemaindeck,EdwardThatchandJamesKiddamongthem.Iwondered,asIhungthereforamoment,waitingforsilencetofall,whetherThatchlookedatandfeltproudofhisyoungprotégé,amanhehadmentoredinthewaysofpiracy.Ihopedso.

“Gentlemen!Asiscustomamongourkind,wedonotplungeheadlongintofollyontheordersofasinglemadman,butactaccordingtoourowncollectivemadness!”

Theyroaredwithlaughter.“Theobjectofourattentionisasquare-riggedgalleon,andwewantherfor

theadvantageshe’llbringNassau.SoI’llputittothevote...Allthoseinfavourofstormingthiscoveandtakingtheship,stompandshoutAye!”

Themenroaredtheirapproval,notasinglevoiceofdissentamongthemand

itgladdenedthehearttohearit.“Andthosewhooppose,whimperNay!”Therewasnotanaytobeheard.“NeverwastheKing’sCouncilthisunified!”Iroaredandmencheered.I

lookeddownatJamesKidd,andespeciallyatEdwardThatch,andtheybeamedtheirapproval.

Shortlyafter,aswesailedintothecove,Ihadathought:IneededtobesurethatJulienDuCassewastakencareof.IfhesawtheJackdaw,andmoretothepoint,ifhesawmeandescaped,hecouldtellhisTemplarconfederateswhereIwas,andIdidn’twantthat.NotifIstillheldouthopeoflocatingTheObservatory,which,despitewhatmypalsweresaying,Istilldid.Igavethemattersomethought,mullingoverthevariouspossibilities,andintheenddecidedtodowhathadtobedone:Ijumpedoverboard.

Well,notstraightaway,Ididn’t.FirstItoldThatchandJamesofmyplansandthen,whenmyfriendshadbeentoldthatIplannedtogoonaheadandsurpriseDuCassebeforethemainattackstarted,Ijumpedoverboard.

Iswamtoshore,whereImovedlikeawraithinthenight,thinkingofDuncanWalpoleasIdidit,mindgoingbacktotheeveningI’dbrokenintoTorres’smansionanddearlyhopingthattonightdidn’tturnoutthesameway.

IpassedclustersofDuCasse’sguards,mylimitedSpanishpickingupsnippetsofconversationastheymoanedabouthavingtohuntdownsuppliesfortheboat.NightwasfallingbythetimeIcametoanencampmentandcrouchedintheundergrowth,whereIlistenedtoconversationfromwithinthecanvasofalean-to.OnevoiceinparticularIrecognized:JulienDuCasse.

IalreadyknewthatDuCassekeptamanorhouseontheisland,wherehenodoubtlikedtorelaxafterreturningfromhisexpeditionsouttocontroltheworld.Thefactthathewasn’treturningthereatthattimemeantthatthiswasbutafleetingvisittocollectsupplies.

Now,justoneproblem.Insidethelean-tomyformerTemplarassociatewassurroundedbyguards.Theyweretruculentguards,whowerehackedoffathavingtocollectstocksfortheship,nottomentionfeelingthesharpedgeofJulienDuCasse’stongue.Buttheywereguardsallthesame.Ilookedaroundattheencampment.Ontheoppositesidewasafire,whichhadburneddownalmosttotheembers.Closetomewerecratesandbarrels,andlookingfromthemtothefireIcouldseethattheyhadbeenplacedtheredeliberately.Sureenough,whenIcrabbedoverandhadabetterlook,whatIsawwerekegsofgunpowder.Ireachedbehindmyneck,whereI’dstowedmypistoltokeepitdry.Mypowder

waswet,ofcourse,butthenaccesstopowderwasnolongeraproblem.Inthemiddleoftheencampmentstoodthreesoldiers.Onguard,supposedly,

butinactualfactmumblingsomethingIcouldn’thear.CursingDuCasse,probably.Othertroopswerecomingandgoingandaddingtothepileofsupplies:firewood,mainly,kindling,aswellaswatercasksthatsloppedwithwaterdrawnfromaspringnearby.NotexactlythefeastofwildboarDuCassewashopingfor,I’dwager.

Stayingintheshadows,andwithoneeyeonthemovementofthetroops,Icreptclosetothekegsandgougedaholeinthebottomone,bigenoughtofillmyhandsandcreatealittletrailofgunpowderthatIbegantoleaveasIcreptaroundtheedgeofthecompounduntilIwasasclosetothefireasIdared.MylineofgunpowderledinahalfcirclefromwhereIcrouchedbacktothekegsofgunpowder.Attheothersideofthatcirclewasthelean-towhereJulienDuCassesat,drinkinganddreamingofgrandTemplarplanstotakeovertheworld—andshoutingabuseathisrecalcitrantmen.

Right.Ihadfire.Ihadatrailofgunpowderleadingfromthefirethroughtheundergrowthandtothekegs.IhadmenwaitingtobeblownupandIhadJulienDuCasseawaitingourmomentofreckoning.NowallIneededtodowastimethingssothatnoneoftheboorishtroopswouldseemymakeshiftfusebeforeitcoulddetonatethepowder.

Crouching,Imovedtothefire,thenflickedaglowingemberontothetailofthegunpowderfuse.Isteeledmyselfatthesounditmade—itseemedsoloudinthenight—andthankedGodthesoldiersweremakingsomuchnoise.Asthefusefizzedawayfromme,IhopedIhadn’tinadvertentlybrokenthelineofthefuse;hopedIhadn’taccidentallytrickledthegunpowderintoanythingwet;hopednoneofthesoldierswouldarrivebackjustattheveryinstantthat...

Then,onedid.Hecarriedabowlfulofsomething.Fruit,perhaps.Buteitherthesmellorthenoisealertedhimandhestoppedattheedgeoftheclearingandlookeddownathisbootsjustasthesizzle-burnofthegunpowdertrailranpasthisfeet.

HelookedupandhismouthformedanOtoshoutforhelpasIsnatchedadaggeroutofmybelt,pulledmyarmbackandthrewit.ThankGodforthosewastedafternoonsdefacingtreesbackhomeatBristol.ThankGod,astheknifehithimsomewherejustabovethecollar-bone—notanespeciallyaccurateshot,butitdidthejob—sothatinsteadofshoutingthealarmhemadeamuted,strangulatedsoundandslumpedforwardtohiskneeswithhishandsscrabblingathisneck.

Themenintheclearingheardthenoiseofhisbodyfalling,hisbowltumbling,thefruitrolling,andturnedtoseeitssource.Allofasuddentheywerealertbutitdidn’tmatterbecauseevenastheypulledtheirmusketsfromtheirshoulders,andashoutwentup,theyhadnoideawhathitthem.

I’dturnedmyback,putmyhandsovermyearsandcurledupintoaballastheexplosiontoreacrosstheclearing.Somethinghitmyback.Somethingsoftandwet,thatIdidn’tparticularlywanttothinkabout.FromfurtherawayIheardshoutsandknewtherewouldbemoremenarrivingatanymoment,soIturnedandranintotheclearing,pastblown-upbodiesofsoldiersinvariousstatesofmutilationanddismemberment,mostofthemdead,oneofthempleadingfordeath,andthroughthickblacksmokethatfilledtheclearing,embersfloatingintheair.

DuCasseemergedfromthetent,swearinginFrench,shoutingforsomeone,anyone,toputoutthefire.Coughing,spluttering,hewavedhishandinfrontofhisfacetoclearsmokeandchokingparticlesofflamingsootandpeeredintothefog.

Andhesawmestandinginfrontofhim.Iknowthatherecognizedmebecause“you”wastheonlywordhesaid

beforeIdrovemybladeintohim.Mybladehadn’tmadeasound.“Yourememberthegiftyougaveme?”Theblademadeaslightsuckingnoise

asIpulleditfromhischest.“Wellitanswersjustfine.”“Yousonofawhore,”hecoughed,andbloodspeckledhisface.Aroundus

rainedtheflamingsootlikesatanicsnow.“Asboldasamusketball,andstillhalfassharp,”hemanagedasthelife

drainedfromhim.“I’msorryaboutthis,mate.ButIcan’triskyourtellingyourTemplarfriends

aboutmestillkickingaround.”“Ipityyou,buccaneer.Afterallyouhaveseen,afterallweshowedyouof

ourOrder,stillyouembracethelifeofanignorantandaimlessrogue.”AroundhisneckIsawsomethingIhadn’tseenbefore.Akeyonachain.I

yankeditanditcameawayeasilyinmyfingers.“Ispettylarcenytheextentofyourambition,”hemocked.“Haveyouno

mindtocomprehendthescopeofours?Alltheempiresonearth,abolished!Afreeandopenedworld,withoutparasiteslikeyou.”

Heclosedhiseyes,dying.Hislastwordswere,“Maythehellyoufindbeofyourownmaking.”

BehindmeIheardmencomeintotheclearingandknewitwastimetoleave.InthedistanceIcouldhearmoreshoutsandthesoundsofbattleandknewthatmyship-mateshadarrivedandthatthecoveandgalleonwouldsoonbeoursandthenight’sworkover.AsIdisappearedintotheundergrowthIthoughtaboutDuCasse’sfinalwords:Maythehellyoufindbeofyourownmaking.

Wewouldseeaboutthat,Ithought.Wewouldsee.

PARTIII

THIRTY-FIVE

MAY1716

Itwastwomonthslater,andIwasinTulumofftheeasterncoastoftheYucatánPeninsula.Myreasonforbeingthere?Theever-mysteriousJamesKiddandwhathehadshowedmeonInaguaIsland.

Hehadbeenwaiting,Inowrealize.Waitingforhismomenttogetmealone.AfterthedeathofDuCasse,thetheftofhisgalleonandthe...well,let’sjustsay“removal”oftherestoftheFrenchman’smen,anoperationthatboileddowntoeither“joinusandbecomeapirate,”or“enjoyyourswim,”ThatchhadsailedforNassauwiththeSpanishgalleon,takingmostofthemenwithhim.

Myself,AdewaléandKiddhadremainedbehindwithsomevagueideaofhowwemightutilizethecove.WhatIhadinmind,ofcourse,wasusingthecovebyrelaxingonitsbeachesanddrinkinguntilthesuppliesofrumrandry,thenreturningtoNassau.Oh,youconstructedthefortifiedharbourwithoutme.WhatashameImissedtheopportunitytohelp.Somethinglikethat.

WhatKiddhadinmind—well,whocouldtell?Atleastuntilheapproachedmethatday,toldmehehadsomethingtoshowmeandledmetotheMayanstones.

“Odd-lookingthings,aren’tthey?”hesaid.Fromadistancethey’dlookedlikeacollectionofrubble,butupclosewere

actuallyacarefullyarrangedformationofstrangelycarvedblocks.“IsthiswhattheycallMayan?”Iaskedhim,staringattherockclosely.“Oris

itAztec?”Helookedatme.Heworethatsamepenetrating,quizzicallookhealways

seemedtowhenwespoke.ItmademefeeluncomfortableifI’mhonest.WhydidIalwaysgetthefeelinghehadsomethingtosay,somethingtotellme?Thosecardsheheldclosetohischest,thereweretimesIwantedtowrenchhis

handsawayandlookatthemformyself.Someinstinct,though,hadtoldmethatI’dfindoutingoodtime.That

instinctwouldbeprovedright.“Areyougoodwithriddles,Edward?”heaskedme.“Puzzlesandponderings

andthelike?”“I’mnoworsethanthenextman,”Isaidcarefully.“Why?”“Ithinkyouhaveanaturalgiftforit.I’vesenseditforsometime,intheway

youworkandthink.Thewayyouunderstandtheworld.”Nowweweregettingtoit.“I’mnotsosureaboutthat.You’retalkingin

riddlesnow,andIdon’tunderstandaword.”Henodded.Whateverhehadtotellme,itwasn’tgoingtoappearallatonce.

“Clamberontopofthisthinghere,willyou?Helpmesolvesomething.”Togetherwescrambledtothetopoftherocks,wherewecrouched.When

JamesputahandtomylegIlookeddownatit,justastanned,weatheredandwornasthatofanypirate,withthesamelatticeworkoftinycutsandscarsearnedatsea.Butsmaller,thefingersslightlytapered,andIwonderedwhatitwasdoingthere.If...Butno.Surelynot.

Nowhewasspeaking,andhesoundedmoreseriousthanbefore,likeaholymanincontemplation.

“Concentrateandfocusallyoursenses.Lookpastshadowandsound,deepintomatter,untilyouseeandhearakindofshimmering.”Whatwashegoingonabout?Hishandgrippedmylegharder.Heurgedme

toconcentrate,tofocus.Hisgrip,infact,hiswholemanner,brookednodisbelief,banishingmyreluctance,myresistance...

ThenIsawit.No,Ididn’tseeit.HowcanIexplainthis?Ifeltit—feltitwithmyeyes.

“Shimmering,”Isaidquietly.Itwasintheairaroundme—allaroundme—amorevividversionofsomethingIhadexperiencedbefore,sittinginthefarmyardathomeinHatherton,lateatnightwhen,inadream,mymindroamingfree,itwasasiftheworldhadsuddenlybecomethatbitbrighterandmoreclear.Ihadbeenabletohearthingswithextraclarity,seethingsaheadIhadn’tbeenabletoseebefore,andherewasthefunnything:asthoughtherewascontainedwithinmeahugebank,ahugevaultofknowledgeawaitingmyaccess,andallIneededtoopenitwasthekey.

Thatwasit,sittingthere,withKidd’shandgrippingmyleg.ItwasasthoughIhadfoundthekey.IknewwhyI’dfeltdifferentallthoseyearsago.

“Youunderstand?”hissedKidd.“Ithinkso.I’veseenitslikebefore.Glowing,likemoonlightontheocean.

It’slikeusingeverysenseatoncetoseesoundsandhearshapes.Quiteacombination.”

“EverymanandwomanonEarthhasinthemakindofintuitionhiddenaway,”KiddwassayingasIgazedaboutmyself,likeamansuddenlytransportedtoanotherworld.Ablindmanwhocouldsuddenlysee.

“I’vehadthissensemostofmylife,”Itoldhim,“onlyIthoughtitrelatedinsomewaytomydreaming,orthelike.”

“Mostneverfindit,”saidKidd.“Othersittakesyearstoteaseout.Butforararefewitcomesasnaturalasbreathing.Whatyoufeelisthelightoflife.Oflivingthingspastandpresent.Theresidueofvitalitycomeandgone.Practice.Intuition.Anyman’ssensescanbetunedwellpastwhatheisbornwith.Ifhetries.”

Afterthat,we’dparted,witharrangementstomeetinTulum,whichiswhyIfoundmyselfstandinginthebakingheattryingtotalktoanativewomanwhostoodbywhatlookedlikeapigeoncoopandsquintedupatmewhenIarrived.

“Youkeepthesethingsaspets?”Iasked.“Messengers,”sherepliedinfalteringEnglish.“Thisishowwecommunicate

betweentheseislands.Howweshareinformation...Andcontracts.”“Contracts?”Iasked,thinking,Assassins.Assassins’contracts?ShetoldmeKiddwaswaitingformeatatempleandImovedon.Howdid

sheknow?Andwhy,asIwalked,didIgetthefeelingthattheywereawaitingmyarrival?Why,asIpassedthroughavillagemadeupmainlyoflowhuts,didIfeelasthoughthevillagerswerealltalkingaboutme,gapingblanklyatmewhenIlookedtheirway?Someworecolourfulflowingrobesandjewellery,andcarriedspearsandsticks.Somehadbarechestsandworebreech-clouts,weredaubedwithmarkingsandworestrangeadornments,braceletsmadeofsilverandgoldandbeadednecklaceswithbonesforpendants.

Iwonderediftheywerelikethepeoplefrommyworld,boundbynotionsofrankandsocialclass.JustasbackinEnglandahigh-classgentlemanmightberecognizedbythecutofhisclothesandqualityofhiswalkingcane,herethoseatthetopofthescalesimplyworefinerrobes,moreornatejewelleryandhadmoreintricatedaubing.

PerhapsNassaureallywastheonlyplacethatwastrulyfree.OrperhapsIwasfoolingmyselfaboutthat.

Itwasasifthejunglefellaway,andrisinghigh,highabovemeinapyramid

shapewasavasttieredMayantemple,hugeflightsofstepsrisingthroughthecentreofthelayersofstone.

Standinggulpingintheundergrowth,Inoticedthefreshlycutbranchesandstemsaroundme.ApathhadbeenrecentlyclearedandIfollowedituntilIreachedadoorwayinthefootofthetemple.Inthere?Yes.Inthere.IfeltalongthesidesofthestonedoorandwitheffortdraggeditacrossuntilI

wasabletosqueezeinside,intowhatlookedlikeanentrancechamber,butnotasdarkasI’dexpected.Asthoughsomebodyhadalreadylit...

“CaptainKenway,”saidavoicefromtheshadows.ItwasavoiceIdidn’trecognize,andinthenextinstantmypistolwasdrawnasIspanandpeeredintothedark.Mynewenemieshadtheadvantageofsurprise,though,andthepistolwasknockedfrommyhandatthesamemomentasIwasgrabbedandpinnedfrombehind.Theflickeringtorchlightlithooded,shadowyfiguresholdingmeinplace,whileinfrontofmetwomenhadappearedfromwithintheshadows.OneofthemwasJamesKidd.Theotheranative,hoodedliketheothers,hisfaceindistinctintheshadows.ForasecondhesimplystoodandstaredatmeuntilIstoppedstrugglingandcursingJamesKidd,andhadcalmeddown,thenhesaid,“WhereistheAssassinDuncanWalpole?”

IthrewaglanceatKidd.Withhiseyesheassuredmeeverythingwasallright,thatIwasinnodanger.WhyItrustedhim,Ididn’tknow.He’dtrickedmeintothismeeting,afterall.ButIrelaxed,nevertheless.

“Deadandburied,”IsaidofWalpole,andIdidn’tseethenativemaninfrontofmebridlewithangersomuchassenseit.QuicklyIadded,“Afterhetriedtokillme.”

Thenativegaveashort,thoughtfulnod.“Wearenotsorrytoseehimgone.Butitisyouwhocarriedouthisfinalbetrayal.Why?”

“Moneywasmyonlyaim,”Isaidimpudently.Hemovedincloser,givingmeagoodlookathim.Anativeman,hehaddark

hairandpiercing,seriouseyeswithinabrown,linedfaceadornedwithpaint.Hewasalsoveryangry.

“Money?”hesaidtightly.“ShouldIfindcomfortinthat?”“Hehasthesense,mentor,”saidJames,steppingin.Thesense.ThatmuchIunderstood.Butnowthis:mentor.Howwasthis

nativechiefmentortoJames?Mentionofmysenseseemedtocalmthenativechief—themanIwouldlater

cometoknowasAhTabai.

“JamestellsmeyoumettheTemplarsinHavana,”hesaid.“DidyouseethemantheycallTheSage?”

Inodded.“Wouldyourecognizehisfaceifyousawitagain?”askedAhTabai.“Ireckonso,”Isaid.Hethought,thenseemedtoreachadecision.“Imustbecertain,”hesaidquickly,thenheandhismendissolvedintothe

shadows,leavingmealonewithJames,whogavemeasharplookandraisedadon’t-say-a-wordfingerbeforeIcouldremonstratewithhim.

Insteadhetookatorch,grimacingatthedwindling,meagrelightitprovided,thenbenttomoveintoanarrowpassagewaythatwentfurtherintothetemple,gesturingatmetofollow.Theretheceilingwassolowthatwewerealmostbentdoubleaswemadeourwayalong,bothconsciousofwhatmightbelurkingwithinthisthousands-of-years-oldstructure,whatsurprisesmightlieinstore.Wherebeforeinthechamberourwordshadechoed,nowtheyweredeadenedbythewalls—damprockthatseemedtocrowdinonus.

“Youwalkedmeblindandbackwardsintothismess,Kidd!Whothebloodyhellwasthatjesterbackthere?”

Hecalledbackoverhisshoulder,“AhTabai,anAssassin,andmymentor.”“Soyou’reallpartofsomedaffyreligion?”“WeareAssassinsandwefollowacreed.Butitdoesnotcommandustoact

orsubmit,onlytobewise.”Hecameoutofthelowtunnelintoanotherpassageway,butonethatdidat

leastletusstandupright.“Acreed,”Isaidashewalked.“Ohdotell.I’dlovetohearit.”“‘Nothingistrue,everythingispermitted.’Thisistheworld’sonlycertainty.”“‘Everythingispermitted’?Ilikethat—Ilikethesoundofthat.Thinking

whatIlikeandactinghowIplease...”“Youparrotthewords,Edward,butyoudonotunderstandthem.”Igaveashortlaugh.“Don’tgetallhaughtywithme,Kidd.Ifollowedyouas

afriendandyoutrickedme.”“Isavedyourskinbringingyouhere,man.Thesemenwantedyoudeadfor

consortingwithTemplars.Italkedthemoutofit.”“Well,cheersforthat.”“Aye,cheers.”“Soit’syoulotthemTemplarshavebeenchasing,then?”JamesKiddchuckled.“Untilyoucamealongandmuckedthingsup,itwasus

chasingthem.Wehadthemrunningscared.Buttheyhavetheupperhandnow.”Ah...AswekeptwalkingalongpassagewaysIcouldhearthesoundofstoneon

wood.“Issomeoneinherewithus?”“It’spossible.We’retrespassing.”“Someone’swatchingus?”“Idon’tdoubtit.”Wordsdroppedlikeastone,echoingaroundthewallsofthetemple.Had

Kiddbeeninherebefore?Hedidn’tsaybutseemedtoknowhowtooperatedoorsthatwecameto,thenstairwaysandbridges,climbingupandup,untilwereachedthefinaldoor.

“Whatever’swaitingattheendofthispathhadbetterbeworthmytime,”Isaid,irritated.

“That’lldependonyou,”herepliedmysteriously.Nextthingweknew,thestonesbeneathourfeetgavewayandweplungedto

waterbelow.

THIRTY-SIX

Thewaybehindwasblockedbyrubblesoweswamunderwateruntilatlast,justwhenIbegantowonderifIcouldholdmybreathasecondlonger,webrokethewater’ssurfaceandfoundourselvesinapoolatoneendofanotherlargechamber.

Wemovedon,outofthischamberandthroughintothenext,wherewecameuponabustdisplayingaface.AfaceIrecognized.

“Jaysus,”Iexclaimed,“that’shim.TheSage.Butthisthingmustbehundredsofyearsold.”

“Olderstill,”saidKidd.Helookedfrommetothebust.“You’recertainit’shim?”

“Aye,it’stheeyesthatmarkhim.”“DidtheTemplarssaywhytheywantedthisSage?”WithdistasteIremembered.“Theydrewsomeofhisbloodintoalittleglass

cube.”Thecubeyougavethem,Irecalled,butfeltnoguilt.WhyshouldI?“Likethisone?”Kiddwassaying.Inhishandswasanothervial.“Yes.TheymeanttoaskhimaboutTheObservatorytoobutheescaped.”ThevialhaddisappearedbackintothedepthsofKidd’spouch.Heseemedto

considerbeforeturningawayfromthebustofTheSage.“We’vefinishedhere.”Wereturned,findinganewsetofstepsthroughtheTemple’sinnardsuntilwe

wereheadingtowardswhatlookedlikeadoor.AsitslidawayIsawsunlightforthefirsttimeinwhatfeltlikehours,andinthenextmomentwasgulpingdownfreshair,andinsteadofcursingtheheatofthesunasusual,wasthankfulforitaftertheclammycoldofthetemple’sinterior.

AheadKiddhadstoppedandwaslistening.Hethrewalookbackandmotionedmetohushmynoiseandstayoutofsight.Whatwasgoingon,Icouldn’ttell,butIdidasIwastold,thenfollowedhim.Slowlyandquietlywe

inchedforwardtowherewefoundAhTabaicrouchedoutofsightbehindarock—outofsightbecauseinthedistancewecouldheartheunmistakableCockneybrayofEnglishsoldiersatwork.

Behindtheboulderwewaitedinsilence.AhTabaiturnedhispenetratingstareuponme.“Thestatueinthetemple,”hewhispered.“WasthatthemanyousawinHavana?”

“Spittinglikeness,aye,”Iwhisperedback.AhTabaiturnedbacktowatchthesoldiersovertheedgeoftheboulder.“ItseemsanotherSagehasbeenfound,”hesaidtohimself.“TheraceforThe

Observatorybeginsanew.”Wasitwrongofmetofeelathrill?Iwaspartofthisbythen.“Isthatwhywe’rewhispering?”Isaid.“Thisisyourdoing,CaptainKenway,”saidAhTabaiquietly.“Themapsyou

soldtheTemplarshaveledthemstraighttousandnowtheagentsoftwoempiresknowexactlywhereweoperate.”

Kiddwasabouttostepforwardtoengagethesoldiers.NodoubthefeltmorecomfortablehackingdownEnglishsoldiersthannatives,butAhTabaiwasalreadystoppinghim.WithonehandrestrainingKidd,hiseyeswenttome.

“TheyhavetakenEdward’screwaswell,”hesaid.Istarted.Notthecrew.NotAdewaléandmymen.ButAhTabai,withafinalreproachfullookmyway,slippedaway.Behindhimhe’dleftwhatwasunmistakablyablowpipe,whichKiddpickedup.

“Takethis,”hesaid,handingittome.“You’llattractnoattentionandtakefewerlives.”Andashegavemeafewtipsonhowtouseit,Iwondered,Wasthispartofsomenewchallenge?Orwasitsomethingdifferent?WasIbeingtrained?Evaluated?Letthemtry,Ithoughtdarkly.I’mnobody’smanbutmyown.Answerable

onlytomyselfandtomyconscience.Rulesandbaubles?Notforme,thanks.Theycouldstufftheircreedwherethesundon’tshineasfarasIwas

concerned.Besides,whywouldtheyevenwantme?Thissense,perhaps?Myskillinbattle?Doesn’tcomecheap,gentlemen,Ithought,asIcametotheperimeterofa

clearingwheremycrewhadbeendeposited,sittingback-to-backwiththeirhandsbound.Goodlads,theyweregivingtheEnglishsoldiersallkindsofgrief:“Letmeup,tosspot,andfacemelikeasoldier!”

“Ifonlyyouknewwhatwascomingtoyou...Ithinkyou’dpackyourkitsandrun.”

Ifittedthefirstofmydartsintotheblowpipe.Icouldseewhatneededtobedone:takeouttheEnglishsoldiersonebyone,tryandevenupthenumbersalittle.Apoor,unfortunatenativegavemejustthediversionIneeded.Howlingoutrage,hestaggeredtohisfeetandtriedtorun.Withhimwenttheattentionofthesoldiers,gratefulforthesport,gleefullyfittingtheirmusketstotheirshouldersandfiring.Crack.Crack.Likesnappingbranchesintheforest.Therewaslaughterashecrasheddowninahazeofcrimson,buttheydidn’tnoticethatoneoftheirnumberfoldedsilentlyintotheundergrowthtoo,hishandclutchingattheblowpipedartprotrudingfromhisneck.

AstheguardsreturnedtotheclearingIcrossedthepathbehindthemandatthesametimespataseconddartatthesoldierbringinguptherear.Ispanonmyheelandcaughthimashefell,andasIdraggedhisbodyintothebush,IthankedGodformyrowdymen.Theyhadnoideaofmypresencebutcouldn’thavebeenmorehelpfulifI’dprimedthem.

Asoldierswungaround.“Hey,”hesaid,hisfriendnowheretobeseen.“Where’sThompson?”

HiddenintheundergrowthmyfingersfittedthenextdartandIraisedthepipetomylips.TookaquickbreathandpuffedoutmycheeksjustasKiddhadshownme.Thedartpiercedhimbelowthejawboneandheprobablythoughthe’dbeenbittenbyamosquito—rightupuntilthesecondhelostconsciousness.

Nowwewereinbusiness.FrommyvantagepointinthebushesIcounted.Threemendead,sixstillalive,andifIcouldtakeoutacouplemorebeforetheremainingguardsworkedouttheywerebeingpickedoff,well,thenIthoughtIcouldtaketherestmyself.Meandmyhiddenblade.

DidthismakemeanAssassin?SinceIwasbehavingandthinkinglikeone?Afterall,hadn’tIpledgedtofighttheTemplarsforHatherton?Myenemy’senemyismyfriend.No.I’mmyownman.Ianswertonoonebutmyself.Nocreedforme.I’d

hadyearsofwantingtobefreeofconventionandIwasn’tabouttogiveallthatup.

Bythenthesoldierswerelookingaroundthemselves.They’dbeguntowonderwheretheircomradeswere.IrealizedIdidn’thavetheluxuryofpickinganotheroneoff.Ihadtotakethemalloutmyself.

Sixagainstone.ButIhadtheadvantageofsurprise,andasIleaptfromwithintheundergrowthImadeitmyfirstorderofbusinesstoswipemybladeacrosstheropesthatboundAdewalé.Behindmehescrambledtofindaweaponofhisown.Mybladewasinmyrighthand,mypistolheldinmyleft.Positioned

betweentwomenwithmyarmsoutstraight,Ipulledthetriggerofthepistolandslashedwithmyrighthandatthesametime,bringingmyarmstocrossinfrontofme.Onemandiedwithametalballploughingthroughhischest,theotherwithagapingthroatwound.

Idroppedtheemptypistol,pivoted,snatchedanewpistolfrommybeltanduncrossedmyarmsatthesametime.Twonewtargets,andthistimetheblade’sbackswipeslicedopenaman’schest,whileIshotafourthmaninthemouth.Imetaswordblowwithaparryfromtheblade,asoldierwhocameforwardwithbaredteethgivingmenotimetosnatchmythirdpistol.Foramomentwetradedblows,andhewasbetterthanIhadexpectedbecauseallthewhileIwastedprecioussecondsbestinghim,hiscomradewaslookingalongthebarrelofhismusketatme,readytopullthetrigger.Idroppedtooneknee,jabbedupwardswiththebladeandslicedintotheswordsman’sside.Dirtytrick.Nastytrick.TherewasevensomethingoftheoutragedEnglishsenseofhonourinhis

agonizedyellofanguishandpainashislegsgavewaybeneathhimandhecamethumpingtotheground,hisswordswinginguselesslyandnotenoughtopreventmybladepunchingupunderneathhisjawandthroughtheroofofhismouth.

Adirty,nastytrick.Andastupidone.NowIwasontheground(nevergodowninafight)withmybladewedgedinmyopponent.Asittingduck.Mylefthandscrabbledtofindmythirdpistolbutunlesstheothersoldier’smusketmisfiredbecausethepowderwaswet,Iwasdead.

Ilookedovertohim,sawhimdotheabout-to-fireface.AndabladeappearedfromhischestasAdewaléranhimthrough.Ibreathedasighofreliefashehelpedmeup,knowingI’dbeenclose—this

close—todeath.“Thankyou,Ade.”Hesmiled,wavedmythanksaway,andtogetherourgazewenttothesoldier.

Hisbodyroseandfellwithhislastbreaths,andonehandtwitchedbeforeitwentstill,andwewonderedwhatmighthavebeen.

THIRTY-SEVEN

Notlongafter,themenwerefree,andJamesandIstoodonthebeachonTulum—aTulumonceagaininthehandsofnatives,ratherthansoldiersorslavers—lookingouttosea.Withacursehehandedmehisspyglass.

“Who’soutthere?”Iasked.Ahugegalleycruisedalongthehorizon,gettingmoreandmoredistancewitheachpassingsecond.OnitIcouldjustaboutmakeoutmenondeck,oneinparticularwhoseemedtobeorderingtheothersaround.

“Seethatmangyoldcodger?”hesaid.“He’saDutchslavercalledLaurensPrins.LivingnowlikeakinginJamaica.Bastard’sbeenatargetforyears.Bloodyhell,wenearlyhadhim!”

Kiddwasright.ThisslavetraderhadbeenonlandinTulumbutnowwaswellonhiswaytosafety.Heconsideredhismissionafailure,nodoubt.Butatleasthe’descapedwithhisliberty.

AnotherAssassinnonetoopleasedwasAhTabai,whojoineduswearingafacesoseriousIcouldn’thelpbutlaugh.

“ByGod,youAssassinsareacheerybunch,eh?Allfrownsandfurrowedbrows.”

Heglaredatme.“CaptainKenway.Youhaveremarkableskill.”“Ah,thanks,mate.Itcomesnatural.”Hepursedhislips.“Butyouarechurlishandarrogant,prancingaroundina

uniformthatyouhavenotearned.”“Everythingispermitted.”Ilaughed“Isn’tthatyourmotto?”Thenativemanmighthavebeenoldbuthisbodywassinewyandhemoved

likeamanmuchyounger.Hisfacecouldhavebeencarvedfromwood,andinhiseyeswassomethingtrulydark,somethingbothancientandageless.Ifoundmyselfunnervedashegavemethefullbenefitofhisstare,andforamomentIthoughthemightsaynothing,simplymakemewiltintheheatofhiscontempt.

Untilatlasthebroketheghastlysilence.“IabsolveyouofyourerrorsinHavanaandelsewhere,”hesaid,“butyouarenotwelcomehere.”

Withthat,heleft,andinhiswakeJamesshotmealook.“Sorry,mate,wishitwereotherwise,”hesaid,thenleftmealonetoponder.BloodyAssassins,Ithought.Theywerejustasbadastheotherlot.Theself-

righteoussanctimoniousattitudetheyhad.We’rethis,we’rethat.Likethepriestsbackhomewhousedtowaitoutsidetavernsandcurseyouforbeingasinnerandcalledonyoutorepent.Whowantedyoutofeelbadallthetime.ButtheAssassinsdidn’tburnyourfather’sfarm,didthey?Ithought.Itwas

theTemplarswhodidthat.Andit’stheAssassinswhoshowedyouhowtousethesense.Withasigh,IdecidedIwantedtosmooththingsoverwithKidd.SoIwasn’t

interestedinthepathhewantedmetotake.Butbeingasked,beingconsideredsuitable,therewassomethingtobesaidforthat.

IfoundhimbythesamepigeoncoopwhereI’dmetthenativewomanearlier.Therehestood,tinkeringwithhishiddenblade.

“Cheerybunchofmatesyou’vegot,”Ioffered.Thoughhefrowned,alightinhiseyesbetrayedthefactthathewaspleased

toseeme.Nevertheless,hesaid,“Youdeservescorn,Edward,prancingaboutlikeone

ofus,bringingshametoourcause.”“What’sthat,yourcause?”Hetestedhisblade—inandout,inandout—andthenturnedhiseyesonme.“Tobeblunt...wekillpeople.Templarsandtheirassociates.Folkswho’d

liketocontrolalltheempiresonearth...Claimingtheydoitinthenameofpeaceandorder.”

Yes,I’dheardthatsomewherebefore.ThesepeoplewhowantedjurisdictionofeveryoneonEarth—Ihadbrokenbreadwiththem.

“SoundslikeDuCasse’sdyingwords,”Isaid.“Yousee?It’saboutpowerreally.Aboutlordingitoverpeople.Robbingus

ofliberty.”That—liberty—wassomethingIheldvery,verydearindeed.“HowlonghaveyoubeenoneoftheseAssassins?”Iaskedhim.“Acoupleofyearsnow.ImetAhTabaiinSpanishTownandtherewas

somethingabouthimItrusted,asortofwisdom.”“Isallofthishisidea?Thisclan?”Kiddchuckled.“Ohno,theAssassinsandTemplarshavebeenatwarfor

thousandsofyears,allovertheworld.Thenativesofthisnewworldhadsimilarphilosophiesforaslongasthey’vebeenhere.WhenEuropeansarrived,our

groupsortof...matchedup.Culturesandreligionsandlanguageskeepfolksdivided...Butthere’ssomethingintheAssassin’sCreedthatcrossesallboundaries.Afondnessforlifeandliberty.”

“SoundsabitlikeNassau,don’tit?”“Close.Butnotquite.”IknewwhenwepartedthatI’dnotseenthelastofKidd.

