The Captain padded over to the window, refastening her belt as she looked out, confirmed their position. “You can wait here. As far as they’ll know I’ve been preparing you.”
Tyler stopped tucking in his shirt. “Preparing me for what?”
Irena grinned and planted a kiss on his lips before dancing on past. “You’ll see.”
~
“You all know we have a new crew member. Enough time has passed that we can call him one of us, rather than an outsider.” To Tyler’s surprise a few cheers broke the silence, “However, I haven’t forgotten certain…procedures, that have become tradition on this ship. As such, Tyler, welcome to initiation.”
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“Don’t worry, I am fair. I choose the tasks, and I set them according to the talents of those who perform them. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”
Jim grinned, raising his voice to address the whole crew, “Later today we’ll be docking at Whitecliff. A quick stop off before we continue on our way. For most of you it will be a chance to relax and spend your hard earnings. For Tyler, it will serve as a test.”
Irena took over, “The council who presides over this island took something of mine once – payment for a debt. Or so they claimed. I’ve never quite forgotten or forgiven. But they are a powerful port, and fall under the Oriental Prince’s waters, so it is not worth my interfering. However, if someone who is not associated with me were to be able to infiltrate their chambers…”
Tyler looked out over the waters, at the city that greeted them. Whitecliff was so named for the pale cliffs that bordered it, though the buildings themselves were a mixture of black paint and flint – the hardest thing in the chalky soil. Some had been built from paler stone bought in from other areas, but for the most the city stuck to its roots. Painting the beams black was customary, a traditional technique to protect the wood from the permanent damp of the seas. Gorse and heather were about the only vegetation to be seen, giving no indication of where the timber came from to support the hulking constructions. The harbour was deep, a channel dug out long ago to allow for large ships to make it to the jetty. The decks shook as the anchor was lowered. Tyler turned back to Irena and Jim. “What is it that you want me to steal?”
“A compass.”
“A compass?”
“It has…sentimental value. You have twenty-four hours.”
“Fine.”
“Don’t you want any more information?”
Tyler grinned, “That won’t be necessary.” He leapt down to the jetty, allowing himself a glance back. It was worth it just to see that smile on Irena’s face. Twenty-four hours. He snorted. He was a Master Thief. He’d be back before sunset.
He strode through the crowds, sticking to something just above an amble. Never run if you could help it – that was one of the first rules. People who are running get chased. He was in no hurry. He’d already sussed out the most likely looking building for the council chambers, it was to that he headed. Anything of value would be held there, under guard, probably with some of the best security in the city. Tyler grinned. He couldn’t help but look forward to it. It had been a while since he’d been out on a job.
No one glanced at him twice as he strode into the reception of the grand building. He was wearing a maroon shirt, dark trousers, boots that were perhaps a little scuffed, nothing fancy. It didn’t matter what he was wearing, it was all about personality, confidence. He moved with purpose, silently daring anyone to challenge him. Tyler strode through the first door he found, closing it gently behind him. He listened for a moment to see if there were any shouts or sounds of pursuers. Nothing. The room he’d ended up in was a courtroom of sorts. It was empty, luckily.
Ignoring the slightly uncomfortable itch – the last time he’d been in a courtroom it hadn’t exactly gone well for him – he went to the back and found the panelled door that the judge would normally enter by. Through this door was a corridor and, as luck would have it, an open office in which was hanging a black judges robe. Tyler tossed it over his shoulders and fastened the clasp. He was not going to turn down a perfectly good disguise when it was offered up to him so freely.
“You there.”
Tyler turned smoothly, plastering a harmlessly confused expression on his face.
“Are you the new hire?”
“Indeed, pleased to meet you Milord.”
“Nathaniel wasn’t it?”
Tyler nodded.
“I thought Lord Filmch was supposed to be shadowing you, no doubt he’s buggered off somewhere to dump the load on someone else.”
“Actually Milord he was in the process of taking me to view the collection of seized goods – but I’m afraid I was a little tardy, and my attention caught this beautiful painting, and I seem to have lost him.”
“Well, no harm done. He does seem to have the habit of hurrying off, I’m afraid. Still – I can point you in the right direction. I’m sure you’ll catch up to him.”
“That would be very kind of you Milord.”
“Continue down this corridor, and when you hit the stairs go down two levels. You can’t miss it.”
“Much appreciated.” Tyler strode off at a pace before the man could offer to escort him.
It was a risky move, they were bound to find out he wasn’t Nathaniel sooner or later. It meant his time was even more limited, he couldn’t afford to still be here when they discovered there was someone posing as a judge in the back rooms of the council.
He found the staircase, and headed down two flights as directed. Tyler bit at the inside of his cheek. He was faced with two choices, left or right. He went for left. A little further down the corridor he was faced with a rather imposing looking door – something which just screamed vault. Tyler grinned. It was locked of course. He was yet to replace his kit, he’d have to make sure to do that soon. The gap it left was noticeable, that lack of the familiar weight of his picks and pins. He’d not always had the luxury of a tailor-made kit though. He knew how to make do.
