by Elle Cardy
Jasmine pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the inn and slid into the smoke-choked den. It was another world. The air was thick with the smell of tobacco and rum, a cloying stench that made her screw up her face in distaste. No sweet perfume of the sea here. No fresh breeze to brush against her skin. The inn reminded her of the cramped galley. Only three small lanterns lit the dark room. No raucous music played, no one danced or cheered or celebrated. She could hear only a few murmurs from the small number of patrons. It was as if someone had died. She supposed it was because the hour was too early.
She weaved her way past drunken seamen huddled at tables, and approached the bar. A short balding man stood behind the counter, cleaning flagons with a dirty rag. When she drew close, he made no indication that he noticed her. She waited and changed her weight to her other foot. She had decided not to order any mead, but she did need information.
She tried clearing her throat. The barman looked up at her and frowned. “What you want, boy?”
“Know where I can find a Madam Bruosh?”
The barman seemed surprised. He put down the tankard he’d been cleaning and examined her more closely. Jasmine lowered her eyes and studied the thick wood grain in the polished bar top. He suddenly burst out laughing.
Jasmine looked up in bewilderment.
“Madam Bruosh is more woman than you can handle, boy. Perhaps you’d prefer to start with something more attainable. Like… Kathryn here.” The barman indicated a short woman carrying a tray of ale to a table full of officers from the Seahawk.
Kathryn turned around. She didn’t look amused. “Screw you, Greld.”
The officers chuckled.
Greld coughed once and turned his attention back to Jasmine. “You’ll find her in the fifth house on the hill in Bayview Street. The white house,” he added in case she couldn’t count. “Take a left when you leave here.”
Jasmine mumbled her thanks and left the inn as fast as she could. Laughter erupted the moment she closed the door. She didn’t care what they thought. She could breathe again. Fresh sea air filled her lungs. She knew she’d feel even more at ease once she returned to the ship. Dry land always made her nervous. She didn’t belong here in port. The sooner she could finish her task for the captain, the better.
Jasmine found Bayview Street and ran up the cobbled hill. This seemed like a richer part of town. A single hawker on the corner sold expensive goods like perfumes and spices. The street seemed cleaner, the smell of dead fish less distinct. She wasn’t sure why it was called Bayview though since she’d lost sight of the water behind tall buildings crammed in together. A cool breeze blew through the street and sunlight warmed her back.
The fifth house on the hill was a tall two-story house with a balcony on the second floor and a tiny garden out front. It was a white house with dark wooden beams. The sunlight on the white walls made the house seem to glow. A lady and a gentleman sat on the second-floor balcony, drinking tea.
“I’m looking for Madam Bruosh,” Jasmine called up to the couple.
The lady leaned over the balcony and smiled down at her. “She’s inside. Go right in, love, the door’s open. Hope you have plenty of coin.” She giggled then and the gentleman slapped her on the butt. She cried out in delight and returned her attentions to her companion.
Jasmine glanced nervously at the dark opening of the house. The door was open and to anyone else it may have seemed inviting. She didn’t know what to expect from this Madam Bruosh. She sincerely hoped this wasn’t the captain’s way of turning one of his crew into a man.
Jasmine took a deep breath and entered the house. Rather than the cloying smells of men she’d encountered at the inn, she was instead greeted by the cloying smells of women. The heady perfume of roses pervaded the air. Velvet curtains shut out the real world and stopped the sunlight from invading this false sanctuary. From somewhere deeper in the house the soft music of a lute reached Jasmine’s ears. She supposed that was meant to relax visitors. For Jasmine it only made the place seem strange and alien.
“Welcome to my house, young man.”
Jasmine turned to see the most amazing woman she had ever seen. She was tall and slender and confident. She wore her dark glossy hair half up in a soft bun and allowed the other half to fall in long curls around her face. She wore a dress that accentuated her womanly figure. Her skin was like porcelain. Her lips were like cherries. But her eyes were like cold stones.
