by James Maxey
“Beyond the obvious, I don’t see the resemblance,” said Sorrow.
“Your scales are so smooth,” Cinnamon said. She was running her fingers along Sorrow’s hide so lightly that Sorrow hadn’t noticed until the girl pointed it out.
“It’s impolite to touch others without permission,” Sorrow said.
Cinnamon drew her hand back, looking hurt.
“They’re children,” said Slate. “It’s natural they’d be curious.”
“My scales are sharp,” said Sorrow. “She could injure herself.”
“You have to play with us!” said Poppy. “You can be a dragon, and Slate and I will be the knights that slay you!”
“I’m uncertain why I would find that entertaining.”
“It’s merely play,” said Slate.
Sorrow furrowed her brow. She hadn’t expected the dragon-slayer she’d allied herself with to play well with children. To possibly be a destroyer worthy of discussion in hell, Slate was proving to be unexpectedly... nice.
“Is something bothering you?” Slate asked.
“‘You’?” she said, noting the change in his grammar. “What happened to the thous and thees?”
“No one else speaks that way,” Slate said with a shrug. “I’ve adapted.”
Sorrow regretted wasting so much time below deck sulking. If Slate was a magical creation, it’s possible he was programmed to adopt the mannerisms of those surrounding him to better fit in. She should be the one shaping his personality rather than leaving him in the hands of children.
“If you need a sparring partner to hone your skills in combat, you shouldn’t battle these girls,” she said. “As it happens, I’ve spent much of my life avoiding hand to hand combat, but suspect that will be more difficult from now on. I can craft swords of unnatural sharpness. You can teach me to use them effectively.”
“It would be my honor,” he said, bowing toward her. “But I shall continue training Poppy, as she continues to teach me.”
“He’s forgotten a lot about being a knight,” said Poppy. “He didn’t remember the code.”
“The code?” Sorrow asked, thinking of the letter she couldn’t read.
“The Code of Knighthood,” said Slate. He straightened his spine and pulled back his shoulders, placing his hand over his heart. “A knight shall be brave, courteous, and kind, obedient to his king, a defender of his faith, and a champion to all men of virtue.”
Sorrow crossed her arms. “That might mean more if you could remember your king or your faith.”
“Aye,” he said, wistfully. “I mean, yes.”
“Even if he’s lost his memory, he’s still brave, courteous, and kind,” said Poppy. “You can see it in his eyes.”
Sorrow looked at his face. His dark eyes still reminded her of cold, hard stone. Despite his newly revealed gentleness, she could still see in his visage that Slate was a man capable of remorseless violence. Perhaps Poppy saw in his eyes only what she wished to see.
“I think his eyes are dreamy,” Bigsby chimed in. He gave Slate a dainty wave with his gloved hand.
Slate looked uncomfortable as he turned his back to the dwarf and said to Sorrow, “Let’s go below and examine your swords. If you wish advice on how best to use them, I should be familiar with your weapons.”
They headed down the stairs. Once they were out of sight of Bigsby, Slate whispered, “I’m told that the short, portly woman is a princess. But I’m beginning to suspect she may not even be female!”
Slate looked bewildered as Sorrow laughed so hard that tears came to her eyes. It was a relief, of sort, to discover she still had the capacity to find something funny. When she wiped the last of the tears from her cheeks and caught her breath, she realized her ribs were now sore. She had a lot of ribs.
HER RIBS CONTINUED to suffer abuse in the coming days as Slate made good on his promise to train her. Her strength and speed were better than ever, but he still had no trouble slipping past her best defenses and whacking her flanks with the flat of his wooden sparring sword. After nearly a week of training, she grew frustrated, and threw down her blades.
“I give up!” she said. “I don’t know why I thought I could do this.”
“You can do it,” he said. “You’ve learned a great deal in the last week. Once or twice you’ve actually turned my sword aside.”
“My ribs are black and blue. I thought that one of the virtues of a knight was to be kind. What’s kind about beating me to a pulp?”
“Do you enjoy pain?”
“No!”
