The woman guffawed at Reecah’s ignorance.
Clive rolled his eyes. “The dragons, you twit.”
Reecah scowled and adjusted her pack. “Hardly!”
Making sure Clive didn’t attempt to stop her, Reecah skipped out of his reach and hurried down the street.
As she walked toward taller buildings, she couldn’t help overhear Clive say, “I told you this was a dangerous part of town, princess. Good thing I accompanied you.”
“Pfft, please. You think I’d be cowed by a tart like that. Break her little nose soon as she batted an eyelash. How do you expect me to enjoy life’s simple pleasures cooped up in the baron’s manor? With his simpleton staff? I think not.”
Princess? Baron? Reecah stole a glance at the woman only to be met by a sneer.
Looking around at other finely dressed people milling about the doorways and stumbling around the street emitting shrieks of heinous laughter, the only ones remotely dressed as well as Clive and the princess, were doormen standing at attention outside seedy-looking establishments. The plaques above their doorways promised carnal delights.
Reecah wasn’t sure what went on behind their doors, but her reddening cheeks told her she knew enough. So far, Thunderhead was nothing but a lecherous town inhabited by people on opposite ends of the social classes. From the hovels in the northern section of town to the opulent woman and Clive.
Sturdier buildings lined the calmer waters of the fjord, their large jetties housing two and three-masted merchant ships bustling with bare-chested sailors and scantily clad females busy loading and off-loading crates and sacks of wares.
A large sign fronting one of the larger dockside buildings advertising, Thunderhead Shipwright, swung in the breeze.
Walking down an alley between the previous building and the ship maker, Reecah shrugged out of her rucksack and pulled her waterskin free, slaking her thirst as she observed the organized chaos of the shipyards.
Burly men and tough-looking women bustled around the wide dock, jumping to and from gangplanks laden with sacks and crates. Livestock clomped down a longer ramp, patiently pulled by skinny boys and girls barely old enough to be in their teens.
Further down the fjord, three black war galleons were tethered to the largest pier in view—their ominous high sides towered above the dockside.
A muscular, redheaded woman chewing on a splinter of wood with dirt smearing her pale face sneered. “Whatcha lookin’ at, wench? Ain’t never seen a war galley afore?”
Reecah’s head snapped back to the dock jutting into the water before her. The brown-eyed woman’s stare bore into her, making Reecah afraid to say anything, especially after her last encounter with the people of Thunderhead. “Um, no, actually. I haven’t.”
The redhead’s scowl deepened. “A wise one, eh? I oughtta chuck ya in the brine.”
The woman, her thin tunic tied high up her ribcage to expose a washboard stomach, dropped her sack on the dock—brown dust wafting through the burlap—and started Reecah’s way.
“Cahira! Pick that up and get to back to work or it’ll be the scuppers for yer sorry hide! The ship ain’t to be lading itself!” a large man shouted from the deck of the nearest ship.
“Sorry hide! Sorry hide!” Raver called from the eave hanging over the alley.
Reecah cringed. She didn’t need the featherbrain to work Cahira up further.
The redhead stopped dead in her tracks, her hard shoulders tensing. Judging by her murderous look, Reecah was thankful Cahira wasn’t above obeying the command of the rotund sailor standing against the bow rail of a three-masted brig—the Serpent’s Slip. “If I so much as lays eyes on ya agin, I’ll slit yer throat, ya hear me?”
Reecah offered Cahira a meek smile that only served to deepen the redness in the dockhand’s face. Not wanting to risk fate, Reecah stuffed her waterskin in her rucksack and retreated down the alley.
Inquisitive stares stalked her as she strolled through the heart of Thunderhead. Judging by the expressions she received from the citizens on the street, she came to understand that a woman bearing a quarterstaff, two swords, a bow, and a quiver full of arrows wasn’t the norm in the port city. She wondered how people got their food if they didn’t hunt for it.
Tables bearing pungent herbs and spices and various types of fish and bread lined the street on both sides, some beneath leaning rooftops while others sat beneath the midday sun.
Her empty stomach growled at the savoury aromas, compelling her toward a tall, scrawny youth with tight curls.
