by Alex Aster
Engle’s mouth hung open.
Melda didn’t look as impressed. “How did you find us here?”
The pirate scratched at the back of his head. “No thank ye for saving yer lives? Suppose we deserve that.” He sighed. “Had terrible luck in Tortuga Bay… Lost every gamble we made, every fight we started, every dobble we stole…” He looked pensive. “Began to realize double-crossing ye after ye freed us did something terrible to our karma.” The pirate shrugged. “So we’re here to make amends.”
Melda raised an eyebrow at him. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Started asking around for the pearl, heard some chatter about dealings in Perla. We figured it was here, and that the compass would lead ye to the City of Seekers. So we waited. And followed ye from the harbor. In case ye needed us.”
Engle had mentioned feeling like someone was following them. The pirate must have been well hidden for Engle not to have spotted him.
Captain Forecastle nodded toward the three piles of ash. “Dangerous enemies ye’ve made.”
Vesper shook her head. “So they have it, don’t they? The compass led us here. Right where they were.”
Tor blinked against a sudden flash of nausea. If the traitor, the captain, and the spectrals had the pearl, then Estrelle’s fate was already sealed. They could destroy the town in minutes with its power.
His family—
“Not necessarily,” Captain Forecastle said. “According to chatter, the Calavera captain, that silver-faired fellow, and spectrals have been all over the city, searching. They’ve been gathering information from merchants, pirates…even assassins. Don’t think they’ve found it yet.”
Vesper shook her head. “But the compass—”
“The compass is a fickle thing that will double-cross ye in an attempt to get wherever it wants to go…” he said. “Trust us, we know. If ye lose yer focus on what ye’ve lost for even a moment, it will pull ye in its own direction…”
Melda shot a scathing look at Vesper, but didn’t say anything, and Tor was grateful for that.
Still, Vesper’s mistake had almost cost them everything. The spectrals had appeared in moments, though none of them had been the one he had seen on the Calavera ship. No, that one was larger than the others, more powerful…
Why wasn’t the larger spectral with them? What deal had the Calavera captain and traitor made with it?
If the Swordscale traitor and Calavera captain were in Perla, it could be close by. Tor remembered mention of the spectrals in the Book of Seas. If the more powerful of them could do half of the things the story described—
“We need to leave. Now,” Tor said.
Captain Forecastle nodded, eyes darting to the surrounding rooftops. “Good idea.”
They hurried out of the alley, Captain Forecastle at the front, his arm long in front of him, ready to shoot an enemy with an endless supply of arrows. It was dark now, and Galaway Lane seemed to be waking up. Shop doors were propped open, and seedy characters stood outside. Men and women wore hats covered in cobwebs, black diamonds, ice, smoke, bones, and even snakes. Women who wore dark gloves to their elbows laughed wickedly as they approached, their voices high-pitched like the creak of a closing door.
Tor sighed in relief when they stumbled onto the main road. Wealthy Perlas regarded them haughtily, dressed in their evening best. Some wore gowns with gems woven right into the fabric. They were walking toward the docks in droves.
At the front, Melda tried to squeeze through, but the crowd was too thick, and they got pushed to its edge, against a row of town houses. Tor turned in all directions, searching for a flash of purple. More spectrals could appear anywhere. Or the Calavera captain, with his long sword at his side. A captain famed for bloodshed… Nowhere was safe.
Captain Forecastle cursed as a spectral appeared at the outskirts of the crowd, searching it intently.
Tor opened his mouth, just as a hand covered it.
“Don’t move if you want to live,” a voice said into his ear, before he was dragged through a door.
He had been pulled into a townhouse foyer. Melda, Engle, Captain Forecastle, and Vesper stumbled in behind him. The door slammed shut. Through a gap in the window shutter, Tor saw a spectral pass by, hood covering most of its head, looking for them.
“I take thank-you payments in dobbles, gold, and chocolate,” a voice said. The same one that had just spoken into his ear.
