Stowaway (A Pirate Novel) (Completed)

Chapter 22 A Plan

Chapter 22 A Plan

Later that night Zara sat with Elle, Talbot, Harv, and Miles. She told them about Leo and what he had told them. She didn't mention that he had tied Miles to a chair.

"He's not..." she paused as the emotions caused her voice to hitch, she cleared her throat. "He's not- his mind doesn't work the way ours does, not all the time. He'll be normal one minute and then he won't be." sadness flowed heavily in her voice.

Elle wanted to hug her. If they had been in a more private setting she would have.

The man that had painted her during her sitting had been perfectly lucid.

Miles sat beside her, his arm draped over the back of the chair.

"So, we can't rely on what he told you?" Talbot asked with a raised brow.

Zara didn't answer immediately. "I'm not sure. It seems to me that we can but not his interpretation of it. He sees the same things anyone else would but he interpret them differently." She shook her head. Her forhead picnched.

Harv drank from his mug, his eyes looking down into it's contents.

"Okay. Do we know how much the painting actually looks like Elle? He admitted that he couldn't really remember her. " Talbot said, hopefully. "Obviously Travis wasn't pleased with the finished result."

"It looks enough like me it only took seconds for the hunter to know that Jasmine wasn't me." she said with convection and her voice.

"We need a look at that painting." Harv said.

"Out of the question it's too dangerous." Elle said shaking her head.

"How would we even get a glance?" Zara asked.

Elle and Zara looked at each other.

"It's too dangerous, Z." Elle said shaking her head.

"We have to do something. You're leaving in less than a week." she said forlornly.

Miles took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze.

"What difference does it make? I still want be able to stay. I won't be safe, worse none of the people I care about will be safe." Elle hated to admit that this is true but she knew denying it would do no good.

"I- we- maybe-" Zara stammer and broke eye contact. She glare sadly at the old scarred table.

"I know, Z. I'll miss you too." Elle said softly. She looked at the others. She didn't let her gaze linger on the captain. "I'll miss all of you." She told them her voice thick with hot unshed tears.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

For two days she had been thinking about that painting. Zara said Leo was beaten because Reginald didn't think it looked enough like her.

The man that came to the tavern looking for her only took a second to determine that Jasmine wasn't her.

In truth Jasmine look a lot like she had before she went into hiding.

Jasmine skin was the shade or two darker. Her hair wasn't as straight as Elle's. She looks like a total innocent, Elle thought. Elle was never sure if she herself had ever looked innocent.

Elle knew what happened between men and women, in theory, she had never experienced it but she didn't fear it. She had never wanted it but it wasn't fear. It had been just a lack of interest.

She blushed and remembered the feel of Talbot's mouth on hers, her legs wrapped around his hips. Remembering the sounds he made when she pressed against him caused her stomach to flip.

She pushed the thought away.

She didn't mind when men looked at her with lùst or longing. Jasmine looked terrified when men looked at her with any interest.

Elle wondered where that fear came from, not that it matters at the moment. She had her own questions to answer.

The main question was the painting and how she could get a look at it.

She only had three days to figure out where it was and get a look at it.

She could always sneak into Reginald's parlor. He had told her their portraits would hang there after they were married.

The problem was they hadn't married and the paintings could actually be anywhere. Worst of all they could be in the banks vault.

She could think of only one person she could ask. Her father could possibly know. He had never said anything about it and she had never asked.

She tapped her fingers over her knee in a thump, thump, thump, thump, pause rhythm as she thought.

Three days was not really enough time. The others wouldn't agree to her half formed plan. And asking her father was out of the question for multiple reasons.

The man that had came looking for her at the tavern would have questions if he saw her at her fathers shop. It was too dangerous to be seen there.

Really she had only one option. Sneaking in to Sir Travis' and finding the painting herself.

She had snuck in before but had been caught. Not this time, this time she would wait until everyone slept.

There were things she would need. She dumped the coin purse contents on the bed.

Mentally she started making a list. Rope, a black cloak, a grappling hook. A set of small knives, her sword, and cloth to muffle the sound of her sword being drawn or sheathed.

She knew she would have to enter the house on the second floor. The ground floor would be locked after dark.

She was thankful for the manual labor she had done on a ship. She shouldn't have any problem climbing a rope to the second floor. So now is mainly a question of getting the supplies that she needed.

She counted out the coins and replaced them back into the purse. She stuffed the rest of her belongings under the bed for her later return. She opened the door and checked to see if anyone was in the hall.

The hallway was empty. She hurried out into the hall and made her way to the open outdoor market. There were close to a hundred vendors set up in the square.

Kiosk of all sizes vied for space amung wagons, carts, there were blankets piled high with trinketes and food. One merchant had stacked crates to make a U shaped table to display his wares.

The venders seemed to have a form of organization, food, herbs, and spices were located close together. A skinny mut of a dog ambled between the displays.

She made her way past the food stuff and found a small wagon that held bolts of cloth and baskets of other odds and ends. She inspected the bolts brown, tan, and black were the dominant colors.

An old woman, sat on a stool made for milking, and directed a younger one about the space.

Elle purchased three yards of black cloth, a hooded black cloak, two spools of black wool thread, a few needles, and a pair of dark metal scissors. The scissors being very expensive.

She wrapped it all in the cloth and continued her explorations.

She found a small wooden box, little over a foot long and a half wide, a small jar of in, and a few piece of paper (the paper turned out to be quite expensive - a farthing each), some twisted rope, a cloak pin in the shape of a bird. She added these to her bundle.

At the other end of the square she found a blacksmith. After explaining what she wanted she found that he was unable to assist her. However he did direct her in the to a smith in city cheepside that he assured her would help for the right amount of coin.

From him, as he gave her the directions she bought two sets of knives. One set a simple kitchen knife and a bread knife. The other set black palm dagers. Simply made, well weighted and balanced. Best of all any of them would fit in her boot.

She stowed her purchases in the bundle. Then she followed his directions. But by the time she arrived at the smithy her stomach growled angrily.