by White, T. A.
Tate’s lips pursed in a silent whistle. The little bauble in her hand could feed a family for a week or defend them from unwary thieves. No wonder Bones and Dewdrop had wanted to risk their appendages for such a lovely prize.
The penalty for stealing in most ports she’d stopped in was a three strikes you’re out sort of deal. For a first offence you spent a night in jail and were branded with a line across your wrist. Second offence meant a week in jail and three lashes from the whip and a second line on your wrist. Third time you were caught, you lost the hand. Of course if you stole from nobles, you could find yourself on the fast track to loosing that hand. Point in fact, the three noble looking victims her pickpockets had just robbed.
If Bones’ hadn’t just lifted the bag she’d filled with rocks from her belt, she probably would have let him keep his spoils. She’d stored the money in various places on her body while her purse served as bait. She’d only needed her coins stolen once to get wise and do as Jost did.
To be fair, she’d known the thief couldn’t resist the temptation once she stumbled into him, but nor did she feel guilty for giving him a taste of his own medicine.
Her lips twisted into an ugly smile. No, it didn’t bother her at all that she’d set him up. She made it a personal policy not to stand in anybody’s way if they wanted to hang themselves with the rope she’d given them. What was hers wasn’t to be touched by anybody. Perhaps next time he’d do a better job of sizing up his opponent.
Dewdrop hurried past her to rejoin his fellow purse-snatcher. She turned to watch him, curious if Bones had realized what she’d done. Pale gray eyes glared at her with rage. Her smile became genuine, and she gave him a one-fingered salute before heading towards the Kairi.
They hadn’t yet discovered the loss and Tate almost continued past them. Some impulse had her tossing the hair ornament to the female conversing quietly with the larger of her two guards. His deep rumble nearly overwhelmed her lighter tones. It spun through the air and was snagged in a move too quick to see as the younger guard grabbed it out of the air before it could smack the female in the head.
“You might want to do a better job of keeping track of your things,” Tate advised as she walked past.
There was the slightest rustle of sound. Tate dropped face first to the ground, letting a blade pass an inch above her head. The wind from the swing ruffled her hair. She hit the stone with a thud and rolled into her assailant, sweeping his legs out from under him. He fell as Tate continued to roll past him and onto her feet. He bounced lithely back up before she could take advantage.
She arched one eyebrow. Fast. Very fast.
The sound of a blade being drawn and a presence at her back told her Danny had joined the fight. Good thing that. While one might be doable, the second guard could attack while she was preoccupied with the first. Tate held herself with her feet shoulder width apart and her weight evenly distributed and kept her hands at her side relaxed.
“Now protocol usually confuses me in most situations, but I believe most people would issue a thank you when someone returns a lost item,” Tate said, evenly. “Am I wrong, Danny?”
“Nope, I’d have to say that’s the response I usually get,” he said without taking his eyes from the other guard.
“Unless, of course, a blade in the head is your culture’s idea of a thank you.” Tate didn’t wait for him to respond. “I must say if that’s the case, you must have a lot of rude people where you come from.”
“Why would we thank a thief?” the man spat. His words were clipped and a little garbled, as if this wasn’t his first language.
“Thief? Such language. I do believe I’m insulted. We must have different definitions of the term thief. I would define a thief as someone who steals an item with the intention of selling said item and never returning it. You must define thief as someone who returns a lost item out of the goodness of their heart with no intention of profiting from it.” Tate shot him an appalled look. “How ever do you manage the culture shock all your misunderstandings must cause?”
“There is no misunderstanding. You stole it and only returned it as part of some hidden agenda.”
“Ah, I see. Now it’s going to be paranoid accusations. I can play that game.” Tate deliberately relaxed her stance and tapped her lips with her fingertips in thought. “Maybe you are simply willing to say I am a thief so your mistress won’t notice how incompetent her guards are. After all, if that little trinket was in her hair that means the ‘thief’ had to be close enough to touch her to get at it. He could just as well have put a knife in her while he was at it.”
This time Tate was ready for him as he rushed her with an unnatural speed. His body was sinuous as it sprang at her, the katana acting as an extension of his body as it arced down to where Tate had been standing moments before. She slid just enough to the right that the blade missed her by half a foot. Before he could change the angle of his strike, she grabbed one of his outstretched arms, pulled just enough to upset his balance and then kicked his feet out from under him. This time when he fell, Tate fell with him, keeping her grip on his arm and twisting it behind his back. She landed with one knee squarely on his back. She leveraged his arm so he could feel the pressure as it rotated against the joint.
“Tsk, tsk. Letting your opponent annoy you into attacking. That’s not what a good guard would have done. Now look at your companion, he’s stepped away from Danny and closer to his charge. He probably knows that if we’d had the intention of harming her we would have distracted you and had a third come up behind as you were fighting us,” Tate whispered into his ear. She released him and sprang to her feet, keeping a slight distance from his prone figure. “Now, let’s try this again. I’ve returned your ridiculously expensive hair ornament. What do you say?”
“Thank you,” the woman said. Her voice flowed over the words. She too sounded like it wasn’t her first language, but unlike her guard, she didn’t sound stifled or harsh.
