Daughter of the Pirate King

by Tricia Levenseller

  Voices and footsteps reach my ears. I quickly place the dagger into my right boot and drop the book back with my other things. I sit down in what I hope is an inconspicuous manner as three men enter the brig.

  “She don’t look like much,” one says to the others.

  “But did you see what she did to Gastol and Moll?” another asks. “Dead as rocks.”

  The third man remains quiet, watching me as the others do.

  “Have you finished ogling?” I ask. “Or are you hoping I’ll perform tricks for you?”

  “Don’t mind us,” the first pirate says. “It’s not every day you get to see the pirate king’s own flesh and blood.”

  “And am I what you were expecting?”

  “They say the pirate king is as big as a whale and as fierce as a shark. We weren’t expecting a tiny little thing.”

  “I must take after my mother,” I say. I’ve never met my mother, so I couldn’t say for certain, but my father tells me I received my red hair from her.

  The rest of the day is much like this. Pirates come and go, taking whatever chance they can get to see the pirate king’s daughter up close. After the first bunch, I stay mostly quiet.

  It’s close to nightfall when my last visitor shows up. Whereas all the other pirates arrived in groups, this man comes alone.

  He’s not much to look at, this one. Medium height and build. Brown hair and beard. He does look older than most of the other pirates on board. Maybe not quite thirty, but it’s hard to tell with the beard hiding the bottom half of his face. He’s got a gold coin in his right hand, which he moves over his knuckles with ease.

  “Hello, Alosa,” he says. “Name’s Theris.”

  I’d been leaning back on two legs in my chair, but now I swing forward, straightening myself. “I must have seen every man on board pass through here at least once today. Why should I remember you? Or care what your name is?”

  “You shouldn’t,” he says, reaching a hand up and scratching his forehead. His fingers move fast, but the movement is unmistakable. He draws the letter K. “I’m not a very interesting man to know.”

  The K is for Kalligan. It’s the signal men under my father’s employ use to identify themselves. Theris must be the man on the ship working for my father. He would have been the one who let my father know that the crew of the Night Farer wanted to kidnap me in the first place.

  You never know when unfriendly ears are listening in, so I keep the conversation casual. “So it would seem.”

  “Just wanted to catch a glimpse of the pirate king’s daughter.”

  “And let me catch a glimpse of you?”

  “Precisely. Sometimes survival isn’t about what you can do, but who you know.”

  “Noted,” I say icily.

  Theris nods before retreating.

  I wasn’t expecting my father’s man to make himself known to me. We have different jobs on the ship. Theris’s is to provide my father with information about this ship and its captain. Mine is to play the role of thief. We shouldn’t need to help each other. In fact, we’re expected to be able to perform our tasks alone.

  But my father is counting on me not to fail. Perhaps his desire to find the map is so great that he’s ordered Theris to keep an eye on me. On the one hand, I can understand why he wouldn’t want to take any chances, but on the other, I’m deeply insulted. I can handle this mission on my own, and I won’t be calling on Theris for help.

  * * *

  I have to wait until nightfall before I can start. I can tell when the sun sets because most of the pirates retire below. I can’t see them from the brig, but I can smell them. They can’t be far. I can imagine them sleeping in hammocks or on a straw-strewn floor. Whatever it may be, it’s bound to be better than the brown-caked floor I’ll be sleeping on. I cringe at the thought.

  I start humming again as I shrug on my coat, which is fashioned similarly to the justaucorps men wear, but mine was made for a woman’s figure. Mandsy made it for me. She can wield a needle just as well as she can wield a sword, which is only one of the many reasons why I made her part of my crew.

  Though the coat will help me look like any other sailor if I’m seen from a distance, I hope I won’t have much need to blend in once I’m above deck. I’m counting on the cover of darkness to mask me.

  Once I’ve got my cell unlocked, I silence my humming. I drift around the lower areas of the ship, getting a feel for the shape of it. A storage room for food and supplies, a treasury for the pirates’ plunder, a modest kitchen, and the main crew’s sleeping quarters make up the space belowdecks. Easy enough to remember.

  Now I need to make it into the captain’s quarters without being seen. I don’t have Draxen figured out yet, but if I were trying to hide something important, like a map, I’d keep it close.

  There is a possibility, however, that Draxen doesn’t even know the map is on board. It belonged to his father, who is a descendant from one of the three ancient pirate lord lines. (I am, of course, descended from one of the others.) Lord Jeskor may not have even told his sons about the map. No matter. The map has to be on board. Jeskor would have had it here when he died, and Draxen’s quarters used to be his own. They’re most definitely the first place I should look.

  I peek up over the last step of the stairs, observing the deck. It’s hard to see, as the moon is almost new. Naught but a sliver of light shines down upon the dark deck of the Night Farer. The ship was once a standard caravel ship, a type of vessel used for maritime exploration. Most pirates steal them from the land king’s own armada. Then we make adjustments to fashion the ship to our own liking. I can see that Jeskor has had the rigging redone. He’s exchanged the traditional lateen sail on the mainmast with a square-rigged sail. Smart, as it’ll give him more speed. I also noted, while I was back on my father’s ship and watching the Night Farer approach, that Jeskor’s added a figurehead below the bowsprit. I doubt the land king has ever had large carvings of women fashioned to the fronts of his ships. He’s much too practical for that.

