Taken With A Grain Of Salt (Salt Series Book 2)

by Aaron Galvin

  “Our master’s greetings to you also.” Fenton stepped around Lenny. “Forgive my ignorance. You have the look of Nomads, yet you stand before us, breathing our air. Never have I seen such a feat. H-how is this possible? Who are you?”

  Lenny saw Watawa sneer. Heard him mumble again in the Nomadic tongue.

  Quill seemed to find his brother’s words humorous. “Do you believe in the Ancients, Selkie? That they gifted this realm equally to their Salt Children, both Merrow and Nomad?”

  “Aye,” said Fenton.

  “We are their bastards.” Quill’s grin revealed pointed white teeth. “Call my kind what you will. The scorned ones, the in-betweens, the unloved, it makes no matter to us. We are the Unwanted.”

  Lenny felt brushed aside as his father stepped forward.

  “I’ve heard of ya kind,” said Declan. “It’s said the Sancul king wove his black magic over Merrows ravaged in the Nomadic War. Made ‘em birth half-breeds as an insult to both the Merrow king, Darius Longbeak, and the Nomad high chieftain, Standing Reef.”

  How does Pop know all that? Lenny wondered.

  “An educated slave…” Quill bowed his head to Declan. “Impressive.”

  “I might say the same for half-breeds,” Declan replied.

  Lenny grinned when his father’s response coaxed a laugh from Quill and the smallest of smiles from his one-eyed brother. Tell ‘em, Pop.

  “It remains our hope your master would forgive our father’s heathen shark blood in favor of our gentle dolphin mother’s,” said Quill.

  “Our Lord Master cares little for the blood running in your veins,” said Fenton. “So long as you bring anemonies with you. Have you come for the auction?”

  “Perhaps,” said Quill. “The Ancients granted my brother a vision. In it, Watawa saw a crayfish hoarding numerous bounties, greatly desired by our enemies. Our chieftain, No Boundaries, sent us to learn what treasures your master keeps hidden in his cavern.”

  “Your pardon, sirs,” said Fenton. “Our master is but a poor trader—”

  Watawa’s lone eyed squinted and he mumbled in his native tongue.

  “My brother names you liar, Selkie,” said Quill. “Yet I think you only misspoke. Please…continue. You were saying your master is poor?”

  Lenny saw beads of sweat forming atop Fenton’s balding head. Betta think of something fast, boss. Lenny nearly grinned, having never seen the head overseer at such a loss for words.

  “Aye,” said Fenton, finally. “Poor compared to owners in the capital. His stock is in the trading of slaves. Not caverns and titles. Nor does he hoard secrets or anemonies.”

  “Wiser minds than my own have said all that glistens is not silver and gold,” said Quill. “We heard your master’s auction mentioned on the currents. Perhaps we’ll stay and find the treasure from my brother’s vision there.”

  Slaves as treasure? Lenny scratched his head. These two must not a been to many auctions before.

  “I’ll inform Master August immediately,” said Fenton. “In the meantime, please allow Declan to show you our master’s hospitality. You shall have a warm bed—”

  Watawa mumbled.

  “We should like to accompany you to see your master.” Quill stepped forward. “Now.”

  “O-of course.” Fenton bowed away, his earrings flashing.

  Buckets a blood. Lenny thought to himself. Wish I knew what orders he’s sendin’ out to everybody right now. He imagined Fenton attempting to contact anyone near their master with a warning of the Nomad intrusion.

  Lenny snorted after Fenton led the brothers away, escorted by most of the hooded guardians he’d brought to the dock.

  Declan gave him an immediate scolding glance.

  Sorry, Pop. Lenny said. Neva seen Fenton so nervous. Those two are—

  Lenny felt cold iron manacles pinch around his wrists. He looked into the face of the one who shackled him. “Pop?”

  “When are ya gonna learn, pup?” Declan whispered.

  “Pop, I don’t—”

  “Ya heard Boss Fenton,” Declan addressed the few remaining taskmasters. “Get ‘em both outta here.”

  A guardian tugged at Lenny’s hood.

  Lenny held his ground. Glared at his father. “Ya’d send ya only son to the stocks?”

  “Nah,” Declan replied. “I’m sendin’ a captain who didn’t do what he was told and lost a Selkie in his charge because of it.” Declan glanced at the taskmaster. “Take ‘em to the stocks till Boss Fenton decides what he wants done with ‘em.”

