Lost at Sea Bk. 01 Ch. 09

Will had his feet up on his desk and was enjoying some long awaited silence. It felt a bit strange to be alone. Only a few days ago he would have been used to it. Janie had always left in the evenings. He rarely had visitors. The lighthouse was built in an area of the town which did not have a lot of nighttime activity.

All the chaos and excitement that had happened the last few days was what his life had once been like all the time. Now that he had it again it made him realized how much he'd missed it. It was suddenly impossible to ignore how restless and caged he'd felt for the last two years.

He should have been tired, but he wasn't. He found himself wishing he had something interesting to do tonight. He was in the middle of trying to figure out if he should go to bed anyway, or stay up and work a little more when someone tried to open the front door. The lock held firmly. Then a loud knock followed.

"Sterling!" A female voice called from outside. "Sterling, getcher ass out here!"

Will sighed. "You'd think by now I'd have learned to be careful what I wish for," he muttered, heading out to the front room. He took his sword belt off the coat hook and hung it over his shoulder as he walked.

"Who's there?" he called when he reached the door. After last night's encounter with Timmonds he wasn't feeling like taking any chances.

"Yer Cap'n!" came the voice, now laughing. The door pounded again.

"Vex," Will muttered starting down the series of locks that kept his door secure, unlatching one after another. "She's certainly living up to her name." He pulled it opened and leaned in the doorway. Outside stood Captain Vex, Mister North, and two other sailors, a short, sturdy looking woman who was new to him and a tall, thickly built young man that he'd seen on the Kestrel yesterday.

"What can I do for you, Captain?" Will asked.

"You c'n come drink wit' us," Belita grinned. She'd obviously already had a few, and by the looks of it so had the rest of her crew. "I wan' tae git tae know my new Navigator."

Will grabbed his hat and stepped outside. It was a warm night. The moon was bright. He shrugged. "Why not."

Belita and her crew of three let out a small cheer and Will took a minute to lock his door.

"How many locks you got? Damn!" the big fellow behind Mister North asked.

"Five," Will said. "Four of them are enchanted. They engage other protections." He only locked three of them, then he turned around and gave Belita an over-exaggerated bow, "What's our course, Captain?"

"Why don't ye tell us, Navigator," Vex grinned. "That's wha' ye were hired for!" Her seafarer's brogue was much thicker with the addition of the alcohol she'd been enjoying. "This 's our first time in Bastard's Bay! What d' ye bastards do fer fun 'round 'ere?"

"Well, Merry Mary's is a decent place. It's a gambling house, a brothel, and they have a decent variety show most nights," Will said. "Or, there's the Captain's Daughter, down on the docks. It's a fairly typical tavern for a town like this. Booze, brawls, seafolk."

"Sounds like my kinda place, but I'm likin' th' sound o' yer gamblin' house first. Lead on!" Belita said, turning toward the street and raising her finger in the air dramatically.

"Well, for starters..." Will said, then hooked her arm and pivoted her so her she was headed in the right direction. North and the other two laughed. Belita grinned.

"See Sterling, already earnin' yer cut," she said, giving him a friendly punch in the shoulder. Her boot heels clicked down the cobblestones. Will had to take a few quick steps to catch up.

"How'd your requisitions go, Mister North?" Will asked.

"Fine, sir, just fine," North said. "Your merchant friend is a blessing."

"Don't tell him that. He likes his cutthroat reputation," Will smirked.

"Oh, I'm sure it's well earned. He seems shrewd as a slighted djinn, but it ain't me footin' the bill so I don't much care. I just gave him my lists and said you sent me. He didn't even balk. Said he'd handle it. We started getting deliveries of goods less than two hours later. He didn't even ask questions about all your damn ship's boats." North shook his head in bewildered amusement.

"I have him well trained," Will said with a small shrug. "He and I have a standing bet going. Every time I give him a requisition list, I include something that I don't really need and don't think he'll be able to get. Every time he can't fill that specific item, he owes me a bottle of good rum. If he correctly guesses which item is the one I don't actually need, I own him a bottle. It's been a long time since either one of us owed the other a bottle."

"So what did you include that you didn't need this time?" North asked. "I ain't got a lot of room on the Kestrel. If there's somethin' I can leave behind, I'd like to know."

