Adventures of Captain Xdey

by Laura Dasnoit

  Chapter Five

  At the eastern edge of Upper City, near the lots where the flying ships parked, the blue and white canopies of the fair had already been set up. Workers were busy shuffling through each tent with papers in their hands. High pitched organ music bellowed from within. A mealy man who smelled of crackling candy corn stood alone at the main entryway. Xoey hurried past the side of the large tent. Not wanting to call the attention of the pallid man, she passed through a side entrance filled with strange wires and valves that were attached to a large mechanical contraption. There were metal tin toys sitting on red shelves shaped in every conceivable variation of the imagination, from horses pulling carriages to complexities of tiny cats that sang on a house rooftop.

  Xoey heard a voice coming from behind a curtain. She wondered who it could belong to. The voice was low and resonant. “What should we do with them?”

  A reply responded softly, reminding Xoey of delicate wind chimes. “I rather find them to be expendable, but the cargo says Important.”

  Xoey leaned in past the curtain. The room, elegant and sedate, was occupied by a man dressed in red striped pants, white crisp shirt with a red bowtie, and topped with a red plush hat. Across from him was a woman, wispy like her voice, in a white flowing dress tied tight at the waist with a sash. Large and imposing barred crates rested behind them; they imprisoned animal and human alike. The man pointed at a yellow creature. It stood no taller than Xoey’s knees. “I want the schooma.”

  The schooma was a nocturnal animal. They were notorious for large tawny eyes with small pupils, slits for a nose, and the lack of a mouth. Xoey had heard pirates tell tales of how the schooma ate the sun’s rays. The woman blinked her long jeweled lashes. “As I stated, the cargo is for the circus.” She pulled him by the arm. “What you desire is this way.”

  When all seemed clear, Xoey threw herself forward and ran headlong toward the cages. The confined men looked around, puzzled. “Kid,” one of them whispered. “The key is on the table.”

  She grabbed the key, placed it in the clunky lock, and with one decisive movement, she opened the door. A few hands patted her hat. She handed the key over.

  “I need to find the Tinkertons.”

  The man with the blue eyes responded. “You won’t find them here. We heard they’d be shipped down to Giant’s Pass in two days.”

  The schooma, with a few hops, rested on Xoey’s shoulder. She could feel the thick tail move under her neck. She patted his head. “I shall call you Jesco.”

  Xoey wandered through the huge interiors of the canopies and barely avoided being noticed by a man clad in blue paint. “Nix is here,” he shouted down the narrow hallways. Everybody was listening. Everybody was talking. Xoey listened to the workers as she found a small place under the center stage. The steps down helped, and they also made her nervous as stairs meant easy access for everyone else. She wedged herself between the stage floor and the trap door. There were small holes in the dark wood allowing her to see the audience. Xoey guessed this was the place for staged magic show volunteers. Her father had once taken her to see a show when they were landlocked for an extra day due to a heavy storm.

  “He is not due to arrive for another day or two,” she heard a female say.

  ”We’re ahead o’ schedule. Ain’t got nothin’ to worry about,” a male responded.

  Xoey squinted to see through the small cracks. Three heavy thumps sounded above her—one, two, pause. One, two, pause, one. The room fell silent and the audience turned its undivided attention to someone above her. “Good evening, fellow carnivalians!” his voice boomed with pride. Xoey sat very still, making herself as small as she could. She chewed her fingernails and stayed as quiet as possible.

  A woman with a large bow-tie around her thick neck swayed and sighed. “Oh, Nix…” Xoey didn’t understand how anyone could sway for another. She felt it to be unappetizing.

  The three thumps continued to resound down past the stage until Nix moved into the crowd and into Xoey’s view. His weight rested heavily on his right side and was held up by a shimmering metallic cane that was fastened together with square nails. “I do hope I am not interrupting this glorious creation,” Nix said as he gestured around him. The lingering crowd’s attention clung to the leader in awe. He could do no wrong in their eyes. “I would like to see a preview of the main event.”

