“Saldré,” they chanted. “Saldré! Saldré!”
I froze in the doorway, stricken by the sound of my name. A hand pressed against the small of my back urging me forward through the crowd.
“She’s that one!” a man cried, pointing to the girl in front of me.
“Her nose is too broad!” another man yelled. “It’s the girl in the back!”
“She looks scared!” a third pointed out. He turned his eyes on me. “I think that one is Saldré!”
“Too lost,” said the first man. “Saldré knew the control she held.”
“Let them pass, she is not one of them!”
The crowd parted slightly and we rushed through, eager to distance ourselves from their scrutiny. The girls around me all headed off in a single direction. I broke away from them and headed back to my own camp, they were all probably headed to Carnie’s camp. I walked across the common in the dawn, feeling the exhaustion of the past 24 hours weighing on me suddenly. I wanted to lie down in the tall grass and sleep for a few days, to disappear from those who watched for my vulnerability every second. Yet I trudged onward, dragging myself up the ladder and down the stairs to my bunk. The rooms around me rumbled, the snores of drunken men echoing down the hall.
Of course sleep had barely found me before someone burst into my room.
“CAP’N WANTS YOU” Fame-jujio thundered.
I rolled out of bed, throwing my daggers into my sash. I followed Fame-jujio up to the top deck and into the Captain’s cabin. Fame left the room immediately, slamming the door behind him. Despite his tousled hair, Mají-jalio looked awake and attentive as I stood before him. His eyes darted to the door behind me, waiting until he was sure it would not open again.
“Did you have a good time at the Conclave last night Gittoran?” he asked.
“I did what I had to sir, it was very… different.”
He nodded absentmindedly out the window, more to himself than to me. He walked over and stood before the window, polishing the hilt of his rapier absentmindedly with the cloth that bound his hands. We stood that way for a minute, in silence while he wiped away the non-existent dust as he toyed with the hilt.
“Do you know why I have called you here while you should be sleeping off the Conclave?” he asked finally, his hand clenched around the hilt of the blade.
“No sir,” I responded. “I do not know what it is that you want with me.”
“I am curious about you Gittoran. Your efforts at the last raid, your budding powers…. It makes me wonder what your ultimate abilities will become. If your thieving ability was luck or skill. I will test you today in this ability, while your mind is numb from fatigue and your senses dull. There is something you must retrieve for me.”
“Anything Captain,” I said. “What is it and where can I find it?”
“There is a pirate captain by the name of Vinyé that lives to the north of here, across the field and beyond the compound that housed last night’s conclave. Among his men is one who wronged something of mine last night, a scrawny blonde by the name of Tithe.” Mají-jalio scowled out the window, his knuckles white where he held his sword. “I should kill him, but it would set a poor example for the others. He must have some sort of drug stash near his bunk, a bag of mint leaves or strange chocolates. I want you to retrieve them for me.”
I nodded, understanding exactly what he wanted, yet I asked anyway, “Why mint sir? What use could that be to you?”
“It’s not for me Gittoran,” he said slowly. “It’s for you. You need to hone your power, mint will give you access to it. Between that and Obsidarian’s drilling we will have you up to speed with the rest of us before the next conclave.”
“Yes Captain,” I responded, though my insides were shaking suddenly. Briamy had said a pirate could lose control with mint in their system. What if I hurt Obsidarian? Or worse, my captain?
“Is there anything else you can tell me about Tithe?” I asked. “There must be more than one blonde that looks to Captain Vinyé’s colors.”
“He is the only one who will sleep with a dagger in his hand. He trusts no one; the others are comfortable in their bunks, surrounded by crewmates. Tithe is the kind to sleep with a weapon. He is paranoid, only successful at luring in those young and unaware,” Captain Mají-jalio said.
“Then how could he have lured you in sir?” I asked.
“He didn’t,” Mají snapped. “Now go, you’re wasting daylight.”
Fifteen minutes later found me crouched in a bush, watching the strange camp belonging to Vinyé. I was watching the entrance, a large hole in the ground between two roots of a massive tree. It was the only thing in this section of woods that looked to be made by humans. I crept over to the hole, peering in to the faint torchlight. No guards were posted. I dropped into the darkness, setting off down the tunnels that splayed out before me. A sense of déjà vu crept over me; the place reminded me of the tunnels that led from Effugere. It was a twisting labyrinth between the gargantuan tree roots the camp had been built around. I listened in the darkness, and was rewarded by the faint rumbling of men snoring. I set off to follow the sound, winding my way through the forks and intersections until the sound was deafening.
Three rooms were before me, full of snoring pirates and ragged blankets. Bunks and hammocks were everywhere, with barely room to roll over between berths. I saw piles on the floor near the corners, men curled up in scraps of whatever material they could scrounge up, human nests. It was a filthy sort of den.