“Then you definitely wouldn’t enjoy having a real sword cut into your flesh. I tap you just enough to provide you with an incentive not to get hit.”
“But the problem is that this isn’t real combat,” she said. “When I do engage in violence, I always strike to kill. I’ve never been in a fight that lasted more than thirty seconds. I can’t really attack you with the full force of my powers. I’ve no desire to hurt you.”
“Perhaps I need to hit you harder. You need not hold back against me.”
Sorrow clenched her fists, thinking of the entropic forces she’d managed to suppress so well for the last week. Her body hadn’t changed since she’d stopped using those powers. She said, “Let’s hope, for both our sakes, I continue to hold back.”
Before their conversation could go further, Sage shouted from the crows nest, “Ship!”
Sorrow rose to twice Slate’s height and scanned the surrounding sea. She saw no ship, but Sage’s abilities allowed her spot a ship many miles away.
“Where? How many?” Gale shouted from her position at the wheel.
“Only the one. Just beyond the horizon, dead ahead.”
“What flag do they fly?”
“The flag of King Brightmoon, but it’s probably a deception,” said Sage. “I know that ship. It’s the Seahorse!”
“Wonderful,” said Gale, with a sigh.
Sorrow slithered back toward the wheel where Gale stood. “Is there a problem?”
“The Seahorse is a pirate ship,” said Gale. She shook her head. “A real pirate ship, I mean.”
Sorrow understood Gale qualification. Her entire family had been branded pirates after they’d freed slaves from a fellow Wanderer’s ship. The Wanderers had recently engaged in a civil war over whether it was against their values to accept slaves as cargo. Gale’s family had been on the losing side.
“So the Seahorse might try to board us?” Sorrow asked.
Gale shook her head. “We won’t be getting anywhere near them. Between my control of the wind and Sage’s ability to see them before they see us, we’ll just slip around them.”
“Of course. It’s just that you sounded bothered when you learned it was the Seahorse.”
“To be honest, the only good news I heard during the length of the pirate wars was a report that the Seahorse had been sunk by Brightmoon’s fleet. Captain Stallion and I have something of a history.”
“A romantic history?” asked Sorrow.
Gale looked genuinely offended. “No. Eight years ago, he raided my cousin’s ship, the Stormfront. Piracy is just a day-to-day part of the business when you make your living on the sea, and my cousin attempted to dissuade Stallion from harming her ship or crew with a sizable bribe. Many pirates are merely businessmen, but Captain Stallion is motivated by sadism even more than greed. I’ll spare you the details of what unfolded on the Stormfront, and say only that he occupied the ship for three days, misusing and abusing the crew in the most horrific fashion. Under other circumstances, I wouldn’t steer away. I’d race right toward him for the chance to hang his head from my bowsprit. Alas, I may be captain of the Circus, but I’m not the owner. My first duty is to keep the ship and its passengers safe. My revenge against Stallion must wait.”
“We need not endanger this ship,” said Mako, coming back to join the conversation. Mako was the eldest of Gale’s children aboard, at twenty-one. He was tall and sleek-muscled, with long ink-black hair that hun
g down his back in a perfect glistening stripe. Despite the near-perfection of his body, his face was disturbing to look upon. His mouth was twice as wide as an ordinary man’s, and when he spoke he revealed row upon row of saw-like teeth in his muscular jaws. “It was sheer luck Stallion escaped when we ran into him near the Isle of Apes. I’ve nothing to fear from him. I’ll just swim over to his vessel and bore a hole in the bottom. When his crew hits the water, I can easily finish them off.”
“No,” said Gale. “We’ve been hired to sail to the Silver Isles. We aren’t being paid to settle old grudges. Also, we don’t even know if Captain Stallion’s still alive. Just because he once captained the Seahorse doesn’t mean he’s still in charge.”
“Oh, he’s still alive,” said Sage, looking down from the crows nest. “I see him on the deck. Even if I didn’t have my magic, he’s not a tough figure to spot.”
Sorrow wondered what that comment meant, and apparently Gale read the question in her face.
“Stallion is only human from the waist up,” she explained. “From the waist down, he has the body of a jackass.”