A young woman stood before them. She wore an impressive three-tiered pink hat—three bows stacked atop one another—and a white dress with a ribbon at the waist that was puffed out at the bottom like one of Tor’s father’s soufflés.
She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Not what you expected? I know the dress is a bit over the top… It’s a pain trying to fit in, in a place like Perla.”
In a quick movement, she untied the ribbon at her waist, and the bottom half of the dress snapped off, revealing a much more practical pair of pants and boots. She kicked the skirt away with disdain.
“Now, then.” She smiled widely. “Nice to meet you. I’m Violet, and I’m an assassin.”
The Sundrop Salmon
The sun cried, just once. And its first and only tear formed a fish that fell from the sky. It landed in the sea and had golden scales, each more glittering than the last. It blinded the other fish as it passed, its radiance never before seen.
The other fish, consumed with jealousy, formed a plan to take all of the sundrop salmon’s scales that night, so that it would be dull, like them. While the golden salmon slept, the first fish went to pry off one of its scales—
And fell dead. The would-be stolen scale turned silver. And none of the other fish approached the salmon again.
It is said that this scale is enchanted. Gifted by the moon, who protected the sun’s fish. For the attack happened at night, while the sun slept. The moon’s scale amplified the fish’s innate ability to stun other fish, protecting it from danger.
And some say that if wielded by an Emblemite, it would magnify their abilities, too.
To this day, the golden fish swims, known to trail pirate ships, chasing treasure that shines as brightly as its creator.
13
Violet, the Assassin
Tor heard Engle gulp behind him. Melda said, “Excuse me, what?”
Captain Forecastle laughed. “Should’ve known by the hair clip,” he said. “Which house?”
Violet beamed. “Crimson.”
He nodded, then bowed. “An honor, then.”
She bowed her head back at him.
“Do you have the slightest idea what’s happening?” Tor heard Vesper ask Engle.
He shook his head. “Not a crumb of a clue.”
The pirate turned. “There are five houses of assassins, ye see, each with their own code. Rules, if ye would. We pirates intersect with them quite a bit.”
“And what code does the Crimson house follow?” Melda asked.
Violet motioned for them to follow her farther inside, and, as she casually strode down the hallway, she pulled an impressive amount of weapons from her person. A dagger from her chest, three knives disguised as pins from her hair, a full sword from between her shoulder blades. Along with many other trinkets Tor didn’t recognize, undoubtedly enchanted to be lethal.
She led them to a large sitting room with a cozy couch, fluffy pillows, and thick blankets strewn about.
Violet slumped into a chair with a groan, kicking up her feet onto the marble coffee table. “What a day,” she said, shaking her head. She ran a hand through her long brown hair, then said, “Oh, missed one!” before pulling a three-inch-long knife, disguised as a hair clip, from behind her ear. She dropped it onto the table with a clatter. “Now, then, what’s your name?”
She was looking at Melda, who blinked. “Grimelda Alexander. Melda, for short.”
&nb
sp; Violet smiled. “Well, Melda, House Crimson has very simple rules. Never kill for pleasure, never kill the innocent, and never miss a target.” She shrugged. “That’s it.”
Vesper tilted her head at her, an eyebrow raised. “And who determines who is innocent?”
“Good question. I do, of course. I only kill the despicably dreadful.” She picked at a piece of lint on her top. “In a city as corrupt as this one, it’s one of the only ways to get them to stop hurting innocents.”
“Corrupt?” Melda’s forehead was a folded up fan of lines. “Who is corrupt?”
“All of them, I’m afraid.” Violet leaned in. “I’ve gotten assignments from housewives, lawmakers, aristocrats…even children, if you can believe it.” She saw Engle’s expression and shook her head. “I don’t take them, of course.” She squinted. “Well, not all of them.”
“How does one become an assassin?” Tor asked, curious. He had never really heard it thrown around as a job prospect.