I stepped into the room lightly, hopping over men and twisting around to check every man’s face for Tithe. He was not in the first room. As I turned to leave one man rolled over in his sleep, his coin purse fell from his belt and onto the bunk beside him. It was pitiful really, a mere handful, but moments later it was tied to my belt. I couldn’t resist really, it called to me. The man on the bunk above the pirate had a jeweled dagger hanging from his sash. I took it as well.
I swept into the second room. A few more coin purses caught my eye. I stole gold hoops and rings from muscled fingers. No man stirred, it was like robbing the dead. Only their putrid breath and steady breathing reminded me not to wake them in my efforts. The third room yielded more coins, more jewelry, and a whole cache of rum. Beyond the rum, stashed away in the corner, half buried under a pile of rags, was Tithe. He did not look nearly so dazzling here as he had at the conclave. His blonde hair was unkempt, his face coated in layers of filth and grime. He slept with a rapier in hand, his knuckles white from his vice-like grip. I could see his possessions worked into the nest he had created, the small glittering objects gleaming dully in the torchlight.
I approached his nest cautiously; grateful for the packed earth that muffled my footsteps. Examining the pile beneath his sleeping form, I could not see the mint I was sent for. There was no chocolate to be seen. I began to move the some of the ragged blankets that formed the pile. Tithe’s form stiffened suddenly, and I backed away. Unlike the other men, he had felt my motions. I needed to move him.
I turned to the rum cache and opened three of them, dumping their contents in a muddied corner of the room, the empty bottles I set beside Tithe. Among the other men I looked to a brute of a man I had robbed minutes before. He no longer had a coin purse or an emerald ring on his hand. His jeweled dagger remained in his belt. I smiled to myself, slipping the dagger out and checking the small space beneath his bunk. It would be close, but I would fit. The shadows from the guttering torches would keep me concealed.
I darted back to Tithe, replacing his dagger with the one belonging to his crewmate. Without stopping I returned to the man’s bunk, tugging lightly on his green sash before diving beneath the bunk. He woke with a quiet yell, sitting up quickly. The padding that served as a mattress buckled under the new distribution of weight, pressing me into the dirt floor. I stopped breathing, afraid that he would feel my movements. I waited for a moment, I could hear him cursing as he searched for the dagger he no longer held.
“In Griffon’s name…” he hissed, trailing off.
He stood from his bunk, permitting to breathe as I watched him stomp toward Tithe. His bare foot lashed out and caught Tithe in the stomach. Tithe woke and lashed out with his rapier, cutting his crewmate across the thigh as he curled up around his stomach.
“What is the meaning of this?” his crewmate rumbled.
I watched him bend down and pull his dagger from Tithe’s sash.
“I didn’t…” Tithe gasped out.
The pirate kicked him again, once more in the stomach and then once in the wrist, breaking Tithe’s hold on the rapier.
“We’re going to Captain Vinyé about this,” he said, picking up Tithe by his shirt front. “We’re going to see if anything else has gone missing around here.” He shook Tithe again, walking him out of the room and down the tunnels. I could hear Tithe begin to plead with them as their voices receded.
I crawled from my hiding place and tore through Tithe’s nest, removing a few more valuables and replacing them with those I stole from the rest of the crew. When I reached the dirt I began to dig, shifting through the looser earth until I found the bags I was searching for. Two of mint leaves, one of chocolates. I tossed two coin purses in their place, sloppily recovering them in the soil and recreating Tithe’s nest on top of them.
The other men were beginning to stir. I flopped down on the whole pile to make a human indent, and then fled the room, darting through the tunnels until I emerged into the sunlight. Twice I ducked into rooms, waiting as voices passed me, crewmen talking drowsily about a thief in their midst.
I never thought I would be so grateful for sunlight and fresh air. I was coated in earth, my hair gritty and my white shirt dusted and smudged with dirt. The world began to come alive as I returned to Mají-jalio’s camp. He stood at the wheel of the ship, turning it absentmindedly as he watched the forest.
“Did you get it?” he asked.
“Better,” I breathed. “I brought his camp upon him. He appears to have stolen some valuables from his crewmates.”
Captain Mají-jalio smiled; my heart skipped a beat in my chest. He released the wheel and walked to his cabin, motioning for me to follow after him. I obliged, and the moment I entered the room he kicked the door shut and went to the rum cabinet. He yanked open the bottom drawer and pulled out a false bottom, depositing the contents of the drawer onto the floor. He dug through the drawer, pulling out curious objects and setting them inside the rum cabinet.
“Captain?” I ventured.
