voice. “I thought he knew where the treasure is. It’s in one of six spots, he said, when he led us to the first island.”
Yanko was fairly certain Dak had said that to buy time, perhaps in the hope that he would find an answer on one of those islands.
“He’s trying to narrow it down so we don’t have to look on every island.”
“Or is it that he doesn’t know where this supposed treasure is? Is that it, kid?” Minark asked. “I’ve been thinking about how you showed up on my gangplank last week, and I think you would have said anything to escape that harbor before the police showed up.”
“It wasn’t the police I was worried about.” A warrior mage that wanted him dead, a mage hunter that wanted him dead, two nations that now considered him a criminal... those were things to worry about.
“Yanko is honest, Minark.” Arayevo laid her hand on her captain’s arm and smiled. “If he says there’s a treasure out here to find, you can trust him.”
The endorsement didn’t make Yanko feel that good, especially since Minark was close to the truth. Yanko would have said almost anything to escape that harbor before Sun Dragon came to kill him. Dak, however, had been the one to promise a treasure and negotiate a percentage with the smugglers. Yanko didn’t even know how much a bunch of artifacts stolen from a museum basement might be worth. His only interest was the lodestone.
“I’m not staying here after dark, not in a haunted, diseased village full of dead people,” Minark said, lowering his voice, his words for Arayevo.
He stared intently into her eyes as he spoke, and Yanko shifted uneasily. He hadn’t wanted to acknowledge that those two had a relationship that went beyond captain and sailor, but he also hadn’t looked hard for evidence to support that. He didn’t know where Arayevo’s cabin was on the ship, nor had he ever tried to find her after dark. The idea of her sleeping with the bald, sarcastic captain made him feel hurt and betrayed—and frustrated. What could she see in him? He had to be fifteen years older than she was, and he was a smuggler.
“It’s not diseased,” Yanko muttered, turning away from them and looking toward the sea. This was an inappropriate time to worry about who was sleeping with whom—or who wasn’t sleeping with him.
“You don’t know that. It’s—” Minark broke off as Dak approached.
Dak still carried his rifle, but from the way it drooped at his side, Yanko doubted he expected to find trouble. Living trouble.
“Everyone who was in the village when they came is dead,” Dak said. “Some of the men and women look to have been tortured before they were hanged. A few of the houses are empty. It’s possible some people escaped into the jungle or took boats to other islands, but none of the prints are fresh.”
“Tortured?” Yanko asked. “For what reason? And by whom?”
“I don’t know. This is all I found that I know didn’t originate on this island.” Dak held out a tobacco tin with a burly lumberjack painted on the front.
“That looks Turgonian.”
Dak nodded. “It’s a popular brand back home. It’s exported to Kendor, the desert city-states, and the Kyatt Islands, so its presence doesn’t necessarily mean my people were here.”
“I doubt the Kyattese did this.” Lakeo jerked a thumb toward the houses.
“Probably not,” Dak said. “Their methods of getting information are more subtle.” His lips thinned.
“Dak, can I ask you something?” Yanko tilted his head toward the beach to suggest he wanted privacy. Lakeo gave him an irritated look but did not follow. He thought about waving for her to join them—Minark was the only one he didn’t want to listen in—but she sniffed and turned her back first.
“I don’t think it was Turgonians,” Dak said as soon as they were alone.
“That’s not what I was going to ask, but why?”
“My people are willing to use torture to learn what they need to know, but not outside of a military context, and there are rules against torturing women.”
“Rules about who it’s all right to torture? How noble.” Yanko bit on his tongue to keep from voicing more sarcasm. He would be naive to believe his own people did not engage in such practices. He knew that mind mages who served in the Great Chief’s armies learned ways to forcefully take information from enemies. “Sorry. Who do you think it was if not Turgonians?”
“Someone who wanted information.”
“That’s vague.