She smiled, revealing a row of dazzling white teeth. “You get exceptionally good at killing.”
Tor leaned back on the couch, and the assassin laughed. She smacked her lips together, resting her chin on her hand. “It’s lonely though,” she said wistfully. “Hard having friends, in my line of work, can make things…complicated. Especially when you have an enemy, and they try to use your loved ones as bait.” She shook her head. “Can get quite messy.” She rubbed her palms together, and Tor saw that she had an extremely long lifeline, a fact that must have put her at ease in her profession. “Anyway. Should we discuss the bounty on your heads?”
Tor froze. Had they walked directly into a lion’s den? Was she just as bad as the man with the fire-brimmed hat?
Violet raised her eyebrows. “Oh, I’m not trying to collect it,” she said, lowering her head. “I suppose I never made that clear.” She tapped at her bottom lip. “All of Galaway has been looking for you. Which means you and I might just be on the same side.”
Tor swallowed. The Calavera captain, the spectral, and the traitor must really have wanted them dead if they had gone so far as to put a bounty on their heads.
“And what side is that?” Tor asked.
Violet frowned. “Spectrals have been in and out of this city more times in the last month than the last ten years. They’re planning something, and I want to stop it.”
Engle looked suspicious. “Why?”
“I have my reasons, sightseer,” she said, spotting his emblem. “On one assignment, I lived on a ship among pirates. And heard plenty about the Calavera. That captain must be stopped. With the pearl, he would ruin all that is good on Emblem Island. Including all of the places I’ve made my home.” She swallowed. “But, more importantly, an enemy of the spectrals is a friend of mine.”
Captain Forecastle said, “Thank ye for opening yer door to us.”
Violet whipped to look at Melda and said, “Don’t you know it’s impolite to stare?”
She reddened. “It’s just…that marking, on your wrist.”
Tor saw it. A band of silver, like a smear of melted moonlight. He had seen some just like it before.
She grinned. “I trained with the giantesses, until adulthood,” she said. “This is just one of the bands I earned there.”
Melda brightened.
Engle rolled his eyes. “Here we go…”
“We visited them, quite recently! Do you know Valentina?”
Violet nodded. “Of course! She’s a good friend.”
“She taught me to use a sword! Just for a few minutes, but I was very surprised by its weight…”
Melda continued to speak to Violet about the giantesses, and Tor found another marking on the assassin. This one, an emblem. He could have thought of a dozen different abilities that would best serve a killer, but this was certainly not one of them.
“You’re an aniboca,” he said, interrupting one of Melda’s many stories. Melda glared at him. “You can talk to animals.”
Vesper raised an eyebrow. “Is that useful in your…profession?”
Violet swept her long hair back in a single motion. “Well, it helped me find you lot, didn’t it?”
Tor frowned. “It did?”
Violet whistled, and a small bird came flying through the house. A blue and gray lark. It landed on her shoulder. “She told me Crowmus was on the prowl. He’s the one with the fire on his hat.” She rolled her brown eyes. “It looks ridiculous, doesn’t it?”
“So they’re your spies?” Vesper asked.
“Much more than that. But, sure—they’re my eyes and ears in this city and beyond,” she winked at them. “Now, enough shoptalk. Is anyone hungry?”
Tor hadn’t eaten since before he had died, he realized, with a hollow pang in his stomach. Engle—who had surely eaten some of Vesper’s sea snacks just hours before—answered with an enthusiastic yes.
“Perfect! I don’t cook—I deal with enough knives on the job, if you know what I mean—but I’ll grab something from across the street. There’s this lovely little restaurant; the chefs are from Zura and brought all sorts of spices over. I’ll get a variety.” With a final smile, Violet walked to the foyer, tied back on the bottom of her dress, and strode out the door into the town square, which was crowded, but not nearly as much so as before.
Melda shrugged. “She seems nice.”
Engle gaped at her. “She’s an assassin!”
The lark had been left behind and squawked angrily at Engle.