  There are only a few men above deck. Someone’s at the helm, a man sits in the crow’s nest, and a couple of others roam the deck to ensure all is well. I can tell exactly where they are, because they hold lanterns out in front of them.

  Draxen and Riden will already be in their quarters. Assuredly sleeping. They just made an impressive capture—they will have celebrated. Now they’re likely sleeping off their drink. I anticipate tonight’s venture going over smoothly.

  There are two separate levels above deck at the stern of the ship. The lower level likely holds Riden’s quarters. The captain’s will be off the aftercastle.

  All I need to do is get past the man at the helm. Luckily for me, the man seems drowsy. He lazily leans against the railing while holding the helm with one hand.

  Draxen’s doors are likely unlocked. He wouldn’t need them locked while he’s in there. Unless he’s paranoid or mistrusting of his crew. He didn’t seem to be either sort to me, so I should be able to get right in.

  I crouch on the deck beside the stairs that lead up to the second level. I wait for the man’s head to loll to the side. Standing on my toes, I carefully creep up the companionway. All is well until I get to the last step, which creaks out a sound so loud in the silence, it feels as though I could have heard it from belowdecks. I feel my body go rigid at my mistake.

  The sailor at the helm jerks awake fiercely, turning his head toward the sound. Toward me. “Blast it all, you gave me a start! Please tell me you’re here to relieve me, Brennol.”

  He’s too tired, and the sky is too dark for him to tell who I really am. Quickly, I play along, lowering my voice as much as I can. “Aye.” I keep my response short. I’ve no idea what Brennol sounds like, and I can’t risk my voice being off.

  “Thank the stars. I’ll be off, then.”

  He heads belowdecks while I stand there. I need to hurry before the real Brennol shows up for his shift. Without another thought, I slip inside Draxen’s
quarters.

  I spot him instantly, lying on the bed. His face is turned away from me, but I can see the steady rise and fall of his chest. He’s out. A candle burns softly near the bed, offering the room a little light and warmth. The place isn’t filthy, but neither is it exactly tidy. This is a small blessing, at least. It’s much harder to mask thieving when tossing a clean room. It’s easier for the owner to tell if something’s been touched.

  Now I get to work, starting at the desk, where he has various papers and maps strewn about.

  The map I seek will be different from the others. For one, it’s older. It’ll be fragile and darkened with age. Also, the map will not bear the language of the common tongue. Its language, too, is more ancient. There are few who know it. Lastly, the map is not complete. It is one of three pieces, separated long ago and dispersed to the three pirate lords of the time. With the three pieces united, the bearer will be able to find the legendary Isla de Canta, an island heaped with untold treasure and protected by its magical occupants, the sirens.

  It’s not anywhere on the desk or near it. I checked each drawer for false bottoms and hidden compartments. I move on to the cupboards where he keeps his clothes, rifling through every pocket in each garment. I feel a desperate need to wash my hands afterward, but I squelch the urge.

  Instead I continue to scour the place. I pick at each wooden panel in the floor to see if anything is hidden underneath. I lightly tap the walls, listening for irregularities that hint at secret openings. I strike the last wall a bit too harshly, and Draxen rolls over in his sleep. Thank the stars, he does not wake.

  Deep sleeper, that one.

  Lastly I check under the bed. He’s got a few things here. Thick woolen stockings, a broken sextant, a telescope.

  When I want to sigh in exasperation, I swallow instead.

  It’s not here. It’s not anywhere in this room or the adjoining washroom and sitting room. And that means it’s somewhere else on the ship. But the ship is enormous. There are countless hiding places. And I will have to check them all until I find the map.

  I’m going to have a miserable time of it.

  Opening the captain’s door quietly, I peek my head out. I’ve spent over half the night. No point in doing any more searching now. Might as well return to my cell for some sleep.

  Brennol seems to have made his appearance, and he looks wide-awake. He has both hands placed firmly at the helm. How to get past him? If I simply walk out, he’ll notice I’m not the captain. I’m too short.

  If I could just make it down the companionway, he probably wouldn’t take notice of me. But it’s a good ten feet away. I tiptoe back into Draxen’s quarters and search for something to use.

  Eventually I find a copper coin. Perfect. Back at the door, I place the coin over the top of my thumb and flick it toward the port side of the stern. Brennol turns his head in that direction, leaning forward and squinting. Quickly, yet silently, I make for the stairs on the right and descend them, remembering to skip the step at the top.

  When I hit the deck, I slam my back into the wall behind the companionway, ducking out of sight. I think I took the final step too loudly. And Brennol is bound to be even more alert now. I should wait a couple of beats before heading belowdecks.

  A door to my left opens.

  The door to Riden’s quarters.

  He looks first to his left, then to his right. “I thought I heard something. ’Fraid I’m a light sleeper. Didn’t expect you, though.”

  I have only a moment to register the fact that all he has on are a pair of breeches before he reaches for me.

