Dragonoak (2 page)

“You in
charge here, then?” a bald wall of a man asked.

“I
retired, settled down, and this lot decided they wanted me as a
leader,” Reis replied curtly. “Reckon that gives me the right sort
of authority.”

“Thought
this was a town full of women,” a second man tried, covered from
head to foot in tattoos, none of them worth remarking
on.

“Nah.
All sorts are welcome here—just not your kind, mate,” Reis replied
flatly. The man didn't know what to say, having been unable to rile
them up. “Gonna cut to the chase, are we?”

A cheer
of encouragement boomed out of some of the less sober spectators,
and the man who'd yet to say anything held out the scroll he'd been
carrying under his arm. Reis waited for the man to step forward and
place it in their hand, and didn't take their eyes off our
unwelcome guests as they unfurled it.

If there
was an assassination attempt wrapped up in all of this, it was a
foolish, futile effort. Any one of the pirates surrounding the men
would've snatched at the frailest reason to slice them in two, and
over the years, Reis had proven theirself to be an elusive
target.

At its
full length, the scroll was almost as tall as I was. Everyone
behind me leant forward, trying to take in a sentence or a phrase,
and I found myself straining to see it, too. Canthian had a flowing
script, curves and swirls where Mesomium was all sharp angles, and
I almost thought that had I started out there, I might've stood a
chance at being able to read. The language itself had certainly
settled down well enough within me, flowing as words and thoughts
easier than my mother tongue did, these days.

“Ain't
your boss ever heard of being concise?” Reis asked, skimming the
text. Gavern's handwriting was small and meticulously neat, and
Reis would need to sit down in broad daylight with a magnifying
glass to understand it all.

“The
terms are simple,” the tattooed man said, “Gavern backs off. No
more attacks on Mahon, no more sinking merchant ships in the area.
We let you go about your business, and in return, Gavern gets to
dock here whenever he needs to. Gets to make use of any of the
town's resources.”

Incredulous laughter rippled through the port and Reis nodded
their head to theirself as they continued to pretend to read. When
they said nothing more, the man who'd handed Reis the scroll said,
“You've got a week to decide.”

Reis
held out the scroll, and with a furrowed brow, the man went to take
it. Reis released it before he could reach over, and let it clatter
against the ground, parchment creased.

“There's
your answer,” they said, tapping the gun at their hip. “Woulda
taken a vote, but I reckon I knew how it was gonna go.”

“Listen
here,” the tattooed man said, stomping forward and jabbing a finger
at Reis' chest as he stared down at them. “You're gonna be sorry if
you don't read that over. Should be kissin' the ground around my
feet right now, 'cause I'm gonna give you one more chance to change
your mind.”

Tae drew
her sword the moment the man approached Reis, but Reis held out an
arm, keeping her back.

“Easy,”
Reis said, then lifted their chin. “Think you'd better be leaving
before my friend here stops listening to me.”

“One
week,” the man said, jabbing Reis again.

With a
wave of Reis' hand, the crowd parted to let the men through, and
they took slow, certain strides out of the town centre, as though
the task they'd been charged with made them untouchable. As though
Gavern's authority extended to Mahon, and we wouldn't dare to harm
them, knowing how they'd been hand-picked.

I
stepped forward, watching Reis out of the corner of my eye, waiting
for what came next. Something always came next.

Sure
enough, when the men had walked far enough to think themselves
safe, Reis raised a hand, fingers slowly curling towards their
palm. Sword still in hand, Tae rushed out first, eager to prove
herself, and those who understood the signal charged after
her.

Ten
women ran out, dived at the men, and knocked them off their feet.
Those around cheered as the men roared out, women grabbing their
arms, pinning them to the ground; raising their blades and hacking
their sword-hands off. They were hardly clean cuts,
either.

