by Claire Frank
“Interesting name for a ship, the Wanton Maiden,” Rhis said as she glanced around.
Rickson grinned, his dimples puckering. “She’s a cheeky girl, full of surprises. So now we find out whether this has all been worth the trouble, or if I’m leaving you and that kid on Raltair.”
“I told you, I have something you’ll want,” she said, keeping her voice casual. For all she knew, the stone was nothing. She glanced around, wondering how she was going to convince him to take them to Altia if the stone was worthless.
“Right, your artifact,” Rickson said. “Please tell me you didn’t leave it behind in your room. I’m all for search and rescue missions, but this is getting excessive.”
Rhis slipped her hand in her pocket and felt the smooth stone. “No, I didn’t leave it behind.” She pulled it out and let it rest in her palm. Holding out her hand, she opened her fingers and let Rickson see it.
He plucked it from her grasp and bobbed his hand up and down, as if feeling the weight. Turning it over, he exposed the symbol carved on one side. His eyes widened, and he quickly locked the door.
“Where did you get this?”
“Does it matter?” she asked.
Rickson glanced back and forth between Rhis and the stone held out in his open palm. “This is one highly illegal piece of rock you carry.”
Rhis resisted the urge to smile. This was perfect. She crossed her arms and watched while Rickson studied the stone.
“Do you know what this is?” he asked.
She hesitated. She didn’t want to admit her ignorance, giving him an easy way to take advantage. “I know it’s worth a fortune.”
Rickson whistled. “I’m going to go ahead and agree with you there. I’m not positive I even know what it is, but I’ve seen markings like these all of one time in my life, and it was the biggest score of my career. Bought me this here ship. So this? I’m betting this is worth at least that much, if not more.”
“I told you I was good for it,” Rhis said.
He looked up, meeting her eyes. “I’m going to have to ask you again. Where did you get this?”
“I came across it in my travels,” she said.
Rickson shook his head. “Oh, no. This is between you and me, honey, and if we’re going to do business, I need the truth. Worth a fortune it may be, but it’s going to take some doing for me to find the right buyer. This is a big risk, riskier than you and that kid, I reckon. So you tell me where this came from, or you and the boy can try your luck on Raltair Island.”
Rhis paused, looking out the window at the sparkling water. After the chaos of the last two days, she could scarcely remember what stories she’d told. There came a point when the truth was the best course. What did she have to lose? “He’s not my nephew.”
“Oh, you don’t say?”
She shot him a glare. “I was supposed to kill him.”
Surprise flashed across Rickson’s face and his mouth drifted open. “Why?”
“It’s my job.”
“So you’re….” Rickson trailed off, his eyebrows raised. “I always wondered about you. Figured you were some kind of high-class thief. Suddenly I’m not so sure I made the right call in helping you.”
Rhis lifted an eyebrow. “I’m not … I’m not here for you, if that’s what you’re concerned about. I don’t wander around killing people for no reason.”
“Okay, but if you have a reason…”
“I’m sorry, did I blink and find myself on a legitimate merchant vessel, or did your eyes almost pop out of your skull when you saw that stone? The illegal stone, if I may remind you.”
Rickson crossed his arms. “I hardly think that’s a reasonable parallel. I may spend a fair bit of time skirting the law, but that’s only because the law interferes with my profits so often. I’m not hurting anyone.”
“No? You must be unlike any other smuggler in the Narobian Sea, then, if you ply your trade without a few well-placed knives.”
“I—” Rickson stopped, closing his mouth and grinding his teeth.
“I’m a professional,” Rhis said. “I’m good at what I do and people pay me considerable amounts of money to do it. That’s all it is. A job. I don’t kill people who aren’t on a contract unless they’re trying to kill me. End of story.”
“But Asher was on a contract.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?” he asked.
Rhis took a deep breath and looked away. “He was a child.”
Rickson let out a low chuckle.
“Are you laughing at me?” she asked.
