Read Online Boyett-Compo, Charlotte - WindTales 02 by WindChance - Free Book Online
Authors: WindChance
Ads: Link
missy?” Tarnes growled.
“You don't get sent to the Labyrinth for no good reason!” she shouted.
“Aye, but you can!” Patrick argued. “I should know that better than anyone!” He jabbed his finger at his
own chest. “I made an enemy of the wrong man; he had me sent to Tyber's Isle for it!"
“Aye, well, you weren't a Duke, though, were you, Patrick Kasella?” Genny shot back.
“Dukes have enemies, too,” Neevens put in, then turned to look at Syn-Jern. “Don't they?"
A strange look passed over the younger man's face. “Very powerful ones,” he answered. He shifted his
gaze to Genny. “You want to know what I was in prison for, Lady Saur?” He didn't wait for her to
answer. “It was for killing a man."
There were mumbles from the men gathered.
“Then why didn't they hang you?” Genny sneered.
“Oh, they wanted to,” Syn-Jern told her. “And probably would have if my grandmother hadn't
intervened. But Monique Hesar is a very powerful woman in Virago."
“Hesar?” Tarnes questioned. “You be kin to the royal family? To Prince Innis?"
“Third cousins,” Syn-Jern answered, his gaze still locked on Genny. “But it didn't prevent His Highness
from having me flogged and deported. He didn't like me any better than Genevieve Saur does."
“Land ho!"
Heads turned, loud whistles of excitement exploded from the crew's lips and, the group scrambled
across the deck, forgetting the man and woman who still stood where they were, facing one another. As
preparations began for docking, the two seemed oblivious to what was going on around them.
“You should have been hung,” Genny finally said, breaking the silence between them.
“Aye,” he answered. “I agree."
“Perhaps we can grant your death wish, Duke Sorn,” she grated, then spun on her heel, and left him
staring after her.
[Back to Table of Contents]
PART TWO
Chapter One
The southern coast of Ionary was a wonder to behold. Buff-colored dunes rose high along vast stretches
of sea-carved stone, pocked with ragged holes and soaring nature-made arches under the swirling waters
of the South Boreal Sea's rise and ebb. White caps surged inland along the clean sand beaches and
broke amongst the spindly sea oats growing at the foot of the dunes. High along the upper reaches of the
cliffs, gnarled and wind-bent pines and scrubs stood sentinel, looking out to sea, ever watchful of the
Ionarian coastline. The straggling section of Ionary, the southern-most tip of the country seeping down
between Serenia to the East and Virago to the West, held a certain splendor to behold.
Grass huts dotted the peaceful beach, some found inland. Some made this wild and beautiful coast their
home, manning the ships that plied the seas and plundered the vessels sailing upon her.
This ragged coast hosted the home base of at least eight pirate ships. The Wind Lass being one of the
ships sailing from this isolated port.
Not actually part of the kingdom of Ionary, the peninsula nevertheless Ionarian soil, bore the name of its
royal rulers: Montyne Cay. The village, itself, was governed by a council of five men, pirates all. They
made the decisions for the populace, settled disputes, carried out their verdicts, and, most importantly of
all, and saw that the village was protected from outsiders and citizens, alike. Those who do not abide by
the laws and codes of Montyne Cay were asked to leave and were not allowed to return. The five men
of the council judged those who refused to leave on their merits. If they were found to be undesirable,
they were transported. If they returned, they were imprisoned.
Patrick Kasella sat on the Council of Five.
The populations of Montyne Cay ranged from seventy-five to ninety, depending on how many ships
were in port during the count. Very few of the residents were native to the region, most having ventured
on the seas, either willingly or pressed into service elsewhere, before finally finding their way to
“You don't get sent to the Labyrinth for no good reason!” she shouted.
“Aye, but you can!” Patrick argued. “I should know that better than anyone!” He jabbed his finger at his
own chest. “I made an enemy of the wrong man; he had me sent to Tyber's Isle for it!"
“Aye, well, you weren't a Duke, though, were you, Patrick Kasella?” Genny shot back.
“Dukes have enemies, too,” Neevens put in, then turned to look at Syn-Jern. “Don't they?"
A strange look passed over the younger man's face. “Very powerful ones,” he answered. He shifted his
gaze to Genny. “You want to know what I was in prison for, Lady Saur?” He didn't wait for her to
answer. “It was for killing a man."
There were mumbles from the men gathered.
“Then why didn't they hang you?” Genny sneered.
“Oh, they wanted to,” Syn-Jern told her. “And probably would have if my grandmother hadn't
intervened. But Monique Hesar is a very powerful woman in Virago."
“Hesar?” Tarnes questioned. “You be kin to the royal family? To Prince Innis?"
“Third cousins,” Syn-Jern answered, his gaze still locked on Genny. “But it didn't prevent His Highness
from having me flogged and deported. He didn't like me any better than Genevieve Saur does."
“Land ho!"
Heads turned, loud whistles of excitement exploded from the crew's lips and, the group scrambled
across the deck, forgetting the man and woman who still stood where they were, facing one another. As
preparations began for docking, the two seemed oblivious to what was going on around them.
“You should have been hung,” Genny finally said, breaking the silence between them.
“Aye,” he answered. “I agree."
“Perhaps we can grant your death wish, Duke Sorn,” she grated, then spun on her heel, and left him
staring after her.
[Back to Table of Contents]
PART TWO
Chapter One
The southern coast of Ionary was a wonder to behold. Buff-colored dunes rose high along vast stretches
of sea-carved stone, pocked with ragged holes and soaring nature-made arches under the swirling waters
of the South Boreal Sea's rise and ebb. White caps surged inland along the clean sand beaches and
broke amongst the spindly sea oats growing at the foot of the dunes. High along the upper reaches of the
cliffs, gnarled and wind-bent pines and scrubs stood sentinel, looking out to sea, ever watchful of the
Ionarian coastline. The straggling section of Ionary, the southern-most tip of the country seeping down
between Serenia to the East and Virago to the West, held a certain splendor to behold.
Grass huts dotted the peaceful beach, some found inland. Some made this wild and beautiful coast their
home, manning the ships that plied the seas and plundered the vessels sailing upon her.
This ragged coast hosted the home base of at least eight pirate ships. The Wind Lass being one of the
ships sailing from this isolated port.
Not actually part of the kingdom of Ionary, the peninsula nevertheless Ionarian soil, bore the name of its
royal rulers: Montyne Cay. The village, itself, was governed by a council of five men, pirates all. They
made the decisions for the populace, settled disputes, carried out their verdicts, and, most importantly of
all, and saw that the village was protected from outsiders and citizens, alike. Those who do not abide by
the laws and codes of Montyne Cay were asked to leave and were not allowed to return. The five men
of the council judged those who refused to leave on their merits. If they were found to be undesirable,
they were transported. If they returned, they were imprisoned.
Patrick Kasella sat on the Council of Five.
The populations of Montyne Cay ranged from seventy-five to ninety, depending on how many ships
were in port during the count. Very few of the residents were native to the region, most having ventured
on the seas, either willingly or pressed into service elsewhere, before finally finding their way to
Similar Books
