by E. S. Bell
Captain Mallen met her eye and Selena didn’t like the lascivious glint. The rum he’d drunk—on her coin—had made him less subtle. His tongue wormed out of his mouth and over his lips.
“I don’t know, lassie,” he said. “I like the color o’ yer gold, but Isle Saliz? It ain’t nothing but jungle over there. Jungle full o’ wild beasts.” He jabbed his finger toward a window. “Bloody Deeps, just out on this boardwalk you can find hawkers selling teeth what come from Saliz. Huge’uns as big as me arm, an’ good n’ sharp at the tip. Cain’t even pronounce the name o’ the beast they was yanked from.” His own teeth—what few he had left to him—were stained with the muddy ichor of chewing tobacco. He grinned. “An’ don’t get me started on the bugs.”
Selena’s hands clenched. “Captain Mallen, let me remind you that you would not need to step foot onto Isle Saliz. I need you to anchor off and provide me a skiff to make landfall. I’ll worry about the beasts and the bugs and whatever else I find there.”
Mallen shook his head and drained the last of his rum as if it were water. His eyes were red and bleary when they raked over her again. “You do paint a pretty picture with yer wee sweet face, don’t you?” He licked his lips again. “The Scar is me pride and joy. If there be great beasts on Isle Saliz, who’s to say what lurks in the deep ‘round it? I won’t risk me brig. Not even for a pot o’ gold from a busty lass like yerself.”
Selena felt a flush color her neck and ears. She rose to her feet. “Thank you for your time.”
“Hold on, hold on.” Mallen grabbed her wrist. “Me time is worth more than a glass or two o’ this grog.”
“Let go,” Selena said in a low voice. The tavern grew quiet as other patrons turned to watch the scene.
Captain Mallen did not let go. He stood and pulled her close to him. The stink of his breath wafted over her and thick spittle sprayed her cheek.
“Why not give old Mallen a kiss, eh? Put those rosy little lips o’ yourn on me cheek and I’ll make sure to put in a good word with the next captain you try to barter with.” He squeezed her wrist harder. “If you put them lips down me belowdecks, I might just change me mind altogether.”
Other patrons barked harsh laughter or cheered lewdly. Selena looked for Ilior and then remembered she’d asked, implored, and then commanded the Vai’Ensai to remain outside the tavern, out of sight to keep from intimidating any prospective sailors.
Thank the god he obeyed. He’d kill the lot of them and then we’d have real trouble.
With a speed that made the drunkards around them blink at what they were seeing, Selena’s hand spun out of Mallen’s grip and took hold of his wrist. She spun again, twisting Mallen’s arm so that it stuck out behind him like a rudder handle. He let out a yelp and then another as she steered him face-first onto the table. She did all this without even lifting her other hand but rested it on her sword. The tavern was absolutely silent now.
“I said, thank you for your time.” Selena gave his arm a final twist, eliciting another yelp and a curse. She left the tavern to mocking cheers and applause.
Ilior was coming in as she went out, his sword drawn. “What happened? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Although I’m beginning to despair whether—”
The tavern door banged open and Mallen staggered out, his face a grimace of drunken rage. His cutlass shone dully in the light of the oil lamps that lined Port Sylk’s boardwalk.
“Can I help you, friend?” Ilior’s voice rumbled like an avalanche.
Mallen’s red-rimmed gaze craned upwards to regard the Vai’Ensai. He tried to maintain a semblance of dignity as he sheathed his blade, as though he’d decided it wasn’t worth sullying it with Selena’s blood. He spat in the dirt at their feet and staggered away, cursing under his breath.
“He was my best prospect,” Selena sighed.
“Harruk’sha,” Ilior swore in his own tongue and the two began to walk the wooden planks that made up the boardwalk.
On the southern side were the docks where dozens of ships, their sails furled, bobbed like a forest of barren trees set afloat in the dark. More ships sat at anchor farther out; larger brigs or carracks that belonged to the pirate bosses of the various collectives. Lights winked in the cabins of some. The bosses, Selena had learned, ruled Uago, but from a safe distance in the event a quick getaway was necessary. On the other side of the boardwalk, the taverns, inns, shops and brothels lined the street, sagging against one another, their facades white-washed by sun and salt and weathered by wind.
