by Pete Draper
“I’ve never sin anyone so good. Yous gave five Rockland frigates the slip, savin’ me when others had left me beyind. I’ve never sin anytin’ so… majestic.”
“You are too kind Donal.” Carilyo chinked glasses with him, “Cheers.”
Donal clicked the glass harder than Carilyo expected, the ringing drone stung Carilyo’s eardrum. “Or as they say on the mainland. Skal.”
“Skal.” Hiding the frustration of repeated glass tapping, Carilyo clinked glasses for a third time before taking a gulp.
“Anyway,” Donal said. With a hushed voice, he scanned the pub, “There’s a job goin’ if yous wan’ it.”
“You have my attention.” Carilyo’s eyes turned sharply, he leaned in close.
Donal’s bushy eyebrows narrowed. “It’s a dangerous job. Too dangerous for the likes of me.”
Brightness returned to Carilyo’s vision, the second glass of lager working its magic. The dullness was overtaken by the brighter brown and orange, the room had a lively feel, despite the smoke. “Have you ever seen me shy away from danger?” Carilyo whispered, his mouth moved into its most confident grin.
“Can’t say I have.” Donal took another drink, burping again. “My contact Ricard will meet yous on the docks. I’ll let him know yousa’ comin’. It’s a shipment to the New Woruld.”
“New World eh? I haven’t ventured further west than Levac. That’s a long journey, how is the pay?”
“Better than any job yous’ve ever had before like.” Donal’s whispering pierced the air like a needle, “Five sestas.” His eyes widened when he nodded just once.
Despite the smoke, Carilyo’s eyes widened. “Five ses-” he forgot to whisper. Donal sharply pressed a finger to his lips.
“Five sestas?” Carilyo whispered to himself, “Three hundred setags?”
Carilyo stared at the sect coin in his hand, sixty of those made a setag, sixty setags in a sesta. He tried to multiply three hundred by sixty in his alcohol-filled head, the only numbers that returned contained a lot of zeroes. “I’d never have to work again. I could buy Cassi’s share of papa’s ship, and leave her on land somewhere. Me and Cassi could finally be free of each other.”
He’d never have to smell her perfume ever again, or look into those hateful eyes. A beaming smile filled Carilyo’s face.
“Say, how is that sister of yours?”
The wishbone ring dug into her index finger, Cassi twisted it slightly, admiring the sapphires against the white gold behind. Her leather satchel lay over one thigh, her papa’s sword rested on the other; she could never sit comfortably with it on.
Cassi sipped red wine from the wide glass. Her eyes were fixated on the dusty rug in front of her. Despite having dozens of slaves, Torros’ office was filthy.
“You know, when you are ready to settle down…” Torros wiped sweat from his smooth brow, his rubbery skin had no wrinkles. “I can provide for you; you would make an excellent wife.”
Cassi nearly choked on her wine. “Thanks for the kind proposal, but I can provide for myself.” Besides, I don’t desire to be somebody’s wife. Especially not yours.
“Too bad.” Torros looked at the docks below. His office was three stories up in his warehouse building, one door led to the stone steps straight outside, the other down into the storage below. He sat behind a desk so small his legs barely fit under it. Cassi was seated on the sofa opposite, the rings on her fingers clicking against the glass in her hand. A couple of other chairs and a rug which was once white decorated the room, along with the steel safe in the corner.
A blonde Levacian girl walked in, filling Torros’ glass. She offered Cassi some more, but Cassi gave a shake of the head.
“You would never have to work again.” Torros eyed the girl’s backside when she left the room. “I have plenty of slaves for that.” Leaning back in his chair, his cheeks raised into a smug smile as though Cassi might be swayed by his status.
The deep pores in his nose and cheeks were visible from across the room. Her stomach churned at the thought of him on top of her, groping her with those fat little fingers. A cold feeling made her shoulders shift uncomfortably, thinking about those pale eyes being close to her, his slimy lips kissing hers.
Cassi’s eyes shifted from the bird’s nest of hair on Torros’ head to the blonde slave who re-entered with a bowl of olives, which were dumped on the desk in front of Torros. The thought of freeing her crossed Cassi’s mind, but Torros was too important a contact. Besides, freeing slaves was a losing battle, Cassi knew that as well as anyone.