“Inhuman scum,” Mako cursed, the syllables spilling without a hint of irony from his shark-like jaws.
“He’s a half-seed?” asked Sorrow.
“No,” said Gale. “Ten years ago he was human. But, as I mentioned, he has a sadistic streak. Unfortunately for him, he got rough in the sack with the wrong woman. One of his victims proved to be a bone-weaver. She used her power over flesh to graft his torso onto a donkey. She told him if he was intent on behaving as a jackass, she would make him look like one as well.”
“Maybe we should stop chit-chatting and start taking some evasive action,” Sage called down. “They’re heading directly toward us.”
“Do they see us?” asked Gale.
“I don’t see how,” said Sage. “We’re still over their horizon. But if I didn’t know better, I’d say they were adjusting their course to intercept us.”
“Luckily, they don’t know who they’re dealing with,” said Gale, turning the wheel hard to starboard. “Mako, go wake Rigger and Jetsam. I want all hands on deck until we’re well clear.”
“Sure, Ma.”
“Sure, Captain. We’re employees now. We must be more professional.”
“Right,” Mako said tersely. “Captain.”
The ship lurched as the wind shifted and the Circus turned due north. They sailed on this course for about five minutes before Sage reported, “They’re turning. They’re on a course that will intersect ours.”
“That can’t be a coincidence,” said Rigger as he came back to the wheel. Rigger was a few years younger than Mako, a thin, lanky figure who always had bags under his eyes. “There’s no reason for them to change direction out here on the high seas.”
Gale said, “How are they seeing us?”
“Another clairvoyant?” asked Mako.
“Look up,” said Rigger.
All eyes turned toward a sky mottled with clouds. A small dark speck drifted across an expanse of blue between the white puffs.
Sage stared into her spyglass. “Crap,” she said. “It’s another half-animal like Stallion. This is an old woman with wings like a vulture. She’s looking straight at us, and pointing in our direction with her toes. Stallion is watching her with his spyglass.”
“Get Brand,” Gale said to Mako.
Brand had gone below deck to have breakfast with the Princess in her cabin and had yet to come back. Mako ran to get them and five minutes later everyone aboard the ship stood on the deck.
Sage pointed toward the horizon with her spyglass. “They’re getting closer.”
Indeed. Sorrow could see the white sails as specks bobbing on the horizon. They were still quite distant. She squinted, but the ships were still too far apart for her to see Captain Stallion. If he really had run afoul of a bone-weaver with sufficient talent to weave together a man and a donkey, she wanted to learn that weaver’s identity.
“Here’s our first option, sir,” Gale said to Brand. “We keep heading toward the Silver Isles. I’m fairly confident I can outmaneuver them, but can’t guarantee it. I may hate Stallion’s guts, but he wouldn’t still be alive if he weren’t a damn good sailor.”
“What’s the second option?” asked Brand.
“We turn tail. They’re only getting closer because we’re heading in converging directions. If we turn, I’m certain I can outrun them. I know nothing about their aerial spy, but she can’t stay aloft forever. Assuming she can’t see us at night, we turn back toward the Silver Isles at sunset and slip past them in the dark.”
Brand stroked his chin. “Effectively, we’d lose a day of travel. That doesn’t seem such a high price to pay.”
“Why should we pay any price?” asked Mako. “Option three: we take the fight to them. Stallion has a price on his head. We can come out of this with a profit.”
“Mako!” Gale said. “We don’t kill people for profit. If I’ve sacrificed everything to not trade in live bodies, I’ll be damned if I’ll sully myself by trading in dead ones. If we kill Stallion, we do it for justice, not to collect a chest full of moons.”
“Yes, Captain,” said Mako. “But you don’t have the final word on this matter. Brand does.”
Brand looked thoughtful as he said, “So, we’d be ridding the world of a known pirate and earning a nice reward?”
“If rewards are your only motive,” Gale said, “how do we know you won’t one day turn us in? The gold on our heads spends just as well.”