“I’m looking for Madam Bruosh.” Jasmine almost stuttered her words and she immediately felt foolish.
“I am Madam Bruosh.”
“I’m pleased to meet you.” Again she felt foolish but there was something about the woman that demanded respect.
A thin smile curved one corner of the woman’s mouth. “You seem a little…young for my services.”
“Oh, no, ma’am,” Jasmine stammered again. “I’m just a messenger from Captain Kahld of the Wielder’s Prize.”
“Kahld sent you.” Something flashed in her eyes.
“He wanted me to give you this.” She handed the woman the parchment and the pouch.
Madam Bruosh glanced over the parchment and tossed it to a side table. She then opened the pouch. Her long fingers worked the strings with ease. She emptied the contents into her palm. Five gold coins glimmered there along with another smaller parchment.
Jasmine gasped. She’d never seen so much wealth in one place. She couldn’t begin to imagine why the captain had trusted her with this obviously important task. She couldn’t even imagine why he was giving this strange woman such a fortune.
“You were not aware of what was in the pouch then, boy?” The madam seemed amused but not really surprised. “Let’s see what the good captain has to say for himself, shall we?”
The contempt in her voice was clear and left Jasmine to wonder what history she had with the captain. The woman unfolded the parchment and held it up to the light. Her expression changed to suspicion, then shock. Jasmine wished she’d opened the pouch and read the note so she could understand all the emotions that ran over the madam’s expression.
Madam Bruosh looked from the note to Jasmine and back to the note. The coldness in her eyes returned. “Come with me,” she ordered as a commander would order her fleet. She swept out of the room and didn’t wait to see if Jasmine followed.
A terrible sense of danger filled Jasmine’s thoughts. She wanted to flee. She needed to flee. Looking longingly over her shoulder at the door, she saw no escape. The captain expected a response. She couldn’t make something up. That would likely get her flogged if he found out. Jasmine followed Madam Bruosh deeper into the house.
The Madam opened a door at the end of a corridor and entered a room. Once they were both inside, she closed the door and locked it. A shaft of sunlight angled into the room from the large window. It was a curious thing that just the sight of the sun eased Jasmine.
A large four poster bed filled much of the room. Red drapes hung from the posts. Thick cushions lay scattered over the covers. Someone had turned down a corner of the thick quilt. A flutter of panic seized Jasmine’s heart.
The madam rushed to the window and closed the curtains. The room plunged into darkness and Jasmine’s panic mounted. The madam lit a candle on the bedside table and sat down on the bed. Jasmine stayed by the door.
“Come,” the madam said. “Sit by me.”
The need to escape kept her rooted to the floor.
“Obey me, child.” The hard edge to the madam’s voice could not be ignored. Jasmine sat down on the soft mattress and tried to shrink in on herself. She should have run when she could. Flogging seemed preferable to this. She sensed the madam’s scrutiny. Perhaps she was amused at this cabin boy who was clearly out of his depth.
“Why do you think the captain sent you?”
Jasmine shrugged.
“Why do you think the captain sent you to me in this state: beaten, filthy, no shoes?”
Jasmine sud
denly felt conscious of her appearance in a way that mattered more than the need to appear as a boy. She felt oddly ashamed.
“How much do you know?” The madam enquired.
Jasmine offered her a blank expression.
“Do you know who I am?”
Another blank expression.
A shadow of pain passed across her expression then disappeared. “Perhaps that is for the best.”
Madam Bruosh seemed to make up her mind about something. “Before we get to the matter of things, I want you to take a bath. You smell like old fruit left in the sun.”
A fresh wave of panic seized Jasmine.
“Don’t worry, dear. It’s on the house. Stay here while I organize to have the tub filled.” The madam left the room. Only then did Jasmine notice a round tub sitting in the corner of the room. It was big enough to fit two people.
Jasmine wondered how she could escape. It seemed impossible. Her whole situation seemed ludicrous. She considered hiding but knew that wouldn’t help her so she sat on the edge of the bed as if she were a prisoner waiting to go to the gallows.
