A woman in a light blue dress offered her jewelry, claiming it came from some far away land Serra had never heard of. While it were pretty to look at, she noticed several imperfections in the design. Some blotches of black could be seen under the metal. The pearls, as well, didn’t seem to hold their bright shine either.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another man with loads of fabric. He called out to the passers that his cloth was of the finest grade. It was plain. Common. Most of the merchants in Adhelm alone had the same material. It did the job, nothing more.
Upon pushing through a crowd, Finn stopped her and inclined his head toward a nearby tavern. Many of Tully’s crew who came ashore laughed and stormed their way in the front doors. Serra shook her head. They’d all be drunk before nightfall.
Serra and Finn were to find a small corner shop at the end of the strip named the Lucky Arrow, which was a shop dedicated to cheap armor and weapons by the looks of it. It bordered the blacksmith’s shop who was banging away with his hammer on the anvil then dipped the blade into a scorching flame of hot coals.
Serra thought often that she should become a blacksmith. With the rumors of war, she imagined there would be many blacksmiths looking for apprentices. Doubtful, though, that they would want a small girl like herself. Finn himself seemed to hold no interest in the trade. He’d deemed it as “unfavorable for coin” once.
The metal arrow under the shop’s name tilted upward to the sky. One of the brackets had rusted off. It added a sense of charm to the appearance. As they made their way through the door, an awful stench filled her nose. Something smelled burned yet wet at the same time, as if they had just had to put out a fire on the leather vests.
An elf greeted them, introducing himself as Terar. He was of average height and a thin build. His hair was pulled back, tied with a band that blended with his dark hair. Despite being in service to the shop’s owner, he seemed healthy, unlike the many other elven slaves Serra had encountered before. If one would ignore the black streaks covering his face.
Finn carefully scanned the area before speaking. “I was sent here to deliver some cargo from a client of yours.”
Terar’s brow lifted. “Oh, and who is that?”
“Sharlea.” Understanding, Terar instructed them to deliver the cargo behind the shop where they wouldn’t be disturbed. Serra and Finn helped him unload the cart then transferred their equipment to a new wooden box. He told them that Sharlea was supposed to deliver the supplies weeks ago then questioned why they were helping in the rebellion.
Serra shrugged. “Long story, honestly. We were told to meet with you about Captain Tully.”
“What did you find out?” Terar crossed his arms impatiently. It made his mistrust in them that much more apparent. Serra felt a sense of guilt that Theren wasn’t with her now. He would vouch for them and their loyalty to the rebellion.
She explained the silver mine and what they had found there. The elves and humans both who were forced to work until death before they held any such release from that place. Detailing what she had seen, she made a point that she didn’t join the captain in the office and the man she saw get executed for his shattered leg.
With no obvious link that Captain Tully was connected or responsible for his people being there, Terar was displeased and had no concern for the humans dying at the mine. This rebellion was about his people, not hers, no matter if both suffered or not. His mouth dropped further into a frown as he mumbled something about a “flat ear”.
“Well, you got about two days before you leave that ship. Find out what that damned captain is hiding. Sharlea wouldn’t suspect him unless she had reason. Do not fail.” He returned to the shop, throwing his dirty rag over his shoulder. He cursed and slammed the door behind him.
Serra rubbed a hand on her forehead. “Caden’s right. What a fun bunch indeed.”
They met up with Theren who had managed to gather all the ingredients necessary for the potion that was in a small sack tied to his belt. The reminder of their deadline made him curse several times. Two days. It wasn’t much of a timetable before they had no other choice but to leave as scheduled. This, of course, was assuming Sharlea’s intel was good. There was a chance that the captain had little or nothing to hide, but Terar seemed to hold no suspicion that Sharlea was wrong.
Serra made a point to not tell Finn exactly how she would get into Tully’s cabin. As her partner, he would relish in the idea that she would be able to manipulate a man’s desire then to drug him into a deep sleep.
As her father, he would curse insensibly at her recklessness then proceed to lecture her how dangerous it would be for her to be alone with such a man. It was a question as to how much Finn could balance both roles in their relationship.
Instead, she explained she would deliver a dessert to him personally when his first mate wasn’t looking. If need be, she would approach the captain early enough before dinner that she would wish to give it to him personally as an offer of appreciation for his kindness.
Theren didn’t argue with her actual plan, but he made his concerns clear. He promised to remain on deck while she was in Tully’s cabin until she exited. That way if the plan failed, he could reach her in time to help her. She felt as though he saw her as nothing more than a damsel in desperate need of a male to save her. She would need to sort that out with him later.
Truthfully, she saw no other way into Tully’s cabin other than taking up his offer. She could complain about her feet, telling him she had forgotten to ask Lord Holin for new shoes while they were docked. Either way, she had to get into that cabin tonight. When Serra saw the crew exit the tavern, she raised her chin and then made her way back to the ship.
Returning to Finn’s cabin, Theren quickly adapted the poison into the vial. Serra stuffed it next to her dagger on her thigh to lessen the chance of it falling out. She rushed to the kitchen to help the cook with the crew’s dinner.
