There is a possibility, however, that Draxen doesn’t even know the map is on board. It belonged to his father, who is a descendant from one of the three ancient pirate lord lines. (I am, of course, descended from one of the others.) Lord Jeskor may not have even told his sons about the map. No matter. The map has to be on board. Jeskor would have had it here when he died, and Draxen’s quarters used to be his own. They’re most definitely the first place I should look.
I peek up over the last step of the stairs, observing the deck. It’s hard to see, as the moon is almost new. Naught but a sliver of light shines down upon the dark deck of the Night Farer. The ship was once a standard caravel ship, a type of vessel used for maritime exploration. Most pirates steal them from the land king’s own armada. Then we make adjustments to fashion the ship to our own liking. I can see that Jeskor has had the rigging redone. He’s exchanged the traditional lateen sail on the mainmast with a square-rigged sail. Smart, as it’ll give him more speed. I also noted, while I was back on my father’s ship and watching the Night Farer approach, that Jeskor’s added a figurehead below the bowsprit. I doubt the land king has ever had large carvings of women fashioned to the fronts of his ships. He’s much too practical for that.
There are only a few men above deck. Someone’s at the helm, a man sits in the crow’s nest, and a couple of others roam the deck to ensure all is well. I can tell exactly where they are, because they hold lanterns out in front of them.
Draxen and Riden will already be in their quarters. Assuredly sleeping. They just made an impressive capture—they will have celebrated. Now they’re likely sleeping off their drink. I anticipate tonight’s venture going over smoothly.
There are two separate levels above deck at the stern of the ship. The lower level likely holds Riden’s quarters. The captain’s will be off the aftercastle.
All I need to do is get past the man at the helm. Luckily for me, the man seems drowsy. He lazily leans against the railing while holding the helm with one hand.
Draxen’s doors are likely unlocked. He wouldn’t need them locked while he’s in there. Unless he’s paranoid or mistrusting of his crew. He didn’t seem to be either sort to me, so I should be able to get right in.
I crouch on the deck beside the stairs that lead up to the second level. I wait for the man’s head to loll to the side. Standing on my toes, I carefully creep up the companionway. All is well until I get to the last step, which creaks out a sound so loud in the silence, it feels as though I could have heard it from belowdecks. I feel my body go rigid at my mistake.
The sailor at the helm jerks awake fiercely, turning his head toward the sound. Toward me. “Blast it all, you gave me a start! Please tell me you’re here to relieve me, Brennol.”
He’s too tired, and the sky is too dark for him to tell who I really am. Quickly, I play along, lowering my voice as much as I can. “Aye.” I keep my response short. I’ve no idea what Brennol sounds like, and I can’t risk my voice being off.
“Thank the stars. I’ll be off, then.”
He heads belowdecks while I stand there. I need to hurry before the real Brennol shows up for his shift. Without another thought, I slip inside Draxen’s quarters.
I spot him instantly, lying on the bed. His face is turned away from me, but I can see the steady rise and fall of his chest. He’s out. A candle burns softly near the bed, offering the room a little light and warmth. The place isn’t filthy, but neither is it exactly tidy. This is a small blessing, at least. It’s much harder to mask thieving when tossing a clean room. It’s easier for the owner to tell if something’s been touched.
Now I get to work, starting at the desk, where he has various papers and maps strewn about.
The map I seek will be different from the others. For one, it’s older. It’ll be fragile and darkened with age. Also, the map will not bear the language of the common tongue. Its language, too, is more ancient. There are few who know it. Lastly, the map is not complete. It is one of three pieces, separated long ago and dispersed to the three pirate lords of the time. With the three pieces united, the bearer will be able to find the legendary Isla de Canta, an island heaped with untold treasure and protected by its magical occupants, the sirens.
It’s not anywhere on the desk or near it. I checked each drawer for false bottoms and hidden compartments. I move on to the cupboards where he keeps his clothes, rifling through every pocket in each garment. I feel a desperate need to wash my hands afterward, but I squelch the urge.
Instead I continue to scour the place. I pick at each wooden panel in the floor to see if anything is hidden underneath. I lightly tap the walls, listening for irregularities that hint at secret openings. I strike the last wall a bit too harshly, and Draxen rolls over in his sleep. Thank the stars, he does not wake.
Deep sleeper, that one.
Lastly I check under the bed. He’s got a few things here. Thick woolen stockings, a broken sextant, a telescope.
When I want to sigh in exasperation, I swallow instead.
It’s not here. It’s not anywhere in this room or the adjoining washroom and sitting room. And that means it’s somewhere else on the ship. But the ship is enormous. There are countless hiding places. And I will have to check them all until I find the map.
I’m going to have a miserable time of it.
Opening the captain’s door quietly, I peek my head out. I’ve spent over half the night. No point in doing any more searching now. Might as well return to my cell for some sleep.
Brennol seems to have made his appearance, and he looks wide-awake. He has both hands placed firmly at the helm. How to get past him? If I simply walk out, he’ll notice I’m not the captain. I’m too short.
If I could just make it down the companionway, he probably wouldn’t take notice of me. But it’s a good ten feet away. I tiptoe back into Draxen’s quarters and search for something to use.
Eventually I find a copper coin. Perfect. Back at the door, I place the coin over the top of my thumb and flick it toward the port side of the stern. Brennol turns his head in that direction, leaning forward and squinting. Quickly, yet silently, I make for the stairs on the right and descend them, remembering to skip the step at the top.
When I hit the deck, I slam my back into the wall behind the companionway, ducking out of sight. I think I took the final step too loudly. And Brennol is bound to be even more alert now. I should wait a couple of beats before heading belowdecks.
A door to my left opens.
The door to Riden’s quarters.
He looks first to his left, then to his right. “I thought I heard something. ’Fraid I’m a light sleeper. Didn’t expect you, though.”
I have only a moment to register the fact that all he has on are a pair of breeches before he reaches for me.
I have nowhere to go. Between the walls and the stairs, the only way out is through him. And I suppose it makes sense to simply let him catch me, even though my instincts scream at me not to.
I want to be here. I have a job to do. It’s okay to let him catch me.