THIRTY-EIGHT

JULY1716

AsthepiratesofNassaufinishedtheirroutofPortoGuarico’sguards,Isteppedintothefort’streasureroomandthesoundofclashingswords,thecrackleofmusketfireandthescreamsofthedyingfadedbehindme.

Ishookbloodfrommybladeandsteppedintothetreasureroom,enjoyingthelookofsurprisemypresencebroughttothefaceofitsonlyoccupant.

ItsonlyoccupantwasgovernorLaureanoTorres.HewasjustasIrememberedhim:spectaclesperchedonhisnose.Neatly

clippedbeardandtwinkling,intelligenteyesthatrecoveredeasilyfromtheshockofseeingme.

Andbehindhim,themoney.JustashadbeenpromisedbyCharlesVane...

•••

Theplanhadbeenhatchedtwodaysago.I’dbeenatTheOldAvery.TherewereothertavernsinNassau,ofcourse,andotherbrothelstoo,andI’dbelyingifIsaidIdidn’tavailmyselfofboth,butitwastoTheOldAverythatIreturned,whereAnneBonnythebarmaidwouldservedrinks(andtherewasnooneprettierwhoeverbenttoabungholewithatankardinherhandthanAnneBonny),whereI’dspentsomanyhappyhoursinappreciationofthatfineposterior,roaringwithlaughterwithEdwardThatchandBenjamin,whereforthehourswespentdrinkingthereitwasasthoughtheworldcouldnottouchusandwhere,sincereturningtoNassaufromTulum,IfoundI’drediscoveredmythirst.

Ohyes.JustlikethoseolddaysbackinBristol,themoredissatisfiedIwas,thethirstierIbecame.NotthatIrealizeditatthetime,ofcourse,notbeingaspronetoputtingtwoandtwotogetherasIshouldhavebeen.No,insteadIjust

dranktoquenchthatthirstandworkupanevenbiggerone,broodingonTheObservatoryandhowitfiguredinmyplanstogetrichandstrikeattheTemplars;broodingonJamesKiddandCaroline.ImusthavelookedasthoughIwasdeepinabrownstudythatparticularday,forthefirstthingthatthepirateknownasCalicoJackRackhamsaidtomewas,“Oi,you,whythelonglook?Areyoufallinginlove?”

Ilookedathimwithblearyeyes.Iwasdrunkenoughtowanttofighthim;toodrunktodoanythingaboutit.Anyway,CalicoJackstoodbythesideofCharlesVane,thetwoofthemhavingjustarrivedonNassau,andtheirreputationprecededthem.ItcameonthelipsofeverypiratewhopassedthroughNassau.CharlesVanewascaptainoftheRanger,andCalicoJackhisquartermaster.JackwasEnglishbuthadbeenbroughtupinCuba,sohehadahintoftheswarthySouthAmericanabouthim.Aswellasthebrightcalicogearthathadgivenhimhisnickname,heworebighoopearringsandaheadscarfthatseemedtoemphasizehislongbrow.Itmightsoundlikethepotcallingthekettleblack,buthedrankconstantly.Hisbreathwasalwaysfoulwithit,hisdarkeyesheavyandsleepywithit.

Vane,meanwhile,wasthesharperofthetwo,inmindandintongue,ifnotinappearance.Hishairwaslongandunkemptandheworeabeardandlookedhaggard.Bothwerearmedwithpistolsonbeltsacrosstheirchests,andcutlasses,andweresmellyfrommonthsatsea.Neitherwasthetypeyou’dhurrytotrust:CalicoJack,asdippyashewastipsy;Vaneonaknife’sedge,likeyouwerealwaysoneslipofthetongueawayfromsuddenviolence,andhewasnotaversetorippingoffhisowncrew,either.

Still,theywerepirates,bothofthem.Ourkind.“You’rewelcometoNassau,gents,”Itoldthem.“Everyoneiswhodoeshis

fairshare.”Now,onethingyou’dhavetosayaboutNassau,specificallyabouttheupkeep

ofNassau,wasthatashousekeeperswemadegoodpirates.Afterall,youhaveenoughofthatwhenyou’reatsea,whenhavingyourship

spickandspanisaquestionofimmediatesurvival.Theydon’tcallitship-shapefornothing.Soondryland,whenit’snotreallyaquestionofsurvival—notimmediatesurvival,anyway—butmorethesortofthingyoufeelyoushoulddo,afewdutieswouldslip.

WhatI’msayingis,theplacewasapit:ourgrandNassauFortcrumbled,greatcracksalongitswalls;ourshantyhouseswerefallingdown;ourstocksandstoreswerebadlykeptandindisarray,andasforourprivies—well,IknowI’ve

notexactlysparedyouthegorydetailsofmylifesofar,butthat’swhereIdrawtheline.

Byfartheworstofitwasthesmell.No,notfromtheprivies,thoughthatwasbadenough,letmetellyou,butthesmellthathungoverthewholeplace,emanatingfromthestacksofrottinganimalhidespirateshadleftontheshore.Whenthewindwasblowingtherightway—ohmydays.

SoyoucanhardlyblameCharlesVanewhenhelookedaroundhimself,andthoughitwasrichcomingfromsomeonewhostanklikeamanwho’dspentthelastmonthatsea,hesaid,“SothisisthenewLibertalia?StinksthesameaseverysquatI’verobbedinthepastyear.”

It’sonethingbeingrudeaboutyourownhovel,it’sadifferentkettleoffishwhensomeoneelsedoesit.Yousuddenlyfeeldefensiveoftheoldplace.Evenso,Iletitride.

“WewasledtobelieveNassauwasaplacewheremendidastheyplease,”snortedCalicoJack.ButbeforeIcouldanswer,salvationarrivedintheformofEdwardThatch,who,withabellowthatmighthavebeenagreetingbutcouldjustaswellhavebeenawar-cry,appearedatthetopofthestepsandburstontotheterrace,asthoughTheOldAverywereaprizeandhewasabouttopillageit.

Averydifferent-lookingEdwardThatchitwastoo,becausetohisalreadyimpressiveheadofhairhehadaddedahugeblackbeard.

Evertheshowman,hestoodbeforeuswithhishandsspread.Behold.Thentippedmeawinkandmovedintothecentreoftheterrace,takingcommandwithouteventrying.(Whichisfunny,whenyouthinkonit,becauseforallourtalkofbeingarepublic,aplaceofultimatefreedom,wedidstillconformtoourownformsofhierarchy,andwithBlackbeardaroundtherewasneveranydoubtwhowasincharge.)

Vanegrinned.Awaywithhisscowlwentthetensionontheterrace.“CaptainThatch,asIliveandbreathe.Andwhatisthismagnificentmuzzleyou’vecultivated?”

HerubbedahandoverhisowngrowthasBlackbeardpreened.“Whyflyablackflagwhenablackbeardwilldo?”laughedThatch.Thatwasthemoment,infact,thathislegendwasborn.Themomenthetook

thenameBlackbeard.He’dgoontoplaithisfacefuzz.Whenheboardedshipsheinsertedlitfusesintoit,strikingterrorinallwhosawhim.Ithelpedmakehimthemostinfamouspirate,notjustintheBahamasbutinthewholewideworld.

Hewasneveracruelman,Thatch,thoughhehadafearsomereputation.ButlikeAssassins,withtheirrobesandviciousbladesspringingfromsecretplaces;

likeTemplarsandtheirsinistersymbolsandtheirconstantinsinuationsaboutpowerfulforces,EdwardThatch,Blackbeardashecametobeknown,knewfullwellthevalueofmakingyourenemiesshittheirbreeches.

Itturnedoutthattheale,thesanctuaryandthegoodcompanywasn’ttheonlyreasonwe’dbeengracedwiththepresenceofCharlesVaneandCalicoJack.

“Thewordis,theCubangovernorhimselfisfixingtoreceiveamessofgoldfromanearbyfort,”saidVanewhenwe’davailedourselvesoftankardsandlitourpipes.“Untilthen,it’sjustsittingthere,itchingtobetook.”

AndthatwashowwefoundourselveslayingsiegetoPortoGuarico...

•••

Well,thefighthadbeenbloody,butshort.Witheverymantooledupandourblackflagsflying,webroughtfourgalleonstothebayandhammeredthefortresswithshot,justtosaywe’darrived.

Thenwedroppedanchor,launchedyawls,thenwadedthroughtheshallows,snarling,shoutingwarcries,ourteethbared.IgotmyfirstlookatBlackbeardinfullflight,andhewasindeedafearsomesight.Forbattlehedressedentirelyinblack,andthefusesinhisbeardcoughedandsplutteredsothatheseemedtobealivewithsnakesandwreathedinaterrifyingfog.

Therearenotmanysoldierswhowon’tturntailandrunatthesightofthatchargingupthebeachtowardsthem,whichiswhatalotofthemdid.Thosebravesoulswhoremainedbehindtofightordie,theydidthelatter.

Itookmyfairshareoflives,mybladeonmyrighthand,asmuchapartofmeasmyfingersandthumbs,mypistolblastinginmyleft.WhenmypistolswereemptyIdrewmycutlass.Thereweresomeofourmenwhohadneverseenmeinactionbefore,andyou’llforgivemeforadmittingtherewasanelementofshowmanshipinmycombatasIspanfrommantoman,cuttingdownguardswithonehand,blastingwiththeother,fellingtwo,sometimesthree,atatime;driven,notbyferocityorblood-lust—Iwasnoanimal,therewaslittlesavageryorcrueltytowhatIdid—butbyskill,graceanddexterity.Therewasakindofartistrytomykilling.

WhenthefortwasoursIenteredtheroomwhereLaureanoTorressatsmokinghispipe,overseeingthemoneycount,twosoldiersashisbodyguards.

Itwastheworkofamomentforhistwosoldierstobecometwodeadsoldiers.HegavemealookofscornanddistasteasIstoodinmyAssassin’srobes—slightlytattybynowbutstillasighttosee—andmybladeclickedback

intoplacebeneathmyfistwhilethebloodofhisguardsleakedthroughthesleeve.

“Wellhello,YourExcellency,”Isaid.“Ihadwordyoumightbehere.”Hechuckled.“Iknowyourface,pirate.Butyournamewasborrowedthelast

timewespoke.”DuncanWalpole.Imissedhim.BynowAdewaléhadjoinedusinthetreasureroom,andashisgazewent

fromthecorpsesofthesoldierstoTorres,hiseyeshardened,perhapsasherememberedbeingshackledinoneofthegovernor’svessels.

“So,”Icontinued,“what’saTemplarGrandMasterdoingsofarfromhiscastillo?”

Torresassumedahaughtylook.“I’drathernotsay.”“AndI’drathernotcutyerlipsoffandfeed’emtoya,”Isaidcheerily.Itdidthetrick.Herolledhiseyesbutsomeofhissmugnesshadevaporated.

“AfterhisescapefromHavanaweofferedarewardforTheSage’srecapture.Todaysomeoneclaimstohavefoundhim.Thisgoldishisransom.”

“Whofoundhim?”Iasked.Torreshesitated.Adewaléputhishandtothehiltofhisswordandhiseyes

burnedhatefullyattheTemplar.“AslaverbythenameofLaurensPrins.”Torressighed.“Helivesin

Kingston.”Inodded.“Welikethisstory,Torres,andwewanttohelpyoufinishit.But

we’regoingtodoitourwayusingyouandyourgold.”Hehadnochoice,andheknewit.OurnextstopwasKingston.

THIRTY-NINE

SoitwasthatsomedayslaterAdewaléandIfoundourselvesroastingintheheatofKingstonasweshadowedthegovernorashemadehiswaytohismeetingwithPrins.

Prins,itwassaid,hadasugarplantationinKingston.TheSagehadbeenworkingforhimbutPrinshadgotwindofthebountyandthoughthecouldmakethesale.

Stormtheplantation,then?No.Toomanyguards.ToohighariskofalertingTheSage.Besides,wedidn’tevenknowforcertainhewasthere.

InsteadwewantedtouseTorrestobuytheman:TorreswouldmeetPrins,givehimhalfthegoldandoffertheotherhalfinreturnforthedeliveranceofTheSage;AdewaléandIwouldswoopin,takeTheSage,whiskhimoff,thenpriseoutofhimthelocationofTheObservatory.Thenwewouldberich.

Simple,eh?Whatcouldgowrongwithsuchawell-wroughtplan?Theanswer,whenitcame,cameintheshapeofmyoldfriendJamesKidd.Attheport,TorreswasgreetedbyPrins,whowasoldandoverweightand

sweatinginthesun,andthetwoofthemwalkedtogether,talking,withtwobodyguardsslightlyinfrontofthem,twobehind.

WouldTorresraisethealarm?Perhaps.Andifhedid,thenPrinssurelyhadenoughmenathiscommandtooverpoweruseasily.Butifthathappened,Torresknewthatmyfirstswordslashwouldbeacrosshisthroatandifthathappened,noneofuswouldseeTheSageagain.

Thefunnythingis,Ididn’tseehim.Notatfirst.InsteaditwasasthoughIsensedhimorthatIbecameawareofhim.Ifoundmyselflookingaround,thewayyoudoifyousmellburningwhenyoushouldn’t.What’sthatsmell?Where’sthatcomingfrom?

OnlythendidIseehim.Afigurewholoiteredinacrowdattheotherendofthepier,partofthebackgroundbutvisibletome.Whenheturnedhisface,Isawwhoitwas.JamesKidd.Notheretotaketheairandseethesightsbythelookof

him.HereonAssassinbusiness.Heretokill...who?Prins?Torres?Jaysus.WekeptclosetotheharbourwallasIledAdewaléover,grabbed

Kiddanddraggedhimintoanarrowalleywaybetweentwofishinghuts.“Edward,whatthehellareyoudoinghere?”HewrithedinmygripbutIheld

himeasily.(I’dthinkbacktothatlater—howeasilyIwasabletopinhimtothehutwall.)

“I’mtailingthesementoTheSage,”Itoldhim.“Canyouholdoffuntilheappears?”

Kidd’seyebrowsshotup.“TheSageishere?”“Aye,mate,heis,andPrinsisleadingusstraighttohim.”“Jaysus.”HepulledafrustratedfacebutIwasn’tofferinghimachoice.“I’ll

staymybladeforatime—butnotlong.”TorresandPrinshadmovedoffbythenandwehadnochoicebuttofollow.I

followedKidd’slead,on-the-spotAssassintrainingintheartofstealth.Itworkedlikeadream.Bystayingatacertaindistancewewereabletoremainoutofsightandpickuponsnippetsofconversation,likeTorres’sgettingpeevedatbeingmadetohangon.

“Igrowtiredofthiswalk,Prins,”hewassaying.“Wemustbeclosebynow.”Asitturnedout,wewere.Butclosetowhat?NottoPrins’splantation,that

muchwascertain.Aheadwasthedilapidatedwoodenfencingandodd,incongruousarchedentranceofwhatlookedlikeagraveyard.

“Yes,justhere,”Prinsansweredhim.“Wemustbeonequalfooting,yousee?I’mafraidIdon’ttrustTemplarsanymorethanyoumusttrustme.”

Theysteppedinsideandweloitered.“WellifI’dknownyouweresoskittish,Prins,I’dhavebroughtyoua

bouquetofflowers,”Torressaidwithforcedhumour,andwithalastlookaround,heenteredthegraveyard.

Prinslaughed.“Ah,Idon’tknowwhyIbother...Forthemoney,Isuppose.Vastsumsofmoney...”Hisvoicehadtrailedoff.Withanodweslippedinsidethecemetery,keepinglowandusingthecrookedmarkersascover,oneeyeonthecentrewhereTorres,Prinsandhisfourmindershadcongregated.

“Nowisthetime,”Kiddtoldmeaswegathered.“No.NotuntilweseeTheSage,”Irepliedfirmly.BynowtheTemplarandtheslaverweredoingtheirdeal.Fromapouch

hangingathiswaist,TorresproducedabagofgoldanddroppeditintoPrins’soutstretchedhand.Greasinghispalmnotwithsilver,butgold.Prinsweighedit,hiseyesneverleavingTorres.

“Thisisbutaportionoftheransom,”saidTorres.Atwitchofhismouthwastheonlycluehewasnothisusualcomposedself.“Therestiscloseathand.”

BynowtheDutchmanhadopenedthebag.“Itpainsmetotrafficsomeoneofmyownraceforprofit,Mr.Torres.Tellmeagain...WhathasthisRobertsfellowdonetoupsetyou?”

“IsthissomeformofProtestantpietyIamnotfamiliarwith?”“Perhapsanotherday,”hesaid,thenunexpectedlytossedthebagbackto

Torres,whocaughtit.“What?”ButPrinswasalreadybeginningtowalkaway.Hemotionedtohisguardsat

thesametime,callingtoTorres,“Nexttime,seethatyouarenotfollowed!”andthentohismen,“Dealwiththis.”

Butitwasn’ttowardsTorresthatthemenrushed.Itwastowardsus.BladeengagedIstoodfrombehindmygravemarker,bracedandmetthefirst

attackwithaquickupwardsslashacrosstheflankofthefirstman.Itwasenoughtostophiminhistracks,andIspanaroundhimanddrovetheblade’sedgeintotheothersideofhisneck,slicingthecarotidartery,paintingthedayred.

Hesankanddied.Iwipedhisbloodfrommyface,thenwheeledandpunchedthroughthebreastplateofanother.AthirdmanImisdirectedbyleapingtoagravemarker,thenmadehimpayforhismistakewithsharpsteel.Adewalé’spistolcracked,thefourthmanfellandtheattackwasover.ButKiddhadalreadytakentohisheelsinpursuitofPrins.WithafinalglancebackatwhereTorresstood,dazedandunabletotakeinthesuddenturnofevents,IgaveayelltoAdewalé,thensetoffinpursuit.

“Youlostyourchance,Kenway,”calledKiddbackoverhisshoulderaswebothracedthroughthesun-bleachedstreets.“I’mgoingafterPrins.”

“Kidd,no.Comeon,man,wecanworkthistogether.”“Youhadyourchance.”BynowPrinshadworkedoutwhathadgonewrong:hisfourmen,hisbest

bodyguards,laydeadinagraveyard—howapt—andhewasalone,pursuedthroughthestreetsofKingstonbyanAssassin.

Littledidheknowitbuthisonlychanceofsurvivalrightnowwasme.Youhadtofeelsorryforhim.NobodyinhisrightmindwantsEdwardKenwayashisonlychanceofsurvival.

IcaughtKidd,grabbedhimbythewaistandpulledhimtotheground.(AndIsweartoGod—andI’mnotjustsayingthisbecauseofwhatwould

happenlater.ButIthoughttomyselfhowlighthewas,howslenderwasthe

waistthatIgrabbed.)“Ican’tletyoukillhim,Kidd,”Igasped.“NotuntilI’vefoundTheSage.”“I’vebeenstalkingthatpigforaweeknow,chartinghismoves,”saidKidd

angrily.“AndhereIfindnotone,buttwoofmytargets—andyourobmeofboth.”

OurfacesweresoclosetogetherIcouldfeeltheheatofhisrage.“Patience,”Isaid,“andyou’llhaveyourkills.”Furious,hepulledaway.“Allright,then,”heagreed.“Butwhenwelocate

TheSage,you’regoingtohelpmetakePrins.Gotthat?”Wespatandshook.Thevolcanohaderuptedbutseemedtosettle,andwe

madeourwaytoPrins’splantation.So,wewouldhavetobreakinafterall.How’saboutthatforbeingmadetoeatyourwords?

Onashorthilloverlookingthesugarplantation,wefoundaplatformandsatawhile.Iwatchedtheworkbelow.Themaleslavessangsadlyastheyhackedatcane,theconstantrustleofwhichseemedtofloatonthebreeze,andthewomenstumbledpast,bentdoublebeneathheavybasketsofsugarharvest.

Adewaléhadtoldmeaboutlifeonaplantation,howwhenthecanewascutandharvesteditwasrunbetweentwometalrollers,andhowitwascommonforaman’sarmtobedraggedintotherollers.Whenthathappened,theonlyway“toseparatethemanfromhisplight”wastohackoffthearm.Hetoldofhowaftercollectingthesugarjuiceitwastimetoboilawaythewatersfromthesugarandhowtheboilingsugarwouldsticklikebird-limeandburnon,leavingaterriblescar.“Ihadfriendsloseeyes,”hesaid,“andfingers,andarms.Andbeingslaves,youcanbelievethatweneverheardawordofpraise,noranapologyofanykind.”

Ithoughtofsomethingelsehe’dtoldme:“Withthisskinandwiththisvoice,wherecanIgointheworldandfeelatease?”

MenlikePrins,Irealized,werethearchitectsofmiseryforhispeople,theirideologytheoppositeofeverythingIbelievedinandeverythingwestoodforatNassau.Webelievedinlifeandliberty.Notthis...subjugation.Thistorture.Thisslowdeath.

Myfistsclenched.Kiddtookapipefromhispocketandsmokedalittleasweobservedthe

comingsandgoingsbelowus.“Thereareguardspatrollingthatpropertyfromendtoend,”hesaid.“Looks

tomeliketheyusethebellstosignaltrouble.See?There.”“We’llwanttodisablethosebeforepushingtoofar,”Isaidthoughtfully.

FromthecornerofmyeyeIsawsomethingodd.Kiddlickinghisthumbsthenpressingitintothebowlofhispipetoputitout.Well,thatwasn’todd,butwhathedidnextwasodd.Hebegandabbinghisthumbinthebowlandrubbingashonhiseyelids.

“Withsomanymenaboutwecan’trelyonstealthalone,”hesaid,“soI’lldowhatIcantodistractanddrawtheirattention,givingyouachancetocutthemdown.”

Iwatched,wonderingwhatthehellhewasplayingat,ashecuthisfingerwithatinypocketknife,andthensqueezedoutadropofblood,whichheputtohislips.Nextheremovedhistricorn.Heremovedthetiefromhishair,pulledatitandruffleditsothatitfellacrosshisface.Helickedthebackofonethumb,thenlikeacatusedittocleanhisface.Thenhepushedhisfingersintohisgums,removedbitsofwetwaddingthathadfattenedhischeeksanddroppedthemtotheground.

Nexthepulleduphisshirtandbeganunlacingacorsetthathepulledoutfrombeneathhisshirtandtossedtotheground,revealing,ashethenopenedthetopbuttonsofhisshirtandpulledthecollarwider,whatwere,unmistakably,histits.

Myheadspan.Histits?No.Hertits.BecausewhenIeventuallytoremyeyesoffthetitsandtohisface—no,herface—Icouldseethatthismanwasnotamanatall.

“YournameisnotJames,isit?”Isaid,slightlyunnecessarily.Shesmiled.“Notmostdays.Comeon.”Whenshestood,herposturehadchangedsothatwherebeforeshe’dwalked

andmovedlikeaman,nowtherewasnodoubt.Itwasasplainasthetitsonherchest.Shewasawoman.

Alreadybeginningtoclamberdownthehilltowardstheplantationfence,Iskiddedtocatchupwithher.

“Damnit,man.Howisityou’reawoman?”“Christ,Edward,isitsomethingthatneedsexplaining?Now,I’mheretodoa

job.I’llletyoubeamusedlater.”Intheend,though,Iwasn’treallyamused.Totellthetruth,itmadeperfect

sensethatsheshouldresorttodressinglikeaman.Sailorshatedhavingawomanaboardship.Theyweresuperstitiousaboutit.Ifthemysterywomanwantedtolivethelifeofaseaman,thenthat’swhatshehadtobe—aseaman.

WhenIthoughtaboutitIgoggledatthesheerbloodygutsofit.Thecourageitmusthavetakenforhertodowhatshedid.AndItellyou,mysweet,I’vemet

alotofextraordinarypeople.Somebad.Somegood.Mostamixofgoodandbad,becausethat’sthewaymostpeopleare.OfallofthemtheexampleI’dmostlikeyoutofollowishers.HernamewasMaryRead.Iknowyouwon’tforgetit.BravestwomanIevermet,barnone.

FORTY

AsIwaitedforMarybythegatesIoverheardguardschatting.Torreshadmanagedtoslipaway.Interesting.Prinswasholedupinhisplantationinfearofhislife.Good.Ihopethefeargrippedicyhandsathisstomach.Ihopetheterrorkepthimawakeatnights.I’dlookforwardtoseeingitinhiseyeswhenIkilledhim.

First,though,togainentry.AndforthatIneeded...Thereshewas.Youhadtohandittoher,shewasasuperbactor.ForGod

knowshowlongshe’dconvincedallofusthatshewasaman,andnowhereshewasinanewrole,notchangingsexthistimebutconvincingtheguardsshewasill.Andyes,doingabloodygoodjobofit.

“Standyourground!”orderedasoldieratthegate.“Please,I’vebeenshot,”sherasped.“Ineedaid.”“Christ,Phillips,lookather.She’shurt.”Themoresympatheticofthetwosoldierssteppedforwardandthegatetothe

plantationopenedinfrontofher.“Sir,”shesaidweakly,“I’mpoorlyandfaint.”SympatheticSoldierofferedherhisarmtohelpherinside.“Blessyou,lads,”shesaidandlimpedthroughthegate,whichclosedbehind

them.Ididn’tseeitfrommyvantagepoint,ofcourse,butIheardit:theswishofablade,themuffledpunchingsounditmadeasshedroveitintothem,thelowmoanasthelastoflifeescapedthem,thenthethumpoftheirbodiesonthedirt.

Nowwewerebothinsideanddartingacrossthecompoundtowardshismanor.Probablywewereseenbyslaves,butwehadtohopetheywouldn’traisethealarm.Ourprayerswereansweredbecausemomentsafterthatwewerecreepingintothemanor,usinghandsignalstomovestealthilyaroundtherooms—untilwecameacrosshimstandinginagazeboinarearyardofthehouse.Crouchedoneithersideofanarchway,wepeekedaroundtheframeandsawhimthere,standingwithhisbacktous,hishandsacrosshisstomachlookingoutover

hisgrounds,pleasedwithhislotinlife,afatslaver,hisfortunebuiltonthesufferingofothers.YouremembermesayingI’dmetsomewhowereallbad?LaurensPrinswastopofthatlist.

Welookedatoneanother.Thekillbelongedtoherandyet,forsomereason(becausetheyweretryingtorecruitme?),shewavedmeonward.Istood,wentthroughtotheyard,creptbeneaththegazeboandstoodbehindLaurensPrins.

Andengagedmyblade.Oh,Ikeptitwellgreased;theonethingyoucanbesureofwhenitcomesto

piratesisthatwhilewemaynotbeaparticularlydomesticatedbreed,wekeptourweaponsingoodcondition.Itwasthesamephilosophyaskeepingthegalleonship-shape.Aquestionofneed,ofsurvival.

Soitwaswithmyblade.WhenitgotwetIcleaneditthoroughly,andIkeptitgreasedtowithinaninchofitslife,andsothesedaysitbarelymadeanoisewhenIejectedit.Itwassoquiet,infact,thatPrinsdidn’thearit.

Icursed,andatlastheturnedinsurprise,perhapsexpectingtoseeoneofhisguardsthere,abouttoshoutatthemanforhisimpudence,creepinguponhimlikethat.InsteadIthrustthebladeintohimandhiseyesopenedwideinsurprise,frozenlikethatasIlethimdowntothefloor,keepingthebladeinhim,holdinghimthereasbloodfilledhislungsandthelifebegantoleavehim.

“Whyhangovermelikealeeringcrow?”hecoughed.“Toseeanoldmansuffer?”

“You’vecausednosmallportionofsufferingyourself,Mr.Prins,”Itoldhimdispassionately.“Thisisretribution,Isuppose.”

“Youabsurdcut-throatsandyourpreciousphilosophy,”hejeered,thefinalpatheticcontemptofadyingman.“Youliveintheworld,butyoucannotmakeitmove.”

Ismileddownathim.“Youmistakemymotive,oldman.I’monlyafterabitofcoin.”

“AswasI,lad,”hesaid.“AswasI...”Hedied.Isteppedoutofthegazebo,leavinghisbodybehind,whenIheardanoise

fromaboveme.Lookingup,IsawonabalconyTheSage,Roberts,justasIrememberedhim.HeheldMaryhostage,withaflint-lockpistolaimedatthesideofherheadand—cleverlad—heheldherwristtostopherengagingherblade.

“Ifoundyourman,”shecalleddown,seeminglyunconcernedaboutthepistolatherforehead.He’duseittoo.Theheatinhiseyessaidso.Theyblazed.

Rememberme,doyou,mate?Ithought.Themanwhostoodbywhiletheytookyourblood?

Hedid.“TheTemplarfromHavana,”hesaid,nodding.“I’mnoTemplar,mate,”Icalledback,“thatwasjustaruse.We’vecomehere

tosaveyourarse.”(Bywhich,ofcourse,Imeant,“TortureyouuntilyoutelluswhereThe

Observatoryis.”)“Saveme?IworkforMr.Prins.”“Wellthenhe’sapoormantocallmaster.Hemeanttosellyououttothe

Templars.”Herolledhiseyes.“Youcan’ttrustanyone,itseems.”Perhapsherelaxed,forMarychosethatmomenttomakehermove.She

draggedtheheelofherbootdownhisshinandhecriedoutinpainasshetwistedtoonesideandfromunderneathhisgrasp.Sheflailedforhisgunarmbuthewhippeditaway,aimedandfiredbutmissed.Nowshewasoffbalanceandhesawhischance,pivotingontherailofthebalconyandkickingherwithbothfeet.WithayellsheflippedovertherailandIwasalreadystartingforwardtotryandcatchherwhenshecaughtherselfandswungintothebalconybelow.

Meanwhile,TheSagehaddrawnanotherpistol,butguardswerearriving,alertedbythegunfire.

“Roberts,”Ishouted,butinsteadofshootingattheguardsheaimedhissecondshotatthebell.Clang.Hecouldn’tmiss,andithadthedesiredeffect:asMarydroppedlithelydown

fromthesecondbalconytojoinme,engagingherbladeatthesametime,guardscamepouringfromthearchwaysintothecourtyard.Back-to-backwestoodbuttherewasnotimetoappraiseourenemyatleisure.Musketsandpistolswerebeingproduced,sointoactionwesprang.

Sixeach,Ithink,wasthetally.Twelvemenwhodiedwithvaryingdegreesofbraveryandskill,andatleastonecaseofdubioussuitabilityforanykindofcombat.Itwasthewayhescreweduphiseyesandwhimperedashecamerunningintobattle.

Weheardtherunningfeetofmoremenarrivingandknewthatwasourcuetoescape,dashingfromthecourtyard,thenacrossthecompound,urgingtheslavestorun,run,freethemselves,aswewent.Iftherehadnotbeenscoresofsoldiersonourtails,thenwewouldhavestoppedandforcedthemtoescape.Asitwas,Idon’tknowwhethertheypressedhometheadvantagewe’dgiventhem.

•••

Later,whenwestoppedandIwasdonecursingmyluckatlosingRoberts,Iaskedherrealname.

“MaryReadtomymum,”sheanswered,andatthesametimeIfeltsomethingpressintomycrotchandwhenIlookeddown,sawthatitwasthepointofMary’shiddenblade.

Shewassmiling,thankGod.“Butnotawordofittoanyone,”shesaid.“OrI’llunmanyouaswell.”Ineverdidtellanyone.Afterall,thiswasawomanwhoknewhowtopiss

standingup.Iwasn’tabouttounderestimateher.

FORTY-ONE

JANUARY1718

DearEdward,

Iwritewithsadnewsofyourfather,whopassedawayonemonthago,takenbypleurisy.Hispassingwasnotpainful,andhediedinmyarmsIampleasedtosay.Soatleastweweretogetheruntiltheveryend.WewerepooratthetimeofhispassingandsoIhavetakenajobata

localtavernwhereyoumayreachmeifyouwishtocorrespond.Newsofyourexploitshasfoundmyears.Theysayyouareapirateofsomeinfamy.Iwishthatyoucouldwritetomeandallaymyfearsonthismatter.IregrettosayIhavenotseenCarolinesinceyouleft,andsoIamunabletopassyouanydetailsregardingherhealth.

Mother

Ilookedatthereturnaddress.Iwasn’tsurewhethertolaughorcry.

FORTY-TWO

Well,IknowIwasinNassauduringthatearlypartof1718—whereelsewouldIbe,itwasmyhome—buttobehonestIrememberonlyfragments.Why?That’saquestionyouneedtodirecttohiminthere.Him,thatlittlevoiceinsidewhotellsyouyouneedonemoredrinkwhenyouknowyou’vehadenough.Thatwasthelittlemanwhostartedhootingandwouldn’tletmepassTheOldAverywithoutatripinsidetowhileawaytheday,thenwakeupthenext,roughasarseholes,knowingtherewasonlyonethingthatwouldmakemefeelbetter,anditwasservedbyAnneBonny,barmaidatTheOldAvery.Andthen,whatdoyouknow?Thewholecircle—aviciousbloodycircle—wouldbeginagain.

Yes,I’vesinceworkedoutIdranktodrownmydiscontent,butthat’sthethingwithdrinking,youoftendon’tknowwhyatthetime.Youdon’trealizethatthedrinkingisasymptom,notacure.SoIsatandwatchedasNassaufelltorackandruin,andbeingsodrunk,Iforgottofeeldisgustedaboutit.InsteadIspentdayafterdayatthesametableofTheOldAvery,eitherstaringatmyfilchedpictureofTheObservatoryorattemptingtoetchoutalettertoMotherortoCaroline.ThinkingofFather.Wonderingifthefireatthefarmhousehadhastenedhisdeath.WonderingifIwastoblameforthattooandknowingtheanswerwasthereasonwhymyletterstoMotherendedupcrumpledbitsofpaperontheflooroftheterrace.

Mindyou,Iwasn’tsowrappedupinmyproblemsthatIforgottoeyeupthedeliciousbehindofAnneBonny,evenifshewasforbiddentous.(Officially,thatwas.ButAnne,let’sjustsayshelikedthecompanyofpirates,ifyouknowwhatImean.)

AnnehadarrivedinNassauwithherhusband,James,abuccaneerandluckybleederforbeingmarriedtoher.Havingsaidthat,shehadawayabouther,didAnne,likeshewasn’tafraidtogiveafellowthegladeye,whichdidmakeyouwonderifoldJamesBonnyhadhishandsfullwiththatone.I’dwagerthatservingalesatTheOldAverywasn’thisidea.

“There’spreciouslittleinthistownbutpissandinsects,”sheusedtocomplain,blowingstrandsofhairoffherface.Shewasright,butstillshestayed,fendingofftheadvancesofmost,acceptingtheadvancesofaluckyfew.

Itwasaroundthattime,asIwallowedinmyownmisery,daysspentchasingawayonehangoverwhileworkingonnewones,thatwefirstheardaboutTheKing’sPardon.

“It’sabagofshite!”CharlesVanehadsaidthat.Hiswordspenetratingthatmidmornboozebuzz

I’dbeenworkingon.Whatwas?“It’saruse,”hethunderedon.“OnetokeepussoftbeforetheyattackNassau!

You’llsee.Markme.”Whatwasaruse?“It’snoruse,Vane,”saidBlackbeard,hisvoicebetrayinganunusual

seriousness.“IhearditstraightfromthemouthofthegreasyBermudancaptain.There’sapardononofferforanypiratewhowantsit.”Apardon.Iletthewordssinkin.Hornigoldwastheretoo.“Ruseornot,Ithinkit’splaintheBritishmayreturn

toNassau,”hesaid.“Witharmsnodoubt.Intheabsenceofanyclearideas,Isaywelaylow.Nopiracyandnoviolence.Donothingtoruffletheking’sfeathersfornow.”

“Preservingtheking’splumageisnoconcernofmine,Ben,”Blackbeardrebukedhim.

Benjaminturnedonhim.“Itwillbewhenhesendshissoldierstoscrubthisislandcleanofourresidue.Lookaroundyou,man.Isthiscesspoolworthdyingfor?”