The meal was bland in the best way. It held little flavor and tasted as though it was more dirty water than anything else. The meat seemed a bit old, and the potatoes were diluting in the broth. She added some extra spice to the soup to hopefully deviate the current flavor to a more promising one. As she served the crew their dinner, she was quick to move from one to the other before they could express their complaints.
Serra noticed the first mate gobbled down his serving, only to immediately demand for the captain’s share. She obliged him, but not after she made the offering to deliver it herself. The first mate ignored her, taking the bowl straight up the steps to the captain’s cabin. With the soup no longer an option, she began making the dessert, adding half the contents of the vial and leaving the rest in case the first attempt failed. Theren had only made a small amount, deeming this her only true shot.
As Finn had little desire to learn how to cook a decent meal, she had to pick up and learn recipes over the years from cooks and old maids. At first, she would burn the food to a solid crisp. It took several tries before she learned even the most basic skills. It was difficult but worthwhile in the end.
Once the pie was made, she took a deep inhale of the fresh, warm scent of the peaches. Knowing the captain enjoyed them, she requested Theren to make sure to find them while he was shopping. She took a clean plate then wrapped the pie in a large cloth to keep it warm before making her way to the captain’s cabin.
The first mate was surprisingly nowhere to be seen, but she could hear faint voices from the cabin’s door. He was still with the captain, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. Unsure of what else to do, Serra knocked loudly on the door. The first mate opened it and glare intensely at her.
“Oh, hello, sir! I just brought a small gift for the captain,” she said, trying to sound cheerful and innocent.
“Captain is busy, girl. Go back to the kitchen,” he ordered.
She pulled the pie closer to her, making herself seem small and fragile. “I do apologize, sir. I will send it up later.” Before she took thre
e steps away from the door, the captain ordered his first mate to let her in.
Tully raised from his chair with delight when she showed him the pie, taking in a deep, long sniff of its scent. His eyes widened with glee. A touch of drool escaped his mouth. Waving his first mate away, she noticed an annoyed and unapologetic glare from the first mate. She returned the same attitude, but with a smile.
She pulled out a plate only to realize she forgot a knife.
“I apologize, sir. I seemed to have forgotten a knife to cut it. Let me get a clean knife from the kitchen.”
Tully whipped out his dagger then began cutting a large piece of the pie. He plopped the slice onto his plate. Serra stood back from his desk, trying to avert her eyes from the partially folded map. She needed to play the role of a humble servant, no matter how close she was to finding the information. But the temptation to reach for it bothered her like a bad itch.
“Have you eaten yet, Belle?” Tully casually asked.
The question startled her. “Yes, sir. I ate as I waited for your pie to finish baking.”
“Derek, please. No need for formalities, my dear.” He pointed his open palm to the chair in front of his desk. “Join me.”
As commanded, Serra joined the captain, remaining silent as he made his way to a cupboard where he pulled out two glasses and a bottle of wine. He filled the glasses then pulled up the chair next to her, offering her one of the drinks. She took it carefully, not too eager and not too hesitantly.
The captain raised his glass. “A toast to the future. May it be filled with riches and new friendships.” She forced a smile as she clinked their glasses then took a long drag of the wine. She coughed at its rough taste.
Tully laughed. “I see you are not used to wine. Perhaps I should’ve warned you.”
She pulled out a handkerchief to cover her mouth. “I’m sorry, sir—Derek—Lord Holin very rarely gives his servants wine. I didn’t prepare myself for its aftertaste.”
“I imagine he often makes you serve it more than drink it.” He leaned back on the chair.
“Yes. He wants to give every visitor he has the best hospitality. It’s only on birthdays and special occasions when he lets us have any wine.” Finn had done that for a few years before she turned seventeen. She supposed he was worried she would end up liking to drink as much as he did. One of them always needed to be clear-headed.
“When is your birthday, Belle?”
Serra thought for a long moment. It was still summer as she could tell through the intense humid weather. Her birthday wasn’t until autumn when the leaves would change. She hadn’t been near a calendar to know the exact date.
She shrugged, leaning back in her chair. “In autumn. It’s still a few months away.”
Tully proceeded to ask her more questions such as where she grew up and how she came to be with Lord Holin. All information she had practiced in case he had become too interested. He already knew how she came to be with Lord Holin but wanted to hear more about her early days with him.
While they spoke, he ate the slice of pie he had served himself earlier and complimented her talents. He even went as far as teasing her about keeping her on his ship so that she would make more. Serra forced a laugh at his jokes, feeling dizzy from too much wine. Pretending to take smaller sips, she spit some of the wine back into the glass.
Grabbing her ankle, she groaned at the fake pain she felt in her feet. Despite several glasses of wine, Tully was quick to remove her shoe and began rubbing her feet. “Such little feet. No wonder they hurt so when you’re on them all day,” he said more to himself than her.
His rough hands were gentle, to her surprise, but she couldn’t overcome the urge to kick him in the face. When he saw her reluctance, he smirked. “Ticklish?” Before she could answer, he grazed a finger ever so lightly on the bottom of her foot, causing her to try to stifle an uncontrollable giggle.
