The captain had disappeared into his cabin soon after the capture of the carrack and had yet to emerge. Aimi was on the verge of going to see him when Morley caught her and put her to work scrubbing the deck of the carrack. Despite her wish to remain bloodless, Aimi found her hands and knees stained red. Never before had her decision to turn pirate and join The Phoenix’s crew seemed so real.
Now, with her shift over a good hour ago, every bone in her body aching, a weariness that would put the restless dead out of sorts, and the knowledge that her next shift was only a few hours away, Aimi wanted nothing so much as to crawl into her bunk and forget the world existed. She stopped halfway across the deck of The Phoenix and glanced towards the captain’s cabin.
Aimi’s better judgement screamed at her to keep walking, to drop down the hatch to the crew quarters and reward herself with some much earned sleep. Aimi had made a habit out of ignoring her better judgement. Her knock on the captain’s door was not well received. After a moment’s silence, Captain Stillwater barked out a couple of words, and though Aimi couldn’t entirely understand them through the wooden slab, she was fairly certain they weren’t an invitation to enter. She tried the handle and found the door unlocked.
“My mistake,” the captain said, glancing up from the bucket he was hunched over. “I didn’t realise where you’re from, ‘fuck off’ means ‘please come and interrupt me’. I’ll remedy the situation immediately. Unless the ship is on fire, there’s a mutiny in progress, or Reowyn himself has appeared on my ship to reap his fill of souls – go. Away.”
Aimi shut the door behind her and leaned against it. Captain Stillwater stared at her and sighed. “Part of the agreement of you serving aboard this ship is that you follow orders. My orders.”
Aimi nodded. “I thought you might need to talk.”
“I don’t.”
“I think you do.”
The captain lifted his hands from the bucket and dripped red-tinged water onto the deck of his cabin. “Do you even… I mean, you are actually the most… argh!”
“Good.” Aimi forced a cheerful smile onto her face despite her exhaustion. “Now we’re past the denial. You shouldn’t wash your clothes in salt water.”
The captain nodded. “I don’t exactly have spare fresh water to hand. What we do have is for drinking, not for washing.”
“Well, you’d be better off using spit than salt water.”
“Oh, really? Well, as you’re obviously the expert, would you like to come over here and wash the blood out of my jacket?”
Aimi held up her hands to show the blisters she’d earned scrubbing the deck for hours. “Not really.”
“You’re the one wanted to join the crew. Don’t go complaining just because Morley actually puts you to work.”
Aimi raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t complain.”
Captain Stillwater went back to washing his jacket.
“You know you murdered that man today?” Aimi knew she shouldn’t have mentioned it, but she needed to know why it had happened. The rest of the crew may be content to shrug off the murder, but she wasn’t.
“I murdered a lot of men today,” the captain said distantly. Aimi realised she was tense, gripping the door handle behind her with both hands. “We all did. You too. You might not have dealt the killing blow, but you helped us catch up to them, and that puts you as responsible as the rest of us. Congratulations, you’re a pirate and a killer.”
Aimi didn’t like to think of herself as a murderer. She’d dealt out a few cuts and bruises in her days, but nobody had ever died from those wounds. The idea that she might be responsible for another person’s death sat leaden in her gut.
“When I was young,” Stillwater continued, “I used to think I could be a real heroic rogue. Stealing from those that deserved it and giving to those that needed it, and no one would get hurt. Doesn’t work quite like that.
“We may steal from merchants, kings, and noble folk, aye, but they can afford the losses. The people that get hurt, they’re the sailors hired to transport and protect the cargo. I steal from those that deserve it by killing those that need it, and don’t have a single bit left over to give away to anyone. And I’m still no closer to Prin.”
Aimi bit her lip, but her curiosity won out. “What’s Prin?”
The captain fixed her with a cold grey stare so intense Aimi had to look away. “He’s a man I need to find,” he said eventually.
“How mysterious.” Aimi grinned.
“Have you any idea how frustrating you are?”
“Yes,” Aimi said, nodding. “Have you any idea how conflicted you sound?”
“Yes.”
They stared at each other in silence for a long while. Aimi found it hard to tell what the captain was thinking behind his steely eyes, but he didn’t look like he was about to try to throw her out again.
“I used to know exactly what I was doing,” he said quietly. “Where I was going. Now I feel like a ship without a course. I’m just following Drake Morrass blindly. Honestly, I’m still not convinced I’m not following a demon right into a watery Hell.”
Chapter 42 - Starry Dawn
If someone had asked Elaina just a few weeks ago, she would have quite firmly stated Cinto Ceno was the most uninhabitable island in the isles. She was glad someone hadn’t asked her a few weeks ago, because now she would have to admit the mistake and would look a right fool to boot.
As the refugees from Lillingburn rushed down the gangplanks, they were greeted with open arms by folk who usually would have been suspicious, cautious, and downright hostile. Now they were welcoming and bordering on friendly.
“What in all the watery Hells is going on here?” Elaina asked of no one in particular.
“Fuckin’ creepy, if ya ask me,” Four-Eyed Pollick said. “Nobody in the isles is this welcomin’. We’ve got generations of breedin’ to make us untrustin’ bastards. Can ya imagine steppin’ off the dock on Fango an’ someone welcomin’ ya with a clap on the back?”
“Depends if they had a knife in the other hand,” Elaina said, watching the refugees being welcomed to their new home.
Elaina recognised one of the other ships floating out in the bay, Mary’s Virtue. That meant the insufferable Daimen Poole was somewhere in the town, unless – and Elaina dared to hope – he’d been killed and someone else was now captain of the frigate. The second ship she didn’t recognise. Elaina had never even heard of a boat called North Gale before.
“What do ya think?” she said to Rovel, to her right.
“I don’t see The Phoenix anywhere. Stillwater ain’t here. I think we should throw the rest of these mouths off our boat and sail back to Fango. Ya da won’t be pleased we’re here.”
“Screw my da,” Elaina said, and hoped none of her crew were secretly his. “I’m curious. Want to know what’s going on here and how they managed to settle despite the burning cliffs and the sand monsters.”
“Recognise the hat?” Pollick said with a sneer.
Elaina did recognise the hat that was strolling down the beach towards the docks. As far as she knew, only one man in all the isles wore a round-topped hat. Most preferred flat-tops or tricorns these days, but Daimen Poole liked to stand out.
“Reckon I might need a translator,” Elaina said, grinning. “Bastard’s accent is thicker than Gurn's porridge.”
Poole reached the docks and greeted the refugees from Lillingburn; Elaina heard none of what was said from her position on Starry Dawn, but she got the distinct impression Poole was in charge of the town. After a brief conversation with some of the refugees, Poole started weaving his way through the bodies up to Elaina’s ship.