Chapter 130: Unintended Manipulation

Book 3, Chapter 29 - Un-Intended Manipulation

Eksa stoppered her jar of ink and held up her new creation to dry. Life on the ship was bad. Not as bad as her time as a slave, but bad enough for her to long again for a collar around her neck and a sand palace's shade over her head. There was no order as she expected in a military regiment. A lack of organization. And general disrespect for weakness —of which she was the pinnacle.

Save for the ship's figureheads and the few actual trained soldiers on board, everyone regarded her as an object of use. Every conversation had hidden motives reeking of lust. No one respected her for what she was capable of, and seemingly only tolerated her for what she might do for them. Even that, Eksa knew, had its limits. And that limit, she could see in their eyes, was at a breaking point. Aki was the only weapon keeping those salivating stares from snapping with their fangs.

Satisfied with her new creation —a chart of waters surrounding Katur's port— she tucked the item away into a compartment of her trunk to show Captain Dhorjun later. If there was a single saving grace amidst all of this, it was that Eksa earned a decent wage, as did everyone else considering they were formally known as Eurale's navy.

Her first purchases had been investments in life improvements. She'd purchased fragrances to rid her cabin of that musty smell and to stave off the stench of unwashed men always lingering in the corridor. She'd purchased a trunk with a lock for her garments, learning the hard way that her cabin did not lock from the outside. Eksa had retired one night a few months past to find her spare undergarments stolen. Any excess funds she saved and used to purchase the finest of bottles —the kind Aki refused to give out for free. Greedy woman .

Eksa dressed herself accordingly, pulling on her high boots last over the sleeves of a tan pair of breaches. Then she bound her hair and plopped on a plain black tricorne she'd purchased several cycles ago. She fished out a wrapped loaf from another compartment of her trunk —treating herself to a breakfast of a stale bun filled with sweet date paste. She washed it down with mouthfuls of rum before making her way to deck, squinting at the sudden influx of light.

Eksa breathed in sharp. She admired the endless blue surrounding her, sea breeze playfully tugging on strands of unbound flame. A glossy sheen shown on the tips of her black boots. A new pair of boots. She saved them for sunny days like this, allowing them to shine their brightest. It was, Eksa had decided, imperative to enjoy the small things to keep a steady mind in this unpleasant environment.

She spotted Hawthorne on the helm, back turned towards her. Nothing had indicated any ill intent from him since that night at Aki's bar a few months past. Nothing aside from that serrated glare she received from him now and then. The barkeep, she'd caught slipping into Hawthorne's cabin almost every night. Eksa hadn't raised any concerns to her only friend. It felt wrong to doubt, and was embarrassing.

She had tried knocking on Hawthorne's cabin one night. It went unanswered. There had been one thing Aki lied about. The bolted beds did creak loudly if one tried really hard. She blushed at the thought.

Eksa toured the deck of The Virulence as was a habit in the morning. She'd purchased a small notebook in which she noted the characteristics and personality of her fellow crewmates, using it to judge whom she could trust and whom to stay away from. Turned out, no one was trustworthy, but there were few simpler ones she could twirl around her finger. She paused —nearly gagged, recalling how the slaving couple would twirl a key chain in front of their caged slaves, tempting them as beasts are tempted with fresh red meat. What I'm doing is different. These aren't slaves and it's for my safety.

“Morning Severum,” Eksa said, nodding passed the thin man. He seemed all skin and bone with his baggy tunic. Without it, he revealed a lean figure. He was a simpleton that followed orders without question —going so far as to believe he was favored for receiving orders.

I am not treating them as slaves .

Severum bowed as if Eksa was a noble lady. Well, she was . “Morning Eksa. Noon almost actually,” he beamed. She flashed a return smile, keeping lips closed as her tongue scraped against date paste stuck to her teeth.

Eksa moved on, nodding to a round bellied men on all fours, scrubbing the deck with a hard bristled brush. He wore a leather vest over a shirt a size too small for that gut.