Hewasright,ofcourse.Itstank,andmoresoeveryday:avomitousmixtureofshitandbilge-waterandrottingcarcasses.Butevenso,difficultthoughitmightbeforyoutobelieve,itwasourvomitousmixtureofshitandbilge-waterandrottingcarcasses,andwewerepreparedtofightforit.Besides,itdidn’tsmellsobadwhenyouweredrunk.

“Aye,it’sourrepublic.Ouridea,”insistedBlackbeard.“Afreelandforfreemen,remember?Somaybeit’sfilthytolookat.Butain’titstillanideaworthfightingfor?”

Benjaminavertedhiseyes.Hadhealreadydecided?Hadhemadehischoice?

“Ican’tbesure,”hesaid.“ForwhenIlookonthefruitsofouryearsof

labour,allIseeissickness...idleness...idiocy.”RememberwhatIsaidaboutBenjamin?Howhedresseddifferently,hada

moremilitarybearing.Lookingbacknow,Ithinkheneverreallywantedtobeapirate,thathisambitionslayontheotherside,withHisMajesty’sNavy.Hewasneverespeciallykeenonattackingships,foronething,whichwasararityamongus.Blackbeardtoldthestoryofhowavesselunderhiscommandhadoncelaidsiegetoasloop,onlyforBenjamintostealthepassengers’hats.That’sall,justtheirhats.Andyes,youmightthinkitwasbecausehewasanoldsoftyanddidn’twanttoterrorizethepassengerstoomuch,andmaybeyou’dberight.Butthefactis,outofallofus,BenjaminHornigoldwastheleastlikeapirate,almostasthoughhewasn’twillingtoacceptthathewasone.

Allthatbeingthecase,Idon’tsupposeIshouldhavebeensurprisedbywhathappenednext.

FORTY-THREE

JULY1718

“DearestCaroline...”Andthat,onthatparticularoccasion(location:TheOldAvery,asifyou

neededtelling),wasasfarasIgot.“Puttingsomeshapetoyoursentiments?”Annestoodoverme,brownand

beautiful.Atreatfortheeyes.“Justashortletterhome.Ireckonshe’spastcaringanyway.”Icrumpleduptheletterandtosseditaway.“Ah,you’vegotahardheart,”saidAnneasshemovedoffbehindthebar.“It

shouldbesofter.”Aye,Ithought.Yerright,lass.Thatsoftheartfeltlikeitwasmelting.Inthe

monthssincewe’dheardaboutTheKing’sPardon,Nassauwasriven,dividedintothosewhotookthePardon,thosewhoplannedtotakethePardon(afteronefinalscore),andthosewhoweredeadagainstthePardonandcursedallothers,ledbyCharlesVane,and...

Blackbeard?Myoldfriendwaskeepinghispowderdry,butlookingbackIthinkhe’ddecidedthatalifeofpiracywasnolongerforhim.HewasawayfromNassauonthelookoutforprizes.Newsofbigscoresandstrangeallegianceswerereachingourears.IbegantothinkthatwhenBlackbeardhadleftNassau,he’dneverhadanyintentionofreturning.(Andheneverdid,asfarasIknow.)

Andme?Well,ontheonehandIwaswaryofbeingmateswithVane.Ontheother,Ididn’twanttotakethePardon,whichmadememateswithVanewhetherIlikeditornot.VanehadbeenwaitingforJacobitereinforcementstoarrivebuttheyneverhad.Insteadhebeganmakingplanstoleave,maybeestablishanotherpiraterepublicelsewhere.IwouldtaketheJackdawandleavewithhim.WhatotherchoicedidIhave?

Thencamethatmorning,afewdaysbeforewewereduetodepart,asIsatontheterraceofTheOldAvery,tryingtowritemylettertoCarolineandpassingthetimeofdaywithAnneBonny,whenweheardthesoundofcarriage-gunfirefromtheharbour.Aneleven-gunsalute,itwas,andweknewexactlywhatwasup.We’dbeenforewarnedaboutit.TheBritishwerecomingtotakecontroloftheisland.

Andheretheywerewithablockadethatbottledupbothentrancestotheharbour.HMSMilfordandHMSRosewerethemuscle.Twowarshipsescortingafleetoffiveothervessels,onwhichweresoldiers,craftsmen,supplies,buildingmaterials,anentirecolonycometoflushoutthepirates,dragNassauupbyitsbootstrapsandreturnittorespectability.

TheywereledbytheflagshipDelicia,whichdespatchedrow-boatstonegotiatethegraveyardofshipsandlandonourbeach.Aswearrivedthere,alongwitheveryotherjack-tarinNassau,itsoccupantswerejustlanding,ledbynoneotherthanmyoldfriendWoodesRogers.Hewashelpedoutofhisrow-boatlookingastannedandwell-keptasever,thoughmoreworn.YourememberhispromisetobegovernorofHavana?He’ddeliveredonthat.RememberhimtellingmehowheplannedtoroutthepiratesfromNassau?Itlookedasthoughheplannedondeliveringonthatonetoo.

NeverhadIlongedforBlackbeardmore.OnethingIknewwasthatmyoldfriendEdwardThatchwouldhaveknownwhichwaytoturn.Amixofinstinctandcunningwouldhavepoweredhimlikethewind.

“WellI’llbehanged,”CalicoJacksaidbymyside(temptingfatethere,Jack).“KingGeorgehasgrowntiredofourdevilry.Who’sthegrimfellow?”

“That’sCaptainWoodesRogers,”Ireplied,andasIwasinnohurrytoreacquaintmyselfwithhim,Ishrankintothecrowd,butstillcloseenoughtohearasRogerswashandedarollofparchmentthatheconsulted,beforesaying,“Wedesireaparleywiththemenwhocallthemselvesgovernorsofthisisland.CharlesVane,BenHornigoldandEdwardThatch.Comeforth,ifyouplease?”

Benjaminsteppedforward.“Lily-liveredpunk,”cursedJackandneverweretruerwordsspoken.Forif

therewasamomentthatNassaucametoanendandourhopesfortherepublicweredashed,thenthatwasit.

FORTY-FOUR

NOVEMBER1718

Itwasn’tuntilIfoundhimthatIreallyrealizedhowmuchIhadmissedhim.LittledidIknowIwassoontolosehimforgood.ItwasonaNorthCarolinabeach,OcracokeBay,justbeforedawnandhewas

havingaparty—ofcourse—andhadbeenupallnight—ofcourse.Therewerecampfiresdottedalloverthebeach,mendancingajigtothe

soundofafiddlefurtheralong,othermenpassingablack-jackofrumbetweenthemandguffawingloudly.Wildboarcookedonaspitandthedeliciousscentofitmademystomachdohungryflips.Perhapshere,onOcracokeBeach,Blackbeardhadestablishedhisownpiraterepublic.PerhapshehadnointerestwhatsoeverinreturningtoNassauandmakingthingsright.

CharlesVanewasalreadythere,andasIapproached,trudgingupthesandtowardsthemandalreadyanticipatingtheliquoronmylipsandthewildboarinmybelly,hewasstanding,hisconversationwithBlackbeardevidentlyjustending.

“Agreatdisappointmentyouare,Thatch!”hebellowednastily,thenonseeingme,said,“Hismindismadeuptostayhere,hesays.Sosodhimandhangallyouthatfollowthissorrybastardintoobscurity.”

AnybodyelsebutBlackbeard,andVanewouldhaveslithisthroatforbeingatraitortothecause.Buthedidn’tbecauseitwasBlackbeard.

AnybodyelsebutVane,andBlackbeardwouldhavehadhimputinleg-ironsforhisinsolence.Buthedidn’t.Why?MaybeoutofguiltbecauseBlackbeardhadturnedhisbackonpiracy.MaybebecausenomatterwhatyouthoughtofCharles,youhadtoadmirehisguts,hisdevotiontothecause.NonehadfoughtharderagainstthePardonthanCharles.NonehadbeenabiggerthorninRogers’ssidethanhe.He’dlaunchedafire-shipagainsttheirblockadeand

escaped,thencontinuedtoorchestrateraidsonNewProvidence,doinganythinghecouldtodisruptRogers’sgovernorshipwhilehewaitedforreinforcementstoarrive.TheparticularreinforcementshehopedforworeblackinbattleandwentbythenameBlackbeard.ButasIarrivedonthebeachthatbalmymorning,itlookedasthoughthelastofCharlesVane’shopeshadbeendashed.

Heleft,hisfeetkickingupcloudsofsandashestompedbackalongthebeach,awayfromtheflickeringwarmthofthecampfires,shakingwithrage.

Wewatchedhimgo.IlookeddownatBlackbeard.Hisbeltswereunbuckled,hiscoatunbuttonedandhisnewlyacquiredbellythrustatthebuttonsofhisshirt.Hesaidnothing,simplyusheredmetotakeaseatonthesandbesidehim,handedmeabottleofwineandwaitedformetotakeadrink.

“Thatmanisaprick,”hesaid,slightlydrunkenly,wavingahandinthedirectionofwhereCharlesVanehadbeen.Ah,Ithought,buttheironyisyouroldmuckerEdwardKenwaywantsthe

samethingastheprick.Vanemighthavebeendevotedtothecause,buthedidn’thavethefaithofthe

brethren.Alwaysacruelman,he’dlatelybecomeevenmoreruthlessandsavage.I’dbeentoldthathisnewtrickwastotorturecaptivesbytyingthemtothebowsprit,insertingmatchesbeneaththeireyelids—andthenlightingthem.Eventhemenwhofollowedhimhadbeguntoquestionhim.PerhapsVaneknewitaswellasIdid—thatNassauneededaleaderwhocouldinspirethemen.NassauneededBlackbeard.

Hestoodnow,Blackbeard,CharlesVaneadistantdotonthehorizon,andbeckonedmetofollow.

“Iknowyou’vecometocallmehome,Kenway.”Helookedtouched.“Yourfaithinmeiskind.ButwithNassaudonein,IfeelI’mfinished.”

IwastellingthetruthwhenIsaid,“I’mnotofthesamemind,mate.ButIwon’tbegrudgeyouthestateofyours.”

Henodded.“Jaysus,Edward.Livinglikethisislikelivingwithalargeholeinyourgut,andeverytimeyourinnardsspillovertheground,you’reobligedtoscoop’emupandshove’embackin.WhenBenandmefirstsetdowninNassau,Iundervaluedtheneedsforfolksofcharactertoshapeandguidetheplacetoitsfullpurpose.ButIwasnotwrongaboutthecorruptionthatcomeswiththatcourse.”

Foramomentorsoaswewalkedwelistenedtothetideonthesand,thesoftrushing,recedingnoiseofthesea.Perhapshe,likeme,whenhethoughtofcorruption,thoughtofBenjamin.

“Onceamangetsatasteofleadership,it’shardforhimnottowonderwhyheain’tinchargeofthewholeworld.”

Hegesturedbehind.“Iknowthesementhinkmeafinecaptain,butIbloodyhatethetasteofit.I’marrogant.Ilackthebalanceneededtoleadfrombehindthecrowd.”

IthoughtIknewwhathemeant.IthoughtIunderstood.ButIdidn’tlikeit—Ididn’tlikethefactthatBlackbeardwasdriftingawayfromus.

Wewalked.“YoustilllookingforthatSagefellow?”heaskedme.ItoldhimIwas,but

saidnothingofhowthesearchforTheSagehadconsistedmainlyofsittinginTheOldAverydrinkingandthinkingofCaroline.

“Ah,well,takingaprizeamonthbackIheardthatamannamedRobertswasworkingaslaveshipcalledthePrincess.Mightwanttoseeaboutit?”

So—thecarpenterwiththedeadeyes,themanwiththeagelessknowledge,hadmovedonfromplantationstoslaveships.Thatmadesense.

“ThePrincess.Cheers,Thatch.”

FORTY-FIVE

TheBritishwerecomingafterBlackbeard,ofcourse.IlaterfoundoutitwasaforceledbyLieutenantMaynardofHMSPearl.ArewardhadbeenputonBlackbeard’sheadbythegovernorofVirginiaaftermerchantsmadeanoiseaboutBlackbeard’shabitofsailingfromOcracokeBayandtakingtheoddprizehereandthere;thegovernorworriedthatOcracokeinletwouldsoonbecomeanotherNassau.Thegovernordidn’tlikehavingtheworld’smostinfamouspirateinhisback-yard.Soheputabountyonhisheadandsotheycame,theBritishdid.

•••

Thefirstweheardofitwasawhisperedalarm.“TheEnglisharecoming.TheEnglisharecoming,”andlookingthroughthegunhatchesofBlackbeard’sslooptheAdventure,wesawthatthey’dlaunchedasmallboatandweretryingtosneakuponus.Wewouldhavecompletelydestroyedthem,ofcourse,butforonecrucialthing.YouknowthatpartyIwastalkingabout?Thewineandthewildboar?Ithadgoneon.Andon.

Wewerevery,verycatastrophicallyhung-over.Thebestresponsewecouldmanagewaswarningtherow-boatoffwithsome

shot.TherewereveryfewofusaboardBlackbeard’sshipthatmorning,perhaps

twentyatthemost.ButIwasoneofthem,littleknowingIwasabouttohaveapartintheultimatefateoftheworld’smostfamouspirate.

Andgivehimhisdue,hemighthavebeenhung-over—justasweallwere—butBlackbeardknewthewater-waysaroundOcracokeBayandsooffwewent,weighinganchorandmakinghasteforthesand-banks.

BehinduscameMaynard’smen.TheyflewtheRedEnsignandleftusinnodoubtastowhattheyintended.IsawitinBlackbeard’seyes.Myoldfriend

EdwardThatch.AllofusaboardtheAdventurethatdayknewtheEnglishwereafterhimandhimalone.ThegovernorofVirginia’sdeclarationhadnamedonlyonepirate,andthatpiratewasEdwardThatch.Ithinkweallknewweweren’ttherealtargetsofthesedoggedEnglish;itwasBlackbeard.Nevertheless,notonemangavehimselfuporthrewhimselfoverboard.Therewasnotamanamonguswhowasnotwillingtodieforhim—thatwasthedevotionandloyaltyheinspired.IfonlyhecouldhaveusedthosequalitiesinserviceofNassau.

Thedaywascalm,therewasnowindinoursailsandwehadtouseoursweeperstomakeprogress.Wecouldseethewhitesofourpursuers’eyes,andtheycouldseeours.Blackbeardrantoourstern,whereheleanedoverthegunwaleandshoutedacrossthestillchannelatMaynard.

“Damnyou,villains,whoareyou?Wheredidyoucomefrom?”Thoseontheshipbehindgavenoanswer,juststaredatusblank-eyed.

Probablytheywantedtounsettleus.“Youmayseebyourcolourswearenopirates,”bellowedBlackbeard,

wavingaroundhimself,hisvoiceechoingstrangelyfromthesteepsand-banksonbothsidesofthenarrowchannel.“Launchaboattoboardus.You’llseewearenopirates.”

“Icannotspareaboattolaunch,”calledMaynardback.Therewasapause.“I’llboardyouwithmysloopsoonenough.”

Blackbeardcursedandraisedaglassofrumtotoasthim.“Idrinkdamnationtoyouandyourmenwhoarecowardly,dog!Ishallgivenortakeanyquarter.”

“AndinreturnIexpectnoquarterfromyou,EdwardThatch,andnorwillIgiveanyinreturn.”

ThetwosloopsunderMaynard’scommandcameon,andforthefirsttimeever,IsawmyfriendEdwardThatchatalossforwhattodo.Forthefirsttimeever,IthoughtIsawfearinthoseeyes.

“Edward...”Itriedtosay,wantingtotakehimtooneside,wantingustosittogether,aswehadsomanytimesatTheOldAvery,toplotandplanandscheme,butnotforthetakingofaprizethistime,no.ToescapetheEnglish.Togettosafety.Aroundusthecrewworkedinakindofbooze-soakeddaze.Blackbeardhimselfwasswiggingrum,hisvoicerisingalongwithhisinebriation.And,ofcourse,themoredrunkhebecame,thelessopentoreason,themorerecklessandrashhisactions,suchaswhenheorderedthegunsbeprimed,andbecausewehadnoshot,filledwithnailsandpiecesofoldiron.

“Edward,no...”Itriedtostophim,knowingtherehadtobeabetter,moretactfulwayto

escapetheEnglish.Knowingthattofireuponthemwouldbetosignourowndeathwarrants.Wewereoutnumbered,out-gunned.Theirmenwerenotdrunkorhung-overandtheyhadtheburninglightofzealotryintheireyes.TheywantedonethingandthatthingwasBlackbeard—drunk,angry,ragingandprobably,secretly,terrifiedBlackbeard.Boom.Thespreadoftheguns’shotwaswide,butwesawnothingbeyondashroud

ofsmokeandsandwhichobscuredourvision.Forlongmomentswewaitedwithbatedbreathtoseewhatdamageourbroadsidehadinflicted,andallweheardwerescreamsandthesoundofsplinteringwood.Whateverdamagewe’ddone,itsoundedgrievous,andasthefogclearedwesawthatoneofthepursuingshipshadveeredofftothesideandbeached,whiletheotherseemedtohavebeenhitaswell,withnosignofanycrewaboardandpartsofitshullshreddedandsplintered.Fromthemouthsofthecrewcameaweakifheartfeltcheerandwebegantowonderifallwasnotlostafterall.

Blackbeardlookedatme,nexttohimatthegunwale,andwinked.“Theotherone’sstillcomingthough,Edward,”Iwarned.“They’llreturn

fire.”Returnfiretheydid.Theyusedchain-shot,whichdestroyedourjib,andin

thenextmomentvictoriouscheershadturnedtoshoutsasourshipwasnolongerseaworthy,lurchingtothesideofthechannelandlisting,itssplinteredmastsgrazingthesteep-sidedbanks.Meantime,aswebobbeduselesslyintheswell,thechasingsloopnoseduponourstarboardside,givingusagoodopportunitytoseewhatstrengththeyhadremaining.Preciouslittle,itlookedlike.Wecouldseeamanatthetiller,withMaynardbyhissidegesturingashecried,“Pullalongside,pullalongside...”

WhichiswhenThatchdecidedattackwasthebestformofdefence.Hegavewordforthementoarmthemselvesandpreparetoboard,andwewaitedwithourpistolsprimedandcutlassesdrawn,afinalstandinadesertedbackchanneloffthecoastofanAmericancolony.

Powder-smokeshroudedus,thicklayersofithanginglikehammocksintheair.Itstungoureyesandgavethesceneaneeriefeel,asthoughtheEnglishsloopwasaghostship,appearingfromwithinthefoldsofaspirit-mist.Toaddtotheeffect,itsdecksremainedempty.JustMaynardandthemateatthehelm,Maynardshouting,“Pullalongside,pullalongside...”hiseyeswildandrollinglikeamadman.Thelookofhim,nottomentionthestateofhisship,gaveushope—itgaveushopethatmaybetheywereinevenworseshapethanwe’dat

firstthought,thatthiswasn’tthefinalstandafterall,thatmaybewe’dlivetofightanotherday.

Afalsehope,asitwouldturnout.Allwasquiet,justMaynard’sincreasinglyhystericalshriekingaswe

crouchedhiddenbehindthegunwale.Howmanymenwerestillleftaliveonthesloop,wehadnorealwayoftelling,butoneofuswasconfidentatleast.

“We’veknockedthemontheirheadsexceptthreeorfour,”shoutedBlackbeard.Hewaswearinghisblackhat,Inoticed,andhe’dlitthefusesinhisbeardandwasshroudedinsmoke,hishang-overcastoff;heglowedlikeadevil.“Let’sjumpaboardandcutthemtopieces.”Onlythreeorfour?Therehadtobemoreofthemleftalivethanthat,surely?Butbythenourtwohullshadbumped,andwithashout,Blackbeardledus

overthesideoftheAdventureandontotheBritishsloop,roaringabrutalwarrioryellasthemenfloodedtowardsMaynardandthefirstmateatthetiller.

ButMaynard,hewasasgoodaperformerasmyfriendMaryRead.Forassoonasourdozenpiratesboardedhisship,thatwildhystericallooklefthisface.Heshouted,“Now,men,now!”andahatchinthequarter-deckopenedandthetrapwassprung.

They’dbeenhidingfromus,playingpossum,pretendingtobedead,luringusonboard.Nowouttheycame,likeratsescapingbilge-water,twodozenofthemtomeetourpluckytwelve,andstraightawaytheclashingofsteel,thepoppingofgunshotandthescreamsfilledtheair.

Amanwasuponme.Ipunchedhiminthefaceandengagedmybladeatthesametime,dodgingtothesidetoavoidafountainofbloodandsnotthateruptedfromhisnose.Inmyotherhandwasmypistol,butIheardBlackbeardcallingme,“Kenway.”

Hewasdown,withalegbleedingbadly,defendinghimselfwithhisswordandcallingforagun.Itossedhimmineandhecaughtit,usingittofellamancomingathimwithraisedcutlass.

Hewasdead,though.Webothknewit.Weallknewit.“Inaworldwithoutgold,wecouldhavebeenheroes!”heshoutedasthey

teemedoverhim.MaynardledarenewedattackuponhimandBlackbeard,seeinghisnemesis

upclose,baredhisteethandswunghissword.Maynardscreeched,hishandgushingcrimsonashepulledawayandhisswordfell,itsguardbroken.Fromhisbelthesnatchedapistol,firedit,catchingEdwardontheshoulderandsendinghimbacktohisknees,wherehegruntedandswunghisswordastheenemy

movedinonhimremorselessly.AroundusIcouldseemoreofourmenfalling.Idrewmysecondpistol,

fired,andgaveoneoftheirmenathirdeye,butnowtheywereuponme,swarmingoverme.Icutmendown.Icutthemruthlessly.Theknowledgethatmynextattackerwoulddiethesamewaykeptafewofthematbay,givingmethechancetoglanceoverandseeEdwarddyingbyathousandcuts,onhiskneesbutfightingstill,surroundedbyvultureswhohackedandchoppedathimwiththeirblades.

WithashoutoffrustrationandangerIstoodandwhirledwithoutstretchedhands,mybladesformingaperimeterofdeaththatsentmenflailingbackwards.Isnatchedtheinitiative,shootingforwardandkickingthemaninfrontofmesothatIcouldleapoffhischestandfaceandIbrokethroughthebarrierofmensurroundingme.Intheairmybladesflashedandtwomenfellawaywithopenveins,bloodhittingthedeckwithanaudibleslap.Ilanded,thensprangacrossthedecktohelpmyfriend.

ButInevermadeit.Frommyleftcameasailorwhostoppedmyprogress,ahugebruteofamanwhothumpedintome,thetwoofusmovingatsuchspeedthatneitherofuscouldstopthemomentumthattookusoverthesideofthegunwaleandintothewaterbelow.

IsawonethingbeforeIfell.Isawmyfriend’sthroatopenandbloodsheetdownhisfront,hiseyesrollingtothetopofhisheadasBlackbeardfellforafinaltime.

FORTY-SIX

DECEMBER1718

You’venotheardamanscreamuntilyou’veheardamanwho’sjusthadhisknee-capblownoffscreaminginpain.

ThatwasthepunishmentdealtbyCharlesVanetothecaptainoftheBritishslaveshipwe’dboarded.ThatsameBritishslaveshiphadvirtuallyscuttledVane’sownvessel,sowe’dhadtosailtheJackdawnearbyandallowhismenonboard.Vanehadbeenfuriousaboutthat,butevenso,thatwasnoexcusetolosehistemper.Afterall,thiswholeexpeditionhadbeenhisidea.

He’dhatchedhisplansoonafterThatch’sdeath.“SoThatchhasbeentopped?”Vanesaid,aswesatinthecaptain’squartersof

theJackdaw,withCalicoJackdrunkandasleepnearby,lyingstraight-leggedinthechairinawaythatseemedtodefygravity.HewasanotherwhohadrefusedtotakeTheKing’sPardon,sowewerestuckwithhim.

“Hewasoutnumbered,”IsaidofBlackbeard.Theimagewasanunwelcomenewarrivalinmymind.“Icouldn’treachhim.”

Irememberedfalling,seeinghimdie,bloodpouringfromhisthroat,hackeddownlikearabiddog.Itookanotherlongswigofrumtobanishtheimage.

They’dhunghisheadfromthebowspritasatrophy,soI’dheard.Andtheycalledusscum.“Devildamntheman,hewasfierce,buthisheartwasdivided,”saidCharles.

He’dbeenworryingatmytabletopwiththepointofhisknife.AnyotherguestI’dhavetoldtostopbutnotCharlesVane.ACharlesVanedefeatedbyWoodesRogers.ACharlesVanemourningthedeathofBlackbeard.Mostofall,aCharlesVanewithaknifeinhishand.

Hewasright,though,withwhathesaid.EvenifBlackbeardhadlived,therewaslittledoubtheintendedtoleavethelifebehind.Tostandatourheadand

leadusoutofthewildernesswasnotsomethingthathadappealedtoEdwardThatch.

Welapsedintosilence.PerhapswewereboththinkingofNassauandhowitbelongedinthepast.Orperhapswewerebothwonderingwhattodointhefuture,becauseaftersomemoments,Vanetookadeepbreath,seemedtopullhimselftogetherandslappedhisfiststohisthighs.

“Right,Kenway,”heannounced,“I’vebeenmusingonthisplanofyours...This...Observatoryyouweregoingonabout.Howdoweknowitexists?”

Ishothimasidewayslooktoseeifhewasjoking.Afterall,hewouldn’thavebeenthefirst.I’dbeenmuchmockedformytalesofTheObservatoryandwasn’tinthemoodforanymore,notthen,anyway.Buthewasn’t,hewasdeadlyserious,leaningforwardinhischair,awaitingmyanswer.CalicoJackslumberedon.

“WefindaslaveshipcalledthePrincess.AboardshouldbeamancalledRoberts.Hecanleadustoit.”

Charlesseemedtothink.“AllthemslaversworkfortheRoyalAfricanCompany.Let’sfindanyoneoftheirshipsandstartaskingsomequestions.”

Butunfortunatelyforusall,thefirstRoyalAfricanCompanyshipweencounteredblewholesinVane’sship,theRanger,meaningheneededtoberescued.Atlastweboardedtheslaveship,whereourmenhadalreadyquieteneddowntheslaver’screw.Therewefoundthecaptain.

“ThiscaptainclaimsthePrincesssailsoutofKingstoneveryfewmonths,”ItoldVane.

“Allright.We’llsetacourse,”saidVane,andthedecisionwasmade:wewereheadingforKingston,andnodoubttheslavecaptainwouldhavebeenokayandleftunharmed,hadhenotcalledoutangrily,“Youmadeahashofmycellsandrigging,youjackanapes.Youowemeashare.”

EverymantherewhoknewCharlesVanecouldhavetoldyouwhatwouldhappennext:terribleviolencewithnoremorse.Soitwasatthatmoment,whenheswungaround,drewhisgunandstrodeovertothecaptaininonequickandfuriousmovement.Thenheputthemuzzleoftheguntothecaptain’sknee,hisotherhandheldtostophimselfbeingsplashedwithblood.Andpulledthetrigger.

Ithappenedquickly,matter-of-factly.IntheaftermathCharlesVanewalkedaway,abouttomovepastmewhenIshouted,“Damnit,Vane!”

“Oh,Charles,whatasurlydevilyouare,”saidCalicoJack,anditwasararemomentofsobrietyfromCalicoJack,afactthatwasalmostasshockingasthe

captain’spiercingscreams,butthentheolddrunkardwasseeminglyinthemoodtochallengeCharlesVane.

Vaneturnedonhisquartermaster.“Don’tfuckwithme,Jack.”“Itismymandatetofuckwithyou,Charles,”snappedCalicoJack,normally

laidoutdrunk,buttodayinamoodtochallengeVane’sauthority,itseemed.“Lads,”hecommanded,andasifoncue—asthoughtheyhadbeenawaitingtheirchance—severalmenloyaltoCalicoJacksteppedforwardwithdrawnweapons.Wewereoutnumbered,butthatdidn’tstopAdewalé,whowasabouttodrawhiscutlass,onlytofeelthefullweightofaguardacrosshisface,whichsenthimcrumplingtothedeck.

IfoundmyselfwithafacefullofpistolbarrelswhenImovedforwardtohelp.

“See...TheboysandIhadabitofacouncilwhileyouwerewastingtimewiththislot,”saidCalicoJack,indicatingthecapturedslaver.“TheyfiguredI’dbeafittercaptainthanyourecklessdogs.”

HegesturedtowardsAdewalé,andmybloodroseashesaid,“ThisoneIfigureImaysellforatennerinKingston.Butwithyoutwo,Ican’ttakeanychances.”

Surrounded,me,Charlesandourmenwerehelplesstodoanything.Mymindreeled,wonderingwhereithadallgonesowrong.HadweneededBlackbeardthatmuch?Didwerelyonhimsoheavilythatthingscouldgosoterriblyawryinhisabsence?Itseemsso.Itseemsso.

“You’llregretthisday,Rackham,”Ihissed.“Iregretmostofthemalready.”ThemutineerCalicoJacksighed.His

colourfulIndianshirtwasthelastthingIsawasanothermancameforwardclutchingablackbagthathepulledovermyhead.

FORTY-SEVEN

ThatwashowwefoundourselvesmaroonedonProvidencia.AfteramonthadriftonthedamagedRanger,thatwas.

Jackhadleftusfoodandweaponsbutwehadnomeansofsteeringorsailingtheship,soitwasamonthatseainwhichwetriedandfailedtorepairthebrokenriggingandmastsandspentmostofthedaymanningthepumpsinordertostayafloat;amonthinwhichI’dhadtolistentoVanerantingandravingallhoursofthedayandnight.Shakinghisfistatthinair,hewas.“I’llgetya,JackRackham!I’llopeny’up.I’lltearoutyourorgansandstringabloodylutewiththem.”

WespentChristmas1718ontheRanger,bobbingaroundlikeadiscardedliquorbottleonthewaves,prayingformercyfromtheweather.Justmeandhim.Ofcourse,wehadnocalendarsorsuch,soitwasimpossibletosaywhenChristmasfelloronwhichday1718became1719,butI’mpreparedtowagerIspentthemlisteningtoCharlesVanerageatthesea,atthesky,atme,andespeciallyathisoldmucker,CalicoJackRackham.

“I’llgetya!YouseeifIdon’t,y’scurvybastid!”WhenItriedtoremonstratewithhim,hintingthatperhapshisconstant

shoutingwasdoingmoreharmtoourmoralethangood,heturnedonme.“Well,well,thefearsomeEdwardKenwayspeaks!”he’dbawl.“Praytellus,

Cap’n,howtoquitthispredicamentandtelluswhatgeniusyouhaveforsailingaboatwithnosailsandnorudder.”

Howwedidn’tkilleachotherduringthattime,I’llneverknow,but,byGod,weweregladtoseeland.Wehootedwithpleasure,claspedeachother,jumpedupanddown.WelaunchedayawlfromthestrickenRanger,andasnightfellwerowedashore,thencollapsedonthebeach,exhaustedbutecstaticthatafteramonthdriftingatseawe’dfinallyfoundland.

ThenextmorningweawoketofindtheRangerwreckedagainstthebeachandcursedoneanotherforfailingtodropanchor.

Andthencursedourluckaswerealizedjusthowsmallitwas,theislandonwhichwewerenowmarooned.

Providencia,itwascalled,asmallislandwithitsfairshareofhistory.Abloodyhistory,atthat.Englishcolonists,piratesandtheSpanishhaddonenothingbutfightoveritforthebestpartofacentury.Squabblingoverit.Fortyyearsago,thegreatpirateCaptainHenryMorganhadsethiscapatit,recaptureditfromtheSpanishanduseditashisbaseforawhile.

BythetimeVaneandIsetdownupontheisland,itwashometoafewcolonists,escapedslavesandconvictsandtheremnantsoftheMosquitoIndians,whowerenativetoit.Youcouldexploretheabandonedfort,buttherewasnothingmuchleft.Nothingyoucouldeatordrinkanyway.YoucouldswimacrosstoSantaCatalina,butthen,thatwasevensmaller,somainlywespentthedaysfishingandfindingfrondoystersinsmallpools,andoccasionallyhavingakindofsnarlingconfrontationwithgroupsofpassingnatives,ragged,wanderingcolonistsorturtlefishermen.Thecolonists,inparticular,alwaysworeawild,frightenedlook,asthoughtheyweren’tsurewhethertoattackorrunaway,andcouldjustaswelldoeither.Theireyesseemedtoswivelintheirsocketsindifferentdirectionsatonceandtheymadeodd,twitchymovementswithdry,sun-parchedlips.

IturnedtoCharlesVaneafteroneparticularencounter,abouttocomment,andsawthathetoowaswearingawildlook,andhiseyesseemedtoswivelintheirsockets,andhemadeodd,twitchymovementswithhisdry,sun-parchedlips.

UntilwhateverfragilecordholdingCharlesVanetogethersnappedoneday,andoffhewenttostartanewProvidenciatribe.Atribeofone.Ishouldhavetriedtotalkhimoutofit.“Charles,wemuststicktogether.”ButIwassicktothebackteethofCharlesVane,andanyway,itwasn’tlikeI’dseenthelastofhim.Hetooktostealingmyoystersforastart,scuttlingoutofthejungle,hairyandunshaven,hisclothesraggedandwiththelookofamadmaninhiseyes.He’dscoopupmyjust-caughtfrondoysters,cursemeforabastardthenscuttlebackintotheundergrowthfromwhichhewouldcursemesomemore.Mydayswerespentonthebeach,swimming,fishingorscanningthehorizonforvessels,allthetimeknowingfullwellhewastrackingmefromwithintheundergrowth.

OnoneoccasionItriedtoremonstratewithhim.“Willyoutalkwithme,Vane?Areyoufixedonthismadness?”

“Madness?”heresponded.“Ain’tnothingmadaboutamanfightingtosurvive,isthere?”

“Imeanyounoharm,youcorker.Let’sworkthisoutlikegentlemen.”“Ah.GodI’veabloodyheadacheonaccountofourjabbering.Nowstayback

andletmeliveinpeace!”“Iwouldifyou’dstopfilchingthefoodIgather,andthewaterIfind.”“I’llstopnothingtillyou’vepaidmebackinblood.Youwasthereasonwe

wereoutlookingforslavers.YouwasthereasonJackRackhamtookmyship!”YouseewhatIhadtocontendwith?Hewaslosinghismind.Heblamedme

forthingsthatwereplainlyhisownfault.ItwashewhohadsuggestedwegoafterTheObservatory.Itwashewho’dcausedourcurrentpredicamentbykillingtheslavercaptain.Ihadasmuchreasontohatehimashehadtodespiseme.ThedifferencebetweenuswasthatIhadn’tlostmymind.Atleastnotyet,anyway.Hewasdoinghisbesttoremedythat,itseemed.Hegotcrazierandcrazier.

“Youandyourfairytalesgotusintothismess,Kenway!”Hestayedinthebushes,likearodentinthedarkenedundergrowth,curledup

inroots,crouchedwithhisarmsaroundthetrunksoftrees,crouchedinhisownstinkandwatchingmewithcraveneyes.ItbegantooccurtomethatVanemighttrytokillme.IkeptmybladescleanandthoughIdidn’twearthem—I’dbecomeaccustomedtowearingverylittle—Ikeptthemcloseathand.

BeforeIknewithegraduatedfrombeingamadmanrantingatmefromwithintheundergrowthtoleavingtrapsforme.

UntilonedayIdecidedI’denough.IhadtokillCharlesVane.

•••

ThemorningthatIsetouttodoitwaswithaheavyheart.Iwonderedwhetheritwasbettertohaveamadmanasacompanionthannocompanionatall.Buthewasamadmanwhohatedme,andwhoprobablywantedtokillme.Itwaseithermeorhim.

Ifoundhiminawaterhole,sittingcrouchedwithhishandsbetweenhislegstryingtomakeafireandsingingtohimself,somenonsensesong.