“There is a shred of humanity in there. Who would have thought?”
Rhis lifted an eyebrow. “It was a mistake.”
“Oh I don’t know,” Rickson said. “He seems like a nice enough kid. Would have been a shame to end him.”
“I’ve walked from one disaster to the next since I made that decision.”
Rickson placed the stone on a wide ledge and opened a small cupboard door. Reaching in, he grabbed two small cups and a dark bottle with a cork in the top. After popping the cork, he tipped the bottle and poured a measure of dark liquid into each cup and handed one to Rhis.
“There’s something here I’m still missing,” Rickson said, as he swirled the liquid in his cup. “How did you go from not killing your contracted target to traveling with him to Altia?”
“The man who sent me sent someone to kill me afterward. There’s a contract out on me, now. I took care of the first attempt, but it won’t be the last. The contract on the kid was for an exorbitant amount of money, which means they want him dead, badly. I figure, if I bring him back with me, I can use him as leverage to get them to cancel the contract on me.”
“Wait, let me see if I understand this,” Rickson said. “You decided not to kill Asher because he’s a child, but now you’re going to take him to Altia and hand him over to the people who want him dead, so they’ll cancel the contract out on your head?”
Rhis tossed back her drink. “More or less.”
“Come now,” Rickson said with a crooked smile. “You can’t be that heartless.”
“I won’t actually let them have Asher,” Rhis said, letting the lie slide over her lips. “But as long as that contract is out on me, I’m as good as dead. Eventually someone competent will come after me, and the boy is the only leverage I have.”
Rickson furrowed his brow as he poured another drink. “So, when you say ‘exorbitant amount of money,’ how much are we talking?”
“Why? You want to bring his head to Altia and collect on the contract?”
He cracked a smile and tossed back another swig. “No, no. I’m happy to flout the law when it comes to moving things I’m not supposed to have, and I’ve been known to take things that don’t belong to me. But murdering for money, that’s a bit much for my taste. No, I’m wondering why. Why would someone pay big money to kill a kid?”
Rhis opened her mouth to answer, but closed it again. The truth was, she had no idea. Why was never her business, so she rarely bothered to speculate. “I don’t know why. Honestly, I can’t make sense of it. He grew up on a farm outside a village no one has heard of. I can’t imagine why the Emperor wanted him dead.”
Rickson spun toward her. “The Emperor? Rhis, you need to learn how to tell a story properly. That bit would have been good to know up front. The order to kill that kid came from the Emperor?”
“Well, the palace at least. Who knows if the Emperor is even involved.”
“But the Emperor, or someone in his retinue, put out a contract on this kid, for….” He trailed off, raising his eyebrows.
“Three hundred thousand Imperials.”
Rickson coughed and put his cup down. “Three hundred thousand? And you didn’t … okay, you’re back to having some humanity again. You have no idea why?”
“I’m not supposed to ask those kinds of questions,” she said.
“I guess that’s part of your job,” Rickson said. “But at this point,
don’t you think it’s worth knowing? If you’re going to use him to get yourself out of trouble, it would be good to know why he’s a target.”
Rhis held out her cup for a refill. She knew Rickson was right. The same thought had been spinning through her mind. Who was this kid, and why would the Emperor want him dead? “You’re right.”
Rickson pointed a finger at her. “See, it happens more often than you might think.”
“The problem is, I don’t have much to go on. I rarely get more than a name and a location when I take a contract. All I know from his parents is that they aren’t his family by birth. His mother showed up on their doorstep, half-dead, carrying a baby. When she died, they kept the child. That stone over there is all I have of his that means anything.”
“Where did he get something like that?”
“It was with him when his mother brought him to the farm house,” Rhis said. “The woman gave it to me before I left with him.”
Rickson walked back to the cupboard and picked up the stone. “If this is writing, you might be able to find someone who knows what it says.”
“Where? As you so aptly pointed out, it’s illegal.”
He shrugged. “Then take it somewhere that values knowledge above all else, even the law.”