“Qisa,” Eksa said, stopping just short of him so he could admire the shine of her boots. His eyes slowly trailed up her figure as he looked up from his task. His thick black stache seemed as solid as the brush he wielded. Eksa stood there for a good few seconds, knowing he'd struggle to maintain eye contact with the way her girdle pressed down on her shirt and accentuated the shape of her bust. She unbuttoned the collar of her shirt and made a show of flapping away heat, revealing just a bit more of her neckline. Qisa's eyes went wide. His Adam's apple bobbed up, indicating a swallow.

“Eksa,” he said with a low accented voice. “Nice boots…”

He wasn't looking anywhere near her lower half. “You noticed? They're new! You're more attentive then you seem!” She forced a giggle and moved on. It was just as Aki said. She had more power than she thought. Half these men spent their days on shore drooling at a bar or spilling wages onto brothel carpets. Yet a young girl —without any makeup— turned their heads all too easily. Aki said it had to do with the exotic nature of seeing an Estraean so far south.

But this kind of manipulation left a sour taste in her mouth. Her father's sailors didn't obey him with hidden intent on their minds. They obeyed him out of admiration of his skills and his character. But how was Eksa to earn admiration and loyalty as a mere crew navigator, as a weakling with no fighting skills on a ship where strength was worshipped? She had little choice but to use that which these milksops beheld themselves to. I am that keychain for which they drool behind a cage with tongues hanging low.

She removed her tricorne and tucked strands of her hair behind her ear as she moved past the bickering Foura twins who were tugging the ropes of the ship's largest black sail, keeping it from unfurling completely. Their hushed arguments stopped the moment she passed. “Good morning Eksa!” they said in unified chant, quickly tying the rope as required.

She turned their way, wearing her hat the same time as a smile. The twins wore long tunics and had shaved heads. They were also twice her age. They constantly seemed at each other's throats but her presence made them display a tinge of proper mannerisms. Just a tinge. Those four were the ones Eksa found simplest of mind. If she tried anything friendly with others, they took it as encouragement for unpleasant things. Still, Eksa always kept her left hand resting around the hilt of her father's cutlass. It wasn't guaranteed that Aki would always be there for her.

Speaking of, where is she?

Eksa marched up deck, steps full of determination and pride, hands folded behind her straight back as if she were the captain herself. She imagined it for a moment too. Imagined that dream of hers. So, so close to reality now. Right there, simmering in a cauldron hanging from a spit just before her, such a luscious fragrance emanating from within. ' Captain Eksa! Captain Eksa! ' were the chants of the crew. Her crew. So—

“You wake too late girl,” said a snide sounding voice. Of course, that was how Crow spoke to everyone. “Drinking at night is affecting your wake times, if you hadn't noticed.”

Late. Whatever that meant in this discipline lacking ship. Eksa realized she'd wandered too close to the helm in her desires to hold the wheel herself. Wandered too close to Crow. She snorted, continuing toward the bow where Captain Dhorjun stood, black shirt and shoulder length dark hair making him seem the shadow of a demon come to life.

“Don't think to highly of yourself, Estraean,” Hawthorne called from behind. “You won't last in his good graces for long.”

As much as Eksa wanted to deny that, she couldn't. She didn't dare dream her favor would last. She was a tool to be used. If at any point Captain Dhorjun decided her use was up… Eksa shuddered. She paused short of the hulking man. “I've finished the map of the Katuri port,” she announced.

“Good,” Dhorjun rumbled without turning.

She waited for more but the captain spoke no further. She contemplated stepping up beside him, reconsidering upon seeing that horrid spiked cudgel at his waist. She sucked in a breath, briny air filling her with confidence and urging her forward as if her legs were sails.

“You should wake earlier,” said the man's thunderous voice.

“Er, yes. The vice-captain was just reprimanding me about that.”

“You pay too much attention to those around you, Eksa. Try too much to imitate them. I took you in, expecting you to be smarter than them. Months now and you're slowly assimilating. I don't need that. You've an uncanny ability to read the winds and waves. I'd prefer you were awake and aware more often than asleep or drunk.”

“Yes, captain,” Eksa muttered, swallowing her pride that had somehow become a piece of stone stuck in her throat. A vague doubt formed in her heart again. One that she'd put away. Aki was the one who'd gotten her into drinking. Aki who spent her nights with Crow. Crow who seemingly despised her —despised most others but her more fiercely, she believed— and wanted to see her out of Dhorjun's favor. The Man with a Hundred Plans …

“Tell me what you feel.”