Hisbackwasofferedtome,aneasykill,andItriedtotellmyselfIwasbeinghumanebyputtinghimoutofhismiseryasIapproachedstealthilyandactivatedmyblades.

ButIcouldn’thelpmyself.Ihesitated,andinthatmomenthesprunghistrap,flingingoutonearmandtossinghotashesintomyface.AsIreeledbackhejumpedtohisfeet,cutlassinhand,andthebattlewason.

Attack.Parry.Attack.Iusedmybladesasasword,meetinghissteelandreplyingwithmyown.

Iwondered:didhethinkofmeasbetrayinghim?Probably.Hishatredgavehimstrengthandforsomemomenthewasnolongerthepathetictroglodyte.ButweeksspentcrouchingintheundergrowthandfeedingoffwhathecouldstealhadweakenedhimandIdisarmedhimeasily.InsteadofkillinghimthenIsheathedmyblades,unstrappedthemandtossedthemaway,tearingoffmyshirtatthesametime,andwefoughtwithfists,strippedtothewaist.

WhenIhadhimdownIpummelledhim,thenIcaughtmyselfandstopped.Istood,breathingheavily,withblooddrippingfrommyfists.Belowmeontheground,CharlesVane.Thisunkempt,hermit-lookingman—and,ofcourse,Istankmyself,butIwasn’tasbadashim.IcouldsmelltheshitIsawdriedonhisthighsashehalf-rolledonthegroundandspatoutatoothonathinstringofsaliva,chucklingtohimself.Chucklingtohimselflikeamadman.

“YouNancyboy,”hesaid,“you’veonlydonehalfthejob.”Ishookmyhead.“Isthismyrewardforbelievingthebestaboutmen?For

thinkingabilgeratlikeyoucouldmusterupsomesenseonceinawhile?MaybeHornigoldwasright.Maybetheworlddoesneedmenofambition,tostopthelikesofyoufrommessingitallup.”

Charleslaughed.“Ormaybeyoujustdon’thavethestonestolivewithnoregrets.”

Ispat.“Don’tsavemeaspotinhell,shanker.Iain’tcomingsoon.”Ilefthimthereandlater,whenIwasabletohelpmyselftoafisherman’s

boat,Iwonderedwhethertogoandfetchhim,butdecidedagainst.Godforgiveme,butI’dhadjustaboutallIcouldtakeofCharlesbloody

Vane.

FORTY-EIGHT

MAY1719

IarrivedhometoInaguaaftermonthsaway,thankfultobealiveandgladtoseemycrew.EvenmorewhenIsawhowpleasedtheyweretoseeme.Heisalive!Thecap’nisalive!Theycelebratedfordays,drankthebaydry,anditgladdenedthehearttosee.

Marywastheretoo,butdressedasJamesKidd,soIbanishedallthoughtsofherbosoms,calledherJameswhenotherswerepresent,evenAdewalé,whorarelyleftmysidewhenIfirstreturned,asthoughnotwantingtoletmeoutofhissight.

MeanwhileMaryhadnewsofmyconfederates:StedeBonnethadbeenhungatWhitePoint.

PooroldStede.Mymerchantfriendwhoevidentlychangedhismindwherepirateswereconcerned—somuchsohe’dtakenupthelifehimself.“Thegentlemanpirate,”theyhadcalledhim.He’dwornadressing-gownandworkedtheroutesfurthernorthforawhile,beforemeetingBlackbeardonhistravels.Thepairhadteamedup,butbecauseBonnetwasasbadapiratecaptainashewasasailor,whichistosayaverybadpiratecaptain,hiscrewhadmutiniedandjoinedBlackbeard.ForBonnetthefinalinsultwasthathehadtoremainasa“guest”onBlackbeard’sship,theQueenAnne’sRevenge.Well,notthe“finalinsult”obviously.Thefinalinsultwasbeingcaughtandhung.

MeanwhileonNassau—poor,ailingNassau—JamesBonnywasspyingforWoodesRogers,bringingmoreshameuponAnnethanherrovingeyeeverhaduponhim,whileRogershadstruckamortalblowtothepirates.Inashowofstrengthhe’dorderedeightofthembehungonNassauharbour,andsincethenhisoppositionhadcrumbled.Evenaplottokillhimhadbeenhalf-heartedandeasilyoverthrown.

And—joyofjoys—CalicoJackhadbeencapturedandtheJackdawrecovered.TurnedouttheliquorhadgotthebetterofJack.PrivateerscommissionedbyJamaica’sgovernorhadcaughtupwithhimsouthofCuba.Jackandhismenhadgoneashoreandweresleepingofftheboozeundertentswhentheprivateersarrived,sotheyfledintothejungleandtheJackdawwasrecovered.SincethenthescurvydoghadcrawledbacktoNassauwherehe’dpersuadedRogerstogivehimapardonandwashangingaroundthetavernssellingstolenwatchesandstockings.

“Sowhatnow?”saidMary,havingdeliveredhernews.“Stillchasingyourelusivefortune?”

“Aye,andI’mclose.I’veheardTheSageissailingoutofKingstononashipcalledthePrincess.”

Maryhadstoodandwasbeginningtowalkaway,headedfortheport.“Putyourambitiontobetteruse,Kenway.FindTheSagewithus.”

TheAssassinsshemeant,ofcourse.TherewassilencewhenIthoughtaboutthem.

“I’venostomachforyouandyourmystics...Mary.Iwantatasteofthegoodlife.Aneasylife.”

Sheshookherheadandbegantowalkaway.Overhershouldershesaid,“Noonehonesthasaneasylife,Edward.It’sachingforonethatcausesthemostpain.”

•••

IfthePrincesswassailingoutofKingston,thenthatwaswhereIneededtobe.AndmyGod,Kingstonwasbeautiful.Ithadgrownfromarefugeecampinto

thelargesttowninJamaica,whichisn’ttosayitwasanespeciallylargetown,justthelargestinJamaica,thebuildingsnewyetrickety-looking,overlookedbyhillspopulatedbybeautifulgreeneryandcaressedbyacoolsea-breezethatrolledoffPortRoyalandtooksomeofthestingoutofablisteringsun—justsomeofit,mind.Ilovedit.InKingston,I’dlookaroundandwonderifNassaucouldhavebeenthisway,ifwe’dstuckatit.Ifwehadn’tallowedourselvestobesoeasilycorrupted.

Theseawastheclearestblueanditseemedtoglitterandholdalofttheshipsthatwereanchoredinthebay.Foramoment,asIgaspedatthebeautyoftheseaandwasremindedofthetreasuresitheld,IthoughtofBristol.HowI’dstoodontheharbourthereandlookedouttotheocean,dreamingofrichesandadventure.

TheadventureI’dfound.Theriches?Well,theJackdawhadn’tlaincompletelydormantduringmytimeonProvidencia.They’dtakensomeprizes.AddedtowhatIalreadyhadinmycoffers,Iwasn’trich,exactly,butneitherwasIpoor.PerhapsIwasfinallyamanofmeans.ButifIcouldjustfindTheObservatory.(Greed,yousee,mysweet,istheundoingofmanyaman.)Tetheredatthequaywererow-boats,dandiesandyawls,butitwasn’tthoseI

wasinterestedin.Istoppedandheldaspyglasstomyeye,scanningthehorizonforsignsofaslaver—thePrincess—stoppingtorelishtheglorioussightoftheJackdaw,thencontinued.Citizensandtradersbustledpast,allwaresforsale.Soldierstoo.Spaniards,withtheirbluetunicsandtricorns,musketsovertheirshoulders.Apairofthempassed,lookingboredandgossiping.

“What’sallthisfussabouthere?Everyone’sgotsticksshovedwelluptheirarsetoday.”

“Aye,we’reonalertbecauseofsomevisitingSpaniard.ToreadororTorresorsomething.”Sohewashere.HimandRogers.DidtheyknowaboutTheSageonthe

Princesstoo?Thensomethingstruckmeasveryinterestingindeed,whenIoverhearda

soldiersay,“DoyouknowwhatIheard?GovernorRogersandCaptainHornigoldarepartofasecretsociety.AsecretordermadeupofFrenchiesandSpaniardsandItaliansandevensomeTurks.”

Templars,Iwasthinking,evenasIcaughtsightofAdebeckoningtome.Hestoodwithasweaty,nervous-lookingsailor,whowasintroducedasworkingfortheRoyalAfricaCompany.Ajack-tarpersuadedtotalkwithasurreptitiousdaggerinhisribs.

“Tellhimwhatyoutoldme,”saidAde.Thesailorlookeduncomfortable.Asyouwould,Isuppose.“Ihaven’tseen

thePrincessforeightweeksormore,”hesaid.“Meaningshemaysoonbeback.”

WelethimgoandImulledoverthenews.ThePrincesswasn’there...yet.Wecouldstay,Idecided.Bringthemenashore,makesuretheybehavedthemselves,trynottoattracttoomuchattention...

Adewalépulledmetooneside.“Igrowtiredofchasingthesefantasiesofyours,Edward.Asdoesthecrew.”That’sallIneed.Unrestinthebloodycrew.“Hanginthere,man,”Ireassuredhim,“we’regettingclose.”

Meanwhile,Ihadanidea.FindRogersandBenjamin...

•••

BystickingclosetotheharbourIfoundthem,andbegantailingthem,rememberingwhatI’dbeentaughtbyMary.StayingoutofsightandusingtheSensetolistentotheirconversation.

“Haveyoualertedthemen?”WoodesRogerswassaying.“We’reshortontime.”

“Aye,”repliedHornigold,“there’llbetwosoldierswaitingforusatthecrossroads.”

“Verygood.”Ah,bodyguards.Nowwheremighttheybelurking?Notwantingtobetakenbysurprise,Iglancedaround.ButbythenHornigold

wasspeakingagain.“Ifyoudon’tmindmeasking,sir.What’sthemeaningbehindthesebloodsampleswe’retaking?”

“TorrestellsmethatbloodisrequiredforTheObservatorytoproperlyfunction.”

“Howdoyoumean,sir?”“IfonewishestouseTheObservatoryto,say...spyonKingGeorge,then

onewouldrequireadropoftheking’sbloodtodoso.Inotherwords,asmallsampleofbloodgivesusaccesstoaman’severydaylife.”

Mumbojumbo.Ipaiditlittlemindatthetime,butI’dregretthatlater.“DoesTorresmeantospyonme,then?”Benjaminwassaying.“ForIhave

justgivenhimasampleofmyownblood.”“AshaveI,CaptainHornigold.AswillallTemplars.Asameasureof

insurance.”“Andtrust,Ireckon.”“Yes,butfearnot.TorreshasshippedoursamplestoaTemplarbaseinRiode

Janeiro.WewillnotbeTheObservatory’sfirstsubjects,Iassureyou.”“Aye,sir.Isupposeit’sasmallpricetopayforwhattheTemplarshavegiven

meinreturn.”“Precisely...”“Andwhatcanwedoforyou?”avoiceasked.AndthatwaswhenImetthetwobodyguardstheyweretalkingabout.

FORTY-NINE

Let’scallthembrutenumberoneandbrutenumbertwo.Brutenumberonewasleft-handedbutwantedmetothinkhe’dleadwithhisright.Brutenumbertwowasnotquiteascombatproficient.Toorelaxed.ThoughtI’dbeeasilybeaten.

“Nowwherewouldyoubegoing?”saidnumberone.“BecausemyfriendandIhavebeenwatchingyou,andyou’llhavetoforgivemeforsayingbutitlooksawfullylikeyou’refollowingMr.RogersandMr.Hornigoldandlisteninginontheirconversation...”

TheMr.RogersandMr.Hornigoldinquestionwereoblivioustotheworktheirguardsweredoingontheirbehalf.Thatwasgood.Whatwasn’tquitesogoodwasthattheyweremovingoff,andIstillhadmuchtolearn.Sogetridoftheseguys.TheadvantageIhadwasmyhiddenblade.Itwasstrappedtomyrighthand.

MyswordhungonthatsidetoosoIwouldreachforitwithmyleft.Anexperiencedswordsmanwouldexpectmyattacktocomefromthatsideandwoulddefendhimselfaccordingly.Bigbrutenumberone,hewasanexperiencedswordsman.Icouldseebythewayhe’dplantedonefootslightlyinfrontoftheotherandangledhisbodyside-onbecausebigbrutenumberonewasexpectingmyswordtobedrawnwithmylefthand(andyet,whenthetimecamehewouldquicklyswitchfeet,feintingtotakemefromadifferentside—Iknewthattoo).NeitherknewIhadahiddenblade,whichwouldsproutfrommyright.

Sowestaredatoneanother.Mainlymeandbigbrutenumberone.Imademymove.Righthandoutstretchedasthoughinprotection,butthen—engageblade,strike—andbrutenumbertwowasstillreachingforhisownswordwhenitpiercedhisneck.AtthesametimeI’dsnatchedmyswordfrommybeltwithmylefthandandwasabletodefendbigbrutenumberone’sfirstattack,ourswordsclashingwiththeforceoffirstimpact.

Bigbrutenumbertwogurgledanddied,thebloodpumpingthroughfingersheheldtohisownthroat,andnowwewereonequalfooting.Ibrandished

bladesandswordatbigbrutenumberoneandsawthatthelookhe’dworn,alookofconfidence—youmightevensayarrogance—hadbeenreplacedbyfear.

Heshouldhaverun.Iprobablywouldhavecaughthim,butheshouldhaverunanyway.Shouldhavetriedtowarnhislordsandmastersthatamanwasfollowingthem.AdangerousmanwiththeskillsofanAssassin.

Buthedidn’trun.Hestoodtofight,andthoughhewasamanofskillandfoughtwithmoreintelligenceandmorebraverythanIwasusedto,itwasthatpridehecouldnotbeartosacrificeonthestreetsofKingstonwithacrowdofpeoplelookingonthatultimatelywashisundoing.Whentheendcame,whichitdid,butonlyafterahard-foughtbattle,Imadesurethatforhimtheendwasswift,hispainkepttoaminimum.

ThebystandersshrankbackasImademyescape,swallowedupbythedocks,hopingtocatchRogersandHornigold.Imadeit,arrivingataquaysideandcrouchingbesidetwodrunksattheharbourwallastheymetanotherman.LaureanoTorres.Theygreetedeachotherwithnods.Supremelyawareoftheirownimportance.Iduckedmyhead—groan,hadtoomuchrum—ashisgazesweptpastwhereIsat,thenhedeliveredhisnews.

“ThePrincesswastakenbypiratessixweeksago,”hesaid.“Insofarasweknow,TheSage,Roberts,wasstillaboard.”

Icursedtomyself.Ifonlythemenknewhowclosethey’dbeentoashortholidayinKingston.Butthismeantthatweweregoingtohavetohuntpirates.

ThentheywalkedandIstoodandjoinedthecrowds,following,invisible.UsingtheSense.Hearingeverythingtheysaid.“WhatofTheSage’spresentlocation?Doweknow?”askedTorres.

“Africa,yourExcellency,”saidRogers.“Africa...ByGod,thewindsdonotfavourthatroute.”“Iconcur,GrandMaster.Ishouldhavesailedtheremyself.Oneofmyslave

galleyswouldbemorethancapableofmakingaswiftjourney.”“Slavegalley?”saidTorres,nothappy.“Captain,Iaskedyoutodivest

yourselfofthatsickinstitution.”“Ifailtoseethedifferencebetweenenslavingsomemenandallmen,”said

Rogers.“Ouraimistosteertheentirecourseofcivilization,isitnot?”“Abodyenslavedinspiresthemindtorevolt,”saidTorrescurtly,“butenslave

aman’smindandhisbodywilltrotalongnaturally.”Rogersconceded.“Afairpoint,GrandMaster.”Nowtheyhadreachedtheperimeterofthedocks,wheretheystoppedatthe

entrancetoadilapidatedwarehouse,watchingtheactivitiesinsidetheopendoor.

Menseemedtobedisposingofbodies,eitherclearingthemfromthewarehouseorputtingthemtooneside,perhapsforloadingontoacartorship.Or,whatwasmorelikely,tippingthemstraightintothesea.

TorresaskedthequestionIwantedansweredmyself.“Whathashappenedhere?”

Rogerssmiledthinly.“Theseweremenwhoresistedourgenerousrequestsforblood.Piratesandprivateersmostly.”

Torresnodded.“Isee.”Itightenedatthethought,lookedatthebodies,crookedarmsandcrooked

legs,unseeingeyes.Mennodifferentthanme.“IhavebeenusingmyKing’sPardonasanexcusetocollectsamplesfromas

manymenaspossible,”saidRogers.“Whentheyrefuse,Ihangthem.Allwithintheboundariesofmymandate,ofcourse.”

“Good.Forifwecannotkeepwatchonalltheworld’sscoundrels,thentheseasshouldberidofthementirely.”

Nowtheymovedon,headingtowardsthegang-boardofashipmoorednearby.Ifollowed,dartingbehindastackofcratestolisten.

“Remindme,”saidTorres.“WhereinAfricaarewelooking?”“Principé,sir.Asmallisland,”saidHornigold.TorresandRogersstrodeupthegang-boardbutHornigoldhungback.Why?

Whywashehangingback?AndnowIsaw.Withsquintedeyes,thepractisedlookofaseafarer,hescannedthehorizonandstudiedtheshipsanchoredlikesentinelsintheglitteringocean,andhiseyesalightedononeshipinparticular.Andthenwithalurchofshock,Irealizedwherewewere—withinsightoftheJackdaw.

Hornigoldtensed,hishandwenttothehiltofhisswordandheturnedaroundslowly.Hewaslookingforme,Iknew,guessingthatwherevertheJackdawwas,Iwouldn’tbefaraway.

“EdwardKenway,”hecalledout,ashisgazepassedaroundthedocks.“ImaginemysurpriseatseeingyourJackdawanchoredhere.Haveyouheardallyoucametohear?WillyounowgoandrescuethepoorSagefromourclutchinghands?”

Inretrospectitwasabitrash,whatIdidnext.ButIwasunabletothinkofanythingbutthefactthatBenjaminhadbeenoneofus.Oneofmymentors,afriendofEdwardThatch.Nowheworkedtotryanddestroyus.AllofthatbubbledtothesurfaceinarageasIemergedfrombehindthecratestofacehim.

“Apoxonyou,traitor.You’vebetrayedus!”

“BecauseIfoundabetterpath,”saidHornigold.Insteadofdrawinghisweaponhesignalledwithhishand.FromthewarehousebehindIheardthesoundofswordsbeingdrawn.

Hornigoldcontinued.“TheTemplarsknoworder,discipline,structure.Butyounevercouldfathomthesesubtleties.Good-bye,oldfriend!Youwereasoldieronce!Whenyoufoughtforsomethingreal.Somethingbeyondyourself!”

Heleft,almostbreakingintoarun.Fromthewarehousecamehisreinforcementsandthemenclosedinbehindhim,formingacrescentaroundme.

Takingthembysurprise,Istartedquicklyforward,grabbedasailorwhowavedhisswordtonoparticulareffectandspanhim,usinghimasashieldandpushinghimforwardsothathisbootsskiddedontheharbourstone.

AtthesametimetherewasthecrackofapistolandmyhumanshieldtookamusketballthatwasmeantformebeforeIshovedhimintothelineofmenandwithmylefthandsnatchedoutmyfirstpistol.Ishotaheavyinthemouth,holstereditandsnatchedmysecondatthesametimeasIengagedthebladeandslicedopenathirdman’schest.Dischargedthepistol.Awaywardshot,itneverthelessdidthejobandstoppedamanbearingacutlassandsenthimfallingtothegroundwithhishandsathisstomach.

Icrouchedandwhirled,takingthelegsfrombeneaththenextman,finishedhimwithaquickandruthlessblade-punchtothechest.ThenIwasonmyfeet,scatteringthelasttwomen,theirfacesportraitsinterror,notwishingtojointheircomradesdeadorbleedingontheharbourfloor,andranformyrow-boattogetbacktotheJackdaw.

AsIworkedtheoarsbacktowheremyshipwasmooredIcouldimaginetheconversationwithmyquartermaster;howhe’dremindmethatthemendidn’tapproveofmyquest.

They’dapprove,though,oncewefoundTheObservatory.OncewefoundTheSage.

Andittookmeamonth,butIdid.

FIFTY

JULY1719

IfoundhimonPrincipé,oneafternoon,inacampfullofcorpses.Now,here’swhatI’dlearntaboutTheSage,whosefullnameIlearnedwas

BartholomewRoberts,someofwhichwaslatertoldtomebyhim,somebyothers.

WhatIlearntwasthatwehadsomethingincommon:wewerebothWelsh,mefromSwansea,himfromCasnewyddBach,andthathehadchangedhisnamefromJohntoBartholomew.Thathehadgonetoseawhenhewasjustthirteen,asacarpenter,beforefindinghimselfanobjectofinterestforthissecretsocietyknownastheTemplars.

Atthebeginningof1719,withtheTemplarsandtheAssassinsonhistail,TheSagehadfoundhimselfservingasathirdmateonthePrincess,justasI’dbeentold,servingunderCaptainAbrahamPlumb.

AsI’dlearntinKingston,inearlyJunethePrincesshadbeenattackedbypiratesintheRoyalRoverandtheRoyalJames,ledbyCaptainHowellDavis.Somehow,Roberts,wilyoperatorthathewas,hadinveigledhimselfinwithCaptainHowellDavis.He’dconvincedthepiratecaptain,alsoaWelshman,asithappens,thathewasasuperbnavigator,whichhemightwellhavebeen,buthewasalsoabletotalktoCaptainDavisinWelsh,whichcreatedafurtherbondbetweenthetwomen.

ItwassaidthatBartRobertswasnotkeenonbecomingapirateatfirst.Butasyou’llsee,hetooktohisnewjoblikehewasborntoit.

TheylandedonPrincipé.TheRoyalRover,thiswas,whatwiththeRoyalJameshavingtobeabandonedwithwormdamage.So,theRoyalRoverheadedforPrincipé,andbyhoistingBritishcolours,wasallowedtodock,wherethecrewplayedthepartofvisitingEnglishsailors.

Now,accordingtowhatIheard,CaptainDaviscameupwithaplantoinvitethegovernorofPrincipéonboardtheRoveronthepretextofgivinghimlunch,andthenassoonashewasaboardtakehimhostageanddemandahugeransomforhisrelease.Perfect.Couldn’tfail.ButwhenDavistookmentomeetthegovernor,theywereambushedalong

theway.WhichwaswhereIcamein.Icreptintothecamp,intothedesertedsceneoftheambush,wherethefire

hadburneddowntoredembersandscatteredaroundit,onemanactuallylyinginthedyingredembersofthefire,hiscorpseslowlycooking.Scatteredaroundweremorebodies.Someweresoldiers,somewerepirates.

“CaptainKenway?”cameavoice,andIspanaroundtoseehimthere:TheSage.PerhapsIwouldhavebeenpleasedtoseehim;perhapsIwouldhavethoughtmyjourneywasatanend.Ifhehadn’tbeenpointingagunatme.

AttheinsistenceofhisgunbarrelIputmyhandsintheair.“Anotherdiresituation,Roberts.Wemuststopmeetinglikethis.”Hesmiledgrimly.Doeshebearmeanyillwill?Iwondered.Hehadnoidea

ofmyplans,afterall.AcrazypartofmerealizedthatIwouldn’thavebeensurprisedifhecouldreadminds.

“Stopfollowingmeandyourwishwouldcometrue,”hesaid.“There’snoneedforthis.YouknowI’masgoodasmyword.”Aroundusthejunglewassilent.BartholomewRobertsseemedtobethinking.

Itwasodd,Imused.Neitherofusreallyhadthemeasureoftheother.Neitherofusreallyknewwhattheotheronewanted.IknewwhatIwantedfromhim,ofcourse.Butwhatabouthim?Whatdidhewant?Isensedthatwhateveritwas,itwouldbemoredarkandmoremysteriousthanIcouldpossiblyimagine.AllIknewforsurewasthatdeathfollowedBartRobertsandIwasn’treadytodie.Notyet.

Hespoke.“OurCaptainHowellwaskilledtodayinaPortugueseambush.Headstrongfool.Iwarnedhimnottocomeashore.”

ItwastotherecentlydeceasedcaptainthatBartholomewRoberts’sthoughtswentnow.EvidentlydecidingIwasnotathreat,heholsteredhispistol.

And,ofcourse,theattack.IthoughtIknewwhowasbehindit.“ItwasorchestratedbytheTemplars,”Itoldhim.“Thesamesortwhotook

youtoHavana.”Hislonghairshookashenodded,seemingtothinkatthesametime.“Isee

nowthereisnoescapingtheTemplars’attention,isthere?Isupposeitistimetofightback?”Nowyou’retalking,Ithought.Aswe’dbeenspeakingI’dwatchedhimpeeloffhissailorsragsandpullon

firstthebreechesofthedeadcaptain,thenmovetotaketheshirtaswell.Theshirtwasblood-stainedsohediscardedit,puthisownbackon,thenhunchedhisshouldersintothecaptain’scoat.Hepulledthetiefromhishairandshookitfree.Hepoppedthecaptain’stricornonhisheadanditsfeatherwaftedasheturnedtofaceme.ThiswasadifferentBartholomewRoberts.Histimeaboardshiphadputhealthbackinhischeeks.Hisdark,curlylocksshoneinthesunandhestoodresplendentinaredjacketandbreeches,whitestockings,withahattomatch.Helookedeveryinchthebuccaneer.Helookedeveryinchthepiratecaptain.

“Now,”hesaid,“wemustgobeforePortuguesereinforcementsarrive.WemustgetbacktotheRover.IhaveanannouncementtomaketherethatI’dlikeyoutowitness.”

IthoughtIknewwhatitwas,andIwassurprisedinoneway—hewasbutalowlydeck-hand,afterall—butunsurprisedalso,becausethiswasRoberts.TheSage.Thetricksuphissleevewerenever-ending.Sureenough,whenwearrivedattheRover,wherethemenwaitednervouslyfornewsoftheexpedition,heleaptuptoacratetocommandtheirattention.Theygoggledathimupthere:thelowlydeck-hand,anewarrivalonboardtoboot,nowresplendentinthecaptain’sclothes.

“Inhonestservicetherearethincommons,lowwagesandhardlabor.Yetasgentlemenoffortuneweenjoyplentyandsatisfaction,pleasureandease,libertyandpower...sowhatmanwithasensiblemindwouldchoosetheformerlife,whentheonlyhazardwepiratesrunisasourlookfromthosewithoutstrengthorsplendour.

“Now,Ihavebeenamongyousixweeks,andinthattimehaveadoptedyouroutlookasmyown,andwithsofierceaconvictionthatitmayfrightenyoutoseeyourpassionsreflectedfrommeinsostarkalight.But...ifit’sacaptainyouseeinmenow,ayethen...I’llbeyourbloodycaptain!”

Youhadtohandittohim,itwasarousingspeech.Inafewshortsentencesproclaiminghiskinship,hehadthesemeneatingoutofthepalmofhishand.AsthemeetingbrokeupIapproached,decidingnowwasthetimetomakemyplay.

“I’mlookingforTheObservatory,”Itoldhim.“Folkssayyou’retheonlymanthatcanfindit.”

“Folksarecorrect.”Helookedmeupanddownasiftoconfirmhisimpressions.“Despitemy

distasteforyoureagerness,Iseeinyouatouchofuntestedgenius.”Heheldouthishandtoshake.“I’mBartholomewRoberts.”

“Edward.”“I’venosecretstosharewithyounow,”hetoldme.Istaredathim,unabletobelievewhatIwashearing.Hewasgoingtomake

mewait.

FIFTY-ONE

SEPTEMBER1719

Damntheman.DamnRoberts.Hewantedmetowaittwomonths.Twowholemonths.Thenmeethimwest

oftheLeewardIslands,eastofPuertoRico.Withonlyhiswordtotakeforthat,IsailedtheJackdawbacktoSanInagua.ThereIrestedthecrewforawhile,andwetookprizeswhenwecould,andmycoffersswelled,anditwasduringthatperiod,Ithink,thatIcutoffthenoseoftheship’scook.

Whenweweren’ttakingprizesandwhenIwasn’tslicingoffnoses,Ibroodedatmyhomestead.IwroteletterstoCarolineinwhichIassuredherIwouldsoonbereturningasamanofwealth,andIfrettedoverTheObservatory,onlytooawarethatwithitlayallmyhopesofafortune.ItwasbuiltonnothingmorethanapromisefromBartholomewRoberts.

Andthenwhat?TheObservatorywasaplaceofenormouspotentialwealthbutevenifIfoundit—evenifBartRobertscamegoodonhisword—itremainedonlyasourceofpotentialwealth.Wasn’titEdwardwhohadscoffedattheveryidea?Golddoubloonswaswhatwewanted,he’dsaid.Perhapshewasright.EvenifIfoundthisamazingmachine,howthebloodyhellwasIgoingtoconvertitintothewealthIhopedtoacquire?Afterall,iftherewererichestobemade,thenwhyhadn’tRobertsmadethem?Becausehehassomeotherpurpose.Ithoughtofmyparents.Mymindwentbacktotheburningofourfarmhouse

andIthoughtanewofstrikingablowattheTemplars,thissecretsocietywhouseditsinfluenceandpowertogrinddownanyonewhodispleasedit;toexerciseagrudge.Istillhadnoideaexactlywhowasbehindtheburningofmyfarmhouse.Orwhy.WasitagrudgeagainstmeformarryingCarolineandhumiliatingMatthewHague?Oragainstmyfather,merebusinessrivalry?

Probablyboth,wasmysuspicion.PerhapstheKenways,thesearrivalsfromWales,whohadshamedthemso,simplydeservedtobetakendownapegortwo.

Iwouldfindoutforsure,Idecided.IwouldreturntoBristolonedayandexactmyrevenge.

OnthatIbroodedtoo.UntilthedaycameinSeptemberwhenIgatheredthecrewandwereadiedtheJackdaw,newlycaulked,itsmastsandriggingrepaired,itsshroudsready,itsgalleystockedandthemunitionsatcapacity,andwesetsailforourappointmentwithBartholomewRoberts.

•••

LikeIsay,Idon’tthinkIevertrulyknewwhatwasonhismind.Hehadhisownagendaandwasn’tabouttoshareitwiththelikesofme.Whathedidliketodo,however,waskeepmeguessing.Keepmehangingon.Whenwe’dpartedhe’dtoldmehehadbusinesstoattendto,whichIlaterfoundoutinvolvedtakinghisowncrewbacktoPrincipéandexactinghisrevengeforthedeathofCaptainHowellDavisonthepeopleoftheisland.

They’dattackedatnight,puttotheswordasmanymenastheycould,andmadeoff,notonlywithasmuchtreasureastheycouldcarrybutthebeginningsofBlackBart’sfearsomereputation:unknowable,braveandruthless,andapttocarryoffdaringraidssuchastheonewewereabouttocarryout,forexample.TheonethatbeganwithRobertsinsistingthattheJackdawjoinhimonajauntaroundthecoastofBraziltotheTodososSantosBay.

Wedidn’thavelongtofindoutthereasonwhy.Afleetofnolessthanforty-twoPortuguesemerchantships.What’smore,withnonavyescorts.Robertslostnotimeincapturingoneoftheoutlyingvesselsto“holdtalks”withthecaptain.Itwasn’tsomethingIgotinvolvedwith,butfromthebruisedPortuguesenavalofficerhe’dlearntthattheflagshiphadonitachest,acofferthat,hetoldme,contained“crystalvialsfilledwithblood.Youmayremember.”

Vialsofblood.HowcouldIforget?

•••

WeanchoredtheJackdawandItookAdewaléandaskeletoncrewtojoinRobertsonhispurloinedPortuguesevessel.Uptonowwe’dremainedatthefringesofthefleet,butnowitseemedtosplitup,andwesawourchance.Theflagshipwastestingherguns.

Anchoredsomedistanceaway,wewatched,andBartholomewlookedatme.“Areyoustealthy,EdwardKenway?”“ThatIam,”Isaid.HelookedovertothePortuguesegalleon.Itwasanchorednotfarfromland,

withmostofthecrewonthegun-deckfiringinland,carryingoutexercises.Neverwasthereabettertimetostealaboard,soatanodfromBartRobertsIdivedoverboardandswamtothegalleon,onamissionofdeath.

ClimbingupaJacob’sladderIfoundmyselfondeck,whereImovedquietlyalongtheplankstothefirstman,engagedmyblade,sweptitquicklyacrosshisthroat,thenhelpedhimtothedeckandheldmyhandoverhismouthwhilehedied.

AllthetimeIkeptmyeyesonthelookoutsandcrow’s-nestabove.Idisposedofasecondsentrythesameway,thenbeganscalingtheriggingto

thecrow’s-nest.Therealookoutscannedthehorizon,hisspyglassmovingfromlefttoright,pastRoberts’sshipandbackagain.

HefocusedonRoberts’svessel,hisgazelingeredonit,andIwonderedifhissuspicionswerechurning.Perhapsso.Perhapshewaswonderingwhythemenonboarddidn’tlooklikePortuguesemerchantmen.Heseemedtodecide.HeloweredthespyglassandIcouldseehischestinflateasthoughhewereabouttocallout,justasIsprangintothelookoutposition,grabbedhisarmandslidmybladeintohisarmpit.

IsweptmyotherarmacrosshisnecktosilenceanycriesasbloodgushedfrombeneathhisarmandhebreathedhislastasIlethimfoldtothewellofthecrow’s-nest.

Thataccomplished,Bart’sshipcamealongside,andasIdescendedtherat-linesthetwoshipsbumpedandhismenbeganpouringoverthesides.

Ahatchinthequarter-deckopenedandPortuguesesailorsappeared,buttheystoodnochance.Theirthroatswerecut,theirbodiesthrownoverboard.InamatterofafewbloodymomentsthegalleonwascontrolledbyBartRoberts’smen.Fatlotofgoodtheirguntraininghaddone.

Everythingthatcouldbepillagedwaspillaged.Adeck-handwhodraggedthecofferondeckandgrinnedathiscaptain,hopingforsomewordsofpraise,gotnone.Robertsignoredhimandindicatedforthechesttobeloadedonhisstolenship.

Then,suddenly,cameashoutfromthelookouts,“Sailho!”andinthenextinstantwewerepilingbacktothestolenship,someoftheslowmenevenfallingtotheseaasRoberts’sshippulledawayfromtheflagshipandwesetsail,two

Portuguesenavalwarshipsbearingdownuponus.Therewasthepopofmusketsbuttheyweretoofarawaytodoanydamage.

ThankGodwewereinastolenPortugueseship;theyhadnodesiretofiretheircarriagegunsatus.Notyet.Probablytheyhadn’tworkeditoutyet.Probablytheywerestillwonderingwhatthebloodyhellwasgoingon.

Wecamearoundthebay,sailspregnantwithwind,mendashingbelowdeckstomantheguns.AheadofuswasanchoredtheJackdaw,andIprayedthatAdewaléhadorderedlookoutsandthankedGodmyquartermasterwasanAdewaléandnotaCalicoJack,andsowouldhavemadesurethelookoutswereposted.IprayedthatthoseverylookoutswouldatthisverymomentberelayingthenewsthatRoberts’svesselwasspeedingtowardsthemwiththePortugueseNavyinpursuitandthattheywouldatthisverymomentbemanningtheirpositionsandweighinganchor.

Theywere.Eventhoughwewerebeingpursued,Istillhadtimetoadmirewhattomy

eyesisoneofthemostbeautifulsightsofthesea.TheJackdaw,menonitsrigging,itssailsunfurlinggracefully,beingsecured,thenbloomingwithanoiseIcouldhearevenfrommyvantagepointfaraway.

Still,ourspeedmeantwecaughtthemsmartly,justastheJackdawwasgainingspeedherself,andafterexchangingquickwordswithRobertsIstoodonthepoopdeckandmymindreturnedtothesightofDuncanWalpole,hewhohadbegunthiswholejourney,asIleaptfromthepoopofRobert’sshipbackontotheJackdaw.

