Viper's Creed (The Cat's Eye Chronicles)

by T. L. Shreffler

  A two-masted ship with three decks and several sails, each the width of a rooftop, had just docked in front of her. As she watched, sailors and dock workers began securing ropes to the mooring. A dock boom rested to one side, a lever-and-pulley contraption to unload crates from the ship's hold. This must be a merchant vessel, she thought, interested.

  “See that short man with the ledger?” Burn asked, following her gaze.

  Sora gave a start. She had been so focused on the ship, she hadn't noticed Burn join her. He walked his horse next to hers, one hand on the reins.

  “Yes,” she said, noticing a man with spectacles and a big velvet hat, holding a ledger in one hand and a large quill in the other.

  “That's the dockmaster. He collects a fee from every boat in the port. If you can't pay up, they take your cargo.”

  Sora's eyes widened. A large man in a long blue coat approached the dockmaster. “That's the Captain,” she guessed.

  “Looks like it,” Burn agreed. “They're probably bartering over prices right now.”

  Sora nodded, absorbing the scene. “How much does it usually cost to dock a boat that size?”

  “Oh,” Burn said nonchalantly, rubbing at his chin. “Maybe five-hundred gold.”

  You could buy a house for that amount! She thought, glancing around at all the ships moored to the docks. There were hundreds of them. This city is making a fortune! Everywhere, people walked back and forth, carrying luggage, ropes, nets of fish, shopping bags, tackle boxes. She shook her head slowly. This place is a madhouse!

  Crash took control of their horse, his arms still around Sora and his hands on the reins. The horse walked down the thick wooden planks of the dock, Burn falling in step behind them. Then they stopped. She looked around, wondering why; Crash prompted her out of the saddle. She dismounted and he followed, landing silently. She shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, stretching her legs. She had been in the saddle far too many days.

  They stood in front of a two-story building that looked like an old country house, complete with balconies and smooth white columns. The windows were made to refract light into an array of colors that spilled onto the street. Sora gazed at the tiny rainbow-colored puddles, impressed. Sailors and other characters walked past her, casting sideways glances, probably wondering what had caught her attention; then they continued about their business.

  “What's this?” she asked, looking the building up and down.

  “A hotel,” Crash said.

  “What? Really?” She raised an eyebrow. “It must be incredibly expensive.”

  Crash shrugged, his eyes sliding away from hers. “I happen to know the owner,” he said casually. “It's one of the safest establishments in the city. They have hidden watchmen posted in the lounge and upstairs rooms to make sure there's no trouble.” He nodded to the broad double doors, painted a pristine white. “This is where we're staying.”

  Sora nearly choked. In her past life back at the manor, she might have expected such treatment. But now she was so used to sleeping in the dirt, the thought of stepping foot through those doors seemed wild and unimaginable.

  “Truly?” she muttered, looking over the facade of the building. She was nervous. Perhaps there was a back door they could go through? She hadn't seen her reflection in two days, and if Crash and Burn's appearance was any indication, she was a disheveled mess.

  With that thought in mind, she walked over to the edge of the water, hoping she might catch sight of her reflection. There was a low railing along the side of the docks, and she leaned against it, staring down. It was a good ten or fifteen feet to the water. At this distance, the water was a dark bluish-green, and she could see seaweed and other debris floating beneath the surface. She wondered how deep it was. She had read tales of giant sea monsters with tentacles as big as trees, tempests that could swallow islands, and whirlpools that sucked entire ships into the deep.

  For now, however, the ocean waves lapped shallowly against the docks, almost apologetically. Nothing to see here, it seemed to say. Move along.

  "Did you drop something?" came a voice from behind her. It spoke in a strange accent that she had never heard before. When she turned around, a man with dark red hair and bright blue eyes was standing there. His face was shaped nicely, with a proud chin and a sharp jaw framed by a closely tailored goatee. A large black bird on his shoulder fixed her with a beady eye. Something about him was familiar, and Sora stared, trying to place him. He grinned and the moment of recognition was gone.