She did as commanded, closing her eyes —reluctantly in such close proximity to the giant beside her— and filled her lungs with as much air as they could hold. Eksa removed her hat and let the wind glide across her hair. She listened to the sound of waves crashing against the hull and attuned the rhythm of her heart with it. “There is no opposition,” she concluded. “Both wind and water are in our favor. If the distance —no. The distance is correct as I've put it on the new map. We should reach Katur's ports in a few hours.” Dhorjun was off doing business today rather than simply patrolling and inspecting passing unescorted merchant ships spotted in the Basin.

“Good,” said the captain.

Eksa turned to leave, spotting Aki standing with a monocular at the top of the main mast. She'd barely taken a step before Dhorjun spoke again.

“I've been considering expanding my fleet. The king's shipwrights have almost finished crafting a new barque. Similar to The Virulence , but with a slight wider base I believe. I plan to give command of it to Crow. But of course, I'd prefer to have more than just a two vessel fleet.”

Was Dhorjun planning on building a proper navy? More than two vessels… Was this a proposition? “Will I get my own ship?” she wondered. Dhorjun turned to her, eyes narrowed, deliberating. Eksa froze, realizing she'd spoken aloud again. Her thoughts immediately turned to her own safety. Would she be allowed to choose her own crew?

“You're very young. But there's a talent about you I think would rear its head if you were given that kind of independence. Of course I'd let you choose your own crew. I will recruit more, but you'd be free to take from this vessel as you please.”

Eksa's heart was a storm. She tried to hide her glee but her rapid breaths betrayed her.

“Building new vessels takes years however,” Dhorjun continued, thundering voice carrying with it dark clouds that shrouded Eksa's hopes. “Not many of our own trees here to use wood from. And only a fraction of imports goes to the shipyard.”

Building a vessel did indeed take years. If Hawthorne was getting a vessel soon, and he too was allowed to choose his crew, would he take Aki with him? Eksa realized how much she relied on the barkeep. I… I'm nothing. Flames! I'm a child and she's my nanny.

“There are other methods of obtaining ships, though,” said the captain. “…Purchase for one… You're eager to prove yourself, Eksa. And I'm eager to see just how far talent can go. Just how much farther it might go if given the time to grow. I will see what can be done in obtaining a vessel suitable for you.”

Eksa slowly nodded. She backed away, praying to all deities and the Flames that Dhorjun got her something before Hawthorne received his ship. She needed to poach Aki to keep as a guardian and friend. The woman had promised after all. She owed Eksa for the trading of a song.

But what if Aki and Crow are in league? What if she declines to come with me when I ask? Again similar worries gnawed at her insides. Nightmares that had softened with the gentle caress of the sea's waves began crawling up again with their spindly and thorn covered tendrils, wrapping around her thoughts, poisoning them with doubt.

“Destination in sight!” the barkeep cried from atop the mast

Eksa turned to find the rooftops of Katur's port village vaguely visible on the horizon to the naked eye.

***

Odd how a half dozen months disappeared since Aaron had been thrust into Katur. He didn't feel time's passing the same way he felt seasons change. It was the same for him every day. A consistency much like the daily cycle of the sun. All he saw at night was the blood of his mothers plastered over his naked body —and himself staring in a mirror cracked into a hundred different fragments. And then there were mornings. Each new dawn brought on clear memories. They were unpredictable. Some provided knowledge passed down before the fall of House Zz'tai. But most often came the memories carrying the heaviest emotions. Emotions of resentment, fear, and anger.

Some memories were of the fall itself. Some were of after it, when the Zz'tai were scattered, running, and homeless. And then there was his birth mother's memories. The freshest of them all. Each of Lera's memories made it as if Aaron was living as her. He expected to see the worst heights of her life, but he oft saw a young woman not even yet twenty cradling a dark haired baby in her arms with a smile more beautiful than any he'd ever seen.

Me.

Her one true joy. She'd loved him, and he repaid her with a violent death. He'd repaid everyone he loved with violence and abandonment. He still had nothing of his own anymore.