“You know, my father was not fond of slave owners,” Cassi said after the girl left.
She sipped the wine, it tasted bitter. It was cheap, old, or both. Torros always had been a cheapskate. She tried to avoid wrinkling her nose at the fusty smell of feet that filled the room. Despite both doors being open, it was unbearably hot.
“Ah, Gianlo D’Silva.” Torros enunciated the name, a reminiscent glow lit his eyes, he rested the back of his head on his palm, showing his hairy arms. “Oh, he was a tough man. Tough, but…erm… fair.” Torros waggled his index finger the way her father used to. “I always admired him; we had an…erm… an understanding.”
“Indeed.” The understanding that he’d only deal with you if you kept your mouth shut.
“If he was alive, I’m sure he would… erm, approve of our marriage.” Torros tossed a handful of olives into his fat mouth.
“Perhaps.” Cassi’s face painfully lifted into a fake smile. He’d slam your head on the desk for suggesting it.
“Did you hear?” Torros spoke with his mouth full, wiping his sticky lips with the back of his hand.
“Hear what?” Cassi’s voice showed the faintest hint of impatience.
Torros gulped the olives down his throat. “King Persis’ crown jewels were stolen from the palace, nobody has a clue where they went. His niece Della disappeared around the same time. Rumour is, she stole them.”
“I didn’t know that.” Cassi’s irritated eyes turned to the wall, its flaky paint was cracked and chipped. Too bad he didn’t use his slaves to clean and maintain the place. “We should get down to business.”
She attempted a final sip of the foul wine, before placing it on the coffee table. Cassi caught Torros’ eyes looking down her silk shirt. With one hand, she did up an extra button.
“Yes, yes.” Torros slowly took the hint, his daydreaming eyes rose.
“Five setags for the silk, three for the spices. As agreed,” Cassi demanded with a sharp wave.
“Three sixties for some cha-cha cloves? Please.” Torros waved his hands forwards, extenuating his flabby shoulders.
“Three setags is what we agreed,” Cassi’s voice slashed through the air; her firm eyes considered him. She smirked to herself when Torros’ eyes trembled away from her stare. “You’ve always been a man of your word.” She leaned back comfortably. Cassi always knew when she had a man in the palm of her hand.
“That was before we got the news of Empress Whore-ria abolishing slavery in Lezollo. Now Levac is slave-free.” Torros’ sticky hands fumbled with more olives; his eyes narrowed at one as it slipped.
“Empress Auria is a great ruler, much better than that brother of hers.”
“I think not,” Torros spat. “Since she abolished slavery, the price of Levacian slaves has trebled. The one downstairs cost me a setag and a half, she is not worth any more than three-quarters.”
Cassi hid the disgust from her face. To place a price on someone’s life, to own a person, the thought made her stomach uneasy.
“That’s not my problem. Why are we talking in fractions when we agreed on whole setags?” Cassi stared at Torros’ flat eyebrows. Her face and body didn’t move an inch, she had no tell.
“I’ll give you four and a fifth for the silks, one and three quarters for the spices.”
Cassi totted it up in her head. “Five setags; eleven twelfths and three sects? For a dangerous trip to Araxia. I don’t think so. Pay
what we agreed, or I go elsewhere.”
“Fine.” Torros shrugged, but the sweat forming on his wrinkled brow gave him away.
“Fine,” Cassi said. The glass tapped on the table as she stood.
Torros thumped the table with his palm, sending dust swirling throughout the room. “Cassi, wait. I’ll give you… erm… six and a half.”
“A little better, but I’m sure Carlos will offer more.” Cassi’s smile turned crooked. She waggled her finger, the emerald on the middle one glowed ruthlessly. Cassi performed a fake sigh, “I’m sorry it has come to this; we have done business for a long time.”
“Carlos will not offer more than that…” Torros’ face shrank. “And he doesn’t have the distribution.”
Cassi’s eyebrow raised. “Would you like to test that proposal out? I have the goods, and all the time in the Merged Seas to find someone who will take them off my hands. I didn’t travel all the way to the south of the Arrizean, to deal with those sweaty, foul-smelling Araxians just to be ripped off upon my return.”