“Copper kippers here, lassie! Get your copper kippers!” The boy’s attention latched onto her. “You have the uncanny appearance of a connoisseur of fine brine. Taste my deep-sea morsels and I dare you to refuse more.”
Reecah lifted her chin and smiled, taking in the boy’s dimpled cheeks that were framed by brown curls falling to his shoulders. The poorly put together table bore the weight of three wooden buckets, each less than half full of skinny, silver fish—herrings, mackerel, and a fish Reecah had never seen before.
She pointed to the unknown fish. “Hi. I would love to try your fish. I’m not familiar with that one.”
“Oh, my pretty lady, you’re in for a real treat, let me tell you. That there is a snapper.”
Reecah pulled her finger back.
The boy laughed. “It’s dead.” Reaching into the bucket, he fished out something unsavoury looking and threw it to the ground behind him. Wiping his hand on his filthy, brown breeches, he pulled a snapper from the bucket and held it out for her inspection.
“I can eat it like this?”
The boy shrugged. “Don’t see why not. They’re better cooked, but they’re certainly edible. Mind you, they have a strong flavour.”
He produced a well-honed knife with a curved tip from behind one of the buckets and expertly filleted the fish. He handed her a darker strip.
Reecah accepted the fish and sniffed at it, salivating. Popping it into her mouth, she tentatively bit into it. The boy wasn’t kidding about the sharp flavour.
“Told you. Here. Try this piece.”
Swallowing the darker strip, she bit into the rest of the fillet and grinned, sucking at her fingers and nodding. “Yes, much nicer.”
The youth crossed his arms, pleased. He nodded at the other two buckets. “Care to try these?”
Reecah nodded with a big smile.
The young man pulled out a warped cutting board and sliced up chunks of fish.
Hungry as she was, Reecah couldn’t resist. They would be much better over a fire, but looking around, there was little chance of preparing one in the middle of the city.
The youth urged her to eat as many as she liked. She felt rude devouring the fish in front of him, amongst the thrall of strangers pressing into the street market, but she hadn’t eaten a decent meal since that first night below Peril’s Peak.
As she finished the seventh small piece, the boy grinned and handed her a dirty cloth to wipe her hands. “That’ll be seven coppers, ma’am.”
At twenty-one years of age, Reecah wasn’t sure what threw her most. Being called ma’am, or being asked to pay for the fish. “B-but I thought you said it was okay to try them?”
The boy’s smile dropped. “Aye. A copper a kipper. You ate seven, so you owe me seven coppers.”
Reecah swallowed, shaking her head. “Um, I don’t have money. Where I come from, we trade each other for things. We don’t use money unless we wish to buy a finery.”
The boy’s brows knit together, his voice going up in pitch. “What do you mean you don’t have money? Look at you. You’re a…a…a…” His gaze lingered on her gear. “What are you?”
Not knowing how to explain herself, she said, “I’m just a traveller who wandered into Thunderhead looking for someone to help me.”
“By giving you food?”
A couple of people stopped what they were doing to investigate the commotion.
“Well, no. Not exactly. I’m trying to find a ship
to take me to the high king.”
The boy’s voice rose higher yet. “The high king?”
“Yes. Is that not alright?”
“You can’t afford seven coppers, yet you expect passage aboard a ship?”
“I hadn’t really thought about having to pay my way. I guess I’m used to people being neighbourly.”
The boy turned to the spectators. “Did you hear that? She’s used to people being neighbourly. Hah!”
His piercing green eyes bore into her. “Tell me, little miss, ‘I don’t expect to pay for anything,’ where do you come from? Some backward place like Fishmonger Bay?”
“Fishmonger! Fishmonger!” Raver cawed, bobbing his head from atop a ripped awning behind the fish merchant.
Those gathered around laughed, their eyes searching out Raver.
Reecah nearly choked. “I, uh, dunno. Just someplace…”
The boy crossed his arms and nodded, reminding her of a haughty adult as he peered down his nose.