“Ah,there’snothinglikethehotwindsofhellblowinginyourface!”IheardRobertscryasIcrouchedandwatchedasourtwovesselspeeledapart.Igaveorderstomanthesterngunsbelow.ThePortuguesereluctancetoopenfirewasover,buttheirhesitancyhadcostthemdear,foritwastheJackdawwhotookfirstblood.

Iheardoursterngunsboom,thenspinbackacrossthedeckbelow.Isawhotmetalspeedoverthefaceoftheoceanandslamintotheleadingship,sawsplintersflyfromjaggedholesinthebowandalongthehull,menandbitsofmenjoiningthedebrisalreadylitteringthesea.ThebowgainedwingsoffoamasitdippedandIcouldimaginethescenebelowdecks,menatthepumps,butthevesselwasalreadyshippingtoomuchwaterandsoon...

Sheturnedinthewater,listing,hersailsflattening.Acheerwentupfrommymenbutfromaroundhercamethesecondship,andthatwaswhenBartholomewRobertsdecidedtotesthisownguns.

Hisshotfounditsmark,justasminehad,andoncemoreweweretreatedtothesightofthePortuguesevesselploughingon,evenasthebowspritdippedandthebowsank,herhulllookingasthoughithadbeenthevictimofagiantsharkattack.

Soonbothshipswereseriouslyfloundering,thesecondonemorebadlydamagedthanthefirst,andboatswerebeinglaunched,menwerejumpingoverthesideandthePortugueseNavyhad,forthetimebeingatleast,forgottenaboutus.

Wesailed,celebratingforsomehoursuntilRobertscommandedbothvesselstodropanchorandIstoodalertonthequarter-deckwondering,Whatnow?

I’dprimedmypistols,andmybladewasattheready,andviaAdewaléI’dtoldthecrewthatiftherewereanysignsofabetrayaltheyweretofighttosavethemselves,don’tsurrendertoRoberts,nomatterwhat.I’dseenhowhetreatedthoseheconsideredhisenemy.I’dseenhowhetreatedhisprisoners.

Now,though,hecalledmeacross,havinghismenontherat-linesswingmealinesothatfirstI,thenAdewalé,couldcrosstohisship.Istoodonthedeckandfacedhim,atensionintheair,sothickyoucouldalmosttasteit,becauseifRobertsdidplantobetrayus,thenthatwasthetime.Myhandflexedatmyblademechanism.

WhateverRobertswasplanning—anditwassafetosaythathewasplanningsomething—itwasn’tforjustthen.Atawordfromhim,twoofhiscrewmatescameforwardwiththechestwehadliberatedfromthePortugueseflagship.

“Here’smyprize,”saidRoberts,withhiseyesonme.Itwasacofferfullofblood.Thatwaswhathehadpromised.HardlythegrandprizeIwasafter.Butwewouldsee.Wewouldsee.

Thetwohandssetdownthechestandopenedit.AsthecrewgatheredIwasremindedofthedayIhadfoughtBlaneyonthedeckofEdwardThatch’sgalleonandtheygatheredroundtowatchus.Theydidthesamenow.Theyclamberedonmastandintheriggingandstoodonthegunwalesinordertogetabetterlookastheircaptainreachedintothechestandpickedoutoneofthevialsandexamineditinthelight.

Amurmurofdisappointmentranaroundthosewatching.Nogoldforyou,lads.Nosilverpiecesofeight.Sorry.JustvialsthatprobablytotheuntrainedeyemighthavebeenwinebutthatIknewwereblood.

Oblivioustohiscrew’sdisappointmentandnodoubtuncaringofitanyway,Robertswasexaminingthevials,onebyone.

“AlltheTemplarshavebeenbusy,Isee...”Hereplacedavialwithnimble

fingersthatdancedovertheglitteringcrystalsashepickedoutanotherone,heldituptothelightandexaminedit.Aroundusthemen,disconsolatewiththeturnofevents,begandescendingtherat-lines,jumpeddownfromthegunwalesandbegantogoabouttheirbusiness.

Robertssquintedasheheldupyetanothercrystal.“LaurensPrins’sblood,”hesaidtome,thentossedittome.“Uselessnow.”IstaredcarefullyatitasRobertscycledquicklythroughthecontentsofthe

coffer,callingoutnames,“WoodesRogers.BenHornigold.EvenTorreshimself.Smallquantities,keptforaspecialpurpose.”SomethingtodowithTheObservatory.Butwhat?Thetimefortauntingme

withpromiseswasover.Ifeltangerbeginningtorise.Mostofhismenhadgonebacktowork,thequartermasterandfirstmatestoodnearby,butIhadAdewalé.Maybe,justmaybe,itwastimetoshowBartholomewRobertshowseriousIwas.MaybeitwastimetoshowhimthatIwassickandtiredofbeingmessedaroundwith.MaybeitwastimetousemybladetoinsistthathetellmewhatIwanted.

“YoumusttakemetoTheObservatory,Roberts,”Isaidfirmly.“Ineedtoknowwhatitis.”

Robertstwinkled.“Towhatend,hey?Willyousellitfromundermynose?Orworkwithmeanduseittobolsterourgains?”

“Whateverimprovesmylotinlife,”Isaidguardedly.Heclosedthechestwithasnapandplacedbothhandsonthecurvedlid.

“Howridiculous.Amerrylifeandashortlife,that’smymotto.It’salltheoptimismIcanmuster.”

Heseemedtoconsider.Iheldmybreath,again,thatthought,Whatnow?Thenhelookedatmeandthemischievouslookinhiseyeshaddeparted,initsplaceablankstare.“Allright,CaptainKenway.You’veearnedalook.”

Ismiled.Atlast.

FIFTY-TWO

“Canyoufeelit,Adewalé,”Isaidtohim,aswefollowedtheRoveraroundthecoastofBrazil.“We’remomentsawayfromthegrandestprizeofall.”

“Ifeelnothingbuthotwindinmyears,Captain,”hesaidenigmatically,faceinthewind,sippingatthebreeze.

Ilookedathim.OnceagainIfeltalmostoverpoweredwithadmirationforhim.Herewasamanwhohadprobablysavedmylifeonhundredsofoccasionsanddefinitelysavedmylifeonatleastthree.Herewasthemostloyal,committedandtalentedquartermasteracaptaincouldeverhave;whohadescapedslaveryyetstillhadtodealwiththejibesofcommonmutineerslikeCalicoJack,whothoughtthemselvesabovehimbecauseofhiscolour.Herewasamanwhohadovercomeallthebilgelifehadthrownathim,anditwasalotofbilge,thekindthatonlyamansoldasaslavewilleverknow.AmanwhostoodbymysideontheJackdawdayafterdayanddemandednogreatprizes,norich-makinghaul,demandedlittlebuttherespecthedeserved,enoughofthesharestoliveon,aplacetoresthishead,andamealmadebyacookwithoutanose.

HowhadIrepaidthisman?BygoingonandonandonaboutTheObservatory.Andstillgoingonaboutit.“Comeon,man.Whenwetakethistreasure,we’llbesetforlife.Allofus.

Tentimesover.”Henodded.“Asyouwish.”BythentheJackdawwasnotfarfromtheRoverandIlookedacrossthedeck

toseetheircaptain,justashelookedovertoseeme.“Ahoy,Roberts!”Icalledover.“We’llcastanchorandmeetashore.”“Youwerefollowed,CaptainKenway.Howlongfor,Iwonder?”IsnatchedthespyglassfromAdewaléandscuttleduptherat-lines,

shoulderingasidethelookoutinthecrow’s-nestandputtingthespyglasstomyeyes.

“Whatdoyouthinkthatis,lad?”Isnarledatthelookout.Hewasyoung—asyoungasIwaswhenIhadfirstjoinedthecrewofthe

Emperor.“It’saship,sir,butthereareplentyofvesselsinthesewaters,andIdidn’tthinkitcloseenoughtoraisethealarm.”

Isnappedtheglassshutandglaredathim.“Youdidn’tthinkatall,didyou?Thatshipoutthereisn’tanyothership,son,it’stheBenjamin.”

Theladpaled.“Aye,that’sright,theBenjamin,captainedbyoneBenjaminHornigold.If

they’venotcaughtupwithusthenit’sbecausetheyhaven’twantedtocatchupwithusyet.”

Ibegantomakemywaydowntherat-lines,pausing.WhileI’dlookedattheBenjaminI’dseenthereturningglintofaspyglassfromthetopofhermainmast.

“Callitthen,lad,”Ishouteduptothelookout.“Soundthealarm,lateasitis.”“Sailho!”TheCubancoastwastoourstarboard,theBenjaminbehindus.ButnowI

wasatthetiller,andIhauledherover,theruddercomplainingassheturned,themenreachingforahandholdasourmastsswung,ourportsidedippedandwebegantocomearound,untilthemanoeuvrewascompleteandthemenwerecomplainingandmoaningastheoarsweredeployed,thesailsreefedandwebeganatrudgeaimedatmeetingtheBenjaminhead-on.Youwon’tbeexpectingthat,willyou,Benjamin?

“Captain,thinkcarefullyaboutwhatyoumeantodohere,”saidAdewalé.“Whatareyougripingabout,Adewalé?It’sBenHornigoldcometokillus

outthere.”“Aye,andthattraitorneedstodie.Butwhatthen?Canyousaywithcertainty

thatyoudeserveTheObservatorymorethanheandhisTemplars?”“No,Ican’tandIdon’tcaretotry.Butifyou’veabetteridea,byallmeans

tellme.”“ForgetworkingwithRoberts,”hesaidwithasuddensurgeofpassion,

somethingI’drarelyseenfromhim,suchacoolheadusually.“TelltheAssassins.BringthemhereandletthemprotectTheObservatory.”

“Aye,I’llbringthemhere.Ifthey’rewillingtopaymeagoodsumforit,Iwill.”

Hemadeadisgustednoiseandwalkedaway.AheadofustheBenjaminhadturned—Hornigoldwithnostomachfora

fight,itseemed—andwesawthemeninhermastssecuringthesails.Oarsappearedandweresoonspankingthewater,ourtwoshipsinarowingracenow.

ForlongmomentsallIcouldhearwastheshoutofthecoxswain,thecreakoftheship,thesplashofthesweepersinthewater,asIstoodatthebowoftheJackdawandHornigoldstoodatthesternoftheBenjamin,andwestaredatoneanother.

Asweraced,thesundippedbelowthehorizon,flickeringorangethelastofitslightasnightfellandbroughtwithitawindfromthenorth-westthatdraggedfoginland.TheBenjaminanticipatedthewindwithmoresuccessthanwedid.Thefirstweknewofitwasseeinghersailsunfurl,andsheputdistancebetweenherselfandus.

Somefifteenminuteslater,itwasdarkandfogbillowedintowardsthatpartoftheCubancoast-linetheycalltheDevilsBackbone,cragsthatlooklikethespineofagiantbehemoth,amoongivingthemistaghostlyglow.

“We’llhaveahardfightifHornigolddrawsusanydeeperintothisfog,”warnedAde.

ThatwasHornigold’splan,though,buthe’dmadeamistake,andabigmistakeforsuchanexperiencedsailor.Buthefoundhimselfbeinghustledbythewind.Itrushedinfromtheopensea,itchargedatcross-purposesalongthecoast,turningthesand-banksoftheDevil’sBackboneintoahazeofimpenetrablelayersoffogandsand.

“Thewindsaretossingthemaboutlikeatoy,”saidAdewalé.Ipulledupthecowlofmyrobesagainstthechillwindthathadjustbeganto

assaultusaswecamewithinitsrange.“Wecanusethattogetclose.”Helookedatme.“Ifwearenotdashedtopiecesaswell.”Nowthesailswererolledupagain,butontheBenjamintheyweren’tso

quick.Theywerebeingbuffetedbythewind.Isawmentryingtoreefthesailsbutfindingittoughintheconditions.Onefell,hisscreamcarriedtousbythegusts.

NowtheBenjaminwasintrouble.Itbobbledonanincreasinglychoppysea,buffetedbythewindthatsnatchedatitssails,turningitfirstoneway,thenanother.ItveeredclosetowardsthebanksoftheBackbone.Menscurriedaboutthedecks.Anotherwasblownoverboard.They’dlostcontrol.Theywereatthemercyoftheelements.

Istoodontheforecastledeck,onehandbracedandtheotherheldout,feelingthewindonmypalm.IfeltthepressureofthehiddenbladeonmyforearmandknewitwouldtastethebloodofHornigoldbeforethenightwasold.

“Canyoudothis,breddah?Isyourheartupforit?”

BenjaminHornigold,whohadtaughtmesomuchaboutthewayofthesea.BenjaminHornigold,themanwhohadestablishedNassau,whohadmentoredmygreatestfriendEdwardThatch,whointurnhadmentoredme.Actually,Ididn’tknowifIcould.

Truthbetold,Iwashopingtheseawouldswallowhimup,andseethejobdoneforme,Itoldhim.“ButI’lldowhatImust.”

Myquartermaster.Godblessmyquartermaster.HeknewthefateoftheBenjaminbeforethefatesevenknewofthefateoftheBenjamin.Asitcrashedsidelongintoahighbank-side,seeminglywrenchedfromtheseabyagustofwindandspiritedintoacloudofsandandfog,hesawtoitthatwedrewalongside.

Wesawtheshapesofcrewmemberstumblingfromhertopsdecks,figuresindistinctinthemurk.Isteppeduptothegunwaleoftheforecastledeck,bracedwithonehandonthebowstripthenusedtheSense,justasJamesKiddhadshownme.Amongthosefallingbodiesofmenwhoslippedfromthedeckoftheshipontotheboggysand-banksandintothewater,IwasabletomakeouttheformofBenjaminHornigold.OvermyshoulderIsaid,“I’llbecomingback.”

AndthenIjumped.

FIFTY-THREE

ThesnapofmusketsfromtheJackdawbeganbehindmeasaone-sidedbattlebetweenmyshipandthecrewofthebeachedBenjaminbegan.Mysenseshadreturnedtonormal,butHornigoldwasdoingmeafavour,shoutingencouragementandcursestohismen.

“Somemightypoorsailingbackthere,lads,andifweliveoutthisday,byGod,I’mflayingeverylastbitchofyou.Holdyourgroundandbereadyforanything.”

Iappearedfromthemistonthebanknearby,andratherthanheedhisownwordshetooktohisheels,scramblingalongtothetopoftheincline,thenacrossit.

MymenhadstartedtousemortarsonthefleeingcrewoftheBenjamin,though,andIfoundmyselfplacedindangerastheybeganrainingontothesandaroundme.UntiloneexplodednearBenjaminandthenextthingIknewhewasdisappearingoutofsightovertheothersideofthesand-bankinasprayofbloodandsand.

Iscrambledoverthetop,madehastybymydesiretoseehisfate,andpaidforitwithaswordswipeacrossmyarm,openingacutthatbled.InasinglemovementIspan,engagedthebladesandmethisnextattack,oursteelsparkingasitmet.Theforceofhisattackwasenoughtosendmetumblingdownthebankandhecameafterme,launchinghimselffromtheslopewithhiscutlassswinging.Icaughthimonmybootsandkickedhimaway,hisswordpointpartingtheairbeforemynose.Rolling,Ipulledmyselftomyfeetandscrambledafterhim,andagainourbladesmet.Forsomemomentswetradedblows,andhewasgood,buthewashurtandIwastheyoungerman,andIwaslitbyvengefulfire.AndsoIcuthisarm,hiselbow,hisshoulder—untilhecouldhardlystandorraisehisswordandIfinishedhim.

“Youcouldhavebeenamanwhostoodforsomethingtrue,”hesaidashedied.Hislipsworkedoverthewordscarefully.Histeethwereblood-stained.

“Butyou’veakiller’sheartnow.”“Wellit’sadamnsightbetterthanwhatyouhave,Ben,”Itoldhim.“The

heartofatraitor,whothinkshimselfbetterthanhismates.”“Aye,andproventrue.WhathaveyoudonesinceNassaufell?Nothingbut

murderandmayhem.”Ilostmytemper,roundedonhim.“Youthrewinwiththeverykindweonce

hated!”Ishouted.“No,”hesaid.Hereachedtograbatmeandmakehispoint,butIangrily

battedhishandsaway.“TheseTemplarsaredifferent.Iwishyoucouldseethat.Butifyoucontinueonyourpresentcourse,you’llfindyou’retheonlyoneleftwalkingit.Withthegallowsattheend.”

“Thatmaybe,”Isaid,“butnowtheworldhasonelesssnakeinitandthat’senoughforme.”

Buthedidn’thearme.Hewasalreadydead.

FIFTY-FOUR

“Isthepiratehunterdead?”saidBartholomewRoberts.Ilookedathim,BartholomewRoberts,thisunknowablecharacter,aSage,a

carpenterwhohadturnedtoalifeofpiracy.Wasthisthefirsttimehe’dvisitedTheObservatory?Whydidheneedmehere?Somanyquestions—questionstowhichIknewIwouldneverbegivenanswers.

WewereatLongBay,onthenorthernshoresofJamaica.HehadbeenloadinghispistolsasIarrived.Thenheaskedhisquestion,towhichIreplied,“Aye,bymyownhand.”

Henoddedandwentbacktocleaninghispistols.Ilookedathimandfoundasuddenragegrippedme.“Whyisityoualonecanfindwhatsomanywant?”

Hechuckled.“Iwasbornwithmemoriesofthisplace.Memoriesofanothertimeentirely,Ithink.Like...LikeanotherlifeIhavealreadyled.”

IshookmyheadandwonderedwhetherIwouldeverbefreeofthismumbojumbo.

“Curseyouforalurch,man,andspeaksomesense.”“Nottoday.”Noranyotherday,Ithoughtangrily,butbeforeIcouldfindareplythere

cameanoisefromthejungle.Natives?PerhapstheyhadbeendisturbedbythebattlebetweentheJackdaw

andBenjaminthathadended.Atthemoment,whatremainedofHornigold’screwwasbeingherdedaboardtheJackdawandIhadleftmymentoit—dealwiththeprisonersandawaitmyreturnshortly—andembarkedonthismeetingwithBartholomewRobertsalone.

Hegesturedtome.“Afteryou,Captain.Thepathaheadisdangerous.”Witharoundadozenofhismenwebegantomovethroughthejungle,

beatingapaththroughtheundergrowthaswebegantoheadupwards.Iwondered,shouldIbeabletoseeitbynow,thisObservatory?Weren’ttheygreatconstructs,builtonhighpeaks?Allaroundusthehillsideswavedgreenery

atus.Bushesandpalmtrees.Nothingmadebymanasfarastheeyecansee,unlessyoucountedourshipsinthebay.

Wehadbeengoingonlyafewhundredyardswhenweheardasoundfromtheundergrowth.SomethingstreakedfromthebushestoonesideofusandoneofRoberts’smenfellwithaglistening,gore-filledholewherethebackofhisheadhadbeen.IknowaclubstrikewhenIseeone.Butwhateverstruckhimwasgoneasquicklyasithadcome.

Atremoroffearranthroughthecrew,whodrewtheirswords,pulledmusketsfromtheirbacksandsnatchedpistolsfromtheirbelts.Crouched.Ready.

“Themennativetothislandwillputupafight,Edward,”saidRobertsquietly,eyesscanningtheundergrowth,whichwassilent,keepingitssecrets.

“Youwillingtopushbackasisnecessary?Tokill,ifneeded?”Iengagedmyhiddenblade.“You’llhearfrommesoon.”AndthenIcrouched,rolledsidewaysintothejungleandbecameapartofit.

FIFTY-FIVE

Thenativesknewtheirlandwell,butIwasdoingsomethingtheysimplywouldnotexpect.Iwastakingthefighttothem.ThefirstmanIcameacrosswassurprisedtoseeme,andthatsurprisewashisundoing.Heworenothingbutabreech-clout,hisblackhairtieduponhishead,aclubstillgleamingwiththebloodofabuccaneeruponit,andeyeswidewithshock.Thenativeswereonlyprotectingwhatwastheirs.ItgavemenopleasuretoslidemybladebetweenhisribsandIhopedhisendwasquick,butIdiditanyway,thenmovedon.Thejunglebegantoresoundwiththenoiseofscreamsandgunshots,butIfoundmorenativesanddealtmoredeathuntilatlastthebattlewasoverandIreturnedtothemainparty.

Eighthadbeenkilledinthebattle.Mostofthenativeshadfallenundermyblade.

“TheguardiansofTheObservatory,”BartholomewRobertstoldme.“Howlonghavetheirkindbeenhere?”Iaskedhim.“Oh...atleastathousandyearsormore.Verydedicatedmen.Verydeadly.”Ilookedaroundatwhatremainedofhisgroup,histerrifiedmen,whohad

watchedtheirship-matespickedoffonebyone.Thenwecontinuedourjourney,climbingstill,goingupandupuntilwecameuponit,grey-stonewallsadarkcontrastwiththevibrantjunglecolours,amassivebuildingrisingway,wayaboveus.

TheObservatory.Howhaditnotbeenseen?Iwondered.Howhaditremainedinvisible?“Thisisit,then?”“Aye,analmostsacredplace.Allitneedsisadropofmyblood...”Inhishandappearedasmalldaggerandhenevertookhiseyesfrommineas

heusedittomakehisthumbbleed,thenplacedthered-beadedfingerintoatinyrecessbythesideofthedoor.Itbegantoopen.

Allsixofuslookedatoneanother.OnlyBartRobertsseemedtobeenjoying

himself.“Andthedooropens,”hesaidwiththevoiceofashowman,“afteralmost

eightythousandyears.”Hesteppedtoonesideandusheredhismenthrough.Thenervouscrew

memberslookedatoneanother,thendidastheircaptainorderedandbegantomovetowardsthedoor...

Then,forsomereasonknownonlytohimself,Robertskilledthem,allfourofthem.Withonehandheburiedhisdaggerintheeyeoftheleadingmanandpushedhisbodyasideatthesametimehedrewhispistolandfiredintothefaceofthesecondman.ThelasttwocrewmembershadnotimetoreactasBlackBartdrewhissecondpistolandfiredpoint-blankintothechestofathirdman,pulledhisswordandranthefinalmanthrough.

Itwasthesamemanwhohadbroughtthechestondeck,who’dlookedtoRobertsforsomewordsofpraise.Hemadeanodd,chokingsoundandRobertsheldhimthereasecond,thenslidthecutlasshometothehiltandtwistedit.Thebodyonhisbladewenttautandthedeck-handlookedathiscaptainwithimploring,uncomprehendingeyesuntilhisbodyrelaxed,slidoffthesteelandthumpedtotheground,chestrisingonce,twice,thenstayingstill.

Somuchdeath.Somuchdeath.“Jesus,Roberts,haveyougonemad?”Heshookbloodfromhiscutlassthenfussilycleaneditwithahandkerchief.“Quitethecontrary,Edward.Thesewagswouldhavegonemadatseeing

whatliesbeyondthisgate.Butyou,Isuspect,aremadeofsternerstuff.Now,pickupthatchestandcarryithither.”

Ididasheasked,knowingthattofollowRobertswasabadidea.Aterrible,bloodyidea.ButIwasunabletopreventmyselffromdoingit.I’dcometoofartobackout.

Insideitwaslikeanancienttemple.“Dirtyanddecrepit,”saidRoberts,“notquiteasIremember.Butithasbeenovereightymillennia.”

Ishothimaglare.Moremumbojumbo.“Ohrot,that’simpossible.”Hislookinreturnwasunknowable.“Stepasifonthinice,Captain.”OnstonestepswedescendedthroughthecentreofTheObservatory,moving

intoalargebridgechamber.AllmysenseswerealiveasIlookedaroundandtookinthevastopennessofthespace.

“Beautiful,isn’tit?”saidRobertsinahushedvoice.“Aye,”IrepliedandfoundIwaswhispering,“likesomethingoutofafairy-

tale,oneofthemoldpoems.”

“Thereweremanystoriesaboutthisplaceonce.Talesthatturnedintorumours,andagainintolegend.Theinevitableprocessoffactsbecomingfictions,beforefadingawayentirely.”

Weenteredanewroomaltogether,whatcouldonlybedescribedasanarchive,ahugespacelinedwithlowshelvesonwhichwerestackedhundredsofsmallvialsofblood,justliketheonesinthecoffer—justliketheoneIhadseenTorresuseonBartholomewRoberts.

“Morebloodvials.”“Yes.Thesecubescontainthebloodofanoldandancientpeople.A

wonderfulrace,intheirtime.”“Themoreyoutalk,man,thelessIunderstand,”Isaidirritably.“Onlyrememberthis;thebloodinthesevialsisnotworthasinglerealeto

anyoneanymore.Itmaybeagain,oneday.Butnotinthisepoch.”WeweredeepwithinthebowelsoftheEarthbythen,andwalkedthroughthe

archivesintowhatwasthemaintheatreofTheObservatory.Againitwasastoundingandwestoodforasecond,craningourneckstogazefromonesideofthevastdomedchambertotheother.

Atonesideofthechamberwaswhatlookedlikeapit,withjustasloshingsoundfromfarbelowtoindicatewatersomewhere,whileinthemiddleofthechamberwasaraiseddaiswithwhatlookedlikeacomplicatedpatterncarvedintothestone.AsRobertsbademeputthechestdownalownoisebegan.Alow,hummingsoundthatwasintriguingatfirstbutbegantobuild...

“What’sthat?”IfeltasthoughIwashavingtoshouttomakemyselfheardalthoughIwasn’t.

“Ahyes,”saidRoberts,“asecuritymeasure.Justamoment.”Aroundusthewallshadbeguntoglow,lettingoffapulsingwhitelightthat

wasasbeautifulasitwasunsettling.TheSagewalkedacrossthefloortotheraisedplatforminthemiddleandputhishandtoacarvedindentinthecentre.Straightawaythesoundrecededandtheroomarounduswassilentagainthoughthewallsstillglowed.

“Sowhatisthisplace?”IsaidtoRoberts.“Thinkofitaslikealargespyglass.Adevicecapableofseeinggreat

distances.”Theglow.Theblood.This“device.”Myheadwasbeginningtospin,andallI

coulddowasstandandwatchopen-mouthedasRobertsreachedintothecofferwithpractisedfingers,asthoughitwassomethinghe’ddonedozensoftimesbefore,thenpulledoutavialandheldituptothelight,justashehadontheday

wetookpossessionofthechest.Satisfied,hebenttotheraiseddaisinfrontofhimandplacedthecrystal

inside.Somethinghappenedthen—somethingIstillcan’tquitebelieve—theglowonthewallsseemedtoripplelikemist,coalescing,notintofogbutintoimages,aseriesofopaquepictures,asthoughIwerelookingthroughawindowatsomething,at...

FIFTY-SIX

CalicoJackRackham,asIliveandbreathe.ButIwasn’tlookingathim.No.ItwasasthoughIwashim.AsthoughI

werelookingthroughhiseyes.Infact,theonlyreasonIknewitwasCalicoJackwastheIndianfabricofhiscoatsleeve.

HewaswalkingupthestepstowardsTheOldAvery.Myheartleapttoseetheoldplace,evenmorecarewornanddilapidatedthaneverbefore...

Whichmeantthatthiswasn’tanimagefromthepast.Itwasn’tanimageIhadeverexperiencedmyselfbecauseI’dneverseenTheOldAveryinitscurrentstateofdisrepair.Ihadn’tvisitedNassausincethetruerotsetin.

Andyet...Andyet...Iwasseeingit.“Thisisbloodywitchcraft,”Ispluttered.“No.ThisisCalicoJackRackham...Somewhereintheworldatthis

moment.”“Nassau,”Isaid,asmuchtohimastomyself.“Thisishappeningrightnow?

We’reseeingthroughhiseyes?”“Aye,”saidRobertsItwasn’tasthoughIreturnedmyattentiontotheimage.Itwassimplythere

infrontofme.AsifIwerepartofit,insideit.WhichinawayIwas,becausewhenCalicoJackturnedhisheadtheimagemovedwithhim.IwatchedashelookedtowardsatablewhereAnneBonnysatwithJamesKidd.

Along,lingeringglanceoverAnneBonny.OvercertainpartsofAnneBonny.Thedirtybastard.Butthen,ohmyGod,shelookedoverfromthetablewhereshesatwithJamesKiddandreturnedhislook.AndImeanarealproper,lasciviouslook.ThatrovingeyeItoldyouabout?ShewasgivingoldCalicoJackthefullbenefit.Bloodyhell.They’rehavinganaffair.Despiteeverything—despitethewondersofTheObservatory—Ifound

myselfsuppressingachuckletothinkofJamesBonny,thattreacherousturncoat,

wearingthehorns.CalicoJack?Well,thepoxygithadmaroonedme,hadn’the?Sotherewasnolovelostthere.Buthedidgiveusourweapons,ammunitionandgruband,well,hedidhaveAnnewarminghisbed,soyouhadtohandittohim.

Now,CalicoJackwaslisteningtoAnneandJameschatting.“Idon’tknow,Jim,”Annewassaying,“Ihaven’tthefaintestideahowto

pilotaship.Thatain’tworkawomandoes.”Whatonearthweretheycookingup?“Tosh.I’veseenascoreofladieswhocanreefasailandspinacapstan.”“Wouldyouteachmetofight?Withacutlass,like?Andhowmaybeto

handleapistol?”“Allthatandmore.Butyouhavetowantitandworkforit.There’sno

stumblingintotruesuccess.”NowCalicoJackconfirmedwhatIthought.Hisdisembodiedvoiceseemedto

echooffthestone.“Oi,lad,that’smylassyermakingloveto.LayofforI’llcutya.”

“Upyourarse,Rackham.‘Lad’isthelastthingyoushouldbecallingme...”Ohyes?Ithought.WasJamesKiddabouttorevealherdisguise?Jameswasreachingbeneathhis/hershirt.CalicoJackwasblustering,“Oh,is

thatright...Lad?”RobertsremovedthecubefromtheObservatorycontrolsandtheimage

evaporated.IbitmylipandthoughtoftheJackdaw.Adedidn’tlikeourcurrentsituation.

Hewasdyingtomakesail.Buthewouldn’tdoitwithoutme.Wouldhe?Nowtheglowthathunginthechamberbeforeusbecamesomethingelse

again,andallthoughtsoftheJackdaw’sintentionswereforgotten,asRobertssaid,“Let’stryanother.GovernorWoodesRogers,”andplacedanothercrystalcubeintotheconsoleandnewimagesformed.

WewereseeingthroughtheeyesofWoodesRogers.StandingwithhimwasTorresandnotfarawaywasElTiburón.SuddenlythevisionwasfilledwiththeimageofabloodvialbeingheldupforexaminationbyRogers.

Hewasspeaking.“Youhaveaboldidea.ButImustthinkitthroughcarefully.”

TheObservatorychamberroomfilledwiththesoundofTorres’sreply.“AsimplepledgeofloyaltyisallyouneedsuggesttotheHouseof

Commons.Anoath,agesture,andasimpleceremonialdramofbloodtaken

fromthefinger.That’sall.”Christ.WhateverAnneandMaryhadbeencookingup,itwasnothing

comparedtothislot.Stilltryingtocontrolthebleedingworld—bleedingbeingtheoperativeword.Anddoingithow?TheEnglishParliament.

NowRogerswasspeaking.“Theministersmaygivemetrouble,butitshouldbeeasyenoughtoconvincetheHouseofLords.Theydoadoreanexcessofpompandcircumstance.”

“Exactly.Tellthemit’sashowoffealtytotheking...AgainstthoserevoltingJacobites.”

“Yes,indeed,”repliedRogers.“Thecrucialdetailistheblood.Youmustgetasamplefromeachman.We

wanttobereadywhenwefindTheObservatory.”“Agreed.”Robertsremovedthecubefromtheconsoleandlookedatme,triumphinhis

eyes.NowweknewwhattheTemplarswereplotting.Notonlythat,butwewereonestepaheadofthem.

Theimageshadgone,thestrangeglowhadreturnedtothewallsandIwasleftwonderingifI’dimaginedthewholething.Meantime,Robertspulledsomethingfromtheconsoleandhelditaloft.Askull.Theskullinwhichhe’dplacedthevialsofblood.

“Aprecioustool,yousee?”“Sorcery,that’swhatitis,”Isaid.“Notso.Everymechanismthatgivesthisdeviceitslightisatrueand

physicalthing.Ancient,yes,butnothingsupernaturalorstrange.”Ilookeddoubtfullyathim,thinking,You’rekiddingyourself,mate.But

decidednottopursueit.“We’llbemastersoftheoceanwiththat,”Isaid.Wantingtoholdtheskull,

reachingouttotakeitfromhim,overcomewiththedesiretofeeltheweightofitinmypalm.Ifeltatrembleashecameforwardwithit,hishandoutstretched.Andthen,insteadofgivingittome,hewhippeditaroundandstruckmeinthefacewithit,knockingmeacrossthefloorofTheObservatory,thenovertheprecipiceofthepit.

Ifell,slammingintothestoneonthewaydown,whippedbythevegetationthatclungtotherockfacebutunabletogetagriponitandstopmyfall.Ifeltasearingpaininmyside,thensmackedintothewaterbelow,thankingGodIhadthepresenceofmindtoturnmyfallintothesemblanceofadive.Fromthatheight,thatinstinctmighthavesavedmylife.

Evenso,myentranceintothewaterwasamessyone.Icrashedintoitandfloundered,swallowingwater,tryingnottoletthepaininmysidedragmeunder.AsIbrokethesurfaceandgaspedforbreathIlookedup,onlytoseeRobertsgazingdownuponme.

“There’snothinginmycodeaboutloyalty,youngman.”Hetauntedme,hisvoiceechoinginthedistancebetweenus.“Youplayedyourrole,butourpartnershipisdone.”

“You’readeadman,Roberts,”Iroaredback,onlyIcouldn’tquitemanagearoar.Myvoicewasweakand,anyway,he’dleft,andIwastoobusytryingtotendtotheflamingpaininmysideandpullmyselftosafety.

WhenIpulledmyselftothesidewhatIfoundwasabranchstickingfrommyside,thewoundcolouringmyrobesred.Iyankeditoutwithascream,tossedthestickawayandclenchedmyteethasIheldthewound,feelingbloodseepthroughmyfingers.Roberts,youbastard.Youbastard.

Withthewoundstillheldclosed,IclimbedbacktoTheObservatory,thenlimpedoutandbackdowntothebeach,pain-sweatpouringoffme.ButasIstumbledoutofthelonggrassandontothebeachwhatIsawfilledmewithanguish.TheJackdaw,mybelovedJackdaw,hadleft.TherewasjusttheRoveranchoredoffshore.

There,wherethebeachmetthesea,wasmooredayawl,thecoxswainandrowerssilentsentinelswiththeseaattheirbacksastheyawaitedtheircaptain—CaptainBartholomewRoberts,whostoodbeforemeattheentrancetothebeach.

Hecrouched.Hiseyesflashedandhesmiledthatpeculiarjoylesssmileofhis.“Oh...yourJackdawhasflown,Edward,eh?That’sthebeautyofademocracy...Themanyoutvotetheone.Aye,youcouldsailwithme,butwithatemperashotasyoursIfearyou’dburnusalltocinders.LuckilyIknowtheKing’sbountyonyourheadisalargeoneandIintendtocollect.”

Thepainwastoomuch.Icouldholdittogethernomoreandfeltmyselfpassingout.ThelastthingIheardasthedarknessclaimedmewasBartholomewRoberts,softlytauntingme.

“HaveyoueverseentheinsideofaJamaicanprison,boy?Haveyou?”