It was
too dark, and I was too far away to take in the details, but I saw
the blood rush out, saw the women kick the men in the ribs as they
curled around their wounds. Nothing flickered within me. No pain
rushed through my wrist, nor did my fingers twitch in sympathy;
nothing sparked within me. It hadn't in a long time.

With
another slight gesture from Reis, the assailants backed off. Reis
approached the men slowly, and stood over them as they curled in on
themselves, beating the ground and screaming out incoherent threats
they were in no state to go through with. The clamour of the crowd
faded to an excited thrum, all eager to hear how Reis would
conclude the evening's entertainment.

“You know what the problem with your sort is?” Reis asked,
tapping the bald man on the side when he seemed more interested in
seething at the ground than listening to them. “You're so wrapped
up in this being a haven for women that you forget it's a port made
by and for
pirates
. Go on, lads. Off with you.”

Rightly
believing it was their only chance to escape, the men scrambled to
their feet, charged off into the night, and cursed Mahon as they
went. Their severed hands went forgotten, until a few of the
pirates rushed forward and threw them at their backs. The only
thing that stopped people finishing what Reis had started was the
satisfaction of knowing that the men were going to have to explain
what went so horribly wrong to Gavern.

“Nice
one, Cap!” someone called out, and the pirates cheered in agreement
as they scattered, heading back to the taverns and inns and
brothels they'd previously been occupying, having much more of a
reason than Mahon ever needed to celebrate.

“Mind if
we take care of this... ?” a woman younger than I was asked,
grinning bashfully as she gestured to the scroll discarded in front
of the old temple.

Reis
gave a sharp nod, and with a grateful bow, the woman snatched the
scroll before anyone else could and skipped over to the torches
lining the streets. Her friend took hold of one end, and they
stretched it out between them, watching it burn over the
flames.

Reis
wasn't about to smile over such a small victory, but they looked
pleased with theirself and proud of the town.

“That's
that. I'd best be heading back,” they said to me.

“Heading back?” Tae asked, skidding to a stop in front of
them. “Captain, no offence, but
come
on
. If this ain't worth celebrating, what
is?”

Wiping
her sword on the sash around waist, Tae looked to me for support
and said, “I know Felheim's not calling it a night yet.
Right?”

Sleeping
from midday and through the afternoon meant that Mahon was never
more alive than it was at night, once the day's work on the sea and
at the docks was done with, and I wasn't about to fall asleep any
time soon. Not after witnessing a scene of the sorts. With a shrug,
I said, “We didn't get to finish dinner. I bet Soeta will cook us
up something good, if you ask.”

The promise of something rich in flavour was enough to twist
Reis' arm. Delighted, Tae led us to
Charybdis
, a restaurant opposite the
tavern, where the pirates who'd already sat down to dinner quickly
rose to their feet, giving us the best table in the place.
Charybdis
spilt out onto
the street with low, padded seats surrounding a ring of a table
with a low burning grill in the centre.

Soeta, a
woman well into her seventies, brought us pitchers of ale and fruit
juice in every colour, and Tae sat next to Reis, while I settled
down opposite them. Skewers of meat and vegetables were laid out
across the grill, and though no one in Mahon expected Reis to pay
for anything, they always made sure to tip far more than was
necessary.

“Gods,”
Tae exclaimed through a mouthful of meat, “I'm starved. Nothing
builds up your appetite like that.”

“What
are you on about?” Reis asked, eating no less enthusiastically.
“You ran twenty feet and hacked off a hand. You didn't even break
out into a sweat.”

“You're
missing the point, Cap! It's the adrenaline! Not every day we get
to cut of some bastard's hand to defend your honour.”

“It's
Mahon you should be defending,” Reis pointed out. “If I let you
guys screw the port up, Yin Zhou's gonna take my other
leg.”

