Beggar's Rebellion

by Levi Jacobs

  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 101

  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 fishscatter. 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 Councilium 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 Prophet scatter 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 threw herself on the bed, aware she was being childish, unable to stop it.

  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. “Fishscatting bureaucrats,” she muttered, rolling aside and digging for the Markels statue. “Why did I ever think it was a good idea to work for Councilate bureaucrats?”

  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 forced their way 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.

  “Mothershatterers!” 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—

  Prophets. 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 customers, 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, nasty words. Hell hath no fury like a man hit in the pocketbooks, she thought. LeTwi ought to have written that.

  Finally one of the crewhands, a swarthy Seinjial, 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 found her way belowdecks, passing the crew dorm 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 captain’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 more 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 yura on his breath. He must have taken some to calm down, quiet his self-talk. “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 marks.”

  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. The one you think you saw.

  “Fishscatter!” 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 sid
e.” 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 was 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, it really has, but I can’t risk it now, you know that. 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 some paperwork to prepare before 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 lay low in some Achuri village? Change identities again?

  The idea had a certain charm, especially laying 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 dying 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.”

  You’d be working under indenture, paying off the money they use to repay your fees this voyage.

  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. “I will pay off my debts under indenture. 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, old.

  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 Tannet’s 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. “Huh?” she started, 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. “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, 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.”

  Densfair 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 likely 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.”

  “We can get someone to sign for me, that’s common enough. You know my work is good.”

  He worked his hands, but she detected a n
ote of calculation. “I could lose my job.”

  She cocked her head. “Or you could make your job a lot easier. I’m well trained, Odril. I can help with whatever work you’re doing.”

  He fidgeted, stealing a glance at her body. “I can’t pay you much.”

  “I don’t need much. Pay off these men and I’ll get you double your money back within a month.” That may have been a stretch, assuming she found the thief, and extra contracts outside work…but she was desperate. Better a stretch than getting arrested.

  He swallowed. “You’ll stay with me. In my house. And do my work first, attend me at meals, I—I have a contract already written up.

  Already written? He turned to get it and she struck her resonance, searching everything out of his direct gaze. Nothing. Who was her thief then? She’d have believed it most of Odril. Ralhens? One of the sailors? She slipped back. “Why do you have a contract?”

  He grinned. “I actually have a whole team of calculors working for me, processing Alsthen’s books. You’ll fit right in. Just sign here.”

  Ella scanned the document. It was bad, the payment worse, and had some troubling clauses about her personal hours. But it was still better than imprisonment and discovery. What other choice did she have? If things got too bad, she could always timeslip her way free.

  If you can get more yura.

  Ella took the pen, LeTwi radiating disapproval, and signed.

  4

  It’s whispered the Titans have yura, that they’ve been using it for years. There must be some in the western mountains. How else would they be using their abilities?

  --Kellandrials, Collected Broadsheets, Yiel 97

  The city was dead. Carts, hawkers, and goodwives streamed around Tai, Ayugen bustling on a market morning, but it was still dead. The ghosts of war were everywhere: walls charred from the town burning, buildings laid on broken foundations, tiny red altars set into eaves and ledges, figures of ancestors inside. The people were still in mourning, three years on: orphans begging with blank eyes, laborers from the mines too pale for the light of day, women walking with heads down, muttering to themselves. Muttering to whoever they'd lost.