“It stinks here,” Viper whispered from below, using Aaron's shadow to travel around during daylight.

Aaron crinkled his nose as if finally breathing in the fetid air. Right. I have a friend now. I'm not alone . Katur's port could be considered a small village in itself. Well distanced from the city, this place saw a bit more vibrancy, half consistent precipitation giving rise to green shoots sticking out between cracks in the rocky ground. Wooden huts were put up without order before a fairly well constructed dock. Single sail fisherman boats were kept to one side while a larger area was spared for the comings and goings of larger vessels.

A single carrack was moored there, a small white flag at the top of the main mast with a red hand waving with a gentle wind. An Empire vessel. Few lingering guards on deck made approaching difficult.

The huts, Aaron assumed, belonged to families of fishermen. And the stink in the air was theirs as well. Rooftops were lined with fish left out to dry and ferment, giving the surrounds a rotting and salt like stench. Crowds of gulls circled high above, drawn by the smell like fresh blood draws a hound. Their spinning shadow made a dizzying sight.

“It all makes sense,” Viper gasped.

Or was that his normally rasped voice sounding like a gasp?

The Shadow Walker continued. “It'd be hard to carry fresh fish back without ice in the southern heat. Drying it makes it lose mass and meat, but it's the only viable way for Katur to attain fish. A city like Eurale, though, might enjoy fresh fish… I've never had fish.”

Aaron scoured his brain. He had vivid memories of eating fish. But they weren't his own. “I don't think I've had fish either.” And he wasn't about to try it. Not when his stomach was trying to crawl up. He pinched his nose and carried on, earning smirks from half clothed locals. Right. If his tattered attire and long black coat —which he hung from his head like a shawl to protect from the sun— didn't mark him a foreigner, his actions most certainly would.

It has come to my attention, that foreigners will oft mark a traveler to their lands, as attire and mannerisms mark them as foreigners. Some may make up false customs or pose as arms of the law, seeking to take advantage of the weary traveler, or in this case, the foreigner. Thus, I conclude that travelers should exercise caution and act as inconspic—

“Not. My. Memories,” Aaron growled under his breath. Such superfluous thoughts as if the person was writing a manual. How such memories had crept through the ones brought on by emotions, Aaron could not know.

“What?” Viper asked.

“Nothing.” It was good advice though. Aaron swallowed his pride and reached into that memory again. In the event the traveler has already been exposed, he should act aware and in control. He should not gape at the marvels of a foreign culture. He should keep his gaze fixed upon a target like a man with specific purpose. Act as if he's been there before and knows the land.

Yeah. Not a chance. Not with his pauper's clothes, unkempt dark hair, and dusty black coat. Regardless, Aaron ran a hand through his smooth hair and haughtily flipped on his coat, walking with confidence and a straight back. He stared at the sparkling sea, doing his best to not flinch at the blinding light that drifting waves reflected. Not two seconds had passed and he could feel himself sweat. The Flaming sun began burning one half of his face.

Aaron closed his fists and beat back against the memories of a burning building.

The locals laughed and uttered silent jokes to their companions. Aaron cursed. His act fooled no one. He was fourteen. A little high for his age —or so Viper said despite being only a half inch shorter— and he had the wear of a vagabond plastered on his sticky, dirt matted face. But a child's face was always softer than an adult's. These fishermen could tell his age.

“No guards here,” Viper whispered. “No weapons save for harpoons and nets.”

Aaron grunted. The Shadow Walker's company was welcome. He was trained to analyze his surrounds. A good habit to have, Aaron decided. It was true. None of these locals seemed armed. Some carried chipped filleting knives, but Aaron had four soldier's daggers in his coat. And he had Viper.

But it seemed all the worrying was for naught. These people carried themselves without menace. The men were all shirtless, some dark skinned and some with deep tans. Women kept inside huts, cooking, while children were posted on roofs to shoo away winged bandits with an improvised tarp to use as sunblock. Aaron wondered if scarecrows would work here as well as they did on farms.