Tae and
Reis continued to bicker playfully as I filled myself up with
dragon fruit juice, idly picking at a skewer as I watched a woman
I'd helped haul in nets of fish that morning seize another in a
headlock, and throw her to the tavern floor. The Canthians called
this part of the year the months of Ash. The temperature dipped low
enough to be considered tolerable, and the days clung to the heat
left over from the months of Rebirth. Since arriving, I'd barely
been able to go half an hour without downing a glass of something
or another, though I no longer felt as though I was going to boil
from the inside.

“Alright, Felheim!” a voice called out from behind me. Arms
wrapped around my shoulders and Tizo's head appeared next to
mine.
Captain
Tizo, that was; three months ago, her captain had been
involved in an entirely avoidable accident (whiskey, gunpowder) and
Tizo had shot through the ranks. She hadn't stopped smiling since.
“Listen here. What with Gavern sinking so many merchant vessels, no
one's wanting to risk coming to these parts any more. Which means
we're stuck picking up the goods for ourselves. Fancy a trip down
to Eloa tomorrow?”

“Sure,”
I said as Tizo bit a chunk of meat off my skewer. “What are we
picking up?”

“The
usual exciting stuff. Half a dozen crates of spices, a few barrels
of spirits, bunch of livestock. That kinda thing,” she said,
mussing my hair as she stood up, nodding her head at Reis and
winking at Tae. “Alright, Captain. Sorry I missed the big show.
Didn't make port until half an hour ago. Any chance of a repeat
performance?”

“If Tae
don't stop stuffing all the food in her face the moment it's
brought over, aye,” Reis said, and Tae leant back from the grill so
sharply that ale sloshed around her glass and spilt into her lap.
“Going to Eloa, are you? Got some letters you can take. They've
been a couple of barrels short on their last deliveries, but I
reckon we can sort this out like civilised adults.”

“It'd be
an honour,” Tizo said, and fell into one of the empty seats when
Reis jerked a thumb towards it.

We ate
far more than we needed to – building up energy for tomorrow, as
Tizo put it – and chatted around the grill, faces lit up by the low
flames. We watched fights break out in the tavern, followed by
people desperately trying to apologise when they realised they were
scuffling in front of Reis. Reis never wasted an opportunity to
glower at anyone who was digging themselves deeper, and dismissed
them with a sharp tilt of their head, rolling their eyes once they
scampered off.

I'd
barely touched any of the alcohol but my body was buzzing
pleasantly, and I slouched in my seat, listening to the ceaseless
buzz of Mahon around me, like a thousand insects in the long grass.
Glasses came together, pirates shouted and sung and swore, and I
smiled to myself, glad I'd found somewhere I belonged, even if I'd
had to cross an ocean for it.

Port
Mahon was home to those who'd had to leave theirs, for one reason
or another, and no one ever asked more questions than they needed
to. The people there had taken me on as one of their own; I shared
meals with them, as well as a language; I worked for them, worked
beside them, and they paid me well for all I did; and not once did
they tell me that I didn't belong out at sea, that I ought to stay
out of the way and find some other, quieter way to help.

Port
Mahon was more of a home to me than anywhere else had ever been,
and yet every time I closed my eyes, no matter how content I was, I
saw Asar. I saw the ocean of flame we'd been forced to
flee.

I was on
the verge of being lulled to sleep by food and drink and good
company when someone down the street called out
“Dragon-born!”

There
weren't any pane in Canth other than Kouris, not that I'd seen. The
pane were well regarded there, in the same way phoenixes were; as
something from the past, slowly passing out of history and into
mythology. Strangers would often greet Kouris with fear and
resistance, but only because they didn't know, until that moment,
what a pane was supposed to look like.

In Mahon
and the surrounding cities, she was treated with respect, and not
simply because she was Reis' oldest friend. She was the town's
good-luck charm. People were glad when she visited the temple,
serving as an example of Isjin's creation.

“Kouris!” I called out, wide-awake once more. She lumbered
over, draped in her leathers, never bothered by the heat, and I
held back a smile in favour of a scowl. “You're late. I was
starting to think Gavern had stuck your horns on his
bowsprit.”