“You don’t know? Just someplace, huh?” He leaned across the table. “Let me tell you something. In this place, we pay our way. And, if you don’t hand over what’s owing, I’ll call the Watch and let them deal with you.”
His creepy stare studied her physique, causing her more than a little discomfort. “Yep. They’ll deal with you just fine I’m thinking.” He rose up on his toes, searching the crowd.
Reecah reached across the table, seizing an arm and pulling him down. “No, please. I don’t want any trouble. I will, uh…perhaps I can trade you something.”
She shrugged free of her rucksack and rummaged through it, trying to locate something of value. Nothing. Patting down her tunic, she felt the magic dragon journal and the Dragon’s Eye gemstone hidden in an interior pocket of her cloak. She wasn’t about to part with those.
The boy walked around the table, his eyes lingering on her swords. “I’ll take one of those.”
Reecah followed his gaze. “My swords? I can’t let you take one of those. They’re special.”
He arched an eyebrow, crossing his arms and raised his voice to include the people standing around. “Ain’t gonna be much use to you with only one hand, I’m thinking. That’s how we deal with thieves in Thunderhead.”
Reecah’s eyes grew wide. Sensing tears coming on, she tried not to draw attention to the fact that Raver had landed on the centre bucket and pecked at its contents.
Some emissary for dragonkind she was turning out to be. Barely arrived in Thunderhead and already she was on the verge of emotional collapse—in the presence of a teenaged fishmonger, no less. The irony of the boy’s profession wasn’t lost on her.
Gritting her teeth to keep from openly sobbing, she unbuckled the sword belt hanging from her right hip and studied it with sadness. It had been her great-grandmother’s. She fought to keep her voice from breaking. “I’ll give you this…” The boy grabbed for it, but she pulled it back. “…To hang onto until I come back with the money. Okay?”
“Both swords.”
“What? One of these is worth more than you’d make in a year. You can take one or call the Watch, I don’t care.” Reecah scowled, hoping she sounded tougher than she felt.
Grunting, the boy snatched the weapon by the scabbard. “Fine. But don’t expect seven coppers will be enough to repay your debt. I have to charge you for keeping your sword safe. And then there’s interest.”
Reecah’s eyes narrowed. If the busybody crowd wasn’t there to witness it, she might have flattened his nose. Instead, their amusement alerted the boy to what was going on behind him.
Spinning around, the boy jumped at Raver but missed. “Shoo, you thief!”
Raver landed on the awning, a large fish in his beak.
Fuming, the boy turned his vexed scowl on Reecah. “Look what you’ve done. Distracted me and now that stupid bird has gotten another. A shiny silver should compensate for your transgression.”
Reecah struggled to keep the angered frustration from her voice, hoping the boy wouldn’t figure out that Raver was with her. “Fine! If you would be so kind as to direct me to where I might find work, I’d be most grateful.”
The boy cast a glance at Raver before sliding the sword free and testing its balance, nodding approvingly. The faces of the gathering also appreciated the sword’s quality before they disbanded and went about their business.
Sliding the sword home, the boy considered Reecah with one hand under his chin, his eyes flicking over her body. “You wish to find employment, hmm? I might know just the place for one such as you.”
The Naughty Saucer
Carrying two buckets of fish for the fishmonger, Reecah followed the boy through the streets, back the way she had come. She was relieved the rude woman and her courtier no longer lingered around the sharp bend in the roadway. Rounding the corner, they strolled onto the uneven cobblestones until the roadway became mud.
At one point, the boy said, “I’m Tarrek, by the way.”
Reecah acknowledged his comment with a scowl.
Just when she thought her burning shoulders would take no more, Tarrek stopped and put his bucket down.
“Stay here,” was all he said before disappearing between two rank-smelling warehouses.
Reecah lowered the buckets and rubbed her shoulders, stretching the stiffness from her back. She wasn’t used to carrying weight in that manner. Waiting for Tarrek, it crossed her mind that maybe he wasn’t coming back. She thought about inspecting the darkened alleyway but before she gathered the nerve, several voices sounded from the direction of the ocean.
Tarrek led three young males into the street and stepped aside. “See, I told you. Outfitted like a ranger.”