The air was humid and heavy with the smells of sweat, rum, fish, salt, and offal. Night had fallen over Port Sylk, and the denizens and visitors of the port city had come out to play. The oil lamps cast lurid shadows, raucous and drunken laughter filled the air, as did the sounds of breaking glass and curses. Fisticuffs broke out between sailors every few paces and more than once Ilior had to shove aside a duo of brawlers as they spilled onto the street from a tavern or brothel. Prostitutes called from windows curtained with red silk—or more likely linen dyed red—their breasts pushing out of low-cut dresses. Others fanned themselves desultorily, regarding the scene below with flat expressions under garish makeup that ran down their cheeks in the relentless heat. Spice shops made Selena’s nose itch as they passed, and fortune-tellers tried to lure her into their dark shops where hanging crystals glittered in the windows. They ceased their entreaties when Ilior’s shadow fell over them and the sober men on the streets gave Selena and her companion a wide berth.
“I don’t know what to do next,” Selena told Ilior, stopping outside another tavern. A weather-beaten sign above a tavern door proclaimed it The Last Call. The boardwalk ended. Its wooden planks giving way to a narrow dirt road that led to the poorest district in the town, a place named the Jetties. No oil lamps lit and the night was black and breathing.
Ilior wrinkled his snout “The last call, indeed.”
“I don’t have much choice.”
“Wait.” Ilior laid a clawed hand on Selena’s arm. “We are being watched.”
“Where?”
“Where the street ends. I saw movement, fleet and small.”
Selena turned and looked to the blackness. A shadow flitted with a whisper of movement. Before she could call out, the stranger peeked out into the murky light spilling out of the Last Call’s windows.
A young girl, perhaps no older than twelve, peered at them with large brown eyes from under a matted nest of hair that bore braids, beads, and small seashells as ornament. She was skinny and small, her clothes shabby, her feet bare. She gave Ilior a sidelong glance and then fixed her gaze on Selena.
“Selena Koren?”
Selena stepped back. “How did you know?”
“Bloody bones and spit, everyone here knows you. It’s not big, Uago, and Aluren magicians aren’t too common. ‘Specially not ladies.”
Selena nodded, tight lipped. “Yes, that’s apparent.”
“What’s your business?” Ilior asked.
“Not mine,” the girl said. “Jarabax. He wants to see you. Says he’s got something for you and he hired me to take you to him.”
“Who?” Selena asked.
“Jarabax Ruhl,” the girl said in hushed tones.
“The name means nothing to me,” Selena said. “A pirate?”
“A pirate boss,” the girl said. “You don’t mess with him, right? So are you coming or not?”
“No.” Ilior crossed his arms over his fur vest.
Selena laid a hand on her friend’s arm. “What does he want?”
The girl rolled her eyes. “I told you. He’s got something for you. Something that will help you, I think.”
“He told you that?” Ilior demanded.
“No. But I’m a good listener.”
Selena thought for a moment. “If he has something helpful, he can bring it to me. Tell him I’ll meet him at the Wayfarer Inn to—”
The girl shook her head. “He told me you might say that. You have to meet hi
m at one of his places if you want what he’s got. He pays me in scraps o’ food more often than pennies. I can take you there or I can go hungry. You pick.” She crossed her thin arms over her chest and cocked an eyebrow at Selena.
Ilior reached for his coin pouch. “We can give you coin enough for a meal—”
“I’m no beggar, lizardface; I earn my money.” She looked to Selena. “Now see here, the whole island knows you’re trying to get a ship out to Isle Saliz. And pretty soon, they’ll see that no one’s coming to get you. That you’re stuck. Pretty lady like you? The longer you stay here, the worse it’s going to get.” She jerked a thumb at Ilior. “Even with him around.”
“She’s right,” Selena said. “We’ve been here nearly a week; wounded fish flapping in the tides while the sharks circle closer.” She turned to the girl. “What’s your name?”
“Hanna.”
“All right, Hanna. Let’s go.”
“I don’t like this,” Ilior muttered as they slipped into the shadows after the girl.
“Neither do I,” Selena replied. She rested her hand on her sword hilt and the dragonman did the same. “But our options run short.”
