Beggar's Rebellion: An Epic Fantasy Saga (Empire of Resonance Book 1)

by L. W. Jacobs

  Ella spun in the thick air and grabbed the hilt of Ralhens’s sword. While the man remained essentially frozen she swung it out and aimed the point at Pruitt’s throat. That should do it. She stilled the resonance, air melting and men slurring back into motion.

  For a moment—then they all froze, faces shocked.

  Pruitt yelped, and in the brief silence that followed Ella spoke. “You men may have no regard for a woman’s honor, but you will at least listen to the captain when he has something to say. And if you speak another word, Pruitt, I swear to the Ascending God I’ll cut your throat.” Never mind that the sword tip wobbled like a drunk sailor. All she needed was for Pruitt to shut up.

  It worked. Ralhens recovered himself quickly, swinging his pipe at the men. “Stand down! Stand down at once! Sailors!” He gave a shrill whistle and two or three muscled deckhands appeared. “I will have order on my ship! Order!”

  Ella risked a glance and the captain’s face was red—she’d never seen him this angry, or angry at all for that matter.

  “As legal captain of a chartered Councilate vessel, my word is law on these decks, and I say Miss Ella will not be charged nor defamed simply for accusations. You men all attended her with money ready and no questions in your mind, and now when the books are balanced, you turn to me, turn to accusations! Phaw,” he spat, a much coarser sailor coming out for a moment. “I’d wash my deck of the lot of you if I could do it. Back to your cabins, each one.”

  Ella heaved a sigh of relief, but he wasn’t done.

  “And Miss Ella, you’re hereby cast off this ship at the next port for want of proper paperwork, and there’s an end to it!”

  “Wha—”

  “But the next port’s last stop!” a man overrode her. “It’s where she’s going anyway!”

  “And there’s an end to it, I say!” the captain roared, and the men began to back off, under the watchful eyes of the captain’s hefty deckhands. Ralhens turned to her. “I’ll have my sword back now, if you please.”

  Pruitt remained frozen at the other end of the blade, and it took some doing to not give him a nick for his troubles. Ella was gratified to see, at least, that his hands shook and his skin was pale as egg whites. She lowered the sword and handed it back to the captain. “I thank you, sir, for the use of your blade, and more so for taking control of these men.”

  Ralhens met her eyes for a moment, face still red, then shook his head and stormed off.

  Gettels passed her on his way to the stairs. “Our money, woman,” he growled. “Or I arrest you the minute your feet touch dry land.”

  3

  This is not to say all mosstongues are possessed of the same buoyancy of nature as I, but we have noticed a certain consistency between those of the same abilities—the brawlers and their anger, the wafters and their lovelornness, the mindseyes and their general pessimism…

  —Artimus Kellandrials, broadsheet on the philosophy of yura, Yiel 106

  Ella clenched her fists, making her way back to her cabin. It wasn’t fair—yes, she’d lied about licensing, but the work was good, had always been good. And she did it for less than the going rate, anyway. And now they wanted her to repay it? To be left penniless on the streets of a foreign city—or get arrested?

  It was less than unfair. It was scatstains. Maybe some threats could change Gettels’ mind—she could take a ball of yura…

  Or you could pay the men their coin.

  “Never,” she growled, pushing into her room. “Word would spread. Soon, they’d all be trying it at voyage’s end.”

  Consider what you’re risking. What will happen if the Councilate logs you in jail?

  She stopped. “You’re saying even if I scare Gettels…”

  It won’t matter. Some other man among them will go to the lawkeepers, and they’ll arrest you on suspicion. Then, when they learn your real identity—

  Fear struck cold in her belly. “We can’t let that happen. Gods. But currents take it!” she cried, fists balling again. “The nerve of these men! I should at least throw their books over the side, all of them.”

  You will do nothing of the sort. If you want to keep working on boats like this, if you want to ever have a chance at the Thousand Spires, you will pay them back and move on.

  “And smile while I do it, right?” she snarled, a black wave coming over her. “Scatter that!” Ella slammed her door shut, hands itching for something to break.