“Hoo boy! Boy in the black!” a man called, a red rag wrapped around his head. He squatted down near a fire kept sheltered in a circle of rocks, a black iron wok hanging from a spit above. A liquid with a yellow tint bubbled in the wok, mouth-watering scent rising from within. “Fresh fish!” the man called. “Fresh pomfret from this morning's catch. Fried in butter, salted with sea salt. First sticks free. Full copper for the next!”

Aaron ignored it. It smelled nice, but it was the only decent smelling thing here. It couldn't possibly—

“I want some,” Viper whispered.

Aaron rolled his eyes and walked over.

“Pay him for the first skewer.”

“He said it's free!” Aaron hissed through one corner of his mouth. “And most of our currency is silver quarters.” Aaron didn't want to be seen fishing in his purse. That would expose him as having full pockets. Even the shallowest of metal jingles could tempt a docile man into thievery.

“Pay him with a copper for ten,” Viper insisted back.

Aaron frowned as he neared the seller. A copper for ten? The man grinned, holding up a toothpick with fried chunks of fish carrying an amber hue, grease coating providing an almost gem like appearance. Ah! He's scamming me .

“How many sticks, boy? One only, or maybe two? You can try it first and decide later!”

Aaron quickly fished out a coin that felt the right size, hoping that it was the right color. “Two,” he said as he opened his palm to the squatting seller whom he graced with his own shadow. What would happen if Viper tried appearing now? Would he appear from within this man instead of the ground?

The seller stared at him with wide eyes. Aaron glanced down at his palm, breath catching. A glittering gold quarter sat at the center, prim and pretty like a noble girl dressed at her debutante, amused and intrigued eyes turned towards her.

“Keep it,” Aaron said, meaning to sound imposing. But his voice had come out with a harsh rasp like Viper's. He steadied his breath and spoke again, more properly this time and loud enough for surrounding locals to hear. “And don’t try to scam me again. Or I will report to my father.” Aaron shot a glare to match his improvised lie. He took two sticks and then walked away with as much swagger as he could muster.

The locals began talking of him without the use of common courtesy.

“A rich boy travelling in those clothes?”

“Must be the inspector, Master Harim's son. Sent the boy on patrol I'd wager. Harsh making one so young travel alone.”

“Right. That one took a cloud girl as a wife. A northerner with white skin.”

Ignoring the words was hard when no one bothered to whisper. Aaron dropped a skewer and the ever prepared Viper pulled it into the Umbra before it could touch the ground and fast enough for none to have seen.

“That was brilliant,” the Shadow Walker commented. “You pretended to be rich. The desert folk are cautious. They won't rob someone of status. And even if they thought of it, you gave them an easier target by giving that seller a gold piece. I wanted you to pay him to show that you're not be taken advantage of, but you had everything planned, didn't you? You pinching your nose is the perfect imitation of a spoiled child who only knows of sweet scents!”

Are you insane? I don't even want to eat this damn thing . Except it looked so irresistibly scrumptious. Viper was giving him too much credit. But Aaron didn’t feel like arguing. He was sort of enjoying the compliments. He bit into the skewer. He chewed. He swallowed. And soon enough, he was left licking scraps off a wooden stick. “Flames. I should have asked for ten.”

“He only had five prepared,” Viper said.

Observant as usual. I should do that more often . He couldn't rely on Viper always. He tossed his stick into the water once reaching the docks and stretched his arms. Another large vessel was approaching. A barque, thinner in shape than seemed normal, that teetered on the waves, seeming as if it might tip over at any moment. But it never did. It seemed more stable the closer it approached. It was pulled by black sails tied to three masts, the greatest sail being marked by the Three Rends of Shuari.

“Will there be books on that ship?” Viper asked.

It was hard to determine whether that rasped voice carried contempt, or excitement. Aaron decided that it was the latter this time. “It's bound to have a ledger at least. Might even have sea charts drawn on paper.” The problem was how well guarded it would be, and whether Aaron could sneak aboard and steal a book for Viper. It would be simple if Viper went himself, but there was no guarantee he'd recognize something he'd never seen.

Dark stripes lined the ship's sides. Two rows of ballistae were on either side of the deck. And on its side was the strangest name one could give to a vessel. A name that suggested those ballistae were perhaps meant for offensive use rather than defensive.

The ship's name was The Virulence .