“Alright, alright.” Torros stood, his eyes straining to guess what number Cassi would drop to. “Erm, seven setags.”
“Pah. You would not have treated my father like this.” Cassi turned, smirking to herself, she wrapped the sword belt around her waist, sliding the red leather through the gold buckle.
“Seven and a third,” Torros’ voice was desperate.
Cassi grabbed the door, feeling the hinges groan in desperation.
“Seven and a half.” Torros ran around the table. Maybe he’d get on his knees and grovel next. That would be a sight.
“Deal,” Cassi said, turning to face him. The desperation on his face was delightful.
“You drive a hard bargain Cassi D’Silva.” Torros knelt to open the safe, counting the notes and coins.
“You are paying less than we agreed Torros, don’t complain. While you’re there, I’ll take four setag notes and the rest in coins.”
It was commonplace in Traki to agree on a price, then have to renegotiate after the work had been completed. For that reason, Cassi always agreed a higher price than she wanted. “And don’t think about short-changing me. I know how to count, better than you do.”
“Don’t spend it all at once.” Torros clapped the money into Cassi’s outstretched hand.
The sparkling jewels and expensive clothes were a dead giveaway, as was the heavy scent of perfume and the gold buckles on her corset. Carilyo spotted his sister returning to the Howling Dragon.
“Great news.” Carilyo bounced around, drunk as ever. A few heads turned; he must have spoken louder than anticipated.
“How are you so drunk? I only gave you two sects.” Cassi’s eyes were so dark, what he could see behind the mascara anyway. Her silk shirt cast a shiny glow in the fading sun.
“Donal paid,” Carilyo said. “Anyway, great news-”
“Donal? That ejotto from Rockland? For fuck sake Carilyo, the last time I saw him we had to scurry away from Sholtorn like rats in the night.”
“That was a long time ago Cassi.” Carilyo tried to read her angry face, those eyes always reserved extra hate for her older brother. An excited smile crossed Carilyo’s cheeks, the cool evening air felt nice on his skin. Even the heavy smell of her perfume had worn off a little; in subtle doses, it wasn’t too bad. “Listen Cassi, we have a new job. We can leave tonight.”
The smooth corner of Cassi’s mouth raised. Her dark eyes showed disdain, yet the pupils had the slightest silver lining.
“Go and pay the crew Cassi. I’ll meet Donal’s contact and collect the cargo. I’ll return before you can recite C to the first twenty digits.”
“What is the cargo?” Cassi demanded. She stood to one side with a hand on her hip, in her classic ‘I shall not be moved’ pose. Carilyo knew it would be difficult.
“Don’t worry about it.” Carilyo’s eyes shifted nervously. He felt the unbearable scald of her intense stare, his skin burned with tingling nerves.
“Boop.” He tapped her nose with his finger, like he used to when she was little. He was met with her death stare, her cheeks tightened. His cute little sister was long gone.
“Do that again, and I’ll break your fucking face.”
Carilyo was grateful she didn’t punch him, it sure hurt when all those rings scraped against his skin.
When her face loosened, her freshly-waxed eyebrow raised with suspicion. “Don’t worry about it? It’s my ship as much as yours. What are we transporting and where?”
“We’re going to the New World. As for what, I can’t tell you. Just trust me Cassi.”
Cassi huffed. Her head turned towards the Tetrahedron, the edges still gleamed despite the dying sunlight. “How am I supposed to trust you when you won’t tell me everything?” She turned back with softened eyes, looking Carilyo up and down. Her foot shifted, it was rare for Cassi to cave in. Perhaps it was meant to be.
“I’ll tell you later, but first, where’s my share from the last job?”
Cassi reached into her bag and tossed him two setag notes, then stomped off to pay the crew.
Back in her chambers, Cassi removed the gold necklace, placing it gently on the stand above her chest of drawers. She admired the elegant pattern on it, as she did every time it was removed. Starting with the pinkie finger, each ring was slid off, then meticulously placed on the scarda stand which looked like a tree.
She stepped in front of the tall mirror, removing the makeup from her face. Without it, Cassi looked way too much like her mama. After undressing, she placed the silk clothes in the wardrobe, wedging them between the fur coat and other expensive garments which overloaded the rack. Inside the drawers were some thick pyjamas, which were much more comfortable.