“What?” he said to it. “It’s true!”
“Stop it,” Melda said.
Engle scoffed. “You only like her because she trained with your beloved giantesses!”
In fact, Melda had never taken off the ring the giantesses had given to her, as a token to remember to be strong. She twirled it around her finger as she huffed, then leaned back on Violet’s exceptionally comfortable couch.
Vesper shrugged. “I think she’s the fish’s scales.”
Engle turned to her and blinked. Tor figured it was some sort of Swordscale compliment.
Captain Forecastle made himself comfortable on the couch and wriggled his toes in his boots. “Wouldn’t believe the places we stayed, when ye left us at Tortuga Bay.” He looked around. “Now this is luxurious.”
Engle scoffed. “I suppose killing is a profitable business.”
Melda glared at the pirate. “Don’t you dare try to steal anything.”
Captain Forecastle laughed. “Steal from an assassin? Have ye lost yer head? Wouldn’t dream of it.” The lark squawked at him loudly, and he sighed, then pulled a ruby-hilted dagger from his pocket—a dagger that surely hadn’t been there before they had entered the house. He placed it on the table, and lifted his hands in silent surrender. “All right, all right.”
Soon, Violet arrived, juggling three baskets of food in her hands, along with a large box of Perla chocolates.
They ate dinner in her dining room—garlic roasted potatoes, buttered fried dough, mushroom soup, fresh salmon covered in an array of colorful spices, steamed vegetables Tor had never tasted before—until the chatter of the streets died down.
After much prodding from Melda and Vesper, Violet explained how her job as an assassin worked. Through the sliver in her door she would receive a white letter with a red seal. If she refused the job, no further action was necessary. If she accepted, she wore long red gloves to the market the next day, where someone would be watching.
Acceptance by mail was risky, she said. Clothing choices could hardly be used as evidence in court.
Upon acceptance, detailed instructions would be placed within the wrapping of a fish she purchased.
Then, it was up to her to deliver.
“And what are the other assassin groups?” Melda asked. “What are their principles?”
Violet pursed her lips. “We’re each nam
ed after a shade of red. There’s Crimson, of course. Then Garnet, Ruby, Scarlet, and Vermillion.” Violet frowned. “Let’s just say, the only thing we have in common with the others is the killing. Our methods, reasons, and morals…differ greatly.”
Captain Forecastle nearly choked on the ale Violet had found him. “That’s one way to say it,” he said, sputtering drink as he laughed.
Violet suddenly turned to Vesper and tilted her head. “What is it?” she asked.
Vesper only blinked.
“I’ve been trained to study body language very carefully. You have a question. Ask it.”
Vesper pressed her lips together. She looked unwilling to speak, and moments ticked by. But Violet was patient, waiting until she said, “Your emblem. It has nothing to do with killing. How did you end up an assassin? How was it even an option for you?”
Violet sat back. “Ah.” She pursed her lips. “I hate fate and destiny and everything predetermined. My emblem isn’t the best for an assassin, but I made it work for me. I evolved.” She shrugged. “Any emblem’s use can be reimagined for nearly any role. What’s yours?”
“I’m a magnificate,” she said. And Tor was surprised she didn’t say waterbreather.
Violet snapped. “Fantastic! Much of my job is about disguising myself and certain objects I don’t want discovered.” She thrummed her fingers on the table, her nails painted deep red. “If I had your ability, I would not just do the obvious, which would be disguising things by making them very small. No, I would hide them in plain sight. Make them so unusually large, make them look like something else entirely, that no one would think to look twice.” She blew air roughly through her mouth, thinking. “And if I was in a fight, I wouldn’t do what they might anticipate, which would be to make myself small or large. I would change my enemies’ size. Because they wouldn’t be expecting it.” Violet shrugged. “You see, in my line of work, there are some that can shield against an emblem’s power and others who can sense things that one is trying to hide, so the element of surprise is invaluable.”
