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Norma Blackwell leaned against the cold bars, listening to the festival breathe beyond the stone the laughter, the fiddles, the sweet heat of street food. She’d been looking forward to today, ribbons in the square, rich folk drunk on their own finery, pockets heavy with jewelry. She’d even lifted a necklace from a noblewoman’s throat with an easy snatch until the guard caught her.
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Norma never cared for the value of the jewelry, if it was pretty and shiny she’d take it, she’d always feel a certain itch in her fingers and the rush of adrenaline during the act. No one would even notice that she had swiped the items until it was too late.
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It was quite addicting.
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She would never sell them, though only other, less pretty jewels: fancy pocket watches, shawls made with the finest silks from Mesendi and Shadzia, and bags handcrafted from the Archipelagos. One time, she even snagged a parasol made from gold and ivory. Today was supposed to be a regular day for her. She sometimes wished she had a better life but every time she did she would feel an awful amount of guilt for ever thinking that.
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Now she sat in an old cell, wrists sore and pride bruised, watching the corridor like a tide chart and waiting for the next gap in the current her next chance to slip free.
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The Thief Pirate
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My hand stayed outstretched, hovering in the air between us, waiting for him to take it.
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Gods, why was this old fart making it so difficult? It was just a handshake. Father always said guards were well-versed in etiquette.
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Father also said soldiers and guards were educated, and that I should be careful stealing from them, especially the ones who’d been to war. Veterans were the most dangerous of all. He was right. Whenever I saw them drunk in taverns, there was an edge to them, something in their eyes that screamed danger, like they’d seen too much, and were still alert, waiting for more. I saw it in this old fart standing in front of me… and, sometimes, in Father too.
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The captain smiled. It was soft and gentle, surprisingly so, because I didn’t think he had the capability to do so. Then, suddenly, he grimaced and looked away, as if I were something that had hurt him, or something too painful to look at.
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Ugh, rude! It’s not like I’m some kind of monster that you can’t stand looking at.
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Fine, if he didn’t want to look me in the eyes because I’m a pirate then have it your way then. I stared at my boots, my hand still lingering outside the bars of the cell.
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Suddenly a warm hand grasped mine and I looked up to see the old guard shaking my hand. I smiled, finally.
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“Took you long enough!”
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I guess the old hound does have a heart?
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He scoffed. “Don’t get the wrong idea, you were practically begging me too.” The handshake barely lasted a second before he turned away and crossed the room to his desk, already writing with his pen across a massive leather book.
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“So… you’re writing a report?” I asked.
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He only grunted, which is close enough to a yes. I leaned closer, trying to see over the bars.
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“What are you writing?”
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He sighed without looking up. “Stuff.”
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I frowned. “Stuff like what?”
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His pen stuttered for a second. “Stuff like nania,” he said too quickly.
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“Nania?”
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He snapped his head up at last, eyes flat. “None of your business.”
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I returned an equally flat look. “Ha ha, very funny” I said sarcastically.
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I stood for a couple of minutes waiting for a response but none came, the old captain looked busy so I decided to look around the guardhouse from my little cell and to see what position the sun was.
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I peered through the small barred window that looked out onto the guardhouse’s back alley. The sun sat low, a deep orange smear against the stone, its light bouncing off the walls of a near by building.
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Shit, It's near sunset.
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That didn’t bode well. If Tiamat didn’t have enough stored strength left to stretch the ink’s effects, I’d be in trouble, she’d been sleeping all day to stave off the effects, and I hadn’t dared draw on her power, only once when Mr. ‘break-my-face-over-cobblestone-road’ over here pinned me. Even then, I could already feel the slight effects of the land sickness.
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The guardhouse squatted near the mouth of Port Thompen, though not as impressive as the other guardhouses that I have seen across the other ports of Lirael. The thick stone walls was stained with salt, soot, and years of wet air from what I could tell. Inside, the place smelled of ink, brine, and unwashed wool, maybe a little too much brine. A narrow corridor ran between iron-barred cells, the floor worn smooth where boots and dragged chains had passed too many times to count.
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Lanternlight pooled in weak, yellow patches, leaving the corners dim. Past the cells sat the desk, an old slab of timber, a ledger the size of a coffin lid where our resident, goody-two-shoes captain was sitting down writing in his record book about who knows what.
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Somewhere deeper in the building, a door led to the evidence room, locked, quiet, and heavy with the hush of stolen things waiting to be claimed by yours truly.
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“So,” he asked, eyes still on the ledger as his pen scratched on, “you got family?”
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For a moment I didn’t know what to say. Tell him everything, or just the bare bones?
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“I—um…” I stared at the floor, my chest suddenly heavy. “No…”
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He glanced at me from the corner of his eye, but kept writing.
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"Your mother?"
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"Never met her, they said she left me soon after I was born"
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"Sibling?"
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"I don't got any"
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“Hm. What about that old man of yours?”
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“I—well… he’s not—he can’t… not anymore.”
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Something seemed to click. A small sigh left his lips.
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“How long have you been on your own?” His voice softened, it sounded genuine, to my surprise.
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“…Since I was twelve, I guess.”
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“And how old are you now?” This time he looked up from the book.
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I did the math in my head. “Um… fifteen, I think.”
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"What happened? How did you end up like this?"
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My brows furrowed as I started to pick at my sleeves. It wasn't a nice story to say out loud, considering who I am and what my father was and his particular... occupation. I didn't feel as confident as I did the first time.
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"My father's ship was attacked and he...you know, went down with it." I wasn't going to tell him everything. Not the truth anyway. He didn't need to know everything, why would he? He's a Liraelian guard, an enemy. I expected a response but there was none, only silence, until he finally spoke.
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"I'm sorry, kid”
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I was taken off guard by his genuine tone. I quickly regained my composure and shrugged “It's fine, it happened a long time ago anyway” There was at least some truth in that.
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“Still, a kid like you shouldn't be doing this” He gestured to the ledger “You should be out enjoying life and doing whatever it is you want”
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I quirked my brow in confusion “But I am doing what I want, I got the necklace I wanted and-” He cuts in again.
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“Not like that” He rubbed his eyes, looking a lot older than he did ten minutes ago. “Like, doing whatever it is kids do…legally”
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I didn’t see what the problem was, he said I could do whatever it is I wanted and I did. I got the necklace cause it looked pretty, never mind the price and I was going to keep it with the rest of my collection. Granted, my collection mainly consist of stolen jewelry and accessories, and very few pocket watches.
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He must have seen the look on my face because he rubbed his eyes even more.
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Jeez, his eyes are gonna shrink if he keeps doing that.
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“Legally! As in within the law!”
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I chuckled at his exasperated expression, he lets out a long sigh and turned back to writing in the ledger. That's when a sharp pain hit my temple. It was a migraine, but as quickly as it came it went.
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A sudden realization hit me as hard as the migraine itself. “How long am I going to be here?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
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The Captain kept writing, not bothering to look up.
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“A while.”
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“How long is a while?”
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“Long enough for Fenwick to fetch the lady you stole from and the navy.”
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My blood went cold. The noblewoman, I could handle. I’ve dealt with a dozen like her in other ports, my light fingers taking heavy jewelry, a quick cell, an easy escape. It was fine, piece of cake. I mean I had Tiamat with me so it was fine.
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But the navy was another matter entirely. They were pirate hunters, the whole lot of them, since most of them had war priests in their ranks so a fight would be ugly, especially with Tiamat napping half the time. They were all pirate killers, taking their cue from King Normus, Pirate’s Bane, and I wasn’t about to stick around to find out what they’d do to Tiamat… or to me.
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and then Add to home screen.