“Oh, that won’t be a problem,” said Bigsby, drawing back his shoulders and thrusting out his stuffed cleavage. He took a deep breath and stretched out his hands, as if encompassing the whole of the ship, as he said, in formal tones, “In the name of the Brightmoon throne, I hereby grant all members of the Romer family an immediate and unconditional pardon!”
“Well, that’s a weight off my shoulders,” said Rigger.
Brand sighed. “Mako, I’m sure you could take these jokers out by yourself, but I don’t see any reason to risk it. I’ve been gone from the Silver City a long time. I’m returning home with a new fortune and long-lost family.” He placed his hand on Bigsby’s shoulder. “I’m not going to risk it all just to teach some pirate a lesson.”
“Well reasoned, sir,” said a voice from the bow.
Everyone looked up. A young boy, no older than ten, stood on the bowsprit. Water beaded on his golden-tanned skin and seeped from his white cotton breeches. He was skinny; you could count the ribs on his shirtless torso. His black hair was cropped close to his scalp, and his eyes were dark and intense as he looked at them.
“Who the devil are you?” Brand asked.
“An interesting choice of words,” said the boy. “For it seems my role in life is to be the eternal adversary. Once, I believed I was the savior of mankind. Now, I suspect, I’m the death of it. But, today, I’m merely enjoying the carefree life of a seafaring scoundrel. We’ve come to take your ship, your treasure, and your women.”
“Oh, heavens,” gasped Bigsby, placing the back of his palm against his forehead.
Gale put her hands on her hips. “Aren’t you a little young, boy? Why do you need women? To have your diaper changed?”
“Amusing.” The boy chuckled, hopping to the deck next to the anchor.
“Grab this idiot before he hurts himself,” Gale said to Mako.
“Idiot?” said the boy. “You wound me. I assure you, I’m the most educated person on this ship.”
“Certainly the most talkative,” said Mako, stalking forward.
The boy waited patiently. He was unarmed. Mako was at least two feet taller. Yet the boy’s spiky red aura radiated out several yards around him, making him look like a giant in Sorrow’s eyes. “Be careful,” she warned.
“Yes,” said the boy, with a grin. “Be careful. You don’t know who it is you face.”
“In fairness, Brand did ask your name,” said Mako, reaching for the boy’s arm.<
br />
As he leaned forward, the boy took him by the wrist and spun his shoulder into Mako’s guts. Mako toppled heels over head across the railing. “What the...” he cried, before a loud splash muffled his voice.
“You! Down below!” the boy shouted toward Mako as he grabbed the anchor. “Be a friend and hold this for me, will you?” Though the anchor had to weigh more than he did, the boy tossed it overboard.
The chain went clackety-clackety-clackety as the weight dropped.
“Luckily, it’s too deep out here for the anchor to catch,” said Rigger.
“I would have thought an experienced sailor such as yourself could deduce from the color of the water that there’s a sea mount directly beneath us,” said the boy.
Just then, the ship whipped to a halt, dipping forward and throwing everyone from their feet.
Sorrow, lacking feet, remained upright, her tail wrapped around a mast to keep her stable. Not that her stability helped much. The boy somersaulted across the pitching deck faster than Sorrow’s eyes could follow. There was a loud smack to her right and when she turned her head she saw that both Rigger and Gale were flat on their backs, unconscious.
Sorrow looked up. The boy was in the rigging directly above her, grinning down.
“Want a job?” he asked. “I’ve been staffing my pirate empire with half-seeds and braided-beings. You’d fit right in.”
Suddenly, there was a grunt off to Sorrow’s side. The boy reached out his hand almost casually and caught a belaying pin that had just been thrown at him by Slate, who’d made it back to his feet. The boy flicked his arm like a whip and the small wooden club flew back at his attacker, bouncing off the center of Slate’s forehead. The big man winced, but seemed unharmed. With a growl, he leapt into the rigging and began to climb after the child.
“Sorry for the interruption,” the boy said to Sorrow as he climbed higher. “By now, it should be apparent that I’m winning. Care to join my crew?”
“Who are you again?” Sorrow asked, utterly befuddled.
“My name is Numinous Pilgrim. You may have heard of me as the Golden Child, or perhaps the Omega Reader.”
