Read Online On a Long Ago Night by Susan Sizemore - Free Book Online
Authors: Susan Sizemore
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merchants and commerce. Pack donkeys jockeyed for
position with porters, stevedores, sailors, and slaves on the
crowded stone jetties. The wharves smelled of rotting fish and a
dozen kinds of dung. Or perhaps, Diego thought, the choking scent
that clogged his nostrils came from the man who approached him
through the bustling, jostling crowd.
"My son!" Ibrahim Rais called, as he strode toward the
gangplank. The corsair leader was accompanied by bodyguards,
servants, and the captain of the third vessel left in what had once
been a mighty pirate fleet, but the tall old man was obviously the
commander of all he surveyed. At the moment Diego was the focus
of his intense interest, and Diego had long ago learned to look the
old bastard in the eye and pretend respect and affection.
"Admiral!" Diego called out, and hurried to reach Ibrahim
Rais's side. He was careful to bow elegantly when he did so. Many
beatings in his youth had taught him excellent manners.
Ibrahim Rais held his arms out wide as Diego straightened.
The old man's full white beard gleamed in the mid-morning
sunlight; his red, purple, and yellow striped robes stood out even in
the hubbub of the busy port. Ibrahim Rais was never one who
would be ignored, no matter how noisy or crowded a place he
might be in. His garish wardrobe and the sharp scimitar and
pistols in his sash assured that he caught the eye. To be called a
cutthroat's cutthroat was a high compliment to the ruthless corsair.
"Those captives had better he worth the risk we took,"
Ibrahim Rais declared, as he motioned for Diego to walk with him.
He glanced across the harbor to the stolen merchantman they'd
sailed back to Algiers. "That ship alone was probably worth the
risk." His eyes narrowed as he returned his attention to Diego.
"But what of the survivors you took on board? Are they wealthy
enough to buy their way out of the bagnio?" He put a hand on
Diego's shoulder when he wasn't answered immediately. "Do we
sell them or ransom them, my boy?"
Diego did not glance back at his ship. He could not see the
copper-bright head of Honoria Pyne turned away from him in
disgust. He could not see her brave demeanor, or the hurt in her
eyes. Though she was locked in the ship's hold with her dear
Derrick, Diego felt her accusing look cut through him. Or was it a
twinge of guilt? He almost smiled bitterly — what pierced him was
no mere twinge. But it could not be helped. It truly could not. The
very touch of Ibrahim's hand on his shoulder burned Diego like a
brand, and he had firsthand knowledge of just what a brand felt
like. His hatred for the corsair admiral choked his spirit, and left a
taste of bile in his soul. He had risen high in the ranks by using
violence when he must, and cunning constantly. Diego knew
himself to be a dangerous man; he must be ruthless and heartless,
for Ibrahim Rais was just that much more dangerous than he was .
He would use Honoria Pyne because he had to. He cared
nothing for her. Besides, she cared only for her beloved Derrick.
" You hesitate, lad," Ibrahim cut into his thoughts. The tough
old man laughed, revealing a healthy set of sharp teeth. There was
a lewd twinkle in his eyes as he went on, "I'm told there was a red-
haired woman among the ferengi. Is she worth more than a ransom
to you ?"
Far more than Ibrahim could know. Diego gave a casual
shake of his head. He had already considered asking for Honoria
Pyne as his share of the booty, and rejected the idea. To show any
interest in the fox-haired captive would draw Ibrahim's attention to
her. Ibrahim Rais's suspicions were easily aroused, and he had
many spies. "No woman is worth more than a ransom, lord."
"Some fetch a good price," Ibraham Rais observed. "Depends
on market value, I've found."
"As you say, lord."
"What of the woman you brought aboard?"
"There were two women," Diego was quick to clarify. "And a
wounded merchant."
The truth was, Diego possessed
position with porters, stevedores, sailors, and slaves on the
crowded stone jetties. The wharves smelled of rotting fish and a
dozen kinds of dung. Or perhaps, Diego thought, the choking scent
that clogged his nostrils came from the man who approached him
through the bustling, jostling crowd.
"My son!" Ibrahim Rais called, as he strode toward the
gangplank. The corsair leader was accompanied by bodyguards,
servants, and the captain of the third vessel left in what had once
been a mighty pirate fleet, but the tall old man was obviously the
commander of all he surveyed. At the moment Diego was the focus
of his intense interest, and Diego had long ago learned to look the
old bastard in the eye and pretend respect and affection.
"Admiral!" Diego called out, and hurried to reach Ibrahim
Rais's side. He was careful to bow elegantly when he did so. Many
beatings in his youth had taught him excellent manners.
Ibrahim Rais held his arms out wide as Diego straightened.
The old man's full white beard gleamed in the mid-morning
sunlight; his red, purple, and yellow striped robes stood out even in
the hubbub of the busy port. Ibrahim Rais was never one who
would be ignored, no matter how noisy or crowded a place he
might be in. His garish wardrobe and the sharp scimitar and
pistols in his sash assured that he caught the eye. To be called a
cutthroat's cutthroat was a high compliment to the ruthless corsair.
"Those captives had better he worth the risk we took,"
Ibrahim Rais declared, as he motioned for Diego to walk with him.
He glanced across the harbor to the stolen merchantman they'd
sailed back to Algiers. "That ship alone was probably worth the
risk." His eyes narrowed as he returned his attention to Diego.
"But what of the survivors you took on board? Are they wealthy
enough to buy their way out of the bagnio?" He put a hand on
Diego's shoulder when he wasn't answered immediately. "Do we
sell them or ransom them, my boy?"
Diego did not glance back at his ship. He could not see the
copper-bright head of Honoria Pyne turned away from him in
disgust. He could not see her brave demeanor, or the hurt in her
eyes. Though she was locked in the ship's hold with her dear
Derrick, Diego felt her accusing look cut through him. Or was it a
twinge of guilt? He almost smiled bitterly — what pierced him was
no mere twinge. But it could not be helped. It truly could not. The
very touch of Ibrahim's hand on his shoulder burned Diego like a
brand, and he had firsthand knowledge of just what a brand felt
like. His hatred for the corsair admiral choked his spirit, and left a
taste of bile in his soul. He had risen high in the ranks by using
violence when he must, and cunning constantly. Diego knew
himself to be a dangerous man; he must be ruthless and heartless,
for Ibrahim Rais was just that much more dangerous than he was .
He would use Honoria Pyne because he had to. He cared
nothing for her. Besides, she cared only for her beloved Derrick.
" You hesitate, lad," Ibrahim cut into his thoughts. The tough
old man laughed, revealing a healthy set of sharp teeth. There was
a lewd twinkle in his eyes as he went on, "I'm told there was a red-
haired woman among the ferengi. Is she worth more than a ransom
to you ?"
Far more than Ibrahim could know. Diego gave a casual
shake of his head. He had already considered asking for Honoria
Pyne as his share of the booty, and rejected the idea. To show any
interest in the fox-haired captive would draw Ibrahim's attention to
her. Ibrahim Rais's suspicions were easily aroused, and he had
many spies. "No woman is worth more than a ransom, lord."
"Some fetch a good price," Ibraham Rais observed. "Depends
on market value, I've found."
"As you say, lord."
"What of the woman you brought aboard?"
"There were two women," Diego was quick to clarify. "And a
wounded merchant."
The truth was, Diego possessed
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