Tyler took one pin from each cuff, and one from the back of his hair. He’d wrapped another longer pin inside his boot, which he drew out carefully, not wanting to cut his foot. The thin metal was sharp, it would work just as well to cut a man’s throat open as it would to open a lock. He lined up his tools and set to work. It took a while, a certain amount of patient jostling of the scraps of metal, listening to the clicking of the internal mechanism, as well as making sure no one was coming up behind him unawares. Many a thief had been caught out by being too intent on unlocking their goal, and paying too little attention on their surroundings.
Tyler gave the door a nudge, twisted one of the pins a little further to the right, then felt the lock give. He slipped his tools back into their hiding places before slipping inside, planting a small wedge of wood into the door before closing it behind him. That would stop him from getting trapped in here at least.
Satisfied he would be able to escape, Tyler looked around. This was definitely a vault, but not the sort he was looking for. No sign of contraband or anything that resembled seized goods, unless they had the habit of emptying their prisoner’s purses. Which was probably likely as well. Despite himself, his fingers prickled. Though he’d learnt early on that paper was more valuable, he still felt the lure of gold. He ran his hand over the nearest bullion bar, then managed to tear himself away. This was not what he was looking for. He let the door click shut behind himself. At the other end of the hall another vault door clamoured for his attention, the brother of the one he’d just left. He was experienced enough to know that this did not mean the lock worked in the same way.
He fumbled a little as he found his tools once more, he was running out of time, opening the wrong vault had cost him.
Tyler swore as the lock jarred, and twisted the picks into yet another configuration. He shoved his shoulder into the door, kicking it. The picks slotted into line. Sometimes a bit of a kick was all it required.
The door opened. This time he’d been right. He wedged open the door, hid the tools back away, and hurried through the shelves.
There was everything you could think of in here: towers of books, every weapon imaginable, drawers stuffed with jewellery, even something that looked intriguingly like a mechanical bird. But no compasses, yet. Tyler narrowed his eyes, and scoured the room. There were centuries worth of things in here, he expected that any time they found something they didn’t know what to do with they’d store it in here, things that would be too noticeable to sell off, things that they hadn’t decided if they were valuable or not, but were interesting enough to not dispose of. He raked through it all, not bothering to disguise his path, though he highly doubted there was any order to the collection. His eyes caught a leather pouch.
Tyler froze. He tended to know when he’d found what he was looking for. Other thieves would call it luck. He thought of it as intuition.
Reaching out, he slipped open the clasp and tipped out the contents. It was heavier than he’d expected. The compass was silver, a pattern of knotted ropes trailing over the lid. Tyler pressed the clasp. It popped open cleanly, revealing a striking golden interior, one side inlayed with a map of the night sky, the other with a beautifully intricate compass, the arrow of which was a tiny silver dagger. Tyler turned it in his hands and clicked it shut again. It was a compass at least. But how was he to tell if this was Irena’s? There could be any number of compasses in here. He rubbed his thumb over the lid, and flipped it over.
We will always be Wolves
Tyler smiled. This could only be Irena’s. He slipped the compass back into its pouch, tucked the pouch into his shirt, and went back to the door. The wedge found its place in the back of his shoe, the door clicked shut. There would be no trace of his having been there, beyond the suspiciousness of a stranger who claimed to be Nathaniel. It would take them a while to figure out what was missing, and by the time they did Siren’s Call would be nowhere in sight.
Tyler took the steps two at a time, going one floor higher than he’d descended. More offices. He abandoned the judge’s robe on the back of a chair, hurried back to the stairs, went down one floor, and strode confidently to the largest doors he could see. As he’d guessed, these doors opened out into the first hall. He didn’t falter, just kept striding to the door that would lead back out to the street.
He didn’t stop as he felt the air on his face again, nor as he took his first step back out onto the cobbles. He took a convoluted path back through the streets, taking turns he didn’t need to make – just in case. Only after he caught sight of the Siren’s Call’s flag atop her mast, the red swords on a field of black, did he allow himself to smile, and let himself slip into a casual swagger.
He passed a fruit stall, tossing a coin to the tender before grabbing up an apple, and taking a bite of it. He was finishing off the core when he strode up onto the deck.
By the looks of it most of the crew had dispersed and were enjoying the perks of being on land, that or sourcing supplies for the ship. Malcolm glanced up, tilting his hat back to get a better look as Tyler approached.
“She here?”
“You done already?”
Tyler shrugged, “I’m a thief.”
Malcolm opened his mouth a few times, then nodded at the captain’s quarters. “In there.”
Tyler nodded, containing his grin. He paused at the door, and knocked.
“Come in.” Her voice was muffled by the wood. She didn’t look up as he stepped inside, “Malcolm I can’t make head nor tail of any of this, write in capitals or something, your writing is awful.”
Tyler cleared his throat.
Irena’s head titled up. Her eyes widened only a little. “You?”
“Not quite the welcome I was expecting, but I’ll take it.” He took the pouch from within his shirt, and tossed it to her. She caught it in one hand, dropping the quill.
Irena barely breathed as she opened the leather pouch and tipped the silver compass out into her palm. She turned it over, rubbing her thumb over the inscription, before flicking it open. She smiled, closed the compass, and looked up at Tyler. “Show off.”
