One
There wasno doubt about it. The woman who’d burst through the tavern door and crashed the wedding looking for the people who’d delivered the hellkins to Eldu was undoubtedly a pirate.
The black boots she stamped snow off were high; her puffy blouse was topped with a vest, and a red sash cinched her waist. When she twisted to catch Cali watching her, there was a black patch covering one eye.
The lute player had stopped playing festive wedding music, and Pip Brambleheart stood next to the wedding cake with a look of dismay on his face, as if the pirate’s arrival might preclude the bride and groom from cutting the multi-tiered confection the halfling had baked.
“I think you’re right,” Lira said in a low voice meant only for the pantheri. “She must be a pirate. Korl didn’t mention that they left Marina and her hellkin crew with pirates, though.”
Cali had almost forgotten that Lira was standing next to her. The pantheri’s mind was too busy whirring with thoughts ofthe pirate adventures and daring, dangerous pirate captains who’d been at the center of so many of the romance novels she devoured. She snatched her gaze from the woman to look at the bride. It was then she was reminded that her friends’ wedding reception had been unceremoniously interrupted, and in the middle of a raging snowstorm, no less.
“How did she get here?” the pantheri whispered. “How did she find Wayside? I thought pirates stuck to the sea.”
Her half-elf friend shrugged and tucked an errant strand of auburn hair behind one pointed ear. “Pirates are nothing if not resourceful. Not that I’m an expert on them.” She elbowed Cali. “You’re the one who reads all the pirate romances. Shouldn’t you be telling me?”
“Those are just books,” Cali said, avoiding glancing at the pirate for fear she wouldn’t be able to look away. “Stories someone made up. She’s a real pirate.”
“With a real eye patch,” Lira said. “Ididthink pirates wearing those were made up.”
The woman pirate swiveled her head, taking in the floral arch, Lira in a wedding dress, and everyone else in their finest clothing. “Am I interrupting something?”
There was a pause in which no one spoke, as if admitting that the woman was crashing the party would be rude.
“Well. . .” Tinpin the gnome haberdasher rubbed his small hands together as he glanced at the others. “The thing is. . .”
“It’s my wedding,” Korl said, his voice solid and sure as he reached a hand back for Lira to take. “Mine and Lira’s.”
The stranger’s already snow-pinked cheeks mottled darker. “Blast and barnacles.” She bowed her head slightly to the orc and his bride. “My apologies.”
Pip half giggled, half hiccuped at the sailor's curse, and Fenni elbowed his brother in the ribs. It was possible that the halfling baker had sipped too much apple brandy already.
“Don’t worry yourself,” Lira said. “You’re welcome to join the party.”
Tinpin bounced on his heels, the gnome’s keen gaze appraising the woman’s attire. “The more, the merrier. The more, the merrier, indeed.”
Vorto, one of the proud orc fathers-of-the-groom, held out a tankard full of ale. “I’m sure you’ve had an arduous journey from Eldu in this weather.”
The pirate’s flush faded as she flicked errant snowflakes from her dark waves and accepted the drink from the bald orc in a burgundy suit. “That I have, but I didn’t mean to spoil a wedding.”
Lira flapped a hand. “Nothing is spoiled.” She glanced adoringly at her new husband. “This will make a great story to tell our grandchildren.”
Now it was Korl’s turn to blush, his green cheeks darkening as a grin teased his lips.
“Listen to the bride, hon.” Rosie called out from behind the bar, where only a poof of the gnome’s blonde hair showed. “Come on in and join us.”
Val cleared her throat. “And I, for one, want to hear what happened with the hellkins.”
Korl rumbled his agreement to that, but the pirate didn’t have the chance to tell her tale before the door opened again, bringing with it a squall of cold air and snow—and another cloaked figure. The new arrival lowered her hood to reveal serpentine features and dark hair braided close enough to her head to show flashes of ebony, scaled skin.
Cali’s fur bristled all the way down her spine as the nagine swept her gaze languorously across the great room. The last time she’d encountered one of the serpent people, a nagine mercenary had attempted to kill her and her crew. A ripple of murmurs passed through the wedding guests, but the creature appeared unaffected.
“My master-at-arms,” the pirate said, as the nagine cooly nodded to the villagers. “Seraphina.”
Instead of trousers tucked into boots, the new arrival’s crimson pants ended above the ankles and were wide-legged enough to appear to be a skirt. A brown tunic was buttoned from her flared neck to her hips, and a sword hung from her waist.
“Two pirates,” Lira said, as much to herself as to anyone else. The bride’s cocked eyebrow told Cali that she, too, remembered their last encounter with a nagine and their near escape.
“Like our haberdasher said, the more the merrier.” Sass bustled up and hooked an arm through the first pirate’s, pulling her farther into the tavern. “And we’d all like to know what happened to the hellkins we sent you.”