  After some time her breathing calmed, and logic replaced raw anger. When it did, she saw that LeTwi was right, that there was no way she could risk discovery. “Scatstaining bureaucrats,” she muttered, rolling aside and digging for the Markels statue. “Why did I ever think it was a good idea to work for them?”

  The statue wasn’t there. Ella checked the desk drawer, checked the bookshelves, checked her pillows in case she’d put it next to the shank.

  Nothing. “What the hell?”

  It has to be somewhere.

  It wasn’t. Ella searched the entire room, chest tightening, rifling through places she hadn’t looked all voyage. The bust was gone. “What the hell?” she demanded of the empty space, heart pounding.

  Then it clicked: the open door. She hadn’t left it unlocked—she never did—but it had opened without a key when she came in. Someone had broken in.

  And stolen her savings.

  Ella sat down on the bed, hard. No savings. That meant no money to pay the men back. No money to return to Worldsmouth. No money to eat, even. Her chest seized. “Who would do this?”

  Anyone. Pruitt. Olgsby. Ralhens. Hell hath no spite like a publicly fooled man.

  “Stains!” Ella pounded a fist on her thigh. “They can’t do this to me!”

  They can do anything they want. You know that.

  “But steal my savings? How did they even know where to look?” Her eyes blurred, and she rubbed an arm across them. “Either way, they’re still on the ship.” Cold determination rose up, replacing the fire in her chest. She would timeslip. She would find the man who did it, tie him up tight and—

  Currents. No money meant no yura, either—she’d kept her balls in the bust, too. “Then I’ll do it without resonance,” she growled. “Catch them in the night—”

  Ella. Slow down. Hurting them won’t get you anywhere. And you still have some slip left—the ball you ate. It will stay in your system another few hours at least.

  “Right.” She could act now—not attack the men, yes, obviously that was a bad plan, much as she wanted to. But search their cabins, maybe. Find the bust and the culprit and at least get her money back.

  There’s not nearly enough time to search all of them in slip, even if you manage to get in.

  “But I have to do something. Have to look for him. The captain. Captain Ralhens will help me.”

  Don’t count on it.

  Ella left her cabin, not bothering to lock it—nothing of value there but books now, and she doubted any of these men would take much interest in Markels or LeTwi. An older man was coming from abovedecks, not one of her clients, but they’d exchanged a few words on the voyage. “Excuse me,” she asked. “Have you seen the captain?”

  The man cleared his throat, giving her a disapproving look, and brushed past.

  Word had spread, then. It tended to on a ship this small. “Excuse me,” Ella snarled.

  It was the same with the other men she passed, searching the upper decks: sideways looks or outright refusals to help. Hell hath no fury like a man hit in the pocketbooks, she thought. LeTwi ought to have written that.

  Finally, a swarthy Seinjialese crewman answered her. “Believe he’s belowdecks, Madame,” he said in rural Yersh. “But in a piss of a mood. I wouldn’t bother him.”

  Ella didn’t have time for moods. She either found her thief now, before Ayugen, or the money was gone and she was in jail. She made her way belowdecks, passing the crew quarters with its reek of sweat and must. She had only been down here a few times in her two years on the ship, but knew the ca
ptain’s quarters were at the front. She wove her way past the midships with its stacks of goods and luggage, found her way to his door and knocked.

  No answer. She knocked again.

  “Who is it?” Ralhens’s voice was muffled through the door, but he sounded calm.

  “Ella, sir.”

  “Ella?” There was a long pause, then the door opened. Ralhens looked better, but still not his content self. “There’s no sense begging for it, Ella, I made my choice. You’re off in port tomorrow.”

  She smelled dreamtea on his breath. That would explain the calm. “It’s not about that. Someone’s been in my cabin. They took my savings.”

  “Your savings?” He looked around, then stepped aside for her to come in.

  The interior was dark, the room too low for windows. A few lanterns swung on the wall, casting shadows in time with the swaying of the ship. “Yes. Sixty-six hundred moons.”