Three women dressed as maids entered the room and began filling the tub with hot water from buckets. They glanced shyly at Jasmine, and as they left they giggled. Jasmine stayed seated on the edge of the bed. She tried to hide her terror but it was clear from the giggles that she had failed.
On the fourth visit with buckets, the madam returned. She carried with her a small bottle of what looked like oil. She poured a few drops into the water. The fresh scent of roses filled the air. Jasmine screwed up her nose. The maids entered one last time and emptied their buckets into the tub. A thick layer of scented bubbles formed on the water.
After they left, the madam locked the door again. “Well? Go ahead.”
Jasmine’s good eye widened. She might have resembled a startled woodland animal. Madam Bruosh laughed. It was a hearty laugh that spoke of friendlier times. “A little shy are we? Very well, I’ll turn around until you get in.”
True to her word she turned around. Knowing there was no way out, Jasmine ran to the tub and threw off her clothes. In one smooth motion, she climbed into the tub. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she tried to shrink as small as possible. She couldn’t seem to be small enough even though the bubbles covered her shoulders. She was too nervous to enjoy the feel of full immersion in warm soapy water.
Jasmine opened her mouth to tell the woman it was safe to turn around again, but she closed it when she realized the madam was already gazing at her. When had she turned around? Had she seen her climb in? Had she discovered her secret? Jasmine couldn’t read the expression in the woman’s dark eyes.
Madam Bruosh pulled up a chair next to the tub and made herself comfortable. She made no reaction and gave no comment to indicate she’d seen anything untoward.
“What do they call you?”
“Midge.”
“They named you after a sand fly?” The madam snorted in disgust. “Typical men.” She reached for a long-handled brush and threw it into the tub. “Use that to scrub off some of the dirt.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She had to fish for it, so she ducked under the water. When she came up for air she felt a sense of peace begin to creep into her bones. She never thought bathing could be such a delight. It was almost like swimming in the warm waters around the Papaii Islands.
“And don’t forget to wash behind your ears.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And your face. Don’t forget your face. Use this.” The madam handed her a soft cloth.
Jasmine gingerly washed her face around her bruises and her swollen cheek.
“Much better. Shame about the hair, but I guess that’s necessary on a ship.”
Jasmine nodded. “My father says it’s to keep the lice away.”
“Your father?”
“He’s the ship’s cook.”
“Your father is the cook?”
“I’m apprenticed to him.” Something had flashed in the madam’s eyes. “Do you know him?”
“If you mean big Brusan, then yes.”
Jasmine smiled. “Aye, that’s him.”
“I didn’t realize he was still in Kahld’s service. Is he the one who beats you?”
Jasmine nodded. “Only when I deserve it.” She hoped the madam didn’t hear the lie.
Some silence passed between them while Jasmine soaked until Madam Bruosh spoke again. “I have a question for you, young Midge.”
Jasmine hurriedly thought up a story that would explain why she deserved the beatings.
“If you could live anywhere in the whole world where would it be?”
Jasmine took a moment to rethink her answer. “On the sea,” she replied.
“Is that because that’s all you’ve ever known?”
“Maybe.” Then she thought about it longer. “But I don’t think so. The sea speaks to me. It tells me its moods and whispers songs in my ears. I feel right when the waves are beneath my feet, when the sea spray is in my face.”
“You sound like your father.”
“Cook talks that way about the sea?” She’d never heard her father get passionate about anything but his mead.
“Yes,” the madam replied.
Jasmine had heard a moment of hesitation and recognized a lie. Why would Madam Bruosh lie about such a thing?
“How well did you know my father?”
“I’ll be honest with you, child. I don’t know Cook Brusan well. I do remember he was loyal to his captain. You are lucky to have him as a father.” She frowned then. “I guess you could have done worse.”