“Ah. Finally someone with manners,” Tate said.
She knew she was being condescending and rude, but she just didn’t care. She hadn’t expected a thank you, but getting attacked was a little unreasonable. That guard hadn’t even stopped to think she might be innocent. She wasn’t, but that wasn’t the point. She could have been.
If they greeted all outsiders with this level of suspicion and violence, it was a wonder they were welcomed anywhere outside their homeland.
Had Tate been a hair slower, her head would have been separated from her shoulders. Such uncalled violence. She tsked again.
The woman moved from behind her other guard. He tensed and probably would have dragged her back behind him if she hadn’t stopped him with a look.
Tate had thought the black eyes of last night had been a trick of the light. It wasn’t. It was a little disconcerting, for there was no way to tell where her pupils ended and the iris began. Tate wondered if she could see well in the dark, or if she had the same handicap as other people.
“You’ll have to forgive my guards. They do not take surprises well and their preferred method of handling the unexpected is with violence. I apologize if we caused you any discomfort.” The lady bowed slightly at the waist.
Tate returned the bow and looked up to see Danny staring at her strangely. He’d probably never seen her act so polite. She shrugged in answer to his confusion. It had seemed like the thing to do. Besides she was curious about them.
“My name is Umi. May I ask how you came across my hair piece?” Umi’s expression was serene as if she was asking about the weather.
Tate debated telling her the truth or a lie. Although there was no real reason to conceal the truth, sometimes a lie was so much more fun. She pursed her lips. In this case the truth might be just as entertaining. “I took it off the real thief.”
Chapter Three
The uproar Tate’s statement caused was almost as much fun as knocking the guard, who Tate mentally referred to as Tempest, on his ass. Several voices bega
n speaking at once. Tate stood back to watch and Danny sheathed his knives to take up a sentry position behind Tate.
“My lady. She is dangerous,” Tempest argued heatedly. “She just admitted to sending someone to steal from you.”
“Ah, ah Tempest. You know what happened last time you attacked me,” Tate taunted. “Just settle on down.”
A puzzled expression floated across Umi’s face. “Why do you call him Tempest?”
Oops, she hadn’t really meant to use his nickname out loud. Sheepishly, Tate admitted, “Because he’s like a summer storm. All bluster.”
There was silence for a stunned minute. Then Umi snapped open a fan and held it in front of her face while her shoulders shook suspiciously. Her other guard covered his mouth with one hand, but the snickers still escaped. Red crawled up Tempest’s normally almond colored skin turning it almost maroon while he swore. It was several minutes before Umi and the other guard gained control of themselves.
Tate crossed her arms and glanced at Danny. He too had a slight smile on his face, but then he had had time to get used to her odd naming practices. Tate shook her head. She didn’t think the name was that funny, but maybe it was a cultural thing. She took the time to satisfy her curiosity by examining the three.
Tate couldn’t get used to Umi’s black eyes. It felt like they could look right through you and discover all your secrets, exposing even the most closely guarded of thoughts to the light of day. Tate shivered. She hoped not. If anybody was going to discover her inner most thoughts it was going to be Tate. They were hers and nobody else’s. She only held the gaze for a moment more before looking away. There was something slightly off putting in Umi’s eyes, an almost detached intelligence. It made Tate uncomfortable. The dragon’s thoughts scrapped against hers before settling down as if it was agreeing with her assessment.
She’d seen the same eyes on a Serilean Serpent right before it rammed the Marauder. That thing had eyes as cold as the depths it had surfaced from, and it hadn’t cared about anything but its needs.
The two guards on closer examination did not have the same completely black eyes. Instead, their abnormally large pupils only created the illusion of all-black eyes. They were ringed with a blue so light that it looked almost white at first glance. It was a little spooky, but eerily pretty.
Almost unnoticeable with their darker skin were small patterns of golden scales across their hairline and jaw.
Tate looked at their hands. They were normal. Perhaps the fingers were a bit longer than usual. She felt a little cheated. She’d half been expecting webbing. It’d help them swim faster. But, perhaps they didn’t swim.
Umi’s said with a distant politeness, “Thank you for your kindness. It has been a difficult trip, and my guards and I needed to be reminded that the world is not such a dark place.”
Tate refrained from mentioning she hadn’t intended to provide them with entertainment.
What had made their trip difficult? And what other traits did the Kairi have that differed from humans? She was bubbling with questions. Danny, having guessed the line of Tate’s thoughts, nudged her and shook his head. Begrudgingly, she bowed to his greater experience.
“I am happy to have lightened your burden,” she offered with a bow.
Umi’s lips barely moved as she said, “I hope we meet again. It is unusual to run into someone such as yourself.”
Tate got the sense she didn’t necessarily mean it as a compliment. She straightened from her bow and nodded stiffly. Perhaps she was being a bit harsh on the woman. Next to Umi’s beauty and grace, Tate felt like a heathen.
“I wish you calm seas and favorable tides,” Umi said inclining her head in an obvious dismissal. She and her guards swept away. The only one to look back was Tempest. Tate snorted. His blush was just beginning to fade. If looks could peal skin, Danny and Tate would be walking around with their insides on the outside.