  "Well, whatever ye lost ain't comin' back. Sometimes larger things will float in with the tide. 'Twasn't a child, was it?" The man chuckled. "Naw, a joke, 'tis all. And ye best be careful of any hats—the wind will take 'em right off your head! I've already lost seven hats this year."

  At first, Sora could only stare at him, speechless. Then she glanced around. Where exactly had he come from? "I-I didn't drop anything," she finally said, and cleared her throat of its stutter. "I was just looking at the water. You see, this is my first time to the sea...."

  "Fascinating, ain't it?" he said merrily. The black bird shuffled on his shoulder; Sora thought it might be a crow, though it looked larger. The man leaned next to her, looking down at the waves. "Never gets tiring. I remember the first time I saw the Vast. I must've been just a wee babe," he said. “Never ceases to amaze, though.”

  “The... the Vast?” Sora asked.

  “The ocean, dear. Ah, here we go!" The man stretched out an arm and on cue, the bird swooped down at the water, flapping its big wings, and returned with a sopping wet lump of material. The man then wrung it out. Sora identified it as a wide-brimmed brown hat. She stared in amazement.

  “Don't know what poor fellow lost this one, but it looks like a good fit,” he said, putting the wet hat on his head. "What d'you think? Am I quite dashing?"

  Sora tried not to laugh. Was he trying to be funny? "Yes... quite dashing,” she grinned.

  The man beamed back at her.

  Then a black-gloved hand landed on her shoulder, and Sora let out a yelp of surprise. A voice from behind said, "Talking to strangers again?"

  Sora turned around. Crash was standing behind her with a decidedly impatient air. "Burn and Laina just departed. The girl wanted to see more of the city.” He didn't sound very happy about it. "I think we should take care of the rooms before they get back."

  Sora nodded, forcefully ignoring his attitude. "I suppose," she agreed, then turned back to her new companion. "Uh, this man was just, eh, telling me about the Vast."

  "Is that so?" Crash didn't sound at all enthusiastic. He looked the red-haired stranger up and down, from his tall brown boots to his sopping wet hat. He was a good head shorter than the assassin.

  The man nodded at the hotel. “Nice place,” he said, his eyes traveling over them again. “Expensive.”

  Crash's face darkened. "Come on, Sora.” He grabbed her upper arm and wrenched her toward the hotel. "Let's not wait around."

  She tried to pull back, embarrassed. "Hey, let go!" she exclaimed.

  His hold loosened, but it was no less firm.

  She walked away with the assassin, irritated, as the man watched. She felt embarrassed more than anything. When they had crossed to the other side of the street, she looked at Crash, her eyes narrowed. “That was very rude,” she hissed. “We were just chatting.”

  “He could be a thief. You don't know city types. You're from out of town, and it shows.”

  Sora's mouth opened, surprised. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  Crash gave her a pointed look, but didn't reply.

  I'm not some innocent country bumpkin! she thought, but it was only a short burst of anger. She reminded herself that she really shouldn't be surprised by this. Crash had a tendency to think the worst of everyone. He was suspicious to the point of paranoia... but he's usually right, isn't he?

  She shook the thought away. Then he pushed her through the hotel doors.

  The room they entered was bright
and cheerful, although close to deserted. The only occupant was a lady with vivid red hair standing behind a large desk.

  Sunlight streamed through the windows, spilling shards of light on the ground. The floor was not covered in straw like the inns she had seen before; rich blue carpet cushioned her feet. She slightly lifted her boots, wincing at the muddy footmarks they left on the lovely rug. There was an archway to one side, where the carpet turned into a swirling display of pastel tiles; she could see tables and lanterns set up throughout the opposite room. It was a restaurant. But the tables were not made of standard wood; they were of round, sturdy, smooth marble, like giant birdbaths.

  A beautiful tile mosaic of an underwater city filled the entire wall in front of them. Behind the woman at the desk, a staircase led up to the second floor. And from the way the stairs were positioned, it looked like one could walk straight into the mosaic city, up through the tiled front gates.