Jasmine felt a need to hide her bruising and quickly ducked under the water. She wasn’t sure if she agreed with the madam. She hated her father for all the beatings. She hated him for being a cook. But she had to be grateful to him for raising her on his own. He could have abandoned her but he didn’t. He made it possible for her to live on the sea.
A sudden need to return to the ship almost overcame her. Perhaps sensing the change of mood, the madam handed her a towel. “Dry yourself off while I fetch you a hot meal.”
By the time the madam came back, Jasmine was dry and dressed and very much ready to return to the Prize.
The woman placed a tray of food on a side table and straightened. Jasmine could smell fresh bread and a warm stew. Madam Bruosh sighed. “You aren’t going to eat this, are you?”
“I need to get back to the ship.”
“Very well. At least take the bread roll with you. It’s still warm from the oven.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“Also thank the captain for me. I will be keeping the coins. However, the answer to his question is this: ‘Nice try, but no.’ I want you to tell him in those exact words.”
“Nice try, but no.”
“Very good.” A thought seemed to cross Madam Bruosh’s mind. “If your ship ever returns to port I want you to know there will always be a bath and a warm meal for you here. On the house.”
Jasmine thought that was an odd gift for the woman to offer but she wasn’t about to argue. She’d been converted to baths and the thought of one waiting for her in port made it worth coming to dry land.
She didn’t know when, or even if, she’d get the opportunity again.
Chapter 3
Feeling refreshed and invigorated, Jasmine left the white house on the hill. She bit into the warm bread roll and whistled a seafarer’s tune as she stepped out onto the street again.
“Have fun with the madam?”
Jasmine looked up from her reverie and noticed two bearded sailors come into step with her. The one who had asked her the question was blond and walked on her left. The other walked on her right. He had dark hair and sported a scar that ran from the corner of his eye to the middle of his cheek.
Jasmine smiled a nervous greeting, unsure of their intentions. “Aren’t you from the Seahawk?”
The two men exchanged
a look. “Aye,” Blondie replied.
“She’s a fine ship.”
“Aye, that she is.”
It was still midmorning and not many people were out in that part of town. A fresh sense of danger rang in Jasmine’s ears. She gave them a fake laugh. “The madam took all my coin, but it was worth it.”
“We aren’t after yer coin, lad.” It was the man with the scar who spoke. He leaned in close to her and whispered, “We’re after something else.”
With one swift motion, Jasmine elbowed the man in the face. She had no idea what they wanted but she wasn’t going to wait around to find out. She danced away from Blondie’s grasp and dashed down the hill.
Jasmine was a fast runner, even with bare feet, but in her panic she didn’t see the third man at the bottom of the hill. He caught her around the waist and threw her to the ground. The impact knocked the air from her lungs. His heavy hands held her down. She tried to wiggle free. She punched out with her fist and caught the man’s jaw. In his moment of pain, Jasmine rolled to her feet and drew her knife.
“I see you found our feisty one, Roberts,” said Blondie as he approached.
Roberts rubbed his stubbled jaw then drew his own dagger. It was a lot bigger than hers. “He looks like too much trouble.”
“Bag him, let him go, or kill him?”
The man with the scar joined them. His nose was bleeding. “Kill ’im.”
Jasmine backed away. The opening to a narrow alleyway gaped behind her. If she’d been thinking like a smart person, she would’ve run for the most populated area: the wharf. But she wasn’t and so she didn’t.
The three men herded her into the dark opening. She couldn’t get around them and they made sure she didn’t flee.
The sun disappeared behind a cloud. Gloom replaced the brightness in one sweep as if a veil had come over the world. Jasmine was out of options. Life on the Wielder’s Prize had taught her enough to fight, but not against three opponents. She spun around and ran. She ran down the dark alley as if she’d lived in Port Lemos her entire life. She bolted to the left down a narrower passage. She leapt over discarded crates, passed a rat’s nest, danced over rusted nails and splintered planks. Nothing touched her. Nothing slowed her.