"A bear trap," Will laughed. "I thought for sure I would owe him a bottle for that one, but when his invoice was delivered it was on there. That wiley bastard managed to track down a bear trap on an island without any bears."

Belita and the crew laughed. North snorted. "I wondered what the hell that was about. It's in the Quartermaster's lock up now. I'll make sure it ends up where it belongs."

"I kinda wish he'd guessed right. He charged me enough for it to buy himself a half a case of rum," Will laughed.

"Sounds like he found a way to beat your game," Belita said.

The realization had Will stopping in his tracks for a moment. He cursed and shook his head, then kept walking, catching up in a few steps. "That son of a goat is using our bet to pad the bill."

The Kestrel's crew laughed. Belita looked over her shoulder with an amused expression on her face. "Guess we know why ye're a cartographer and not a merchant."

Will sighed and nodded, "I've been told I'm way too trusting." He tugged Belita's arm again to turn her down a new street. "Straight from here until you see the red lights out front."

"New heading, Helmsman!" Belita called out loudly.

"New heading!" the big man behind her echoed.

"I'm going to guess you're our Helmsman?" Will said dryly.

"Aye, Mister Sterling. Colin Strong, at your service." Colin shook Will's hand. His stature and his grip lived up to his name.

"Pleased to meet you, Colin," Will said, shaking his hand a bit after he'd retrieved it. "Remind me not to arm wrestle you."

Belita laughed again. Colin had the good grace to look apologetic. "Sorry 'bout that. Hope you don't mind the Kestrel having a Navigator and a Helmsman."

"That's fine by me. A lot of ships have both. Usually they're much bigger ships than the Kestrel, but it's not like I've never seen it happen before. Besides, from the looks of things you're a lot better suited to the wheel than I am."

"Thank you, sir." Colin nodded.

"S' why I hired 'im," Belita interjected. "Tell Sterling what ye were doin' b'fore ye joined my crew."

"Ah..." Colin said, looking a bit embarrassed. "I drove a cart."

"He pulled a cart. For a bricklayer. In Travenfjord," Belita corrected.

Will was impressed to the point of skepticism. Travenfjord was built on a cliffside. There was only one street from the top to the waterline. It switched back around fifteen times. Hauling anything there would be challenging. Hauling bricks would be like torture. He could think of hard labor sentences that would be easier. "That's madness," Will said, not hiding his disbelief at all.

"Aye," Belita agreed.

"It wasn't so bad," Colin said, trying to downplay it.

"Did anyone else do it?" Belita asked.

"Well, yeah. the other carts had mules though. I could never afford one," Colin said, still trying to sound self-deprecating but not quite realizing how he'd just implicated himself.

The whole crew laughed, including Will. "He seems like a good catch, Captain," Will chuckled, clapping his hand on Colin's shoulder for a moment.

"He started as a swab an' worked 'is way up. Dinnae take long. Th' boy's a workhorse an' he catches on quick," Belita said, still walking with a purpose down the middle of the darkened road.

"It wasn't so hard," Colin shrugged.

"After hauling bricks in Travenfjord, I guess it wouldn't be," Will chuckled. He turned to the woman walking next to Mister North. "What about you, ma'am? What's your role on the ship?"

She was short, sturdy, with light brown hair that was just beginning to grey. It was pulled back into a braided tail that hung down to her shoulders. She dressed in men's grey trousers, but a faded red woman's blouse, which was stretched near to bursting across her impressive chest. She was nearly as gifted in the front as Bella. Against the front of her blouse a narrow bosun's pipe hung from a cord around her neck. A bowler style hat on her head, which she tipped in Will's direction. "Danica North," she said. "First Mate."

Will tipped his hat in return. "A pleasure, Ma'am. Related to this North?"

"My husband." She smiled warmly at Mister North. He put a meaty arm about her shoulders.

"She thinks your manifest is hilarious," North grunted, giving his wife a wry look.

"Our master rigger was fit to be tied when she found out how many boats you want to hang from the Kestrel," Danica smiled. "She's pretty unflappable, so I like anything that gets a rise out of her."

"I hope meeting her goes as well as meeting you," Will said, looking chagrined.

"There's a betting pool going about what she'll do to you. Right now I think tied to the mast has the best odds," Danica grinned.