  Lenny seethed as the taskmaster pulled hard. His father’s earrings flashed.

  Ya did good out there, pup. Declan’s voice filled Lenny’s head. But the penalty for losin’ one a ya crew is twenty lashes.

  I know what the penalty is. Lenny put his back to Declan and followed the taskmaster’s lead toward the stockyard.

  Then why’d ya come back? Declan asked.

  I’m a Dolan. Lenny stepped off the docks onto a sandstone path that led between the small guest homes August provided his guests and buyers.

  Yeah, ya are, said Declan. Ya comin’ back like this proves ya mettle. Might be Fenton gives ya less of the lash for the haul ya brung in.

  Might be? Lenny humphed. He shoulda set me free by now.

  How’s that? Declan asked.

  Part a the deal I made with Oscar. Said if I caught the Orc for him, he’d gimme my freedom. Thought between that and the reward August promised—

  Lenny felt a hand clap on his shoulder. Whip him around.

  “Ya enslaved that boy?” Declan growled.

  “He’s no boy, Pop. He’s an Orc—”

  “An innocent boy,” said Declan. “Orc or not. He’s no runna. Ya can see it in his face. And ya brought him here on a…a promise? From Oscar?”

  Lenny fumed when the taskmasters sniggered. He shook away from his captor. Stepped closer to his father. “I wanted to get us outta here.”

  “We’re Dolans.”

  “Yeah,” said Lenny. “We don’t run. I know. This wouldn’t a been runnin’, Pop. We was gonna swim outta here, free and clear, with marks from the Crayfish to prove it.”

  “Boss Fenton was right. Ya still have a lot to learn, pup.” Declan shook his head. “It’s not only about runnin’. We don’t leave others behind.”

  Lenny clenched his fists. “At least I—”

  “Dolan!”

  Lenny spun and saw Henry Boucher’s snarl before the larger man knocked him to the ground. He curled into a ball as Henry pummeled him.

  “Stupeed nipperkin,” said Henry. “Told you I would—”

  The rain of Henry’s fists stopped.

  Lenny heard a gasp, a scuffle. He risked a peek.

  Henry lay a few feet away, clutching his throat, coughing to catch his breath. He sneered as he climbed to his feet.

  A shadow blocked Lenny’s vision. His protector wore a black suit with white circles throughout. The same Ringed Seal suit Lenny wore.

  “Stay away from my son,” Declan growled at Henry.

  CHIDI

  Chidi watched her owner rise and charge Lenny’s father. Henry slashed and stabbed, his attacks brutal and rapid.

  The little man moved with surprising quickness.

  I don’t believe it. Chidi thought as she watched the elder Dolan dodge rather than counter, always a half step ahead of Henry.

  “Get him, Dolan!” The surrounding taskmasters cheered the fight on. “Whip that Lepa!”

  “Kill him, Declan,” Ellie whispered.

  Chidi’s heart urged she allow herself to be caught up in their excitement. A pit in her stomach bid otherwise. Still, as the bout raged on, Chidi noticed something in Henry’s face she had not witnessed often—frustration.

  Henry sneered, then bull-rushed Declan.

  Again, the little man danced away, a hair’s breadth from Henry running him through.

  “Call ya’self a catcha, do ya?” Declan taunted as he sidestepped another of Henry’s swipes
. “Seems to me all ya good for”—he dodged again—“is catchin’ little girls.”

  Henry allowed the force of his last attack to carry through, finding only air where Declan had stood. He slashed behind him blindly.

  Yes! Chidi thought as Declan caught Henry’s wrist, twisted, and forced the larger man to take a knee. In one swift movement, Declan pried the dagger free and caught the hilt of it under Henry’s chin.

  Chidi saw her owner’s head snap back from the blow.

  The crowd roared approval as Declan dropped his knee onto Henry’s ribs, eliciting a gasp from his opponent. With a flick of his wrist, Declan flipped the blade and had its tip hovering over Henry’s throat.

  Kill him, Chidi thought. Please, kill him.

  “Pipe down!” Declan addressed the crowd.

  Chidi gasped when they obeyed. He commands so much respect. She thought, gazing past the two fighters and noticing the tiny captive, made safe by the protection of his father. To her mind, Lenny Dolan seemed as shocked as she at how the events had unfolded. Their eyes connected.

  Chidi saw his shoulders sag. Chin dip.