  The captain let out a long whistle. “That’s how much you’ve been making? Prophet’s teeth. And now you want it back.”

  “Of course I want it back!”

  Ralhens sighed, leaning on the desk that lined one wall. “All in coins?”

  She nodded.

  “I don’t know how you’ll get that back, Miss Ella, even were the ship more inclined to you. There’s no way of proving it. The men are hot for your blood as is, or your money at least.”

  She looked at him, eyes narrowing. “Do you think they’re connected? The men getting angry and my robbery?”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Could be. But who knew about your savings? Did you show ’em where it was?”

  “No!” Ella took a breath. “I always kept it hidden. Someone must have figured it out.”

  The face at the window last night.

  “Stains!” she cursed. Ralhens gave her a look. “Ah, sorry. I just—I realized someone might have been looking in last night.”

  He nodded slowly. “I’m sorry to say it, Miss Ella, but I think your savings are gone. Anyone smart enough to set the men against you, then get into your room while you were gone, they’re going to have hidden the money by now. And if it’s your word against theirs…” He left the thought unfinished.

  “You won’t take my side.” It was only half a question.

  Of course he won’t.

  “I’m afraid I have to be fair,” he said. “This is the first I’ve known of your savings, and you have plenty of motivation to want to get back at some of these men. Everyone here has coinage saved up for Ayugen. That’s part of the reason they take my boat, to keep away from the lower class that’d be wanting to steal it.”

  “Someone clearly did anyway,” she said, bitter. “And nothing you can do for me? Not even an announcement or a search?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  Ella looked around, grasping for something else. “I won’t be able to give you the normal tip. I am clean dry.”

  He nodded. “I believe you. I don’t have to believe you, Miss Ella, but I do. There’s just nothing I can do about it.”

  A thought came to her. “Can you at least board me back to Worldsmouth? I have savings there, and I can work up passage in the meantime—”

  Ralhens pursed his lips, eyes sad. “I can’t do that, Ella. Wish I could. It’s been pleasant having you on board, but I can’t risk it. I could lose my boat.”

  Of course. Of course he could.

  “But I can pay you,” she insisted. “In Worldsmouth. Just get me back there. Think about how much I have, if I made sixty-six on this trip alone.” He was shaking his head. “Double! I’ll pay you double! Triple!”

  Ralhens stood. “I’m sorry, Ella. I can’t do it. Now if you’ll kindly leave me, I have paperwork to prepare for port.”

  She bit her lip, trying to think of something, anything she could say, but there was nothing.

  “Thanks, then, Captain. I mean it.” She didn’t but knew she should, knew she would if things were different.

  He nodded and she left the cabin fuming. “Not a decent man among them,” she growled.

  Not a decent man on the globe.

  It was a quote from LeTwi’s books. Ella sighed, unclenching her jaw. “I’ve handled worse than this. Far worse.”

  Still, she had few options for the time being. There was little chance she could find any more work in the next twenty-four hours, let alone enough to pay the men back.

  So, what, then? Jump ship before they reached port and lie low in some Achuri village? Change identities again?

  The idea had a certain charm, especially lying low in a traditional village, but leaving her books behind, and leaving this ship full of men to spread her bad reputation meanwhile…

  You’d never work as a calculor again. Not without dyeing your hair, at least.

  She grimaced. “If I could find my way back to Worldsmouth, I could use some savings to try a different ship.”

  LeTwi tsked. If you let these men leave the ship disgruntled, I have no doubt the tale of a false calculor on a riverboat will chase you wherever you go.

  “Their accounts,” she said. “I know the details now, remember most of them. If I could blackmail them somehow…”

  On other voyages, maybe, but I don’t recall anything particularly illegal or salacious this trip.

  He was right. “Then how am I going to pay them off in the next twenty-four hours? I’m literally broke. Unless—” There were times when she wasn’t sure whether a thought was hers or LeTwi’s, but as long as they were good, it didn’t matter.

  Patronage.

