When Legends Cross

3 • Face to Face

"I was told a young man with a black ponytail was headed this way. You seen him?"

The bartender rested her elbows on the bar, leaning forward as she lowered her voice. "Black ponytail? Yeah, a guy like that came in maybe half an hour ago. He some kind of bandit?"

Daf pursed his lips, casting a quick glance behind him. "Pirate."

Her eyes widened. "Out here?"

He nodded, hoping to avoid the details. "It's a small ship."

"Well, I'm sure we'll be fine as long as you're taking care of it." She winked. Apparently, news of Daf's failure hadn't made it out here yet.

He sighed. "Did you see him leave?"

"Don't think so, but I wasn't really watching for him. Coulda gone upstairs, too..." She glanced over her shoulder at a staircase, just as a patron hurried up the rickety steps and disappeared into the ceiling. "I'll shout if he pops up."

"Thanks."

The bartender stood straight and nodded to the rum barrels lined up behind her. "You want anything this evening?"

He shook his head. "I don't drink."

She shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Daf turned around, scanning the room. The smell of rum and smoke had long since soaked the wooden walls; if there was anywhere in Tarriva pirates might loiter, this seemed like the place. Dusty faces and worn clothes moved in and out of the dim yellow light, but none of them resembled Kas' description, however sparse that description was. Of course, anyone else from the Starwatch could be here too, and Daf would be none the wiser. The ship hadn't been around this continent long enough to make itself a well-known threat.

A grating voice cut through the chattering hum just before Daf's eyes landed on its equally-grating source. "Carter has some nerve, coming round here again," a tall, stocky man drawled. His eyes focused on Daf's long enough to say that he knew Daf was listening, before they turned back to the people gathering around him.

Daf clenched his fists. Two days ago, Buck Wesson wouldn't have been able to phase him—nor would anyone else. He was here for a pirate, he would leave with a pirate, and his legend would grow in his wake.

But that wasn't what had happened the night before, and the ghostly paper on which that legend was written suddenly seemed awfully easy to tear.

Someone in the room spoke up, "You have some nerve insulting him, Wesson." A few other voices muttered in agreement, causing Buck's scowl to deepen.

Here for a pirate. Not a bar fight. He turned away.

The bartender's voice called, "Sheriff Carter, look out-"

A finger tapped his shoulder.

Daf spun around, and was hit with a pair of startlingly bright silver-gray eyes. It wasn't just the uncommon color that threw him off, but the way they almost seemed to look through him instead of at him.

"Sheriff Carter," the young man addressed him with a nod. He brushed a ponytail of wavy black hair over his shoulder, as if that said everything it needed to.

It took Daf a second to place the feeling of rage that boiled up his throat, and in that time, the man had taken a large step back, narrowly avoiding the reach of Daf's hand.

The man gave him a smile that was closer to a baring of teeth than a show of friendliness. "You were asking for me?" he asked.

Uniform white teeth. Long, well-kept hair. Pale skin, small frame, tenor voice.