“Maybe Jarabax’s gift is a ship,” Ilior said.
“And a crew to man it,” Selena added. “I have a feeling we’re not going to be so lucky.”
Jarabax the Jinxed
Selena peered into the dimness around them. Her hand clutched the hilt of her sword and the sacred word for calling light was ready on her lips. In the daylight, hundreds of ramshackle homes built of old driftwood, the wreckage of ships, and other various flotsam were visible climbing up the hillside, one built against the next. The homes looked like they were holding one another up and the whole lot of them would slide down the hill in a light wind. In the dark, those same buildings didn’t seem fragile, but menacing. Selena felt as though they were walking through an insect hive and at any moment, their presence would be detected and the swarm would come boiling out of the black windows. She could feel Ilior’s tenseness beside her. Ahead, Hanna moved in silence and with ease along the twists and turns. Once, Selena thought she saw the glow of light in Hanna’s hand, a candle perhaps, but then gone again. Mostly, they moved in the dark.
At the start of their trek, that darkness was alive with sounds. Muffled shouts and curses from behind closed doors, the wail of a baby, a harsh barking laughter. Twice, vagrants stumbled out of the dark to accost them. The first man. Ilior frightened away by drawing himself up and stretching his lone wing. The second man, brandishing a rusted knife, wanted blood before coin. Selena blinded him with a light globe and the man fell away, cursing and stumbling across empty bottles that clattered in the alley.
Hanna had given Selena and Ilior a disapproving glare. “Try to be quieter.”
Soon enough, the streets grew silent, and now Selena felt an emptiness in the hovels around them.
“People live here?” Ilior wondered.
“Not many,” Hanna answered over her shoulder. “Squatters, mostly. Lots of these places are empty.”
It was on the tip of Selena’s tongue to ask if Hanna lived here—the girl seemed to know the island like the back of her hand—but she guessed the Hanna would never tell her.
“We are getting in pretty deep,” Ilior said.
“Agreed.” Selena quickened her pace to catch up to Hanna. “That’s far enough,” she whispered. “I don’t wish to be stranded on unfamiliar territory.”
Hanna scowled. “You want Jarabax’s gift or not?”
Selena held up her hands. “How do I know? I have no idea where we are going or what I agreed to.”
The full moon had emerged from behind a cloud, bathing the three in light. Hanna gave her a peculiar look.
“You aren’t sweating.”
Selena flinched. “I don’t know what you mean. And this is hardly the time or place—”
“It’s summertime. Hot as blazes,” Hanna persisted. “Everyone on Uago sweats. But you’re not.”
Ilior pushed between them. “Where are we going? Tell us or we walk away and your boss will be angry with you, yes?”
Hanna tore her scrutinizing gaze away from Selena and set it on Ilior. She planted her hands on her hips. “He’s only my boss if I want him to be. I work for myself. But if you don’t come with me, Jarabax might be mad. And we’re almost there. Hear that?”
Selena did. The soft susurration of ocean crashing on shore. The air smelled fresher; more salty and crisp and less rancid and thick. She nodded for Hanna to lead on.
They crested a final small hill, leaving the sagging hovels behind them. Here, the land was rocky and broken, the shoreline shattered. Large tide pools burbled between jagged hunks of rock that stuck up like teeth from the frothy water. Small caverns and alcoves swallowed the tide as it came in and Selena could hear the water echoing mournfully around them.
Offshore, the sea was a graveyard of dead ships. At least a hundred or so, by Selena’s estimate: brigs, and schooners and old cogs, each one broken and black in the moonlight, their masts bent at odd angles, their hulls splintered and crushed and blasted by cannon fire. These were the corpses of merchant vessels that had been destroyed by Uago’s pirates, or pirate ships themselves—the casualties of one of the hundred battles between the pirate collectives that comprised Uago’s long and bloody history. Most were half-sunk but a few were still afloat.
Selena frowned. “Jarabax makes his base here?”
“No,” Hanna said. “He’d never take you to his actual lair. I don’t even know where it is. We always meet somewhere different when I do a job for him.”
