After traveling through the tight dark hall that snaked from the captain’s quarters to stairs leading on deck, Niya breathed easier as she stepped into the cool night air.
The stars were bright pricks of light as they spanned the endless black sky, the sound of waves hitting up along the ship loud in contrast to the quiet deck.
The calm sea must have only required a thin crew this evening. She was thankful for the restful energy floating around her; it allowed her gifts to settle from the earlier scuffle with Burlz and Prik.
Speaking of, Niya glanced over the ship, hoping she wasn’t too late. As she found Kintra’s familiar silhouette at the far starboard railing, relief washed over her. The quartermaster was talking to Boman, the Crying Queen’s main navigator, who was a burly, gray-bearded old man who seemed to prefer responding in grunts rather than in words.
At their feet rested a stuffed sack.
Prik, thought Niya with a smile. She started toward them. Despite how the slimy pirate had completely and utterly repulsed her, she couldn’t help but notice his rather darling leather vest. A vest that she believed worked much better with her outfit than with his. Now with Prik dead, he had little use for such an item. And as Niya had learned early and practiced too often, bloodstains could be cleaned.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Alōs glanced up at the tangled mess that was Barter Bay. Which, in fact, wasn’t actually a bay but what it would look like if every sailing vessel on the Obasi Sea had come crashing together to make a floating city. Massive clusters of ships, knotted and roped together, some stacked five stories high, rose proudly from the water. Crisscrossing hanging footbridges decorated the skies, helping civilians get from one destination to another. Boats were hoisted up by winches to the sides of halls. Others sat beneath oared awnings, creating vendor stations that lined the river avenues. Trinkets from all over Aadilor dangled off fishing line, while shop owners shouted competing prices at the boats that clogged the snaking waterways, carrying visitors. Others turned to call out to those who walked along the boarded sidewalks above.
It was a massive anthill of movement, and though thousands of anchors held it to the seafloor, Barter Bay still had the tendency to drift, making its location a hunt every time. But Alōs knew these waters better than most and could predict the currents well enough to find the city in one go.
As they squeezed by other vessels traveling in the tight waterway, hungry seagulls squawked overhead, mixing with the soft lapping of waves against his rowboat. Alōs sat on the back bench, Kintra beside him, along with Saffi and Boman—his helmsman—rowing. Niya sat at the bow, the afternoon light painting her red hair a warmer amber as she took in their surroundings. By the way she studied the intricately stacked ships, peered into every vendor’s stall, and asked Boman and Saffi more than a dozen questions, he could gather this was her first visit.
“You’ll draw us a pickpocket looking so doe eyed,” grumbled Boman in response to another one of Niya’s queries, his gray hair tangling in the sea breeze. “Haven’t you seen a city before?”
“Certainly,” replied Niya as she stared up at a woman who leaned out of a port window they rowed past, breasts bursting from her low neckline, enticing customers inside, “but that doesn’t stop my wonderment when visiting new ones or old.”
“Well, at least put on a scowl along with that wonder whatchamacallit,” grunted Boman. “We’re pirates from the Crying Queen, for the Obasi Sea’s sake. We can’t be seen looking so green.”
“I think Niya can handle herself just fine,” said Saffi. “Or did you not hear about Burlz?”
Alōs had told his master gunner that she had lost two of her artillery team last night. But not surprisingly, Saffi had taken it in stride. She had seen and lived through worse, after all. She would certainly live through this. It also helped to hear that Niya would be working double duty until they could find replacements. While Prik’s execution would go unquestioned by his crew, seeing as he’d stolen from the lot of them, it was not Niya’s place to take Burlz’s. Sure, he’d attacked her first, but the appropriate punishment for such action was saved for the captain and crew to vote on.
She would have to learn their ways and accept them if she wanted such a night not to be repeated by others.
“I could have taken that squid,” Boman snorted. “All hot air and thin skin, he were.”
Alōs bit back a grin listening to the old man. Boman had perfected the art of a displeased mutter. A quality Alōs found rather charming. It was almost an added bonus that he also happened to be the best navigator on the southern seas. He had been the first and only one Alōs trusted to sail his beloved Queen.
“I’d have paid to see that,” laughed Saffi.
“Then show me your coin, girl, for if that corpse still be on board, I’ll happily prance with his shadow.”
“Save your energy for tonight’s task, old man,” Alōs said to Boman as they came to dock at their stop. “Afterward we can talk of you dancing with the dead.”
“Aye, Cap’n,” said Boman, tying up their boat before they each stepped onto the wooden walkway.
The sun had dipped beneath the jagged stacked buildings, casting a pink hue to the small sliver of sky visible in the tightly built city. Lanterns were being lit, twinkling honey gold along port windows and guiding their way up the planked path.
“Saffi and Boman.” Alōs turned to them. “Make your way to Fate’s Fall to secure what we need. We’ll meet you there later tonight.”
“Aye, Cap’n.” His pirates departed down a side street, disappearing into Barter Bay’s labyrinth.
Alōs led the way down another busy street, Niya and Kintra following in silence as they walked a thin alley. The planked floor wobbled up and down with each of his steps as it sat above the flowing sea beneath. After ascending a spiral staircase at the end, Alōs stepped onto the second street level. This area was even more crowded, the sea air mixed with the heavy scent of bodies. It was the Trinkets and Trades District, a place where citizens from all over the world came to pawn items, make deals both legal and illegal, and trade in materials and knowledge. Barter Bay was a city where things were brought so they could be left, ties to the original owners wiped away, all for a promise of sailing away with fatter pockets and a clearer conscience.
Alōs had been one of these patrons once, which was why he had to be smart with how he was to get what he needed tonight. The item he hunted was from a trade many, many years ago, and he’d meant it never to be traced back to him. He hoped the information he had procured was true and the trader was still in residence here, but more importantly, he hoped that her nightly vices had not changed.
“Where are we going?” Niya appeared at his side and kept pace with him as she eyed a group of Pilgrims, men and women dressed in red robes, loitering along a wall. They chanted the teachings of the lost gods, or what they believed them to be, while blowing the ash of burned prophecies from their palms. A large cloud struck a passing woman, and without pause, she turned and punched the nearest Pilgrim in the face.
The echoing yells of the fight faded as Alōs walked on.
“Well?” Niya prompted.
He glanced her way. Niya’s hair was halfway pinned up this evening, the rest a wave of red down to her waist. A waist that Alōs noticed with dark amusement was now tightly cinched with Prik’s old vest, her white shirt underneath cleaned. It appeared she’d even polished her dagger hilts at her hips.
She must have been excited to finally get off the boat, he thought, be around other people, as most of his crew was after such a long sail.
“We’re going to a shop,” he said.
“What kind of shop?”
“One that sells items.”
“Come off it, Alō—I mean, Captain,” she corrected sourly. “If you need my help, you’ll need to tell me why.”