PARTIV

FIFTY-SEVEN

Alotcanhappeninsixmonths.ButinthesixmonthstoNovember1720,ithappenedtootherpeople.Me,IwasmoulderinginjailinKingston.WhileBartholomewRobertsbecamethemostfearedpirateoftheCaribbean,commandingasquadronoffourvessels,hisflagshipTheRoyalFortuneatitshead,IwastryingandfailingtosleeponarollonthefloorofacellsocrampedIcouldn’tliestraight.Iwaspickingmaggotsfrommyfoodandholdingmynosetogetitdown.Iwasdrinkingdirtywaterandprayingitwouldn’tkillme.Iwaswatchingthestripedgreylightfromthebarsofthedoorandlisteningtotheclamourofthejail:thecurses;night-timescreams;aconstantclangingthatneverceased,asthoughsomeone,somewhere,spentalldayandnightrattlingacupalongthebars;and,sometimes,Iwaslisteningtomyownvoice,justtoremindmyselfthatIwasstillalive,whenIwouldcursemyluck,curseRoberts,curseTemplars,cursemycrew...

Ihadbeenbetrayed—byRoberts,ofcourse,thoughthatwasnosurprise—butalsobytheJackdaw.MytimeinjailgavemethedistanceIneededtoseehowmyobsessionwithTheObservatoryhadblindedmetotheneedsofmymen,andIstoppedblamingthemforleavingmeatLongBay.I’ddecidedifIwasluckyenoughtoseethemagainI’dgreetthemlikebrothersandtellthemIborenogrudgeandofferapologiesofmyown.Evenso.TheimageoftheJackdaw’ssailingawaywithoutmeburnedlikeabrandonmybrain.

Notformuchlongerthough.Nodoubtmytrialapproached—thoughIhadyettohear,ofcourse.Andaftermytrialwouldcomemyhanging.

Yesterdaytheyhadone.Apiratehanging,Imean.ThetrialwasheldinSpanishTown,andfiveofthementriedwenttothegallowsthedayafteratGallowsPoint.TheyhangedtheothersixthenextdayinKingston.

Oneofthosetheyhungyesterdaywas“CaptainJohnRackham,”themanweallknewasCalicoJack.

PooroldJack.Notagoodmanbutnotanespeciallybadone,either.Andwho

cansayfairerthanthat?Ihopedhe’dmanagedtogetenoughliquordownhimbeforetheysenthimtothegallows.Keephimwarmforthejourneytotheotherside.

Thingwas,CalicoJackhadacoupleoflieutenants,andtheirtrialwastostartthisveryday.Iwasduetobebroughtupintothecourtroom,infact,wheretheysaidImightbeneededasawitnessalthoughtheyhadn’tsaidwhetherforthedefenceortheprosecution.

Thetwolieutenants,yousee,wereAnneBonnyandMaryRead.Andthereinliesatale.I’dwitnessedthestory’sbeginningwithwhatIsawat

TheObservatory:CalicoJackandAnneBonnywerelovers.Jackhadworkedhischarm,temptedherawayfromJames(thatscurvytoad)andtakenhertosea.

Onboardshedressedasamanandshewasn’ttheonlyone.MaryReadwasaboardshiptoo,dressedasJamesKidd,andthethreeofthem—CalicoJack,AnneandMary—wereallinonit.Thetwowomenworemen’sjackets,longtrousersandscarvesaroundtheirnecks.Theycarriedpistolsandcutlassesandwereasfearsomeasanyman—andmoredangerous,whatwithhavingmoretoprove.

Forawhiletheysailedtheneighbourhoodterrorizingmerchantships,untilearlierintheyear,whentheystoppedoffatNewProvidence.ThereonAugust22,theyearofourLord1720,Rackhamandaloadofhiscrew,includingAnneandMary,stoleasloopcalledtheWilliamfromNassauharbour.

OfcourseRogersknewexactlywhowasresponsible.HeissuedaproclamationanddespatchedasloopcrammedwithhisownmentocatchCalicoJackandhiscrew.

ButoldCalicoJackwasonaroll,andinbetweensplicingthemainbrace,whichistosaycarousing,heattackedfishingboatsandmerchantshipsandaschooner.

Rogersdidn’tlikethat.Hesentasecondvesselafterhim.ButoldCalicoJackdidn’tcare,andhecontinuedhispiracywestwarduntil

thewesterntipofJamaica,whereheencounteredaprivateerbythenameofCaptainBarnet,whosawtheopportunitytomakeabitofmoneyinreturnforJack’shide.

Sureenough,Jackwasboardedandhiscrewsurrendered,allapartfromMaryandAnne,thatwas.FromwhatIheardJackandhiscrewhadcarousedthemselvesstupidandweredrunkorpassedoutwhenBarnet’smenattacked.Likehell-cats,MaryandAnnecursedoutthecrewandfoughtwithpistolsandswordsbutwereovercome,andthewholelotofthemweretakenacrossthe

islandtoSpanishTownjail.LikeIsay,they’dtriedandhangedJackalready.NowitwastheturnofAnneandMary.Ihadn’tseenmanycourt-roomsinmylife,thankGod,butevenso,I’dnever

seenoneasbusyasthis.Myguardsledmeupasetofstonestepstoabarreddoor,openedit,shovedmeoutintothegalleryandbademesit.Igavethemapuzzledlook.What’sgoingon?Buttheyignoredmeandstoodwiththeirbackstothewall,musketsatthereadyincaseImadeabreakforit.

Butmadeabreakwhere?Myhandsweremanacled,menwerewedgedintothegalleryseatsallaround:spectators,witnesses...allofthemcometolayeyesonthetwoinfamouswomenpirates—AnneBonnyandMaryRead.

Theystoodtogetherbeforethejudge,whoglaredatthemandbangedhisgavel.

“Thecharges,sir,Iwillhearthemagain,”hecalledtothebailiff,whostoodandclearedhisthroat.

“HisMajesty’sCourtcontendsthatthedefendants,MaryReadandAnneBonny,didpiratically,feloniously,andinahostilemanner,attack,engage,andtakesevencertainfishingboats.”

DuringtheminoruproarthatfollowedIsensedsomebodysitbehindme.Twopeople,infact—butpaidthemlittlemind.

“Secondly,”continuedthebailiff,“thisCourtcontendsthatthedefendantslurkeduponthehighseasanddidsetupon,shootat,andtaketwocertainmerchantsloops,thusputtingthecaptainsandtheircrewsincorporealfearoftheirlives.”

Thenmattersofcourtrecededintothebackgroundasoneofthemensittingbehindmeleanedforwardandspoke.

“EdwardJamesKenway...”IrecognizedthevoiceofWoodesRogersatonce.“BorninSwanseatoanEnglishfatherandWelshmother.MarriedateighteentoMissCarolineScott,nowestranged.”

Iliftedmymanaclesandshiftedaroundintheseat.Neitherofmyguardswiththeirmusketshadmoved,buttheywatcheduscarefully.BesideRogers,everyinchthemanofrank,satLaureanoTorres,dapperandcomposedinthebalmyheatofthecourt-room.Theyweren’tthereonpirate-huntingbusiness,though.TheywerethereonTemplarbusiness.

“Sheisabeautifulwoman,I’mtold,”saidTorres,withanodingreeting.“Ifyoutouchher,youbastards...”Isnarled.Rogersleanedforward.Ifeltanudgeatmyshirtandlookeddowntoseethe

muzzleofhispistolinmyside.IntheyearsincemyfallfromTheObservatoryIhadbysomemiracleavoidedgangreneorinfection,butthewoundhadneverquitehealed.Hedidn’tknowaboutit,ofcourse,hecouldn’thave.Butstill,somehowhe’dmanagedtoproditwiththebarrelofhisgun,makingmewince.

“IfyouknowTheObservatory’slocation,tellusnowandyou’llbeoutofhereinaflash,”saidRogers.Ofcourse.ThatwaswhyIhadn’tfelttheburnofthehangman’snoosesofar.“RogerscanholdtheseBritishhoundsatbayforatime,”saidTorres,“but

thiswillbeyourfateifyoufailtocooperate.”Hewasgesturingouttothecourt-room,wherethejudgewasspeaking;wherewitnessesweretellingoftheawfulthingsAnneandMaryhaddone.

Theirwarningover,TorresandRogersstood,justasafemalewitnessdescribedinbreathlessdetailhowshe’dbeenattackedbythetwowomenpirates.She’dknowntheywerewomen,shesaid,“bythelargenessoftheirbreasts,”andthecourtlikedthat.Thecourtlaughedatthatuntilthelaughterwassilencedbytherapofthejudge’sgavel,thesounddrowningouttheslamofthedoorbehindRogersandTorres.

AnneandMary,meanwhile,hadn’tsaidaword.What’sthematter?Catgotyourtongue?I’dneverknownthemlostforwordsbefore,buttheretheywere,silentasthegrave.Talesoftheirderring-doweretold,andtheyneveroncebuttedintocorrectanythingegregious,norevensaidapeepwhentheCourtfoundthemguilty.Evenwhentheywereaskediftheycouldofferanyreasonwhysentenceofdeathshouldnotbepassed.Nothing.

Sothejudge,notknowingthetwoladies,andperhapstakingthemforthereticentsort,deliveredhissentence:deathbyhanging.

Andthen—andonlythen—didtheyopentheirmouths.“Milord,wepleadourbellies,”saidMaryRead,breakingtheirsilence.“What?”saidthejudge,paling.“Wearepregnant,”saidAnneBonny.Therewasanuproar.IwonderedifboththesprogsbelongedtoCalicoJack,theolddevil.“Youcan’thangawomanquickwithchild,canye?”calledAnneoverthe

noise.Thecourt-roomwasinturmoil.Asifanticipatingmythoughts,oneofthe

guardsbehindnudgedmewithhismusketbarrel.Don’teventhinkaboutit.“Quiet!Quiet!”calledthejudge.“Ifwhatyouclaimistrue,thenyour

executionswillbestayed,butonlyuntilyourtermsareup.”

“ThenI’llbepregnantthenexttimeyoucomeknocking!”roaredAnne.ThatwastheAnneIremembered,withthefaceofanangelandthemouthof

theroughestjack-tar.Andshehadthecourt-roominanuproaragain,asthered-facedjudgehammeredatthebenchwithhisgavelandorderedthemremoved,andthesessionbrokeupindisarray.

FIFTY-EIGHT

“EdwardKenway.Doyourememberyouoncethreatenedtocutoffmylipsandfeedthemtome?”

LaureanoTorres’sfaceappearedfromthegloomoutsidemyprison-celldoor,framedbythewindow,dividedbythebars.

“Ididn’tdoit,though,”Iremindedhim,mydisusedvoicecroaking.“Butyouwouldhavedone.”True.“ButIdidn’t.”Hesmiled.“Thetypicalterrortacticsofapirate:unsophisticatedand

unsubtle.Whatsayyou,Rogers?”Helingeredtheretoo.WoodesRogers,thegreatpiratehunter.Hangingabout

nearmycelldoor.“Isthatwhyyou’vebeendenyingmefoodandwater?”Irasped.“Oh”—Torreschuckled—“butthereismuch,muchmoretocome.Wehave

thelittlematterofTheObservatory’slocationtoextract.WehavethelittlematterofwhatyoudidtoHornigold.Come,letusshowyouwhatliesinstore.Guards.”

Twomenarrived,thesamepairofTemplarstoogeswho’descortedmetothecourt-room.TorresandRogersleftasIwasmanacledandleg-ironswerefittedtome.Then,withmybootsdraggingontheflags,theyhauledmeoutofthecellandalongthepassageway,outintotheprisoncourtyard,whereIblinkedintheblindingsun,breathedfreshairforthefirsttimeinweeks,then,tomysurprise,outofthemainprison-gates.

“Whereareyoutakingme?”Igasped.Thelightofthesunwastooblinding.Icouldn’topenmyeyes.Itfeltasthoughtheyweregluedtogether.

Therewasnoreply.IcouldhearthesoundsofKingston.Dailylifecarryingonasnormalaroundme.

“Howmucharetheypayingyou?”Itriedtosay.“Whateveritis,letmego,

andI’lldoubleit.”Theycametoahalt.“Goodman,goodman,”Imumbled.“Icanmakeyourich.Justgetme...”Afistsmashedintomyface,splittingmylip,breakingsomethinginmynose

thatbegantogushblood.Icoughedandgroaned.Asmyheadlolledback,afacecameclosetomine.“Shut.Up.”Iblinked,tryingtofocusonhim,tryingtorememberhisface.“I’llgetyouforthat,”Imurmured.Bloodorsalivaranfrommymouth.“You

markmywords,mate.”“Shutup,ornexttimeit’llbethepointofmysword.”Ichuckled.“You’refullofshit,mate.Yourmasterwantsmealive.Killme

andyou’llbetakingmyplaceinthatcell.Orworse.”Throughaveilofpain,bloodandpiercingsunlight,Isawhisexpression

darken.“We’llseeaboutthat,”hesnarled.“We’llseeaboutthat.”Thejourneycontinued,mespittingblood,tryingtoclearmyheadandmostly

failinguntilwecametowhatlookedlikethefootofaladder.IheardthemurmuredvoicesofTorresandRogers,thenasqueakingsoundcomingfromjustoverhead,andwhenIraisedmychinandcastmyeyesupwards,whatIsawwasagibbet.Oneofthestoogeshadclimbedtheladderandunlockedit,andthedooropenedwithacomplaintofrustymetal.Ifeltthesunbeatdownuponme.Icoulddieinthere.Inthesun.

Itriedtosaysomething,toexplainthatIwasparchedandcoulddieinthesunandifIdidthat—ifIdied—thenthey’dneverfindoutwhereTheObservatorywas.OnlyBlackBartwouldknow,andwhataterrifyingthoughtthatwas—BlackBartinchargeofallthatpower.He’sdoingthatrightnow,isn’the?That’showhegottobesosuccessful.ButInevergotthechancetosayitbecausethey’dlockedmeinthegibbetto

letthesundoitswork.Letitslowlycookmealive.

FIFTY-NINE

Atsundownmytwofriendscametofetchmeandtakemebacktomycell.Myrewardforsurvivingwaswater,abowlofitonmycellfloor,justenoughtodabonmylips,keepmealive,touseontheblistersandpustulesbroughtupbythesun.

RogersandTorrescame.“Whereisit?WhereisTheObservatory?”theydemanded.

Withcracked,desiccatedlipsIsmiledatthembutsaidnothing.He’srobbingyoublind,isn’the?Roberts,Imean.He’sdestroyingallyour

plans.“Youwanttogobacktheretomorrow?”“Sure,”Iwhispered.“Sure.Icoulddowiththefreshair.”Itwasn’teveryday.SomedaysIstayedinmycell.Somedaystheyonlyhung

meforafewhours.“Whereisit?WhereisTheObservatory?”Somedaystheyleftmeuntilwellafternightfall.Butitwasn’tsobadwhen

thesunwentin.Iwasstillcrumpledintothegibbetlikeamanstuckinaprivy,everymuscleandboneshriekinginagony;Iwasstilldyingofthirstandhunger,mysunburntfleshflaming.Butstill,itwasn’tsobad.Atleastthesunhadgonein.

“Whereisit?WhereisTheObservatory?”EverydayI’muptherehe’sabiggerpaininthearse,isn’the?Everyday

wastedisBlackBart’striumphovertheTemplars.There’sthat,atleast.“Youwanttogobacktheretomorrow?”“Sure.”Iwasn’tsureIcouldtakeanotherday.InastrangewayIwastrustingthem

nottokillme.Iwastrustinginmyresolvebeinggreaterthantheirs.Iwastrustinginmyowninnerstrength.

ButforanotherdayIhungthere,crouchedandcrumpledinthegibbet.Night

fellagain,andIheardtheguardstauntingme,andIheardthemgloatingaboutCalicoJack,andhowCharlesVanehadbeenarrested.CharlesVane,Ithought.CharlesVane...Irememberhim.Hetriedtokill

me.OrdidItrytokillhim?Thenthesoundsofashort,pitchedbattle,bodiesfalling,muffledgroans.And

thenavoice.“Goodmorning,CaptainKenway.Ihaveagiftforyou.”Very,veryslowly,Iopenedmyeyes.Onthegroundbelowme,paintedgrey

inthedeadlightoftheday,weretwobodies.Myfriends,theTemplarstooges.Bothhadslashedthroats.Apairofcrimsonsmilesadornedtheirnecks.

Crouchingnexttothem,riflingthroughtheirtunicsforthegibbetkeys,wastheAssassinAhTabai.

IassumedI’dneverseehimagain.Afterall,theAssassinAhTabaiwasnotthegreatestsupporterofEdwardKenway.Heprobablywouldjustassoonhaveslitmythroatasrescuemefromjail.

Fortunatelyforme,hechosetorescuemefromjail.But—“Donotmistakemypurposehere,”hesaid,climbingtheladder,

findingtherightkeyforthelockandbeinggoodenoughtocatchmewhenIalmostfellforwardfromthegibbet.Hehadabulgingleatherflaskandheldtheteattomylips.AsIgulpedIfelttearsofreliefandgratitudepouringdownmycheeks.

“IhavecomeforAnneandMary,”hewassayingashehelpedmedowntheladder.“Youowemenothingforthis.Butifyouwouldlendmeyouraid,Icanpromiseyousafepassagefromthisplace.”

Ihadcollapsedtotheground,whereAhTabaiallowedmetogathermyself,handingmetheleatherflaskonceagain.

“I’llneedweapons,”Isaidaftersomeminutes.Hesmiledandhandedmeahiddenblade.Itwasnosmallthingforan

Assassintohandaninterloperablade,andasIcrouchedonthegroundandstrappeditonIrealizedIwasbeinghonouredinsomeway.Thethoughtgavemestrength.

Istoodandengagedthesteel,workedtheactionoftheblade,thenslidithome.Itwastime—timetogoandsaveAnneandMary.

SIXTY

Hehadsomedistractionstosetoff,hesaid.Iwastolookforthewomenwhilehesawtothem.Fine.Iknewwheretheywerebeingheld,andnotlonglater,whenthefirstofhisexplosionsgavemejustthedistractionIneeded,Iwasabletoslipbackintotheprisoncompoundandmakemywaythere.

Then,asIdrewcloser,whatIheardwasthesoundsofscreamingandtheunmistakablevoiceofAnneBonny.

“Helpher,forGod’ssake.Fetchhelp.Mary’sill.Somebody,please.”InreturnIheardthesoundofsoldierstryingtoshutherup,thumpingatthe

barsofhercellwiththeirmusketbutts.Nottobesilenced,Annewasshriekingatthemnow.“She’sill,please,she’sill,”Annewasscreaming.“She’sdying.”“Adyingpirate,there’syourdifference,”oneofthemenwassaying.Irannow,heartthumping,feelingthepainatmysidebutignoringitasI

turnedacorner,onehandonthecoolstonewalltosteadymyprogressandtheotherengagingthebladeatthesametime.

TheguardswerealreadyrattledbyAhTabai’sexplosionsandAnne’sscreaming.ThefirstoneturnedandraisedhismusketbutIsweptmybladeunderandup,thrustingitthroughhisrib-cage,grippingthebackofhisheadandwrenchingitintohisheartatthesametime.Hismatehadturnedatthesoundofthebodythumpingtothestoneandhiseyeswidened.HereachedforhispistolbutIgottohimbeforehisfingerscurledaroundthegrip,andwithashoutleaptandstruckdownwards,plungingthebladeintohim.Stupidmove.Iwasn’tintheconditionforthatkindofaction.ImmediatelyIfeltasearingpainalongmyside.Painlikefirethatbeganat

thewoundandrolledupanddownmybody.InatumbleofflailingarmsandlegsIfellwithmybladeembeddedintheguard,landingbadlybutpullingitfreeasIrolledtomeettheattackofthelastguard...

ThankGod.AhTabaiappearedfrommyright,hisownbladeengaged,and

secondslaterthelastguardlaydeadonthestone.Igavehimgratefuleyesandweturnedourattentiontothecells—tothe

screaming.Thereweretwocellsbesideoneanother.Annestood,herdesperateface

pressedbetweenthebars.“Mary,”shewaspleading,“seetoMary.”Ididn’tneedtellingtwice.Fromaguard’sbeltIliberatedthekeysandtore

openMary’sdoor.Insidesheusedherhandsforapillowonthelow,dirtycotwhereshelay.Herchestroseandfellweakly,andthoughhereyeswereopen,shestaredatthewallwithoutseeingit.

“Mary,”Isaidbendingtoherandspeakingquietly.“It’sme.Edward.”Shebreathedsteadybutraggedbreaths.Hereyesstayedwheretheywere,

blinkingbutnotmoving,notfocusing.Sheworeadressbutitwascoldinthecellandtherewasnoblankettocoverher.Nowatertotouchtoherparchedlips.HerforeheadwasshinywithsweatandcauldronhotwhenItouchedahandtoit.

“Where’sthechild?”Iasked.“Theytookit,”repliedAnnefromthedoor.Thebastards.Myfistsclenched.“Noideawheresheis,”continuedAnne,thensuddenlycriedoutinpain

herself.Jaysus.That’sallweneed.Right,let’sgo.AsgentlyasIcould,IpulledMarytoasittingpositionthenswungherarm

aroundmyshoulderandstood.Myownwoundgrumbled,butMarycriedoutinpainandIcouldonlyimaginetheagonyshewasgoingthrough.Afterchild-birthsheneededrest.Herbodyneededtimetorecover.

“Leanonme,Mary,”Itoldher.“Comeon.”Fromsomewherecametheshoutsofapproachingsoldiers.AhTabai’s

distractionshadworked;they’dgivenusthetimeweneeded,butnowthetroopshadrecovered.

“Searcheverycell,”Iheard.Webeganstumblingalongthepassagewaybacktowardsthecourtyard,AhTabaiandAnneforgingahead.

ButMarywasheavyandIwasweakfromdaysandnightsspenthunginthegibbet,andthewoundinmyside—Christ,ithurt—somethingmusthavetorndowntherebecausethepainflared,andIfeltblood,warmandwet,courseintothewaistbandofmybreeches.

“Please,helpme,Mary,”Ibeggedher,butIcouldfeelherbodysag,asifthefightwasleavingher,thefevertoomuchforit.

“Stop.Please,”shewassaying.Herbreathingwasevenmoreerratic.Herheadlolledfromsidetoside.Herkneesseemedtohavegivenawayandshesanktotheflagstonesofthepassageway.UpaheadAhTabaiwashelpingAnne,whosehandsclutchedatherstomach,andtheyturnedtourgeuson,hearingmoreshoutingfrombehindus,moresoldiersarriving.

“There’snoonehere!”cametheshout.Sonowtheyhaddiscoveredthebreak-out.Iheardmorerunningfeet.

AhTabaiandAnnewereatthedoortothecourtyard.Ablacksquarebecameagreyoneandnightairrushedintothepassageway.

Guardsbehindus.AheadofusAhTabaiandAnnewerealreadyacrossthecourtyardandatthemaingate,wheretheAssassinhadsurprisedaguardwhowasslidingdownthewall,dying.Annewasscreamingnow,needinghelpastheyclamberedthroughthewicketdooroftheprisoncompoundandoutintoanightglowingorangewiththefireofAhTabai’sexplosions.

ButMarycouldn’twalk.Notanymore.IgrimacedasIbentdownandscoopedherup,feelinganothertearingsensationinmysideasthoughmywound,thoughayearold,simplycouldn’tcopewiththeextraweight.

“Mary...”Icouldcarryhernolonger,hadtolayherdownonthestonesofthe

courtyard.FromallaroundusIcouldhearthesoundoftrampingbootsandsoldierscallingtooneanother.Fine,Ithought.Letthemcome.HereiswhereI’llstandandfight.It’sasgood

aplacetodieasany.Shelookedupatmeandhereyesfocused,andshemanagedtosmilebeforea

freshsurgeofpainmadeherbodyconvulse.“Don’tdieonmyaccount,”shemanaged.“Go.”“No,”Itried.Butshewasright.Ilaidherdown,triedtomakeherascomfortableaspossibleonthestones.

MymouthwaswetwhenIspoke.“Damnit.Youshouldhavebeentheonetooutlastme.”

Shesmiledaghostlysmile.“I’vedonemypart.Willyou?”HerimagedividedasthoughviewedthroughdiamondsandIpalmedtears

frommyeyes.“Ifyoucamewithme,Icould,”Iurgedher.Shesaidnothing.No,please.Don’tgo.Notyou.

“Mary...?”Shewastryingtosaysomething.Iputmyeartoherlips.“I’llbewithyou,Kenway,”shewhispered.Herfinalbreathwaswarmonmy

ear.“Iwill.”Shedied.Istood.IlookeddownatMaryRead,knowingtherewouldbetimetomourn

herlater,whenIwouldrememberaremarkableperson,perhapsthemostremarkableIeverknew.ButforthemomentIthoughtofhowtheBritishsoldiershadletthisgoodwomangivebirth,rippedherbabyfromher,thenleftherwoundedandfeverishinaprisoncell.Noblankettocoverher.Nowatertotouchtoherlips.

IheardthefirstBritishsoldierscomingintothecourtyardbehindme.JusttimetoexactalittlerevengebeforeImakemyescape.

Iengagedthebladeandspantomeetthem.

SIXTY-ONE

IguessyoucouldsayIdidabitofdrinkingafterthat.Isawpeopleinmydelirium,figuresfromthepast:Caroline,WoodesRogers,BartholomewRoberts.

Andghoststoo:CalicoJack,CharlesVane,BenjaminHornigold,EdwardThatch.

AndMaryRead.Eventually,afterabingethatlastedhowlong,Icouldn’tsay,salvationcame

intheformofAdewalé.HecametomeonthebeachinKingston,andIthoughthewasanotherghostatfirst,anotherfigurefrommyvisions.Cometotauntme.Cometoremindmeofmyfailings.

“CaptainKenway,youlooklikeabowlofplumduff.”Oneofmyvisions.Aghost.Atrickmypoor,hung-overmindisplayingonme.

Andyes,whilewe’reonthesubject,whereismybottleofliquor?Until,whenhereachedahandtomeandIreachedback,expectinghisfingers

tobecomewispsofsmoke,todisappearintonothing,theywerereal.Hardaswood,justasreliable,andreal.

Isatup.“Christ,I’vegotaheadforten...”Adepulledmeup.“Onyourfeet.”Istoodrubbingmypoorthrobbinghead.“Youputmeinaspot,Adewalé.

AfteryouleftmewithRoberts,Ishouldhavehardfeelingsaboutseeingyouhere.”Ilookedathim.“Butmostly,I’mbloodyglad.”

“Metoo,breddah,andyou’llbepleasedtoknow,yourJackdawisstillinonepiece.”

Hetookmebytheshoulderandpointedouttosea,andmaybeitwasthedrinkmakingmefeelextraemotional,buttearsfilledmyeyestoseetheJackdawonceagain.ThemenstoodatthegunwalesandIsawthemintheriggingandtheirfacesatthehatchesofthesternguns,everyman-jackofthemlookingovertothebeach,towhereAdewaléstoodwithmenow.Theycame,Ithought,andatearrolleddownmycheek,onethatIbrushedawaywiththe

sleeveofmyrobes(apartinggiftfromAhTabaithoughI’ddonelittletohonourthemsince).

“Shallwesetsail?”Iaskedhim,butAdewaléwasalreadywalkingaway,furtherupthebeachtowardsinland.

“You’releaving?”Icalledafterhim.“Aye,Edward.ForIhaveanothercallingelsewhere.”“But...”“Whenyourheartandyourheadareready,visittheAssassins.Ithinkyou

willunderstandthen.”

•••

SoItookhisadvice.IsailedtheJackdawtoTulum,backtowhereIhadfirstdiscoveredmySenseandmetAhTabai.There,IleftthecrewontheJackdawandwentinsearchofAhTabai,onlytoarriveintheaftermathofanattack,walkingintothesmouldering,smokingruinsofanAssassinvillageandfindingAdetheretoo.This,then,washiscalling.

“Jesus,Adewalé,whatthehellhappenedhere?”“Youhappenedhere,Edward.Thedamageyoucausedsixyearsagohasnot

beenundone.”Iwinced.Sothatwasit.TheAssassinswerestillfeelingtherepercussionsof

thosemapsIsoldtotheTemplars.Ilookedathim.“I’mnotaneasymantocallafriend,amI?Isthatwhyyou’rehere?”“Tofightbesideamansodrivenbypersonalgainandgloryisahardthing,

Edward.IhavecometofeeltheAssassins—andtheircreed—amorehonourablecourse.”

Sothatwasit.ThewordsofMaryReadandAhTabaihadbeenwastedonmebutAdewaléhadbeenheedingthem.IwishedI’dmademoreefforttodothesame.

“HaveIbeenunfair?”heprompted.Ishookmyhead.“Foryears,I’vebeenrushingaround,takingwhateverI

fancied,notgivingatinker’scussforthoseIhurt.YethereIam...withrichesandreputation,feelingnowiserthanwhenIlefthome.YetwhenIturnaround,lookatthecourseI’verun...there’snotamanorwomanIloveleftstandingbesideme.”

Anewvoicespokeup.AhTabai.“Thereistimetomakeamends,Captain

Kenway.”Ilookedathim.“Mary...Beforeshediedsheaskedmetodogoodbyher.

TosortoutthemessI’dmade.Canyouhelpme?”AhTabainodded.HeandAdewaléturnedtowalkintothevillage.“Marywasfondofyou,Edward,”notedAhTabai.“Shesawsomethingin

yourbearingthatgaveherhopeyoumightonedayfightwithus.”Hepaused.“Whatdoyouthinkofourcreed?”hesaid.

Webothknewthatsixyearsago—Jaysus,oneyearago—Iwouldhavescoffedandcalleditsilly.Now,though,myanswerwasdifferent.

“It’shardtosay.Forifnothingistrue,thenwhybelieveanything?Andifeverythingispermitted...Whynotchaseeverydesire?”

“Whyindeed?”AhTabaismiledmysteriously.Mythoughtscollidedinmyhead;mybrainsangwithnewpossibilities.“Itmightbethatthisideaisonlythebeginningofwisdomandnotitsfinal

form.”“That’squiteastepupfromtheEdwardImetmanyyearsago,”saidAh

Tabai,noddingwithsatisfaction.“Edward,youarewelcomehere.”Thankinghim,Iasked,“How’sAnne’schild?”Heshookhisheadandloweredhiseyes,agesturethatsaiditall.“She’sa

strongwoman,butnotinvincible.”IpicturedheronthedeckoftheWilliam,cursinghercrewmatesascowards.

Itwassaidshe’dfiredshotsatthemenastheycowereddrunkbelowdecks.Icouldwellbelieveit.Icouldwellimaginehowterribleandmagnificentshe’dbeenthatday.

Iwenttowhereshesatandjoinedher,staringoverthetree-topsandouttosea.Shehuggedherownlegsandturnedherpalefacetomewithasmile.

“Edward,”shesaidingreeting.“I’msorryforyourloss,”Isaid.Iknewathingortwoaboutlossandwaslearningmoreeveryday.“IfI’dstayedinprison,they’dhavetakenhimfromme”—shesighedasshe

turnedherfaceintothebreeze—“andhe’dnowbealive.MightbethisisGod’swayofsayingIain’tfittobeamum,carryingonlikeIdo.Cursinganddrinking,andfighting.”

“Youareafighter,aye.Inprison,IheardstoriesoftheinfamousAnneBonnyandMaryRead,takingontheKing’sNavytogether.Justthepairofyou.”

Shegavealaughthatwaspartlyasigh.“It’salltrue.WewouldhavewonthatdayifJackandhisladsweren’tpassedoutintheholdfromdrink.Ah...

Edward...Everyone’sgonenow,ain’tthey?Mary.Rackham.Thatch.Andalltherest.Imissthelot,roughastheywere.Doyoufeelthattoo?Allemptyinsidelike?”

“Ido,”Isaid,“devilcurseme,Ido.”IrememberedatimewhenMaryhadputherhandonmyknee,andIdidthe

sametoAnnenow.Shelookedatitthereforamoment,knowingitwasasmuchaninvitationasagestureofcomfort.Andthensheputherownhandtomine,restedherheadonmychest,andwestayedlikethatforawhile.

Neitherofussaidanything.Therewasnoneedto.

SIXTY-TWO

APRIL1721

Nowitwasthetimetostartputtingthingsright.Itwastimetotieuplooseends,totakecareofbusiness.

Itwastimetobeginwreakingmyrevenge,toworkfortheAssassinsandcarryouttheircontracts:Rogers,Torres,Roberts.Theyallhadtodie.

IstoodonthedeckoftheJackdawwithAdewaléandAhTabai.“Iknowmytargetsbysightwellenough.ButhowwillIfindthem?”

“Wehavespiesandinformantsineverycity,”saidAhTabai.“Visitourbureaus,andtheAssassinstherewillguideyou.”

“ThatfixesTorresandRogers,”Itoldhim,“butBartholomewRobertswon’tbenearanycity.Mighttakemonthstofindhim.”

“Oryears,”agreedAhTabai,“butyouareamanoftalentandquality,CaptainKenway.Ibelieveyouwillfindhim.”

Adewalélookedatme.“Ifyouareataloss,donotbeafraidtoleanonyourquartermasterforaid.”Hesmiled.

Inoddedthanks,thenwentontothepoopdeck,leavingAhTabaiandAdewalétodescendaJacob’sladdertoarow-boatbobblingbyourhull.

“Quartermaster,”Isaid,“what’sourpresentcourse?”Sheturned.Resplendentinherpirateoutfit.“Dueeast,Captain,ifit’sstillKingstonwe’resailingfor?”“Itis,MissBonny,itis.Callitout.”“Weighanchorandletfallthecourses,lads!”shecalled,andsheshonewith

happiness.“We’resailingforJamaica!”

•••

Rogers,then.AtthebureauinKingstonIwastoldofhiswhereabouts;thathe

wouldbeattendingapoliticalfunctionintownthatverynight.Afterthathismovementswereuncertain;itneededtobethatwhetherIlikeditornot.

Sothenextthingwastodecidehow.Idecidedtotakeontheguiseofavisitingdiplomat,RuggieroFerraro,andbeforeIlefttookaletterfromwithinmyrobesandhandedittothebureauchief—aletterfor“CarolineScottKenwayofHawkinsLane,Bristol.”InitIaskedafterher.“Areyousafe?Areyouwell?”Aletterfullofhopebutburdenedwithworry.

LaterthatnightIfoundthemanIwaslookingfor,RuggieroFerraro.InshortorderIkilledhim,tookhisclothesandjoinedothersaswemadeourwaytotheparty,andtherewaswelcomedinside.

BeingtheretookmebacktowhenI’dposedasDuncanWalpole;whenI’dfirstvisitedTorres’smansion.Thatfeelingofbeingoverawed,outofplaceandpossiblyevenoutofmydepth,butchasingsomenotionsoffortune,lookingforthequickestwaytomakeeasymoney.

Iwasonceagainlookingforsomething.IwaslookingforWoodesRogers.Richeswerenolongermyprimaryconcern.IwasanAssassinnow.

“YouareMr.Ferraro,Itakeit?”saidaprettyfemaleguest.“Idoadoreyourfrippery.Sucheleganceandcolour.”Thankyou,madam,thankyou.IgaveheradeepbowinwhatIhopedwasthe

Italianmanner.Prettyshemighthavebeen,butIhadenoughladiesinmylifeforthetimebeing.Carolinewaswaitingathome,nottomentioncertain...feelingsIhadforAnne.

Then,justasIrealizedthatgraziewastheonlyItalianwordIknew,WoodesRogerswasgivingaspeech.

“Ladiesandgentlemen,atoasttomybrieftenureasagovernoroftheBahamas!For,undermywatch,nolessthanthreehundredavowedpiratestookTheKing’sPardonandsworefealtytotheCrown.”

Hisfacetwistedintoabitter,sarcasticsneer.“Andyet,forallmysuccesses,HisMajestyhasseenfittosackmeandcall

mehometoEngland.Brilliant!”Itwasabad-tempered,resentfulendtothespeech,andsureenoughhisguests

didn’tquiteknowwhattomakeofit.DuringhistimeonNassauhe’dhandedoutreligiousleafletstryingtopersuadethemerrybuccaneersofNewProvidencetomendtheirhard-drinking,whoringways,soperhapshewasn’taccustomedtotheliquorandheseemedtowobblearoundhisownparty,rantingatanyoneunfortunateenoughtofindhimselfinthevicinity.

