by Pete Draper
The boy was backed into a corner, trying to hop onto the rooftop by kicking a wall. Cassi leapt up. Grabbing his ankle, she tossed him to the floor with a crash.
“Let’s see your face.” Cassi held the sword to his throat.
The boy lifted his hood, long black hair spilt out. “Please, I… I’m sorry. Please don’t hurt me.”
Cassi’s arm shook. The quivering sword nearly took his eye out with the tip near to his cheek. She thought about cutting him, scarring him. Maybe a nice diagonal line on the edge of the cheek, or a curve the whole way around; she could even widen his smile and make it crooked.
She shook her head. It wasn’t worth it.
“Fucking do one,” Cassi hissed.
He ran off with a smirk on his bony face, like he knew something she didn’t.
Cassi turned, seeing Rojey behind her, holding a knife to her throat. He grabbed her wrist with a grip that felt like sandpaper wrapped around a vice. Her sword fell to the floor with a clang. Cassi sucked air between her teeth as her arm was twisted. Wincing and grimacing, she felt the clicks in her wrist. His grip constricted, it felt like a burning rope was twisting and tightening around her arm.
“Your money,” Rojey demanded. “Or I break it.” He yanked the arm towards himself to show he meant business. Cassi let out a grunt.
“Okay, okay.” Cassi reached for her bag. “Take it!” She held it out.
Whipping his arm forwards like the head of a snake taking a bite, Rojey snatched it. “The sword too.”
“That’s my papa’s sword, you can’t have it.” Cassi stared into his dead eyes.
She looked at the katana, it was made of pure silver. More importantly, her papa had entrusted her with it.
“I wasn’t asking.” From a violent thrust, the shock shot straight to her shoulder. Cassi took in an icy cold breath through her nose, smelling Rojey’s stale wine breath. His unassuming eyes had turned vicious, his plain face was now built upon rows of venomous curves. He licked his cracked lips.
“I can’t reach,” Cassi’s eye watered. He twisted the arm tighter until she let out a sharp cry.
“Try.”
Cassi leaned down; her twisted arm outstretched behind her. She bent over with a fingertip on the blade. “I can’t reach,” Cassi hissed.
He tightened his grip, shoving her forward until she nearly fell face first. Cassi wrapped her hand around the blade, cutting her palm. She stood, a thick blob of blood rolled around her finger, splashing on Rojey’s white shirt when she handed the sword over.
“Nice doing business with you,” he said. Smiling to himself as he counted the coins, he seemed unconcerned with the red teardrop-shaped stain in the middle of his shirt. “Now go on. You don’t have friends in the Citta Bassa any more.”
“I’ll be back,” Cassi spat.
“I’m shaking in my boots.” Rojey waggled his foot, making the gold buckle of his boot jangle. “I pay the secturion guards well. They look after me.”
The tall columns of the building were curved into heart shapes. The white marble Amica Palace rose above jagged cliff faces on the hill beside the Citta Alta; the wealthiest section of the city was filled with rows of the most expensive apartment blocks, standing high over Puritudo.
Taylan pointed, putting on his Zernando voice, “I want this palace to be the most beautiful in the Arrizean.”
His accent changed back to that of the dopey builder, “What should we build, oh Lord of the Lightning?”
“The building shall be built according to the golden ratio. To the left, there shall be two hundred and twenty steps, to the right, two hundred and eighty-four.”
“I understand why you would want to use the golden ratio, but why these numbers?”
“Because, my dear boy, two hundred and twenty; and two hundred and eighty-four are amicable numbers. This building shall be a symbol of my undying love for Complessa.”
Carilyo’s eyes followed the steps, the ones on the left were much higher than the right, “So that’s why they look like that, I never knew that.” The gardens were pretty, filled with bright colours and climbing plants gripping tightly to the walls. The flat roof sloped down towards the sea, giving the highest floors more shade, three bell-shaped towers sat above it.
“Puritudo is quieter than ever,” Taylan said, looking at the deserted streets that would normally be overflowing with foot-traffic at this time of day. “What happened to this place?”