Tully released a belly laugh then stopped, clearly amused by her. He grabbed her other foot to massage both her feet at the same time. Her dress slowly inched to her thigh. Quickly, she pulled it down then placed her hand on the fabric to hide the dagger and vial. Serra began to relax at the captain’s touch. She mentally cursed herself for enjoying it, blaming the wine.
Glancing at the pie, she noticed he ate half of it. The potion must be taking longer to hit him because of the food. Theren used to apply the potion to his master’s drinks. Maybe she needed to do the same, but how would she get to the vial without him noticing?
She noticed a small seating area by window. She could use that to her advantage. “Derek, it’s so lovely out. Why don’t we sit by the window and admire the stars? I’ll refill our drinks.”
He smiled wolfishly. “What a lovely idea, my dear. Then perhaps we could… get comfortable on the bed.”
Over my dead body.
“Of course,” she said cheerfully. He hesitantly released her feet, but not after he stuck one of her toes into his mouth. The very action made her jerk, wanting nothing more than to kick that seductive look on his face. She took a sharp breath, holding onto it for dear life as he finally released her from his grasp.
Grabbing the glasses, she watched over her shoulder as the captain sat by the window. She quickly snatched the vial and poured the rest of the contents in his glass. Unsure of what to do with the vial, she dropped it to the floor then kicked it under whatever she could. She clanked the glasses, making it appear she had simply been clumsy before he became suspicious.
“You may have had too much to drink, Belle. Come over here before you lose your balance and fall.” She made her way over to him, giving him his drink. Tully stared at the night sky in a dream-like state. He reminded her of a small boy daydreaming of an adventure. “You know what I love most about the sea?”
“The quiet?” she guessed.
He chuckled. “Well, that too, whenever I can get it. But no. It’s this.” He pointed to the stars. “Here is where you can see them. No matter what happens on the sea, you can always trust the stars to guide you.”
“Do you not trust easily, Derek? I don’t blame you. It’s hard to find trustworthy people in this world.”
His lips curled upward, and his eyes staring at her with a distinct gleam. “You are as wise as you are beautiful, my dear. It’s a sad truth, but sometimes, one may be lucky enough to find someone worthy of that trust.”
“What about your crew?”
He shrugged. “Hirelings. I imagine most of them would betray me the moment they were able. It’s why I have Pete taste test all the food that’s brought to me.” Serra made a mental note that she was right about his crew, and his paranoia of their loyalty. Pete must be his first mate’s name. He must’ve been the only one Tully trusted.
Serra lowered her eyes slightly, making her appear more mysterious. “Except for mine, it seems.”
“It’s hard to resist such a fine-looking girl. Especially one that can bake my favorite dessert.”
Tully leaned against the window, closing his eyes. The potion had finally kicked in, making it only a matter of minutes before he was completely passed out. “Are you all right? You look exhausted.”
“Must be the wine. I don’t drink as much as my crew.” Now that she thought about it, she didn’t see him go into the tavern with the rest of his crew. He was on the ship when she returned. It was a small shore leave for the crew. They certainly acted as though it was shore leave. Half of them returned too drunk to stand on their own feet without having to lean on something.
“Why don’t I tuck you into bed?” He mumbled something she didn’t understand. Moving the glasses away, she helped him onto his bed. She threw a blanket over him then waited until she was sure he was completely asleep.
Satisfied, she hurried over to his desk. Unraveling the map, she took a quill then dipped it into the inkwell, making small notes on a separate paper. The mine they visited was called Slaterock, where he had made a large circle around the name. She carefully traced the map to find ot
her important marks, only to find one other that had a similar distinction as Slaterock.
It was Adhelm. Her home. The marks he made suggested there were frequent trips between the silver mine and the city. It didn’t tell her much other than there was a connection between the two with no clear answer as to why.
She dug through the piles of paperwork to find out more. Most of the paper was filled with notes about the crew. There was even a list of “to be watched” with four names on it: Will, Olyver, Morn, Ray. There was no shock that Morn was on this list. He had been warned to mind his tongue and to do his work. The others, though, she had trouble placing their face. Will, she remembered, had bright red hair. Olyver and Ray were a mystery. She was sure she had seen them, but had never matched their faces with a name.
She repeated the names in her mind then continued her search. Everything else she found was receipts for payments in silver and other goods. Whatever Tully had brought to Slaterock, he was handsomely compensated for his trouble. The paper didn’t distinguish what it was exactly he had brought there. Only the word “shipment” then followed by a number. The numbers were erratic, ranging from three to fifty with no apparent track. The owner of Slaterock must have more information.
The sound of pounding footsteps stopped Serra’s thoughts. Hurriedly, she tried to hide her presence, but stopped as the door flew open. At the door was Pete. Captain Tully’s first mate.
Serra was dragged to the brig below deck. With each step, she worried more and more for the others. Pete had caught her red-handed in the captain’s desk. Despite the urge to fight back, she knew the small knife on her thigh wouldn’t be enough to win. Even if she did, the Blackbird was still out to sea and filled with her crewmen. Her friends and herself had nowhere to go. No way of escape except for a pathetic lifeboat that wouldn’t make it to a port in any decent time.
Rise of the Champion (The Champion Book 1) Page 14