  Much like the bronze statue, Nix walked upright, shoulders back, chest out. He always seemed to be on the prowl, like a fox ten steps ahead of the hounds. His thumb and forefinger glided along his thin mustache as he took the arm of a redheaded tattooed lady. The painted lady licked her hand and sliced the salvia down his cowlick. Xoey crinkled up her nose and cringed at the sight. She had heard rumors of relatives licking napkins and using the spit to wipe smudges off one’s face. Nix wore a crisp silver jacket, matching pants, and fabric-covered buttons to match. A small copper gear was pinned neatly on his lapel. Under the flaps of his white shirt, a black ribbon rested in a soft billowing bow.

  It was pure madness. In many ways, it was electrifying for Xoey to watch. People pushed through the crowds, costumes in hand, some half on and half off. One man attempted to jump into his striped pants. Xoey cupped her hands over her mouth to stifle the laughter that threatened to erupt at the sight.

  Animals of enormous strength and magnitude were coaxed into tutus and red bows. She could see a man in a blue jacket with tails that curled to avoid touching the floor. He had radiant emerald eyes, thick rosy cheeks, and a dashing white toothy smile. With such a personable presence, Xoey did not expect his voice to be demure in his attempts to calm the crowd. He noticed he was failing and failing miserably, so he grabbed a chrome plated microphone. “Settle down!” The resounding bass in his voice was unexpected, and Xoey banged her head on the thick wood above her.

  The tattooed lady tapped Nix on the shoulder and pointed intently in Xoey’s direction Afraid of being discovered, Xoey slid out of the hole. She hissed at getting her hair caught in a bent nail. Out of the hole, she saw a ladder that led down into the unknown darkness below.

  Unwilling to be caught, she pulled her sleeves over her hands, grabbed the outer railing, took a deep breath, and slid down. The ground was murky, damp, and smelled like sweaty socks mixed with dead rodents. She looked down at her red, raw hands and made a mental note to find some Yaw Ointment. If Grittle was anything like her home, the Yaw plant was found in dry and sunny regions. The thick hide was centered at the base as the branches spiraled to harbor red and yellow delicate flowers that dripped with the healing sap. Jesco, with the aid of his tail, jumped down the stairs.

  “Find her!” she heard a voice from above say. Xoey gulped, replaced her hat which had fallen half way down the slide, and ran down the long dark tunnel. Metal carvings on the stone walls signified warnings that she did not understand. A sound behind her clanged as she weaved past the first awning and ducked down into the next. The echo of footfalls drummed in her direction. She could hear her heartbeat pounding through her skin.

  From the darkness behind her a gentle noise tickled her ear. “This way.” She froze in terror. The footsteps were growing closer and Xoey turned back to the voice to see a man in battered clothing that looked to have been bashed against a sharp edged rock face for weeks. “Decyl sent me…just in case.” Xoey nodded to the dark man. It wasn’t odd for her to see those of the midnight skin. They were the assassins, built for keen sight, and remained in tune with the natural world. He bent down to her level. “Follow me.”

  “Won’t they see us?” she muttered under her breath, hoping that it was loud enough for him to hear. The man paused long enough to pull her ahead of him. The men who were chasing her ran down the corridor and parted, subconsciously it seemed, to pass by them. Xoey watched as they gained momentum and turned right. She felt a pat on her head. “Now we go left.”

  “How did you do that?” she inquired.

&nbs
p; The stranger smiled a pristine white smile. “In time, Xoey.” They turned left, right, and left again. Xoey wasn’t sure of where they were anymore; every wall, hall, nook and cranny looked the same as the one before it.

  “What is this place?”

  “When the Great War was just beginning to brew, the gnomes created a vast labyrinth filled with secret compartments of grand weapons. They are a very cautious breed, you see. Then Nix took over the lands and forced them to reveal the hiding place and the weapons within.”

  “Why?”

  He rubbed his closely shaved head. “Nix desires to take control of Grittle. Desert Town, No Man’s Land, and Storm’s Hold refuse to bow before him. He has threatened great harm. So far, his words are hollow.”