“It’s the season,” Carilyo said. The wind pushed through his hair, making the beads clap together. Dust spat in his eyes. The overcast sky dulled the day, turning the trees to a pale grey.
“Or everyone has left this place,” Taylan sneered. “There’s nothing left here. Cassi will be lucky to find anything worth selling. We should have gone to the markets in Cathis, they’re always bustling.”
“The markets of Cathis are full of slavers, it’s sad having to see de auctions. Puritudo is de pinnacle of de Arrizean,” said Barolos, “Always has been, always will be. I’d rather be here dan Cathis, you number-crunching prick.”
“Barolos, we should be respectful, don’t insult Taylan’s religion.” Carilyo couldn’t keep a straight face though, snorting through the last word. He took the bottle out of his bag, then looked around to make sure there were no secturion guards watching. It was illegal to drink in the streets after all.
“Horseshit,” Taylan said. His eye lit like magma. “Nobody likes Kataly, except you Katalians. Everyone who has any dreams or aspirations leaves this wretched place as soon as they can. Even Gianlo hated this place, he visited me in a complex dream, telling me how he much preferred Traki.”
Carilyo took a swig. Taylan was spoiling his good mood.
“But does Cathis have de best artwork? De painting of Alissa?” Barolos asked, gesturing past the Centro Storico at the Galleoso Gallery with a chunky, creased palm full of blisters.
“Let’s go and see it, it has been a while since I have,” Carilyo suggested.
“Great idea,” Barolos said. “Let’s show Taylan some Katalian culture.”
Puritudo was a city built on the River Rex, there were seven districts, each was like its own little island separated by bridges. The shopping district, the Centro Storico was much busier than the docks. People with brightly coloured clothes and hair dyed in all manner of unnatural colours passed by.
They strolled through the Centro Storico. A perfect looking couple walked by, holding hands, looking more in love than ever. The woman’s pale blue dress rippled in the wind, clashing with her pink hair. She leaned towards her lover. Carilyo wanted to throw up when they kissed.
After taking a detour through the gardens and under the hedges cut like castles, the trio crossed Merco Bridge. Either side of the street were dazzling pink and purple flowers; climbing plants decorated the wall. Further up the white streets was the Galleoso Gallery, where the painting of Alissa was.
There were so many marble steps to climb, Carilyo had to catch his breath halfway up, years of excessive drinking had destroyed his fitness.
Inside, the room smelled of honey and flowers, a light orange glow filled it. Carilyo glanced at the paintings in the foyer.
“What the fuck is this?” Taylan pointed at the ugliest painting the three of them had ever laid eyes on. With a jovial grin on his face, he adjusted his eyepatch to cover his good eye, covering the missing one with a hand.
The black background was filled with random white and blue shapes. It looked like a five year old had tried to paint a man, with far too much attention being paid to the private parts. “I’m not impressed with your Katalian culture.” The Trakian turned his head in disgust, sliding the eye patch back.
They went into the next room, gold glittered through the air, but the art was even worse. The sculptures of naked men and women were bizarre round shapes, each feature was a giant indistinguishable pebble. One sculpture’s penis looked like three tiny bubbles.
“This is supposed to be art?” Taylan
sniggered. “I could do a better job with my eyes closed.”
“Eyes means you have two,” Carilyo’s face wore the smirk of a man who was way too pleased with himself.
“Fuck off.” Taylan scratched dandruff from his dull hair, then twizzled his forked goatee. His lip lifted on one side, showing that vulgar hyena grimace his ugly face often wore.
“What the fuck is this?” Carilyo waved his arms in frustration, looking at the warden demandingly.
“Hey! Fuck off! It’s the new exhibit by Tasselyo.” The warden shrugged, though he looked blasé. “They say he is the next big thing.”
“Puh.” Carilyo considered the loathsome artwork, one man had a cone for a head. “Where’s the real art?”
“Through the next door, and up the stairs to the painting of Alissa.” The warden nodded, then rolled his eyes.
“I have not been impressed by your Katalian culture so far,” Taylan bluntly said while climbing the steps with a hand on the marble handrail.
