Scarlet Sails

5. Battle Preparations

When Gray climbed on the deck of Secret, he stood immobile for a few minutes, running his hand through his hair back to front in extreme mystification. Absentmindedness and the cloudy movements of emotions reflected on his face as a senseless grin of a lunatic.

His first mate Panten ambled along the quarterdeck with a plate full of fried fish. "How are you, captain? You didn't hurt yourself?" he asked carefully, noticing his captain's strange expression. "Where have you been? Well, that's none of my business. A broker is offering a profitable freight, with a bonus. What's wrong with you, sir?"

"Thanks." Gray sighed, as if his restraints had fallen off. "I lacked your simple and clever voice. It's like drenching with cold water. Panten, tell the men: we raise anchor today and move to the Liliana estuary, ten miles from here. The riverbed is clogged with shallows, so you could only get in there from the sea. Come to my cabin for a map. I don't want a pilot on board. That's it... Oh, yes, tell the broker I need his profitable freight as the last year's snow. I'm going to the city and will be there till nightfall."

"What's the matter?"

"Absolutely nothing, Panten. I want you to keep in mind that I don't want any questions asked. When the moment is right, I'll tell you what's happening. Tell the sailors that we're going to make repairs, and the local dock is full."

"Aye, sir," Panten said, gaping senselessly at Gray's retreating back.

Although the captain's orders made perfect sense, his mate dashed to his own cabin with his plate, muttering, "So, Panten, he's puzzled you. Does he want to try smuggling? Are we going to raise a pirate blackjack?" After that, he got lost amongst the wildest suppositions.

While Panten demolished his fish in agitation, Gray went down to his cabin, picked up some money, and took a boat to Liss, heading to the city's trading district. Calm and assured, he knew what to do now, knew every detail on the miraculous road ahead. His every move and every thought warmed him, filled him with delicate joy. His plan had shaped instantly, while his worldview underwent that last touch of a sculptor's chisel, after which the marble is serene in its glowing splendor.

Gray visited three shops. With the exact color and shade planted firmly in his mind, he paid particular attention to the preciseness of his choice. In the first two shops, the salesmen only showed him silks of cheap colors, to satisfy unsophisticated tastes. In the third one, he found samples of complex effects.

The owner, happy to dispose of the unsold goods, hastened to display his wares, but Gray was serious like an anatomist. Patiently, he dug into the mounds of fabric bolts, selecting and rejecting, heaping so many carmine swathes on each other, the counter seemed to burst out in flames. A purple wave fell on his boot; pink light gleamed on his face and hands. As he subjugated the slight resistance of silks, he distinguished the tinges of color: pale red, pink and crimson, dense boiling of cerise, orange, and glumly maroon. The nuances of all forces and meanings were here, different in their false kinships, like the words "charming", "amazing", "fabulous", and "perfect". Tinctures unattainable by simple sight hid inside the folds, but the real scarlet didn't appear. Whatever the shopkeeper brought before the captain's eyes was good, but not good enough. Nothing elicited the clear and sure "Yes".

Finally, one sample caught his disarmed attention. He sat down in the armchair by the window, pulled a swath from the noisy roll of silk, and sprawled with his pipe in his teeth, staring, motionless.

That color was pure like a scarlet morning stream, infused with noble joy and regal beauty, the proud color Gray had been searching for. It didn't have any mixed hues of fire, nor poppy petals, nor purple or lilac hints. It didn't contain anything blue or shady—nothing to call up doubts. It blushed like a smile, with a charm of a soulful reflection.