"My money's on you waking up lashed into your hammock," Colin added. Apparently no one had told him Will was going to be sleeping in the Captain's bunk.

"It's been a while since I had to practice my escape artistry. I guess I should brush up before we leave." Will's chagrined look graduated all the way to worry.

"Couldnae hurt," the Captain said from ahead of them.

________________

"Oh no, not you," the wiry redheaded man in the green sequined coat said loudly as he twisted his way through the crowd to stop the crew of the Kestrel at the inner doorway where they were checking their weapons. Will passed his rapier to the pretty girl behind the desk, then held up his hands in defence as the wiry man approached.

"I'm not here to gamble, Chance," Will pleaded calmly. "I'm not going to set foot near the game tables or the competition room. I just brought you some new customers. I'll stay in the lounge and have a few drinks, promise. Caine won't let anything get out of hand."

Chance stopped for a long moment, thinking, seeming to come to a decision when his eyes spied Colin. A red eyebrow raised. "Fine. Lounge only. And the moment anything weird starts to happen, or anyone started getting unruly, anyone at all, you're gone. I ain't taking chances."

"Well that's about three kinds of ironic," Will smiled. Chance scowled at him. "Fine, fine," Will agreed. "Have fun, folks. If you want me, I'll be right in there," Will pointed across the room to a doorway with a pair of gauzy curtains drawn across it.

Mister and Missus North headed for the big bar in the gambling den. Colin Strong found his arm had been hooked by Chance and was being led away, seeming a bit confused but listening to Chance talk. Belita gave Will a small wave and headed toward the poker tables on the other side of the large room.

Merry Mary's was a surprisingly fine place. It was raucous, loud, full of drunk sailors gambling, boasting, and blowing off steam before or after a voyage, but the energy of the place was positive. Mary, the owner, had started the place as a brothel, and built it, expanded it bit by bit. Hiring Chance as the floor manager had been a sound decision. For whatever reason, both Chance and Mary agreed that the best way to make money was to make sure there was never a time when the customers had to stop drinking, gambling and whoring. That meant that Chance and Mary were ruthless when it came to problems. There were no warnings at Merry Mary's. Employees who screwed up were quietly fired on the spot. Excessive drunks were escorted out into the street and encouraged to come again another time. Customers who caused trouble were efficiently tossed out. The fun never stopped at Mary's because anything that threatened the fun was killed on sight. That reputation let people relax, and also served to keep people on good behavior even when they weren't sober.

The Lounge was the brothel side of the establishment, as well as the general entertainment area. A thin blond woman wearing a gauzy, see-through top and a slinky dress designed to look something like a mermaid's tail was sitting on a piano and singing a raucous sea chanty to a crowd of boisterous onlookers. Working girls moved between clients with enticing looks and luring words. Small alcoves dotted the large room. Some were open, others were closed off by drawn curtains of embroidered fabric. In the alcoves sat entertainers of various kinds plying their trades. Two masseurs, a man and a woman each dressed in scant white cloth, sat on their tables waiting for clients. A female barber dressed in an apron and nothing else spun the red and white sign pole outside her alcove announcing to the room that she was ready to clean up the next scruffy sailor to grace her chair. An elegant looking middle aged woman in a low cut red dress was negotiating with a customer, enticing him into buying one of the many small bottles and pills that lined the shelves of her small apothecary shop. In another alcove, the only one with a door at the back, stood a tall, statuesque woman with a blond braid dressed in crisscrossing strips of leather. In her alcove hung many lengths of rope, paddles, lashes, chains, and crops. She defiantly eyed the crowd as they passed her until a craggy faced sailor did something wrong, or perhaps right. She barked something at him, pointing and ordering him to stand before her. He slowly did looking, confused, intrigued and worried.The curtain shut. The sounds of fierce orders carried into the main room for a few more moments before the sound of a slamming door echoed from beyond the curtain.

Belladonna Fortuna was lounging in her alcove, rocking her chair back on two legs with her bare feet up on a round table draped in purple velvet. She swung her big toe back and forth to the music showing an eye catching amount of olive toned leg. A large crystal ball sat in the center of the table. Her cards were stacked neatly next to it. A number of esoteric charts of the human body were featured on the walls, as well as a large ornate mirror. A few shelves dotted with small earthenware pots and glass jars filled out the space. A slightly nervous looking young man approached her and she spoke with him, bringing her feet down and leaning forward. Her enormous chest strained against the confines of her off-the-shoulder blouse. She gestured to the seat opposite her. The young man came into the alcove and sat. She pulled a cord. The drapes swung shut.