The tallest youth, a dark-haired boy younger-looking than Tarrek, stepped up to her. Without a word, he ran his gaze up and down her front and stepped behind her to do the same to her backside. “Are you a ranger?”
Reecah turned to meet his inspection. “A ranger? What’s that?”
Pursing his thin lips, the dark-haired boy nodded. “Ya, she’ll do.” He tossed Tarrek a ring of keys. “Show her a room.”
The other boys raised their eyebrows, nodding in unison.
Reecah frowned. “Wait a minute. Where am I going? I thought he was taking me to a job.”
The dark-haired boy glowered at Tarrek. “You didn’t tell her?”
Tarrek shrugged. “Didn’t want to scare her away.”
“Our clients won’t be impressed if she bolts halfway through, you dolt.”
“Come on, Axe. She ain’t going nowhere.” Tarrek patted the sword hanging from his waist, raising his eyebrows twice in quick succession. “Not without this.”
“Ah, that’s where you got that.” Axe nodded, glancing between the sword his friend carried and the one on Reecah’s hip. “Nice. Well see to it she don’t run, else you know who will be using that sword on your sorry carcass.”
“Ya, ya,” Tarrek said and started down the street to where it met the cobblestones. “Come on miss. Let’s get you sorted.”
Reecah glanced at Axe and the smirking faces of the other boys.
Axe motioned with dark eyes for her to go after Tarrek.
Happy to get away from the menacing youth who reminded her of a miniature Viper, Reecah joined Tarrek on the paving stones. “Where are we going?”
Tarrek fast stepped ahead. “You’ll see soon enough.”
She hurried to keep up. “So, what’s my job? What am I supposed to do?”
Raver cawed as he flew overhead.
Tarrek’s gaze followed the raven. “Whatever you’re told, that’s what,” he snapped, pointing a dirty finger in her face. “Why so many damned questions? You want to get your sword back?”
Without waiting for an answer, he stormed toward the end of the street where it turned at the fancy buildings to head up the fjord.
“Of course, I do. I’m just curious,” Reecah called after him, jogging to keep pace with his long-legged strides. “I want to make s
ure I do a good job.”
It was hard to tell, but she was sure he said, “Do whatever they want and you’ll be fine.”
She slowed her pace as the words sank in, not liking the inference. The woman falling out of her undergarments came to mind. Surely, he didn’t mean that.
If Tarrek knew she had stopped, he didn’t let on until he approached a well-dressed doorman standing outside the fanciest building at the end of the street—its gables swooping in great arcs, adorned with intricate, gilded swirls. A shingle over the doorman’s head in the shape of a fancy goblet lying atop a curved plate squeaked in the breeze.
The two exchanged words, their gaze swinging her way. The doorman smiled and nodded.
“Hurry up. Let’s go!” Tarrek called.
Not knowing what else to do, Reecah approached the building. She needed to get her sword back.
Raver glided on an air current down the street, his graceful course taking him over the top of the fancy building and out of sight.
Bowing deeply, the doorman held the iron-strapped door open for her to enter a long hallway leading into the smoke-filled building. “Welcome to the Naughty Saucer.”
The odd name gave Reecah pause.
Tarrek motioned her inside with his head and let the door squeal shut behind him. Urging her down the hallway, he said, “Hey, I don’t think you told me your name.”
Reecah met his gaze, hoping her mounting fear wasn’t reflected in her eyes. She didn’t dare tell him her real name in case someone from Fishmonger Bay came looking for her. “Um, Grimelda. Grimelda Grog.” She winced. They were the first two names that had come to mind.
Tarrek studied her face as if he didn’t believe her. Finally, he nodded. “Very well, GG it is. Follow me.”
Muted music and the noise of people carrying on rose to a raucous din as they reached the end of the hallway and turned into a great room lined on the inside wall by a long, oak counter fronted with stools laden with all sorts of colourful people in varying states of dress.
Reecah grasped Tarrek by the shoulder and whispered harshly into his ear. “I’m not working here, I’ll tell you that right now.”
Legends of the Lurker Box Set Page 29