“I wonder if they can really hold their breath for as long as Riply said they could,” Tate mused. “I didn’t see gills, but maybe their lungs are larger than ours.”
She looked up at Danny. He had a stupefied expression on his face, which Tate chose not to comment on as she turned away sharply. It made him look like a landed fish, with his eyes all a goggle in shock. It didn’t suit his normal personality at all.
It was a look Tate had been on the receiving end of more than once. She had no idea why, though.
Gently, she reached out and closed his gaping mouth. Really, what would he do if a fly flew in there? That’d just be disgusting.
“Woah, Tate, you got into a fight with the Kairi and walked away with all your limbs still attached.” A voice to their right snapped Danny out of his daze as Trent popped out from one of the stalls carrying a baked pastry. “I’ve never heard of anyone who tangled with them and didn’t come out on the loosing end. You’re either crazy or— no, you’re just crazy. Even Captain Jost steps lightly around them. They’re a very dangerous people.”
The pastry was forgotten as he flailed his arms in emphasis. Tate nodded indicating she was listening, but meanwhile kept her eyes glued to the pastry. When it slumped in his hand, seconds from dropping to the ground, she grabbed it and took a big bite. Her eyes closed as the flavors of cherry and vanilla exploded on her tongue. She loved cherry. Vanilla too.
“Ahh, what is it with you and stealing my food?” Trent cried.
“Not my fault if you don’t pay attention,” Tate mumbled around a full mouth.
“So, how’d you do it?” Trent asked, his eyes pleading for answers. “I didn’t even see him swing but you— you were a blur, and then suddenly you were both on the ground. Can you teach me?”
Tate chewed her pastry thoughtfully. Teach, huh? Not likely. Often times Tate didn’t know how she was going to move until she was already moving. Especially when she was in danger it seemed muscle memory took over and guided her. It wasn’t smart relying on such a thing, and it certainly wasn’t something she felt comfortable trying to teach. At least not until she had a better grasp of self defense and what her body had already learned.
“And Danny. You were— it was simply amazing the way you didn’t even think. You just had her back. Were you scared? I bet you didn’t even think about it.” Trent’s eyes shone with hero worship for Danny as his questions tumbled out.
Tate stifled a laugh at the look of bewilderment on Danny’s face.
“If you saw the fight go down, why didn’t you join in?” Tate teased.
“Uh,” Trent scuffed a foot on the ground and looked around uncomfortably.
Tate held an angry face for another minute and was pleased to see Danny had followed her lead, glaring at Trent stonily.
She burst out laughing a second later when he started turning a bright red. “I’m just picking on you, Trent. If you’d jumped in, you would have probably gotten people hurt.”
Danny punched him playfully in the shoulder in. Trent’s grin came back, and he bounced along beside them, already off on another tangent. His hands moved excitedly through the air as the three of them made their way out of the market and back towards the inn.
By the time they made it back to the Crow’s Nest, the sun had begun to set, bathing Aurelia in shadows and gold.
The crowds on the streets had thinned as the shadows from the city lengthened and deepened, the people heading inside for dinner. One by one glow lights flickered on, powered by an unseen source bound together with magic. The Marauder had one, but some ships didn’t. Pirating work was profitable, but glow lights were considered a luxury rather than a necessity at sea. Most cities with a population whose taxes could support the cost had them, but many of the more provincial ones didn’t. Aurelia being the empire’s crowning gem had enough for several on every street. It never got fully dark in Aurelia.
A wall of noise greeted the three as they entered the taproom of the Crow’s Nest. It was even more crowded than it had been that morning as the night crowd started to get going. Musicians had set
up shop in a corner as waitresses fetched steaming platters of food and refilled tankards with beer. The crowd was a mixture of all types, from the sea rough traveler to the slightly unkempt regular.
A man from a table in the back stood and waved at them.
“Captain!” Trent cried and made a beeline for the table. Danny and Tate followed at a more sedate pace, winding a twisting path around outstretched legs and more than one misplaced chair. Their steps crunched as they walked over the discarded shells of nuts.
Tate grimaced at the slightly sticky sensation of spilled beer. No stranger to pubs, she still didn’t like the thought of what was on the floor being stuck to the bottom of her soft leather boots. They were her only pair.
She dodged one man’s adventurous hands and immediately skirted another’s. Her teeth clenched. Must. Not. Start. Another. Fight. He was discouraged from trying again when Danny loomed over him threateningly.
Danny, and Riply too, were her unspoken champions among the crew, acting like she was a little sister. They’d appointed themselves her protectors early on, threatening the others with death and dismemberment if they stepped out of line. For someone with no family, it was nice to be treated with such care.
She’d thought about going to them with her problem since they’d helped keep the other men away from her. But with the increase of hostility, it was better to leave it alone. It would be mighty easy for her enemies to corner either one of her friends on one dark night and simply toss them overboard. She wouldn’t be responsible for their deaths. Not after all they’d done for her.
She’d miss them, though. More than anybody else.
“Pull up a chair you two,” Jost said when they reached him. “You can join us for dinner.”
