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Malta had come to the table with the dignity and composure of a Trader.

Wintrow had been proud of his younger sister.

She had presented her proposal in careful phrases, and at every point, had enumerated the advantages it would bring both to Kennit and the Satrap.

Recognition of Kennit as King of the Pirate Isles, a sovereign state.

An end to Jamaillian slave raiders in the Pirate Isles.

No more Chalcedean ‘patrol’ boats in the Pirate Isles.

Captain Red and Sorcor had grinned with triumph.

They had been more subdued as she went on to list what the Satrap wanted in exchange: his safe return to Jamaillia City, escorted by Kennit’s fleet, with the assurance that the Pirate Isles recognized and supported him as the Satrap of Jamaillia.

In the future, Kennit would pledge safe passage for Jamaillian-flagged ships through the Inside Passage, and would himself subdue any ‘independent’ pirates who ignored the agreement.

At first, Kennit had waxed enthusiastic.

He had sent Wintrow for parchment, pen, and ink, and instructed him to write it up.

That had been straightforward, save for the matters of the proper forms for referring to the Satrap.

That alone took nearly half a page of ‘His Most Glorious and Magnificent Honour’ and the like.

Kennit had leaped into the spirit of it, dictating that the document refer to him as ‘The Daring and Undefeated Pirate Captain Kennit, King of the Pirate Isles by Virtue of his Boldness and Cunning.’ Wintrow had seen the dancing merriment in Captain Red’s eyes as well as the profound pride in Sorcor’s as he transcribed these illustrious titles.

He had thought that would bring a swift end to the negotiations, but Kennit had only begun.

Swiftly and surely, he began to tack other provisions on to the pact.

The fabulously powerful Satrap of Jamaillia could not expect him, King of scattered towns of outcasts, to patrol these waters against miscreant pirates with no remuneration.

Whatever agreement Jamaillia had had with the Chalcedean patrol vessels would be passed on to Kennit and his ‘patrol’ ships.

How could the Satrap object? It would not be any more coins out of his coffers; they would simply be going to a different set of ships.

And, of course, in reciprocal courtesy, ships bearing Kennit’s Raven flag would pass unmolested in Jamaillian waters on their journeys to points south.

As for selective pardons to criminals who had fled to the Pirate Isles, why, that was all much too confusing.

A blanket pardon of every one of Kennit’s subjects would be much easier to manage.

When the Satrap objected that these ‘Tattooed’ would be indistinguishable from the lawful slaves of Jamaillia, Kennit had appeared to take him seriously.

He had gravely proposed that the Satrap, by edict, have all free folk of Jamaillia tattooed with a special mark that would proclaim them free subjects of the Satrap.

Captain Red had had a coughing fit to cover his laughter, but the Satrap had flushed scarlet.

Standing, he had declared himself irrevocably offended.

The Satrap had stalked to the door and out of it.

Malta had followed him miserably. Her humiliated stare betrayed that she realized what the Satrap did not.

There was no place for him to go. This ‘negotiation’ was to become little more than a documented robbery.

While they waited out the Satrap’s temper tantrum, Kennit ordered Wintrow to pour the finest spirits for his lieutenants, and sent him to fetch samples of the cheeses and exotic preserved fruits he had captured on his most recent foray.

They were relaxed and warm and comfortable when the Satrap returned followed by a defeated Malta.

They resumed their seats at the table. In a chill voice, the Satrap offered Kennit one hundred signed pardons that he could distribute as he saw fit.

‘A thousand,’ Kennit countered as coolly. He leaned back in his chair. ‘And you would give me the authorization to issue others as needed.’

‘Done,’ the Satrap snapped sulkily as Malta’s mouth opened in angry protest. The young ruler glared at her. ‘It costs me nothing. Why should not I give it to him?’

That set the tone for all that followed.

Malta’s efforts to give ground grudgingly were undermined by the Satrap’s obvious despair and ultimately his boredom with the whole process.

Jamaillian ships that stopped for water, supplies or trade in the Pirate Isles would pay a fee to Kennit.

Jamaillia would not interfere with Kennit’s right to regulate trade and ships passing through the Pirate Isles.

Sorcor’s triumph was that persons condemned to be sold on the block for debt would be offered the option of exile to the Pirate Isles.

Captain Red inserted that individual actors would no longer be responsible for the debts of a troupe.

From there, the political significance of Kennit’s demands dwindled to mere piracy of privilege.

A suite of rooms in the Satrap’s palace would be reserved exclusively for Kennit in the event that he ever chose to visit Jamaillia City.

Any serpent sighted in Inside Passage waters was to be considered Kennit’s property and left unmolested.