Something creaked loudly.
It came from the stairs; Cassi had a good ear. Damned pyjamas, she couldn’t leave the room dressed how she was. She changed quickly, then ran out through the quarterdeck and down the steps. Carilyo was creeping out of the hatch from below. A sheepish look crossed his greasy face.
“What are you up to?” Cassi demanded, holding her shirt together, she hadn’t had time for the buttons.
“We’re ready to go.” Carilyo climbed the steps, his sandals clacked as he strolled to the wheel.
“Shouldn’t we wait for dawn? You never set off at night.” She hurried behind.
“Do all adventures have to start in the morning?” He attempted an uneasy laugh. “I’m too excited to wait for dawn, besides…” Carilyo rubbed his finger and thumb, as though he was counting notes. “Think of all the money. The quicker we set off, the quicker we get paid.”
Cassi eyed him suspiciously, whenever he made sense, he was up to something. “Very well. But you can steer, Barolos is asleep.”
“Of course,” Carilyo said. He placed a hand on the wheel, stroking the handle like it was his favourite pet. “I couldn’t wait to get back to my baby.”
Cassi headed back.
“Before you go to bed Cassi, do not go down to the cargo hold. The new cargo is in there, and I don’t want you to see it yet.”
“Who do you think you are to tell me where I can and can’t go on my own ship I’m going down there right now.” Cassi’s voice accelerated to the pace where only Carilyo could understand what she was saying. She tried to barge past him, but he placed a firm hand on her shoulder.
“I’m serious Cassi.” Carilyo’s eyes flared, just like her papa’s used to. “It’s for your own good.”
Cassi’s face contorted, she grunted loud, slamming the door.
You Only Get One
A milky white spiral melted into the blue, leaving behind the tiniest sugary specks. A deep glow lit the air, a pretty, misty barrier separated sea and sky. The sun’s rays exerted a glorious glow; each fold in the sea extenuated into a pale roll.
Carilyo sat up in his papa’s armchair at the back of the quarterdeck, trying to keep his skin from sticking to the hot leather. The warm air was more pleasant when h
e was slightly less hungover, or more drunk. Between those was the danger zone.
“Ugh, your feet are so gross, why do you insist on wearing those sandals?” Cassi turned her nose up at them. Her scornful face was more annoying than ever today; a few dunks in a bucket of water would be an improvement, if only to shut her mouth and wash that scowl off her face.
“I like to feel the air on them.” Carilyo looked down at his feet, waggling his toes. There’s nothing wrong with my feet.
“Please stop moving them, it’s making the smell worse.” Cassi wafted the air away from her face.
Carilyo slipped the sandals off. Closing his eyes, he savoured the fresh air on the line of skin where the cotton straps had been.
“You’re going to make me sick,” Cassi said.
“Be my guest; maybe you could wash your face while you’re at it.”
Just then, the breeze funnelled the foot-sweat right into Carilyo’s nose and mouth. He made the same scrunched up face his sister had, before stepping back into the sandals.
“We’re about an hour from Kataly,” Barolos announced from his steering position. His dense grey hair was unmoved by the wind. The sleeveless shirt was creased and crinkled. A tattoo of a ship covered his upper arm; it was simple, more of a silhouette of it, with sharp, black lines. A crooked peanut-shaped birthmark was dotted on the back of his other arm.
“Perfect. I love being back home,” said Carilyo, “I think I’ll take in some of the sights this time.” He imagined the olive trees in their crooked rows on the hills near Parpey, the clean turquoise shores around Sildeo, and the glorious white cliff faces either side of the bay. The capital, Puritudo was a magnificent city with tremendous architecture; Cathis’ buildings were perfectly built, but Puritudo’s were prettier. Nothing was more beautiful than Taricatto’s painting of Alissa of Altidore.
“Home,” Cassi snorted. She leaned on the parapet with her elbow and back. “We’ve never spent more than six months in that dog-hole of a country. I shouldn’t even call it a country. It belongs to Traki now, those weak Katalian leaders couldn’t even be bothered to stand up for themselves, they preferred money over identity.”