“Dump the contents of your bag on the table Gittoran; I will need to choose a prize from among your spoils.”
I upended the bag and watched the meager collection fall out, a dozen or so coin purses, an oddity of jeweled rings, bangles, a few intricate earrings, and three necklaces. Mají-jalio emerged from his drawer, a stiletto clutched triumphantly in his hand.
“This,” he explained. “Is a blade from the old world. It was enchanted in the forges of the Southern Civilization when the game was only a game. It can pick any lock; shatter any magical shields or barriers. When the Northern raids were at their highest we used it to break pirates out of prison. If you will swear eternal loyalty to me, it will be yours.”
“I would never look to any other colors,” I answered automatically. Mají-jalio spoke as if he expected a mutiny. “The bindings on my hands are my loyalty to the colors, and in turn, to you Captain. What must I do?”
“It is a simple thing,” he said, shrugging carelessly. “The old world was full of pomp and ceremonies when it came to loyalty. It was much more complicated than the crews today. Not all pirates have so staunch a loyalty as yours Gittoran. It is a trade, my blade for something you have stolen for me, a token I will keep with me at all times. We trade; you swear, and as long as you are in my service you shall be held to your word.”
He held the stiletto out to me. I took it, turning it over in my hands to examine its surface. It was warm to my touch, seeming to hum with energy.
“Try the chest in the corner,” Mají-jalio said, “Try it on your own and then with the knife.”
I examined the chest, looking at the iron wrought lock that sealed the lid shut. It was built into the chest, creating a minimal gap that would be nearly impossible to pry open. Despite the lock’s size, my dagger’s blade was too fat to penetrate the opening. Captain Mají threw a series of lock picks next to me. I picked one up, sliding it into the opening experimentally. Moving slowly, I leaned close to the lock and listened to the scrape of metal on metal as I wiggled the pick around. I found the three openings designed for the key, yet my pick could not move any of them. I pressed harder on the lock-pick, and it snapped in my hand.
“Not as easy as the movies make it seem,” Mají said, laughing at my attempt. “No simple bobby pin or skeleton key could open that lock. I’ve chosen my piece.”
I stood and looked at what my captain held in the palm of my hand. It was a thin cut red stone, a perfect triangle in design, just small enough to conceal in the palm of your hand. Mají took a black cord and wound it about the corners. He laid the stone back on the table and pulled out a small dagger. Tugging on the bindings with his teeth, he was able to work an end of the red cloth from his bindings into the open. He cut off the cloth’s end, stuffing the new tail back into his binding. The cloth piece he wound with the cord around the stone, stopping when all was secure.
He pulled a matching cord out of his shirt, a necklace with a glass carnation hanging from it. He removed the flower charm, holding it for a moment in his hand before hurling it at the wall. It shattered, the fragments clinking softly as they fell to the cabin floor. I stared at the pitiful pile, turning to ask Mají-jalio.
“Don’t,” he said coldly. “That contract should have been broken long ago.”
He slid the stone onto the cord and held it in the palm of his left hand. He held the stiletto out to me in his right.
“Do what I’m doing,” he whispered.
I reached out slowly, taking the blade end of the stiletto in my left hand. As I reached out for the stone pendant he dropped it into my palm, closing his hand around mine.
I forgot to breathe at his touch; my eyes darted up to meet his. He was calm, watching my expression as I remembered what was going on. I nodded when I was ready, and he began.
“This world is founded in chaos and manipulation. This sector is a den for thieves and darkness. Yet even in our muddled state of morality, trust may be placed in a bond before the Griffon. Watch our pact, and in this exchange know that while these tokens last, that nothing can break this contract.”
The candles flickered; I could feel a soft wind blowing against my face in the cabin. My grip around the stiletto tightened, I could feel it bite into the flesh of my palm.
“Gittoran Flame Scarlet,” Mají said. “Do pledge your unfaltering loyalty to me, through all the gold in the worlds and all powers possible?”
“Yes sir,” I answered. “My loyalty shall always look to the colors.”
“In taking this blade,” he cautioned. “You are agreeing to serve not as a common vagabond, but as a thief. You will steal whatever is asked of you regardless of crew payment or motivation. Do you still agree to take this blade, one of our objects from the South?”
“I will serve my captain in any way he wishes of me,” I said.
He released his hold on the stiletto blade, and allowed me to drop the stone back into his hand. He sorted out the bags of mint, swept my other finds back into my little bag, and silently opened the door back to the main deck.
“Obsidarian will want to see you once you have slept again,” he warned.
I nodded, stepping away to the stairs.
“Gittoran?” he added.
I stopped, pausing with my hand on the rail.
“Don’t steal from crewmates, even if you do not like them.”