“Wait until you see the stricken ship.” Carilyo led them into the next room, looking at some of the smaller ships with their pretty coastlines, then he came to his favourite.
His eyes widened like they had the first time he saw it. “I’ll never tire of looking at this.”
The colours were dark but vivid. The ship was black, the bow sharpened into a knife. Sails curved into thorny spikes; each edge of the mast looked like a spear. Navy blue waves swept beneath with salty white ripples painted delicately above jagged electric blue lines; they curled into fingers beneath the hull, like a giant was about to grab the ship and shake it. Each light fingernail was surrounded by a dark shadow. The rippling waves spread down the deep blue fingers, fading at the knuckles.
“Truly beautiful.” Carilyo wiped a tear from his eye, all his struggles were summed up in one stunning picture.
Barolos grinned as he took it in.
“I don’t understand it,” Taylan said. “What is it supposed to be? It is stupid, a ship with a giant hand under it.”
“You do not see it,” Carilyo said with a sigh. “Open your heart, your feelings. Then look again. What does it mean to you?” He gestured passionately with both hands.
“It means nothing.”
Carilyo sighed, lowering his head. “Then perhaps it’s not the picture for you. I look at it, and I see all my troubles, all my struggles. All the things I couldn’t do. Maybe I am the Captain of this ship. Look at everything he’s fighting against, that others do not see.”
“Well said Carilyo,” Barolos said.
Taylan snorted, “Come on, let’s look at Alissa.”
They shoved through a crowd to the huge painting which filled a wall in the next room. She was beautiful, that was true. But Carilyo didn’t feel the same as he had the last time he saw her. The bright gold and red bit his eyes, like a mosquito trying to draw blood. There was too much emphasis on her jewellery, not enough of her inner beauty.
“I always thought she was supposed to be humble.” Carilyo’s eyes tried to see the beauty in the picture but was blinded by the sparkling, glittering jewels that overpowered her. “Why is she covered in gold?”
Taylan and Barolos shrugged. The other visitors looked at her with awe.
Back on the ship, Carilyo had treated the crew to some red wine, though he didn’t like the taste himself.
“What is taking her so long?” Carilyo tossed salad leaves into his mouth, then bit the skewer of chicken, tasting the tender, sticky flavour on his tongue, the sesame seeds gave it a tasty finish. The sticky chicken salad was a Katalian speciality, it was the one thing Taylan didn’t complain about.
“You shouldn’t have taken this job.” Taylan’s sweaty combover had lifted, showing the shiny bald head, the row of black rings in his earlobe swayed. His dark spot of a nose stuck a long way out from his face.
“Not without Cassi’s approval especially,” Luco added.
“Fuck what Cassi thinks, or Barolos for that matter,” Taylan said. One cheek squeezed up into a dirty grimace. He necked the glass of wine with a gulp like water trickling down a grate, then helped himself to more. “We should know what it is we’re transporting. It better not be dangerous, or something that could get us in more trouble than usual.”
“Relax boys, everything shall be fine.” Carilyo smiled, flicking the long sun-kissed hair out of his face. “Have I ever gotten us in trouble before?” He tossed a chocolate dusted almond into his mouth, then quaffed his rum, the mix was sweet and bitter on his tongue. The fleshy ulcer fought again, giving him a final reminder of its existence.
“Well.” Luco and Taylan shared a frustrated sideways glance.
“Everything shall work out, and you’ll get to see Argosa while you’re at it. You’ve always wanted to go there Taylan. It shall be an exciting journey along the way.”
Taylan nodded. “That is true. I just hope we get there. Those new Rockland frigates are quicker than ever.”
“What about when Cassi finds out whatever you have down there?” Luco asked.
“She shall not find out.” Carilyo stared through the gap between his two companions, seeing the dull clouds, before another sip of the bitter dark rum.
“She will,” Taylan said. “Your sister is determined. When she wants to do something, it gets done. You have a better chance of reciting C to sixty places than keeping a secret from her.”
