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He’d once been a member of an enemy’s crew, and there were those who thought that Silverfinger had been foolish to take him aboard.
“He was being chained in their own bilges for disobeying, perhaps even speaking of mutiny. And he didn’t even act right for someone whose life was in your hands. What sort asks what the pay share will be for them when not joining a new crew means instant death and being fed to the sharks?”
But the tall, battered Vashoth in mage chains had impressed the Captain with his calm and deliberate attitude, not afraid but not challenging either, acting like he was at a hiring table instead of on a blood-soaked and charred deck, surrounded by traces of the dead who had been thrown, being cursed by some of those who’d locked him up and beaten him, but hadn’t yet been finally dealt with.
“I can be loyal enough” he’d said at the time, “I’m a professional when paid what I’m promised, but there’s no pay that’ll make me follow a fool with no questions, and yeah, if they try cheating me because they think I’m a big dumb ox, the fool’s going to get what they’re paying for with the insults and lack of coin. I’m a navigator, good in a fight, and can do a bit of a surgeon’s job, though my magic isn’t healing. I know what I’m worth, Captain, and I’m tired of not getting it.”
And the Vainglory had needed a new navigator, since their old had died of spellfire, the more help the healer had the better- and perhaps too there was something about the height and lean muscle, the bronze skin that was almost completely marked with scar or ink, and the glint of gold jewelry that apparently his old mates hadn’t quite dared to try removing while he was alive, even chained and unable to cast spells.
Or maybe just it was a streak of contrariness, or everything combined, but Silverfinger had ordered the chains off, and brought Sethras into his crew, and for a time, everyone watched him warily.
“At some point he’ll turn on you, Captain. What if someone offers him a little more gold?”
But Sethras had worked as hard as any other, and proved himself able to make charts and maps as easily as he read them. He took tasks on deck when needed with no complaint, and had a laid back charm. Nothing and no one seemed able to anger him, not into a display of real temper. And if he questioned a course of action or plan, it was done openly, maybe bluntly, but respectfully.
He had some minor ability with healing spells, though his specialty was as a combat mage who fought in the melee, able to armor himself with elements or wreathe those around him in thick fog that choked foes but let allies withdraw or use their knives in the confusion. His magic was focused- but also forbidden- and lost him friends that he’d otherwise have won, or at least slowed the trust. Blood magic, blood mage.
Sethras Redrose, a joke of sorts, the name he’d earned even before joining on theVainglory, as the roses that twined over his skin were black, or the pale shade of scars, only red when splashed with blood. Pretty flowers that it didn’t pay to grab hold of too tightly.
“Keep an eye on him, sure he’s friendly, but what he cares about is money, and his sets of rules. May as well be Qun.”
An easy smile, the ability to drink most anyone under the table, entertaining stories and only sometimes a dark, cold. glint in kohl-lined hazel eyes. Thick black braids capped in gold, carved horns capped in copper, jewelry won or lost at cards, but always studs and hoops lining his ears, and the pointed gold cap on a tooth. Fancy shirts and dyed leather, a taste for fighting and any number of little pleasures. Increasingly staying closer to the Captain’s side, but nothing between them but drinks, cards, and stories or silence.
“He’s betrayed before, but I suppose as long as the gold flows to him. But gold can only buy limited loyalty, in the end.”
But Sethras always did his job, whatever job pointed at, even some without the pointing. Efficient, even if strange at times.
“Well maybe the gossip’s just been gossip. Can’t trust everything you hear in a port from sour-mouthed sailors.”
But now he was between the Captain and the door of a room, arms folded across his chest.
“You’re in my way, Bloodrose- I order you out of it.” Angry purple eyes, Frantic behind long black hair that was getting in the way.
“Not happening, Captain. You’re hurt, still drugged, and not thinking clearly. The crew’s been scattered, injured, and some maybe killed. Rushing out won’t serve any purpose. They set a trap, and are setting another. It’ll take time, regrouping, and aplan to get around it and get your sister safely away.”
Magic gathering, in the air, and in Yvad’s hands, the silver finger seeming to glow, but not yet striking out, “Is this you finally turning against me? The end of the loyalty?” Even as he said it, the pirate knew the answer, but the regret couldn’t cool his temper any more than the pain from his wounds- ones still healing due to the slow spells that Sethras could cast, bandaged or stitched carefully in a few places by large, tattooed hands, because there was a limit to the blood-mage’s healing abilities, some things had needed patching faster.
“You know it’s not, Captain, but for fuck’s sake, lie back down and rest. Those left can be regathered by signals and runners, we can learn how and where, and when to move. They haven’t got you, they’ll keep her until they do,” He moved in from the door, and though not heedless of the danger, stood in easy striking range of dagger, much less the spells that might have struck him even at a distance. “Tell me I’m off your crew if you want, call me out for mutiny later, but I still won’t stand aside and let you get yourself killed. That’s the kind of loyalty you have of me.”
The magic faded and no blade drove into Sethras’ flesh, as Silverfinger muttered an oath and swayed, but let himself be guided back into the bed.
“Rest, my Captain, and I’ll find who I can, we’ll see who can be trusted, and you’ll lead us to make it clear that finding your secrets, that threatening her is a mistake no one will live to regret, no matter how big the company, not even if they’ve involved the Templar Armada.”
Sethras leaned in and kissed Silverfinger on the brow, then straightened and left to find another to keep watch- and map out the details of the plot so that soon, his Captain could make the proper plans.