Will smiled, amused. He'd seen Bella work before. It was usually the same routine. Most of the time she did a little cold reading, guessed some generic specifics to draw information out, did some parlor tricks, read a palm, did a card spread, and sent the poor saps on their way. Most of them left without ever knowing they were in the presence of a an actual witch. Her guise as a fortune teller was a masterful camouflage, allowing her to hide in plain sight.

Sometimes, if the right questions were asked, and the right price was agreed to, Bella's customers would get a genuine Divination. They didn't always know that's what they were getting, but they'd find out soon enough just how accurate the fortune teller at the brothel really was. It was a decent gig. Modest pay, a place to stay, in-house protection (which, for a N'madi witch was a large perk), and no one judging her for her promiscuity. Among the staff at Merry Mary's, Bella got teased for being the chaste one. Her fortune telling was only half the work she did though. The other half was making sure the working girls didn't get pregnant and didn't get sick. Part of the benefit of working for Mary as a prostitute was that there was an actual witch around to provide hex bags and curative rituals to ward off any social diseases picked up from the sailors. The girls didn't even have to pay Bella themselves. Chance took care of everything, and Bella was paid reasonably well for her work. She probably could have made more if she was negotiating with each of the girls individually, but steady work made the income reliable and the other benefits made up for the making less money for each bag or ritual.

Will walked over to the small bar and ordered himself a brandy. He nodded to Greyson Caine, Mary's head of security, who was sitting at the bar a few seats down occasionally eyeing people in the crowd. Caine nodded back. Will didn't have many people he considered friends, and even fewer that he actually trusted. Caine was in both categories. Merry Mary's had been Will's favorite haunt back when he and Jack were partners. He'd spent a lot of time in this lounge. Caine was a tough nut to crack, but slowly they'd gotten to know each other. Now, other than Janie, Caine was the person Will trusted most.

He was a few years older than Will, but he looked like he could be Will's father. He also looked like a drunk. His eyes were a bit sunken and his head and face had been shaved days ago leaving short bristly stubble of the same length all over. His skin was a bit sallow and his nose had obviously been broken more than once and not quite set properly, making his whole face look crooked. He was slouched at the bar with a slightly dented metal tankard in front of him. Only the patch sewn to his grey tunic featuring the silhouette of a dancing girl with a tambourine on a red background - the same image painted on the sign out front - marked Caine as being associated with the business at all. Still, nearly everyone knew who Caine was and gave him wide berth.

Bastard's Bay was a place where reputation was everything. It didn't matter who you knew. It only mattered who knew you.

Will's reputation had spread among the ports and ships and was surprisingly widespread, at least among merchants and sea captains, so it was fair to say that he was moderately famous, particularly among serious seafarers and explorers. That didn't mean much in Bastard's Bay. In spite of his history of adventure, not many people cared about the guy who lived in the lighthouse and made fancy maps. That was just local color, which there was already a lot of. Caine was different. He was a true local celebrity, and he hated it. He was one of those people who stories just collected about, but no one really knew if they were true. What everyone knew was true was that he had one of the most dangerous reputations on the whole island. The rumor was that he had once been a Magistrate Centurion. Some even said he had been a Legate or a Praetor. Will doubted those were true, but he had to admit that he wouldn't have been surprised if they were. Once you got past his appearance, he was the sort of guy who seemed like he really should be out leading armies and hunting down evil warlocks and such. Caine never confirmed or denied any of it. What was known for sure was that Caine was hands down the toughest man on the island. Wherever he'd learned to fight, it wasn't like anything Will had ever seen before. The gruff looking man's entire body was a weapon. He'd seen Caine fight enough times, and even alongside him once when a particularly large brawl broke out. Will was no slouch at fisticuffs. He'd been in more brawls than he could count, but he'd never want to tangle with Caine.

He sat down. The bartender put a cup in front of him. "Thought you were banned forever?" Caine said, not looking at Will but clearly talking to him.