  I have nowhere to go. Between the walls and the stairs, the only way out is through him. And I suppose it makes sense to simply let him catch me, even though my instincts scream at me not to.

  I want to be here. I have a job to do. It’s okay to let him catch me.

  “How did you get out of your cell?” he asks. Not an ounce of sleep traces his words, though he had to have just woken. He grabs me by my upper arms, holding me in place.

  I say, “I stopped the first pirate I saw and asked really nicely.”

  His face is cloaked in shadows, but I swear I can hear his smile. “I’m the only one who has a key.”

  “Perhaps you dropped it, then. That was careless of you.”

  He touches his side as if to grab a pocket, then remembers he’s not wearing a shirt. A fact I haven’t been able to forget.

  It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t smell so good. Pirates are supposed to stink. Why does he have to smell like salt and soap?

  He yanks me forward, and I realize I should probably be putting forth at least a little resistance. So I place my hands on his chest and shove. The night air is brisk, but Riden is still warm from being wrapped in bed. Warm and solid and good smelling.

  With iron-gripped fists. If he bruises my other arm, I will have to retaliate.

  He hoists me to the door he came out of. It’s as dark as the end of a cave in here, but Riden seems to find whatever he’s looking for just fine. He pulls me back outside with him and holds something up in the air for me to see.

  “This would be the key I so carelessly dropped,” he says.

  “Strange, that.”

  He sighs. “Alosa, what are you even doing out here?”

  “You’ve kidnapped me. What do you think I’m doing out here?”

  “The rowboats are over there.” He points to the opposite side of the ship. “So why would you be lollygagging around my door?”

  “I wanted to kill my captors before I left.”

  “How’d that work out for you?”

  “Still working on it.”

  “I bet.”

  Down the stairs we go, past the sleeping crew, and into the brig. Riden shoves me back into my cell. Then he tries the key.

  Obviously, it doesn’t fit.

  Riden observes it more closely. Surprise takes over his face. “You switched them.”

  “Hmm?” I ask innocently.

  He comes into the cell with me. “Give it to me.”

  “What?”

  “The key.”

  “You have the key in your hand.”

  “It doesn’t fit.”

  “You can hardly blame me if you broke it.”

  I don’t expect him to buy any of what I say. I’m learning that I enjoy toying with him. I like the surprise and … not respect, but something close to it, that shows on his face when he learns something new about me. But I can’t let him discover too much about my true nature. That’d be dangerous.

  For him.

  Because I won’t fail. I can only imagine what my father would do to me if I did. But I’m not afraid. I’m doing this not only for my father but also because I want to. Because I’m a good pirate and the hunt is thrilling. Because I want to reach the siren island as much as any other pirate. Perhaps even more so. I’m determined to do whatever it takes to get the map. If Riden becomes too difficult, I will remove him from my path by any means necessary.

  “I’ll give you one more chance to hand it over, princess.”

  It’s brighter down here. Several lanterns are lit outside the cells. I can see Riden’s face perfectly. In the getup he’s wearing, I can see a lot of him perfectly.

  “I don’t have anything,” I say again.

  He steps toward me slowly, keeping his eyes on mine as he does so. I back up until I hit the wall, but he continues to advance. His face is too close. I can see flecks of gold in his eyes. They’re lovely eyes. I’d like to study them longer.

  But suddenly his hands are on my hips.

  I think I might stop breathing, but I’m unsure. I’m startled, certainly; am I supposed to slap his hands away or stand still?

  He moves his hands up my stomach, never taking his eyes off me. Now I know I’m breathing because I think I might have just gasped. I’m pretty sure I should slap his hands away.

  But I don’t. Once he reaches my ribs, he moves his hands to my arms, running them up to my sh
oulder.

  “I don’t know what you’re wearing,” he says. “But I like it.”

  “Custom-made,” I say.

  “And then stolen by you?”

  I shrug. “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “You’re touching me.”

  “I’m trying to get my key back.”

  “Sounds like an excuse to touch me.”

  He smiles and leans forward so his mouth is at my ear. “I don’t see you stopping me.”

  “If I had, I wouldn’t be able to do this.”

  His eyes shoot up in alarm, but he doesn’t have enough time to guess what I’m about to do until I’ve already done it.

  Yes, I knee him. Right between the legs.

  He takes some time to recover. Enough for me to exit the cell and lock him in.

  He stares at me levelly. “That was low.”

  “I thought it was rather brilliant, actually. Besides, you said you wouldn’t touch me. I can see your word does not mean much to you.” I throw at him the same words he used on me.

  “And you said if we brought your blasted luggage on board, you wouldn’t put up a fight.”

  “I didn’t put up a fight. I got out of my cage fight-free.”

  “Lass, let me out of the cage.”

  “I think you’re more suited for it than I am.”

  He bangs a fist against one of the bars. “Let me out. You know you won’t get far. All I have to do is yell, and over half the crew will be upon you.”

  “And I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces when they find their first mate trapped in the brig.”

  “Alosa,” he says, a hint of warning in his voice.

  “Answer something for me, and I will spare you the embarrassment of your crew finding you.”

  “What?” He’s clearly agitated. I suppose I would be, too, if I had been duped by a pretty face.