  “Yes.” Plenty of men onboard had offered her permanent work under their patronage, and not all of them had been abovedecks today. While they’d likely heard by now, still a few might be sympathetic—Olgsby, Densfeir, Tannets, Odril.

  It would essentially be indenture, using your patron stipend to pay these men off.

  She clenched her teeth, still furious about it. But there was a time for fury, and a time to do something real. “Yes,” she said. “It will. And the minute I’ve made that much plus the cheapest fare back to the capital, I’m gone.”

  Tannets barely had his head around the door when his eyes widened. “You!” he crowed. “I heard about you!”

  Ella stood in the hallway of the first-class cabins, hair braided and knotted in the most recent Worldsmouth fashion. She wore her most expensive Yersh gown, full-length and colorful, giving her that irresistible mix of intelligence and sex. She hoped. “Don’t believe what you hear, Elbrus. I’ve come to take you up on your offer.”

  “Offer? You’re a fake!” His voice was wheedley.

  Ella kept the grimace from her face. “I am a calculor, Elbrus, as you know. And I am tired of this ship life. I would work for you.”

  Elbrus Tannets’ face shook, as though unable to hold the level of his outrage. “The papers!” he cried. “They said you had no papers!”

  Not too likely Elbrus had been behind her theft, but since she was here, and Ralhens wasn’t going to do a search, she might as well try. “Oh!” she exclaimed, looking left.

  Oldest trick in the book—he looked left too.

  Ella struck her resonance, air gelling around her as her power took effect. Elbrus would notice nothing unless he was looking directly at her, beyond maybe a brush of air and a momentary vibration. In that time, she had slipped past him, rifled through the room, and come up with no bust or suspicious pile of coins. Coins there were, but she couldn’t bring herself to steal from an old man. She still had options.

  Ella slipped back, the old man’s face swinging glacially back toward where she’d stood. “Oh!” she cried, stilling her resonance. “I thought I saw someone down there.”

  He shook his head again. “You’re not the woman I thought you were.”

  “But Elbrus—” She spoke to a slamming door.

  “Okay,” she said to the empty hallway. “One down, three to go.”

  Olgsby gave her a bit more time, though he didn’t actually invite her in. “You lied to me
,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t abide liars.”

  “But I can balance books, Colonel,” she said. “You know my work has always been good. Take me on and I can get licensed, if that’s what you need.”

  “My first wife was a calculor—that’s how we met.” Grief crossed his face, hidden as quickly under a military mask. “It would be a disservice to her name—”

  Ella dropped a ring, and Olgsby bent to pick it up for her. Ever the gentleman—he seemed too nice a man to have arranged for her theft, but she had to check. She struck her resonance and slipped past him.

  Nothing—not that she really suspected the Colonel.

  Ella slipped back and thanked him for the ring. “Paenter”—she laid a hand on his arm—“we can work out the details in Ayugen. You will have your assurances.” She moved closer. If he missed his first wife... “And you’ll have a calculor again.”

  Olgsby seemed to fold for a moment, the rigidity of his military training pulling down under his sorrow. Then he snapped back. “No!” He shook her arm off, grimacing. “My Meyuna would never lie! I saw her papers! Get out! Out!”

  Ella walked down to the second-class berths, feeling a little sorry she’d touched on his sore spot. “Two left. All I need is one.”

  Densfeir took one look and slammed the door again.

  That left Odril. She’d intentionally saved him for last, since he was the meanest, the oiliest, and would be the least pleasant to work for. “Well,” she said, taking the balcony around the tight-packed rows of second-class berths, “No time for pleasantries at the moment.” It would only be until her debt was repaid.

  Odril opened to her knock and scowled. “You. I heard about you.”

  “Forget what you heard, Odril.” She leaned slightly forward, remembering the way he’d ogled her body. “You need a calculor. I need a patron. And you know my work is good. Unless you don’t want me around.”

  It seemed to have the intended effect: a greedy look came in his eyes. “But you don’t have a license. I can’t use you.”