“The Atheneum in Elbian?” Rhis asked.
“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Rickson said.
“A side-trip to the Atheneum,” Rhis said. “What’s that going to cost me?”
Rickson flashed a smile and grabbed the stone. “You give me this, I’m yours for the next year if you need.”
“All right,” Rhis said. “You finish your business on Raltair, then we head for Elbian.”
He winked at her. “You’re in charge.”
SEVENTEEN: NOTICES
The Maiden swayed with the waves as the wind picked up. Sailors dashed about the deck, hoisting ropes and lowering the sails. Raltair Island loomed ahead, a crescent-shaped piece of land with a natural harbor and a busy city sprawling away from the waterfront. Watercraft of every shape and size bobbed up and down; the smaller vessels crowded the docks while larger ships sat at anchor in the protected waters of the harbor.
Rhis stood at the side of the ship, looking out over the island city. Calm weather had made for a comfortable trip, but she wondered how they had made such good time with so little wind. Asher stood next to her, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants.
“Why can’t I go ashore?” Asher asked. He leaned against the side of the ship, his face intent on Raltair.
“Because in Varale you got yourself caught by the Guild, and I’m not interested in having to rescue you again,” Rhis said. “You stay here. I need to get a few supplies; I won’t be gone long.”
Asher’s shoulders slumped and he chewed his lower lip, turning away. He could pout all he wanted, Rhis was not going to risk it. She walked over to Ewan, Rickson’s first mate, a man with a thick beard and bald head.
“Make sure the boy stays on board,” she said, pressing a coin into his hand.
Ewan grinned, showing a wide gap in his teeth. “Aye, milady.”
Rhis nodded, turning away. Rickson’s crew was a rough-looking bunch, but they’d largely ignored their two passengers. Hopefully the boy would have some sense and stay out of everyone’s way while she was gone. With one last glance over her shoulder, she boarded the skiff that would take her across the harbor to the island.
***
Raltair had once been a hideout for smugglers and pirates, but over the years had grown into a legitimate city. Although governed from above by the imperial bureaucracy, it maintained an air of duplicity. Unlike Varale, which seemed to be rotting from the inside under the weight of crime and filth, Raltair was bright and thriving. But its well-tailored exterior hid a dark underbelly that Rhis knew all too well.
Rickson had already gone ahead to finish his business dealings, so Rhis disembarked from the skiff and made her way into the city from the waterfront, running through her mental list of items she wanted to find.
She spent an hour wandering through the market, buying what she needed and enjoying the feel of land beneath her feet. Although she had more time before Rickson would return to the Maiden, she didn’t want to leave Asher behind for too long, so she made her way across the marketplace toward the waterfront.
Rhis turned a corner and walked past a wall filled with paper notices pinned to the wood. They flapped in the breeze with a gentle rustle, many with ink so faded she could scarcely make out what they said. A man stood at the end, pounding a small nail to hang up a new notice. A series of fresh papers were tacked beside it, all identical, and the writing at the bottom caught Rhis’s eye.
Rhisia Sen
Bounty: 100,000 Imperials
Dead or Alive
Rhis’s stomach lurched. Above the writing was a sketch in black and gray charcoal that bore a surprising likeness to her face. Dozens of them stared back at her, waving in the wind. Damn those messenger birds. Cormant was moving fast. Running her hand through her hair, she let it fall forward over her face, and darted across the street. She kept her eyes on the ground, suddenly feeling vulnerable and exposed. At any moment, someone could catch a glimpse and stop her, and that much gold would mean a knife in the back as soon as she was recognized.
A man walking the other direction bumped into her as she passed, slamming into her shoulder. With a grunt, she grabbed her arm, wincing at the pain, but put her head down and kept going. The man shouted something, but she didn’t stop as she darted through the crowd, her only thought to get back to Rickson’s ship.