  Henry coughed, drawing her attention. “Weel you keel a free man, slave?”

  Chidi watched him lean his head to the side, spit blood.

  “I theenk not,” said Henry. “Else your owner would keel you and your fool son.”

  “Ya plan on killin’ my boy?”

  “No,” said Henry. “I would skin ‘im first.”

  Declan chuckled. “He’s not worth the trouble it’d bring ya.”

  “What deed you say?”

  Declan stepped back. Still, Chidi noticed the elder Dolan positioned himself between Henry and Lenny. “Ringed suits sell cheap in the capital. Guarantee ya’d find a betta deal down there if that’s the type a suit ya lookin’ for.”

  “I don’t want a Ringed suit,” Henry snarled. “I want ‘is.” He pointed at Lenny.

  “Oh, ya mean Master Collins’s property?” Declan asked. “’Cause that suit and my pup belong to him.”

  Henry’s thin lips pulled tighter.

  “Don’t think Master Collins’d be too happy findin’ out some two-bit owna came into his cavern and skinned one a his slaves,” said Declan. “‘Specially a captain from one a his catcha crews.”

  Chidi suppressed a grin. She looked across the way and learned Lenny didn’t bother hiding his. Like father, like son.

  “Like I said, Ringed suits go cheap in New Pearlaya. Lepa suits like yours though…” Declan tsked. “Pricey. Especially all the way out here in the shallows, right, fellas?”

  Chidi watched understanding dawn in her owner’s eyes as the elder Dolan paraded around, drawing Henry’s attention to the surrounding ring of hooded taskmasters.

  “Yeah,” said Declan. “I hear buyers all the time askin’ Master Collins if he’s got any Lepa suits he’s willin’ to sell off. Betcha some buyers’d pay double too, if only to save ‘em a trip to the capital. Now, if only Master Collins knew where to get a suit like that…”

  Chidi felt greed oozing around her as the taskmasters, all bearing shoddy and worn Common Seal suits, eyed Henry’s silvery hood.

  Declan stopped his march. Feigned ignorance. “Anyone know ya down here, Henry? ‘Cause with that accent ya got, I’d guess ya a long way from home.” Declan knelt and placed Henry’s coral dagger on the stone floor, then kicked it over. “Still wanna talk about skinnin’ my pup?”

  The elation Chidi had felt melted as Henry picked his dagger up and pointed its tip at Lenny. “’E must pay for what ‘e deed.”

  “He will,” said Declan. “If he’s done anything wrong, that is.”

  “’E freed my Chidi. Punish ‘im.”

  Declan shook his head. “Don’t work like that. Boss Fenton’s the head overseer. Up to him what punish—”

  “Now,” Henry demanded. “I weel see ‘im pay now!”

  “Boss Fenton—”

  “Send someone to fetch ‘im,” said Henry. “I weel not leave until I see zat nipperkin pay.”

  Declan folded his arms across his chest. “Ya want Boss Fenton so bad? Go get him ya’self. He’s on his way up to Master Collins mansion right now.”

  He knows. Chidi marveled at Declan’s defiance. She had yet to meet an overseer who took kindly to an outsider’s demands. Those she’d witnessed give such ultimatums often ended up with the opposite reaction they originally intended.

  “Chidi,” Henry shouted.

  Her legs compelled her step forward. “Aye, master?”

  “Find Fenton,” said Henry dryly. “And eef you fail to bring ‘im, ze skin I would flay from ze nipperkin’s back, I take from yours instead.”

  Chidi felt the others watching her. She focused on Lenny most. The iron shackles around his wrists. Placed upon him, she guessed, for his part in helping her and Racer escape.

  Refuse, a tiny, brave voice whispered inside her. Stand your ground and take the beating Henry promises in Lenny’s stead.

  Henry vanquished the voice with a single word. “Go.”

  Chidi looked once more upon Lenny Dolan. His mop of curly hair, the stern demeanor he tried so hard to maintain. She honed on the sadness in his eyes most of all, the pair of them narrowed in regret at her. I’m sorry, Lenny.

  Chidi sprinted away along the sandstone path through the small commerce square, past the storehouses and the oyster farms. She barely noticed the slaves in cages beside the auction block as she angled northward, bound for the mansion atop the hill. A group had already begun the ascent. She noticed a pair of bare-skinned backs distinguished from the mass of grey Common suits surrounding them.