Kennit was always to be referred to as the Merciful and Just King Kennit of the Pirate Isles.

The negotiations flagged only when Kennit’s inventiveness began to fail him.

As Wintrow rose to fetch fresh candles for the table, he reflected that soon they would not need them.

The talks had consumed the night: a late winter dawn was breaking over the water.

He stood beside Malta as he fitted the candles into the heavy silver holders and wished he could reach her as he did the ship, with no more than a focused thought.

He wished she knew that although he sat with those who opposed her, he was proud of her.

She had bargained like a true Trader. If Kennit’s offer of restoring their father had weighed on her mind, she had refused to show it.

Small hope that Kennit would honour that offer.

How Malta had come to be in the Satrap’s company was still a mystery, but the rigours of that journey showed on her face.

If the negotiations went successfully, what then? Would she leave with the Satrap?

He longed for this to be over, so he could talk with her.

His hunger for news from home was more powerful than his need for food and sleep.

He lit the last candle and resumed his seat.

Kennit surprised him by clapping him genially on the shoulder.

‘Tired, son? Well, we are nearly at the end of this. All that remains to negotiate now is the actual ransom itself. Some prefer coins, but I am more lenient in these matters. Precious gems, pearls, furs, tapestries, even…’

‘This is outrageous!’ Despite his weariness, the Satrap lurched to his feet.

His mouth had gone white and pinched. His clenched hands trembled with fury.

For one horrifying instant, Wintrow feared he would burst into angry tears.

Malta reached a supportive hand towards him, but stopped short of touching him.

She sent Kennit a killing glare. When she spoke, her voice was calm.

‘Lord Magnadon Satrap, I see the logic of this. Your nobles will value you less if they have not had to pay anything to recover you. Consider this. It will give you a way to gauge who is truly loyal to you. You will reward those who are willing to contribute to your recovery later. Those who are not will feel your magnificent wrath. King Kennit is, after all, my lord, still a pirate.’ She gave Kennit a tight-lipped smile, as if to be sure her barb hit home.

‘All your nobles would distrust a treaty in which he did not demand some sort of reward for himself, rather than merely benefits for his people.’

It was pathetic. She saw that the Satrap was powerless to refuse Kennit.

She sought to save the boy’s pride for him.

The Satrap’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment.

He shot Malta a venomous look. Then, in a quiet voice, he hissed, ‘Certainly that is so. It has nothing to do with you grovelling to regain your father, does it?’ He swung his look to Kennit. ‘How much?’ he snapped bitterly.

‘SAILS!’ All heads turned to the lookout’s cry, but Kennit merely looked annoyed.

‘See to that, would you, Sorcor?’ he requested lazily.

He turned back to the Satrap and smiled, a great black tomcat toying with a mouse.

But before Sorcor could reach the door, Wintrow heard running footsteps outside it.

Jola did not knock, he pounded on the wood. Sorcor jerked the door open.

Jola blurted out, ‘Sir, Jamaillian ships! A whole fleet of them headed our way from the south. Lookout says he sees war machines on their decks.’ He drew breath. ‘We can escape them if we up anchor now.’

Hope kindled in the Satrap’s eyes. ‘Now we shall see!’ he declared.

‘Indeed we shall,’ Kennit agreed affably.

He turned to his mate with a rebuke. ‘Jola, Jola, why would we flee, when fate has given me every advantage in this confrontation? We are in familiar waters, our serpents surround us, and we have the supreme Magnadon Satrap as our…guest. A small demonstration of power is in order.’ He turned to the Satrap.

‘Your fleet may be more prone to honour our agreement if they have first enjoyed the attentions of a few serpents. Then we shall see how well they negotiate for your release.’ He gave a thin-lipped smile to the Satrap and thrust the treaty towards him.

‘I am going to enjoy finalizing this. Your signature, sir. Then I shall affix mine. When they confront us, if they do, we shall see what regard they have for their Satrap’s word.

And for his life.’ He grinned at Sorcor.

‘I believe we have several Jamaillian flags among our plunder. As the Lord High Magnadon Satrap of all Jamaillia is our guest, it is only fitting that we fly them in his honour.’

Kennit rose from the table, abruptly a sea captain again.

He gave his first mate a disdainful look.

‘Jola. Calm yourself. See that the Satrap’s flag is added to our own, then have the men prepare themselves for battle.

Sorcor, Red, I recommend you return to your ships and do likewise.

I must consult with my ship and the serpents.

Ah, yes. Our guests. Wintrow, make them comfortable and secure in Althea’s room, will you?

She and Jek will join them there until this is over. ’

He did not specifically command that they be locked in. Wintrow clutched that omission to himself. He would have a few moments with his sister.