“Hurray,hurrayfortheignobleandignorantprigswhoruletheworldwith

sticksuptheirarses.Hurray!”Movingonandanotherguestwincedasheletflywithhiswhinges.“I

broughtthosebrutesinNassautoheel,byGod,andthisisthethanksIget.Unbelievable.”

Ifollowedhimaroundtheroom,stayingoutofhisview,tradinggreetingswiththeguests.Imusthavebowedahundredtimes,murmuredgrazieahundredtimes.UntilatlastRogersappearedtohaveexhaustedthegoodwillofhisfriends,forashemadeanothercircleofthehall,hefoundmoreandmorebackswereturned.Thenextmomentheswayed,maroonedintheroom,lookingaroundhimself,onlytofindhiserstwhilefriendsengagedinmorethrillingconversations.ForasecondIsawtheWoodesRogersofoldashecomposedhimself,drewbackhisshoulders,raisedhischinanddecidedtotakealittleair.Iknewwherehewasgoing,probablybeforehedid,soitwasaneasymattertomoveouttothebalconyaheadofhimandwaitforhimthere.Andthen,whenhearrived,Iburiedmybladesintohisshoulderandneckand,withonehandoverhismouthtostophimscreaming,loweredhimtothefloorofthebalconyandsathimupagainstthebalustrade.

Itallhappenedtooquicklyforhim.Tooquicklytofightbackortoevenbesurprised,andhetriedtofocusonmewithdrunken,painedeyes.

“Youwereaprivateeronce,”Isaidtohim.“Howisityoulacksomuchrespectforsailorsonlytryingtomaketheirwayinthisworld?”

Helookedatwheremybladeswerestillembeddedinhisshoulderandneck.Theywereallthatkepthimalive,becauseassoonasIremovedthem,hisarterywouldbeopen,thebalconywouldbeawashwithhisbloodandhewouldbedeadwithinaminute.

“Youcouldn’tpossiblyunderstandmymotives,”hesaidwithasardonicsmile.“Youwhospentawholelifetimedismantlingeverythingthatmakesourcivilizationshine.”

“ButIdounderstand,”Iinsisted.“I’veseenTheObser-vatory,andIknowitspower.You’dusethatdevicetospy.YouTemplarswouldusethatdevicetospyandblackmailandsabotage.”

Henodded,butthemovementpainedhim;bloodsoakedhisshirtandjacket.“Yes,andyetallforagreaterpurpose.Toensurejustice.Tosnuffouttheliesandtoseektruth.”

“There’snomanonEarthwhoneedsthatpower.”“YetyousuffertheoutlawRobertstouseit...”Ishookmyheadtoputhimrightaboutthat.“No.I’mtakingitback,andif

youtellmewhereheis,I’llstopRoberts.”“Africa,”hesaid.AndIpulledmybladesfree.Bloodflowedheavilyfromhisneckandhisbodysaggedagainstthe

balustrade,undignifiedinthethroesofdeath.WhatadifferencefromthemanI’dfirstmetallthoseyearsagoatTorres’smansion:anambitiousmanwithahandshakeasfirmashisresolve,andnowhislifeendednotjustonmybladebutinadrunkenfugue,amorassofbitternessandbrokendreams.Thoughhe’doustedthepiratesfromNassau,hehadn’tbeengiventhesupportheneededtofinishthejob.TheBritishhadturnedtheirbacksonhim.HishopesofrebuildingNassauwereshattered.

BloodpuddledonthestonearoundmeandImovedmyfeettoavoidit.Hischestroseandfellslowly.Hiseyeswerehalf-closedandhisbreathingbecameirregularaslifeslippedaway.

Thenfrombehindcameascreamand,startled,Iturnedtoseeawoman,thefineryofherclothesinstarkcontrasttoherdemeanour,ahandoverhermouthandwide,terrifiedeyes.Therewastherumbleofrunningfeet,morefiguresappearingonthebalcony.Nobodydaringtotacklemebutnotwithdrawingeither.Justwatching.

Icursed,stoodandvaultedtothebalustrade.Tomyleftthebalconyfilledwithguests.“Grazie,”Itoldthem,thenspreadmyarmsandjumped.

SIXTY-THREE

FEBRUARY1722

AndsotoAfrica,whereBlackBart—nowthemostfearedandinfamouspirateintheCaribbean—continuedtoevadetheBritish.Iknewhowhedidit,ofcourse,becauseinhispossessionwasTheObservatorySkull,andhewasusingit—usingittoanticipateeverymoveagainsthim.

AsIsettheJackdawinpursuitofhim,RobertswasstealingFrenchshipsandsailingthemdownthecoasttoSierraLeone.HisRoyalFortuneremainedattheheadofhisfleetandhecontinuedsailingsouth-eastalongtheAfricancoast:raiding,pillaging,plunderingashewent,constantlymakingimprovementstohisvesselsandbecomingbetterarmed,morepowerfulandevenmorefearsomethanhealreadywas.

WehadalreadycomeacrossthesickeningevidenceofhiscampaignofterrorinJanuary,whenwesailedintotheaftermathofnotabattle,butamassacre:RobertsinTheRoyalFortunehadattackedtwelveshipsatanchorinWhydah.AllhadsurrenderedapartfromanEnglishslaveship,thePorcupine,andtheirrefusaltolaydownarmshadmadeRobertssofuriousthathehadorderedtheshipboarded,thensetalight.

HismenfloodedthedeckswithtarandsetflametothePorcupinewiththeslavesstillonboard,chainedinpairsbelowdecks.Thosewhojumpedoverboardtoescapetheblazeweretornlimbfromlimbbysharks,therestburnedaliveordrowned.Horrible,horribledeath.

Bythetimewearrivedtheseawasawashwithdebris.Vileblacksmokeshroudedtheentireneighbourhood,andsmoulderingintheocean,almostuptothewater-line,wastheburnt-outhullofthePorcupine.

Disgustedbywhatwe’dseen,wefollowedRoberts’strailsouth,thentoPrincipé,wherehe’danchoredhisshipinthebayandtakenapartyofmen

ashoretomakecampandgathersupplies.Wewaited.Then,asnightfell,IgavetheJackdaworderstowaitanhour

beforeattackingTheRoyalFortune.NextItookarow-boattoshore,pulledupthecowlofmyrobesandfollowedapathinland,ledbytheshoutsandsingingIcouldhearinthedistance.AsIgrewcloser,Ismelledthetangofthecampfireandthen,asIcrouchednearby,Icouldseeitssoftglowdividedbytheundergrowth.

Iwasinnomoodtotakeprisoners,soIusedgrenadoes.Justastheircaptainwasfamousforsayinghegavenoquarter,neitherdidI,andasthecamperuptedintoexplosionsandscreamsandachokingcloudofthickblacksmoke,Istrodetoitscentrewithmybladeandapistolattheready.

ThebattlewasshortbecauseIwasruthless.Itdidn’tmatterthatsomewereasleep,somenakedandmostofthemunarmed.PerhapsthemenwhopouredtaronthedecksofthePorcupinewereamongthosewhodiedatthepointofmyblade.Ihopedso.

Robertsdidnotstandandfight.Hegrabbedatorchandran.Behinduswerethescreamsofmymassacreatcamp,butIlefthiscrewtotheirdyingasIgavechase,followinghimup—upapathwaytoaguardtoweronapromontory.

“Why,whochasesmenow?”hecalled.“Isitaspectrecometospookme?OrthegauntremainsofamanIsenttohell,nowcrawlingbacktopesterme?”

“No,BlackBartRoberts,”Ishoutedback.“It’sI,EdwardKenway,cometocallahalttoyourreignofterror!”

Heracedintotheguardtowerandclimbed.Ifollowed,emergingbackintothenighttoseeRobertsstandingattheedgeofthetower,aprecipicebehindhim.Istopped.Ifhejumped,Ilosttheskull.Icouldn’taffordtolethimjump.

Hisarmholdingthetorchwaved.Hewassignalling—buttowhat?“I’llnotfightwhereyouhavetheadvantage,lad,”hesaid,breathingheavily.Helaiddownthetorch.Hewasgoingtojump.Istartedforwardtotryandcatchhimbuthe’dgone,andIscrambledtothe

edgeonmybellyandlookedover,onlynowseeingwhathadbeenhiddenfromme;whatBlackBartknewtobethere,whyhe’dbeensignalling.

ItwasTheRoyalFortune,andintheglowofherdecklampsIsawthatRobertshadlandedondeckandwasalreadydustinghimselfoffandpeeringuptherock-facetowhereIlay.Aroundhimwerehismen,andinthenextinstantIwaspullingbackfromthelipasmusketsbeganpoppingandballsbegansmackingintothestonearoundme.

Notfaraway,IsawtheJackdaw,rightontime.Goodlads.Ipickedupthetorchandbegansignallingtothem,andsoontheywerecloseenoughformetoseeAnneatthetiller,herhairblowinginthewindasshebroughttheJackdawtobearbythecliff,closeenoughformeto...Jump.Thechasewason.Wepursuedhimthroughthenarrowrockpassagesofthecoast-line,firingour

carriage-gunswhenwewereable.Inreturnhismenlobbedmortarshotatusandminereturnedwithmusketfireandgrenadoeswheneverwewerewithinrange.

Then—Sailho!—cametheBritishnavalwarshiptheHMSSwallow,andwithalurchofhorrorIrealizedshewasafterRoberts.Thisheavilyarmed,determinedwarshipwasnodoubtassickenedbythestoriesofhisexploitsaswehadbeen.ShewasafterRobertstoo.

Leavethemtoit?No.Icouldn’tallowthemtosinktheFortune.RobertshadTheObservatorySkullwithhim.Icouldn’triskitssinkingtothebottomofthesea,nevertobeseenagain.

“Thereisadevicewithinthatneedstaking,”ItoldAnne.“Ihavetoboardhermyself.”

Carriage-gunsboomedinthemorning,thethreeshipslockedincombatnow,theJackdawandSwallowwithacommonenemybutnotallies.Wecameunderfirefromallsides,asBritishshotpepperedourgunwalesandshookourshrouds.IgaveAnnetheordertomakehasteaway.

Me,Iwasgoingforaswim.Itisn’teasytoswimfromoneshiptoanother,especiallyifbothareinvolved

inbattle.Butthen,mostarenotgiftedwithmydetermination.Ihadthecoverofthehalf-lightonmyside,nottomentionthefactthatthecrewoftheFortunealreadyhadenoughtocontendwith.WhenIclimbedaboardIfoundashipindisarray.AshipIwasabletopassthroughvirtuallyundetected.

Itookmyfairshareofscalpsalongtheway,andI’dcutthethroatofthefirstmateandkilledthequartermasterbeforeIfoundBlackBart,whoturnedtofacemewithhissworddrawn.Hehadchanged,Inoted,almostwithamusement.HehadputonhisbestbibandtuckertomeettheEnglish:acrimsonwaistcoatandbreeches,ahatwitharedfeather,apairofpistolsonsilkslingsoverhisshoulders.Whathadn’tchangedwerethoseeyesofhis.Thosedarkeyesthatweresurelyareflectionoftheblackened,corrodedsoulinside.

Wefought,butitwasnotafightofanydistinction.BlackBartRobertswasacruelman,acunningman,awisemanifwisdomcanexistinamansodevoidof

humanity.Buthewasnotaswordsman.“ByJove,”hecalledaswefought,“EdwardKenway.HowcanInotbe

impressedbytheattentionyou’vepaidme?”Irefusedhimthecourtesyofareply.Ifoughton,relentlessly,confidentnotin

myskill—forthatwouldhavebeenarrogant,theEdwardKenwayofold—butinabeliefthatIwouldemergethevictor.WhichIdid,andatlasthefelltothedeckwithmybladeembeddedinhim,pullingmeintoacrouch.

Hesmiled,hisfingersgoingtowherethebladewasstuckinhischest.“Amerrylifeandashortone,aspromised,”hesaid.“HowwellIknowmyself.”Hesmirkedalittle.Hiseyesboredintome.“Whatofyou,Edward?Haveyoufoundthepeaceyouseek?”

“I’mnotaimingsohighasthat,”Itoldhim,“forwhatispeacebutaconfusionbetweentwowars?”

Helookedsurprisedforasecond,asthoughthinkingmeincapableofanythingotherthangruntsanddemandsforgoldoranothertankard.Howpleasingitwasthatinhisfinalmoments,BartholomewRobertswitnessedthechangeinme,knewthathisdeathatmyhandswasnotdrivenbygreedbutbysomethingnobler.

“You’reastoicthen.”Helaughed.“PerhapsIwaswrongaboutyou.Shemighthavehadsomeuseforyouafterall.”

“She?”Isaid,puzzled.“Ofwhomdoyouspeak?”“Oh...Shewholiesinwait.Entombed.Ihadhopedtofindher,toseeher

again.ToopenthedoorofthetempleandhearherspeakmynameoncemoreAita...”Mumbojumbo.Morebloodymumbojumbo.“Talksense,man.”“Iwasborntoosoon,likesomanyothersbefore.”“Where’sthedevice,Roberts?”Iaskedhim,tirednow—tiredofhisriddles,

evenattheend.Fromhisclotheshepulledtheskullandofferedittomewithfingersthat

shook.“Destroythisbody,Edward,”hesaid,asItookitandthelastofthelife

seepedfromhim.“TheTemplars...Iftheytakeme...”Hedied.Itwasnotforhim,norforthepeaceofhissoul,thatItossedhis

bodyoverboard,consigningittothedepths.ButsothattheTemplarswouldnothavehim.Whoever—whatever—thisSagehadbeen,thesafestplaceforhisbodywasatthebottomofthesea.

Andnow,GrandMasterTorres.I’mcomingforyou.

SIXTY-FOUR

ArrivinginHavanaafewdaysbefore,I’dfoundthecityinastateofhighalert.Torres,itappeared,hadbeenwarnedofmyimminentarrivalandwastakingnochances:soldierspatrolledthestreets,citizenswerebeingsearchedandforcedtorevealtheirfaces,andTorreshimselfhadgoneintohiding—accompanied,ofcourse,byhistrustybodyguard,ElTiburón.

I’dusedTheObservatorySkull.UnderthewatchfuleyeoftheAssassinBureauChief,RhonaDinsmore,ItookavialofTorres’sbloodinonehandandtheskullintheother.AsshewatchedmeworkIwonderedhowImightlooktoher:Likeamadman?Amagician?Amanusingancientscience?

“Throughthebloodofthegovernor,wecanseethroughhiseyes,”Itoldher.Shelookedasintriguedasshediddoubtful.Afterall,Iwasn’tsureofit

myself.I’dseenitworkinTheObservatory,butinimagesconjuredupinthechamberbyRoberts.HereIwastryingsomethingnew.

Ineedn’thaveworried.Theredofthebloodinthevialseemedtobathetheinsideoftheskullanditseyeholesburnedscarletastheskullfirstbegantoglow,thendisplayimagesonitspolisheddome.WewerelookingthroughtheeyesofGovernorLaureanoTorres,whowaslooking...

“That’s...That’sbythechurch,”shesaid,amazed.MomentslaterI’dbeeninpursuit,followedTorresasfarashisfort,where

thetraphadbeensprung.AtsomepointadecoyhadtakenTorres’splace.Itwashewhofellbeneathmyblade,andthere,waitingformebeneaththewallsofthefort,implacable,silentasever,wasElTiburón.

•••

Youshouldhavekilledmewhenyouhadthechance,Ithought.Becausewhereasonthelastoccasionhe’dbestedme,itwasadifferentEdwardKenwayhe’dmetinbattleonthatoccasion;thingshadchangedinthemeantime—Ihadchanged

—andIhadmuchtoprovetohim...Soifhe’dhopedtobeatmeeasily,ashehadbefore,hewasdisappointed.He

cameforward,feintingthenswitchingsides,butIanticipatedthemove,defendedeasily,hithimonthecounter,openedanickinhischeek.

Therewasnogruntofpain,notfromElTiburón.Butinthosecloudyeyeswasjustthemeresthint,thetiniestglimmerofsomethingIhadn’tseenlasttimewefought.Fear.

Thatgavemeaboostbetterthananyshotofliquor,andonceagainIcameforwardwithmybladesflashing.Hewasforcedontothebackfoot,defendingleftandright,tryingtofindaweakspotinmyattackbutfailing.Wherewerehisguards?Hehadn’tsummonedthem,believingthiswouldbeaneasykill.

Buthowwronghewas,Ithought,asIpressedforward,dodgedtomyleftandswipedback-handedwithmyblade,openingagashinhistunicandadeepcutinhisstomachthatbegangushingblood.

Itslowedhimdown.Itweakenedhim.Iallowedhimtocomeforward,pleasedtoseehisswordstrokesbecomingmorewildandhaphazard,asIcarriedonharryinghim.Smallbutbloodystrikes.Wearinghimdown.

Hewasslowthen,hispainmakinghimcareless.AgainIwasabletodriveforwardwithmycutlass,slashupwardswithmyhiddenbladeandtwistitinhisstomach.Amortalblow,surely?

Hisclotheswereraggedandblood-stained.Bloodfromhisstomachwoundsplatteredtotheground,andhestaggeredwithpainandexhaustion,lookingatmemutely,butwithallthepainofdefeatinhiseyes.

UntilatlastIputhimdownandhelay,losingpreciouslife-blood,slowlydyingintheheartlessHavanasun.Icrouched,bladetohisthroatreadytoplungeitupbeneathhischinintohisbrain.Enditquickly.

“Youhumbledmeonce,andItookthathardlessonandIbetteredmyself...”Itoldhim.“Dieknowingthatforallourconflicts,youhelpedmakeasoldieroutofascoundrel.”

Myblademadeamoist,squelchingsoundasIfinishedit.“Leavethislifeforalastingpeace,downamongthedead,”Itoldhiscorpse,

andleft.

SIXTY-FIVE

Desperate,Torreshadfled.Withalastthrowofthedice,he’ddecidedtoseekoutTheObservatoryforhimself.

ItooktheJackdawinpursuit,myheartsinkingaswitheachpassinghourtherewasnosightingofTorres,andwitheachpassinghourwegrewclosertoTulum.Wouldhefindit?Didhealreadyknowwhereitwas?Hadhefoundanotherpoorsoultotorture.AnAssassin?

WecamearoundthecoastofTulum,andtherewasTorres’sgalleonatanchor,smallerconsortsbobblingbyhersides.WesawtheglintofspyglassesandIorderedhardport.MomentslaterblacksquaresappearedinthehulloftheSpanishgalleonandsunlightshonedullyoffgun-barrelsbeforetherewasathudandapuffoffireandsmoke,andballsweresmackingintousandintothewateraroundus.

Thebattlewouldcontinuebutitwouldhavetocontinuewithoutitscaptainandalso—assheinsistedoncomingwithme—itsquartermaster.TogetherAnneandIdivedoffthegunwaleintobrightbluewaterandswamforshore,thenbeganthetrekupthepathtoTheObservatory.

Itwasn’tlongbeforewecameuponthefirstcorpses.Justasthemenonthegalleonwerefightingfortheirlivesagainstthe

onslaughtoftheJackdaw,sothemenwithTorreshadbeendoingthesame.Theyhadbeenambushedbythenatives,theguardiansofTheObservatory,andfromupaheadwecouldhearthesoundsofmoreconflict,desperateshoutsasthemenattherearofthecolumntriedinvaintofrightenoffthenatives.

“ThislandisundertheprotectionofKingPhilip.Tellyourmentodisperseordie!”

Butitwastheywhowoulddie.AswepassedthroughtheundergrowthashortdistanceawayfromthemIsawtheirterrified,uncomprehendingfacesgofromthemonolithicedificeofTheObservatory—wherehadthatcomefrom?—toscanningthelonggrassaroundthem.Theywoulddielikethat:terrifiedand

uncomprehending.AttheentrancetoTheObservatoryweremorebodiesbutthedoorwasopen

andsomehadclearlymadeitinside.Annebademegoin;shewouldstandguard,andsoforthesecondtime,Ienteredthatstrangeandsacredplace,thathugetemple.

AsIsteppedinsideIrememberedthelasttime,whenRobertsmurderedhismenratherthanletthembeunbalancedbywhattheysawinTheObservatory.Sureenough,justasIcreptintothevastentrancechamber,terrifiedSpanishsoldierswerefleeingscreaming,theireyessomehowblank,asthoughwhateverlifeinthemhadalreadybeenextinguished.Asthoughtheywerecorpsesrunning.

TheyignoredmeandIletthemgo.Good.They’ddistracttheguardiansofTheObservatoryontheoutside.Ipressedonwards,climbingstonesteps,passingalongthebridgechamber—moreterrifiedsoldiers—thentowardsthemaincontrolchamber.

IwashalfwaytherewhenTheObservatorybegantohum.Thesameskull-crushingsoundI’dheardonmyfirstvisit.Ibrokeintoarun,pushingpastmorefranticsoldierstryingtomaketheirescapeanddashingintothemainchamberwherestonecrumbledfromthewallsasTheObservatoryseemedtoshakeandvibratewiththedroningnoise.

Torresstoodattheraisedcontrolpanel,tryingtomakehimselfheardabovethedin,callingtoguardswhowereeithernolongerthereortryingtomaketheirescape,tryingtonegotiatethestonethatfellaroundus.

“Searchthearea.Findawaytostopthismadness,”hescreamedwithhishandsoverhisears.Heturnedandwithalurchsawme.

“He’shere.Killhim,”heshouted,pointing.Spittleflew.InhiseyeswassomethingI’dneverhavebelievedhimcapableof:panic.“Killhim!”Justtwoofhisbravebutfoolhardymenwereuptothechallenge,

andasthechambershook,seeminglyworkingitselfloosearoundus,Imadeshortworkofthem.UntiltheonlymenleftinthechamberwereTorresandme.

ThentheTemplarGrandMastercasthiseyearoundthechamber,hisgazetravellingfromthedeadbodiesofhismenbacktome.Thepanichadgonenow.BackwastheTorresIremembered,andinhisfacewasnotdefeat,norfear,norevensadnessathisimminentdeath.Therewasfervour.

“Wecouldhaveworkedtogether,Edward,”heappealedwithhishandsoutstretched.“Wecouldhavetakenpowerforourselvesandbroughtthesemiserableempirestotheirknees.”

Heshookhisheadasiffrustratedwithme,asthoughIwereanerrantson.(No,sorry,mate,butI’manerrantsonnolonger.)“Thereissomuchpotentialinyou,Edward,”heinsisted,“somuchyouhave

notyetaccomplished.Icouldshowyouthings.Mysteriesbeyondanythingyoucouldimagine.”No.Heandhiskindhaddonenothingformesavetoseekthecurtailmentof

myfreedomandtakethelivesofmyfriends.StartingwiththenightinBristolwhenatorchinafarmyardwasflung,hiskindhadbroughtmenothingbutmisery.

Idrovethebladeinandhegruntedwithpainashismouthfilledwithbloodthatspilledoverhislips.

“Doesmymurderfulfilyou?”heaskedweakly.No,noitdidn’t.“I’monlyseeingajobdone,Torres.Asyouwouldhavedonewithme.”“Aswehavedone,Ithink,”hemanaged.“Youhavenofamilyanymore,no

friends,nofuture.Yourlossesarefargreaterthanours.”“Thatmaybe,butkillingyourightsafargreaterwrongthaneverIdid.”“Youhonestlybelievethat?”“Youwouldseeallofmankindherdedintoaneatlyfurnishedprison,safeand

sober,yetdullbeyondreasonandsappedofallspirit.So,aye,witheverythingI’veseenandlearntintheselastyears,Idobelieveit.”

“Youwearyourconvictionswell,”hesaid.“Theysuityou...”ItwasasthoughI’dbeeninatrance.ThenoiseofTheObservatory,therattle

ofstonefallingaroundme,thescreamsofthefleeingtroops:allofithadfadedintothebackgroundasIspoketoTorres,andIonlybecameawareofitagainwhenthelastbreathdiedonhislipsandhisheadlolledonthestone.Therewasthenoiseofadistantbattle,soldiersbeingruthlesslydespatched,beforeAnne,AdewaléandAhTabaiburstintothechamber.Theirswordsweredrawnandstreakedwithblood.Theirpistolssmoked.

“TorresawakenedTheObservatorysomethingfierce,”IsaidtoAhTabai.“Arewesafe?”

“Withthedevicereturned,Ibelieveso,”hereplied,indicatingtheskull.Annewaslookingaroundherself,open-mouthed.Evenpartlydestroyedin

thewakeoftherockfall,thechamberwasstillasighttosee.“Whatdoyoucallthisplace?”shesaid,awe-struck.

“CaptainKenway’sfolly,”saidAdewalé,shootingmeasmile.“Wewillsealthisplaceanddiscardthekey,”announcedAhTabai.“Until

anotherSageappears,thisdoorwillremainlocked.”“TherewerevialswhenIcameherelast,”Itoldhim,“filledwiththebloodof

ancientmen,Robertssaid.Butthey’regonenow.”“Thenit’suptoustorecoverthem,”saidAhTabaiwithasigh,“beforethe

Templarscatchwindofthis.Youcouldjoinusinthatcause.”Icould.Icould.But...“OnlyafterIfixwhatImangledbackhome.”TheoldAssassinnodded,thenasthoughremindedofit,heremovedaletter

fromhisrobesthathehandedtome.“Itarrivedlastweek.”TheyleftmeasIreadit.Ithinkyouknowthenewsitcontained,don’tyou,mysweet?

SIXTY-SIX

OCTOBER1722

Wehadgoodreasontocelebrate.Sowedid.However,withmynewknowledgehadcomeadecreasedinterestininebriation,soIlefttheexuberanceinthehandsoftheJackdawcrew,whobuiltfiresandroastedahoganddancedandsanguntiltheyhadnoenergyleft,whentheysimplycollapsedandsleptwheretheyfell,thenpulledthemselvestotheirfeet,grabbedthenearestflaskofliquorandbeganagain.

Me,IsatontheterraceofmyhomesteadwithAnne,AdewaléandAhTabai.“Gentlemen,howdoyoufindithere?”Iaskedthem.I’dofferedit—myhomeastheirbase.“Itwillworkwellforus,”saidAhTabai,“butourlong-termgoalmustbeto

scatterouroperations.Toliveandworkamongthepeopleweprotect,justasAltaïrIbn-La’Ahadoncecounselled.”

“Well,untilthattime,it’syoursasyouseefit.”“Edward...”IhadalreadystoodtoseeAnne,butturnedtoAdewalé.“Yes?”“CaptainWoodesRogerssurvivedhiswounds,”hetoldme.Icursed,

rememberingtheinterruption.“HehassincereturnedtoEngland.Shamedandingreatdebt,butnolessathreat.”

“IwillfinishthatjobwhenIreturn.Youhavemyword.”Henodded,andweembracedbeforeweparted,leavingmetojoinAnne.Wesatinsilenceforamoment,smilingatthesongs,untilIsaid,“I’llbe

sailingforLondoninthenextfewmonths.I’dbeahopefulmanifyouwerebesideme.”

Shelaughed.“EnglandisthewrongwayroundtheglobeforanIrishwoman.”

Inodded.Perhapsitwasforthebest.“WillyoustaywiththeAssassins?”Iaskedher.

Sheshookherhead.“No.Ihaven’tthatkindofconvictioninmyheart.You?”“Intime,aye,whenmymindissettledandmybloodiscooled.”Justthenweheardacryfromafar,ashipsailingintothecove.Welookedat

oneanother,bothofusknowingwhatthearrivaloftheshipmeant—anewlifeforme,anewlifeforher.Ilovedherinmyownway,andIthinkshelovedme,butthetimehadcometopart,andwediditwithakiss.

“You’reagoodman,Edward,”saidAnne,hereyesshiningasIstood.“Ifyoulearntokeepsettledtooneplaceformorethanaweek,you’llmakeafinefathertoo.”

Ileftherandheadeddowntothebeach,wherealargeshipwascomingintodock.Thegang-boardwasloweredandthecaptainappearedholdingthehandofalittlegirl,abeautifullittlegirl,whoshonebrighterthanhope,justnineyearsold.

AndIthoughtyoulookedthespittingimageofyourmother.

SIXTY-SEVEN

Alittlevision,youwere.JenniferKenway,adaughterIneverevenknewIhad.Embarkingonavoyage,whichwentagainstyourgrandfather’swishesbuthadyourgrandmother’sblessing,you’dsailedtofindme,inordertogivemethenews.

Mybelovedwasdead.(DidyouwonderwhyIdidn’tcry,Iwonder,aswestoodonthedockat

Inagua?SodidI,Jenny.SodidI.)OnthatvoyagehomeIgottoknowyou.AndyettherewerestillthingsIhad

tokeepfromyoubecauseIstillhadmuchIneededtodo.Before,whenItalkedabouthavinglooseendstotie,businesstotakecareof?Well,therewerestillmorelooseendstotie.Stillmorebusinesstosettle.

•••

ItookaskeletoncrewtoBristol,afewofmymosttrustedmen.WesailedtheAtlantic,ahard,roughcrossing,madebearablebyastayintheAzores,thencontinuedourjourneytotheBritishIslesandtoBristol.Tohome—toaplaceIhadn’tvisitedfornighonadecade.AplaceIhadbeenwarnedagainsteverreturningto.

AswecameintotheBristolChanneltheblackflagoftheJackdawwasbroughtdown,foldedup,andplacedcarefullyinachestinmycabin.InitsplaceweraisedtheRedEnsign.Itwouldbeenoughtoallowustolandatleast,andoncetheportmarshalshadworkedouttheJackdawwasnotanavalvessel,I’dbeashoreandtheshipanchoredoffshore.

AndthenIsawitforthefirsttimeinsolong,theBristoldock,andIcaughtmybreath.IhadlovedKingston,HavanaandaboveallNassau.Butdespiteeverythingthathadhappened—ormaybebecauseofit—herewasstillmyhome.

HeadsturnedinmydirectionasIstrodealongtheharbour,afigureof

mystery,dressednotlikeapiratebutsomethingelse.Perhapssomeoftheolderonesrememberedme:merchantsI’ddonebusinesswithasasheep-farmer,menI’ddrunkwithinthetaverns,whenI’dboastedofgoingofftosea.Tongueswouldwag,andnewswouldtravel.Howfar?Iwondered.ToMatthewHagueandWilson?ToEmmettScott?WouldtheyknowthatEdwardKenwaywasback,strongerandmorepowerfulthanbefore,andthathehadscorestosettle?

Ifoundaboarding-houseintownandthererestedthenight.ThenextmorningIbarteredforahorseandsaddleandsetoffforHatherton,ridinguntilIreachedmyfather’soldfarmhouse.

WhyIwentthere,I’mnotquitesure.IthinkIjustwantedtoseeit.Andsoforlongmomentsthat’swhatIdid.Istoodbythegateintheshadeofatreeandcontemplatedmyoldhome.Ithadbeenrebuilt,ofcourse,andwasonlypartlyrecognizableasthehouseinwhichIhadgrownup.Butonethingthathadremainedthesamewastheouthouse:theouthousewheremymarriagetoyourmotherhadbegun,theouthouseinwhichyouwereconceived,Jennifer.

Ileft,thenhalfwaybetweenHathertonandBristol,aroadIknewsowell,IstoppedataplaceIalsoknewwell.TheAuldShillelagh.Itetheredmyhorseoutside,madesureshehadwater,thensteppedintofinditalmostexactlyasIrememberedit:thelowceilings,adarknessthatseemedtoseepfromthewalls.ThelasttimeIwashereIhadkilledaman.Myfirstman.Manymorehadfallenbeneathmybladesince.

Moretocome.Behindthebarwasawomaninherfifties,andsheraisedhertiredheadto

lookatmeasIapproached.“Hello,Mother,”Isaid.

SIXTY-EIGHT

Shetookmetoasidetableawayfromthepryingeyesofthefewdrinkersthere.“Soit’struethen?”sheaskedme.Herlonghairhadgreystreaksinit.Her

facewasdrawnandtired.Itwasonly(only?)tenyearssinceI’dlastseenherbutitwasasthoughshehadagedtwenty,thirty,more.Allmyfault.“What’strue,Mother?”Iaskedcarefully.“You’reapirate?”“No,Mother,I’mnotapirate.Nolonger.I’vejoinedanOrder.”“You’reamonk?”Shecastaneyeovermyrobes.“No,Mother,I’mnotamonk.Somethingelse.”Shesighed,lookingunimpressed.Overatthebar,thelandlordwastowelling

tankards,watchinguswiththeeyeofahawk.Hebegrudgedherthetimeshespentawayfromthebarbutwasn’tabouttosayanything.NotwiththepirateEdwardKenwayaround.

“Andyoudecidedtocomeback,didyou?”shewassaying.“Iheardthatyouhad.Thatyousailedintoportyesterday,steppedoffaglitteringgalleonlikesomekindofking.ThebigI-am,EdwardKenway.That’swhatyoualwayswanted,wasn’tit?”

“Mother...”“Thatwaswhatyouwerealwaysgoingonabout,wasn’tit?Wantingtogooff

andmakeyourfortune,makesomethingofyourself,becomeamanofquality,wasn’tit?Thatinvolvedbecomingapirate,didit?”Shesneered.Ididn’tthinkI’deverseenmymothersneerbefore.“Youwereluckytheydidn’thangyou.”Theystillmightiftheycatchme.“It’snotlikethatanymore.I’vecometomakethingsright.”Shepulledafacelikeshe’dtastedsomethingnasty.AnotherexpressionI’d

neverseenbefore.“Ohyes,andhowdoyouplantodothat?”Iwavedahand.“Nothaveyouworkinghere,forastart.”

“I’llworkwhereverIlike,youngman,”shescoffed.“Youneedn’tthinkyou’repayingmeoffwithstolengold.Goldthatbelongedtootherfolksbeforetheywereforcedtohandittoyouatthepointofyoursword.Eh?Isthatit?”

“It’snotlikethat,Ma,”Iwhispered,feelingyoungallofasudden.NotlikethepirateEdwardKenwayatall.Thiswasn’thowI’dimagineditwouldbe.Tears,embraces,apologies,promises.Notlikethis.

Ileanedforward.“Idon’twantittobelikethis,Ma,”Isaidquietly.Shesmirked.“Thatwasalwaysyourtrouble,wasn’tit,Edward?Neverhappy

withwhatyougot.”“No...”Ibegan,exasperated,“Imean...”“Iknowwhatyoumean.Youmeanyoumadeamessofthings,thenyouleft

ustoclearupyourmess,andnowyou’vegotsomefineryaboutyou,andabitofmoney,youthinkyoucancomebackandpaymeoff.You’renobetterthanHagueandScottandtheircronies.”

“No,no,it’snotlikethat.”“Iheardyouarrivedwithalittlegirlintow.Yourdaughter?”“Yes.”Shepursedherlipsandnodded,alittlesympathycreepingintohereyes.“It

washerwhotoldyouaboutCaroline,wasit?”Myfistsclenched.“Shedid.”“ShetoldyouCarolinewassickwiththepox,andthatherfatherrefusedher

medicine,andthatsheendedupwastingawayatthathouseonHawkinsLane.Shetoldyouthat,didshe?”

“Shetoldmethat,Ma,yes.”Shescratchedatherheadandlookedaway.“Ilovedthatgirl.Caroline.

Reallylovedher.Likeadaughtershewastome,untilshewentaway.”Sheshotmeareproachfullook.Thatwasyourfault.“Ivisitedthefuneral,justtopaymyrespects,justtostandatthegate,butScottwasthere,andallhiscronies,MatthewHagueandthatWilsonfellow.Theyranmeofftheplace.SaidIwasn’twelcome.”

“They’llpayforthat,Ma,”Isaidthroughclenchedteeth.“They’llpayforwhatthey’vedone.”

Shelookedquicklyatme.“Ohyes?Howaretheygoingtopaythen,Edward?Tellmethat.Yougoingtokillthem,areyou?Withyoursword?Yourpistols?Wordis,they’vegoneintohiding,themenyouseek.”