“Which one?” Selena asked, her gaze going to the closest vessels that were above the surface. “There.” She answered her own question as she saw a dim yellow light flickering in the cabin of a nearby ship: a brigantine whose hull was scorched black in places but mostly whole.
“How do we get there?” Ilior asked.
“Follow me,” Hanna said. “It’s tricky but if you’re careful, you might not get too wet.”
They followed the girl onto the broken shore, stepping on the rocks that she stepped on, careful not to slip on the dark algae. Water crashed in, splashing their legs. The dampness on Selena’s leggings sent a chill creeping up her spine.
When the rocks gave way to water and wreckage, Hanna led them over the prow of a submerged vessel. Its bowsprit scraped against the hull of the ship that was their destination. The wood was wet and had a slimy feel to it, and Selena thought it must snap under their weight—Ilior’s especially—but it did not. They clambered from it onto the deck of Jarabax’s temporary residence.
Once aboard the brig, four dark figures appeared from behind barrels or coils of moldy rope, their hands resting on the hilts of their cutlasses. Above them, hanging from rigging or on watch in the crow’s nest, were other pirates. Selena thought there were more hidden on this ship that wasn’t nearly in as bad a shape as the rest in the graveyard. She suspected the ship might even be seaworthy and her guess was confirmed when she noticed furled sails tied to every yard.
“Let them pass,” drawled a voice from inside the captain’s quarters. “They are my guests. Well, the Paladin is a guest and the urchin is owed a penny or two. Dragonman, you can wait outside.”
Ilior shook his head. Selena hesitated.
“Oh, for the god’s sake, you’d be dead already if I wished it,” drawled the voice.
“And your ship would be burnt to ash if I wished it,” Selena said.
A chuckle. “Indeed.”
Selena nodded to Ilior and he stood with his remaining wing against the cabin, as though he were the guard and the pirates around them the interlopers. Selena followed Hanna inside.
The captains’ quarters were sumptuously decorated in red velvets and colorful silks draped down from the lantern that hung from the deckhead. A table was laden with a fine dinner, partially eaten. The centerpiece was a roasted wild boar, half gone and with exposed ribs clawing the air. Be
side it, arrayed on a pewter platter, were grapes, pomegranates, and sliced mangos. Three small bowls of nuts, berries, and seeds encircled a plate of brown bread and a dish of half-melted butter. There was a roast pheasant as well, as yet untouched. The lantern’s meager light was giving way to the dawn that bloomed in the east. Jarabax sat at the head of the table, lazily spooning cranberry sauce into his mouth.
The pirate boss wore velvets and silk as fine and colorful as his quarters. Rings glinted on every finger and from both ears, and his teak-colored skin was pierced at lip and nose with more gold. His head was covered with a bandana of green silk, but Selena could see long ropes of dark hair hanging about his shoulders and down his back. He dabbed his thin mustaches with a napkin.
“Please.” Jarabax indicated that Selena should sit. “Have some dinner. Or should I say, breakfast, given the hour? I am Jarabax Ruhl.” He inclined his head. “Some call me Jarabax the Jinxed, but I can’t fathom why, given how bloody lucky I am.” He laughed, showing a wide smile of teeth, many gold. “I’ve been expecting you. After such a long and fruitless hunt, I would imagine you’re quite hungry.”
Selena ignored the words and the knowing smile that went with them. “Some bread, perhaps, thank you.”
Hanna perched on a chair and began shoveling food into her mouth.
“Not you,” Jarabax told her with mild contempt. He pelted her with a grape. “You’re here, girl, to get your coin and be gone. The grown-ups have important matters to discuss.”
Hanna flinched, a hurt look in her eyes that she quickly concealed with a scowl. She chewed what food she had managed to cram into her mouth with deliberate slowness and swallowed it with an audible gulp. She then approached Jarabax as one would a snake that might strike and held out her hand. The pirate boss dropped two coins into it. Pennies. Hardly enough to buy a heel of bread.
“Now, shoo.” Jarabax waved her away.
Hanna stomped across the boards but Selena stopped her. She filled a cloth napkin with bread, fruit, and had her wait while she cut a generous slice of pheasant. Hanna glanced at the bounty, hesitating. Then she tore it from Selena’s hands, and shot Jarabax a parting sneer.