  Her stomach gurgled quite audibly. It had been a long while since she last ate. The man looked down at her. “Not to worry, you’ll eat in due time.”

  She’d hoped her stomach wasn’t that loud. “Sorry.”

  He pushed open a round grate and gestured her through. “Go up the stairs, take the first door on the right, and head on back to the house. I’ll meet you and the group in Desert Town.”

  Xoey scratched her nose in thought. “Why are we heading there? The Tinkertons are in Giant’s Pass.”

  With a heavy sigh, he shook his head. “I’ll explain everything when you arrive.” He handed her a thick sealed parchment. “Can’t go home empty handed.” Jesco jumped on Xoey’s back and hitched a ride.

  She gingerly took the parchment and felt disappointed that it wasn’t food. The hole was just small enough to let her pass through. She could hear him shut the grate behind her. The room was sectioned off in four corners filled with tables and trinkets of monetary value, or so she guessed. Xoey tripped over her own shoelace. Annoyed, she placed the paper under her arm and tied the lace as best as she could. Nadine had shown her a few times, but it was harder than it looked. She muttered that it was just another thing she had to keep up with.

  A slow-simmering meat aroma filled the air. Xoey’s mouth watered and she smacked her lips in anticipation. He did say she’d be able to eat soon. She skipped up the stairs to find the scent did not come from the first door on the right, but instead the second. Maybe he was wrong? She pressed her ear against the rough wooden door. All was silent. With a hand on the knob and her back against the wall, she opened the door. Xoey peeked around the door frame to find a single plate of steaming leg of meat waiting. Eyes wide and mouth open, Xoey ran in and grabbed the bone end of the meat. She chomped down on nothing but air. “Huh?” The illusion vanished and she found herself trapped in an iron cage.

  Xoey kicked the cage door. “Let me out!” For once, she felt grateful for the protection of the shoes, but that didn’t mean she could not feel the jolt of vibration ring up through her bones. She felt drained from overexerting what energy she had left. Xoey heaved a sigh and closed her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Father,” she caught herself saying, and though she knew it was far from her fault the guilt weighed heavily upon her soul. His laughter was the only hug she ever needed, and she’d work the lives of a hundred men just to hear it again. With that, the tears flowed down her pale cheeks as she muffled the sobs into her sleeve. She hoped he would appear next to her, to be her little secret down here—and yet, he never revealed himself. He was gone. Jesco tugged the paper under her arm, interrupting her sorrow. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand and with the other she opened the folded parchment and read the words out loud.

  “The unseen become the seen and the seen become unseen.”

  She turned the page to find it was blank. “That’s it?” Confused, she folded up the paper and placed it back under her arm. Her eyes shifted at the movement in the far right corner of the room. Xoey chuckled nervously at the sight of three very well-armed men. One of them was the man who sent her through the grate. He placed his forefinger upon his lips.

  The doorknob jiggled and the door opened to reveal a man of large girth wearing a white apron smothered in red splotches. In his hand he held an intimidating knife. Xoey pressed her back against the iron bars. The man had thick wattles under his chin, just like a big old turkey. His dark grey eyes scanned past the cage in which she sat, and he looked very confused. He then locked eyes with the three men who carried swords that were a lot bigger than his knife. The butcher held out his knife and dropped it. “Just here for a child; nothing to do with the lot of you.”

  “It has everything to do with us,” the leader said.

  They gestured for him to move toward the cage. The butcher ran out the door. The two men who flanked the leader followed. Xoey couldn’t think of anything to say other than, “I was hungry.”

  With gentle eyes and a harsh swing of his sword, he nodded and cut open the lock. “No one will be able to see you through the crowds. Once you enter the threshold of the house, the spell will drop. Now, run.”

  She ran. She ran as fast as her little legs could carry her.

  In a gloved hand, Nix held up the pure white strands of hair. “I never imagined a child who is destined to ruin everything could be caught so easily.”

  The tattooed woman slithered an arm around his shoulders. “Of course. She is still a child. She has yet to be corrupted by this cruel world.”