He grinned, and made himself comfortable in the chair opposite her. “Not heading into town?”
A guilty expression flickered across her face, “Strictly speaking I’m not allowed in Whitecliff. The crew are fine, I just have to stay on deck. That was the agreement.”
“You have history with the Oriental Prince? Even I know that’s not a good thing.”
“Fortunately having powerful parents comes in handy when powerful men take a disliking to you. He is an associate of my fathers, so he leaves me alone, as long as I don’t cross the line.”
Tyler nodded at the compass. “How did that get into his hands?”
“Over confidence on my part.” She shrugged, “I’ve never claimed to be perfect.”
“Really?”
“Shut up and go lock the door.”
Some time later, after one interruption from Malcolm knocking at the door, which Irena dealt with in an absolutely seamless fashion, barely batting an eyelid as she concealed her half naked body behind the door and had a quick discussion on accountancy, both Tyler and Irena lay on the bed, sheets tangled about their bodies. He knew he had a stupid smile on his face but he couldn’t help it. Tyler ran his tongue over his teeth, tasted metal, and tried to shake off the urge to have a cigarette. This was the time his old desires would come back to haunt him, remind him of what he refused to let himself have anymore. Maybe it was a control thing, but he felt if he couldn’t keep up his own ban on tobacco then he’d cave at anything. So he ignored the pang, and decided to distract himself in other ways. “Why did you come to the prison that night?” If wasn’t a question he needed an answer to, more of a test, to feel out how she’d respond.
“I went to find a Master Thief. The watch boast too loudly about their exploits.”
“And when you met me?”
“I knew I wanted you.”
~
They hadn’t hung around at Whitecliff, late that very same night Tyler felt the ship lurch as the anchor was hoisted back up and they ventured back out into open water. They saved the celebrations for a mooring a little further along the coast, far enough for Irena to be safe to put her foot on solid ground. While the seas were ‘free’ the same couldn’t be said for the coastline, and as much as Whitecliff was under protection of the Oriental Prince, the majority of this coast actually belonged to the Wolves, and specifically Irena. Ollie explained that his grandparents tended to leave alone the whims of the land these days, leaving their Armada’s commander, Irena herself, to deal with any trouble land dwellers may cause. This meant she was the one more likely to hop along the coastline, if just to keep her mark known.
Tyler sent the dice clattering across the table again, the drink was flowing, the music was soaring across the decks. Negrita and Cat were dancing amongst some of the crew, but understandably they were the ones who drew your attention. Negrita really loosened up after some alcohol, Tyler didn’t think he’d actually seen her smile freely until this moment. Anya, Milon and Blue were all up on barrels singing something with more curse words than lyrics, and only sometimes in tune to the music. Anya’s infectious laugh rang out, making Tyler grin even as he drew his attention back to the game.
He was more or less breaking even so far but he’d have to withdraw soon. Truth be told he wasn’t a great player when he didn’t cheat, and he couldn’t and shouldn’t cheat after ingesting this much rum. It made his reactions slow and clouded his judgement. Just this last one, then he’d stop. He ran a coin through his fingers, flicking it from knuckle to knuckle. It was a distraction, not for him but for the other players, and if he was worrying about his own reaction times being lower he should take into account their own. There were a few bleary looking eyes around the table now.
He called, watched for their tells, and flicked the nearest dice beneath his cup. His heart steadied
. None of them spotted the switch. After collecting the money he forced himself to stand up, to ignore the lure of the clatter of dice and give himself the rest of the night off. A wise thief knew when to turn away. A wiser man knew not to gamble with a thief, but there you had it.
He whistled under his breath to the music, and swiped himself another bottle of rum. He’d regret it in the morning, he knew that. But it was good rum, and good music, and good company. He was having fun. He hadn’t expected to ever enjoy being a pirate this much.
He had never planned to stay on Siren’s Call for long. It was always meant to be a temporary thing, an opportune moment to disappear from land for a while, before making his triumphant return and exacting revenge on the git that had turned him in. But here, now, there was no tug to return to land. It could have been the booze that was sending his head spinning, save for the fact that it only happened when he looked at Irena.
Chapter 12
Aftermath
Tyler felt like someone had put a grenade in his brain and shoved in a couple more before pulling the pin and letting it all explode. He wasn’t quite sure his head was still attached, or at least he wouldn’t have been had it not been hurting like hell. His ears were buzzing and his stomach was cantering around like it couldn’t decide where it wanted to exist. Throwing up hadn’t helped. He sighed and rubbed at his temples, able at least to put up a hand in greeting as Blue sidled up alongside him.
“Bad one?”
“Does it look good?”
Blue laughed, and Tyler had the urge to hit him for not feeling as shit as he did right now. But if he moved that quickly he’d probably fall over, so he resisted. He at least managed to reach out to take the steaming cup of coffee that Blue offered. It tasted like mud in his mouth, but at least washed away the worst of the post-alcohol breath. Pips clambered up from below deck, smiling at her partner as he waved. She took one look at Tyler and spared him a pitying grimace before knocking at the meet room door and heading in. “Blue?”
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