“Ma...”“Howmanymenhavediedatyourhand,eh?”sheasked.

Ilookedather.Theanswer,ofcourse,wascountless.Shewasshaking,Inoticed.Withfury.“Youthinkthatmakesyouaman,don’tyou?”shesaid,andIknewherwords

wereabouttohurtmorethananyblade.“Butdoyouknowhowmanymenyourfatherkilled,Edward?None.Notone.Andhewastwicethemanyouare.”

Iwinced.“Don’tbelikethis.IknowIcouldhavedonethingsdifferently.IwishI’ddonethingsdifferently.ButI’mbacknow—backtosortoutthemessImade.”

Shewasshakingherhead.“No,no,youdon’tunderstand,Edward.Thereisnomessanymore.Themessneededsortingoutwhenyouleft.ThemessneededsortingoutwhenyourfatherandIclearedupwhatremainedofourhomeandtriedtostartagain.Itputyearsonhim,Edward.Years.Themessneededsortingoutwhennobodywouldtradewithus.Notaletterfromyou.Notaword.Yourdaughterwasborn,yourfatherdied,andnotapeepfromthegreatexplorer.”

“Youdon’tunderstand.Theythreatenedme.Theythreatenedyou.TheysaidifIeverreturned,they’dhurtyou.”

Shepointed.“Youdidmorehurtingthantheyevercould,myson.Andnowyou’reheretostirthingsupagain,areyou?”

“Thingshavegottobeputright.”Shestood.“Notinmyname,theydon’t.I’llhavenothingtodowithyou.”Sheraisedhervoicetoaddresseverybodyinthetavern.Onlyafewwould

hearher,butwordwouldsoonspread.“Youhearthat?”shesaidloudly.“Idisownhim.Thegreatandfamouspirate

EdwardKenway,he’snothingtodowithme.”Handsflatonatabletop,sheleanedforwardandhissed,“Nowgetout,no-

son-of-mine.GetoutbeforeItellthesoldierswherethepirateEdwardKenwayistobefound.”

Ileft,andwhen,onthejourneybacktomyboarding-houseinBristol,Irealizedmycheekswerewet,Iallowedmyselftocry,gratefulforonethingatleast.Gratefulthattherewasnobodyaroundtoseemytearsorhearmywailsofgrief.

SIXTY-NINE

So—theyhadgonetoground,theguiltymen.Yes,therehadbeenotherstherethatnight—theCobleighsamongthem—butIhadnodesiretoaccountforthemall.Thereislittletasteintakingthelivesofmengivenorders.ThemenIwantedgavethoseorders:Hague,Scottand,ofcourse,themanwholefttheinsigniaoftheTemplaronmyfaceallthoseyearsago.Wilson.

Menwhohidfromme.Whoseguiltwasconfirmedbythefactthattheywerehidingfromme.Good.Letthemshakewithfear.Thatnight,allbeingwell,Scott,WilsonandHaguewouldbedead.

ButtheyknewIwascoming,somyinvestigationswouldhavetobeconductedalittlemorediscreetly.WhenIleftmyboarding-housethenextmorningIdidsoknowingIwasbeneaththegazeofTemplarspies.IduckedintoatavernIknewofold—betterthanmypursuers,nodoubt—andthankedmyluckystarsitstillhadthesamerearprivyitalwayshad.

Bytheback-doorIheldmybreathagainstthestink,quicklystrippedoffmyrobesandchangedintoclothesI’dbroughtwithmefromtheJackdaw—clothesI’dlastwornmany,manymoonsago:mylong,buttoned-upwaistcoat,kneebreeches,whitestockingsand,ofcourse,myslightlybatteredbrowntricorn.AndthusattiredIleftthetavern,emergingonadifferentstreetadifferentperson.Justanothermerchantonhiswaytomarket.

Ifoundherthere,exactlywhereIexpected,andjoggedthebasketonherarmsoshe’dknowIwasbehindher,whispering,“Igotyourmessage.”

“Good,”saidRose,withoutturningherhead,bendingtoinspectflowers.Withaquicklookleftandright,shewhippedoutaheadscarfandtieditoverherhead.

“Followme.”AmomentlaterRoseandIloiteredneardilapidatedstablesinadeserted

cornerofthemarket.Iglancedatthestructure,thenbackagainwithajoltofrecognition.I’dstabledmyownhorsetheremanyyearsago.Ithadbeennew

then,andconvenientforthemarket,butthesprawlofstallshadshiftedovertheinterveningyears;itsentranceshadmoved,andthestableshadfallenintodisuse,fitonlyforloiteringnearby,conductingclandestinemeetings,asweweredoing.

“You’vemetyoungJennifer,haveyou?”shesaid.Sheshiftedthebasketonherarm.She’dbeenayounggirlwhenIfirst

encounteredheratTheAuldShillelagh.Tenyearslatershewasstillyoungbutmissingwasthatspark,thatrebelliousstreakthatmadeherrunawayinthefirstplace.Adecadeofdrudgeryhaddonethattoher.

Andyet,liketheglowingsparksofadyingfire,therewassomeofheroldnatureleftbecauseshe’dsentmealetterrequestingtomeetme,andhereshewaswiththingstotellme.Amongthem,Ihoped,thewhereaboutsofhermasterandhisfriends.

“Ihave,”Itoldher.“I’vemetmydaughter.She’ssafeonmyship.“Shehasyoureyes.”Inodded.“Shehashermother’sbeauty.”“She’sabeautifulgirl.Wewereallveryfondofher.”“Butwilful?”Rosesmiled.“Oh,yes.Shewasdeterminedthatsheshouldseeyouwhen

MistressCarolinepassedawaylastyear.”“I’msurprisedEmmettallowedit.”Rosechortleddrily.“Hedidn’t,sir.Itwasthemistressofthehousewho

organizedit.HerandMissJennifercookeditupbetweenthem.ThefirsthisnibsknewofitwaswhenhewokeupthatmorningtofindMissJennifergone.Hewasn’thappy.Hewasn’thappyatall,sir.”

“Meetings,werethere?”Shelookedatme.“Youcouldsaythat,sir,yes.”“Whocametoseehim,Rose?”“MasterHague...”“AndWilson?”Shenodded.Alltheconspirators.“Andwherearetheynow?”“Idon’trightlyknow,sir,”shesaid.Isighed.“Thenwhyinvitemehereifyou’venothingtotellme?”Shesaid,herfaceturnedtome,“ImeanIdon’tknowwherethey’rehiding,

sir,butIdoknowwhereMr.Scottplanstobetonight,forIhavebeenaskedtotakehimsomefreshclothesathisoffices.”

“Thewarehouse?”“Yes,sir.“Hehasbusinessitemstocollectaswell,sir.Heplanstobetherepersonally.

I’vebeenaskedtogotherewhennighthasfallen.”Ilookedatherlongandhard.“Why,Rose?”Isaid.“Whyareyouhelpingme

likethis?”Sheglancedthiswayandthat.“Becauseyouoncehelpedsavemefromafate

worsethandeath.BecauseCarolinelovedyou.Andbecause...”“What?”“Becausethatman,hewatchedherdie.Hewouldn’tlethergetthemedicine

sheneeded,notherorMrs.Scott,thebothofthemill.Mrs.ScottrecoveredbutMrs.Kenwayneverdid.”

ItstartledmetohearCarolinecalledMrs.Kenway.Ithadbeensolongsinceshe’dbeenreferredtothatway.

“Whydidhedenythemthemedicine?”“Pride,sir.Itwashimwhocaughtthesmallpoxfirstbutherecovered.He

thoughtMrs.ScottandMrs.Kenwayshouldbeabletoaswell.Butshebegantogetsuchterribleblistersalloverherface,sir.Oh,sir,you’veneverseenanythinglikeit...”

Iheldupahand,notwantingtohearmore—wantingtopreservetheimageIhadofCaroline.

“TherewasanepidemicinLondonandwethinkMr.Scottpickeditupthere.Eventheroyalfamilywereinfearofit.”

“Youdidn’tgetit?”Shelookedatmeguiltily.“Thestaffwereinoculated,sir.Headbutlersawto

it.Sworeustosilence.”Isighed.“Goodforhim.Hemayhavesavedyouagreatdealofsuffering.”“Sir.”Ilookedather.“Tonight,then?”“Tonight,sir,yes.”

SEVENTY

Ithadtobethatnight.“AreyouEdwardKenway?”she’dsaidtome.Mylandlady—Edithwashername—hadknockedonthedoortomyroom

andstoodonthethreshold,unwillingtoventurefurther.Herfacewasbloodless,hervoiceshookandherfingersworriedatthehemofherpinafore.

“EdwardKenway?”Ismiled.“Now,whywouldyousayathinglikethat,Edith?”

Sheclearedherthroat.“Theysaythatamanarrivedonaboat.Amandressedmuchlikeyouarenow,sir.AndtheysaythemanisEdwardKenway,whooncecalledBristolhishome.”

Thecolourhadcomebackintohercheeksnow,andshereddened,continuing,“ThereareotherswhosaythatEdwardKenwayhasreturnedhometosettlescores,andthatthoseagainstwhomhebearshisgrudgehavegoneintohiding,butbeingpowerfulmenhavecalledresourcesagainstyou—Imean,him.”

“Isee,”Isaidcarefully,“andwhatmannerofresourcesmightthesebe?”“AtroopofsoldiersheadedforBristol,sir,expectedtoarrivethisvery

evening.”“Isee.AndnodoubtheadingstraightforwhereverthisEdwardKenwayhas

hislodgings,whereuponEdwardKenwaywouldbeforcedtodefendhimself,andtherewouldsurelybeabloodybattle,withmanyliveslostandmuchdamagecaused?”

Sheswallowed.“Yes,sir.”“Well,youcanrestassured,Edith,thatnosuchunpleasantnesswilloccur

heretonight.ForI’msureEdwardKenwaywillmakecertainofit.Knowthisofhim,Edith.It’struehewasapirateonceandthathedidhisfairshareofdespicablethings,buthe’schosenadifferentpathnow.Heknowsthattoseedifferentlywemustthinkdifferentlyandhehaschangedhisthinking.”

Shelookedatmeblankly.“Verygood,sir.”“NowIshalltakemyleave,”Itoldher.“Doubtlessnevertoreturn.”“Verygood,sir.”OnthebedwasabundleofmythingsthatIpickedupandslungoverone

shoulder,thenthoughtbetterofit;insteadIpickedoutwhatIneeded:theskullandasmallpouchofcoinsthatIopened,pressinggoldintoEdith’shand.

“Oh,sir,that’smorethangenerous.”“You’vebeenverykind,Edith,”Isaid.Shestoodtooneside.“There’saback-door,sir,”shesaid.

•••

IwentviaatavernwhereIknewtofindtheJackdaw’scoxswain,awaitingmyorders.

“Birtwistle.”“Yes,sir.”“BringtheJackdawtotheharbourtonight.We’releaving.”“Yes,sir.”Iwentontothewarehousedistrictandusedthebackstreetsandrooftops.I

stayedlowandintheshadows.Ithought,Oh,Mary,ifyoucouldonlyseemenow.Scott’swarehousewasoneofmanyneartheports,themastsofberthedships

visibleovertheroofs.Mostofthewarehousesweredeserted,shutupforthenight.Onlyhishadsignsoflife:flamingtressetsthatpaintedasmallloadingareaashadeofflickeringorange;emptycartsnearby,andstandingbythecloseddoorapairofguards.Notsoldiers,atleast—hadtheyarrivedinthecityyet?—butlocalscarfacesslappingclubsintotheirpalms,whoprobablythoughtthiswasaneasyjob;whowereprobablylookingforwardtoatasteofalelater.

IstayedwhereIwas,ashadowinthedarkness,watchingthedoor.Washealreadyinthere?IwasstilldebatingwhentomakemymovewhenRosearrived.Sheworethesameheadscarfasearlierandherbasketbulgedwithclothesforherhatedlordandmaster,EmmettScott.

Thetwostrongarmsatthedoorsharedalasciviouslookastheysteppedforwardtointercepther.StickingtothesideoftheadjacentwarehouseIcreptwithinearshot.

“IsMr.Scotthere?”sheasked.“Ah,”saidagrinningscarfacewithaheavyWestCountryaccent.“Wellthat

alldependsonwho’sasking,don’tit,m’dear?”“Ihaveclothesforhim.”“You’dbethemaid,wouldyou?”“That’sright.”“Wellhe’shere,soyoubettergoin.”Iwascloseenoughtoseeherrollhereyesastheysteppedasideandlether

in.Right.SoScottwasinthere.InthedarkItestedtheactionofmyblade.Mustn’tbetoohasty,Ithought.

Mustn’tkillhim.Scotthadsometalkingtodobeforehedied.Imovedaroundtheedgeofthewarehousewall,sothatthetwostrongarms

werejustafewfeetawayfromme.Itwasjustaquestionofwaitingfortherightmomenttostr—

Frominsidecameascream.Rose.Itwasnolongeraquestionofwaitingfortherighttime.I’dsprungfromthedark,coveredthedistancebetweenmyselfandthesentries,engagedthebladeandslashedthethroatofthefirstonebeforeRose’sscreamhadevendieddown.ThesecondonecursedandswunghisclubbutIcaughthisflailingarm,jammedhimupagainstthewarehousewallandfinishedhimwiththebladeinhisback.HesliddownthewallevenasIcrouchedatthewicketdoorofthewarehouse,raisedahandandpusheditopen.

AmusketballzingedovermyheadasIrolledintotheentranceway,gettingaquickimpressionofawarehousestackedwithtea-chests,andagantrywithofficesonitatoneend.

Therewerethreefiguresonthegantry,oneofthemstandingontherailasthoughabouttojumpthetwentyfeetorsototheground.

Icametorestbehindastackofcrates,peekedaroundtheedgeandpulledbackasanotherballsmackedintothewoodnearby,showeringmewithwoodchips.Butmyquicklookwasenoughtoconfirmthat,yes,therewerethreepeopleonthegantryaboveme.TherewasWilson,whostoodwithapistolaimedatmyhidingplace.ToonesideofhimstoodEmmettScott,sweatingaswithtrembling,franticfingershetriedtoreloadanotherpistoltohandtoWilson.

AbovethemwasRose,whowobbledunsteadilyontherailing,terrified.Hermouthbled.Thepunishmentforherwarningscream,nodoubt.Herhandshadbeentiedandsheworeanoosearoundherneck.AllthatstoppedherfromdroppingfromhermakeshiftgallowswasWilson,whoheldherwithhisotherhand.

Ifheletgo,shefell.

“Holditthere,Kenway,”calledWilsonasthedustsettled.“Oryou’llhavethedeathofthemaidonyourhands.”

They’ddisarmme.Theywouldkillme,thenhangRoseforhertreachery.NotifIhaveanythingtodowithit.FrommygunbeltIpulledapistol,checkedtheballandpowder.“Itwasyoutherethatnight,wasn’tit,Wilson?Theleader?Youweretheone

inthehood?”Ihadtoknow.Ihadtobesure.“Aye,itwas.Andifithadbeenleftuptome,youallwouldhavediedthat

night.”Ialmostsmiled.Youmissedyourchance.UpontherailRosewhimperedbutcheckedherself.“Nowthrowoutthehiddenblade,Kenway.Ican’tholdherforever,”warned

Wilson.“Andwhataboutyou,Emmet?”Icalled.“Wereyouthere?”“Iwasnot,”heretorted,flusteredandfrightened.“Youwouldhavecelebratedmydeath,though?”“Youhavebeenathorninmyside,Kenway.”“Yourpridehasbeenyourundoing,Scott.Yourpridehasbeentheundoingof

usall.”“Youknownothing.”“Iknowthatyouallowedmybelovedtodie.”“Ilovedhertoo.”“NokindoflovethatIrecognize,Scott.”“Youwouldn’tunderstand.”“Iunderstandthatyourambitionandthirstforpowerhasledtothedeathsof

manypeople.Iunderstandthatnowyouwillpay.”FrominsidemyrobesItookathrowingknifeandweigheditinmypalm.It

wasabitdifferentfromusingtreesforpractisingwithatarget.Istoodandinchedtowardstheedgeofthestack,takingdeep,slowbreaths.Ready?Ready.“Comeon,Kenway,”calledWilson.“Wedon’thavealln—”Irolledoutfromcoveranddartedforwardandfoundmyaim,firingmypistol

andusingthethrowingknifeatthesametime.Bothmettheirtargets.EmmetScottspanawaywithaholeinhisforehead,

thepistoldroppinguselesslytotheplanksofthegantry,whileWilsonhad

returnedfirebeforemyknifefoundhisshoulder.Yellinginpain,hestaggeredbackandfellagainsttheofficewallwiththebladeembeddedinhisshoulder,fountainingbloodashescrabbledinvainforthesecondpistol.

Hisballhadfounditsmark.Ifeltitthudintomyshoulderbutcouldn’tletittakemedown.Icouldn’tevenletitslowmedownbecauseWilsonhadletgoofRoseandRosewasfalling,hermouthwideinascreamIdidn’thearabovetheechoesofthegunshotsandtherushingofpaininmyhead.

Shefellandtheropeunspooledbehindher.Ihadanimageoffailure,wheretheropetautenedandherbodyjerkedandhernecksnapped.No.Ihitacrateatfullpelt,steppedupinarunandlaunchedmyselfoffit.I

twisted,engagedmybladeandwithayellofeffortslicedtherope,caughtRosearoundthewaistandthepairofusslammedheavilyandpainfullytothestonefloorofthewarehouse.

Butalive.FromaboveIheardWilsoncursing.Isnatchedasecondpistolfrommybelt

andsquintedthroughthegapsintheboardsaboveme,seeingthelightflickerandsqueezingoffashot.Therecameanotherscreamfromthegantry,thenacrashashemadehiswayintotheoffices.

Idraggedmyselftomyfeet.Thepainfrommywoundwasintense,andtheolderwoundinmyflankflareduptoo,makingmelimpasImadeittothestepsofthegantryandclimbedupinpursuitofWilson.Icamecrashingthroughtheoffice,whereIfoundanopenback-doorleadingtosteps,andatthetopIcaughtmybreathandleanedontherailforsupportasIpeeredoverthewarehouses.

Nosign.Justthedistantclatteringofshipsatrestandthesquawkofthegulls.Iconcentrated,usingtheSense,andIheardsomething.ButnotWilson.WhatIheardwasthesoundofmarchingfeetastheyapproachedtheportarea.Theywerecoming.Thesoldierswerecoming.IcursedandlimpedbackinsidetocheckonRose.Shewouldbeokay.NowI

ranbacktofollowatrailofbloodleftbyWilson.

SEVENTY-ONE

Youweresafeinmycabin.Asleep,soI’mtold,andyoumissedwhathappenednext.ForthatI’mthankful.

IreachedtheharbourtofindthatWilsonhaddiedontheway.Hisbodylayatthebottomofthesteps.He’dbeengoingtoashipIrecognized.OnethatwhenI’dlastseenitwascalledtheCarolinebuthadsincebeenrenamed,inhonourofthewomanMatthewHaguehadgoneontomarry.ItwascalledtheCharlotte.

Haguewasinthere.Amanawaitingdeaththoughhedidn’tknowityet.Icouldseepoorlydefinedfiguresinthegreyhazeoftheeveningmovingacrossthesterngunwale.Guards,butitdidn’tmatter.Nothingwasgoingtostopmegettingonboardthatship.

IftheguardshadseenorheardWilsonfall,theyprobablythoughthewasadrunk.Iftheysawmesquattingbyhisbody,thentheyprobablythoughtIwasadrunktoo.Theydidn’tcare.Notyet.

IcountedfourofthemasIracedalongtheharbourwalluntilIreachedwheretheJackdawhadnotlongdocked.Inbetweenthetwoshipswasasmallersail-boatheldbyalinethatIunwoundandletgo,givingthesternofthecraftashovetosetitoffbeforedashingbacktomyship.

“Hanley,”Iaddressedthequartermaster.“Yes,sir.”“Preparetheguns.”He’dbeensittingwithhisfeetuponthenavigationtablebutdraggedthem

off.“What?Why,sir?Andbloodyhell,sir,what’supwithyou?”“Musketballintheshoulder.”“Didyougetthemenyouwanted?”“Twoofthem.”“I’llfetchthedoc...”“Leaveit,Hanley,”Igrowled.“Itcanwait.Look,there’savesseltoour

starboard,nameofCharlotte.OnitisthethirdmanIseek.Readythestarboard

gunsandifmyplansfail,blastheroutofthewater.”Irantothecabindoorthenstopped,screwingupmyfaceinpainasIturned

tohim.“And,Hanley?”“Yes,sir?”Hehadstood,hisfaceapictureofworry.“You’dbetterpreparethesterngunsaswell.Makesurethecrewisarmed.

Therearesoldiersontheway.”“Sir?”Igavehimanapologeticlook.“Justlooksharp,Hanley.Ifallgoeswell,we’llbeoutofthisinmoments.”Hedidn’tlookreassured.Helookedevenmoreworried.IgavehimwhatI

hopedwasaconfidentsmile,thensweptawedgefrombeneaththecabindoorasIleft.

Thesail-boathadbegunitsdriftouttosea.IheardashoutfromthedeckoftheCharlotteastheyspottedit.Thelaughter.Fools.Theysawthejoke,notthedanger.IleaptoverboardfromtheJackdaw,plantingmyfeetonthestoneoftheharbour,thenracedthefewyardstothesternoftheCharlotte.

“It’sWilson,”IshoutedinmybestapproximationofthedeadenforcerasIclambereduptheladder.AfaceappearedoverthegunwaletogreetmeandIplantedmyfistinit,draggedhimovertherailandhurledhimtothestonebelow.Hisscreamsalertedasecondmanwhocamerunningtowhatheassumedwasthesceneofanaccident—untilhesawme,andtheblade,whichgleamedinthemoonlightbeforeIsweptitback-handedacrosshisthroat.

Ignoringthelasttwosentries,Iranupthedecktowardsthecaptain’scabin,peeredthroughthewindowandwastreatedtothesightofMatthewHague,anolderandworriedMatthewHaguebythelooksofthings,standingawayfromatable.Withhimwashisdraughtsman.

Withaglancetoseethetwosentrieslumberingupthedecktowardsme,Idraggedopenthedoorofthecabin.“You,”Isaidtothedraughtsman.Haguedroppedagoblethe’dbeenholding.Theybothgoggledatme.Iriskedanotherglancebackatthesentries.Icursed,slammedthecabindoor

shut,wedgeditandturnedtomeetthetwoguards.Theycouldhaveescaped,Itoldmyselfastheydied.Itwastheirchoiceto

fightme.TomyportthehatchesoftheJackdaw’sgun-deckwereopeningandthemuzzlesofgunsappeared.Goodlads.Isawmenondeckbrandishingmusketsandswords.Somebodyshouted,“Youneedahand,Cap’n?”

No,Ididn’t.Iturnedbacktothecabindoor,pulledthewedgefreeand

snatchedopenthedoor.“Right,lastchance,”Iorderedthedraughtsman,whopracticallythrewhimselfatme.

“Archer,”wailedHague,butneitherofuswerelisteningasIhauledArcheroutofthecabinandjammeditshutbehindhim,Hagueimprisonednow.

“Getofftheship,”IbarkedatArcher,whoneedednofurtherinvitation,scrabblingforthestern.

NowIcouldhearthemarchingfeetofsoldiersastheyapproachedtheharbourwall.

“Tar!”Iappealedtomycrewontheotherdeck.“Barrelsoftarandquickaboutit.”

OnewastossedtomefromtheJackdawandIattackedit,openedit,spreaditbythedoorofthecabin.

“Please...”IcouldhearHaguefrominside.Hewasthumpingonthewedged-shutdoor.“Please...”

Iwasdeaftohim.ThemarchingwasclosernowAndIheardtheclatterofhorsehooves,therumbleofcartwheels.Iglancedtotheharbourwall,expectingtoseethetopsoftheirbayonetsasIemptiedasecondbarreloftaronthedeck.Woulditbeenough?Itwouldhavetodo.NowIsawthem.Themusketsofthesoldiersastheyappearedsilhouetted

alongthetopoftheharbourwall.Atthesametimetheysawme,pulledthemusketsfromtheirshouldersandtookaim.BymysidethecrewoftheJackdawdidthesameasIsnatchedupatorchandleapttotherat-lines,climbingtoapointwhereIcouldletgoofthetorch,diveofftheriggingandescapetheflames.

Ifthemusketsdidn’tgetmefirst,thatwas.Thencamethecommand.“Holdyourfire!”

SEVENTY-TWO

Theordercamefromacarriagethathadpulledupontheharbour,itsdooropeningbeforeitevenfinisheddrawingtoahalt.

Outskippedtwomen:one,dressedlikeafootman,whoarrangedstepsforthesecondman,atall,leangentlemanwhoworesmartclothes.

Athirdmanappeared.Hewasaportlygentlemaninalongwhitewig,frilledshirtandfinesatinjacketandbreeches.Amanwholookedasthoughhe’denjoyedmanyalunchinhistime,andmanyaglassofportandbrandytogowiththosemanylunches.

Thefootmanandthetallmangapedastheybecameawareofthemanygunspointingintheirdirection.Byaccidentordesign,they’dplacedthemselvesinthemiddle:thegunsofthesoldiersononeside,thecarriage-gunsandmusketsoftheJackdawontheother,andmeontherigging,readywithaflamingtorchtodroptothedeckbelow.

Theportlygentlemanmovedhismouthasthoughexercisingitinreadinesstospeak.Helacedhishandsacrosshischest,rockedbackonhisheels,andcalleduptome,“DoIhavethepleasureofaddressingCaptainEdwardKenway?”

“Andwhomightyoube?”Icalledback.Thatproducedashudderofamusementfromthesoldiersontheharbourwall.Theportlymansmiled.“You’vebeenawayalongtime,CaptainKenway.”IagreedIhad.Hislipssmackedandrearrangedthemselvesintoasmile.“Thenyouare

forgivenfornotknowingwhoIam.Ithink,however,thatyouwillknowmyname.ItisWalpole.SirRobertWalpole.IamtheFirstLordoftheTreasury,ChancelloroftheExchequerandLeaderoftheHouseofCommons.”

Iwasthinkingwhatanimpressivetitlethatwas,andhowhemustbeoneofthemostpowerfulmeninthelandwhen...Walpole.Itcouldn’tbe.

Buthewasnodding.“Yes,indeed,CaptainKenway.DuncanWalpole,the

manwhoselifeandidentityyoutookasyourown,wasmycousin.”Ifeltmyselftenseevenmore.Whatgamewasheplaying?Whowasthetall

manbyhisside?ItstruckmethathehadafamilyresemblancetoMatthewHague.Wasthishisfather,SirAubreyHague?

Walpolewaswavingareassuringhand.“Itisquiteallright.NotonlywasmycousininvolvedinaffairsIkeepatadistance,buthewasatreacherousman,amanblessed,I’mafraid,withfewprinciples.Amanpreparedtosellthesecretsofthosewhotrustedhimtothehighestbidder.IwasashamedtoseehimbeartheWalpolename.Ithinkperhapsinmanywaysyouhavedonemyfamilyagoodturn.”

“Isee,”Icalled,“andthat’swhyyou’rehere,isit?Tothankmeforkillingyourcousin?”

“Ohno,notatall.”“ThentowhatdoIowethepleasureofthisvisit?Asyoucansee,Ihaveother

matterstoattendto.”ThetorchgrumbledasIwaveditforeffect.Fromthewedgedcabinofthe

CharlottecameabangingsoundasHaguetriedtogetfree.Otherwise,therewasatensehushasthesoldiersandthesailorspeeredatoneanotheralongthebarrelsoftheirweapons,bothsetsofmenawaitingtheirorders.

“Well,CaptainKenway,it’sexactlythosemattersthatexerciseus,I’mafraid,”calledWalpole,“forIcannotallowyoutocontinueonyourpresentcourseofaction.Asamatteroffact,I’mgoingtohavetoaskyoutotossthetorchintheseaandcomedownfromthererightaway.Or,alas,Ishallhavethemenshootyou.”

Ichortled.“Youshootmeandmymenreturnfire,SirRobert.Ifearevenyouyourselfmightgetcaughtinthecrossfire.Nottomentionyourfriend—SirAubreyHague,isit?”

“Itisindeed,sir,”saidthetallmansteppingforward.“Icometopleadclemencyformyson.”

Hissonhadbeenadisappointmenttohim,Icouldsee.“Letmeseeyourfingers,”Idemanded.Hagueraisedhishands.ATemplarringglittered.Myhearthardened.“Andyou,SirRobert.”Hishandsremainedlacedacrosshisstomach.“You’llseenoringonme,

CaptainKenway.”“Whydoestheideatickleyou?FromwhatI’veseen,theTemplarsenjoyrank

andstatus.HowamItoknowthatIamnotaddressingtheirGrandMaster?”

Hesmiled.“Becausenopowerisabsolute,CaptainKenway,andmypurposehereisnottoactasambassadorforonesideorindeedtheother.Mypurposehereistopreventanactofbarbarism.”

Iscoffed.Barbarism?Itdidn’tseemtobotherthemwhentheywereburningmyparents’home.WherewasSirRobertWalpolethen?Sippingport,perhaps,withhisTemplarfriends?Congratulatinghimselfonabstainingfromtheirschemes.Hecouldaffordto,ofcourse.Hiswealthandpowerwasalreadyassured.

FromthecabinMatthewHaguesnivelledandwhimpered.“Youhavereturnedtotheseshoresonamissionofvengeance,Itakeit?”

calledWalpole.“TherearethosewithwhomIhavescorestosettle,yes.”Walpolenodded.“WoodesRogersbeingoneofthem?”Igaveashort,surprisedlaugh.“Yes.Hewouldbeoneofthem.”“WoulditmakeadifferenceifItoldyouthatRogerscurrentlylanguishesin

debtor’sprison?Thatthewoundsyouinflictedonhimhavelefthishealthinaterriblestateofdisrepair?ThathisOrderhasdisownedhim?Hishottemper,hiscontinuedslavetrading.Heisabrokenman,CaptainKenway.Iwonderifperhapsyoumightconsiderthatmattersettled?”

Hewasright.WhatmoreharmcouldmybladedotoRogersotherthantoputhimoutofhismisery?Eitherway...

“Heisnotmyimmediateconcern,”Icalled.“Thathonourbelongstothemaninthecabinbelow.”

Walpolegaveasadsmile.“Asilly,shallowboy,influencedbyothers.YoumustbelievemewhenItellyou,CaptainKenway,thattheprincipalmalefactorsinthatparticularepisodearealreadydeadatyourhands.RestassuredthatMatthew’scurrentshameispunishmentenoughforhiswrongdoing.”

Itookadeepbreath.IthoughtofmymotheraskingmehowmanyI’dkilled.IthoughtofBlackBart’scruelty.IthoughtofMaryRead’sspiritandAdewalé’scourageandBlackbeard’sgenerosity.

AndIthoughtofyou.TorreshadbeenwrongwhenhesaidIhadnobody.Ididhavesomebody.Ihadyou.You,whoshonewithhope.

“TodayIshouldliketomakeyouanoffer,CaptainKenway,”continuedWalpole.“AnofferIhopeyouwillfindfavourable,thatwillfinallydrawacurtainacrossthiswholesorryaffair.”

Heoutlinedhisproposals.Ilistened.Whenhewasfinished,Itoldhimmyansweranddroppedthetorch.

SEVENTY-THREE

Except,ofcourse,Idroppeditintothesea.Becauseheofferedpardonsformymenandme,andIsawtheirfacesturn

expectantlytome,everyoneofthemawantedmanwiththechanceofhavinghisslatewipedclean.Heofferedusall,everyman-jackofus,anewlife.

AndWalpolehadofferedmuchmorebesides.Property.Thechancetomakesomethingofmyself,withbusinesscontactsinLondon.WhenI’dfinallyclimbeddownfromtherigging,thesoldiershadputdowntheirmusketsandthecrewoftheJackdawrelaxed;whenMatthewHaguehadbeenreleasedandruntohisfatherandofferedmetearfulapologies,Walpoletookmyarmandledmeaway,speakingofwhoIwouldbeintroducedtoinLondon:theStephenson-Oakleyfamily,alawyer,anassistantbythenameofBirchtohelpmeinmynewbusinessdealings.

Mymercywouldbehandsomelyrewarded,heassuredme.InreturnhewouldseetoitthatIbecamethemanIalwayswantedtobe:amanofquality.

Ofcourse,Ihadsincegainedgreaterexpectationsofmyself.Butmoney,businessandahouseinLondonwouldbeafinefoundationonwhichtobuildanewandricherlife.Afinefoundationindeed.

AplaceIcouldusetoattendtomyotherbusiness.MyAssassinbusiness.Shallwego,mydarling?ShallwesetsailforLondon?

LISTOFCHARACTERS

Adewalé:sailorAhTabai:AssassinAlbert:youngboyArcher:Hague’sdraughtsmanBarnet,Captain:privateerBarrow,Tom:pirate,helpedestablishNassauBirtwistle:Jackdaw’scoxswainBlaney:sailorontheEmperorBonnet,Stede:merchantBonny,Anne:barmaidatTheOldAveryBonny,James:buccaneer,husbandofAnneBonnyBramah,Captain:ship’scaptainCobleigh,Seth:sonofTomCobleighCobleigh,Tom:manwhofrequentstheAuldShillelaghDavis,CaptainHowell:Welshpirate,1690–1719Dinsmore,Rhona:AssassinBureauChiefDolzell,CaptainAlexander:captainoftheEmperor,d.1715DuCasse,Julien:Frenchman,TemplarEdith:Edward’slandladyElTiburón:GovernorTorres’sright-handmanFriday:deck-handontheEmperorHague,Matthew:Caroline’ssuitorHague,SirAubrey:MatthewHague’sfatherHanley:quartermasteroftheJackdawHornigold,Benjamin:pirate,helpedestablishNassau,d.1719Ibn-La’Ahad,Altaïr:MasterAssassinJacqueline:prostituteJulian:associateoftheCobleighs’

Kenway,Bernard:Edward’sfatherKenway,Edward:pirateKenway,Jennifer:Edward’sdaughterKenway,Linette:Edward’smotherKidd,CaptainWilliam:notoriouspirate,d.1701Kidd,James:pirateMaynard,Lieutenant:EnglishsailorontheHMSPearl,d.1751Melling:sailorontheEmperorPlumb,CaptainAbraham:captainofthePrincessPrins,Laurens:DutchslaverlivinginJamaica,d.1717Pritchard,CaptainBenjamin:privateer,captainoftheAmazonGalleyRackham,CalicoJack:pirate,quartermasteroftheRanger,1682–1720Roberts,Bartholomew:pirateandTheSage,1682–1722Rogers,Woodes:privateer,ca.1679–1732Rose:Caroline’smaidRuth:prostituteScott,Caroline:EdwardKenway’swifeScott,Emmett:Caroline’sfatherThatch,Edward:privateerwhobecameBlackbeard,1680–1718Thompson:soldierTorresyAyala,GovernorLaureano:governorofHavana,1645–1722Trafford:CaptainDolzell’sfirstmateVane,Charles:captainoftheRanger,d.1721Wallace,Dylan:recruiterfortheEmperorWalpole,Duncan:AssassinWalpole,SirRobert:cousintoDuncan,1676–1745Wilson:MatthewHague’sminder

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

SpecialthankstoYvesGuillemotJulienCuny

AymarAzaiziaJeanGuesdonDarbyMcdevitt

AndalsoAlainCorreLaurentDetocSébastienPuelGeoffroySardinXavierGuilbertTommyFrançoisCecileRusseilJoshuaMeyer

TheUbisoftLegalDepartmentChrisMarcus

EtienneAllonierAntoineCeszynskiMaximeDesmettre

TwoDotsAlexClarkeHanaOsman

AndrewHolmes

VirginieSergentClémenceDeleuze

http://penguin.com/welcome?CMP=OTC-PEBL