  Chidi stopped beside a whitewashed guesthouse. Squinted her eyes to see better. Those look like Nomads…

  She near jumped when hearing the slap of footfalls across the driftwood porch behind her.

  “Well, well, well. Look who found me…”

  Chidi turned.

  The broad-shouldered beast of a Salt Child leaned against the porch’s frame. He had shed his trench coat for a long-sleeved shirt, sewn of violet sea-grass. The seeming tights he wore resembled chaps; white along his inner thighs and crotch, grey overtaking everywhere else. Chidi noticed his bare feet webbed between the toes.

  “Come to learn what these marks mean after all, girl?” Ishmael unhooked the shells used to keep his shirt closed. The chest of it pulled open, revealing innumerable scars lining his pectorals. Ishmael grinned. “Come inside with me. I’ll tell you all about them.”

  Chidi shook her head. “M-my master sent me—”

  “Did he?” Ishmael hopped off the porch and reached Chidi before she thought to move. “How kind of him to send me such a beautiful gift. Remind me to thank him later.”

  Chidi shivered as Ishmael ran his fingers along her shoulders and up the back of her neck.

  “You know, I don’t normally lay with Silkies,” he whispered. “They bore me. Oh, but when I saw you on that pier…” He sighed as he stepped back to look her full in the face.

  Chidi flinched when he reached out to stroke her cheek.

  Ishmael chuckled. “You’re right to fear me, girl. Only fools do not.” He dropped his hand from her face. “So…you’ve tracked me down to learn how I earned these scars, have you?”

  “P-please, sir. My master sent me to fetch the Crayfish’s overseer,” said Chidi. “H-he’ll beat me if I don’t return.”

  “Would you like it if I beat him instead?” Ishmael grinned broadly to show Chidi his pointed, razor-sharp teeth. “Perhaps I would eat him after.”

  “Y-you’re a Nomad?”

  “Half,” said Ishmael. “Else how would I breathe your air? Let others tell you what they will about the ignorance of savages. I found them wise enough to recognize me as one of their own, despite my Merrow mother’s blood. They even granted me a name. I am Red Water of the Bull nation.”

  Chidi’s eyes widened.

  “Ah. That’s more like it.” Ishmael laughed. “You’ve heard of me then?�
�

  “Aye,” said Chidi, bowing her head.

  “And your master? Has he heard of my Nomad name?”

  Chidi nodded. She felt Ishmael place his finger under her chin, gently lift it. She stared into his greenish-gold eyes.

  “Good,” said Ishmael. “Then he will know I always get what I want. Carry out the errand he sent you on. Then give him a message from me upon your return.”

  “A-aye, sir.” Chidi stammered. “What message?”

  “Tell him Red Water will have you.”

  “Sir,” said Chidi. “My master—”

  Chidi trembled in Ishmael’s grip as he placed his free hand roughly over her mouth.

  “I will have you, girl. The next time we meet, you will belong to me,” said Ishmael. He shoved her away. “Now go. Deliver my words to your master.”

  Chidi ran.

  KELLEN

  “Kid.” Edmund slapped Kellen’s cheeks. “Listen to me. We don’t have much time. Remember what I told you up top about fighting?”

  Kellen brushed away the water droplets falling from the old marshal’s beard. Though the ceiling glittered with the promise of enchantment, the illusion vanished the moment Kellen sat up. A ring of hooded men guarded the perimeter, many of them bearing lit torches that danced shadows on the stony cavern walls.

  He pinched his nostrils to shut them of the scent of muck and vomit, only to discover the odor clung to his own skin. Kellen threw up at the realization.

  “It’s all right, kid. You’ll get used to the slave stink.”

  Kellen dry heaved as Edmund patted him on the back. He swooned, but caught himself. Forced his eyes to remain open and stare at the cracks in the cavern floor until the world stopped spinning.

  “Remember what I told you,” said Edmund. “Fight. It’s the only chance you’ve got of escape. You have to earn a suit.”

  Shivering, Kellen rubbed his shoulders to warm them. “Wh-where’s my friends.”

  Edmund shook his head. “Can’t worry about them right now. Listen—”

  “Where’s my friends?”

  Edmund hung his head.

  Kellen climbed to his feet. He surveyed the rocky area as a seal surfaced in the small inlet pool Edmund had dragged him from. Bryant surfaced behind the animal, gasping for air.