  As they stood there, a pair of richly dressed patrons in heavy satin robes and scarves walked down the staircase. The woman wore a long, deep purple gown with gold brocade. The man was in a burgundy suit, with a tall feathered hat stylishly slanted across his forehead. Their collars were decorated with the pins and insignia of the First Tier. They glided down the stairs together and passed the front desk, nodding to the desk clerk, who looked up.

  “Have our carriage drawn to the entrance,” the man said curtly as they swept out the front door. Sora caught the slightest glance of distaste from the noblewoman before they disappeared.

  She immediately felt self-conscious. She could remember those looks from the nobles who would visit her manor, usually cast in the direction of a stable hand or a smudge-faced kitchen boy. Her cheeks flushed.

  A bit of motion caught her eye and Sora looked up again. The red-haired woman had come out from behind her desk and was now approaching them. She was tall, lithe, and her blue eyes were trained on Crash.

  “And how can I forget that face?” she said, a strange smirk around her lips. Then she gave Sora a brief nod, dismissing her as easily as a dust mote. “How long has it been? Three years? Four?”

  Crash shrugged. “I'm here to call in that favor,” he said quietly.

  The desk clerk looked uncomfortable for a moment. She glanced around, as though suspecting that the walls had ears. “Now isn't the best time. Business has plummeted due to crime on the docks. It's been a slow season.”

  “Then you have a spare room,” he said bluntly.

  She frowned, a stern look coming over her face. Sora decided that she liked this woman who didn't seem at all intimidated by Crash. “We're also in need of your spare coin.”

  The assassin shifted, standing up a little taller. The woman took a slight step backward, perhaps unconsciously. Sora changed her mind. No one was immune to Crash's presence. She could feel unnerving energy radiating off him.

  A few lanterns flickered in the restaurant. She wondered if that was a coincidence.

  “We'll only be a few nights, until we can secure passage overseas,” Crash murmured.

  “Hm.” Another long pause.

  Finally, Crash said, “I spared your life once. Should I take it back?”

  The woman's eyes darted between them. Her face paled. Sora had a hundred questions wanting to be asked, but she bit her tongue.

  Finally, the desk clerk sighed. “I have a small room on the third floor that's reserved for royal messengers, but it's vacant for now. You can use it.”

  Sora saw the glimmer of a smile pass over Crash's face. “We are grateful.”

  “I'm sure,” the woman said wryly. Then she reached to her belt and undid a large keyring. She picked out a long brass key and transferred it to Crash's hand. “I keep a master key to all of the rooms,” she said. She glanced over them again. “And please, do clean up a bit. We have an image to uphold.” Then, without any further words, she turned on her heel and walked away, exiting into the restaurant.

  Sora waited until she was out of sight, then looked at Crash. “What was that all about?” she asked.

  “A botched job, long time ago. I spared her life,” the assassin replied. “I don't think she likes to be reminded of it.” Then he started for the stairs.

  Sora stared after him and suppressed a shudder. For some reason, his words felt like a slap in the face. Spared her life? Why? Had there been something between them? Or had he been hired to kill her? It left a sickening feeling in her stomach, sudden uncertainty. Just who is this man traveling with me? she thought, her eyes following him. A murderer, for certain. She had always known that about him. Why was she so surprised?

  Her hand traveled to her Cat's Eye, hesitantly touching the stone through her shirt. She and Crash had become friends, yes... she had trusted him with her life on countless occasions. But what kind of friendship was this? Really, they barely knew each other.

  They climbed two sets of stairs to the third floor. The hallways were decadent, with soft, shell-colored wallpaper and little basins for washing one's hands. Crash led her to the right wing of the third story, the farthest room that faced towards the ocean. All of the doors were white and rounded at the top with ornate trim. She waited as he unlocked their room.

  He led her inside, and Sora's eyes widened.

  She felt, perhaps, like she was falling in love.

  Three large windows overlooked the docks and ocean, and a polished wooden floor shone beneath her muddy boots. There was a large marble table and three easy chairs; through the foyer were two hallways leading to two separate rooms, both of which had a view of the ocean.