The smell of the sea grew and gulls circled overhead as Rhis hurried toward the harbor. As much as she wanted to run, she checked her pace, not wanting to call attention to herself. Moving with the flow of people, she risked a few quick glances over her shoulder, half-certain she was already being followed. She’d been all over the market that morning. Dozens of people had seen her face. If she made it out of Raltair alive, she’d have to assume it would get back to Cormant that she’d been there.
As she neared the waterfront, the street opened and another wall of notices faced the docks. Her eyes widened. More papers showed her face, tacked up with nails on all four corners, their edges fluttering as the wind blew. With a brief thought for how many scribes Cormant must have paid to copy so many posters, she dashed across the road that paralleled the waterfront and searched for anyone from Rickson’s crew.
Burying herself in her hood, she stood with arms crossed, waiting for the skiff from Rickson’s ship. A few other sailors, returning from errands of their own, loitered nearby. Rhis hoped Rickson was nearly finished with his business, although she knew she’d be relatively safe on board his vessel. At least enterprising Raltairians looking to cash in wouldn’t be a concern. She kept her eyes down while she boarded the small boat and breathed a sigh of relief as the crew rowed her out across the choppy water of the harbor.
As she boarded the ship, a sailor reached out a hand to help her climb aboard. Her feet hit the deck, the motion of the boat making her feel off-balance, and the back of her neck tingled. She let her pack slide off her shoulder and started to look behind, but a strong arm coiled around her chest, crushing her against a solid body. The point of a dagger pricked the skin of her neck.
“That’s right, sweetheart,” the sailor said, his sour breath hot against her cheek. “I saw your face on those notices, and I saw how much you’re worth. We can do this one of two ways. One, you be a good girl and let me tie you up and take you in, and maybe I don’t slit your throat. Or you struggle, and I hand ’em a body. The coin’s the same either way.”
Rhis gripped his arm with one hand, straining her neck to keep the blade from puncturing. “This is a big mistake,” she said.
A few other crew members stood nearby, casting glances at each other as if they weren’t sure what was happening.
“Boles, what the hell are you doing?” one of the sailors said, holding up
a hand.
“I’m taking this here woman,” Boles said. “Gonna collect that bounty.” He pulled Rhis backward, edging toward the side of the ship. “Anyone wants to help and come along, I’ll give you a cut. Not half. I’m doing the dangerous work. But I have a mind to start my own crew. Any of you sorry louts can come with me.”
“I’m in,” said a sailor behind them. Rhis couldn’t tell who it was, but she could feel Boles smile. The other sailors watched, mouths hanging open.
“You all stay put until I’m safely away, you hear?” Boles said, nodding toward the three crew members standing in front of them. “No heroics. A bunch of good-for-nothing cheats is all you are anyway.”
Boles’s grip around her chest was tight and his dagger bit into her throat. His breath was sickly sweet, reeking of rotten fruit. Keeping her grip on Boles’s arm, she reached into her belt with her other hand and slipped a thin needle into her palm.
“Get the rope, dammit,” Boles said, turning toward the other sailor.
Rhis took a deep breath as Boles spoke, then whipped her arm behind her head and rammed the needle in his eye. The dagger dropped from her throat and there was a second of shocked silence as Boles’s arm loosened and his other hand shot up to his face. Then he screamed like a child, his high pitched wail ringing in Rhis’s ear.
She kept her grip on his arm and yanked it around, twisting it behind his back. He bent double, still screaming and clutching at his face, and she wrenched his arm harder. Bone cracked as she pulled, setting off a renewed set of screams. Boles staggered to the ground, his arm flailing uselessly as he fell.
Rough hands grabbed her from behind and she heard Asher’s voice shouting her name. Throwing her weight forward, she bent down and hurled the other sailor over her back. He landed on the deck with a thud, his grunt nearly lost amid Boles’s continued wailing. Rhis wasted no time, drawing a knife with a quick hand. Taking a few steps, she pushed her boot into his back as he tried to stand, smashing him onto the deck.