Carilyo’s stomach rumbled, it hadn’t had anything but alcohol in there for a couple of days. He let out a belch, thankfully managing to keep the chicken down. A warm sweat covered his body.
Just then Cassi stormed up the ramp to the ship, fury burning in her eyes. Her hair was ruffled, her makeup was ruined, her silk trousers were dirty and torn.
“What’s the problem?” Carilyo asked, munching on another almond in the hope it might settle his stomach. “Are we ready to go?”
“Nothing,” Cassi huffed, her stare made him shiver. “But we may be here a little longer than expected.”
“I thought you couldn’t wait to get out of Kataly? I thought you were bringing goods back to smuggle.”
“What does it look like I’m doing!?” Cassi screamed her lungs out, flipping her hands up in the air.
It looks like you’ve come back empty-handed. Carilyo almost said it, his lip wobbled.
“One fucking word Carilyo!” Cassi snapped, the dagger in her hand waving viciously. “And I’ll slice you open.”
Carilyo raised his hands nonchalantly. “Then I guess we’re staying in Kataly a little longer.”
Getting Even
Damned heat. Heat brings sweat; sweat made her clothes stick to her. It made her make-up run. Worst of all was the stench of body odour; that filthy market stank of it. Despite all the shade, it was hotter than a baker’s oven down there.
Cassi took a gulp of water. She couldn’t believe she’d fallen for the oldest trick in the book. Her clenched fist shook with rage.
She stared herself down in the mirror, “You’re pathetic Cassi, you let that toad of a man steal your papa’s sword.”
Her eyeliner was smudged, a layer of sweat formed on her brow. She hated Kataly, hated the heat, hated Rojey. Getting even was going to be sweet.
The door flung open.
“You,” Cassi pointed at Varleo. The little deckhand’s eyes turned to stone. “You’re coming with me.”
He froze on the spot.
“What are you standing there for?” Cassi snapped. She tucked the steel sword into her red leather belt, it was too big, too heavy and too clunky. “Let’s fucking go, we have work to do.”
“Why am I coming along?” Varleo asked. His scruffy hair and baggy eyes gave the impression he’d just woken up.
“I’ll tell you what I want you to do when we get there,” Cassi grunted.
The Citta Bassa market was busier now, there was more security too. Guards stood at either end of the market while a couple of others patrolled.
“Wait here,” Cassi left Varleo at the ent
rance. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Rojey had exchanged the bloodstained shirt for a clean one. She’d loved to slice that filthy smirk from his rough face.
“Business as usual, eh Rojey?” Cassi tilted her head to one side, a hand firmly over her bag, the other gripped the sword hilt. A couple of city guards passed on their patrol.
“Anything you would like to buy Cassi?” Rojey nodded at the guards with a smile in the corner of his crooked mouth.
“Is she bothering you?” The taller of the two secturions asked; he was built like a bull.
“No, all is fine.” Rojey grinned. “She is going on her way now.”
The guards stood between her and Rojey, a hand on the hilt of their swords; they were much bigger than hers. They had armour too, shiny steel plates sloped down their bodies, the black scarda triangles in their helmets were fused together with gold. They’d cut her to pieces in seconds if she started any trouble.
“Do we have a problem?” The other asked, leaning forwards, the sword slid out a fraction. He was fresh-faced, the scraggly hairs beneath his lip looked like pubes. Maybe she could take him, but not his friend.
Cassi put on her prettiest smile, “Of course not, I just came to say hello to my old friend.” She turned for the exit, clenching her fist so tight the tendons felt like they would snap.
Back at the entrance, Varleo was still standing where she left him.
“Varleo!” She snapped; the boy was daydreaming. He shook his head like a wet dog, making the same slapping sound Carilyo did when he did it. In her irate state, she had an urge to smack him across the cheek but managed to restrain herself. He’s not Carilyo.
“Here’s what I need you to do.”
She handed him a bunch of sects and setags from her bag, sending him to Rojey’s stall to look around. The skinniest, scrawniest boy in the crew would be perfect bait.
“This better work,” Cassi sighed to herself. “That prick already has a load of my money, and Papa’s sword.”