  Nix narrowed his dark gaze, tossing the hair aside as he pulled away from her. “Rochelle, this world is far from cruel. It is my world and it will be filled with glorious things.”

  Rochelle removed a small oil can from the shelf. “It shall be as you say. Whatever will you do with the rug rat?”

  He caught his appearance in the ornate oval mirror. “Kill her, of course.”

  She smiled. “Intriguing…I like the way you think.” Rochelle handed the oil to Nix. “This should take care of the kink in your shoulder.”

  A man dressed in green entered the small room. “Sir, she’s gone.”

  Nix threw the can across the room. “I assign one simple task—you fledglings can’t even handle a little girl!”

  With a forefinger, Nix opened the door. The cage door was shut tight, the lock broken, and inside, instead of the snotty child, was the bloody remains of his butcher. He wasn’t all too happy at the sight, and the prickly smell of copper the blood gave off reminded him of the war. This white-haired pirate child should have been a cinch to keep confined in an iron box.

  Something buzzed within his jacket pocket. Nix fetched a coin-sized locket. He pressed his thumb on the side, the top flipped open, and inside a static-looped message said, “Meet me in Old Town.”

  Deep within the bowels of Old Town, where the streets became a maze of clutter, trash, and loiters, there was a barred up wooden building near the dankest alleyway that reeked of mildew and mothballs. Nix kept silent and hit a can with his cane down the narrow corridor behind the dilapidated tavern. He pulled open the rusty door and walked in.

  A bright flame danced in the darkness ahead of him. An imposing bald man with tattoos adorning his skull had brought the light with him. He nodded and gave an inviting gesture for Nix to follow. He was dressed in various layers of clothing made from leather and fur. They walked past stone pillars and empty racks that once harbored ale and wine. Warm chatter seeped into his ears long before the darkness dissipated, and when they reached the end of the long hallway, they turned right. Nix walked into a well-lit room filled with well over two dozen men who looked as if they possessed the ability to drink several tankards of ale and still remain standing. These were pirates, however, and they more often than not exceeded their bodily limit.

  Nix cringed at the very sight of pirates in his town. He’d have to remember to contact Gesler to remind him of his job. Sitting in the far corner was the one he intended to meet. There sat a tall, muscular female with bronzed skin and shoulder-length blue hair who was dressed for travel instead of battle. Nix had heard of the warrior charging against men that were five t
imes her size, clad in full armor, but enough cloth to run without demoralizing her own gender—and she always won. She regarded Nix with contempt. He pulled out a chair and sat across from her.

  “You rang?”

  Amorina smirked. “I did. You came running at the sound of my bell.”

  Nix rubbed his jaw. “This isn’t your land. I run Grittle.”

  She placed a dagger between them. He could see the sheen that coated the blade. “The child is mine.”

  His hand gripped the ball of his cane. “Desperate of you to tell me so. Unfortunately, she is not immune from our laws.” He paused. “Even more unfortunate…neither are you.”

  She didn’t have time to reach for her blade. A cold barrel was pressed heavily against her neck. The room flooded with Nix’s men carrying guns that outnumbered every weapon the pirates had two to one. Nix rose from the chair with a grave grin. He smoothed out his mustache and gave Amorina a proud bow. “I think you’ll find comfort in Upper City.”

  Xoey walked in, stumbling over her shoes. Mal pushed his sister. “It’s just Xoey. I told you.”

  Xoey kicked off the poorly laced shoes. “I ain’t doing that again. Nix was there.”

  Nadine practically squealed in delight at the sight of the schooma. “Can I hold him?”

  Xoey plucked the creature off of her shoulder and handed him over to Nadine.

  Mal grew wide-eyed in anticipation. “Did you kill him?”

  Nadine thought of smacking him, yet again, but thought better of it. She found herself curious of Xoey’s answer.

  Xoey sat down in the yellow and blue striped chair. “I think your head is filled with fluff when it comes to how pirates operate—and to kill, you need more than just a kid. So no, Mal, I didn’t kill him.”