  One hallway led into an aqua-color carpeted bedroom with two large beds and a white marble bath large enough to fit three people, complete with running water; that was something Sora had never seen before. A white desk and chair stood near an open window, with gauzy white drapes billowing lazily in the wind; two white chests were at the foot of the giant beds. A mosaic of a beautiful mermaid adorned the wall opposite the windows.

  The other room, far more masculine in decoration, had a midnight-blue carpet and two large beds. A black wardrobe and a dark cherry desk were next to the window. The tub was the same size as in the other bedroom, blue marble instead of white, also with running water, both hot and cold. There was a large painting of the surf breaking on the bow of a ship.

  Sora and Crash admired both of the rooms. She walked to the window and looked down at the busy street. Then she walked back into the foyer and sat in one of the big easy chairs. She noticed a basket on the small table, filled with a bottle of wine and a pile of fruit. She wasn't a fan of wine, but she loved peaches, and grabbed one off the top.

  After a minute, Crash sat down too. She smiled at him. “I feel like a queen,” she said jokingly.

  He raised an eyebrow, then took an apple for himself from the basket. “Really? I thought you'd be used to this.”

  “Well... my manor was just as nicely decorated,” she admitted, remembering her large green-tiled bathroom and the decadent silks and scarves draped around her bedroom. “But I never really got the chance to travel.”

  “And is it worth it, giving up all that for a bit of travel?” he asked.

  Sora was surprised by the question. In all honesty, she hadn't thought too much about her manor since leaving it, especially after discovering that the noble Lord had not been her real father. She shrugged, suddenly awkward. “I like my independence,” she said. “I think it's better.”

  She let her eyes travel to a nearby window. From where she was sitting, she could just see the masts of the ships. More worries assaulted her mind. "How much money do we have for a ship?" she wondered aloud.

  "Not enough for four people... even if we can find one heading for the Isles, which I highly doubt.”

  Sora frowned and looked at him. “Why do you doubt it? Aren't there any ships that head that way?”

  Crash shook his head slowly. “The Isles are a tricky place. Sailors believe they're cursed. Then again, sailors believe a lot of things are
cursed. I hear there are a lot of unusual storms out that way.”

  “So what should we do?” she asked.

  “We need to find a captain and a crew foolhardy enough—or desperate enough—to take us there. And that's going to cost quite a bit more coin than just a ticket overseas.”

  Sora sighed in distress, her good mood gone. How were they supposed to make all of that money within a few days? They couldn't stay at this hotel forever, and Volcrian was surely on their trail. She still saw his image in dreams occasionally, his shadow looming out of alleyways or just beyond their campfire, his hands grabbing her from behind in an ice-cold grip. She couldn't tell such fears to Crash or Burn—they sounded silly even in her own head, but they were very real. She really hadn't slept peacefully since leaving her mother's house.

  Thinking of sleep, she found herself sinking back into the easy chair, lured by its soft feather cushions. No, she told herself, trying to keep her dry, uncomfortable eyes open. We have planning to do. We need to figure out our next step. But her body suddenly felt so heavy... and the breeze from the open window was so sweet on her skin... the freshness of the air, the lulling rhythm of the waves. She closed her eyes, if just for a moment....

  Chapter 11

  Crash watched as Sora fell asleep. Her tiredness overcame her suddenly. He was surprised that it hadn't struck sooner—they had been traveling at a relentless pace since recovering the hilt.

  She was beautiful when she slept, her face soft and open. He had the unexpected urge to touch her smooth skin, but he didn't let himself think of that. Instead, he changed his clothes, added a few daggers to his belt, and grabbed her satchel out of her room.

  When he had recovered the bag from the bandits, he had found a letter inside it, along with the hilt. By the crispness of the paper, he knew the letter was recent, perhaps only a month old. It was a request for information. Three drawings of the sacred weapons, instructions on what to do if they were found... and a reward. It was sheer coincidence that the sword hilt had landed in the bandit's hands... but not so coincidental that the Shade were looking for it.